Best Vicarious Poems
Poets dream utopian dreams
Dreams of ideals and perfection
Dreams of places never visited
People never met
Songs never sung
Love stories never written
Passion never experienced
Lives never touched
Hearts never caressed
And so…they dream...
Intensity of emotions
Brilliance of thoughts
Too hard to bear
Too heavy to carry
Inside the soul
Breaking free from within
Bringing exquisite release
From visions on hold
Self-proclaimed artists
Mixing colors on heart pallets
Splashing them on the canvass of the soul
Word colors that bring to life
The ethereal atmosphere,
The very aura of paradise
Paintings of passion’s pleasure and pain
Vivid hues of nature’s finery on display
Humorous caricatures exaggerating life
Holy word pictures revealing mere glimpses of...
The sacred
They write
They paint
Mostly, they just try to live
Vicarious lives
In those lines
Another life
Another time
Another love
Another clime
Another dream
Escape artists from the horrors that surround
Exhibitionists of the naked beauty of truth
Lovers with a prowess that rivals the gods
For isn’t that what love making must be?
The climax of human emotion
In a burst of eternity?
Vicarious lines
Vicarious lives
Yours…and mine…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I live my life vicariously,
Through everyone else’s eyes.
I live my life through every low
And every one of the highs.
It began when I was a child,
I’d live like batman every day.
Pretending I was by his side,
Cutting and weaving as I play.
My teens, I was the movie star,
Robert de Niro, an extreme survivor.
That’s when I was the skin head, Bickle,
The paranoid vigilante Taxi Driver.
By my 20’s my kids success at
Debates and sports became my badge.
I was there to remind folks how proud I was,
Cleaning and bandaging every scratch.
My 30’s I walked like the enigmatic Jack White,
Of Detroit garage rock stance.
This phase didn’t last long though,
Couldn’t play the guitar, or even dance.
Now my 40’s, I don’t need actors or musicians,
To show I’m a flamboyant musical fighter.
I just feign that I know how to scrawl like the bard,
Living vicariously through poetic writers.
Devoid of personal exposure to Spring wonder’s iridescence
I thank God for vicarious experience-fluorescence
Enabling me to testify about Spring’s delightful essence
Through technology with varied media’s presence.
Among the four providentially-created seasons
Spring’s the best, anchored upon scientific reasons:
Moderate temperatures offer freedom from winter-prisons
While granting relaxation against scorching summer-garrisons.
More daylight in the Spring allows much work-fulfillment
Ushering toward opportunities for creativity-engagement
Opening to outdoor exercise routines’ involvement…
For natural Vitamin D enjoyment and health investment.
Watching avian influx eases mental distress
Birds’ melodious songs bring joy of serenity-buttress
Beholding baby animals can vanquish stress…
Like bunnies and ducklings frolicking outside their fortress.
As leaves come back, they mitigate urban heat
Flowers in bloom produce “true smile,” hard to beat.
Growing plants provide vital environmental feat
With fresh vegetables and fruits as nutrition-meat.
Indeed, I praise God for Spring delight
Though I live in the Tropics*, upheld by His might
With His blessings of love, light and faith triumph-height
Spiritual revivals** of new beginning’s plight beautify my Spring flight.
*We only have two seasons in our country: the Dry or Summer and Wet or Rainy days.
**Isaiah 57:15 For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.
March 23, 2019
Edited on March 23, 2023
Two chairs stare from across the room,
leaning on each other like worn puzzle pieces,
mine, towards the front where I often
perch in anticipation of life, yours,
decidedly towards the right where
you lean in anticipation of me.
A new landscape presents itself upon waking.
Places that were dreams drift outward.
Past becomes present; stars earth; flight, a grounded stride.
I might assess these thoughts as if I have a choice -
as if I might climb back into slumber; reestablish a cloud,
reshape a fog already escaping.
Thoughts of coffee with cream creep in,
old latticework mends itself even as I try to stop it.
"Reality, it's not for me, and it makes me laugh." Ha.
FORGET IT. May as well shower and get on with it.
Yet along the drive, my mind keeps wandering...
Will I ever catch that dream again?
shallow veil shrouding
threaded dreams woven deeply
virtuous disguise
Be a Vicarious Ripple
A randomly vicarious ripple of water
Begins to swell into a breaking curl
Of splashing white water making a change
In the docile glassy reflection of the lake
As the lifeless water produces a thought
Made by the invisible finger of a water muse
This one ripple of creativity stirs an idea
Across the surface reaching into it’s very core
Trees rejoice with rustling voices as fish
Leave kiss rings upon the surface between the curls
Buds bloom as painted strokes upon fuzzy foliage
One ripple changed this lifeless environment forever
Be bold in your arena of life follow your inner muse
Life awaits the one who steps forward with change
Be a ripple then a curl moving with a living pulse
Making a difference through actions, leading the way
Carole Cookie Arnold
2010
Vicarious
Self instructed eyes, bend in to see,
The gorged mouths themselves, with the spending.
Words "I'm here to watch your nth" heard,
"Bring my relief exchange my life with ease."
Forth as if I'm at minus, segregated by hearts unfavoringly,
Turn us through chapters, illusion filled critisizingly,
Thickening colors suffocate the proverbial head frequency.
The stress-belief instilled acronymic letters to your name.
Starting with crucial anonymity.
Broken in personification you throw depth in molding,
Away connect why we set the world's continual motion.
The star welded together takes what's ripe,
And burnt the eyes with dark loathsome nights.
The exclusion sent the shine filling this fain,
"From many in deep days lets lay it free."
I feel the light shared and iridescented us,
Has lit and'll fuel the hole that burns between you and me.
With these now-emotions, I listen like always,
And the pencil sits aside-head in a violent shake,
'Til time has passed the ash willed left, and feels like peace'd evade.
The sky is drinking the earth dry saying "love is betray,"
To hunger tree's barely piece'd together by age.
React-fully the hands clench,
Blind hands see love as the same weight as rage,
Under and over these emotions vicariously live tethered.
Inclosed under it always people deserved blame,
Wrapped the surface some letter some name,
Loose words quote full years in bark,
"You're a living projection of my pain."
Deed me and lift the horizon up with clouds of fire..
Burn it expending till tired,
Will it till you lost respect while reaching loft vain desire..
Watch how I promised it's the timed descending spiral,
I pioneer instant loss of degraders, keep my brother emoters,
And realign beautiful hearts so it pours out water.
in high school there was this kid who had some kind of
heart problem,
he had a horrible scar where work had been done at an earlier age &
he had a story to tell if you wanted to hear it---
like so many kids who had more on their plate than they wanted to handle,
what with going through puberty & being stomped on daily by
parents, school & the surrounding authority figures that make it a place to
make themselves known,
well, most didn’t have the time---
but she, whose plate wasn’t as full as others,
because she was drop dead gorgeous,
rich, smart & destined for greatness
(as far as society was concerned),
was looking for some pain to feel,
because quite frankly, she felt little
during her teenage years.
those years when the body itself seems to be rebelling against you,
she was in perfect shape &
with perfect grades & popularity,
she needed to know what it was like to
hurt---
she felt left out by all of her classmates
whose lives were just plain
****ed up already & so,
she listened to the boy’s story.
she never had lunch with the kid
never called him on the phone
never went out with him outside of school
never gave him a ******** &
never acknowledged his presence when she was walking with her
clique,
but the day that he dropped dead on the gymnasium floor,
as a result of whatever was wrong with his heart,
she cried & cried & cried.
days & weeks later,
like some bad b-drama that you find on Lifetime,
she acted as if they had been the best of pals &
when people mentioned his death in passing
she corrected them if he didn’t say his name right or
when they made fun of him, even despite his death,
she got angry at them &
after a month had passed,
and she was right back in bed with the hottest guy the school could muster,
she still felt bad,
but she tried to block it out with her multiple orgasms &
the pot they smoked afterward.
she always said that she’d try anything once &
that pain brought on by the dead kid was something that she definitely did not want to
form a habit with.
Toying with the summer breeze.
Free... not a care in the world.
Falcon circling among the clouds.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
The only thing better than being a rose is to be with the dwelling flower in the bed of roses While the aroma flourishes upon the hour What I suppose is Roses come up smelling like a rose ! ! ! ! ! !
Hewn with story untold
Towering mass cut then rolled
Bared, stripped leaving majestic mold
Surrounded with ringed truths manifold
Cored, its residual value poled
Branchless foil whose tender hath been sold
Slighted twig, limb but unvarnished dome not doled
On its base remaining premium scrolled
Trite, sentimental heirloom pared bold
Statuesque sentinal in sylvan fold
Subletted perch, ant stronghold
Milled by termites hundredfold
For weary travelers a foothold
Scortched by fire; its hearth roiled
Yet, remaining viable hostel in tenuous wold
Vulcanized, its pure essence remains for all to behold
8 Nov 2020 9:37 Am
Television to get my vision internet to see revision
Radio to set the pace and off to work and run the race
Eat to fast and shave my face didn't even get a taste
Coffee black caffien high kiss the wife a quick good bye didn't even see her face
Work all day don't think of life just chasing fuel to keep the lights on
Joke with Joe and what do you know lunch is gone can you work long
Back and forth we travel short do not play but watch the sport
See the american family on tv then off to sleep and dreams to sort
Up again at the crack of dawn at it again the same old song
Blinked today and my kids were grown years were short they should have been long
Slow down they say enjoy the day but you can't there's life to pay
So through others lives and imaginations mind we stay
This is the modern world all full of hype
This is our vicarious life
The images come into view,
so crisply, sharp displayed;
Soon, but an after-image glow,
as they begin to fade…
If blue’s the hue, the story ends -
you wake up in your bed,
but Wonderland and rabbit-holes
lurk in the shadows red.
Vicarious, this online life,
soft edges, hard construed.
Yet, disconnected from the world,
life slips away from you.
For those who plant the garden rows,
this story’s incomplete.
When you plant shovels in the ground,
most times, dirt’s underneath.
On wings of love vicarious
With raging impetus my devotion soars
In my dreams night after night
Your loving heart I’ve conquered
Opulence surrounds you worthy of a queen
Gardens of magnolia exult your glamour
Jeweled combs adorn your voluptuous raven hair
Your silken skin mine to admire and caress
On a pedestal you become my temptress
Till roars that wicked chasm of the morning ruthlessly merciless
Brutal reality making a zany mockery of my worship
What callous vicious ensorcellment tears me from my fantasy
And what if I choose to proclaim my nights as my reality
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on August 15, 2018 for contest EIGHT WORD CHALLENGE-8 sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 2ND