Long I can Poems
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What can I say
when you present yourself this way,
perfect girl, always coiffed and calm,
put together every day.
What should I do,
for four months I’ve been dating you,
but inside don’t know what’s going on,
what you love or think is true.
Take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and show what you’re hiding me,
take your mask of woman, I tell you,
show me everything you want to be,
take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and I’ll lose this mask of my own.
It’s far time that we be truthful,
from there who knows where we’ll go.
I want to know
the things all going on below,
must be more than a pretty face;
when I ask, where do you go?
I want to see
the whole woman that’s before me,
even men want more than just sex,
show me something I can believe.
Take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and show what you’re hiding me,
take your mask of woman, I tell you,
show me everything you want to be,
take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and I’ll lose this mask of my own.
It’s far time that we be truthful,
from there who knows where we’ll go.
Why be afraid,
we’ll both find out someday.
say what you’ll say,
let the chips fall where they may.
If we’re unfit,
don’t you want to know it?
And if we’re fine,
then let’s not waste any time!
Take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and show what you’re hiding me,
take your mask of woman, I tell you,
show me everything you want to be,
take your mask off woman, I tell you,
and I’ll lose this mask of my own.
It’s far time that we be truthful,
from there who knows where we’ll go.
I am completely detached from that situation. I did not play any role in creating the issue at hand. My focus today is solely on discovering a viable solution.
Why is there such a tendency to place all the blame on artificial intelligence?
In reality, AI empowers us, providing both confidence and clarity as we craft our creative works. When we relied solely on paper currency, we faced the risk of theft, and then credit cards emerged as a safer alternative. Many people continue to voice their concerns, but I fail to see anything inherently wrong with embracing AI in our processes.
I recognize that for some traditional poets, the rapid evolution of technology can feel daunting and overwhelming. Yet, adapting to these changes is essential. I remember when computers first entered the healthcare field to assist in tracking patients' medications. I felt a wave of apprehension at first; however, I can now confidently say that this technology has been a tremendous blessing, making it much easier for me to capture my thoughts and ideas on paper."
(This is a fictional poem)
When a man was mugging me, I tried to run.
He mercilessly cut me down with his gun.
I've walked this Earth since the day I died.
I even attended my funeral and watched as the people cried.
I can do good things to help people but I can do bad things too.
If you are doing evil, I might come after you.
A man violently beat his wife and kids.
I killed that rotten bastard for what he did.
I let him see my spirit and it was too much for him to bear.
He jumped in the lake because he was so scared.
He couldn't come back up because I held him down.
He stayed at the bottom of that lake until he drowned.
Please remember that my spirit is here and it thrives.
If you do good, I will bless your lives.
Walking this Earth alone makes me miserable and I can't even laugh.
Do good for your fellow man or you will suffer my wrath.
You won't find a yard like this anymore. You'd think it would seem smaller now that I'm an adult, but it doesn't. It's still enormous, stretching far beyond the house like a grassy sea. The hills roll like the tide, dotted with patches of melting snow that remind me of cresting waves. All around me, the gardens wake from a wintry slumber.
tiny buds
cling to naked branches--
a robin sings
Time stands still here in Nana's garden; the ghosts of childhood haunt every inch of the yard. There's my brother, climbing the ancient apple tree, throwing crab apples at my sister as she plucks daisies. Even as she dodges apples, she plucks away - asking no one in particular if she's loved or not, leaving a trail of petals in her wake. And there I am in my grass-stained skirt, twirling and twirling, falling dizzily to the ground, oblivious to my sister's shrieks of protest and my brother's triumphant laugh.
I shake my head and the vision clears. Now the garden is empty - still overflowing with trees and shrubs and flowers, but lacking in laughter, mischief, and innocence. Innocence has been replaced by wistfulness.
two robins
glide across the sky--
a door creaks
"Tea's ready, dear."
I glance over my shoulder at Nana. She stands on the back porch wearing her favourite apron and my favourite smile. Like her garden, she hasn't changed. A few more silver strands in her hair, a few more lines around her eyes - but she is still the same woman who took care of us, tending to us just as she tended to her gardens. She smiles at me now, as if she knows that garden has cast a spell over me.
With another glance at the apple tree, I follow Nana inside the house - and I swear I can hear echoes of laughter behind me.
My cousin wants to build me a septic tank and he wants to get right to it.
Even though his heart is in the right place, I can't let him do it.
Ten years ago, my girlfriend really made me mad.
I did something to her that was extremely bad.
I hit her when she dumped me and I hit her too hard.
I broke her neck and I buried her in my back yard.
I told my cousin that I can't afford a septic tank and he said he'll build it for free.
I'll have to keep saying no because if I don't, prison will be what's in store for me.
He can't build a septic tank in my front yard because there isn't enough room.
If he puts one in my back yard, I can kiss my butt goodbye because I'll be doomed.
I told people that my girlfriend moved to another town and they believed what I said.
My cousin wants to build a septic tank but my life will be ruined if I let him go ahead.
I didn't mean to kill my girlfriend but what's done is done.
When it comes to a septic tank, I can't let my cousin build one.
My cousin doesn't want me to keep using the outhouse that 's in my front yard.
But it beats the hell out of being arrested, tried and having to live behind bars.
It started with a smile
A true love a dirty deep love
Panda dunks and bands flying
Clubs and soft skin
Past in the can can you remember
He was so sweet so loving
You wouldnt see it coming
The slow poison
Shes living live laughs jokes with his boys and then
He snapped
The bruise ripened like the fake fruit that sat in the kitchen
He was different that night
It wasnt a fight he swung she cowered face wrung
Hes wrong but heres the thing
Hes a manipulator
He tires her and hides it
She tries to talk but ends with a sorry
He gaslights flicker flick but he never said sorry
She left a few times
The phone dragged her back
Small things
I can change i have changed
She lay in bed
Bang of the door
You whore he says
Stomp stomp stairs cower
See the part of the story you see
In the news
in the paper
Nothing new
Domestic abuse words not new
To the ear
See she should have stayed away
She should have run
She should have hid
She should have done this
She should have done that
But she shouldnt have to
That was the end of her story
Over before it started
20 years he got for the life he took
Hows the reaper balance the skale
With a finger or fowl play
Any way you say she still lays there
In her wooden bed
Yet,
She still cant escape
That phone still rings with his name
She would never be free
Silent rejection is the worst kind of pain that can exist
It is an invisible constant bleeding
The only cure is love
People might say they love you
but do they show it?
Are you capable of feeling it?
When rejection has been so constant
there is a numbness that exudes
a non caring attitude
Lost I am at times in this world, there are parts of me I have never met
Someone once told me if I don't resolve my past , how can I move forward
I am moving, but the past walks right beside me
I am trying to find someone , but where is he ?
How much longer must I wait for him to come to me
It is very painful to be invisible
and even more painful to not be able to express it those
you are invisible too because they will never understand
It is an unknown unexpressed depression of sorts
I have to maintain face, normality through my inner chaos
years of repressed sadness, ignored madness
I think everyone else thinks I see, but I know this is all making me
blind, and I can not find what is really going to make me free
You may think I'm a tough kid,
But what do you except when my own parents hid
Away from me amid
The hussle and bussle of life.
I didn't ask for all of this strife.
That's why I carry a knife.
You may think I'm really mean,
But how do you think I should react to what I've seen?
Some times I wonder if I will live through my teens,
Or what my life will be like next year.
You may think I'm a person who doesn't care,
But I'm not so rare.
There are a lot of children with eyes full of tears
Who feel life has been unfair.
You may think I'm the one to blame,
But I'm here to make my claim.
I have a fantastic brain.
I can contribute so others will have a lot to gain.
Hopefully, others will learn without all my pain.
Because I can tell you no life was meant to be lived in vain.
Form:
Oh, hear this woebegone girls prayer,
words that in silence weep;
to drift among the stones and air
in a place green and deep.
I wander mournful and forlorn,
within a cloak of grief;
yes, am scarred by death's cruel thorn,
that creeps like a dark thief.
I believe- I can let gloom go,
oh, yes I have the strength;
although dark stained with death's woe,
I will journey any length.
On stones engraved are beloved names,
I will write this despair;
that my poetic muse now claims,
on white- then, in a prayer.
I believe- I can cut this thread,
to find my tranquility;
on gossamer wings I leave the dead,
and all vulnerability . . .
but, will I ever be free of their voices . . .
_______________________
July 24, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/I Believe
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1168-465-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Choose Your Own Title, Vol. 7, Songs
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Inspiration, #3- I Believe, Era
First Place
A Comment is a Gift
Here we are and the holidays
approaching!
I can even vaguely hear the
reindeer bells in the air.
A poet friend started all this!
I don't know how she did it, but
indeed, she did.
I have a tiny ceramic tree already
lit sparkling right next to me.
Each comment we that do, can be
a gift.
I mean when they come from our
heart, it gives another poet a lift!
I cannot tell you how happy I am
with one of these!
They make us all happy, both you
and me!
It's an acknowledgement that
another read I or thee!
We live in this electronic age.
Some type fast as planes, some
much slower.
But we are all here at the Poetry
Holiday Ball'
So remember that a human wrote
each poem.
Do comment,if you like the poem.
Do it out of love and compassion.
A touch of love, a dash of humility,
like the very first snowfall.
So heavenly sweet and so silent,
under your feet.
A comment.... blesses all here...
An artistic and most creative
confraternity,
Contributing to humanity!
10/2/2020
4:30pm PST