"if I had a choice"
if I had a choice of freedom experienced by wondrous experts
gliding with eagles way high within light from heaven or
floating with whales amongst the far and wide in mighty seas
or running with horses along open land facing wind and the world
impossible the choice as they are masters of their own universe
they know not highs and lows of life of human competitiveness
they live beautifully as intended without hesitation or rule
eagles shall fly whales will swim and horses relentlessly race
breathing freedom with wings alive and unchained as butterflies
let it be said without pause all three prevail if I had a choice
souls of peace they forever remain
everlastingly each flawlessly reign
SkyWatcher
07-01-23
After you, I lost
my strength, my cheerfulness
and even my pride.
And I forgot the name of
my friends.
After you, I lost my life's
fragrance, my will to live,
the competitiveness and the drive.
But after you I learned the genius
of tears and the healing cries.
Competitiveness in business
Is a sorry sight to witness
Cheating if the chance allows
Lie, slander put them down
Compare it to a sporting fixture
You can’t cheat with refs around
Upfront honesty that features
In business no rules are found
Clueless Bosses that are weak
Sport would see them sink beneath
Sort by results when you compete
Not top because you power seek
Sucking up creates the chances
Manipulative for advances
It’s how liars take advantage
Business leaves you disenchanted
It’s not about who is best
It’s about who is slyest
That’s how to progress
at the top but no better than the rest
With irascible words, she continues to bemoan
Writing about poets with whom she picks a bone
Chastising those who like to compete in contests
She's infected with hate, like a pustulant abscess
Her bitter sarcasm abounds for quite a few poets
Shaming their competitiveness, then she blows it
She adds POTD beside her poem title when chosen
but her attitude is not what I would call ambrosian
Her "truth" is not what all of us choose to believe
It's so sad that she tries to offend us and aggrieve
She doth protest too much, and it's unbecoming
She's muddying the site with so much chumming
Many of us write what lies deep within our hearts
But we're not what she calls arrogant or up-starts.
We don't need our wrists slapped, like she has said
Leeches try to draw blood. We don't need to be bled.
Moments like this are few and far between
I don’t know exactly what I mean
Sometimes I can just sit here
Wondering and pondering
I stare off into space
Looking into my own little place
Full of dreams, wishes and successes
These things mean a great deal to me
I have meagre possessions
But I am comfortable
As comfortable as one like myself could be
I have a beautiful child
One with a very strong will
Nearly as strong as mine
Competitiveness is in our nature
We were both meant to be Scorpios
A wondrous combination of personalities
This is just a little insight into my life
The interest is in the eye of the beholder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©copyright Juanita Torr
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still just in diapers himself and already his brother’s keeper;
Logan watches lovingly as Lucas naps in sleepers.
Perhaps it’s in his DNA or the symptoms of a first born son,
But Logan has bonded with his little brother more than any one.
He was fascinated with Mommy’s belly, knowing a brother grew within;
His head he laid upon her bump and would carefully listen.
The first day they brought Lucas home he watched his brother cry
And promised in his little head that being a good brother he would try.
Future years will bring competitiveness and perhaps a fight or two,
But Logan always will be the older brother that Lucas can look up to.
It starts when they are very young, sharing toys and hand-me-down clothes;
The bond formed between two closely born sons nobody else can know.
by Joe Flach
For the "Brotherly Love" contest
Written and posted on 5/3/2011
Second chance, I gave that to you
You did not compensate
You sing of penitence
Yet would not cross the bridge of redemption
So scarred through and through
What did not understand
Cannot penetrate
Why am the focus of your vile obsession
The object of your hate
What tear in the fabric of your youth
What cancer no love can heal
Make you so distort the truth
Make you so chameleon in steal
I know you will not answer
It would never come to you in prayer
Your faith is built on faulty labor
Wooing men to convince your heart
Of heaven.
Do they see yet,
Can they understand
The wounds you bind with tears wet
Is caused by your covert hand
What guile upon a gullible stage
What pretensive innocence before my rage
What jealous spitefulness
What pathological competitiveness
What metal twist of soul
I cannot understand
But somewhere in childhood's cavern
I know the demon rest.
Perfectionist's selection
will overwhelm mediocrity
but who is a winner
when someone is the loser?
Contests of creation
creating competitiveness:
surely not survival of the fittest
or even the wittiest
but a reflection of talent
from the perception
of the reader.
Just write right
the form, the norm
so the judge may judge
and cross the t's
perfect like two peas in a pod
with no variation
just correct creation.
Correct peas, if you please
all uniform and green.
How creative, how sublime
but it doesn't rhyme
these peas in a pod,
or a pod of peas
if you please.
Perfectly round there they lie
and it will please us well
from their shell to be shelled,
steamed and eaten
as the end of this creation.
`````````````` "Two Peas In A Pod" contest
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