Best Wisdom Poems | Poetry

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New Wisdom Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Wisdom poems are below this new poems list.

WISDOM OF THE FATHER IN THE SON by Deo, Anil
Seeds of Wisdom by Lamoureux, Richard
THE HOLLOW TREE OF WISDOM by Talbot, Mick
GOD GRANTS ME HIS WISDOM by Agustin, Beata
Wisdom Of Death by Miltz, Daniel
Whence Wisdom by Brewer, Geoffrey
Wisdom by Rigoler, Maurice
Fires Of Wisdom by Miltz, Daniel
Mother's Wisdom by Donnelly, Artsieladie Sharon
Wisdom by Mills , Susannah

View all new Wisdom Poems

The Best Wisdom Poems

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Disposable Wisdom

Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?

Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace

More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry

Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage

Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience

Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing

In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby

She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II	
Annie received little compensation

This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty

To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home

With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse

Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009


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India

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


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Revelation

They always said I was "special" or useless,
full of excuses, slow to learn but my wit had a quickness,
so I decided to embrace my uniqueness,
and look at me now leaving people speechless.

They challenge me and their ego decreases,
they think I'm an easy target all blonde and simple,
but I can tie laces and pull down bridges,
leaving red faces on all those people.

I'm just a nuisance that you cannot silence,
it's just the written word it's not acts of violence,
but offensive 'cus I've mastered the art of deliverance,
I went from special needs to the rank of brilliance.

I'm an example of how evolution is impossible to prevent,
I don't have a need for revolution, I don't give up and reinvent.
I'm this generations arrival of something different,
and what that means is anything but insignificant.

It's just the basic nature of our creature,
the arrival, the stay and the retreat,
a rotation of stature and main feature,
allowing the old to take their seat.

I've realised that being different is a gift
able to move you above the competition.
It's a rare dynamic thought process that lifts
out a unique idea missed by everyone.

It's a natural advantage to protect from sabotage,
that has an exceptional outcome way above average.
I don't need to hide out of sight wearing camouflage,
I have the right tools and ambition to build my own bridge.

I write rhymes but it was never predicted,
people thought my brain was restricted,
I always allowed their insults to inflict,
listening to put downs meant my mind was tricked.

Then I stopped listening and my confidence lifted,
and found that being unique also means gifted.

Many remembered by history were not deemed ordinary,
I guess "the odd kid" grows into the extraordinary.
Creating their very own original story,
billions lived but they stay in the memory.

So, I guess, with a self belief that could be me,
and if not at least the illusion makes me happy.


29/03/18
P.O.T.D 30/03/18


Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018


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What dead eyes sees

                    Imagine you have died ~ a free spirit without a cry

  Walking down the avenue ~ people passing straight through you

     Hearing whispering thoughts to blind ~ some of good intentions ~ others 

                 intertwined

  Emotions running wild ~ the same old jungle ~ the same old sigh ~ you 

           begin to wonder why

  Imagine seeing yourself ~ an unfamiliar face ~ someone else of 

           another time or place

Somehow you could see the good and bad ~ why hearts are broken ~ the 

                inner sad

Imagine you could live again ~ knowing fully well ~ No one loses ~ no one 
     
                   wins

   All the patterns and deceptive roles ~ a chaotic system ~ way 

             out of control

 Imagine you have another chance ~ to right some wrongs ~ to understand 

     ~ the way things really go down ~ 

        
  Would you be the same ~ You'd surely say ~ It’s impossible to tell ~ 

within the concepts  of heaven and hell


Copyright © Arturo Michael | Year Posted 2018


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To Take Each Day As It Comes

To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.

To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.



*A resolution during a time of disappointment.

Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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Fragile

Tenderly ...
As if robin's eggs ...
I consider the brittle fragments of her heart,
Cupped in my tarnished Tin Man hands ...
Not taking for granted the entrustment of their care,
I lay them out like priceless puzzle pieces
Upon a surface of loving intent.
She is but finery, fragile,
And I her fool.

Considerately ...
As if leaves on water ...
I recall the women and passions squandered,
Encounters and affairs and intimacies ...
As spicy, splendid and varied as an artist's palette -
Some, immutable as acrylics, others fading like watercolors in the sun,
Swept away by life's intrepid courses and floods.
Love is but portion, fragile,
And I its fool.

Delicately ...
As if disarming a bomb ...
A Muslim man cleans the lifeless body of his little boy,
Killed by a roadside explosive device while riding his bicycle ...
A mine left behind by an enemy brigade, retreating his town as part of a truce,
His Hindu brother's brigade - the brother he loves ... and despises.
Washing his son with his tears, he thinks of naught but vengeance.
Peace is but sufferance, fragile,
And I its fool.

Exquisitely ...
As if fine goose down ...
I scrutinize the keynotes of my existence,
Turning them gently over with the voltaic breath of my thoughts ...
To the effectuation that none afford me the broadsword of achievement,
That the faults far outnumber the fortunes ... successes, far short the falls.
Still, I've known the passions and shadows as deeply as any,
Formidable joys, exquisite agonies, and sublime oblivions.
Life is but passage, fragile,
And I its fool.

Poignantly ...
As if fine lacy crystals ...
We gild the memories of lost loves and those passed,
Consummate hurts and piercing heartaches ...
Each and every one a precious memento of the depth of affections realized,
Scars and wounds, the invaluable proofs of how profound our devotions, thus. 
Oh, how intensely we love! How dearly we grieve!
And how acute our need for BOTH!
Pain is but love, fragile,
And we its fools ...

Its sad, happy fools.



** FIRST PLACE in the "Fragile" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor. **


Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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Cascading Love



By the breath of God frost is given ...
Hast thou entered into 
the treasures of the snow? ...
Out of whose womb came the ice?
and the hoary frost of heaven, 
who hath gendered it?
— Job 37:10; 38:22,29


Standing in the winter cold,
tasting the small snowflakes that fall
I think of you, my God ...
and your boundless cascading love
You revealed to me the secret treasures of the snow
How each small act of kindness
is like one little glistening snowflake that the wind blow
Your love so heavenly dispersed
across the whole earth
Billions and billions of countless snowflakes,
I open my mouth wide to taste
So much heavenly love cascading down;
I see the virgin snow shining all around,
as more snowflakes of love fall to the ground
Your godly wisdom shows us
that the heart of man wax cold
So You reveal the warmth of Your endless love
in the form of the falling snow
Your evergreen shower of white love covers the whole earth
Each small snowflake 
represents an act of pure faith birth love
given to each individual
Billions and billions of souls,
and billions of countless yet-to-be more
Be fruitful and multiply God said:
Let the whole earth abound with love
I see the snowflakes of cascading charity
shed abroad from the heavens above
Such pure, falling white love 
Oh, how the cold feels so warm!
So much infinite love cascading down
Your love, my God, truly transforms
And more snow, more snow ... more snowflakes
keep falling out from the storm — 
like hoar frost manna
falling down from the sky
They’re heavenly tears of joy ...
descending, 
gently melting in my mind
Of whose falling,
I now know the meaning why


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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Invisible Colors



About our first parents,
here’s something beautiful to know
Adam was created perfect,
and from out of him, Eve followed
God said to His Son:
You and I, We are One 
Lets make them like us,
in Our image color them invisible
Give them one rainbow soul,
two spirits with hearts of gold
But the most precious gift of all,
God gave them a skin of faith
So they could live under the Son,
bathing in the bright rays 
of His love, free and unafraid
Using invisible colors,
is how Adam and Eve were body painted
With a faith paintbrush,
their children were meant to be picture perfect sainted
God made us all in His image — 
beautiful invisible colors
God said teach your children this one thing:
to love one another
God said to Adam and Eve:
your children are all sisters and brothers
For I have blessed them, you see,
to look like My Son and Me — 
Pure and holy invisible colors
We were meant to be fruitful and abound,
growing in love for one another
And I will confess right now:
We are One ... everybody connected to each other
And I love you and you and you,
for you are all my sisters and brothers
Looking good in our spiritual skin:
beautiful invisible colors ... 
beautiful invisible colors


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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All That Is Between


Dust, they say ...

Dust ... to dust, yet
I have measured the stars
Counted their intervals.
Felt oblivion's breath on my neck, keen

Kissed and cursed its face.
I have tasted sweet tongues
Cried for the bitter phrases they wag
Given fealty to their resonance

And the tamps and scratchings they quicken.
I have cradled inception in my hands
Felt it tremble with wonder ... and fear.
I have gazed on the bloom of consummation

Torn the tapestry from its form
And let it dance in my skin.
I have poured poison rapture into my veins
Yielded all I knew and held, to its heat

Soaked my marrow in its drip
And laughed at the madness of it all.
I have entered another soul
Swum up the rill to its source

And merged in the depths there
Lost forever ... complete.
Dust to dust, indeed.
Still, all that is ...

Between.




* TENTH PLACE in the "Favorite Free Verse (Not For A Contest)" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018


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The Drift

Hearts do fall in life
Burst into storms of ardour
Drift against anchor.
Confine your heart to reason
When not ready for the tide.


Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018


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THE WHEEL HAS COME FULL CIRCLE

What goes up must come down. 
No colors can define who you are. 
You may own a cart or limousine. 
We'll still reach the end when it is near. 
I may be poor today and eat from trash. 
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash. 
The bed where you lie is soft and wide. 
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp. 
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table 
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able. 
Our destiny isn't written in the stars. 
We work for a living to thrive in this life. 
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun 
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I. 
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round. 
Today you'll be on top, 
I am watching from the ground. 
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds. 
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed. 
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes. 
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life. 



sponsor:FRANK H.

name of 
contest: SHAKESPEARE

*5th Place winner










Copyright © Aiyah Torres | Year Posted 2014


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Enlighten Me

"Haiku of enlightenment"

all explanations 
a perceptive, world of green
mocking the land

summoned bird calls
tantra and morality 
zestful garden-----------------  in waiting 

by;pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014


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To Forgive Or Not To Forgive

To forgive or not to forgive, that is the question.
When you are offended, whether real or imagined
by a loved one, a friend, or by someone esteemed,
do you confront the other, or resolve to be patient?

If by some stroke of luck, the offender apologized
but turns around, talking glib gobbledygook,
do you keep silent and still, looking cool as ice,
or do you tell it to his face, that he’s more than a crook?

At such time as this, or any time for that matter,
it is best to forgive whether he asks for it or not.
Do not poison your heart with cyanide blather;
bitterness can bother like a bat’s up your butt!

Forgiveness frees the offended from the devil’s deceit;
and makes you smile at the debtor, as his debt, you forfeit.



*First line draws on Hamlet's soliloquy, Act III, Scene 1; W. Shakespeare

A modern sonnet.  
06 October 2015
Poem of the Week - October 11 to 17, 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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The Ladybug's Whisper

And the ladybug placed a caressing whisper into dragonfly’s ear,
“I want to fly again. I crave to flap my tiny wings towards sunset’s crux. 
I want to breathe again. I want to be held like winds within canyon’s dialect.”

“But, first, I just need to scream.”

…

Let me be your breeze.

In
One
Fell
Swoop

…

The power to swim!
The power to grin!
The desire to never, ever fall again!

Let us embrace conundrum’s waterfall to be its resolution!
Let us allow joy to be our bedtime lullabies!
Let us let love IN without full moon’s dependency!

Ride on this impeccable jet stream towards animosity’s downfall!

Look in the face of your beautiful enemies
Daring it to stand above pedestal’s fallacy
Let your radiance be their final intimacy!

Take incipient steps,
Upon mended asphalt wishes

Let them tremble at the sight of your beautifully embattled smile
Knowing they will never reciprocate

Where desert winds kneel in our reflections
For we are an oasis
Forged of blood diamonds; sacrificial memories

Breezes become gusts
Gusts become worshipped exhales

All that I am!
All that you are!
All that they hope to be!

Our Yin & Yang
Will release proverbial boomerangs
Breaking vicious circles upon this genesis

We sway above greener pastures.

Gusts become breezes.

One
Fell
Swoop

Breaking enigmatic mirrors to see your true colors
With a scream to paint your new canvas

…

The time is now,
Let your two feet become one.

Rise, my ladybug!
Rise

Say goodbye
To detrimental trials

And caress newfound trust
Within a gentle

S				E
       M		 L
                 I

©Drake J. Eszes


Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013


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The Poet Warrior

My Dear Enemy
Here I am
In full armor
My quill is full of arrows
My bow is taunt and ready fro battle
My horse is pristine and shiny black
I am your enemy
As you are mine to the death
I shall take my bow and arrow
Pierce you through the heart
My king shall praise and honor me
For many battles so well fought
I know I have to shoot my arrows
To save my own pitiful soul

My dear enemy
I just long for you to know
Every arrow, every drop of blood
Every soul that must depart
Due to my fine skills and sharp arrow darts
I die along with you
I know not who you are
Yet a weep for your lost soul
I imagine other times
Maybe we would sit for tea and cookies
Laughing over words of glee
You and I so battle ready
I am sorry for all the battle scars
The blood that flows so deep
Every arrow that leaves my bow
I am sure it too, also weeps

My Dear Enemy
I prey today that before the dusk
One of you will have a finer bow
My heart no longer has the will
To fill my quill with arrows so
Today, I let one of you end my day
No longer can I live on this way
All my fine arrows fired
Have finally been on target
My Dear Enemy
I love you as any man
I have only love for humanity
I pray one day
Our Kings and Queens shall feel this way
As off the battle field, I am carried away


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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Everyday is Beautiful

Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.

Tuesdays are for Tenderness, for the little things found beneath the rubble:
a flower peeking or a new-dream seeking, even though its subtle.

Wednesdays are for Wishes --- like hoping on that pretty, pretty star,
for something just around the corner is never all that far.

And Thursdays are for Thoughtfulness, on those reflective afternoons,
where all of life hangs between your ears, as your heart struggles to make room
for all the love that's bursting inside of you ...

            (I know it's there!
                        hiding somewhere ... perhaps beneath the dirt and muck)

Fridays are for Friendship --- to the ones who you know true,
and hold you oh so close, despite all of life's various hues.

Saturdays are for Sanctification from all of distraction's clutter;
an occasion to make small your piece of toast, for there's too much of time's butter,
spreading oh so thin on Little You.

And Sundays are for Sunflowers, and the smile that ensues on even the coldest soul.
Treasure it child, if you ever see it bloom, for she's a fragile beauty that makes you whole.

Yes, my son ... EVERY day is beautiful, and Mondays especially,
for that's the day we praise our Mothers,
for giving birth to us at such a time as this      (God knows it wasn't easy)
And no, I don't need to see the Seven Wonders,
to know how beautiful life can be,
for I've got all the splendor I can handle ...

... seven days a week.




Image Used: The I Hate Mondays T-Shirt Picture

Written April 10th, 2016
For the Images Contest Hosted by Silent One


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016


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MY HYPOCRISY

Were I to know your depth’s degree
I’d want to dive quite fearlessly
give all the things required of me
to plunge into our destiny.

Were I to touch the heaven’s gate
I’ll even bear hell’s jealous hate
for being in this tortured state
you’ll see that I’m your destined fate.

Were I to scale the steepest height
of friendship's pleasure and delight
I’d want to share our deep insight
fun and laughter each day and night.

Were I to taste your sweetest kiss
I’d want to stay, that I won’t miss
for too long I did wait for this
the moment our souls meet…a bliss.

Were I to hear your heart’s desire
I'd want to touch, feel the fire
the fiercest heat while wind and choir
rise to the highest notes of lyre.

Were I to hold the strength of yours
absorb the substance of your force
I’d want to leave a charted course
and row with passion’s guiding oars.

Were I to ride the ocean’s waves
before it feeds the tempest’s graves
I’d want the shelter your heart saves
for you my love, it’s I… who craves.

But, were you to ask this of me 
be your true love eternally
I still cannot accept, you see
…this is my sad hypocrisy.

So I'll pretend not loving you
I'd rather hurt ourselves in lieu
of people who shared our lives' hue
before my world got splashed by you.


KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
What is Your Hypocrisy Contest - 1st Place
08 April 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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Moment of Truth


I was walking with two friends of mine,
when we saw a woman
who was tall, beautiful and black
They spoke lewd to her,
so she didn't speak back
In their rejected anger,
they cursed her in a cruel, mean tone
That's when I interceded,
and said leave the poor woman alone
My two friends looked at me
like I was some kinda traitor
That day we parted ways,
there would be no more days of see ya later

In a moment of truth,
will you stand up for the truth
Or will you back down,
and keep your mouth shut

It's moments like those
that reveal what manner of person you are
Will you be naked or clothed,
will your spirit be dark,
or will it shine like a star

Nobody ever said friendships are forever,
not when you have to compromise
your integrity in a matter

In a moment of truth,
don't keep your mouth closed
Let your voice roar
like a lion, strong and bold


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016


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Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.

She the vixen nobody could resist
her vanishing pleasures - elusive mists,
long legs descend from heavenly skies
later, such dark pains in lamented cries.

Victim once thought to be heavenly bound
lost, voiceless, no understandable sound,
finds temptress, sexy wares designed to win
she that siren alluring to all men.

You scratch that itch, risking your own peril,
finding wounds that can never be sterile!

12-15- 2016


For Daniel Turner's , What Was I Thinking,  Contest
15 December 2016

Last verse inspiration, from his poem "Between the Lines

Couplet sonnet
Rhyme Scheme:  a a – b b – c c – d d – e e – f f – g g
10 syllables each line.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016


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Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

At that age wisdom says life is a joke
consider blindness of other poor folk.
Stop to ponder why on earth we exist
you may just find giving on that big list.

To live well, love hard and thus procreate
easy to see easier to relate.
Living life together with your soulmate
should be a part of everybody's Fate!

Finding life is not about what you got
should be holding solid, number one spot
Tis more about life lived well and deeper
with one you found, knew to be a keeper

If long life, happiness is your great aim
if reaching not for it, you are to blame!

Robert J. Lindley, 1-16-2017
Sonnet



Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017


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Muse On The Loose


Where did she go...she left me in a spin,
     with words fragmented...where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held tight within her arms,
     and now I fear I'm left without her charms.

My missing thoughts and words in pieces lay;
     without a plan, they'll stay in disarray.
Where did she go, that artist of my soul;
     without her lead, no thoughts, no words, no goal.

My muse is on the loose, oh help me, please.
     She's gone for good...or is this just a tease?
My muse is on the loose, what happens now...
     I'm crushed, forsaken...this I can't allow.

I looked into the den where books are kept;
     way high up on the shelves, and then I crept
down cellar stairs among the antiques there,
     then up again, climbed second story stair.

I looked in every corner, neath the bed;
     no sign of her, but then I soon was led
up to the attic with great window view...
     entranced, she sat, and that is when I knew.

My muse was on the loose to find new scenes,
     and now beside her, inspiration streams.
The vision of the mountains, valleys, sky... 
     so beautiful it made me gasp and sigh.

Together we sat weaving thoughts and words,
     while hearing the sweet lullaby of birds.
I learned a poet's muse must be set free
     sometimes to find new views successfully.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Muse On The Loose
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 09/12/2016

Iambic Pentameter in Couplets





Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016


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CONFRONTING OLD AGE



 
 

I see you coming, old age
Approaching at an ever accelerating pace,
Your face so grim
Your expression so austere
Your look so menacing,
A frightening sight you are
 
Many battles I have fought in life
With vigor and youth at my side
Thus victorious I emerged

But

Now that my allies slowly abandon me
One after the other,
I am left alone the last battle to fight
A battle, I know beforehand I am bound
To lose

However

At this moment as trials begin
When all seem to get tougher by the day
A new ally I have found, willing to help me,
All my courage to amass for to confront you,
Oh merciless old age:
The wisdom I have acquired all these years 
Of my life! *




© Demetrios Trifiatis
       18 June 2017

* This poem was honored as POTW on the 25th of June 2017. I thank everyone who has appreciated it as everyone who visit me and comment for without their love nothing would have been possible. THANK YOU PS! 



Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017


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Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

1.
In nightmarish dreams he found such great dread
Of lost hope, life's decay, eyes of the dead.
Day's clear lights his damaged mind repaired
Deep traps from which his heart had been ensnared.
In sunshine he felt life's returning glows
Erase night pains and darkest of its blows.
As sun waned and shadows of dark arrived
He felt again, joy vanquished, love deprived.

2.
What of this devilish, persistent foe
With such powers, its broken claws regrow.
Hope alone, can evil be defeated
Or must Fate decree, his life be cheated.
In sun's bright shining hours his heart grew bold
Oft from tales of warriors of old.
On such bright days his thoughts returned to her
Destroyed dark powers that made life a blur.

3.
Where deepest love passions reign, hope survives
For in man's inner soul, true love revives.
Times and cherished moments serve to remind
With love's great truth, one can never go blind.
Standing firm with knowledge of man's powers
One can face even darkest of dark-hours.
Faith, love and hope are the right paths to take
All the rest are results of blind mistakes.

4.
Armed with newfound wisdom and clearer path
He had weapons to overcome Fate's wrath.
Every night before falling fast asleep
Head bowed, he recited prayers true and deep.
As new dawn's brighter lights came, his heart knew
Torments were over, as joys in life grew.
Found true, cursed Fate can be defeated
If one but lives, each day truth is greeted.

8-24-2017




Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017


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Lost uplifting extended edit

He cried for help using a silent cord,
but silent cries always get ignored.
He couldn't remember how life rewards,
and from his eyes the tears then poured.

He ran away from life because he became scared,
but he ran into the wild and stands impaired.
With too much time passed since he last cared,
in this isolation he thinks how better he's faired.

He realised the run from people guided him here,
but he now wishes people were somewhere near.
Stuck still in this spot on his lonesome chair,
now thinking that unsighted decision was unfair.

Supressed anger created this mental cage,
and out of practice his mind won't engage,
without exercise he's to weak to turn the page,
and there are no steps leading upto the stage.

They say a man's got to do what a man's got to do,
but what does a man do when he hasn't got a clue.
When there are no thoughts in his brain to choose,
when he's lost it all and yet there's more to lose.

He's a prisoner to depression and all its dark forces,
cornered with one card to play and it requires endurance,
survive and get lucky or hang in and die of natural causes,
avoiding the actions of suicide are of the most importance.

Sometimes all you can do is survive,
and hope for the day of the changed tide,
sometimes all you can do is survive,
it's a certain death if you move, so just hide.

The weeks pass by with the outlook bleak,
everyday he weakens and feels completely beaten.
The adult with special needs that no curriculum can teach,
so he sinks deeper and deeper into his mind in retreat.

He's alone with only his own thoughts, reality is out of reach,
he dehydrates as he weeps his way through the slaughter,
each tear releases anguish and defeat which haunts him,
he thinks his minds defunct and in need of factory repair.

He wonders why he gives a f**k when there is no reason to care.
Continuously sinking deeper into a reluctant isolation,
only thankful for his loneliness because it hides humiliation.
He stays within his place of hiding because no options appear.

He just keeps hiding where he is, it's safe right here,
but all the while his thinking clarity disappears.
Driven to numbness and a world that feels no fear.
He knows of no pleasure or luxury and cries another tear.

Inside he feels a bubbling up powerful fury, 
it comes and goes offering a flicker of curiosity,
within its short lived burst he feels a warmth of bravery,
but then it's supressed by depression, owner of mental slavery.

In alliance with anxiety the result makes him a panic attack liability,
and that instantly retracts social skills and detaches him from society.
The only way to survive all this is to hide in the rocks of a cave,
back to basics, he waits, himself he hates as no one comes to save.

He's scared and angry and he thinks back to how he behaved,
many in his life benefitted from the attention and time he gave.
All the time spent on his selfless actions, that wasn't returned,
and others then forget through distractions, those bridges burned.

He doesn't blame people though, they have to watch their own backs,
all do, it's vital, the key to his revival? Attributes of survival, the comeback.
This revelation brightens his mind, feeds his fury and removes his frightened.
Be brave, only he can save himself, he must stop hiding and fight to the end.

Sometimes all you can do is hide,
Sometimes you just need to survive.
Sometimes thoughts rise up inside,
that's the time to fight and try to thrive.

With thought and bravery he rises upto depression and eyes its dark forces,
this corner he's in makes him dangerous and becomes his great fortress,
he survived the crux and grew wise, still alive but of the most importance
he's acquired ceaseless resources, knowledge, no shortage, but he's cautious.

He has to watch his own back, he has to switch from defend to attack,
he has to be active and predict the perils, pitfalls and traps, no mishaps, 
he has to find energy, adrenaline, and fail to feel pain, find his sweet chariot,
every man for himself, a test of character, no more quiet, time to war and riot.

Sometimes all you can do is survive,
and from the dark a new chance will guide
you to instincts that only time provides, 
a vibe, the greats refuse to lay down and die.

Just keep living and never give in,
if you do this the enemy can't win,
feel yourself strengthen, feel it within.
Never give in, go into hiding, but again begin. 





Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018


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A Slow Hand, Deep Thoughts And True Pen

A Slow Hand, Deep Thoughts And True Pen

Each time I write of my crashed hopes and dreams
mind falls into black-depths, sends cold shivers.
Tempted to falsely praise my misdeeds and schemes
I return to my vow, embracing realm of true givers.

Such leaning towards positive and the good
once was abhorrent, not in my prideful style.
When lightning bolts struck me as they should
I found my life was a massive rubbish pile.

With pen and paper I then sought truth to tell
of life, love, loss and darkness once embraced.
O' yes, I did not hide my parades in hell
nor innocent young life I once so disgraced.

Years flew by and age gave its usual aches
far too oft, I swore to give my poetry up.
Darkness whispered, take well deserved breaks
porch lounge sit, empty thy hot coffee cup.

Ah, but my muse, she heard and was not amused
up she bolted, screaming like a raving banshee.
Reminded me of my past, my life I had so abused
what a coward I would be if I now sought to flee.

Pen in hand and regretful of my wasted past
I write to send some light and truth boldly tell.
Praying some good comes, a few words may last
redeem myself from youthful days dancing in hell.


 8-21-2017
( Seek to do good and watch as darkness flees )



Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017