Manageable Poems | Examples

The good, the bad, and the ugly

As the world turns and the days go by
life comes in waves of positive and negative
experiences, but occasionally a tsunami will
knock one senseless and it takes a while
for things to calm down and become manageable
again and I am looking forward to that season

Culling the dead

Your lack of self-control 
is what makes you manageable.

Some words if left unscathed will manage 
to cut to the bone

You tried to mold me in ways
that would turn me to stone.

A solid with no emotion.
that way I'm all ways alone.

Another hopeless possibility
A so called thawing of bones.

A slit wrist who's blood pools into
this riddle of poems

I'm so out, I am a head
That lives outside its box.

I hear voices of strangers
they live under my bed
they wander around lifeless
just culling the dead.

Share Bond That Last

Take care of your loved ones
Bear in mind that all difficulties 
Are just temporary and manageable
The most precious thing is the family
This is where your business will start
This is where feminity and masculinity develop
This is where your health is being monitored
Unite everything because of love and desire
This is where every dispute is being resolved
This is where business develop, share secrets
Of happiness, of recipes, of passions and ease
Value yourself, your choices and your connection.

Time is not the enemy

time is a blob
a slippery amorphic thing
that we trust to be malleable
yet slips through your fingers
when we least expect it

one moment time seems manageable
the next it's rambunctious and chaotic
it's like our two-year old toddler
that mustn't stay unsupervised

still everyone has the same twenty four hours
unless we decide to harness their power
elusive time will be squandered
it's only what we set as priority
that actually gets done


AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025

This dream

Fears. 
Pain. 
Anxiety. 
Sleep. 
What is this dream?
Friends coming and going
The crowd slowly flowing
Laughter drifting down the halls
Friendly waves along with their calls
What is this dream?
This dream is almost tangible
Makes my life seem almost manageable
My cares and worries seemed so horrible
My pain adapting as if malleable
What is this dream?
But now they make me feel so much greater
I am no longer scared of each and every hater
Never again do my fears wander
Never again will my life be driven asunder
What is this dream?
Or…? No… no…
What was that nightmare?
Joy. 
Love. 
Peace. 
Sleep.

Throwback On Love And Life

Music moves your whole being
Today, my day is gray
I lost someone very special
Hearing sad songs is a recollection
To this love one who's dear to me
We once separated due to fragile emotion
We were young then when we're in love
She was young and beautiful and is tempting
A third party cause our separation
We had a daughter out of wedlock
But love is strong she was truth with marriage
I work abroad to forget my past sad love
Loneliness marries me late at 30's
Life was hard but still manageable
I had forget her till our teen age daughter 
Appear to me by coincidence through Facebook
We met to tell me sad story the passing of her mother
There was a scar in my heart still linger her
For she was part of my life once tender and true
But fate is playful sometimes you can't avoid
I am at peace now, praying God to accept her soul
Through music is a healing tool for me
To go on the next chapter of my life
Whatever happens life must go on.

Haughty Hefty Helga

Haughty hefty Helga has healthy hatred
Igniting ignorant Inga’s inebriated idiocy
Justifying jealous Julie’s juvenile judgements
Kindling crafty Kara’s crazy critter-like craftiness
Leaving Lonesome Larry loathing lofty lying Leland
Making Malicious maltreated Mallory manageable
Nasty negativity nonchalantly noticeable in Neverland.

The Person I want to be

Swirling my eyes around and ‘round 
Into a pile of leaves, 
I see my assemblage point swirl, too.
I'm looking back at me in a tornado of thoughts
Assembling the ground around below me, 
My support system slips 
And my conscience falters. 
It looks as if the worlds on fire 
In this pile of autism Nal autumnal artistry. 
The mystical mandala of my mind, 
Snatches up my spirit then takes me for a ride 
Into the higher levels of consciousness 
And some lowers too. I’m dizzy from the delusion. 
Illusions on the exclusion of always being present. 
And wander aimlessly into some dreamy delirium of nothingness. 
I slip into something more comfortable. 
Something more manageable. 
Something, more me.

Inside Out Outside In

("Citadel of Light Merit Badge" - #67, 2016, original oil)

Inside Out Outside In

The world is nothing
If not a continuum of beliefs and practices
Along a spectrum of consciousness
Within an infinite sphere of awareness;
It’s all light
And it’s everywhere
But not in equal measure.
In other words, that light shines differently
In each of us,
And so each of the cultures we create exist
On a continuum
From high to low.
We don’t see what we don’t want
But we see what we compulsively project
Not like it’s a choice
Just a given for the filters we bring
The ones we inherit
The ones we learn.
What differentiates the individual path
And progress of individuals along it?
Refinement, subtlety and internalization.
What starts big, grandiose, overwhelming
Eventually becomes commonplace and manageable
Until it too passes in its own small way.
It’s called growing up and growing old.
The Universe will have us all
Swallowing us whole
Kicking and screaming
Or smiling and laughing
It matters not to that final hole.

(6/21/24)

Xenial: Pet Owners and Their Pets

3.  "God sends pets without wings so no one will suspect they are angels ..."  Unkown

Active behavior creates dynamic energy, fundamentals guarantee, 
healthy incredible jewel keeper 
leisurely manageable nonaggressive obedient pet 
qualities radiate sun-kissing 
teasingly unrivaled vying 
winsome *xenial 
yen zeal

(...now I know my A, B, C's...)

Torpid souls in the heat of winter

Wind whispers through the ears of distant lovers as the sun hides behind ominously positioned clouds 
where their gray cast shadows on quiet hearts 
quiet minds, & quiet eyes alike 

Poor lovers, transfixed by natures embodiment of their undisclosed truths, 
words no more manageable than a peep escaping a ducklings throat 

Eyes shut wide, glued by dependance
Waiting for mama to come, waiting to be fed 

But there is no food here, just gray 
& mama will not come it is just you and i
& the feelings we dare not bare 
Starving ourselves 
waiting for spring to melt the ice away

Economy

I do mind it but it is getting easier to be in economy when my mind tells me I deserve first class.

The careful management of available resources has somewhat dimmed but with manageable.

My life is a season or a sunny day compared to the Earth and as each cell betrays ,gravity beckons.

I see friends and family and they are departing. And their song goes with them but I listen still.

Listening in the night and crickets salute my aloneness. I see my father, hospital gown as his companion, I hand his waiting mouth a lollipop and a smile.

Mommy snores and speaks her own language and I listen anyway.  Kissing her face I know I’ll see her and she mumbles and eyes alert looking at something. Brushing her straggling hair I see the youth and a drink of water goes far for her parched lips.

All is quiet as I wake and the Fourth Watch. God is here and has to tell me importance. I must move constant of the plan. Alert and at the ready for the fugitives of the Watch. I was salvaged from the heap so I must keep a look for those. Willed for the weak and alone I must carry across the line to redemption. Never weary and never falling along the way. Together we will.

Left Brain Right Brain

("Corpus Callosum", 2018, original encaustic)

Left Brain Right Brain

The two halves of our brain
exist like opposites in our world
but as wholes within our heads.
Sometimes it seems the left -
the side of words and logic and manageable things  -
disregards that there is even an other,
a side that is in fact the master
that all perceptions filter through,
a gate keeper ever watching without judgment,
a side that knows
but doesn’t say
speaking instead in gesture, music and image, 
that only hint at the truth,
that takes us down
the rabbit hole
to realms unknown
yet all our own
where sequences build 
and break and form
kaleidoscopic worlds are born
where wind can talk
and Sun does sing
and logic becomes a playful thing
that turns to noodles 
we sell at roadside stands
eat with cop sticks
that dance to marching bands
and feed to snakes
as they hum the rhyme
of ancient mariners 
now lost in time…

(first published in my second book, LITTLE PINE, 2016)

Greenery

after the rain, wildflowers bend like
                         wilted men wrapped in age and bliss
fragments of longing and belonging
in wet that sustains a warming world 
                                     to bring elation with green fields
                                     in a mission of beauty

daisies poke through tall grasses
              picketing the field with star shaped heads
              and yellow centre discs
              that make the world manageable to hold
              gadflies of growth
              with white petals plucked by
                                 wooing hands to know
                                 the alignment of love
                         
greenery with life within
overstuffed
drenched hazy
a tangle of vegetation 
all of it deflecting woe like voices in a chorus
finding one's self in the mix



June 2023

The Umbrella

the wind pops like a ball hitting a wall
boy of 3 years struggles to control his small,
                                            opened umbrella 
a turtle shell shape with turtle head and tail
its black/green lines, a turtle grid of folly

boy laughing beneath a dome of turtle armour
       tosseled by the wind
he holds the handle tightly even though no rain falls
his mother encourages its closure
to anchor meanderings that blow a lad astray

what makes a boy's balance manageable to hold?
achievable wants?
unwilted expectations?

a mother's ponder, will his shell grow with him?
what of the circle shaped by her embrace?

sometimes we don't know which way is up
sometimes we choose an arid shelter
sometimes coverings collapse
                      like many selves folded into one
                      under clouds of one's own making



Poem composed May 1, 2023

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