Boxed Poems

Concrete Boxed Graves

Concrete Boxed Graves 
Concrete boxed graves. 
Compressed ceilings. 
Surrounded by emptiness. 
Long hall-ways of loneliness. 
Caged in fear, penitentiary dreary. 
Isolated decayed society. 
Mind warped. 
Coldess to slumber. 
Psychologically insane. 
Tormented and left behind. 
Unforgiving endings. 
Abandoned through melancholy. 
Dark and eerie places. 
Confined through punishment. 
Suffocating from sin. 
Arkham Sanitarium. 
Forgotten souls. 
The darkest imprisonment. 
Buried mentally. 
With no place to escape. 
A tormented prison. 
Hidden away and forbidden. 
Fingernails carved into concrete. 
A creepy place to be. 
Concrete boxed in graves.

Locked In, Boxed In

I am locked in
I'm boxed in
full of fear
no one can hear

I want to escape
but I'm frozen in place
if I could fly
I'd soar to the sky

I cry and cry
wishing to die
when I think of you
I feel brand new

Your love makes me stronger
so I will be here no longer
I have no one to tell
without you it's hell

When your not here
I feel with fear
Your heart is the key
to the box that restrains me

I Love Small Boxed Faces

Soupers often engage in emotional ways.
There can be depth in what two might exchange.
When someone leaves our shared Soup domain,
their diminished light is a missed, valued sight.  
Some remarks feel like word-shaped embraces
and time together often leaves valued traces.
Is is not odd, just plain strange, as well as an ache
that Soup relationships are both close and remote?

I have missed your small-boxed faces,
your writes and presence on my pages.

I wonder if other soup pals also ponder 
the restrictions our bonds form under. 

I recall the joys of our hellos and ‘getting to knows’
But ‘byes and why-gone words’ are silent blows.

It must be a new age emotional feeling
      the internet brought into being
            so people everywhere could connect.
                           Dog-gone-it, doesn’t connect
                                     sound inept?

Boxed In

All 
is finite
or infinite
the scientists say

Laying the
trap
that supports
their foray

If either
is neither
is or
something more

Entrapping
our freedom
and handcuffed
— unsure

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)

Boxed In

bottleneck
gridlock
no go
five miles to the rest stops
tense grumbling

vultures are gathering
there are people out of their cars
screaming incoherently
like zombies

inside an in-car video game
avatars turn helplessly
in small jerky circles

Boxed In

When he was born, for a while,
he was placed in a plastic box;
thereafter as an adult
he moved into many a rented and boxy room.

As he matured, he filled his available space
with the accoutrements
of a hastily gathered together life.

He mostly wanted and pined to be -
a cowboy,
a buckeroo on a far roaming horse
for hunting the far flung.

As he gazed from his boxed in mind
upon the blue yonder
he would sing lonesome songs
knowing only the God
of faraway places would hear him
and not tell.

He knew that if were ever to escape
his own boxed-in existence
he could never
go back then to his four cornered homes,
in the cramped and crowded towns,
for that would surely
hurt his wide-open heart.

Ironically, and not so incidentally,
he had long made a living making
boxes in such places.

Perhaps this alone can be said of him:

That his limited life grew larger
as he filled every box with his hopes,
visions and dreams.

Boxed

the chains that are bound
choking on each other's ignorance

fall short of the key

linked in division and plight
unable to stand as one

Boxed Souper

*Image of Aesteticness by Pixabay.

Boxed Souper

"I now wish I had your eyes...it wasn't yours, it never was." By the poet.

Still...
There have been a few too many,
I take into account,
those flatteries, good and plenty,
...that spurt, I do not doubt.

Cause and effect make the river stream flow,
Upward or downward and what beats the path,
Pleasant repertoire or a quid pro quo.

High profilers entertain muffled wrath,
Fewer chips on the table, losers throw,
All the same kind face my Royal Flushed--bath.

No contrast chancing with a quill,
few dotes, and left comments.
Nominal spew mandated nil,
hail those righteous contents.
...still!

2023 January 07

RZ & HMS.

Boxed Up

boxed up chocolate sweet and sad
ready to be sniffed and pinched, it’s bad
in the lovely shape of a heart, heartless
and ravishing, ruby red incalculable —
ashes do not lust nor hunger
nor does the adjoining sweet-
heart wish to taste another delicious morsel
instead
plops olives into his nightcap
in the early morning hours
of deeply departed reticence

he remembers hugging
his heart pillow
readying himself
for their precious years
as she rolled up his
compression socks

he held her heart
until it stopped

2/12/2022

Boxed In

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it." Vincent Van Gogh


They tell you ‘Think outside the box’
So, ponder well, pull up your socks
Avoid the danger of clichés, 
Don’t overdress with mayonnaise
Explore what lies beyond the rules
Create your own poetic tools 
Delve in each corner of the mind
Where inspiration you will find.
Illumination ~ thump of fist:
That’s it! Eureka! What a twist!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Buzzwords Poetry Contest
Hosted by Kim Rodrigues
         Placed 2nd
© 18th January, 2022

A Boxed-In World

Lots of boxes that separates our thoughts from emotions,
Where more is placed in one than the other making a paradox,
Best with less boxes for a better perspective of life.


Date: 06/12/2019

Caged and Boxed

caged and boxed
smacked into a smallish space
Confined
I am a lion
roaring loudly and clearly
In mindfulness
Praising family
for their non-interest
caged and boxed
Living full me-ness

Boxed Up

TRAPPED IN A PLACE WHERE THERE IS NO WAY OUT TIME STANDS STILL AS EVERYONE MOVES WITHIN ME.

ANGRY LURES ALL AROUND ME TO WHERE MY VOICE IS UNHEARD.

THERE IS NO OUTLET TO MY MISERY I AM SUFFOCATING ON THE INSIDE.

THE END OF THE TUNNEL DOESN'T SEEM TO BE ANYWHERE CLOSE.

I CANNOT SCREAM I CANNOT CRY I CANNOT SHOUT I HAVE TO STAY SILENT.

THE  LITTLE GIRL ON THE INSIDE IS HURTING AND HAS RESIDED WITHIN MY SOUL.

THE TRUTH SPITS FIRE UNTO ME IT BURNS ME IT SCOLDED ME.

IT SUPPOSED TO HELP ME TO GROW TO PROSPER AND TO YIELD.

HAVE I ALLOWED MYSELF TO BE CONSUMED BY ALL THE UGLINESS OF THE WORLD.

I HAVE TO COME OUT OF THIS BOX I NEED TO BE SET FREE I NEED TO WALK IN THE LIGHT THAT IS SHINING.

NO PITY HAS COME MY WAY I MUST BE TRUTHFUL WITH MYSELF.

I CANNOT KEEP RUNNING FROM LIFE I CANNOT KEEP RUNNING FROM REALITY.

I MUST STAND IN THE TRUTH THAT IS SURROUNDING ME INSTEAD OF DODGING.

I HAVE TO FACE THINGS THAT IS AROUND ME.

Boxed Bra

Boobs
Bounded
Boxed batting
Bouncing buckets
Bra



3/15/19

Boxed In

Riding the rail cargo
blue sky's virgin eyes
suddenly a ride on the wild side.
Consumed like a passionate love affair
first sneaking around then a box unbarred.
There were several more boxes growing inside
tranquil the rush rolled up on the cool side.
Should I count the length of time?
Should I not forget the first box I tried?
I visited Salem, Newport how cool the breeze.
Marlboro & Winston wasn't for me
another box opened to my foolish feed.
it was Kool for awhile till my mind seemed to freeze.
So many boxes, many more did I breathe.
Next a very slim box, but a journey long
enjoying a mellow, vivacious breeze
in the Virginia mountains high
air so soft admiring a beautiful sky.
After a short while it was time to move on
just like the Old West Maverick was born.
Shoot-in toot-in smoke so thick
general warning the surgeon's threat.
A life of boxes adorned the family tree
It was the 2017 box that finally set me free.
No longer boxed in, living life tobacco free.
      Quit smoking January 2018

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