Long Cowardly Poems
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A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
We have mentally drained our emotions into the world around us
Causing our own commotions then get mad with what surrounds us.
We lack to feel for those that we see have less.
We slack and oppose for what we think is best.
We tend to take from a pot that is not rightfully ours.
We tread lightly with the truth, but listen to lies for hours.
We get bombarded with the ways of the world, yet we aren’t teaching boys how to treat girls.
We are leading the youth to the worst of ways; we take no responsibility for the paths we’ve paved.
We raise hell when our child is wrong, as we defend them.
We teach them that laws are in place, but there are ways to bend them.
We want our voices to be heard, but what we say is empty.
We are portraying a message that is disturbed--
we are killing ourselves, to put it simply.
We have too little knowledge and exceeding pride.
We feel so comfortable on this roller coaster ride.
We watch the turmoil that is of this world, constantly run its loop.
We don’t take enough time for ourselves to just sit--
and regroup.
We have troubles and pains and we are losing our loved ones.
We don’t see what we can gain if we would just become one.
We have fought off those that have offended us, but we haven’t confronted the evil thoughts that run deep within us.
We have come to some reality that we are just humans.
We don’t see the totality of what all the ‘just’ is ruining.
We cannot become one when we are constantly separating ourselves.
We cannot become whole when we ignore our inner self.
We keep following the trends of things that hold no value.
We sleep cowardly to no end and buy all the dreams that they are selling.
We don’t look in the mirror to see who we really are.
We look at some reflection as if we are too far--
to reach, to teach, to redirect or speak.
We have lost sight of what it is to love.
We don’t feel the connection, so it’s easier to run.
We get off-track; thinking we don’t need anyone.
We have blocked out what it is to have compassion, we take routes for our own personal satisfaction.
We keep thinking this way, we will never be united, but together we will fall.
We just need to become one and together we could have it all.
The ways of the world, seem so wicked
Overbearing thoughts--
self-inflicted.
2/1/2016
Why Do I Write?
I was born in an era when Shakespeare, Shelley and Wordsworth were kings. Reading them was like hearing beautiful music and after all these years…it still is. Then I fell in love with Emily Dickenson and the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam…what wonderful words of wisdom they imparted!
I write because it allows me to express myself…my thoughts, my compassion, my soul… much as my singing has done all my life. Now that that part of my life is waning, I can still be a “diva” in my own eyes! lol
I write, because my heart tells me to in the wee hours of the morning when sleep eludes me. I write because these thoughts and words which are choking me...screaming to be free...must be released.
I write for those who mourn, or who suffer illness, to console them and say I understand. I write for the lonely, for those who have no hope. whose stories tug at my heart. Since I can't hold them close to me, I try through my poems to convince them there is hope and tomorrow will be better.
I write to be heard...to show I am still relevant and have viable thoughts and opinions to share with the world. Experience is still the best teacher. I write to protest injustice wherever I find it. To be silent would be cowardly.
I write humorously about inconsequential, everyday situations, to bring a laugh or two into our lives. I wrote my memoirs for my grandchild, to preserve the past for future generations. I wrote poetry to release grief and sorrow when death came to call, to help me find peace and acceptance.
I write my religious poetry…not to flaunt my religion…but to praise God and thank him for his sacrifice for me and for the peace his presence brings to me.
I also ask his blessings for my friends and loved ones and for the heavy in heart, so that they might find peace and deliverance from the evils of this world.
I do not expect my work to be published…I have no illusions about my talent…I write for everyman, most of whom would shy away from the literary world and consider it elitist in the extreme, but when tragedy befalls them, they take comfort in simple words of encouragement and consolation.
But most of all, I write for the sheer joy of it and because my soul requires it!
Copyright©2008 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
For Frank's "What turns you on" contest
I might seem cold and beyond your
reach
Far from your love
Distant and aloof
Guarded by walls
To strong to shatter
Stubborn and contained
No deeper you may go, no further
can you prevail
A sinister shadow
My mind paints
Of love, and sweet nothings
All irrational, all fake
The wall remains
Permitting no breach
Not even a crack, no rift will it
create
But beyond the darkness
Beyond the unwilling guide
You seem to have lit a spark
Immaculate a warmth, subtle,a fire
Gently you urge, lovingly, towards
the light
That’s breaking these walls
Making me fear, less, love’s sight
With time, I can see
A change in the winds
Stony winters depart
Loving spring, you bring, to help me
live
A warmness, to cherish, as it thaws
all my fears
Frees my inhibitions
Drowns out my every tear
Every other, a trial, so bitter and
unclean
Building hatred and resentment
Bringing heart wrenching sobs and
gut wrenching screams
Your love, however, like silk,
delicately she plays
Adoring, never ceasing, not passive,
nor grave
No fretting, agonizing, deeply
rooted, so chaste
No fear of disappearance,
Like the glamorous crystals of rain.
Each morning, I wake
To feel your love so great,
To mingle and meddle
And hold your embrace
To tease, and love, to forgive and
forget
Of jealously and protectiveness
Of comfort, day and night and all
that’s within.
Tête-à-têtes, aplenty.Sweet
nothings, galore
Imploring and yearning, the
distance to explode
Bashfully timid, those kisses that
burn
Soft whispers, fond gazing, with
butterflies and curling toes
Of sweethearts, darling dearests,
Of endearments, and flowers
A love so ardent, so sanely insane.
Meaningful, not empty, your words
will remain
For love, that you give
Romantic, yes, but not plain
Each moment with you, my love it
shall grow
For seconds and minutes, I calculate
no more
Complete and new, not hollow and
cold
My dearest I shall love you, not
leave you forever more
Steady, firm, not cowardly, this love
was born
Intense, she blossoms, intent, never
flawed
For life, it seems, to have found my
paramour
To live and be with
To marry and grow old
So know this my dearest
My love shall remain
With endless mingling, our souls,
forever infinitely. Beyond all. Shall
prevail
Form:
For a month Laurie mulled and brooded,
even tried to think it wasn’t her fault,
if Stan had just told her the things he did
maybe she wouldn’t have left him at all,
but such thoughts were nothing but a stall.
The fault lay entirely on her end,
she’d failed to even try to comprehend.
But finally she summoned her courage
and went down to his small apartment,
she meant to explains the things she did,
but when he answered and she caught his scent
to his lips her own instantly went,
Stan was surprised, but her lust was strong,
so like most men, he just went along.
It wasn’t until after, lying in bed,
rhat the first tears came to her eyes,
He said nothing, just gently stroke her head,
didn’t have to ask what was on her mind,
After several long minutes she cried:
“I now understand why you were hurting,
But it’s too late, I screwed up everything.”
He tried to hug her close in his arms,
but she struggled, pulled herself away,
said,”I’ve tasted of other men’s charms,
and there is nothing that I can say,
what I’ve done deserves only your hate.
there’s no way to go back to what we were then,
for what I did, I can’t be forgiven.”
Stan struggled and said,”So tonight was just you
trying to give me a pleasant ‘so long?’
I don’t buy that, because if it were true,
you wouldn’t be feeling the pain this strong,
would not want forgiveness for your wrong.
You want to still love me, but don’t know how,
unsure if you’ll love the man I am now.”
The words struck her hard, and she stammered,
he just put a soft hand to her lips.
“There is no need to get so bothered,
I think that there’s a solution to this,
I have an idea and this is it:
If some love remains, come back tomorrow,
we’ll take this by the day, and see how it goes.”
Laurie didn’t think that this plan could work,
but she found herself each night coming back,
she didn’t know how he didn’t feel hurt
at the compassion she had lacked,
but every night they’d end up in the sack.
Before long she’d left her apartment,
in fact she never left Stan’s bed again.
Wasn’t long before they called the lawyers,
said they weren’t needed anymore,
Laurie looked back on what they were
and saw glimpses of what was in store,
taking on the demons they abhorred.
Stan wasn’t the same, that much was true,
but no longer was she a cowardly youth…
Every morning, I steal longing glances at the most spellbinding creature I have ever cast my two eyes upon,
Her skin is pale and lifeless, wearing a peculiar looking amulet draped across her neck,
I cannot help myself to stare, as she engulfs her lunch meat in only a few vicious bites like some sort of evil spawn,
Whenever I cross her path, I feel like a deer in headlights; turning into a nervous wreck.
Her alluring features of dark hazel eyes and fire truck red lips call to me from across the office,
At the call of my name, I scamper towards my desire like a cowardly pup,
My heart begins to pound out of my chest, her pointed ears perk up and I remain cautious,
With music to my ears she exclaims, “You are my date to the Halloween office party tonight,’ I just thought I would give you the heads-up.”
With long black finger nails, she carves her address into the palm of my hand,
I glance down at the blood oozing out of my fresh wounds and she playfully smirks,
With a sloppy lick from her magnificent tongue the wound seals and I am ready to give her a wedding band,
The fiery hot blood I feel thrashing around in my veins every time I touch her, feels like exploding fireworks.
That night, I arrive at the address that may potentially scar my soft tender flesh,
Before I can knock, a clawed hand grips me tight lugging me into the front hall,
I am immediately blindfolded and I hear her deep growl, “My dear, I just need a moment to refresh.”
The room is cool and damp, I scurry to remove the blindfold to become aware of my surroundings above all.
Unfortunately to my defeat, I hear the jingle and sharp pull back of chains restraining me to the stone wall,
The warm breath and droplets of fallen drool on the back of my neck make me shriek,
Not a soul can hear the disgraceful, desperate cries and pleas I begin to call,
Now I know why people say to never date your monster of a co-worker, as she kisses my cheek.
I flail and bash my arms and legs trying to desperately swing and knock her off her feet,
I feel her filthy nails ripping into my chest,
In a soft growl she mentions something about my blood being sweet,
With a deafening howl the horrid situation puts my body to rest.
September 25, 2018
Scary or Spooky poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
6th Place
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
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March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
Beyond what’s said and be done,
Lies the hideous Black Sun,
Whose aim is to run a’ground,
To tear and destroy all around,
Plan in the years passed away,
Silent this Dragon appeared to stay,
But behind this stillness insidious lay,
When all were not bothered, they’d party and play,
This ‘Anti-Christ,’ a unity diabolic,
Worked against his foe that frolic,
Rumors spread but silenced all,
Tis’ Dragon’s besieged the saints that out-said,
What horrors run amidst this land!
The Truth has beld upon this sand,
And when it saw, it’s peril’s woe,
They plotted against their powerful foe,
Cowards! They couldn’t face the West,
Call a meeting, their devilish best,
‘What to do?’ They all did ask,
Endlessly thought! A diabolic task!
One stood up and said ‘I know,’
Send this enemy a cowardly ‘Sore,’
But first they test amongst themself,
Found a cure and hid it shelf,
Behest WHO to withhold so,
To spread this Bioweapon low as low,
After breakout, they cried a’foul,
‘Blame the West!’ this Dragon growled,
That Ignorant WHO, really need ask,
‘Who is WHO?,’ an investigative task!
Must be done, to further protect the West,
From this Dragon and its scum-behest,
All are hostage to this Marxist-Mao,
Rise up O’Hong Kong, do not bow,
Show the world how wrong they are,
About this Dragon and its reach afar,
It must be said, that once this done,
The Dragon stretched its arms a’help,
Confused the Cause and its Spread?
After all, ‘Who can contend against it?’ it said,
But Wisdom sees this trick a’play,
It does not give in all the way,
But I urge cut all the ties,
Till it starves, burns and dries,
Rise up and hold siege this accursed beast,
I implore you O’Saint Michael put a leash,
Hurdle it to the bottom-less pit,
Where in torment and pain its sit,
For what it has done from past be seen,
Only blood shed wherever it’s been,
Crushed its head already be,
Satan lies defeated under ‘Our Lady,’
Don’t be afraid my people of West,
Rise up and confront this Beast that thinks its best,
I assure you that, its tail it will tuck and run,
When it sees your Armies come,
And on that day China will know,
With the west, don’t play tick-tack-toe,
All your intimidation is useless O’Chin,
You will be defeated; this War the West will surely win!
Mao’s China must fall!
Why does the Moon think she is obligated to hide her body from the Earth?
Does she not know her revolving mass entrances our eyeballs to her blueish, gray hue?
Doesn't she know that when she shows her entire body we all marvel at her simplistic natural beauty?
How can she expect us to continually pay attention to her when she purposely fools our light, feeble hearts?
She knows us,
She knows how to turn our emotions into her little play trinkets,
Constantly turning our minds into a pathetic mush forcing us to follow her graceful body around,
Does she think it is okay to show only a section of her texture while leaving the rest of her "confined side" in the bleak darkness?
It should not have to take a spotlight for us people too see what is behind the Moon's impenetrable black cloak,
What do you think we are going to do, exclude you from our existence?
Ignore you?
Did you ever think about how we are side by side with each other every night?
Do you think this is going to ruin our already convoluted broken-down relationship?
No matter who you are or who you portray yourself to be,
We are going to have to by you,
You have become such a big part of us that we could not even survive without your presence,
Are we nothing to you?
We realize, yes, you are all the way up there in the sky looking down at us as if you are on the top of this ghostly cast system, rotating around without stress, surrounded by immense amounts of beauty,
and us "below-class people" are down here in the ghettos of our planet mewling and battling each other in pointless wars,
But that does not means you can undermine us just because your feign personality believes she can,
We have to be able to know you,
How can you believe that this is fair?
You have been given the ability to climb the rocky walls of our true personalities and feeling,
But you have cowardly plugged up all your deep craters with ice and darkness,
We just want to see the other true half of your beauty,
We want to dive deep within those dark abuse marks of your's, scoop out the ice, light up a fire and slowly rebuild you into your original perfectly circular self,
Why can't you understand Moon,
We are trying to help you,
Please,
Reveal yourself to us,
Let us refill those beauty marks of your's,
And prove to us you are more than just a gigantic rock.
-Corey Gordon, 14
Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.