Best With Pride Poems
Mother Nature swelled with pride
The Ozone dropped to its knees and cried
Seen yesterday as forever elusive
All types and traces of pollution had died
Humankind breathed in deeply
emotions all a-whirl
The oceans in unison rose
their waters a-swirl
On high, the angels burst into song
Jubilation had never lasted so long
The Old Man came down to have a look
~ to write a new chapter in His Book
I'm so thankful you're my mother
Where would I ever be
Without the tender loving care
You have always given me
Through all my growing up years
You taught me right from wrong
Showing me what's important
And giving me a song
Life has a way of pushing us down
But you were always there
To listen when I'd vent or cry
When life was so unfair
I know I gave you headaches
We made each other mad
I didn't always take your advice
But later, wished I had
These past few years have went by
With struggles far from few
But mom, you stood so strong
And helped to pull us through
Those weeks I spent in the hospital
You were with me every day
To help me eat and comb my hair
Or let me sleep the day away
You've been my rock through so much
Through the high points and the low
The time you've given is priceless
And I just want you to know
I'm always gonna need you
To be there by my side
No one could ever take your place
And I call you 'mom' with pride
The old veteran leaned on his cane watching the passing parade,
The usual equestrians, John Deere tractors, the local fire brigade.
With a trembling hand he saluted Old Glory as it passed by.
His chest swelled with pride - tears welled up in each eye.
The National Anthem streamed thro' his brain which he could yet cite!
(O', say, can you see by the dawn's early light.)
He recalled storming Normandy's shores with bombs screaming!
(What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming.)
His only concern midst battles' din was for comrades, left and right!
(Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro' the perilous night.)
He enlisted at age seventeen to keep freedom's torch beaming!
(O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming.)
He fought all thro' Europe and was honored to have done his share!
(And the rockets' red glare, and the bombs bursting in air.)
He thanked God that he survived due to his Mother's earnest prayer!
(Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.)
He remembered brothers who lay sleeping in hallowed grave,
(O', say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave.)
Who placed national interest above self, forfeiting life they freely gave!
(O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.)
He slowly lowered his trembling and gnarled hand to his side.
The old warrior stood tall that day and others noticed his pride!
He was honored to know the colors would grace his bier one day.
He watched 'til Old Glory was gone from sight and slowly shuffled away.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Colosseum bound
Celtic and captured, with pride
in witness I'm thralled to fight
no shield is required
being of Clan, delivers
with taste, respect, I strike
Embrace each and every day with pride
Written By Dean Masciarelli
November 18, 2010 (7:02am)
Embrace each and every day with pride;
and set all your fears and worries aside;
Because you really don’t have it that bad;
Compared to so many other people
in the world; including the children;
that have nothing; And they
don’t even know where there next meal
is coming from; so that they can be fed;
And it is truly saddening to see; so
much
suffering; taking place in our world;
At least you have a roof over your head;
and a nice comfy bed ;
to sleep in when you are tired;
Embrace each and every day with pride;
and set all your fears and worries aside;
Because you really don’t have it that bad.
Dear future
I am Sorry
Sorry we used nature as a credit card
with no spending limits
over drafting animals to extinction
stealing your chance to ever see their uniqueness or become friends with them,
Sorry we poison the ocean so much that you can't even swim in them,
But most of all sorry
for we lie to our mindset
and we had the nerves
to cause all this destruction
in the name of Progress
but the thing about the truth is
it can be denied but not Avoid
I am so sorry my dear Future generations,
in the name of progress,
I am sorry that our footprint
became a sinkhole and not a garden
I am sorry for we made up excuses
to build high tech homes
instead of planting more trees
But At last, This Future I don't accept it,
because and error
doesn't become a mistake
until you refuse to correct it
So people hear my cry
Hear Mother natures tears
I am no activist, no politician, no farmer
But am the sun of earth
and mother earth is telling me like the wise man
when the rivers are all dried up
and the trees have been all cut down
Man Will then realize
he will not be able to eat money
But I want to believe it not too late
So Do I have all believers
or are all of you guys
already transform by the partial good,
If not is not to late too make it right
It not too late to make it right
With Pride
By Joeysguy
It’s so dark in here, it must be night
I see an opening, I can see some light
Why are these people pulling on me
I guess out there I should be
I’m upside down, you hit me and I cried
That hurt and left me teary-eyed
Who’s this lady you put me alongside
Who’s this man staring with so much pride
Are they someone that I should know
When they leave will I also go
This lady says her name is mom
She puts out her hands and wants me to come
The man is called dad
They are so nice and never seem sad
Will this good feeling always last
Time has gone by and it seemed so fast
In the blink of an eye
I’ve learned what it is to cry
With little suffering and not much sound
Mom and dad are now in the ground
They said we are of one heart
Even in death we can never be apart
Now I look at this lady with our baby at her side
How beautiful, and I’m so full of pride
Remember Them with Pride
by Robert (Bob) Moore 2022
It’s not only for the missing,
the fallen, and the dead
but for all of those who went to war,
and for their country bled
Their normal life was placed on hold
and at their countries call
They marched toward a waiting foe
Though many of them would fall
Those who survived the carnage,
Would never be the same,
Friends they made, who did not return
they remember, always, their name
November the 11th
That is the day, we have set aside
to think of all these hero’s
and to Honour them with pride
For all these men were hero’s
those who returned, and those who did not
with many torn and shattered
from the blood, the shell, and the shot
Those of us, who stayed behind
to support them, though torn apart
they were members of our family
kept forever in our heart.
Bob Moore
when rule's concerned as a whole
total concreteness there's not seen
on the same world climate differs
language religion and many been
red blood smells differently on earth
even in same family and in same country
in polluted love true feeling's blurred
for self gain polishes self colors bluntly
wherever and whatever be anything
nothing's left to be unchanged in time
to love and feel in body heart's fixed
alas, now lung's love going to be prime
from the inception rule has been broken
history speaks in pages worldwide
for selfishness humanity's been crying
by breaking rule world's dreaming with pride
That rule was begging to be broken - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lewis Raynes
been watching you
not for your body
but your unique style
you are different from the rest without trying
from the colors you choose to the socks on your feel
really dig that you are natural from head to toe as well
you express the nature of your beauty and how proud you are of it
so down to earth in your character and your caricature
here i am in a dark corner....so afraid to approach you
i find my bravery in my gut, which tastes like bile, and go up to you and say a why hello
the look in your eyes when i mustered up the nerve to do so....
i wonder if you were waiting and hoping that i would....
i decide to be nosey and investigate
about four combined dr. peppers and a large bag of doritos later, we realize that it is 4am and that we have been laughing ourselves hoarse for seven hours straight nonstop
to this day....still watching you....bending down with a knowing smile and planting more flowers....
I shan’t be challenged by your shine
Nor made to feel the weaker
No dress shoe ever took the place
Of a family member’s sneaker
You may be worn to special places
And too, to gala events
But when it comes to relaxing times
I know with whom it’s spent
With me, with me, I’m always there
For comfort and for style
When needed to compete in races
I’m there for every mile
I withstand the test of time
As I evolve each year
But shoes can be so closet kept
While sneakers stay out here
So let me tell you here and now
Though I may have a rubber soul
Shoes be gone, you’re so passé
For sneakers have control
We label not only ourselves but others.
Multiple personality, schizophrenic, bi-polar.
Everyone fights for a seat at the Asperger table.
We all want to become something special.
Downing our valium and lithium pills at an alarming rate.
We are shaky and unsteady now; fuzzy thinking but content.
Because we have our labels, wearing them prominently.
Stamping our skin with tattoos of truth and valor.
We convince ourselves we are unique
When in fact, we are but a pack of minions
all vying for the same labels,
heading toward a sleepless night
Anxiety compounded upon anxiety
thanks to our ridiculous addiction to the news
Turn off the murders and rapes; we don’t need them!
But wait, maybe we do ….
to justify our labels.
This is a breezy and starry night,
with no strange sounds to induce its mystery;
lingering with sadness is the loneliest heart
opening the pages of an unfinished diary...
as I sit alone drinking my bitter wine,
but it should be sweet to make me feel fine!
Has anyone seen me swelling with pride,
wrapping my arms around her hips
and pressing on her soft and scented lips...
until my wild kisses would make my sweetheart fall:
wasting not a minute to convince her how I felt inside?
How could her jealousy have been the cause of imagination?
I couldn't help being noticed by ladies of indiscretion...
if I resembled an Adonis standing on a pedestal!
Should I find anyone to explain this rage with easiness?
Would anyone be willing to stand by me
and allow me to be the kind of lover I try to be,
or let me die without ever knowing the feeling of fullness?
I still wait by the doogwood tree
where that pretty star stood still...
giving us another reason to stay longer
by the glimmering waters of the river!
This is a peaceful and wonderful night
hearing the invisible crickets share their delight;
I lie beneath the shadows of tall trees,
and make my wish for more dreams:
hoping to never feel this cold,
being fully loved and understood...
Consumed by incomprehension,
somehow swelling with pride,
and yet I rest amid the dreams of incompletion;
my restless spirit has wings to soar high,
but it needs the strongest wind to lift it up...
and make it float 'till it can't stop!
Eyes looking for some shelter out along the fruited plain,
a place to rest my head in silence away from all the rain.
Seems the open sky is the only friend that I can trust,
I got no place to settle, I am doomed to wanderlust.
Drifting across the forests clinging to the mountainsides,
lurking in the cold places where the mad will always hide.
My feet are worn and tired and yet still I walk the miles,
there really isn’t much choice when you live as an exile.
There’s something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
Everything has a rule, either written or understood,
standing in the way of action, of doing any good.
Trying to speak to someone and it’s just some social game,
trying to get honest answers drives a man insane.
You try to use your reason and they call you cold and cruel,
but if you then use emotion they will say your 'anger-fueled.'
Act by your own judgement and they name you anti-social,
But acting by the will of others makes a man boring and dull.
There’s something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
Longing to find some others forsaken by society,
like that sweet girl in Kansas underneath the willow tree.
I’d love to pause a second, but I can’t the path is long.
It is the curse of freedom placed on those who don’t belong.
Maybe there’s no place for us, maybe there never will be.
Maybe that’s why we’re hermits stalking the periphery.
Out in the wild places might be the last spot for a man
who's born to a species that he can never truly understand.
There’ something running in my blood and its taking all my dreams.
There’s something flowing in my veins and I can’t help but scream.
Must go forward, can’t go back to the world I left behind,
that can’t stand an outsider, who won’t give up his pride.
So you wear these thorns with pride, accepting the hand that invites you to dance,
and you spin alongside your reflection, to the music of voids that sing to your tears.
Because you know, this pain looks better on no one else but you,
you know you have always been the perfect mannequin to display it to the world.
In the mirror of your soul, a ballet of shadows and lights is reflected,
where every step is an untold story, a silence that bears your name,
and in this dance, pain becomes a silk dress, a crown of thorns,
which you wear with grace, for only you know how to dress suffering with elegance.
The whistle of time sings a refrain of loss and rediscovery,
and you, wrapped in melancholy, embrace your imperfections as rare artifacts,
because you have learned that beyond the pain lies an inexplicable beauty,
a story written in shades of sadness and light, understood only by you.
Thus you dance with your thorns and tears, blending reality with illusion,
a perfect mannequin transforming suffering into art, into a spectacle of life,
because in every wound and every tear hides a part of you,
a truth you wear with pride, an eternal dance in the mirror of destiny.