Best Well Intentioned Poems
The Adjective Twin: A Poem of Pain
I am "presumptuous" -- and with my brother, "arrogant"
we are the adjective twin of "gentle" blame
of "gentle" wounding, of "gentle" continued "colonization"
constantly in an "unconscious" search for unsuspecting names to attach to,
so that we can remain collectively unconscious of our shadows.
We were born (and are constantly re-born)
from the culturally "unconscious" womb of (even "progressive") white privilege,
with the help of "pre-judgment" the midwife who abhors "decolonization."
And heed this warning: We do NOT like mirrors, because clear mirrors tell
(at an uncomfortable-making non-white-privileged "pace" of needed transformation)
the kind of "decolonization" truths that inconveniently bring to consciousness "well-intentioned" unconscious "Orientalisms,"
("Truths" that could potentially flourish into "Reconciliation" healing--IF allowed mirror-full-ness);
and these kinds of truth make my brother and I really (mostly "unconsciously") uncomfortable,
because we don't resonate with mirrors, with reflection,
'cause rather than truthfully being "set free"
we like to be comfortable in our privilege.
When we, the adjective twin attach ourselves to unsuspecting names
(who expect standards that befit real civility, real nonviolence, real caring)
Mother Earth's mirrors of tearful eyes break in 1,001 pieces of feel-goodist "progressive" self-deception,
that "gently" kill peace--on Earth.
Don't blame us, though,
(and definitely, but "gently" DO silence the wailing sirens of inconvenient awakening)
because we are the adjective twin,
and the "progressive" harm we cause is ever so "gentle" and "well-intentioned," you see?
By: Moji Agha (Mojtaba Aghamohammadi)
Monday, March 26, 2018
Boulder, Colorado
Categories:
well intentioned, change, culture, discrimination, judgement,
Form:
Narrative
The concerned politician was running for re-election
But a very cool, steamy sex scandal he struggled to hide
He used his thick, bald head to provide some harmful protection
By taking a scholarly, dim-witted babe to be his bride
By hiding appearances this loser won the seat he sought
But the love/hate relationship with his former mate went on
Under cover, above reproach the governorship he bought
The wickedly good scheme went awry, the lover suddenly gone
In the shadows of limelight his true love would no longer stay
The powerless governor didn’t want his private life public
And his charming, boring wife soon suspected there’d been foul play
Lying alone in her separate room made her healthy heart sick
A sleazy, reputable reporter showed her photographs
Of her husband and his lover in a platonic embrace
When confronted, the governor made a fortuitous gaff
Laughing contritely, he told his wife their love he’d not debase
But well-intentioned cons have a way of gleaming through darkness
For the long-lost mate found his way to the governor’s mansion
Startled resignation on his wife’s face so expressionless
To explain he was gay led to consolidated expansion
The news was revealed, the governor was forced into hiding
For he was no longer viewed as a truthful politician
He’d not been upfront, but back down in a closet confining
And he’d risen to downfall with a concealed revelation
*For Kristin’s “Oxymoronic” contest
Categories:
well intentioned, confusion, politicalwife, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Once upon a stranger
A girl A well intentioned woman
With open and adorned soul
Askance behind silvered eyes and sighs,
Revealing her concealed seraphic smiles
In an unending sequence.
Yielded in gleams in day dreams,
With folklores and odes chronicling her unique meekness.
Once upon a moment.
I heard silent whispers fade
Within a bus on a starry August night
She stood up to take one last view
With hope gleaming in her heavy eyes
Half in joy half in fear.
Once upon what it seems
The empty streets the cold store fronts
In the stark of the night she fumbled and crumbled
In the heat of the day she struggled and saddled
Into the realms of unaccompanied paths;
A forlorn forest A dense city street
An unchained soul is caged
(By the ugly parodies of society)
In cells in the dungeons of her mind
She ponders on her dreams reality killed
As she walked through the shanty streets, accompanied by cheer and fond memories.
Once upon a again
Her hope lingers near;
To fill the void with beauty, Top a class of fifty.
Her dreams ignite cheer;
To rekindle the lonely, Build Hope for the needy.
An ebullience cradling every night, dazed with smiles lit by echoes.’
Once upon loop of forever after
Lamentations probed!
Between forced marriages and a broken home,
One demure in her succinct lifetime
Raped abused and ignored.
A predicament lurking for so long,
Gradually prancing into suicidal thoughts.
And her world took a dark turn
For the moments were near felt burnt
And she recoiled deeper into her shells
Too late for your remorse and wishing wells.
Once upon a stolen dream
Once upon a neglected childhood
Once upon a depressing stroll
Once upon an abusive womanhood
Once upon a forced marriage
Once upon time and time again
“A bowed head,
Seeking shelter from raging tempests”
And as she lies on her five feet mat deep In her sleep where dreams unfold,
The Queen rises once again with seraphic smiles in her ultimate paradise.
Photo credit: Darwin Leon “Rape”
Save the Queen!
Categories:
well intentioned, bullying, child abuse, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
A scarlet tanager sits primly on the rail
Of the new fence erected near the meadow,
He eyes me stroll as I take in every detail
The path to the woodland is rather narrow,
Infrequently used, it is rapidly overgrowing
I am brushing against the yellow yarrow,
As hottest of summer is fast approaching
The meadowland has nary a cooling shadow.
Happily, I note the salt lick has disappeared
I hope its purposes were well-intentioned,
Certainly not as the hunter’s ploy, I feared
In a previous post, I am sure I mentioned.
I feel the coolness of the pleasant breeze
As I approach the edge of the tree line
Where meadow gives way to aspen trees,
And further on, a stand of taller pine.
I shall follow the trail through the wood
To the river which I can faintly hear, ahead
Where I saw a huge buck in full manhood,
And I have seen signs of where he bed.
It is a good two-mile hike, not exhausting
But I stop to examine new growth along
And for moments to reflect, I am pausing,
I’m encouraged by the tanager’s song.
Written June 18, 2022
Categories:
well intentioned, bird, nature, tree,
Form:
Quatrain
They're in a Better Place
This is not the time
for well-intentioned
testimony to
ethereality
so unfathomable
as these deaths
before me.
Praise heaven
and rejoice;
disguised as consolation
to me,
fractured,
who knows no better
than grief;
I have been left;
let me rage;
let me cry out
in torment;
let me.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
February 22, 2012
Categories:
well intentioned, death, me,
Form:
Free verse
Yes….YOU…you thimble headed moron;
why do you think your realities SO unique?
What gives you a claim on rightness?
Rightness, righteousness, right, “OH MY!”
OZ was a much more clear-cut place to live.
At least the wizard there displayed
his over blown head.
Let the curtains fall open
revealing his
bulbous backside;
exposed the blithering well intentioned?
idiot behind the screen.
“Grow UP! There is no right, no wrong…
It’s situational, experiential, cultural….
GET a grip!
Before one of your right wing Cronies
Goes POSTAL.”
Categories:
well intentioned, education
Form:
Free verse
One word
Like a black cat
Prowling on a starless night
Sneaks past my notice
Quiet and still and
Unobserved
Escaping from my well-intentioned lips
“Someday”
“We’ll have to get together”
“Yes, soon!”
“Write me when you get there”
“I will!”
“Don’t be a stranger”
“It’s been too long”
“Here’s my phone number”
“I’ll call – I promise...”
“Someday!”
Every emotion has an enemy
The enemy of joy is “if only I had done it differently…”
The enemy of peace is “what if something bad happens…”
The enemy of spontaneity is “when the time is right…”
The enemy of I love you is
“Someday”
Categories:
well intentioned, love,
Form:
Free verse
The lost doll was soon replaced
by the kind stranger, poker faced,
who said the doll looks not the same,
having changed both face and name
but may yet be by the child recognised,
by its touch tender and smile undisguised
and so by this well intentioned tale spun,
the lost doll and child again became one,
for what was relevant was spirit, not form,
embrace of innocence, beauteous and warm.
Categories:
well intentioned, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
What have you learned
after you've reached
a certain age?
Anything tangible
that can be passed on?
Rules for life
that are universal,
or simply habits
that worked for you?
I shuffle through my
mental rollerdex,
stopping here and there
to consider a point.
I was always early
or would strive to be,
for every event
or meeting, but
when all was considered,
in both the long,
and the short term,
it didn't matter much,
and was more of an obsession,
than an endearing trait.
I always showed up
for work, did my job
without excuse and
in the long run it
didn't matter much.
Sort of like treading water,
I stayed in the same place
for all the effort.
As I sort the cards over and over,
looking for general principles,
I find that the only things
that really gave me pleasure
were those that I did
expecting no reward,
money to a desperate friend,
compliments and encouragement
to those that never get it.
But, you know, I never did
enough of those acts
to be able to say
with confidence that
this is the way.
As I sort the cards,
the one that keeps
coming up over and over
is that nothing good
can be based on a lie
no matter how
well-intentioned
Categories:
well intentioned, introspection
Form:
Free verse
Chill by beach of Pitas.
Rain comes in a heavy task.
Return home to a break.
Another night to medicate tired.
Thanks Allah we intend.
Well-intentioned we are blessed.
Preach in the village of Rungus.
The Maulud rejoiced.
Kota Marudu we go.
Still raining until while ago!
Kota Kinabalu
21 Jan 2014
Categories:
well intentioned, adventure, august, beach, beautiful,
Form:
Ballad
Memories are walls
desecrated by graffiti of remembrance
well intentioned people
all around
and me
playing that „warm rabbit“ game
(take a guess who the rabbit is)
it feels like I'm one of those happy faces on Kerouac's road
I feel like an idiot
it has to feel like that when you deliver a piece of self so other can step on it
even though stepping on it was not intended
but
not knowing what to do with it
they just step on it
when mistake acquires a form of face
leave some words unspoken – they taught me
it is nicer to be humanly than fashionably conscious – they taught me
so i just have a message for you: eat ****,
you have devoured all of my cookies anyway so
by academic degree
babbitry of yours couldn't be washed – they failed
when iron clew entangles in your chest
oversleep
it will go away
it always does – they failed
wrist is accustomed on postponement
and I have forced expression
for every urbanely pickled photography
that whore karma laid down one nice slap on my cheek
well
on what is left of it
****
... man is it's evolution
* warm rabbit was notorious practice in jail for political prisoners in Yugoslavia (Goli otok) where when a new prisoner came prison guards would forced prisoners to line up in two rows and new prisoner had to walk through and other prisoners were forced to beat him with any object available until prison guards said it's enough.
Categories:
well intentioned, life,
Form:
Free verse
I have been a sieve bucket
Of shiny plastic parts,
Containing reasonable sands of logic, time and place-
Drastically mixed with the fluidity of natural human race,
And oddly and inconveniently, a subspace
For an awkwardly large heart.
Why has its energy, connective and warm,
Imploded my zone of comfort?
Its vibrations teemed my walls, exploited my woes
Which till now have composed me quite conveniently
In perfect shell form?
I have molded realities into peaks and castles,
Beautiful for a brief moment as life’s own art,
Yet crumbling too soon into shackles-
The sand’s plans (though well intentioned)
Never seem to properly span across
This aforementioned large heart?
I have ignored its pulsing cries of recognition,
Smashed its value to the depths of nothingness
To breach partitions of Universal fate’s recipe
For flow and season in forced perfection;
Yet muddied and worn, wretched and torn,
It still giggles and glows-
Defying all logical reason.
In anguish I have begged, dear heart, for disintegration!
Why do you lay idle in seeming nonchalance?
Why have you not flooded these holes of my soul
And flowed out to which creation compels me?
Will Love and light ever overflow my muddy plastic half?
I smugly wait and listen in demand of a response!
A few beats, a laugh.
You shine upon me for a quiet moment, wretchedly glistening.
Have I dared to set aside my fear and gain the courage to finally listen?
The message you have needed to convey
Resonates to me quietly,
In recognition of my soul’s ambition:
“Why don’t you merely give me away?”
A simple response, I answer in action (in giving to you, my true):
For I begin building my fate only from today;
Creating with purpose and satisfaction,
Eternally anew.
Categories:
well intentioned, devotion, faith, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
The happiest times in my life came late
After military service and my college years
Mid-thirties, I would not hesitate to say,
I finally moved beyond many crippling fears
Determining my own destiny, my path in life,
Away from the dysfunctional family I knew
Free, at last, from years filled with strife,
Long after my mama was gone; father, too,
I have vivid memories of crying copious tears
Because of my alcoholic father’s sadistic abuse
For which, of course, there was no excuse,
I nourished relationships with friendly peers.
An early failed marriage must be mentioned,
Two wonderful children before it fell apart
As a father, I was extremely well-intentioned
But it’s hard to maintain with a broken heart.
By my forties, I achieved success in my career
Rebuilt with firm foundations, married again,
And my life shifted into, I’d say, high gear
I found purpose in life in a meaningful domain.
The last half of life has been happy, for sure,
Thirty-five years with my dear wife was grand
It took a long time for me to become mature
Realizing it all has a purpose to understand,
I learned lots with Deborah holding my hand.
Written August 9, 2022
Categories:
well intentioned, abuse, childhood, growing up,
Form:
Bio
For two weeks, at all hours, I watched FIFA games
Familiarizing myself with all the players' names
But I won't be viewing the World Cup anymore
after the favored U. S. team was unable to score
Too much drama was promoted, so it would seem
over not singing the National Anthem, but I'd deem
their focus was on winning, as I think it should be
and not on patriotic agendas, "My country tis of thee."
A penguin (mascot) waddles so he can't play football
If he had tried, he'd have stumbled and taken a fall
Not once did I hear his name, Tazunis, mentioned
I don't think that slight of him was well intentioned
The U.S. team was defeated by Sweden in overtime
Their goalie, Zecira Musovic, played a game sublime
Time after time her heroic efforts prevented a score
No goals had been made, but the game was not a bore
U.S. women won the first tourney game by one goal
but wouldn't "Do it Again" and lost their favorite role
They didn't play, "Beyond Greatness," not even close
It was time they fly home and to Australia say, "Adios."
Categories:
well intentioned, endurance, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm a half-century's old big girl
a big, fat mature, grown-up girl
in many shy quite, quiet ways
a prolific foot traveler by way of tennis shoes
and hot and cold determination
but on this day of our Lord's
may seventh Twenty Seventeen
leaving your long gated
very public city vehicle
I presided to say
Thank you with a very
well intentioned verbal faze
but contemptuous words
re-spouted back to me
as to mock some kind of warning to me
as if I haven't received many already
why, give me more grief and distress
when i am so poverty-stricken without
harmony of mutual justice
and your pockets are full with
phlegmatic abuses
worry no more
for no one perceives' me
and I am of no importance
due to paramount's of low social ranking
Categories:
well intentioned, abuse, bullying, christian, evil,
Form:
Bio