Millionth Poems | Examples

Colonial Hunger

they fight with their bows and arrows
while facing the one standing with a gun
they fight with giants millionth times their size
in terms of wealth, they're richer than old pharaohs

they fight with the monsters lurking towards their land
to claim it as theirs but they weren't even born there
they set the stage and talk about love
while their hunters hunt the indigenous

Released by a Memory

For the millionth time I implored
the memory that I adored,
the only girl for me,
"I'll love you as long as I'm alive,
but, alas, how can I survive,
as you, from me, your love, deprive?
My love is all for thee."

For the first time, it gently spoke,
memory's ghost to a heart that broke,
"Listen close to me.
No one else can from you, deprive.
Your true love is within, alive.
It's time for it to grow and thrive."
And thus, it set me free.

The Poet and the Poem

Oh!
To be loved by the poem,
The stanzas by the universe
Every word a star, 
Period a blue sphere and
Lapse of Eternity.
Deep eyes of Nova
Staring at a mere me
On a sphere of petty weigh
In the silence of chaotic plane
A stare and it all comes to pause
The works of world,
Sun let to dry and
Moon an ashen rock,
Waves of blue expanse, winds and light
All are at halt.
I in a millionth of a million of continuing cosmo, stand still 
For am I even deserving of being the poet of a poem by the universe?
Of forsaking my name at the end with a tilde?
This tranquility of a stare!
Why does it ache? 
Yet so in order
In peace

L M N O P Q R S T

Light larkish lackadaisical lassie lithe and lean
Measured Mesopotamia’s millionth mammoth, not all mean
Nonetheless, noticing the level of lithium in a coffee bean,
Opposing ornery ocelots who are seldom city seen

Providing palatable parables to Patty, platypus who loves to preen
Quarreling with irksome quail-herders who captivated lassie’s queen
Resisting relatives reaching for gardenia’s gruesome globs of green
Stalwart soldiers seriously slicing sluggishness from a computer screen.

Sacrifice?

Another goodbye 
For another hi
Who do I sacrifice 
Between you and I

Sweet second chance
For a millionth time
What do I sacrifice 
Between love and time

A WHISPER IN DEVILS EAR

A WHISPER IN DEVILS EAR

You have missed one, he’s over there
Now’s just the right time to approach
And a need for flattery, not reproach
You surely can clearly see his despair

Come on, it’s just another candidate
Sign him up, you have that contract
And even an old nibbed pen, in fact
So, before he leaves, do not hesitate

It must be at least the millionth time
Surely such prompting’s not required
Of course I realise even you get tired
But striking the deal feels so sublime

Your role is to make tempting offers
They will succumb, you know it well
Remember there is still room in Hell
And plenty of gold still in the coffers

Your numbers were down this year
You should know your job by now
We will reach your target somehow
By just a whisper in the Devil’s ear

Hope and Strife

Futile pondering
My companion sublime
Incessant counting
A millionth time 

Of all the 'Why's,
'Should i not's
And 'Why cant I's
Stifling me in knots

The silver lining
I thought i'd find
Still has me searching
Far every cloud behind

Meandering through 
This maze of a life
Hope kindled and anew
With a tinge of bitter strife.

Melancholia

At the time of night that men call 10:30,
I sit in a corner bar by myself,
Watching two tables---
Clusters of life and sound---
A softball team and their wives/girlfriends/lovers
Drinking softly into the evening

A child's face, released from mother's side,
Floats around the tables,
Serene and white in tavern dusk,
Asking a quarter from each adult
Until finally someone gives him one
To make him gone

And for the millionth time
I look into the mirrored tile behind the bar
And see you there beside me

You're looking down---
Digging through your purse---

And the wound that never heals
Opens just a little more---
A quarter's worth---

Old Old Nest

His father is still away, still dying on his feet for my bread,
And I, the mother of a man, must open my arms for the millionth time.
This man at my door must share my children’s bread,
He must bathe with my water and drink it too.

Before I forget to love him, he begs, "I have nowhere."
Then, this man at my door becomes my son again,
He has walked the world and marveled many homes,
And still hasn’t the means for his own.

The old, old nest is falling apart,
And a benevolent God knows not to send the rain.
The paint peels, and the roof raises at a single breath.
There is no room for a man in the womb.

But my first bird’s wings are broken again,
He does not know the blue of the sky nor the proud walk of men.
He drags only, pitiful at my door,
He has not known love, at least not the kind that stays.

This man is my son, his face is tired,
And his knees weak.
He has worked, and his fingers show,
But all men do not reap on the same sun.

This nest is his father’s; In it he will know warmth again,
He will collect the logs,
He will build the fire.
This is my son; this man is my son.

Hopeless Romantic

Loving again 
for the millionth time 
has broken you into
a million pieces,
each
and every time.

Countdown

10…
The countdown begins
9…
I can’t let it end
8…
I’ve got to go stop it
7…
Don’t know if I’ll be there in time
6…
Run, run, run faster!
5…
Sprint like never before!
4…
Catch up to the little girl
3…
Stop her before she keeps going
2…
Reach out to grab her shoulder
1…
My fingers brush her clothes’ fabric
0…
...I couldn't reach her in time
And as I wake up from
The horrible nightmare
I sob into my pillow for
The millionth time
Over not being able
To save my little girl the first time…

Written on March 23, 2021

The Masters of Fictions

Creating avatars in political and law reality,
contracts and controlling stability.
Modus vivendi where the money flows,
oceans of spirit fears in tows.
Irresponsible silence of motions,
honored sheep’s and their devotions.
Munchausen’s syndrome via comic book,
kindly bulling with every look.
Home at causes, churches and cult,
never able to see the own insult.
Insisting on taking over and fixing things,
manipulated moments for the kings.
Being aloof with natures flawless bound,
no key for the self chain can be found.
Pride in the unfathomable meek,
pointing fingers to the seeming weak.
Motivation all about themselves,
to shine in opportunities like sparkling elf’s.
Taking care of this the millionth time,
when the world needs them in that golden frame.
Justified by abusing others because of it,
stories of the leading role in every bit.
In control to the freakish point,
if not involved so bitter anoint.
The masters and puppeteers put them in charge,
then everybody loves a hero at large.

Milligram Or Million

Milligram or million
Kilogram or billion
For the millionth time
Please pay me one thin dime
I do not know math you see
School was no good for me
So all these terms are the same to me.
Milligram or million
Dealer's choice

Walk In the Park

Ruby winds were breezing about,
Graceful ducks were crossing my path
Slowly, slowly in a purposeful walk
Curious of a cute fawn scurrying along;
There I paused, watching robins dance
Twittering and twitting songs of joy
In harmony with people ambling by.

Up there upon the blue garb of eventide
Sun was sketching a spectrum on arc
As evening was donning sienna brown;
In yellow rose-blooms some stilled awed 
Some stayed glued to pink-lotus pond
Gazing beauty of gracile white swans.

When orange-glow invoked amber vibes
I lingered at your gazebo a millionth time
Charmed by echoes of sensuous revelry
In whispers of hints from coral peonies
Lilting in your garden of flaming red lilies
Pulsing your heart’s passionate greetings
As fervor of the night chased our dreams.

Whispering to me, “meet me tomorrow”
You divulged to stars how sweet love was
Crooning its praises quite a long time ago--
Before we met for tea on your porch,
Strolls in the park, rise of purple dawns,
Before you waltzed desires of romance,
Before you owned the beats of my heart.

June 14, 2020
Placed 2nd: N/A Rerun-9- by John Hamilton

Rapture

Silently searching for the reasons why I feel this way
Like searching the heavens for a soul that has gone astray
Eagerly waiting for my prayers to be patiently heard
But there is no answer and I feel like a sheep in the herd.

A constant emotion of not knowing where I belong
Like a set of notes that are barely complied in a song
Perfectly thought, yet nobody has played them along
They summon a feeling, that escapes even the wisest of all.

I lack inspiration and I’m writing as I go along
Not easy to focus when no one's here to study my words
The melody is building and I can’t grasp the theme for this poem
A title is chosen Yet the tension is building in awe

Searching for memories that might spark a glimmer of thought
Yet I’m totally blank
Writing is not easy when your mind is in the millionth place
But I’m still attempting to win this race

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