Best Up To Par Poems
It must be hard
To carry it around
That load of hate
Weighing on your heart
A powder keg
Waiting to explode
Hurting others but
Killing your own soul
You pretend it isn’t there
But now and again it shows
In what you say
In what you write
The sarcasm hidden under the sweet
The hate clothed in happy
And yet….
It’s there
For the discerning to see
It must be hard
To have it eat away at you
And not be able to voice
All those words
That are begging to be heard
Dying to hit the mark
A bull's eye victory
That brings relief
It must be hard
To keep them locked away
For fear of criticism
Of “losing face”
And yet….
They gnaw away at your being
Those sugar coated morsels of hate
For those inferior
Made of fluff
Not substantial
Not up to par
Medicore
Weak
Sniveling
Sappy
Sorry
Excuses of human beings
It must be hard
To be civil
To pretend to be kind
Thinking others are blind
To the real motives behind
Your words…..
Ah…if only you’d realize
The only one hurting
The only one who is weak
Is you
To love takes strength
To forgive takes power
To rejoice with others takes integrity
The finer qualities
To hate is easy
To love near impossible
Hate would dissipate
If you took some time to realize
The person who irks you
Who just rubs you the wrong way
Maybe has been rubbed the wrong way
As a child...
Sexually abused
Struck down by violence
Suffering from...
Emotional abuse
Sexual abuse
Verbal abuse
Physical abuse
Insecurity
Feelings of inferiority
He has hidden baggage too
Behind his false bravado
A heart that is in pain
Much like you
His brokenness plain
His tears in the rain
So no one can see
I know it must be hard
To try to change
To put away hate
But it’s not too late
To look inside
The one you despise
You just might be surprised
To see deep within
And there in his eyes
A reflection of all that comprises
the beauty of YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a date with the courts.
Locals aid their tally, most from afar,
It is nature's clock, all good things must end,
fly north to breed, and brood, and up to par,
A month's here, till next year, that's how the trend.
Awnings grey, triumphant stirs, the tension,
inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension.
Spelling, syllable count, vanity, too simple, Simon! Be prolific, cruel, smart, up to par, above the bar, fit for the stage. Tap, tap, tap…
—by poet
The Prismatic Self
See the wooden stage, markers for my feet, bright lights, great expectations, critical analysis. Curtains will open any minute as my words make an entrance. Will my opening lyrics draw a crowd? Who will be in attendance? The theater’s not likely sold out.
Backstage, the sponsors, who are they? ATTENTION! As if a teacher wields a pointer, tapping at my feet. Will the audience throw erasers?
On the palm of my hand, the rules - perhaps strict, but I’m not in fear of a stickler. Trained by the nuns in love and hate knuckles.*
Lots of rules, I might have to practice the act for quite a bit longer. I practice in my dressing room, trying on outfit after outfit - those flouncy forms or something simple and succinct.
Am I a people pleaser? Do I perform at the pleasure of the King or Queen? Or am I my own worst critic?
Yes! Yes! Yes! No!
I desire to be seen but I will yield. There is something more important than being the lead. Still, I must confess, I must run back to my little box, mime my tears, dread my limitations, take a breath and when I am ready - take a bow.
At the onset, I must build my own backdrop, backstory, be vague and understood. I run my lines quickly, slowly, go over them again and again, even as I recite them freely, as a monoku or Shakespearian sonnet; or get even more elaborate.
I labor over each word, its placement, its meaning. I don’t care! I do care! I must feel it practically perfect; though I will let it go. Eventually, it will be a comedy of errors, erroneously erupting past the stage, in the rubber hands of cause and effect. The sponsor’s Marlboro ashes fall on it, without understanding my heartfelt meaning; my wings clipped as I await the list…the dreaded and dreadful list. Most surprised when I am the cream, alone - floating at the top.
**Fastbreast, blushing, aghast, euphoric. That sponsor is exact. I do not grow prideful. I do glow. The tip of the iceberg shows, all other words sunken, below. In leotards, the ships pass by, having a look - one clips itself.
*conceit
**Fastbreast - heart beating rapidly (Neologism)
Had an old-time New York day –
Took the bus to see a play.
Understudy for the star –
Still, the show was up to par.
Dinner in a lovely place –
Food and beer we could embrace.
Friendly waitress and, a plus –
Cool young couple next to us.
Conversation quickly flowed,
Even though we’d not helloed.
She – Jamaican, he, a Swede –
Classy, hip and fun, indeed!
For dessert, some key lime pie;
Bid our friends a sweet goodbye.
Caught the bus and headed home
To capture it within a poem.
Here I sit a thousand lonely miles away from you,
Knowing to be with you theres nothing I wouldn't do.
When I someday see your face I'll know I'm finally yours,
The day when we close the distance between these shores.
Everywhere I turn I'm finding something new,
It feels so right being hopelessly lost in you.
When I think of how truely beautiful you are,
I only hope in your eyes I am holding up to par.
I know looks don't matter but your inner beauty is so surreal,
When I stop to think about it I know how my heart you could steal.
I was so tired of how many people comitted love crimes,
In truth though I've seen how real you love so many times.
I swore I would never love again, just to simply avoid the hurt,
Yet you came into my life and stole my love even on full alert.
How you do this to me so easily is such a mystery,
But you need to know you have every part of me.
So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head,
I know if I lived without you, I would feel dead.
I hope I have done the same to your heart,
I love you and can't stand us being apart.
Don't underestimate how hard i'll try,
I promise you I'll love you until I die.
I know now that your love is something I can't live without,
We were meant to be together, of that there is simply no doubt.
When I think about all the things we might go through,
I know I'll always love you, give me one reason not to.
I hired a robot
To write poems for me
Now I'm able to rhyme
In modern technology
Though his imagination
Isn't quite up to par
The relaxation I get
Outweighs it by far
From 0 to 1
To 1 0 1
He likes to write
In binary bytes for fun
As long as the rhymes
Keep flowing from him
He can have all that is mine
From the head of my pen
If all this goes well
We'll just wait and see
But I might even hire
A robot to read poems for me
This place is full of wonder, full of great sites
A walk in the blissful rays of colored lights
Take me by the hand and pleasure my sensory
Tickle my nose with the smell of your fragrancy
Your tranquility calms me to a state of awe
I could look at you for days and not find any flaw
Even though mistakes can be made
The site of you makes those mistakes fade
Have you ever wondered how your soul can wander?
Bump into each other from far beyond yonder?
Did you ever see the beauty in me?
Even at my worst could you really see?
A shadow of truth, which dwells within these walls
A Utopian garden of truth, which an empty voice calls
Delving in the interior I can only be amazed
By all of the pretty things about you; my feelings are raised
Mesmerized by your being; intellectual with insight
I know that together we will only burn bright
The empty yard is now filled with dreams
Covering the persistence of my piercing screams
A hollow body has been filled
A terrible angst has been killed
And my imagination has now been thrilled
So all we can do from here is build
Still yet, I wonder as I gaze into your radiant eyes
The twists and turns are for frequent surprise
As I get to know you further for who you are
You have given me reason to believe we are up to par
Driven in ways to get the chance to make you mine
I could not give you up, for which you are particularly devine
Within my limits, for I have chose
I confess that I want you, the alluring rose
In this garden which you appease
All of our sorrows will begin to seize
Love is a feeling, it can feel like rain
The drops can be refreshing, or bring lots of pain
I know with you we can be as one
Take a walk in this garden where we won't have to run
I will always remain with you, from dusk until dawn
Just imagine someone there for you, someone who will never be gone.
Written on July 6th, 2016 and posted on July 7th, 2016.
By: Michelle Corbin
He seemed an ordinary boy
until he found the supreme joy
of snowboarding, made it an art
in which no one can take a part
without recalling Craig, and how
he was the start of all that’s now.
He is recognized by his peers
as one of a few pioneers
who brought snowboarding up to par,
esteemed as other snow sports are.
It now is an Olympic game,
bringing other young folks fame.
He attacked his sport with verve and vim.
World accolades belonged to him.
He made the loved sport his life’s work.
Craig Kelly was not one to shirk.
He took responsibility
for safety to the nth degree.
It’s such a sad, ironic touch
the mountains that he loved so much
would be the reason for his death.
Their treachery would steal his breath.
Craig well knew the danger there
and went about his work with care.
Craig had his followers and was
Idolized by them, because
He was the master of his game
Teaching them how to be the same.
Unassuming and understated,
Craig was simply, dedicated.
Dedicated to work and play,
And to his loved ones all the way.
How many long-lived men can say
When they have met their final day,
“My life too short when it was done,
But every year of it was fun.”
---------------------------------------------------------
For Chris Matt's "Gone to Soon" contest
If you are a snowborder you know his name.
If not just google-- Craig Kelly Snowboarder
b. April 1966--died January 2003
He was my step-grandson
He died in an avalanche in the Canadian mountains in January of 2003
For contest
They're trying to decapitate the hood magistrates,
with fabricated reasons for treasons
It's the season that we evaluate and saturate,
All those who maneuver with a false mind,
Hood occupants are tee'd off like it's golf time,
So your game needs to be up to par
because to the jails and cemetaries
too many people have lost time,
The government is microscopic on the popular,
They possess new world order style binoculars,
They're building plantations and camps
in the form of penetentiaries
to house and be the spots for the,
Most corrupted, those abducted,
from society in a variety of flavors
because misbehavior leaves us stuck with,
A bunch of years on tiers to joint suspension,
We stay inchin' through tention,
and in this hard knock life comprehension,
we discover that we're losing
in their systematic intervention,
They know that the hypnosis from dollar bills will rule us,
In a cess pool of,
deceived individuals who tryin' to glisten like a jewelers,
Metals and precious stones,
Yes it's on,
We brave enough to test the throne,
The quest is long,
And we fight until our flesh and bones,
Dissolved into the earth
We were born to die so who's next to go,
Our lives are far from festivals,
We're surrounded by people
who perform acts that are unethical,
attempting to reach the pinnacle,
Because the hood fame will excite us,
We search for the cures to hunger-itis,
What we really need is the wisdom from the providers,
Who serves the mind food
because the government is killin' us,
They're sealin' our fate with each plate to get rid of us,
They lable us outlaws, so we turn southpaw
and fight for our rights from the left like P. Whittaker,
It's hard suvivng inside their GENOCIDAL SYLLABUS,
So before you get tossed like a javelin,
Stay sharp and keep your eyes and mind travelin'
While you're in the systematic maze
to keep your life from unravelin'.
Who’s on top?
Really,
You didn’t know that it’s a contest?
After all,
There can only be one
Poet Laureate can’t there?
Both’s fingernails are bleeding,
Both’s knees are scraped and scabbed,
Both sweating profusely from the strain
Of climbing the sheer rocky face of passion,
Their injuries mostly self-inflicted.
(All poets are born stinkers!)
Poetry is not a day at the beach
Where the only hazards
Are forgotten suntan lotion,
Or that your Mai Tai is low
Because service is not up to par.
Or a day on the golf course
Where your only gain is
A lighter wallet, which cannot really serve you
At your next Weight-Watchers weigh-in.
Apoplexy coloring your future
As yet another ball lands in the drink.
And certainly not a game of tennis
Where service is de rigueur, isn’t it?
Though I swear,
There is more Physics in women’s outfits,
(Action/Reaction - You know!
Do women ever play fair?)
Than in any momentum, spin, or angle
A man can even contemplate.
So who’s on top?
Ask the woman!
Does ‘top’ even matter?
She’s where she wants to be.
A man can only dream! Ha!
Brian Johnston
October 21, 2014
My Kind of town
My town may not be up to par
It may be leagues below most towns by far
May even seem rundown to some earthly clowns
The people here are quiet folk
Our fine citizens have no dogs to walk
Although a few may be seen strolling along
With their pet lobsters so red on leashes strong
New years we celebrate with the bubbly
As we do many fathoms of the year
The bubbles floating all around
Hot springs underneath abound
There is a ranch you see, just outside of town
The coral full of seahorses true
The whales swim by our ocean abode
In absolute amazement they smile or maybe frown
Our houses may be old
Each and every one though a museum to behold
To our vibrant illustrious past
Statues proud in aquatic blue
When you come visit us
We shall all look out and stare at you
If only we had had the time
We would have posted a sign
Welcome to Atlantis
He didn't give himself up to fear.
And his voice had a life of its own.
He didn't give himself up for broke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar', 'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to drinking beer.
His voice still had a life of its own.
And he didn't give himself up for smoke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to curcumstance.
Always tried to make it alone.
He didn't give himself up to telling lies.
His honesty was already shown.
Always kept himself up to par.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'...
Rock Lyric By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1987,2014..
ALL rights reserved..
Sometimes things just don't turn out.
Sometimes things don't fit.
Just the way you hoped they would,
But don't get in a snit.
Try to make the best of things,
Just the way they are.
It may not be just perfect,
But for sure it's up to par.
You worked so hard, you did your best,
Left nothing up to chance;
But don't judge the day by what you reaped,
But by the seeds you plant.
If you plant smiles instead of frowns,
You're sure to get back cherries.
Plant some hugs and kisses,
And you'll get a bowl of berries;
But stomp and snort, plant anger,
Discord and irritation,
And you'll get back no sweets my friend,
Because you plant vexation.
I made a wish upon a star and really got burned
I made a wish upon a star and left Madonna breathless
I hitched my wagon to a star but forgot my spacesuit
The stars in my eyes turned out to be black holes
I couldn’t rise to the occasion so I took some Viagra
Did Harvey Wall Banger? Nope, Willy-Nilly slapped him silly
I once had sex on a golf course but wasn’t up to par and got penalized three strokes
A sex therapist counseled a maggot couple to make love in Earnest
I decided to take a brisk walk but there was this plank…
I WALKED that plank but they drained the pool so I cracked up
I walked the line and it was a very thin line (A very fine line though)
I walked the straight and narrow and had to stop for directions
I made a molehill out of a mountain and the EPA was NOT amused
I made another molehill out of a mountain and the CLIMBERS were not amused
I made ANOTHER mole hill out of a mountain but some mole dug up some dirt on me
I was shamed when the scandal was published in The Holey-Moley Enquirer
So I dug up some dirt on THEM and completely ruined my manicure…
If life is a rat race, God needs to set out some traps
Life was a bowl of cherries til I cracked my tooth on a pit
Speaking of pits, I escaped The Pit and the Pendulum but (Oh, rats)
Speaking of rodents, three-blind-mice ran into a herd of stampeding lemmings and quickly took the plunge…
to me, this is more than just a poem
that is why i must wait to choose a form
since i arrived here a couple years back
many friends have been found and thats a fact
without any prejudice i was openly accepted
after a few months i KNEW why that should always be expected
i have not written in a while so forgive me if i am not up to par
with what you believe i was, am or are
and yes, i used "are" just to force the rhyme
just to let you know inspiration will no longer be forced in my mind
because all of the talent that i have found here
you may not believe it but i have often shed a tear
triggering me to create something unique
those contests are evidence of what i speak
wait....this is emotional because i am TRULY a wordsmith at heart
and poetrysoup is my family, and just think, everyone thinks i am smart....
i LOVE yall....