red F-150
fancy double cab
huge V10 engine
ebony windows
air conditioning
keyless entry
power door locks
heated mirrors
good for hauling
muddying
off roading
traveling
climbing
racing
truck
Plump and odd if it be round, for it being not its true girth,
albeit a perturbed belly is lacking as a mind revels in mirth,
as distant time and nigh rebels cause to fester pains worth.
For time begs the favor of that quill’s revival to regale its destiny,
as written walls forbearing thoughts, courses the spirited a remedy,
paper I have, but envelopes are in want, a late hour, a store's journey.
A store tends only a box of purple envelopes, as its price kills me more,
I relish the idea of the recipient who mirrors my mind on an even score,
ha, as I laugh in the gloom of no measure, stands I, keyless at the door.
An open window saved me—somewhat, as I grasped the desk nearby,
I felt it squished, splurting the unfinished work and my efforts applied,
loss bears its weight in value, I mailed graped purple, a knock replies I.
Truths were told, yet beatings continue
He knows but he won’t intervene
Cries are heard from the floors below
He hears the damage she causes
et he remains hidden behind mahogany doors
Our lips gasped for air, as her grip tightens
Whispered pleas of repentance from what,
we did not know.
Shadows dance behind doors
An entity lingered with hushed sighs.
TV muffled their screams, desensitized him of
there woes.
His porcelain dolls shedding scarlet tears.
Pillows hollowed out there screams of intense pain.
Through the looking glass, they lay blank stares,
and outstretched hands, reaching...but for who?
He did not intervene.
Strained eyes through keyless holes
Stifled sighs as he did nothing but
Eavesdrop
Urgent is the will,
The self is as still as the night;
Apathy controlling;
Urgency calling,
The will remains imprisoned;
And apathy, keyless;
Urgency calling,
Apathy, shedding useless tears;
Fear controlling action:-
Genesis begins all,
Revelation ends it all;
Life dwells in between:-
Apathy is like a cold stone
Nestling in the mud;
Decision, like a swing in the wind;
Action roars like a lion,
And races like a waterfall
Roaring to its destiny;
Cold stones are no match
For angry sledgehammering chaos,
And in sunlight, mud dries and crusts over:-
Life should be woven
In a web of love, netting all
In a beehive of togetherness;
Indeed, there is no apathy
In the lives of hiving bees;
They live in onederful oneness:-
Let us strive to live life
In conscientious, concentric,
Cosmic onement;
Let us strive to live life,
Void of all senses of neglected apathy;
Let’s choose to be as bees, not as the mud:-
oh, the world out there....
I can see***daylight,
a thread* *of light
emerging gradually,
creeping* *indoors;
moonbeam* *piercing
through* * the dark.
a keyless*********keyhole
As we age, we whittle down
The things that we can do
Or the ways that we can do them
So we last the whole day through.
I’ve whittled down my exercise
And how much I can drink.
My energy’s been whittled
And my brain’s begun to shrink.
I’ve whittled my acquaintances,
Though some were not my fault
And my memory’s been whittled
Or locked in a keyless vault.
I’ve whittled down my travels
And my need to shop and buy.
Some hobbies have been whittled,
Which I loved; I don’t know why.
My knife is sharper than my mind
So I won’t be belittling
The ways it goes about its job,
As time goes by, of whittling.
Phones, wireless.
Cooking, fireless.
Cars, keyless.
Food, fatless.
Tires, tubeless.
Youth, jobless.
Leaders, shameless.
Relationships, meaningless.
Attitudes, careless.
Babies, fatherless.
Feelings, heartless.
Children, manner less.
We are speechless.
Government is clueless.
Politicians are worthless,
and I am scared ****less.
Cars today do not come with keys.
You are handed a little elongated remote fob thing.
Silver and black, looks science fiction-ish.
If you are me, you think there is a button somewhere.
If you flick it, the teeth of the key will appear like a switchblade.
But
N
N
N
O
O
O
That does not happen.
It is a keyless car; you have to have the fob to start it
But there is a start button.
It took me several tries and the delivery man jumped in twice.
He explained it, and I jumped back in.
But I did not get it until the second time.
The trick is – you have to put your foot on the brake and keep it there
Until you push the start button and hear it start.
If it has a real soft engine, you do not hear it at all.
I was terrified we had bought a car I could not ever start.
Though I knew the coming storm
House keys I carelessly kept
Look, storm attacks me
Arrived home keyless
Now I'm in trouble
Stupid I am
Oh, stupid.
Drencho POET Loads
We're born keyless.
Then given plastic keys to play with.
We earn our first key of responsibility.
To mobilize-to enter things.
To cage things-to abuse things.
Like a warden with a cluster of keys
letting the good out- keeping the bad ones in
or is it the other way around?
A steady stream of keys.
Like a bird-every key sings
,, especially the skeleton key.
Only a few keys are able to keep your secrets.
Eventually there is a chorus of keys
Most of mine(secrets) are silver or gold
Some are dirty, some are clean.
Only one of them is king
but none of them are green
We often lose them
Then a mad search commences,
Like a red-eyed druggie rooting for a quick fix,
We smile in relief when we find them,
Hugging them as if they were our children.
Keys grow old, become battered and bent
Some wriggle off the ring.
Every year we have fewer keys.
Keys are a lot like friends,
What a relief it must be to be keyless again.
There is no Path
but there is where I have trod.
There is no Path
but there are promises.
There is no Path
despite the signs.
There is no Path
despite the flagstones.
There is no Path
but there is where I have trod.
I may only truly
come to've earned the word
'path' at all
if after walking,
if after blazing,
if after course-correcting,
if after wearing thin the souls,
if after pollinating the soil;
step-by-step;
as a bee,
as a bird,
as the wind...
If I should spin
on heels
and cast a gaze
from whence I came
I may then call that
...a path.
But it is locked in the
keyless prison of representation
and, if it weren't,
it'd only then
be my path
not yours;
and even not mine
for I've walked
and changed
so, no.
Despite some sort of arrival
and having walked-ness
the 'path' seized
in quiet desperation by my mind
must one day be loosed
and seen for
all its never-there-before
'twasn't true-ness.
There is no Path
but there is where I have trod.
Keyless Entry
Lengthy corridors that lead to shrinking doors
surrounded by the closing in of walls
narrowing of purpose seeking escape
Windowless views of endlessness
masquerade as madness
fueling the fire of the madman
Scanning non-existent horizons
for silhouetted ghost ships
adrift on a troubled mind
Keyless, claw marked doors
unsure of what resides
on either side
3/30/2017
submitted to – Doors – Poetry Contest
The inner resources of our being
attacked to it's very inward core
you think this is stealing my identity
devastated looking dead on the floor
No matter much you try to lift
nothing works from your present state
it seems you're locked in keyless state
you don't even feel any purposeless hate
Such lifeless unreality feels so true
but don't give up for there's hope
you've a voice to make your cry
utter a prayer cling to a rope
For God will be your one great deliverer
all your enemies the Lord will surely defeat
no fear will truly eternally overcome you
fear Him alone bowing at His feet
The Lord your God reigns supreme
no matter what we actually feel
this we can say utterly confident
for our eternal security He does seal!
(some thoughts on fear and the devastating effect they can have upon us remembering there's always hope, praise God!)
My heart is in pieces, shattered and bruised
The hardest part of being used
I'm picking up what is left, locking it away
A keyless lock, combination unknown
A fragile heart without a home
Shake the box, foundation undone
A tiny piece given here or there
Not easily done, scared to be broken once more
You expect me to come you
To ask to talk
Like I normally do
Even if I'm not at fault
I still seem to always be the one the wants to talk
But now my heart is a keyless vault
If you want to be friends come talk to me
I doubt you will
But lets wait and see
I wish you would
I truly do
I don't think you could
You choose not to confront
You hide behind glares
Unless it helps you to get what you want
Sub Categories
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.