Best Waiting Game Poems
THE WAITING GAME
I'm playing the waiting game,
not futilely nor waiting in vain.
My delivery, my parcel my expectation;
forces me to ambulation.
I want it now,
my elixir my kisser;
sit and lull for the lister;
who swore to me a delivery vow.
For what do I wait,
as the hours grow late?
And why won't it come now!
Anticipation sloths, it insists I allow,
as time cannot expedite it's rate,
Heavens! give it to me now!
When the bloody hell will it be,
is some great force slowing delivery?
I must have it.
I cannot wait one bit.
Wait! I make no demand; we did agree.
My tactic is only made idly,
and can wait out eternity.
Ooohhhhh when I have it in hand!
Patience called into my spirit land.
I am closer, I count clock's tick's;
Calm. Tools down.
For it will come around,
as it was assured by honor bound.
Can you relate to this, my expound?
Then I can be more comfortably sound.
The duration of stagnation calls for liberation
with such I am spared ruination
I've gone through elation and vexation and frustration,
Yet yes, I will have my placation.
This trial and tribulation is vocation of sedation and stagnation.
An empty marathon that knows not capitulation.
I will have my unification.
My determination matches my frustration across the duration.
In the end I sidestep ruination and have my elation.
THE ANGLER and THE WAITING GAME
Along the shallow sloping winter bourne
The water trickles to the stream to drain
The rain-wet fields on bone cold winter morn
It’s life held brief by seasonal refrain
All summer long it played the waiting game
In breath-held stillness trees unmoving stand
Except where twig is touched by drip of rain
With oaks and elders all across the land
A premature tumescence they restrain
For sun’s return they play the waiting game
Aligned along the margin of the lake
Bullrushes stand in arid martial lane
No longer from the water do they slake
The thirst that will return at Nature’s deign
For satiate quench they play the waiting game
The angler - bent and clothed in woodland green
On river bank he sits alone, no name
An allegory of patience, ever seen
He troubles no one, none would seek to blame
Through seasons all he plays a waiting game
Silence
On green field lie,
Goalpost lonely, forlorn -
Yellow jerseys, darting figures,
Strike goal.
Patience for proof of there being some kind of blessing in the human race
and it not being a lie
takes patience
looking for someone to read between the lines
and having the sirens go off
and as i sit here
wondering
how good am i at this waiting game
will i freak when the time comes
or will I shoe
I was never good at waiting in line
always wanted to jump ahead
but i understand the angels must be busy
taking soo many people to heaven
but hello angel
They are dead now
I'm still alive
I sure need a saint and proof the human race
doesnt just strike up the parade that its an amazing thing
when in fact it steals from fourteen year olds
waits from them to grow up and leaves them
playing the waiting game
until they die
Patience is a virtue
when in the midst of crooked cops
backwards systems of political algebra of justice
and selfishly saving your own life you know you would break the law
so i play the waiting game
and wonder
am i waiting to die?
silently these whispers turning into screams
do they know the madness it is coming from me
and all of my broken shattered dreams
the truth we dont offer second chances
well not to me
so i just play the waiting game
i can't save myself
can u save me?
From a derelict house, near the interstate pass,
with her cuff of chenille, she rubs a small circle
to clear away grime from the cold window glass
Better to see now, beyond wooden rails, that have worn disrepair
for thirty odd years
and have fenced in, long hours of loneliness
There's an old pepper tree, that tosses it's head in an alien wind,
in a sea of dead grass, where a garden had been
There's a face, weathered thin, from neglect and despair
she turns for a moment, to glance, here and there,
a room she has known, filled with colors long dimmed,
where the silence shouts loud, not a question to ask....
but...wishing for something..., a chore, or a task
if only the phone might ring.....
Near the rail of the fence are two Rhode Island Reds
grazing around in the tall weedy grass
There's a cock on a post, in the shade of the tree
keeping watch on his kin, keeping her company,
keeping tabs of a life that has come to an end
She will gaze in a lapse, dust motes fall to the floor,
in the still of the gloom she will turn once again
in the grim of the room...
There is still a dial tone, ....maybe the phone will ring....
For a mere month or more, a feral cat came her door
then had wandered the floors, neither friend or a foe
But he soon disappeared, on the eve of the storm
She will call just the same.......just in case he can hear
"Here, kitty kitty"....."Here, kitty kitty", but she calls him in vain
While the wind plays the same dirty game...
Tumble weeds roll and bend, her eyes search through the wind
...as she waits for a friend
a friend never there....always due to arrive
so she stands by the side, of the black telephone
In the old parlor room, in the gloom of a long afternoon
Maybe the phone will ring....
________________________________________________________
Waiting for the rain to go
or the sun to come, or the clouds to go
or the car to come, or the fear to go
or the phone to ring, or the heart to know
or waiting around for your love to grow
or waiting for his fear to go.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the endless night
or waiting for the endless fight
or waiting around for your delight
or waiting, perhaps, for my heartbreak
or a cry of help, or your tears for my sake
or a chain of thorns, or a chain of rants
or a ring of flames, or one more chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
Based on the book: Oh, the Places You'll Go! Dr Seuss
For the competition Dr. Seuss theme and form by Joann Grisetti
Beyond these realms, there is no sense of fear,
Mystery reveals a different breath,
A warm embrace to hold the soul so dear,
While in her loving arms we wait for death,
And see her smile, at last she’s standing near.
The end is nothing, let her come tonight,
For death is merely beginning anew,
Thus trust the soul to know the time is right,
As it discards the dismal mortal view,
And leaves to dance within her sacred light.
Form: Sicilian Quintains
Waiting for the inevitable
Fearful it'll never arrive
Letting the universe decide
What will be will be
But did I earn the right to enjoy the ride?
~BITE SIZE POEM no25 Poetry Contest
A Waiting Game of Song
In life's journey, many a woman gets lost along the way
Of this, I know for sure most definitely I do have to say
Some people say if you have a softness and lightness
Of how certain types of poets, writers, authors can convey
An all ulterior false of humanistic proximity in realities I say.
Can leave an innocent and endearing poet or writer hurting in their heart
In all unknown circumstances whom can say if they are right or wrong
Can thou cast an interior or exterior absolution which does belong?
Dare I say we all have shed many a tear within our mortal souls their art.
Has there ever been a true love that has ever long and last
Can a woman and a man; be so in tune and never will cast
A disillusioned broken heart may mend in time
In every waking hour of every day, minute, second and hour
I'll always think of your charismatic charms of willful power.
Someday almost many people in love say it’s just a waiting game
Many people contemplate and call it just a cruel kind of a name
If I could feel your heart sing a song full of artistic fine gifted love
Maybe someday we'll stay and sing a rhapsody of how we feel of
A concerto of how love can and be so ever loving and deliciously bring
Then we'll be forever enveloped in a powerful tune that can really sing
Then we'll be forever enveloped in a powerful tune that can really sing.
03/02/2015
Another movement, another minute
Another hour, does this tick win yet?
Keep holding off the moment
As if a day of glory will come
When fate shines down atonement
And then you will be optimum
Hypocrite thy name is human
We're in the same boat of lies
With humdrum holds and fickle crewman
We sail stubbornly sans surprise
Heave Ho! Heavy against all we must woe
Don't mind the wake, it won't touch our fate
Stroke! Row! Despite the winds blow!
Let's take stake that chaos hold its state
You want life's meaning? Reproduction
You want a sign? Let it be me
Want a purpose? Learn how we function
What's the point? You'll just have to see
The clock never stops, time never stands still;
A girl in a train station shudders with a chill,
Waiting on delusions, waiting on a train,
Waiting for old aches to reemerge again.
She’s holding her breath and counting heartbeats,
She’s thinking of long gone sun-kissed streets,
Waiting on a thunder, waiting for the rain,
Waiting for a whisper and words that never came.
The stars gazed upon her, she gazed back at them,
She started to curse, to cry, to condemn,
Waiting for goodbyes, waiting for hello,
Waiting for something, but she didn’t know what for.
Waiting on hope, waiting in vain,
And yet she kept waiting until she went insane.
Days and nights passed, the train went away
And still in the train station, a girl waits today.
"I'm not who You've waited for,
After all these years.
I know that you hoped for more,
But I'm facing fears.
You're a perfect kind of guy,
You deserve the world,
Not the drama of the life
That comes with this girl.
You deserve someone special,
That can treat you right.
Not waiting for me until,
You use up your light".
She'll never understand,
the twinkle in my eye,
Burned from want to hold her hand,
And I can't watch it die.
He breaks your heart
Tears you down and apart
Lip buttoned, your kid shuts you out
Where to turn, How to start...
Extra patience is called for
It's a waiting game
Confrontation only gets you
More of the same
Waiting in my box of life,
we listen to the voices
filled with panic and terror.
We hold back,
waiting for asylum,
dread filling our essence.
For every second delayed,
the farther away he moves.
We anticipate every need.
I check my tools.
Is it all there?
I look down at my hand
and I wonder, will they do?
Will they stand the test?
Can I hold back
the tide of death
as it swirls around him?
Quickly, we move in,
I see his lifeless form
laying on the battlefield.
I approach hesitantly,
dodging dirt and debris,
running through a hailstorm of lead.
Finally reaching my prize,
I pray for a breath.
I slowly pry loose
the enter twined fingers of Jordan
from around his throat.
I shield his broken body
with my own as I work.
slowly, I defeat the demon.
Eyes open, groggy, mumbled words
through a haze of morphine.
"I knew you'd come,. Doc."
You gave me hope.
I waited and waited.
It wasn't ment to be.
You didn't come.
You set me free,
so I can see the better option....
The sun, the moon ,the sea....
I walked my shadow home.
The rest is history my dear...
You ever gave me hope.