(Naani).
Rat race compete!
Abstract clocks we beat,
Measured by humanity vanishing.
You're old, Father Time.....
Part 1
I mourn the time when earth was whole:
Before the coastlines sunk so low,
Before wildfires raged out of control,
Before lakes and rivers shrunk without snow,
Before structures cluttered coastal beaches,
Before the air took away our breath,
Before laws of nature suffered breeches
And 'Acts of Man' hastened earth's death.
Part 2
Poisoned water and poisoned crops,
Man's interference never stops.
Soon the land will be laid bare
With contamination everywhere.
Bees die off before the spring;
Their absence leaves a lasting sting.
Nature had a renewable plan
But never considered 'Acts of Man'.
Part 3
The earth is scourged by fire and flooded by rain.
Fire burns year round and consumes every blade,
So floods run free and destroy the terrain,
While smoke and smog, the air degrade.
God put the Garden in mankind's hand,
When life on earth first began,
To be good custodians of the land.
Can earth survive these 'Acts of Man'?
Post email setup’s “gold medal” triumph, face to face on screen,
with sister Jay who sagely warned against overt optimism,
Yet within space of five minutes, we chin wagged without a glitch
Struggling means listening
For what isn't said.
To read a room is to discern
The air shift before the
Words do.
Rooms carry experiences you
Weren't there to witness.
Struggling is detecting truth
Beneath the surface.
To read the room is to trust
Your own pulse first.
Rooms reveal themselves
Gradually-
Especially when you're the
Only one paying attention.
Kindness is creating a space
An absence of self , a welcoming face,
A hand extended to pull someone up
To share their pain , drink their cup,
Kindness is tearing the barriers down
A comforting smile, not judging frown.
An embrace of solidarity
For we are one humanity
What makes us rich is what we share
Our time, our presence , our love, our care.
Success can be won by
Talent and timing, or sheer presumption,
But Righteousness is acquired in the
Unseen range of options
Where no bravos exist.
The world may recognize the
One who rises,
Yet virtue belongs to the one
Who refuses to rise by stepping
On anyone else.
Success proves you reached
The top.
It never proves you deserved the climb
There are hundreds of our people homeless living on our streets,
the exhausted, sad faces of those in defeat
Wrapped in a blanket, just trying to survive as people pass by
Not even knowing that they are alive.
No shoes on their feet, clothes dirty and in rags, they carry their memories in
carrier bags
These were once people who once had a life, a home and a job. Maybe some children and a wife.
They might be veterans who had to fight in some war-torn places
But now, they are shadows without any faces
Sleeping in that blanket on the floor could be a sister or a brother, maybe a forgotten father or even a mother
This is happening now. It’s not from a book. They are in plain sight, but we turn our heads away and we refuse to look
Walking out for a meal or maybe a dance, we don’t give them a second thought or even a glance.
Not all the homeless people want to live a life on the street they want a home and a warm bed to sleep
If you ever see someone who is homeless, don’t turn your head to look the other way. Stop and ask if they are OK.
Sad sons weep as brisk buyers pass
Night's deep darkness falls as poor boys beg bread
Bleak bosoms, sharing sad sobs,
Fierce floods wash through the dense dirt tonight.
Gray gloom hides those cold cries.
Sharp storms wake up grim, great hunger,
Hard hearts mock the pain of lost lives.
Honored to place 2nd in the Alliterisen Poetry Contest sponsored by poet Joseph May.
Note: AI-assisted background art was generated solely to enhance the dark and somber mood of my original poem.
Paths of ogival arches lead my sight
In one tunnel-drive of light
To behold bridges, seven in number,
As they straddle the tenebrous walkway we lumber,
Man and beast, towards expected glorious dawn.
Rock-solid, the bridges stand firm but drawn.
Endearing Parasite
by Frank Daub
Delicious insincerity,
dear friend.
The fear is about an end.
Though in clarity –
regarding lasting –
fasting briefly makes all new –
again.
“Here!” “Come see my plane fly; my train choo choo!!”
“Look at that funny cow mommy, ‘moo, moo’!”
“Faster, daddy, faster!” “Again, yes, wee!!!”
“One more story mommy, p,p,p,please!”
“I’m going out.” - “Where?” Mum asks. - ”Hmmpphhh… Just out!”
“Where’s my shoes? Why isn’t this washed?”, I shout.
“Board games night, really?" "I have friends y’know…”
“My life is over… he dumped me”, I groan.
“Oh, woe is me, my life is half over!”
I expected a house, kids, ring, rover…
the dream job; not dole and redundancy!!!
“I’ve a bunch of cats now living with me!”
“Phew!” “Two moments on the sofa, free from…
them!!” “Yes, the kids rule the roost, all day long!”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Though, I could do with some more time away.”
“A new lease of life!” “Barely past forty!”
The golf, wine, cheese… “Grandkids, go be naughty!”
“What a time it is, hey, to be alive!”
“Old, ha!” “I’ve learnt to just live and let jive!”
09.27.2026
(For the Five Perspectives Contest - each stanza representing different ages: 5, 15, 30, 50, 70.)
The engine roars, the metals gleam,
You race along the high-paved line,
To reach the summit of a dream
And claim the sky as yours and mine—
Or so you thought. The climb is steep,
The pace severe, the cold air thin,
And in the rush, you never keep
A tally of the quiet sin.
You build a tower, tall and bright,
A spire of stone against the blue,
With vaulted arches catching light,
Yet holding no one close to you.
For every friend was pushed aside,
And every hand was let go free,
To trade the warmth of love for pride
And secure a lonely victory.
At last the highway finds its end,
The final peak is brought in view;
No waiting crowd, no quiet friend,
No open arms to welcome you.
The crown is earned, the space is vast,
The wind blows sharp across the seat—
A solitary soul at last
Where no one ever cares to meet.
For status is an empty weight,
And power leaves a hollow sound,
If no warm voice can celebrate
The simple truths that you have found.
The prize was never just the height,
Nor standing on the peak alone,
But walking through the heavy night
With hearts that make the journey home.
Maya carried fire in her
Throat.
And elegance in her traverse
The kind of woman who
Could
Burna truth into the world
And still leave the room
Sensing like grace.
She didn't raise her voice-
She raised her standards,
Made people checked themselves
Before they nudged her name.
Her words walked in heels,
Her presence walked in purpose,
And her silence
Could humble a whole
Assembly
Without breaking a sweat.
Maya taught us
That class isn't softness-
It's Discipline,
It's dignity,
It's knowingwhen to speak
And when to let your legacy
Do the talking.
She lit fires
Without burning bridges,
Told truths
Without losing poise,
And rose
Without stepping on
Anyone
Who wasn't trying to hold
Her down.
And me?
I honor her every time I write
With backbone and polish,
Everytime I let my fire
Show
Without it scorch my class.
This is my ode-
Street rooted,
Fire forged,
Class carried-
To Maya Angelou,
The woman who proved
That rising
Is an art form.
The past carried so much normalcy that it was deemed boring.
I remember the smile that I left with you and the stars that shone only in your eyes.
The present now carries a lift that you thought made things easier.
But you continue to run.
You have run the biggest race of your life, driven by a mind you never chose to have in the first place.
I met a child in the past, and I can remember him by his smile.
The man standing before me is still smiling, but he often wonders what the point of it all is.
Sometimes it feels like I am dealing with two different people.
The man keeps trying to convince me that he isn't that different from the mind I knew.
Oh and I believe him. Not just because he wants me to, but because I know the man he became is one that was born out of the desperation to survive whatever this whole cycle is.
The present gave him steps, noises, and countless clicks that satisfied only an urge.
As he tries to silence the noises and then continues to tell me about his world, which is now new to me,
He will click click click until everything becomes okay again.....
In a time before the Eukaryote cell
Simple cells floated, and all was well
A garden of Eden in blissful flotation
Then innocence lost, onset of predation.
Big Bacteria attacked the small who were closest
Protists engulfed prey with phagocytosis.
Then plants arose, and to eat them, herbivores
Those herbivores got as big as a Brachiosaur.
Dinosaurs became birds by evolution
Hawks and Eagles were nature's solution.
They ate small mammals, natural balance.
No garden of Eden for a squirrel in the talons.
Herbivorous wombats became Marsupial lions.
A wolf marsupial evolved, such weirdness in science:
Looked just like one, evolved in same way
We think that in packs it ran down its prey.
Why can't nature leave its offspring alone?
Why endless fear, a danger zone?
Why must the predator evolve from the prey?
Can't we all get along, before judgement day?
In predation at least, there's no ill will
Some predator is hungry, wants to eat his fill
Intraspecies is where most evil arises
Home Sapiens specifically give us surprises.
Look at the nastiness once out of the garden
Nature should beg us for pardon.
Humanity Categories
Definition | What is Humanity in Poetry?
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.
Related Poetry Forms
compassion, brotherly love, fraternity, fellow feeling, philanthropy, humaneness, kindness, consideration, understanding, sympathy, humankind, mankind, man, people,