Man Poems - Poems about Man

A good man walks through life with quiet strength, carrying himself with dignity while lifting others along the way. He speaks with honesty even when the truth is difficult, and his word can be trusted completely. You can see his character in small moments—how he treats someone who can do nothing for him, the patience...

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On a makeshift lounge in the wilderness he lay. He knew he was dying and sensed this was his final day. Atop of this mountain is where he wanted to be, so he could have one last look at nature's wonderous scenery. The local wolf pack emerged from the brush and surrounded him. He smiled as they all gazed, he...

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Once there was a man who stumbled into a ditch, He fell hard and let out a painful pitch. You see, this hole was terribly deep, He couldn’t climb out—the walls were too steep. So he waited on sun and moon for aid, Till down fell a boy, with a shout, dismayed. They talked awhile and made a plan: “You’ll stand on...

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I walked that road when crisis struck— voices blurred, strangers recoiled, and help summoned cold authority. Then a kind man appeared— heart vast as hope’s horizon— he paused his world to meet mine, ran through traffic, time bending to his kindness. In less than an hour, my turmoil bowed to a gentleness I thought lost. Across the miles, a penny’s cost multiplies—mockery, bullying, endless arguments shaded...

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Man and his dog He awoke under the bed, and it had been his birthday drinking champagne, eating Danish pastry, and smoking Havana cigars He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out a beer, which he thirstily drank while wondering why Everything was so quiet The maid had been in when he slept, and everything was in order When...

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There lacks no fear in death, ?No pain in the grave. ?The pen is mightier than the sword, ?I just killed a man. ? ?There lacks no pain in the heart, ?There lacks no tears in the eyes, ?But the pen is mightier than the sword, ?I just killed a man. ? ?The pen bleeds ink, a river of regret, ?As I sign my name to...

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Do insects kneel at the mire of a stronger foe? Do pages turn themselves in fear of the readers will? Do the stars flicker in panic from the watcher? Does time relieve itself at thought of the forgotten? Why then should a man created with the same flesh, blood & strength of the savior bow to such...

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Trapped in layers of sin, ambiguity, and shame. The man walks the loud, but still, lonely streets of the city, searching for something that he does not know. The discarded man. A man standing in the wilderness, screaming out shrieks of pain that are lost in translation. The man fears he is alone. The man...

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If she was the one who unbuttoned her blouse first, who closed the door, who whispered “Come on, don’t be shy,” and still—he said no. If she was the one who laid herself bare, threw herself at him like a dare in a quiet room—was he man enough to say he didn’t want it? To...

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Love, he says, sounds like a door closing softly in a room he built for your name— that deliberate click of the latch catching on possibility, the way silence expands after the last word has been spoken. Watch him afterward: how he becomes a man translating himself into a language he's never learned, his phone glowing at 3 AM with your name typed, erased into the void...

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Dancing in my room as the daylight fades my silhouette turns pirouettes on the window shade how much love does it take to break the spell and shake this gloom I know too well rainy days I've had my share the outlook it's not always fair searching for a way reaching out for you 'til you return and make the sun shine...

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Getting up after the fall, Standing again and accepting the call. Giving it the proverbial 'college try' Burning the midnight oil and remembering his 'why'… Standing in the batter's box again after strike three Readying himself for another at-bat, standing in the box confidently… Picking himself up off the canvas after the big left hook Shaking the cobwebs and learning from the...

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A covert narcissist dressed in a hand-me-down victim cloak, Master of the tear-tantrum tactic — He sniffles, sobs, and simpers until your defenses drop, Then slides a betrayal in your back so smooth you almost thank him. A codependent parasite latched to his mother’s emotional tit like a tick, Bound by an enmeshed dynamic so tight you'd think she birthed...

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THIS ALL BEGAN 1994 MY FOUR TEAR OLD DAUGHTER HAD SLEEPS OVERS WITH CIRO GARGANO STEP DAUGHTERS EVERYTHING SEEMED FINE ONLY I WAS NOT AWARE OF THE STRIP CLUB MY ABUSIVE EX ATTENDING FREQUENTLY WITH PETER GARGANO THE OWNER OF THE CLUBS HE ALSO HAD ONE IN TAMPA I HAD MY OWN CLEANING SERVICE LIFE...

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(A country song to my hubby…read this with a Loretta Lynn voice) Verse one: Well, my man is the kind who likes to unwind with a BudLight and western shows. He watches them over and over and over till I think my head’ll explode! A ballcap is all that he will wear on his head, except when it rains...

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