Short Predecessors Poems

   A myriad of steps we will take
     to correct our predecessors’ mistakes...

   So busy will we be
     our own foibles we’ll not see
...

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Recall the rhetoric they promote.
Much like their predecessors, they’ll
struggle to keep us afloat.
In truth, they do not care;
all spouted by rote.
Agree to all
you denote,
for your
vote....

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Listen to poem:

there waiting for me
on the other side
i like to think
of all those
before me
who have passed
and one day
will line up
by the light
with open arms
to welcome me



AP: Honorable Mention 2021

Posted on July 23 2020...

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Every past that perfectly colors letters,
haunting losses beckon the predecessors,
utter names in passion or greeting, makes a
furious girlfriend.

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Written: 01.16.19...

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Gypsy Fog
Written: by Tom Wright
1/8/2008

Stealthy arriving,
Similar to a caravan of Gypsies at eventide,
It left nothing untouched;

After spending a quiet, restful, evening
Just hanging around;

Cockcrow found it confronted
With the same destiny,
As that of its predecessors;
A swift case of Fade!
...

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This place forsaken,
These shadows weighing upon the crust of the earth.
The agonized met by the savior of their predecessors,
Who's decaying kiss lay fresh upon seven blessed arrows. 
The savior calls to the silence, beckoning eternity's arrival, 
life's departure. 
Souls tortured by a savior's stain; 
The savior beckoned the rise of a Saint....

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~ Fall's Frolic ~

Rudderless winds swirl on high
  Orange, yellow, red leaves
twirl as they fall from the sky

Form carefree circles
  before they touch down
on crisp-scented predecessors
  cushioning the ground

The day wanes; a chill is felt
  a bloom, flushed-red
O'er tingling cheeks overspreads

One last heroic leap into
  a leafy pile
Then skip indoors to the fireplace
  to warm up for a while...

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LIFE RUN

I run, till my legs
Beg me to stop
I run, till my battered knees
And tired elbow begin to cry
I run, not for practicing marathon
Not for titles
Its life run, I run
Millions of miles already covered
Still haven’t breasted my tape
Still out of my vision
I run overtaking others
Blindly following my predecessors
I do not know where will I stop
Where the tape is tied
Where is my goal?
Where is my route?...

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I am just a pustule on the face of planet Earth,
wasting air and taking space since the sad day of my birth.

All my predecessors have by their own hands died,
insanity and hopelessness drew them to suicide.

Now my daughter wrestles with the demons of her kin,
living life daily, uncomfortable in her skin.

I'll not be missed when I am gone; I've left no real impression,
and daily life will just go on, steeped in deep depression.


©Danielle White...

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A rocking horse is a child's toy, usually shaped like a horse and mounted on rockers similar to a rocking chair. Predecessors of the rocking horse may be seen in the rocking cradle, the tilting seats used during the Middle Ages for jousting practice as well as the wheeled hobby horse. The toy in its current form did not appear before the 17th century, though some conflicting sources note medieval manuscripts including references to carved rocking horses, presumably of the toy kind....

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