Writing poetry is never easy.
Starting has always been hard.
Ideas rarely flow smoothly
Distractions leave the paper marred.
Thoughts confuse the writing
And never let me think.
Contradictions result from this
And drive me to the brink.
Meter and tone must be perfectly right
And rhyme must be even better.
“Proper Form” should be used,
On down to every letter.
The most difficult part of all
As some may quickly see,
Comes when trying to finish.
It is to end my poetry.
Sometimes we stare
Into the eyes
Of oncoming cars
Merely for the thrill of it,
To pretend as they do in stories
That the good hero darts away
Just in time,
While the evil villain is crushed
Beneath the vehicle, blood on his lips.
We wait
Until the last possible moment
Pulling back
To understand
Which role we play.
Everyone can be a critic.
Few can take criticism.
I’ve seen the results of youthful play
The paths half-buried of sandy ethics
The holes and pitfalls of reliance
Mounds of dirt clods and chocolate chips
Success tastes so fine –
Like a drink of ice cold water
On the last lap of decision
‘Cause we are all infinite genius
We know what we know –
Because we intended to be ominous
We have all the answers –
For our same redundant questions
So don’t point your finger at me
Waiting for a solution
To your petty-proud, little-lot life
My knowledge will pierce your pupils
Blister your lips
Bruise your belly
Crush your pride
I am a steel-toed construction boot
You are an insect
Don’t play checkers on my chess board
It’s a risk taken with a master madman
With a proven method of interpreting your ideas
Full intentions of beating you
At your own game
In your own home
Give me a reason to frown upside down.
Powerful is the art of school
To enlighten the spirits of the nation
To move burdens a cross the valleys, plains, mountains...
A school is a concrete atom of change
That flourish from time to time to challenge
The atrocities of the nation.
In the mere blink of a nightmare, I found myself rechained
and trapped where my peace of mind had once before
collapsed.
The die has been cast, an old challenge from the past, one
I thought long ago smashed, has incited another battle and
painfully thrashed my peace of mind like collateral damage
to aloofly leave behind.
It’s twenty-seven years later, and I’m altogether strength-wise
lesser for this matter. I’ve got mighty prayers but the sum-total
of tassels for the best in life have battered and frayed my energy.
It is retired and at rest, not lying in wait for another day or test.
Now, I’ve no choice but to fake it, declare it is just hiding and
there’s no abiding such when it's time for fighting.
I know I screamed denial, felt a heavy weight disintegrate all
to black. I remember holding him, sharing a crying jag while
watching my peace of mind pack.
My very heart, my special needs son, now full grown and still
at home, woke me in the night in a state of fright, “Mama, I
think I just had a seizure.” The next day came four more and
my peace of mind took its suitcase out the door.
Its might can contain you
But only for the moment that you care
They will challenge you
But only for how long they can stare
They will see if you will cross the line
That they have drawn in the sand
But if their claims have no moral value
The wind will erase the reason for their demand
P-osted
O-fficial
E-ntries
T-o
R-aise
Y-our
C-ompetition's
O-utcome
N-icely
T- hrill
E-very
S-ponsor
T-oday
Monocrostic
My entry in a poem challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
I chose: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964”
words of love
I’m the harshest critic,
the truest of nonbelievers,
when words of love are used.
Soapy words will not deliver
so please stop trying to be smooth.
Don’t compare me to a summer’s day!
I know that’s from some Broadway play.
Waste not flattery’s rose
praise not my grace,
at least not to my face,
you’re better off praising my clothes.
Forgo sweetness, promise nothing
then you may be onto something
say it, straight up, I won’t faint
trust me, sir, I am no saint.
.
.
A song for this:
Words of love by the Beatles
.
Maddy’ Music challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964
.
Poem challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964
I fall short Lord..Help me in this challenge of faith.! Help
Me to trust you more..I am decieved by my own eyes and
Human knowledge..Help me in Jesus name.)
You cannot be all things to all people
No matter how you try.
It takes time to understand this,
I am beginning to wonder why,
I took so long to realise this
Do I still need to try?
I'll always offer a listening ear,
With sympathy and wisdom
But
Sometimes listening to others
Becomes too much
And the listener needs a crutch to lean on
Or a listening ear
And this becomes an endless circle
Without a solution, I fear.
‘Tis NOT MY challenge to PROPERLY eat
I have mad cravings for BEETS, not for sweets ~
When I TRY to refrain
Something rattles my brain ~
Once addled, I trade chocolate for WHEAT
A man is to be pitied when he lacks courage, when the challenge of freedom frightens him,
When he chooses to remain on the soft pillows of security, like a prisoner of his own comfort,
Watching life through the windows of others, without daring to step onto the ground of truth,
Forever a spectator of time, a traveler who never set out in search of his own destiny.
Life has bypassed him, like a river that flows endlessly past the shores of a petrified soul,
He has watched from a safe place, fearful of seeking brighter horizons,
He has waited for tomorrow to come, but tomorrow is a mirage, a chimera that never appears,
What has he done but sit and wait, in a silence that swallows unfulfilled dreams?
A man is to be pitied when he lets himself be stopped by fears that grow like shadows at dusk,
When he does not dare to spread his wings, to fly beyond the limits of the ordinary in which he hides,
When he does not see that true life is to embrace the unknown, to dance with the winds of change,
And not to settle for the illusion of a tomorrow that does not belong to you, but to live the present as a precious gift.
I remember when the world felt free
When i was challenged by all that I could see
But the days are less than more
Which means I have fewer to adore
And now I must be the best I can be
Path of life : Uneven not smooth
Life won't show me the special ruth.
I am bound to admit this truth,
accepting life as a challenge.
Ups -Downs to persist on my way.
Me normal, heart beats not to sway
neither in rapture nor in dismay.
I'm stepping forward on each change.
Not honoured by my sacrifice.
Defeated by other's malice .
This happening is never nice :
Yet on journey of life, not strange.
Thunderbolts ! No silver linings !
In dark days no rays glistening !
Feeling helpless ! None listening !
I have confidence to manage.
You say you like to soar,
Love Poetry your balm
and lift: So, if it's a sonnet,
I'm on it! Something longer,
more romantically entwined~
then I'm inclined! Something
light, and amorously funny...then
I'm your honey! Whatever the
writer's part, not word, nor damn
limited alphabet, will keep me from
winning your Heart!
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