Short Bystander Poems

BYSTANDER
UNDERSTAND ITS NOT NICE TO BULLY 
LIAR
LIEING IS A SIN
YOUR MEAN...

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I was saddened to witness 
The atrocity of the bystander.
He seemed like such a decent guy....

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Surrounded by clowns
In a circus she's running
Wearing no make-up
You become the misplaced one
Flagged as a mere bystander...

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we see it now
that no node within
will remain a bystander

energy transfer enlivening 
organic forms magically
polishes the mirror...

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Clip a bird's wings at birth
so she may never feel
the deprivation of stolen freedom,
never a sitting bystander to the open
air, her song never leaving the nest 
from her body, trapped 
Eternal...

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If you sneeze and get snot on a bystander
Should you pretend it landed on the planter
Maybe act like it wasn't you
As it landed on their shoe
Carry on engaging in a topic of candor...

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Yellow
Sun beaming hot
Irrational thoughts jar
Short tempers flare into raging
Angry words accompany threatening fists
A cool-down period is needed
Bystander stops the fight
Aware the man's
Yellow...

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Roses are red, 
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet, and perhaps so are you
But you admire another 
And I am stuck a bystander
As you grow closer
Silent
Why can't you see? 
I've given up hope
You might never like me...

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Sitting home alone 
Trapped in thoughts of you.
Resigned to being a bystander.
Awaiting news of how you do.
No matter what lies in store.
Given time and perseverance too.
Everything is possible.  
Regretfully that just ain't true....

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Overnight I have turned
grey, stuck on the threshold
of a song

which does not cry
parting the mist
of the eyes.

Why should not,
the humming bird stop
becoming voiceless?

O bystander,
wakeup the moon
night will fall now glittering....

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my Soul begets My heart

my Heart begets My mind

my Mind begets My consciousness 

my Consciousness begets My awareness

my Awareness begets My being

my Being begets My energy

my Energy infuses My infinity

my Infinity inf ,...,..,.,...

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Overnight I have turned
grey, stuck on the threshold
of a song

which does not cry
parting the mist
of the eyes.

Why should not,
the humming bird stop
becoming voiceless?

O bystander,
wakeup the moon
night will fall now glittering.


SATISH VERMA...

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Dreams have their own peerless value. 
Like oceans enormity, 
This resting shadow can be vast
Diving into its depth 
Lays hidden meaning of unspoken voices in the dark,
Like a bystander you watch its dance beneath unconscious —bursting with meaning but unable to find a soul to decipher it....

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Pacing, searching, panicking;
can't find what I'm missing.
I'm about to lose it.
Been in this rat race
for way too long.
Don't know which way to go.
Spinning in squares, triangles, figure eights,
anything that doesn't makes sense.
Now I'm sick gonna throw up,
no remedy for me.
Just teasers of happiness
that are not for me.
A bystander observer
not allowed to have it for myself....

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It happens again,
Yet another natural upheaval,
Thousands lives dispelled in seconds,
The pertinent question is why does it occur,
Do Gods even exist?
If you exist,
Are you even aware of your conscience ?
Your acts and actions are full of follies.
If you can't assuage then,
What is very purpose of your existence?
You are a mere bystander.
Questions are ample but the answers are none...

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It thrashed away 
Your heavenly hide out
By the fears of the day
Not able to control the scene
Just another bystander
Watching it smash your dream
Tears spilling down
And you can’t help
But always wear a frown
Because you know you lost
And the end is in sight
And your heart is now frost
It has gone away
You heavenly hide out
Because the fears of the day
You’re to blame
Letting it win
So go hide in shame...

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Decades wearing at his trunk
His branches sorrowfully drooping
Standing by and watching
As society is stooping

An overlooked eyewitness
To all that comes to pass
Every kind remark
And every ridiculing sass

Bearing the comings and goings
Adapting to each new scene
Minding his own business
Trying not to intervene

Sitting in tranquility
Counting the hours till his end
An onlooker of destruction
A bystander without a friend...

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I remembered those times:
whether it was rain or shine,
the sounds of isolation and gatherings
of strangers walking by.

There has never been a day I do not wonder:
How I'd end up here in the first place?
How they came to be?
What all of it meant?

The interaction of people:
The laughters, the cries -
Have never struck me deep-
ly inside enough, I suppose.

Maybe I am a narcissist?
Maybe I don't really care?
I do feel a strange numbing -
And that I bear....

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Three men are digging a hole in the ground
Their supervisor is casually standing around
A bystander is not making the slightest sound
No precious pirates’ treasure will soon astound.
Dirt brought up beneath is forming a mound
One says a jackhammer is needed to pound
Hard limestone rock is starting to confound
Six feet down will lie remains of a renowned.

HONORABLE MENTION
Written June 19, 2021
For “This or That, Vol. 4” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh...

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Up-standers ask a bully to please stop.
But not in a bullying voice.
Understand?
Head nod.

Down-standers join the bully.
They call the victim names too
Scared they will be the next target if they do not.
Cowards.

By-standers stand by,
Trying to ignore what is happening, feeling badly later
Wishing they had been an up-stander. 
So what do you want to be?

An Up-Stander, a Down-Stander or a By-Stander?

“I want to be a run-a-way-er,” he said, demonstrating....

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The Arabian flying carpet knocked me off my feet.
I was bent over sideways with a feeling of defeat.
Yelled a bystander, “Is that a flying carpet? It is sweet!”
I took out my giant bag of munchies, great things to eat.

Hey, said my travel mate, foxy fox, are those cupcakes wheat?
I was amazed he noticed in middle of super long tweet.
We rode over through six continents a tour that could not be beat
So, I was thrilled the aggressive carpet had knocked me off my feet....

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Love is a bit of comedy, so be rough with love.

He arranges her one way and then another, 
in itchy dissatisfaction. She surrenders to the role 
like a silent bystander, a plaything in the hands 
of impatience - what does he want? 

“Like this,” he says in a schoolteacher’s voice.

The imbalance of power, the almost impersonal 
manipulations, the momentum toward surrender, 
and then the shocking, primal desire - to meld -
like a gunshot in a canyon long thought empty....

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