Put me back
Inside the box.
I've seen too much;
I loathe your touch.
You children with
Your callous hands
Who play with me,
A plastic man.
I do not breathe;
I never have.
I cannot cry.
I'll never die.
Indecision
Keeps me still -
It's for the best,
They say...
I've laughed before
But can't say why,
So set me on
A shelf up high,
Far above young,
eager hands,
Where all can see
This plastic man.
Just A short Ditty or Missive to honour the Good fathers Like mine
Who loved and cared for their children with loving kindness and care.
Who not only provided meals but the food of Good morals and lovely examples;
Who practiced plenty of patience and understanding.
Those were God sent Fathers.
She is the quiet dawn,
lifting shadows from the earth,
her hands, a cradle of warmth,
her voice, a shelter of song.
She is the river’s flow,
carving paths through stone,
teaching patience in silence,
guiding the lost back home.
She is the steadfast flame,
burning through the storm,
her light a beacon of hope,
her love a sacred form.
She is the unseen star,
shining through the mist,
The Chosen Warrior,
whose care none can resist.
She is the homemaker, the food-bearing goddess,
Yet through all the praise, she remains modest.
Mothers are everywhere, across the world,
in golden halls, in humble soil,
strong women united as one,
through misfortune, they still find joy.
Every living soul should honor them—
uncle, aunt, child,
and especially men.
Though we may falter, forget to be grateful,
A mother’s love remains faithful.
A mother figure is more than a friend, she’s there by your side to the very end.
* *
A mother figure never lets you down
Nor ever creases your brow with a frown
She'll declare she is proud of all that's you
Boosts your ego when you are down and blue.
A precious angel who gladly appears
Whenever one is sad and close to tears
Though she too may have problems of her own
To you she would never let it be known.
Caring, willing, ready to do her best
To break through and put your sorrow to rest
With ability to bestow sunshine
Lifting up one's mood to become sublime.
I've many mother figures, each one dear
Sisters, friends, ever faithful, ever near
I sing them praises to the Lord above
Thanking him for His precious gifts of love.
* * *
A mother's figure from my dreams,
shining bright through the sun beams.
You come like an angel so very sweet,
as many butterflies come to greet.
A world is now filled with love,
together can we both fly like a dove?
There isn’t room
in life
for redundancy
Media-produced wars
won’t let good defeat evil
Media coverage of arrests
never lets the fuzz do their jobs
Media-coverage of politicians
portrays the decent ones as snobs
We go to great lengths to protect the First Amendment
but its implementation doesn't protect us
First I draw the head
then a line
Next two arms
and some legs
Five fingers on each side
A smile
and eyes
Sometimes I add hair
or a nose
I draw them over
and over
Each different
Each unique
Some are really awful
and some are okay
Most are bland
but every once in a while
one becomes a masterpiece
A hooded black robe to the ground
Standing looking without a sound
Whose turn is it in their final fall
Waiting potently for their last call
Do you see the signs in the sky written
Or a scripture that was at home driven
I walk towards the setting sun
And can’t fail to see a world undone
Do I slip wanting truth known
Or does it matter I hear you groan
Wake up the world before it’s late
Remember the hooded figure waits.
© Paul Warren Poetry
you're attentive and say the right things
when you're good, you're very good
i wish i knew what needs to be said
what to say to set you ablaze
in order for you to light my fire
i don't want to tell you what i like
or worse tell you what i need
truth be be told, i'm not really sure and
i refuse to be responsible for putting words to it
in fact i want you to make the effort
to figure out what will please me
is that too much to ask?
i am reaching for the stars?
please make the effort to figure it out
it's in your best interest, that's no doubt
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Finger on the trigger
Death toll getting bigger
Desperate action required with vigor
What’s happening in our world….Go figure!
A beautiful time to sit with 'self.'
In this salient silence, you'll soon find your help
Alone, close, and unbothered
Quiet, away, and untethered
Silence the noise of your mind
Then welcome peace that's divine
When pain comes, it's okay to unwrap a cry
But don't dwell on it; just let it fly
When the ugly face of disappointment appears
Find solace, reflect, and then start again with no fears
When the clouds get dark and stout
It's okay to contemplate and sit it out
But when your lips crinkle and you start to pout
By all means, go figure it out
Bent reed in the wind,
Or a shadow to its form,
Duty's silent pull.
©bfa030225
Last of the figuratives the PRB
with great detail,colour&clarity
to the pre-Raphael' they did flee
classical quattrocento became their 'usp'
The Figure
The day ends
in a long drawn out sigh
as if done with the heat,
folding into the evening
to soothe where sunburn
has peeled back life
to a hurt.
The dry earth waits
for a few drops
of dew to fall
from trees.
Flying overhead
the dark silhouettes
of fruit bats
give a menace
to the skies,
they seem like angels
fleeing from hell.
This is the time
he emerges
from the shadows,
his course close to walls
as if trying to avoid
open ground.
Some have almost caught
a glimpse of his face
when rounding a corner,
head down, intent
to look away
and avoid a stare.
He appears featureless.
And yet all know him,
his shape filling
a familiar space
reserved for fear.
If you call out
he will never
answer but just
retreat further
into the night, deeper
into your mind.
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