Long Introspectionme Poems
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I am a humble person, living right and feeling fine,
never unkind, always sweet;
and I flash this terrific smile
at all the friendly people I occasionally meet...
That doesn't mean I am weak and not really tough,
and I dare anyone to throw anything at me; I will not curse
or blast my unjustified arrogance, because
irrationality won't stir me to useless anger;
and after all the words have been unjustly spoken:
the false accusations lose density in guilt alone,
so that they may realize their vain acts of foolishness:
not to have considered compassion instead...
If all my ways are fair and no fault is found in me,
why do they resent the sincere kindness in every line?
Won't my deeds of virtuous honesty, make me endlessly shine?
Deeper than any sea is my thoughtfulness and audacity...
Throw anything at me, but don't expect me to easily back off and vanish,
or be afraid of the ones who eradicate the inborn seeds;
like gentle flowers are my inner emotions and no weeds
ever grow amid them: to hide, from wondrous eyes , another beautiful wish...
Throw anything at me, and be assured you will not succeed
in defeating my purpose with your envy and greed...
Who would build a bridge across a turbulent river, blackened by sordid sand,
where winds buster and storms can wash it away from its unstable river bed?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The Amber Liquid
A clear bottle
Half full some might say
Half empty is more realistic
The amber drink inside helped me
Made of fermented grains and water
It sits there tempting me
Knowing that it is wrong for me to trust it
But it has helped me as it has others
Helped me survive so many nights
Tortured thoughts that filled my mind
Dreams that ripped reality apart at the seams
It forces me to forget the lies and broken promises
The ones told by supposed friends
But no matter how much it helps while the sun is down
It does not change the truth
The pain is still there
The lies are still there
They return as the light of day is revealed
But the bottle still sits there tempting me
And at night
A couple drinks and the truth or reality dies
At least until morning
Somewhere, when the butterflies dream
In the morning sunshine:
I rub my freshly woken eyes
And smile my heart away;
I want to be the wings of time
I want to be the waves of love
Sing the happiness song today...
Somewhere, when the roads are young
And the flings with nature had just begun:
I wonder if I needed faith
Lose the modesty in my gait,
Because I traded off so wild
Lust for freedom and love so mild;
I’ve found a hand, not visibly clear
That touched my soul, believed to bear:
The sorrows that had been hidden beneath me..
But since i am the one I am
There is no one who think they can,
Because the roads do so beguile
My rowdy soul into the wild:
It is a path that shelters light
And gives the air, its morning flight;
I walk alone to find my grace
I walk alone to see my light
And Tomorrow I may not be…
So…
I want to be the wings of time
I want to be the waves of love
Its me and me and me only
The hand had been a mere felony...
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"this poem is not about what is written,
but what is not written. . . "
Firmly rooted, I stand in this desert of nothingness
Facing your wrath and warmth with equal willingness
Life around me moves ahead, passes me by
Scorpions, birds and occasionally a butterfly
You gave me all the power to bear fruit, nurture and shade
Yet my entire life passes standing stoically in one place
The wind nudges me, taunts me as it blows
I still stand there unmoved, head shamefully bowed
The leaves that greened with me too flew away
Eloped with the breeze in autumn, left me betrayed
The fruits that I had worked hard to bear
The flowers that graced my wavy hair
With time, these too were snatched away from me,
No reason why I still stand barren and empty.
My bark reverberates with the melancholy of my soul
Waiting for lightning to wield its shining sword.
Afroze Ali
Contest name: 'The unwritten'
5th July 2011
From happiness to sorrow
from frustrated to pleased
another new tomorrow
and another emotion teased
Cheerful, loving, passionate
despairing, desperate, used
First I'm feeling confident
the next I feel abused
The words cannot express
the dilemma deep inside
and I cannot confess
although God knows I've tried
the feelings that keep taunting
through day and in my sleep
a feeling more like haunting
harried, scared and deep
Depression is the monster
that chains me in the dark
and makes me feel inferior
and silences the lark
Expression is the key
to releasing these dark chains
but I just don't seem to see
the light to end these rains
It happened many years ago, an average day at work
when I was employed as nothing more, just a simple clerk
Heaven sent me a lesson, they saw fit that I learn
sent through the smallest of creatures, knowing I would discern
My first instinct was simple, to one all could relate
a desire to crush this cockroach, I could not wait
As I raised my foot, making sure my aim was set
knowing that he'd be finished, with nothing to regret
I was overpowered by a thought, a simple thought to consider
why should this ugly creature, cause me to be bitter?
With great plan and purpose, was this cockroach surely made
but where was born this eagerness to kill, or for me to be afraid?
With great difficulty going against my nature, I did then dare
no more justifications were acceptable to me, for I was now aware
Although small and ugly was my limited perception, I could still care
With this cockroach, nothing would stop me, and would I now spare
Lessons throughout life, does our Creator continually teach
empowering us with free choice, and potential growth that we reach
Contemplating our thoughts, and their true meaning that we may find
a change of heart in our actions, and a true desire to be kind
I've lived a lotta lotta years
though I'm still very young.
I seen a lotta lotta life
climbed and slipped the rung.
A lotta lotta little things
have helped me on my way
I also had a lotta lotta
lotta things to say.
Sometimes I feel I gotta lotta
things from loving life.
I know I gotta lotta love
from my kids and my wife.
I gotta lotta things as well
from folk who passed me by.
But mainly gotta lotta fun
by trying not to cry.
So if you've gotta lotta things
that coulda make you sad.
You coulda gotta lotta fun
by trying to be glad.
For if you coulda gotta lotta
happiness as well.
You coulda gotta lotta fun
by learning how to spell!
Ivor G Davies
(Acrostic)
Writers’ block stay away from me!
Run away from me because I can’t stand your kind
In fact I don’t want you anywhere close to me, you
Take away all my creativity, that's all do as you swoop on me and
Every time you descend on me I just want to get
Rid of you ASAP… so you better
Stay away from me before all my screws come loose…
Be good and just go away and leave me alone!
Let me write what I want and just let me be
Okay I’m warning you one more time if you
Come any closer to me I’ll just get rid of you so fast and then I’ll
Kick you so hard to the curb yes I will!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
August 23, 2009
There are scratches on my coffin of life
As I struggle to break free from being buried alive
My fingernails are worn completely down to the wick
And I scream and yell and frantically kick.
But no one responds, for they cannot hear
Because the tormented me is buried deep, deep down inside.
Buried alive.
Sure, they see the beautiful exterior of my coffin
The faithful husband;
The attentive father;
The loyal employee;
The abiding citizen.
While the real me, buried six feet under the faux exterior
Weeps loudly, struggling to be free, bleeding from fingertips and dying a slow, painful death.
The first shovel of earth burying me beneath my own surface
Was heaped upon me by the rigid, formal structure of the mind controlling education system
which we are forced to invest so much time of our youth
The rules, regulations and memorization of facts which do not resemble the truth
Fell upon my exterior as I let the first unheard yells loose.
The next shovel and many thereafter I can only blame myself
As a pregnant girlfriend far too young buried the real me deeper inside.
A career to pay the bills.
More children after that.
Fitting in with the Country Club sect.
Playing the diplomat.
The me who I was meant to be slowly rotting away
Under the weight of all this dirt and nobody visiting the grave.
When I die, many will weep for me, the me they think I be
Not knowing for years I have wept for me, the me only known, by me.
Someone once gave me advice
That same person cared
More than I realized at the time
Now forever a memory
One slowly fading with time
Know that I love you
And miss you everyday
My lifeline to the world.
A constant unwavering presence
Never will I find again
One so honest and open
The truth never hurt
I miss everything that was
What can never be again
Reality in all it's glory
A fading memory of wisdom
Strength and courage unmeasurable
Never truly reaching own potential
Always seeing in others
What not everyone could see
It's taken years for me to realize
Only after you've been gone
Do I see what I should have
That I have more to offer now