Best With Impatience Poems
Your poetry talks to me in the moody night
a voice of indigo telling me secrets of pain and love
while Luna licks my ear with impatience for my excitement,
I begin to walk faster, like a wolf on a scent, your red scent,
following shadows into sounds of howling winter
seeking just one more whisper from your passion
one more paw print in the hard snow of destiny,
will I ever find your lair of love in the cold night
I swear that I can see the copper glow of your eyes -
J.A.B.
Down in my hearts ocean
I will drown in my selfish emotion
My hearts empty room yet deafening commotion
My heart is black, sitting with no motion
As I throw stones to skip in the sea
As a symbol of sympathy
Cause this ocean is a endless hole
And one day, It'll fill full
And a weight that sits on my shoulders
Painful and as heavy as boulders
Dragging me under the ground
Into the ocean until I drown
Surrounded by burning coal
In this seemingly endless hole
Now covered in ash
Burning skin and soul
Crawling up through the grime
Rushing with impatience and so little time
The water and blood weighing down on my chest
And my hands loose grip and become numb, maybe for the best
But with a gasp of air which I now crave
I break through ash and coal and rise above my grave
But the burning ambers on my body took its toll
My souls puppet of flesh now a ragdoll
With no movement I float above the sea of blood
A heart that had a pain flood
The walls are going to fall and cave in
But I have two arms which can hold up anything
So limp and so cold
Reaching upward for something to hold
Now I am freezing even with all the coal and fire
But I break through with strong will and desire
Stuck in this thick pool of memories
I have stepping stones helping me
Step by step I emerge from this this hole below
And soon it will be a distant memory from long ago
Three-Legged Table
As I drove through an old neighborhood, I spotted a garage sale sign.
I pulled off to the side of the street. With impatience, I couldn't get out
of the car quick enough. Right in front of the drive sat a vintage,
small drop-leaf, three-legged, brass lion claw Duncan Phyfe red mahogany table.
The price was outrageously cheap. I could not resist in buying this magnificent well-kept antique table. I managed to put it in the trunk and securely tied
a rope to the trunk lash so, it would slightly close and the table wouldn't fall out while I drove home.
high expectation
valuable old treasures
arouse excitement
In my living room, well-polished table sits. An old fashion crochet doily is used as a coaster for a vintage Fenton Hobnail milk glass with ruffle edge vase, filled with fresh cut gardenias, and a pair of matching candleholders.
antique possessions
constructed with great prudence
ages have long passed
I won 1st place in the school oratorical contest
I got to say my poem in front of the whole school and they gave me a medal
I was proud that I was 1st
But he never told me.
Where was his medal?
When I found out, I told everyone and waited for the parade to begin.
Mother (who made much ado over my medal) said,
“Oh, really? I'm not surprised. Do you know he left breadcrumbs all over
the floor yesterday?
Didn't even clean them up!”
I was confused.
Do icons have to clean up breadcrumbs?
But he never told me.
“We just dug a lot of trenches for the ammo dump.”
He winked as he said the Marines kept him safe just for me.
He did tell me about "friendly" fire
from White boys standing over them as they dug ditches
but White men are always shooting at Black men - so I thought little of it.
As I rode his knee he used funny words like Guam and Guadalcanal
and he taught me to sing,
"from the Halls of Mon-te-zu-u-ma to the shores of Trip-po-lee . . ."
But never said he was the first to sing it.
He said, “We trained at Camp LeJune”, but never mentioned Montford Point.
As he tied his shoe he said he was a bit too young to be there.
“But I wanted to choose the Corps so I volunteered.”
When I had lived enough to navigate the oceans between
Camp LeJune and Montford Point - I asked,
“Dad, Do you know what you did? You never told me.”
Struggling to share memories clogged by clouds of time he chuckled.
“Yep, we were some of the first but I just didn't think nothin' about it.
It was just one of those things.”
Now I know what it means to be first.
Miss out on medals and parades - and think nothin' of 'em.
A silent machete carving ways through colored lines . . .
As we wiggle with impatience in our snow pants
while they bundle us up for the cold and put on our mittens.
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(slack jaw froze mine countenance
when eyes blinded with figurative
daggers asper mistakes in original draft,
hence...this flood proof, fire resistant,
and fever reducing error free version.)
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingeniousness emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled and docked by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over active imagination whirs.
Just Within Reach
What was I able to do compared to you?
I had no clue
I couldn't chew more, at my grasp
My soul clasp to seek for you
The mind refuses to focus
Filled with impatience aimless
ungratifying life
to strife with purpose
A gnawing realization
Soak rain clouds and beaten
My bubble has burst
Slipped out of my fingers cursed without question
The years have passed
Still yearning in the back of my mind steadfast
The wealth of my vision and shout in my ears
will not hear to them unsurpassed
© 4/15/2015
Being only man,
Waiting till I die is hard
More than it is long
I walk razor sharp
On the edge of true belief
Bruised with impatience
In a double world
Of sinister partitions
And a squalid mask
Judas has come back
Again in each lukewarm saint
His coming pushed back
I keep but one faith
One longing decrees my will
For the jasper gate
But look, the false throng
Their ancient pretense cuddling
In tensed rituals
So I sag with it
My bleeding feet on the edge
Of the flaming sword
Welcome, just me in
Let me see the primal tree
Shield me from their sin
I’m infatuated with you! You make my heavenly skies blue
You brighten up most my days and make me want to love you in a sexual kind of way
Yes, I’m infatuated with you
And in your love, with each stroke, your body, makes me want more
Oh, I’m infatuated with you
Your soft caress against my chest
Your smooth, black, beautiful skin
This thing between you and I, so good, let’s not be friends
I’m infatuated by your tone, as we talk on the phone
And how someday you are being my man
And how someday our love might begin
I’m infatuated by your big feet, your beautiful white teeth
I’m infatuated by you, you are like my finest treat, as sweet as can be, and super steady like a constant heartbeat
I’m infatuated by the way your lips taste, your warm embrace.
I’m infatuated with you
Your skin though, your skin tone makes my body yearn and moan with impatience and shut in desire, because you are that flame that strikes my fire
I’m infatuated with you
Yes, you brighten up most my days, and show me sexual love in every way
You please me with the way you tease me
When you have stepped away, even for just a day, my body cannot wait
I’m infatuated by you, yes, you
You turn my heavenly skies blue
I’m infatuated with you, you young sexy young thang you
The space between us is becoming tense
I smile to reassure you
The waiter’s hands are clenched
With impatience, he looks at you
You look at me I want to flee
It’s obvious there won’t be a second date
Please believe it was a mistake
I forgot my wallet on our first date
Die Hard Smokers And Taxes
Die hard smokers, by the thousands countrywide, they rightly feel a bit abused…
Ouch! A latest 40% hike in price for a ciggie pack, they are definitely not amused…
Now is the time, they should be encouraged to rethink over their preference …
With rising costs, each ciggie stick costs a bomb, and financially makes a difference..
Some might swallow their pride and make e cigarettes their latest passion….
Others just might take one last long pull, called it quits as they exhale their pollution…
Those die hards who swagger on with their now expensive habits as a form of rebellion…
Are mistaken in their perception that this habit is identified with resilient and successful people..
Here in Malaysia, we are going through pretty hard times, with a new service tax and a weak ringgit..
To a man, everyone tries to hold fast to each lifestyle by stretching the buying power of the ringgit..
It makes little sense for any sane man to be literally burning the ringgit with each lighted cigarette…
During these days of weakened ringgit, it is the prudent man who does away with his cigarettes…
While the poor spouse who nags with impatience, puts up with all the tobacco scent and smoke…
Imagine the anguish and frustration amidst the coughing fits and the perpectual swirling smoke…
Horrific images on ciggie packs are not a good deterrent, those who smoke hardly spare a look…
All types of campaigns, written articles detailing a plethoria of illnesses and diseases by the book…
What else is there to portray and highlight as we try convincing our smoke belching brothers…
Reduce smoking, refresh the environment and we all get to live longer together as brothers…
He drives the beat with a burning heat,
The rhythmic fire of the street.
It synthesizes, energizes, maximizes
Life's every situation, with harmonic fluctuation.
The sound that abounds and resounds from somewhere deep.
He's found the soul of it, out on the street.
Every ounce of energy flows with simplistic synergy.
Passion and desire light his instrumental fire.
Chaos brings a cadence, laden with impatience.
Soft placid rhythms, well they just aren't in him.
But those frantic pounding beats, coming from the street,
Are a bold presentation of his soul's imagination.
TLH © 05-24-2012
Entered into: Be Yourself Contest
From his perch in the aspen tree
A young goldfinch sings
an ancient melody,
‘searching for wings
to help me fly
through the afternoon sky.
Eyes contemplate wisps of cloud
floating by.’
Mind clings and grasps.
Rainy Mountain
blocks my path.
Heart has her own task,
food comes first.
Then thoughts of future
or past.
I seek guidance,
but wait with impatience
For the bluebell to blossom.
What is this flower’s wisdom?
Says Master Hsu,
‘Waiting has it’s virtue.’
Set loose from its cage,
The wind blows open a new page.
With impatience, we leave
for a broader world covered in gloom
With imprudence, we deliver ourselves
Into a brand new darkness
With grace, we thrive
And embrace the bleak future of our lives
It's just how the society works, I guess
I've tried many times to theorize why we are
And why we hate all
I've tried many times to love
Only to be met with violence
Oh, dear society please keep it up
Maybe if I shout high enough
I will be understood
Maybe if I cursed loud enough
You'd hear me out
I'm just a pitiful error;
Unfit for modern society's perfect biology.
With anger, we delve down
Into a bloody hell that everyone seems to love
With anguish, we march to the tone
The tone to injure ourselves to
With perfection, we love
And I hate you
It's just how the society works, I guess
I've learned that all of us are fake pieces of rubbish;
I've learned we're all littering a beauty that we rape slowly, surely
Oh, dear society please keep it up
Maybe if I hurt immensely,
I can inflict these wounds onto you as well
Maybe if I leap down the concrete tundra,
I can make it rain acid on your precious face
We're all pitiful errors;
we're all perfect for one another
Screw your creations, beast
Screw your ideals
Society, please glue my shattered pieces
Into your deviated masterpiece
I hate you...
Maybe if I die slow enough,
I can enjoy the burning of it all
Maybe if my corpse mocks well enough,
I can stir tears in your toilet eyes
Pitiful error;
that's all we ever were.
Looking for a happy romance,
And a pair of sincere eyes
Looking for a slowly dance
And a very random chance
Looking for a real lady
Who can handle life with care
Looking for a light of candles
And amazing sparkling glance
Looking for a miracle
Looking for a smile
Looking for a happy days
And of course sweet night
Looking for a miracle,
Looking for a girl,
Looking for a deepest eyes
And a flight of soul
Looking for my little queen
Who can keep emotions keen
Looking with impatience
Where you are my happy chance?
That man that stands in front of us,
With his combed over hair, wearing
Ancient shoes and a semi vacant
Stare, who’s card does not work
And oh, sort of knows that there
Is some currency somewhere,
Between his trousers and luck,
A remote pocket, the only
Believer’s face was his own,
As always, he proved us wrong,
Placing his few things in a doubled up
Obsolete, vintage matching brown
Carrier bag, turning slowly,
His short steps were impaired,
Limping away as we watched,
With impatience, in alignment
Until, the deeper truths
Unleased a catharsis of empathy
and despair, not a word was said
of that significant moment we shared.