Long Exert Poems
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—Confession of a man of no use—
The beautiful stories make tears stand in my eyes,
does it mean that I am still alive?
Although there are lots of sad stories that end to be the beautiful ones
surround us, I don’t thrust myself even into a scene of a little episode,
and effort to change it as to a beautiful one but faltering, exert myself
to find some way outs. Is it because I am nothing but a jerk?
Although no one will honor or decorate the death of the warriors
who fought in the jungle to feed hungry ones, or no one will pray
for the souls of kind-hearted people who renounced the worldly honor,
and step deeper and deeper into the remote village to become the good friends
for the forsaken ones shall die,
their cries in the air and struggle to win justice may echo
in the jungle incessantly, the worthwhile lives they lived through
will remain as pride to their lost souls, or in the memory of the forgotten ones.
I may be a spiritless jerk because I do not make the careful consideration
of a prudent chess player before being each move I make, but live from
force of habit as a routine in these disgusting days, and as a consequence,
I am not able to distinguish good from evil or to choose good out of evil any more.
Nonetheless, for I still blush with shame of myself
when I hear a beautiful story, as before, I am alive I suppose.
This is for the sleepless nights you spent
thinking 'bout life's ups and downs and in betweens
For the efforts you continuously exert, though unseen
For the hungry stomach you choose to ignore
Just so on our plate you could put more
This is for the silent tears you have cried
For days when no one seems to be on your side
For the words you want to shout but chose to keep in your heart
For trying to keep things together, though it tears you apart
For being soft but yet sturdy and strong
For making me feel, I always belong
For setting aside your youth so I could enjoy mine
For your sweet smile even during the toughest of times
This is for your courage amidst your fears
For choosing joy despite the tears
This is for the battle you've won over the years
This is for you mom. Cheers!
Scared
by Odin Roark
Fear saved the fly
The spider wept
Fear kept men alive
While Napalm paved the way
Fear keeps the 1% insulated
Handlers and mental bodyguards
At their beckon call
The mongrel on Manhattan’s frozen streets
Knows well the virtue of fear
Yet
Never will we see our species
Handle being scared like an animal
Where the lesser evolution will defend
We the sentient superiors will think only offense
How beautiful
How heart wrenching0
The defense elephants
Rhinos
Big cats
Exert to protect only that
Which is their province
Their instinctual responsibility
Wanting not to harm the perp
But only to ward off the aggression
Escape to safer surroundings.
Why does man feel he must instigate aggression
To justify his superiority?
Why do we continue our behavior
Moving science
Technology
Mind set
Ever closer to android resolve?
Might we be so complacently satisfied
We ignore the advances of AI?
Are we really so consumed with the media clap trap
We’re becoming more and more ignorant of information
Vet proof stats that tell us
Wake up
And yet
To sit in a quiet attic
Observe the simple
Yet perfectly designed survival
Instinct of the spider
Is to become aware
It’s all about living in harmony
Not acrimony
Wait patient spider
What you need for another day of survival
Is but waiting
Love nature
Or perish
upon one or other posterior cheeks
of ma bony derriere no lie,
the sharp pain of the needle
stoically I bore, while my
thoughts adrift upon cerebral raft
of mental weaknesses de nigh
yule lovely bones epitomized
by refusal to eat -
no hands could pry
jaws of death clutched stranglehold
on life without bing shy,
heavily impinged ability
to function, and fatigued
when aye did try
to exert myself even minimally,
and now wonder why....
An accomplice devilishly game
more dishabille coaxing
than any bon mot
inside Kapellmeister Matthew Scott
possessed upper hand.
lack of will power
to expunge did rot
exhausting cerebral dual
nihilistic paradigm plagued
ever since a tot.
Mindset robbed positive growth
development locked with lost weight
indifference affected gamut of other persons
ambition to terminate tender teen
dominated, wrought asunder
aim toward deadly state
impinged witnessing barely squeaking
thru majority grades rate
to fail paid poor dividends reaped
Absent perseverance found pate
never sought academic support,
hence high school diploma hate
to acknowledge, when
no effort made plus spectral
of near invisibility
did NEVER steal a kiss nor date.
Thus an attempt for companionship
(even if limited to online realm
reasonable rhyme I tried to create
also cathartic, holistic, and therapeutic
courtesy linkedin words
mental anguish I alleviate.
Version 1
A good book, nonfiction, fantasy or textbook
A good exert, from yoga or gyms effort
Sometimes a lack of rest, and being depressed
A good look, a walk along trees near a brook
A good tune, the mind and write will attune
Sometimes out of breath, from a death
A good moon, in the warm month of June
A good movie that carries me in the journey
Sometimes when I’m sad, or even going mad.
A good word, the dictionary day featured
A good site, an invite for research to insight
Version 2
A good book, nonfiction, fantasy or textbook 12
A good exert, from yoga or gyms effort 11
Sometimes a lack of rest, and being depressed 11
A good tune, so my mind and the soul's write attune 12
A good look, a walk along trees near a brook 11
Sometimes out of breath, from family or friends death 12
A good moon, at night in the warm month of June 11
A good movie that carries me in the journey 12
Sometimes when I’m sad, or even going mad. 11
A good word, the dictionary day featured 11
A good site, an invite for research to insight 12
Version 3 playing with another idea.
Form:
There was a time when only weeds survived
My green thumb as I tended soil and seeds
Plants so stunning, my nurturing deprived
Of the sunshine’s love, the sprinkling who feeds
Only mom’s gentleness and grace revived
The lingering of the droughts and the weeds
Bringing grace to the soil with kind showers
Healing my plants so they would bring flowers
Over time, plants I nurtured often sighed
Wishing for a gentling touch, so tender
Their subtle beauty would surely abide
Amazing with buds stirring such splendor
With many years of hopelessness, I tried
Forcing my green thumb into surrender
There would be silent days of drought and dread
Days of raising the lovely flower bed
With all said and done, I had just begun
To know the joy of playing in the dirt
So there beneath the quiet morning sun
I learned to let go, let my heart exert
All the work of my hands with so much fun
Inspiring, the flowers grew a convert
For all my days I would always remain
Expert in flowers, my green thumb did reign
PAINTING a PANORAMA
I turn it's part while painting a panorama.
bathing sinking in beauty and. charisma,
unfolding petals. of flowers with aroma.
While painting a panorama I turn it's part
Dormant desires, dedication, dream to exert,
Blending merging never letting my mind. apart.
While painting. a panorama me it's part to turn.
urging , surging, merging, dissolving:: My. concern,
displaying kaleidoscope bright or. auburn.
Turning it's part while. a panorama to paint,
selfmanifestation in bold scenery, not. faint.
Fantastic artistic touch makes me prominent.
11/21/21
'Become a painting,'
Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
'
.
HERO'S DESTINY
Love is hero's destiny, though a blind faith
But a noble cause,
A dedication without premeditated consideration
Which leads to a pleasant misfortune.
Love is hero's destiny, though a mission impossible,
A proud and brave feat
But a phase of dying by inches
Which makes the casualty born-again afterwards.
Love is hero's destiny, though a life time voyage
But a fatal experience
Which could lead to a fatal catastrophe with injuries
That could claim a life or exert lasting scars
Love is hero's destiny, though a voracious appetite
But a perpetual starvation
And worrisome moods if penniless
Which is an impulse to invite intrigues.
Love is hero's destiny, though a whole time job
And a transportable disturber
Which create a never ending suffering,
A death in harness and what not.
Love is hero's destiny, though a phenomenon undefined
But a lost fool's paradise
And also proud sensations like ******
Which enslaves or elope with the mind:
It is a flowing river and there is no way out.
May heavens bless the true lovers with solace and comforts!
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2013.
The professor launches one of his speeches
He is talking of graphs and predictive's
He is talking of probabilities and outcomes
Abu raises his hand, Yes tell us what you think
He is prompted by the short jovial professor
What about the Y intercept says Abu
Puzzled.. are you talking about an out-lier
Then the professor moves to the light switch
Then tap.. on and off.. its a light bulb moment
The Y intercept is the hand that made it all
Choosing to manifest and exert influence
Why do you do that the professor queries
They then launch a philosophical discourse
Till the end of the lecture satisfied
They are filled now partaking knowledge
I recognize your vivacious gaze
A saffron blaze as speckled as the sun
And how you framed your lips
I despise having to say goodbye
Thus, our ethereal realm is descrying.
caused by the sham of wholeness
A nebula sparked a throb in my heart
Innocence is lost at an early age
until the moon swallows it all, I wage.
I was jolted awake when we spoke
Until her love-worn heart broke
At first light, a human spirit awoke.
Now I will tell the terrible truth
Nor exert effort, as this is really smooth
Our hapless path had been specified
It was the source of a haphazard journey.
I frequently sit and ponder
Yet I love to rhyme, – particularly to wander
On what oceans do you set sail?
However, the sun never dries the dew
on a dreary shore where no air blew
Breeze sighed amber codgers too
Whatever was lost is now null and void.
Written: February 08, 2023
Brian Strand Contest No 1183 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand