Best Vulnerable Poems
An adventure of the nature
untouched by human activity
Silence broken by rushing waterfalls
infinitely beautiful
very impressive sight
A romantic view of nature
Making plans and thinking of the future
We cannot experience it on a computer
Towering mountains to beautiful fjords, super
Take care of nature, no time for bloopers
bending the landscape
the air moving through canyons ~
their toothless mouths gape
09/09/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- Writing Challenge - Nature, Four in One -
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1st place in the contest
Poem of the Day 11.09.2020
Oh! How I despise dawn’s blushing optimism
and dried hydrangea blooms sepia skinned and papery thin.
Humdrum hands beat doldrums drum.
Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness?
A gnawing hollow where my heart should be.
Where cinder clouds float in negative space
memories collect like nesting sparrows beneath eaves.
I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss.
Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief
while October’s wind trembled aspens like harp strings.
(Ten Poem Titles)
The Corruption Of My Lust For Life
Autumn Side Of September
Mundane Matters Of Mortals
Theft Of My Will To Survive
In Woes And Throes Of Sorrow
A Vanilla Dove
Escape Of The Bluesman’s Song
The Sham Of My Humanity
Death Is The Bane Of My Existence
The Shedding Trees Of Autumn
April 2012
A Vulnerable Existence
The world revolves round and round,
its direction, one way, future bound.
No matter where, what, when or how,
it followed that path, from the past until now.
Each person a footprint on the world as it revolves,
living for survival as the future unfolds.
Like a life line through our existence to an unknown place,
the momentum of time accelerating, as if life is a race.
If the human race didn’t exist, the future would still occur.
Survival is driven from the question “what do we exist for?”
Who knows the answer? No one can be sure.
Religion offers faith, strength and a moral guide that is pure.
However, we all have different theories and beliefs,
but this is often the source of conflict, suffering and grief.
Our world is more resilient than the human race,
no matter how much we destroy or scar Mother Nature’s face.
Maybe in time when our race fully evolves,
we will know why our world continues to revolve.
Unless as some theories suggest,
we destroy our world so we no longer exist.
How can I sever wolf-waves from the selfish sea?
I ache to cut the rogue from the relentless flow
his crest —swelled in high rise on testosterone tide—
swindles my tease to tame his blue Neptune flame
mocking my sun dried bed with unruly despise
he rides a white steed in petulant power with the moon
I am the passive strand of sand longing for his rhythm
oh timpani thunder roll in roll over me my skin awaits
taunt of aerated fate I await with serrated silence
stranded by him… I await… as inconsequential
as an oyster without a pearl
as a pearl unfulfilled without a knotted strand
I am the beach exposed at the lowest ebb
my eyes not sand-blind when cherry sun colors him red
and fuels his restless quest for honeypot conquests
to consummate sunset with supple skies far from home
and conjugate with sugar-shores not his own
my protests to his stray-sprees lay like loose scree
lure-lyrics litter air but then die a pale chitter in his ear
fruited gripes broken in breakers re-rhymed into pulp
summer-sweet to his palate as beach plum wine—
whine in the grind of my grain soundproofed by his kiss
where is his echo to my thirsty plea of love
when he’s the romeo sea and I’m the sand seduced
who exists in recline to absorb his homecoming
while beach-grass-bending-wind
whips my voice away from my throatless soul?
my resist drowns in liquid grooves of his Aquarian drum beat—
spume churned in our surf zone becomes spindrift in wind
echoes of the silent shore echo in me alone
It has happened again,
your true feelings are once more exposed
Vulnerable
Out in the open,
where your heart can be attacked
Anxiety ridden,
palpitations increase
Got an overwhelming urge to flee,
and go hide
Hide your vulnerable heart
Put it safely under lock and key
Blow after blow,
hurt after hurt,
has made you wary of anyone having true
interest in you
Particularly that of a romantic nature
Do they just want to be friends,
keep it purely platonic?
Or do they want to rush on in
Bombard you with flowers and phone calls,
remember every personal detail, no matter how small
Are they for real,
are they on the up and up?
Are they being sincere,
do they truly care?
Or is this just another self-amused bluff
Someone trying to see if they can get you to open up
Get your heart exposed to the cold,
then numb the pain with a shot of sexual novocaine
Get you laughing, set your mind at ease
Make you drop your guard, so they can do as they please
No, stop the doubting,
you're a better judge of people now then you were back then
If your heart must be made vulnerable again,
you will always be free to choose
whether to open the door and let the prospect of love come in
I feel safe in a rhyme.
With a rhyme you can
Close off a thought,
Tie up loose ends.
What little breath I have left is being spent
choking on tears that I have held for too long.
But a lid keeps me shut in here
in a glass jar
where she locked me away.
She collects broken dolls
and stores them where
their souls pour out and fill up their containers.
She, who claims her victims, stares down at me
Without her, I may not last out there
where she found me twisted and torn open
and struggling to breathe.
When she finds another broken doll,
She will keep them safe
They will be locked away and sealed inside a jar
and just like me, they will convince themselves that they’re better off
Maybe one day, I’ll find myself laying in
broken glass on the floor.
the world is on pause
holding its breath
while heroes
work their magic
they’ll find a cure
of that we’re sure
but things never to be the same
our innocence
and vulnerability
both took a catastrophic hit
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~COVID 2020~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
vulnerable people
easily hurt
quick to show feelings
unfamiliar with wall building
protect self in no way
naively believe everyone
lovingly giving third and thirteen chances
wanting to believe the best always
easily hurt, easily betrayed, easy to fool
idealistic, loyal, true blue
Vulnerable people
I cannot get enough of you
come find me please
i need to be heard
i need to be loved for who i am
take care of me - i need nurturing
look after me as i spread my wings
i’m sorry i’m here i hear you
be yourself and never change
never lose track of your dreams
your zest for life is your edge
explore and enjoy
it’s what life is all about
don’t give up on me
i can be better
i love you just the way you are
always and forever
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
There is a sudden crowd inside the ribs,
a heavy shifting of weight,
like old furniture dragging across a hardwood floor.
It is the nervous, rhythmic friction
of a thumb tracing the rough seam of your jeans,
over and over,
trying to anchor a body that feels too light.
You stand bare under a noon sun
with nowhere to tuck your hands,
the throat closing up like a dry pipe
around words that refuse to be smooth.
It tastes like the bitter, metallic burn of morning coffee
scalded against the top of your tongue,
the physical evidence of rushing into the day.
Then the floor drops away,
that sudden, terrifying lurch in the gut
when your foot encounters only empty air
on a dark staircase you thought you knew by heart.
The silence follows, heavy as a wet wool coat,
settling into the quiet hallway upstairs
where the floorboards stop creaking,
and you realize the house has gone entirely still.
But the lungs remember how to expand.
A laugh breaks out, unrehearsed, ugly, and loud,
the kind that jolts the shoulders
and leaves you blinking at the sudden light.
It is the cold, sharp shock of air
filling the chest right after the crying stops,
tasting faintly of ozone and salt.
We are of a fragile, clumsy construction.
We bruise against the corners of tables;
we stitch ourselves back up with mismatched thread.
To be alive is just to leave the front door unlatched,
inviting the weather to wreck the kitchen,
and standing there in the debris—
bruised, exposed,
and entirely glad to have felt the storm.
(Maverick Free Verse about a true life Maverick)
hey, Mr. Editor, you got it wrong
labeling Allen West as Congress’s “Most Vulnerable”
misnomer
insult to his character
ambush of American troops planned
Colonel West fired shots near an Iraqi prisoner’s head
information obtained, ambush prevented
no blood shed, not even the prisoner’s
thankless military bureaucracy
forced him to retire
Colonel West proclaimed,
“The battlefield’s no place for political correctness”
“Don’t blow sunshine up my butt,”
Maverick West warned, standing his ground
refused to march
to a “Machiavellian Kumbaya”
had he been a West Point grad
West would have been promoted
adorned with medals
accolades for soldiers saved
soldier’s mother spoke out; see it her way
“I hope my son’s commanders protect him as Allen did”
behind a shield of political ties
Allen never hides
in a Democratic district this Tea Partier rose
disenfranchised Americans cheered
do you think West deserves
beatings from the press
watch your “Most Vulnerable”
rise to prominence
if this hero hasn’t earned his seat in Congress
Mr. Editor, tell me who has
* Allen West represents the Tampa area of Florida in the U.S. Congress.
In 2003, when West was a battalion commander in Taji, Iraq, he fired his weapon
near the head of a prisoner to frighten the detainee into divulging information about
a planned ambush. The detainee started providing information and the ambush of
American soldiers was prevented. West was removed from command and the Army
considered a court martial. West argued he acted to save his troops, was fined
$5,000, but was allowed to retire with full honors and benefits.
What a beauty you are!
In this very life, my life!
Oh vulnerable woman!
In your fertile womb,
Precious little life,
What a beauty you are!
Lovely soul takes life bids,
Without hesitation,
Oh vulnerable woman!
Without your weakness,
You would not offer love,
What a beauty you are!
Selfless is your existence;
Yielding self to a small one,
Oh vulnerable woman!
Your delicate body gifted life,
And life gives peace as price,
What a beauty you are!
Oh vulnerable woman!
8/11/14
** This is dedicated to my wonderful mother who took the risk of giving us all
her children - LIFE. My salute to all mothers whose vulnerability is a true
beauty!!
My Heart is the strongest muscle in my body,
but emotionally and mentally,
it is the weakest and most vulnerable
of all the muscles.
It makes me feel lonely
and yet in love at the same time.
The heart fools me into thinking
you were actually in love with me,
yet in reality it was never meant to be.
Love is fickle and cruel at times,
yet the heart is vulnerable.
So what can you do?
Well my heart has been trampled on,
stepped on, stabbed, and girls have just about killed me.
I’ve been denied Love,
I’ve been let down easy,
I’ve been told “ Oh It’s not you, “
and yet my heart the strongest muscle in my body,
is still beating, is still there,
and I am still alive but
my heart is still vulnerable.
All our wives agreed, "It's a manly thing to do,"
"Start yourselves a man-group, for the good of you,"
Find your feelings! (???)
Our heads were reeling!
An unmitigated crock of poo!
But being manly-men we faced our fate,
(Or maybe — not to lose our dinner plate?)
To keep the peace
(Elusive golden fleece!)
We commenced to congregate.
We held our first meeting at a quarter-of
Bravely resolved to take off the glove
We'd dig deep,
Maybe weep!
(At least when push came to shove.)
Pretty soon the gals said, "How's it goin?"
We said, "Fine, but it's not for your knowin"
A quote from the book
by one Doctor Crook:
"Confidentiality's needed for growin."
Weeks went by, we were flying high,
Gettin' real good at "how to sigh,"
but son-of-a-glitch
we just could not hitch
our eyeballs to "here's how to cry."
The pressure was on, we hollered, "OH LORDY!"
"We're manly-men, but this cryin' ain't sporty!"
The girls were pryin'
(Tired of our sighin')
It was time for some WD-40!
Miracle-in-a-can, known to all men
The answer to prayer since way back when
Watta ya say?
A tiny spray
And our wives were happy again!
So men if you need absolution,
(though it requires a bit of pollution)
WD in the eye,
Makes a realistic cry,
There just ain't no better solution!