Dead, Dead.
Decay, rotten flesh,
Melting beneath the scorching sun.
Worms, maggots, flies-
A parade in time with the vulture's drum.
Teasing, tearing, ripping this way, that way,
Dashing, splashing like an artist painting madness.
Bumblebee, whisper to me:
Am I dead...or just asleep
in the scariest dream?
No...
I can't be dead.
I refuse to be dethroned.
Oh death, you have no sting.
Your wings have been clipped.
A man of all seasons,
I fight every round.
Knocked around...
but rise before I hit the ground.
Yeah, I am not dead.
in
my life,
no more tears,
nor sorrow dwells.
All my pain has fled~
my joy is now complete.
I fear no foe, no problem,
I'm truly a great conqueror.
My lips full of appreciations.
Till eternity, I'll ever give thanks.
Why won't I ever be joyful in God?
All of my needs in life, He provides.
All my heart desires come in full.
Good health, He grants it freely.
Favour lines my pathways.
I walk with great grace,
like flocks of swans.
Grateful still
to God.
Yes.
A bold strong mettle
Do we need to speak the truth;
That we need to know.
One should never be surprised
If he sees ignorance sitting on the throne of success
For it is knowledge's timidity and modesty
That allows incompetence to become so audacious
As to insist authority's crown to possess!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 April 2021
Boldness
Sit on some heads
Fit in some heads
Both some heads
Boldness
Oh listen helots while my words be bold
To gather fire that fills our spirits mold
So brimstone melds the brick and mortar wold
We face death to defend these walls of old
Our wars be borne for mothers wept herein
Our children born free our lives shall spare thee
Be brave bold men for now the fight begins
Lift swords and battle defend til weary
Let not thy spirit fade with wound or fears
Thy faith be sturdy and shields have great zeal
So in the midst of clash ye find no tears
Our proud hearts and true mettle to reveal
Be sure in this moment we proudly stand
Each man's brave heart lift valor to this land
September 7, 2020
So what if I drift today?
Anyway people have nothing to say—
that is, if one doesn’t have this
sense or the boldness
to admit this, too,
whatever others’ deepness,
is itself a part of the stroll
we call experience.
"Blushing is the color of virtue."
You're done.
You melt like a sigh
on the lips of angels.
You've drained
the paleness of injustice,
your own hands tangled up,
aw, the square stare of the truth,
impassable duel of the pupils.
Your hands are filled with the face of our tragedy,
witherering among the sidereal flowers,
a cursed sunset,
a lamp lit in the wee hours,
no truce is better than advancing to the edge of yourself,
throwing yourself into the fire of the stars,
crossing the hard core time;
with flimsy memories
descending into a blessed hell.
You want to die with the lamp lit,
not talk about anything that gives you away
when you smoke compulsively,
tramontane and bold,
you know how pliable is the scroll of fear.
You are bad, Diogenes,
with your airs of moldy poet,
twitching the neurons of those who feel
that Truth is even more pliable,
Come here, my ox, my friend.
Bravery with no constraints
On show of the minds might and power
Irrespective of competition or opposition
Done deals finally achieved and executed
Necessitated by a confrontational desire to
Eclipse any difficulty on passion’s road
Since this is from within, it’ll
Show no signs of fear or defeat
Brazen hussy
Openly sinful
Living free
Drama queen
Needing nothing
Everyone knows
She's strong
Secretly.... shy
Ive found my place in life
Well at least I think I did
Im trying to be bold and courageous
But my confidence yet stays hid
People tell me that Ive changed
But the truth is I think I just found myself..
And truth be told
Im nothing like everyone else
But Ill wake up one day
And become more bold
My confidence will stay strong
And never get old
But Im only 13
And I have more of a life to begin
Yet I stiil stand here
Cause my BOLDNESS is yet within.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.