Best Withholds Poems
When life gives you all you need
And you fly to the highest altitude,
Before you run out oxygen
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When life withholds all you need
And you start to get an attitude,
Before you drown in despair
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you don't live up to your own standards
Give yourself some latitude,
And walk your way out of depression, and
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you're losing your direction
And noise replaces your solitude,
Walk back to the peace and still, and
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you feel you can't get lower
Just remember His beatitudes,
It's the humble that inherits all things, so
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
Let me show you your own death,
Night can fall in many ways,
Every time a friend betrays,
Love has one foot in the grave,
Voices rush to call you knave.
When you can't catch your own breath,
Cold-cocked by traitorous smile,
Lying sweetly all the while,
Whore to all that came before,
Lamb's blood now scrubbed from your door.
Tells you that YOU did the deed,
All the hurts you never knew,
Suddenly burst into view,
Love's sweet light now going pale
'Victim's curses' soul assail.
Withholds that at last are freed,
Silent lies dressed now as truth,
Venom spoken without ruth,
Your love now is shaken cold,
Burden more than heart can hold.
Clothed in naught but righteousness,
All withholds become your sin,
Vengeance poured on world of men,
Moderation disavowed,
Scales of justice truly cowed.
Souls so stained by callousness,
Only God has strength to mend,
Danger there for simple friend,
Branded! Yes, by love's bright flame,
With God's help forget the name.
Brian Johnston
Sept.06, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Sometimes innocents are caught up in satanic whirlwinds that blind them to what friendship really looks like and what is required of a friend. Dear friend still, former friend I still believe to me, I will always pray for your soul. May God open your eyes to who your real friends are! Live well and prosper, but short of a miracle, I will not be by your side! New friends, who are easier to love, it seems are everywhere!
How does my body
This flesh that withholds my soul,,
manage to bear the weight from the chains that have been embedded upon my bequeathing heart?
Where does one hide the pain that is encrusted upon these eyes that are dreary and now fail to sleep?
Why cant my mind acquit, my heart adrift, my skin ache for the touch of another?
Does it have to be me that has to live with this night, because happiness is the other side of this mirror?
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Underneath it all…
No, not clothe-less—not naked…
Skinless…we’re traveling DEEP within…
Imagine your skull cut…split right in the middle,
Opening up to reveal your AMAZING brain,
As the rest of your body unfolds…
The fancy clothes…the hair…the young or old,
Bones exposed…organs revealed…
The pupils of your eyes growing and receding,
As you look upon yourself…
You don’t know him or her yet…
The blood is spilling freely and you welcome the sensation that you are now experiencing
The heart is rapidly THUMPING from the sudden exposure
Your lungs feel the air on top of it,
The air that it works with every day—suddenly, it is foreign to it…
Teeth chattering, it is raining now…
The water is COLD as hell on Mt. Everest
Mt. Everest is bare…snow-less, compared to your cold, exposed body…
And no oxygen is needed to survive…
The reveling waves of your mind are forming all of these feelings…
You stand there,
Without a blink or blemish,
Staring at you…
There is no thought that you cannot decipher in those inner features…
Your brain is projecting a film in the clouds above you,
As your skull and skinless neck turn upwards toward the heavens!
The fat of your present has melted into the ice…
The guts are not needed for this ride…
No glasses needed either,
No jewelry…no tampons…no knives or guns…
Your eyes only glue themselves subconsciously towards the awe-full projection before you…
Now…NOW you are being introduced to yourself!
Your defensive Alzheimer’s disease is giving you a rest…
You are faced with the pictures of your PAST…
The ugliness…the PAIN—
The excruciating TRUTH that your memory withholds from the rest of the world…
Some even know your secrets…
But they can’t feel it the way YOU feel it—they never will…
The happiness…the comfort…the BEAUTY…
You see it all unfold in a movie,
Sound effects reverberating all around you,
The organs twitching—almost, with a mind of their own, embarrassed…
For so long I had given up hope,
Thought I’d roam this earth alone.
But you walked in with such grace and ease,
Can’t picture a day when you would ever leave.
Scared, I was, for quite some time,
For my broken past has shown you why.
Yet here we are, our future withholds,
And as time goes on we’re learning to know,
That love grows deepest as time unfolds.
I have one toe that goes above its job.
The digit developed a way to give
pleasure if merely squeezed on its wee tip.
Like whenever someone plays with my hair,
massages my receptive neck or back,
it’s a prized oh-ew-ah-oh-ahhh affair.
I appreciate it so, but that bratty toe
withholds unless another does the squeeze
and my other thinks I caught an odd disease.
I feel and see your love—
how you tend to the world
that too often withholds return—
how even in your own storms
you reach outward,
checking the pulse of others
even as your own pain
pressures in.
Your resilience is not noise,
not the crash of waves,
but the quiet strength
of a butterfly—
purple softness catching light,
wings still fluttering
even when torn by fierce weather.
You remind me
that care is an art form—
in every animal you nurture,
in every friend you hold
from drifting away.
The poet within you,
the self you feel has dimmed,
is still alive—
strengthening others,
strengthening me.
I may not always say it,
but your presence steadies me—
your efforts do not go unseen.
You are valued—deeply—
today and always.
None of you has died—
you live yet still—
your love carried on every flower,
every heart
you land upon.
—For What Could Not Die—
They say true love outlives the reach of death;
then why make war when we must say goodbye?
If wrath can keep thy shadow warm with breath,
why forge another bond before we die?
Thou lift thine eyes into the vacant blue,
as though some hidden dweller waits for you;
and sleep withdraws when evening seals the night,
as if one absent face withholds the light.
I ask the men who trade in roads and bread;
they name each street, yet cannot name thy trace.
The world wakes on; I hear its iron tread,
yet every road goes empty in thy place.
That primal word—Be—called the dark to flame;
thou mayst unmake my world, not what became.
Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive
War is in session
Right before our eyes
Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions
The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt
Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health
In occurrence to this
Good feelings are killed
The worst gets exposed
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond
The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens
No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.
What kind of sadistic delirium dwells in an
obtuse parent whose child emulates their
behavior in showing it is okay to bully other
children whose only egregious fault is shyness?
Bullied and tormented and teased to tears,
emotional scars that will last for years in
self flagellating inferiority and a sense of
worthlessness a delicate child withholds.
Indigent children may be bullied to the point
of contemplating suicide. Or worse yet become
a bully themselves. To consecrate such actions
of their child, who so berates another, makes the
parent even more responsible than their child.
Principals who mediate are in a quandary of
showing impartiality yet fairness, awakening
every sense to protect the bullied child.
Insightful teachers are becoming more aware
as they try to teach these bullies to have respect.
I've seen that child who cries, but fears to tell.
8-29-19
Eight word challenge 9 Poetry Contest 1. OBTUSE 2.INDIGENT 3.EGREGIOUS 4. DELIRIUM 5.DELICATE 6. CONSECRATE 7.MEDIATE 8. AWAKENING
Eight word challenge 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
The ole diner offers twelve course
conversations salted with unspoken jargon:
one patron withholds the dialect of fed-
up-of-my-job while his buddy barely
nods, too worn-to-the-bone;
a wife texts her friend, i-found-
a-lump-in-my-breast
while her husband swallows , ah-hell-
she’s-having-an-affair.
Hear the internalized vernacular
of hooked-on-painkillers,
the lonely phraseology of my-kids-
never-visit, and the private pang of he-didn’t-
use-a-condom. Misery keeps
its six degrees of vagueness, widens
each tiny rift. It would only take
mindfulness, a willingness to stretch,
but these half-hearted translations
make for such unsound bridges —
take table three, a party of two:
he snaps, get with reality,
which means, Honey-just-listen
while she raises one finger
to her lips, signing, please-just-shut-up-
and-kiss-me.
Cherished by many desperate with no joy
Within the heartbeat of exclamatory rough homeboy
Finds peace too merry and blue sky solitary
Walking on all four and not seen as he tarry
Clothes wet with sweat and thwacked toes overlaid
Feels beaten, tired, sleepy, baked and guilty afraid
None by to elevate him hence
And missing a lot to commence
Only alive for a borrowed time
Regrets poverty a giant crime
Fights the inner frustrations she intends at ease
Marries a toothy refuge and breaks it to meeting this peace
At a waterless shore he withholds the power he sought
In friendless state, pale, unwise, and dug minds wrought
And no more feels seated on or carried like garbage and thrown away
Always find choice in what you love and not be met halfway
Trace brightly your footsteps if you can
But run away from them and accomplish a life span
Sometimes we say things and hope God would do the opposite
Sometimes we say things out of anger
Sometimes we lost it and completely lost our head
But can we push God away?
The answer is no
God is not someone you can dictate
Who would take your order and run when you tell Him to
He is an independent, supreme God
He issues orders and not taking one
He chelates and not renegades
He balks and not chocks
He runs with you and not against you
He withholds for your own good and not ballons you to your own merrification
He believes and not relieves
He commits and not bequeaths
So let it be known
He is not someone you can play with
defeat, or degrade
He is a God of His own
You cannot belittle Him and not suffer consequences
He deserves utmost adoration
If you can't say anything nice, don't say it at all
Or you will have wraths on your head
And what are you gonna do?
So let it be known, respect and perplexed
That's what He wants you to do
Don't cause a scene, would ya?
Since boyhood I did dream
of landscapes with visions so idyllic,
and sitting under a huge pine tree
that the Campanian breeze undulated gently,
they excited me by stirring thoughts so intrinsic...
brighter than gems and stars, and 'till evening came:
the Divine and the Human blended into a harmony
which enhanced the celestial images slowly
and magnificently revealing themselves to me!
Awake the Shakespeare in me,
his intellectual ability
is lava flowing incandescently...
invading slopes with its intense heat and fiery flame
that nobody preventing it from sliding can tame;
it withholds nothing from me and writing
incessantly, I notice all, not letting
images flee memory!
I sought loneliness to contemplate creation
with its awesome sunrises and sunsets:
who could envision Heaven without faith?
I did imagine it by putting in motion a belief which any heart
would accept and be stunned by the moon's colorlessness
as those Cirrus clouds tried to hinder her hazy brilliance,
and it did shine to make me fearless...
and let me explore incredible nights of fascination!
Awake the Shakespeare in me
by gathering an audience before my stage
illuminated by the constant light of the constellations:
will my lines delight faces or cause rage?
Shout and interrupt me, if I fail to entertain you with improvised amazement;
applaud me, if I achieve what I came to do so passionately!
If the captain of a stranded ship challenges fierce oceans,
then I might as well incite profound emotions and lure you into wonderment!
A person's mind is impossible to find
Their life experiences,
their knowledge, their emotions,
are like an ocean of light.
As soon as you reach the shore, you realize there's so much more
You can barely get your feet wet in their shoes
Your eye only withholds a limited view
because the ocean goes on endlessly, far off in the distance
We can only witness so much,
Until we walk past the boundaries of shallow
and sink below.
We can see only ourselves in the water's reflection,
Too naive to see the mind of the other.
We can't drink the water, too much salinity
Can't comprehend the person, for they are infinity