Long One size fits all Poems
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I can't really say I know how it feels
Cause this is a sensitive shoe
And it's not a one size fits all
But I've at one point worn that shoe
And I can say it wasn't comfortable
It hurt me real bad cause it was tight
I felt like I was caged like an animal
Imprisoned by own fears and insecurities
I felt like I wasn't worthy anymore
A feeling of hopelessness I shared
It was a bitter cup of tea that I can't invite you
For it drained me to the bone
And I lost a lot of hair cause I was thinking
Picking my brain a lot and not finding answers
Just more questions that left me questioning me
I became withdrawn chosing to be in
That even when I was out I'd still be in
Hiding myself inside my body
Fighting a war that you'd only see in my eyes
Cause they'd break at times into tears
I felt I was all alone in this world
Like every other person was just a bystander
And it would hurt seeing others laugh
Cause I felt like they were laughing at me
While I was hurting and nothing seemed to work
It's like the rough patch was going though
Was too deep that I needed repair
But all it could get was patches
That only left some more scars on me
And I could dress up more to hide them
My glow waned, and my smile darkned
I could no longer see my reflection
But deep down I could tell myself
I've been here already and I can get through this
And even though I got through it, it felt like I lost a part of me
But that's why I keep trying to be better
Surrounding myself with positive things
Telling people that whenever I'm not myself
They give me time alone but at the same time check on me
Cause deep down I know that even when I'm alone I don't want to be lonely
The PO£T
Haiku is a form of concrete art
Comes in five by seven by five
One size fits all when measured
In a pink box next to the mushrooms
A poem can live long in the dark
Going off the cliff at ninety mph
In a yellow bus full of carrots
Strange becomes a way of life
Haiku is thinner than string theory
Lives in two thousand year old huts
In history, in a kimono, in flux
Calm waters drink deep thoughts
Wish they could dream of it
Bamboo holds river banks intact
Purple fish circle down through ripples
With nature they become one
Bumps in the water remember
Bamboo trees listen for the lotus call
Lost And Found - Haiku
twig snaps, lost leaf falls
captured, silent streams carry
river paths relax
"Aequum et bonum", Latin for "what is right and just".
Laws are the pillars of civilizations,
They underlie great cultures
And shore up great states and nations.
But laws are only as good as the people who make them,
And they're no good at all if those same people break them.
A law can be too flexible, too one-size-fits-all,
And too strict ones face being redacted.
But if a law's necessary and answers a call,
There's no reason it should not be enacted.
This country was founded, to everyone's relief,
On democratic principles, not Bible-based beliefs.
Through the years, as we know, some laws have been amended,
And others, under fire now, are staunchly being defended.
Why shouldn't two men or two women get married?
Why can't women and men work and earn equal pay?
Why's abortion an issue that has so many men worried?
Shouldn't that be left up to a woman to say?
Why make laws that're bound to be undone
And dismissed or hissed in history?
They should benefit the many, not just the few, or one.
Why that creates such strife's to me a mystery.
For a law I see no justification,
And for that matter, no defense,
That doesn't have as its foundation
Just plain old common sense.
Line of Inquiry:
"Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version"
A child hears the words of an adult
whether from religion or a cult
and takes those teachings of witch or of Ruth
Incorporates them as Ultimate Truth
If fear-based is the method used to teach,
absence of fear will remain out of reach
Deep into the young one's psyche reaches
All that trusted adult to him preaches
If fire and brimstone do their job and scare
Life's goal becomes avoiding evil's snare
Then as he grows, experiences, ages,
those teachings steer him - Volumes are its pages
And as the days of youth slowly subside
what he was told remains ultimate guide
Until one day, contradictions arise
It seems the teachings are not quite his size
He questions concept of "one size fits all"
In rooms inside his mind, he finds a hall
He thinks - "If I go that way, I'll defy
As I'm sure nothing told me was a lie"
But something in his heart and mind and soul
says that maybe there's a Higher Goal
Maybe what is kind and good and dear
overrides - no! ..... tramples all that fear
He turns and takes first step that's his own way
Gently disregarding what they'd say
Sometimes, things wear out.
Creating holes and gaps often complicating the simplest of things.
Sometimes love is a lot like socks.
Some are long, some are short.
Hell some even come up to the height of knees.
Some are bland. Some are colorful.
Baring the fruit of comforting something bare enough to be considered as precious.
Devilish things, socks.
Sometimes they create more problems than they are worth.
Coming apart at the seams,
Getting caught between your toes.
Constantly having to stop and readjust your shoe when no one is looking.
Or flat out just take your shoe off and fix it.
I thought I brought the right size.
Carefully reading the label,
Sometimes that one size fits all is just a lie.
In time all things wear.
Just don't be foolish enough to not enjoy the comfort of the simple things.
This at all isn't comparing you to a pair of socks, no not at all.
If ever I was to become overweight.
You'd be the pair of suspenders that hold my pants up when my belt can't fit anymore
Society – me ****
Society, the straight jacket of “socially” acceptable mores,
condemning all to a “one size fits all living coffin.
Social “mores”, cultural cudgels of “independent thought”,
ballyhooing the wonders of our differences
until Society’s sycophancy rears its head in obsequious disapproval.
Societal “Class Warfare” – High Society gazing at the “Waterfront”,
the homeless wrestling the wharf rats for scraps.
Secular secessionists worshiping the gods of political pontification
while the poor listen to the rumble of empty bellies
the elected intelligentsia nudge each other at the trough.
9/21/2016
submitted to – What Is Society? - poetry contest
I took a deep breath
And reached into the bag of my heart.
Before I exhaled.
I took a step in thought.
This gift I have for you, it's not like I have a receipt for it.
Hoping that you'll like the one size fits all kind of moment.
A gift straight from the heart in the promise of watching your face melt in anticipation.
A moment carefully thought out.
A moment I watched everything I thought would never find me.
Stare back at me and breathe life back into me.
Before I exhaled.
I retraced the step I took in mind and decided to give you the whole bag
Hoping you'd understand how much thought I put into giving you my heart
Without hesitation or pause, mindful that no matter what happens.
My heart will always be safe in your grasp
clutch them …
nourish them …
draw all to your being with
a lover’s hunger
the cosmos bears suns, innumerable
each a rarity of scintillation
unlike any other -
a macrocosm of nascency and
divine chaos
in a measure to rival every
pinch of dust that ever whirled
upon a whisper…
like the ache of fidelity,
each has its own bountiful awe
and who can know what
wonders lay in wait beyond the gleam?
they are not stars
they do not churn with fusion
nor do they bedazzle the heavens,
but they are just as precious -
despite the size or weave or breadth …
so treat them with
deference, regard and quiet consideration
for the big things are the little things
and the biggest of
all the small …
are moments.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, February 2, 2024
For many days, I am yearning with my pastime longing to bargain for a mountain
Even though I am not knowledgeable about that marchant, for a dealer of that, then.
I long , I wish I could meet
A payment payable for the price, never could cease any upcoming, though hitchhike
I have a river of my own.
I would exchange that for the mountain
Who else is there, not knowing that the mountain costs less than the river
A mountain static, a river enchanting undercurrent for evermore, meandering trail
Yet, I will prefer the mountain in lieu of the river
I would buy
As I will be the thug, trying to be an equitable mug end, a moron.
Even Though the river, bought earlier was possible for a deltaic plain
During my childhood days, I had a brief, accountable memory
of the deltaic plane, free from any obesity
Enriched with the fullest swings of Butterflies, innumerable
When I reached my adolescence, the deltaic plane turned a misfit
Not one size fits all as the demand shows. Rather I loved the running undercurrent of the river.
Friends said, “In exchange for that small delta, this big river!
A deed, indeed!”
With full churns, I used to feel sheer Joy! Then!
Then I loved the river, with all my truth.
The river used to answer many questions of mine,
Such as, “Please inform about the weather forecast of this evening,
Will it rain today?”
Regarding that, the river replied, “Today, here it is a hot and humid northern breeze, passing through."
Only there is incessant down pouring rain over a small delta
What a rain it is! Seems like a festive eve!
I am no longer able to return to that delta.
He knew that! Everyone knows that.
No one is able to return to childhood days.
Now I yearn to buy a mountain.
The foothill of the mountain will be about dense forestry
I will travel along the forest, and then
This will all be all hard mountain trail
To the top, up close
The sky, hung, close, the lowly world underneath
An agonizingly ruthless silence, with no one nearby.
My voice will not be heard there, audible to no one.
Facing the world with the happening entity, I shall speak
Everyone is here for boasting, here I am a loner in my perceiving try
Instead of a victory, here, I beseech in mercy.
O my world! I am not sinful
Have mercy on me!
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2024
Tommy fell off his bike and broke his bum
When he set off to find a new one
Big, tall, or one size fits all
A man he met at the mall,
offered a new bum but for a large sum
Tommy looked here, there, and everywhere
Even the stores where they sold underwear
To venders who had his back
But his bum still had a huge crack!
Something was still wrong, how very unfair
His bum was so noisy it brought him shame
It made weird noises and he got the blame
Tooting, hooting, and squeaking
when anyone started speaking
His bum sounded like a video game
When he discovered he had the loudest,
his talent made Tommy the proudest,
A butt trumpeting bold,
better than a pot gold
His sound-system backside, the best!
Sonic blasts when Tommy bent over
He picked a perfect four-leaf clover
A gas that blew him away
well into St. Paddy’s Day
A blast heard from Dublin to Dover