Do you love me as much as it takes to understand that there are times I want to be weak
Times when the whole world knows me for being a strong woman
Although I don't put on a fancy mask
Even the strongest of women have times they feel weak and broken
And when I come running to you for a warm embrace, don't remind me of my strength and cool me down
Let me fall in your arms
Adore the beauty of love when I break down and your shoulders get drenched of my tears
Reminisce the way I feel like a weakling
Carry my darkness and caress its hair but still keep it away from light
It is exactly where it wants to be
Don't let the mess of me be touched by your perfection
Stand there and find comfort in the vastness of my brittle world
Love me Fragile
Love me Raw
Love me Black
We all knew a fellow named ‘Tiny Tim’
Fit as a fiddle, though extremely slim
Poor Tim had weakling muscles
And needed a side hustle
So he spent all his spare time in the gym
A lunar luster spills a silvershine
cascade of nebulating moonshine lilt
onto a night-time field, drawing a quilt
of pale radiance over the still vine.
A myriad of glowing serpentine
twines sleep.—but, slithering round its stout stilt,
a wakeless plant is working out its tilt.—
It’s fruit will not be ripe enough for wine.
So see I, amidst the flourishing grape,
the withering blossoms of one string;
And gazing on this midnight unlandscape,
—too, upon this weakling growth, this failing
sproutling,—I sense the shiver whispering
through the light leaves,—all but those yet ailing.—
A burger with fries that are fit for a king
That's not gonna lose weight you big ding a-ling
For a slimmer bod
Give a negative nod
No junk food, you'll be a 98 pound weakling
My hilly paths are full of pits, and my trails turn and twist.
My life and destiny have contracted clandestine tryst.
As there are dams blocking rivers that flow flawlessly
Unknown hurdles put pauses to life rather lawlessly.
Brick by brick how cautiously I construct my dream castle!
How a storm pulls it down as though it's a hut on the hill!
Exploring, inventing, and enlightening, I move on.
Towards absurd spells of death, my mortal being is drawn
Inner aches, like yokes, weigh me when I let go of my worries.
Pains and grieves, like traumas, bring in tumultuous flurries.
Soul passes through deserts of spiritual emptiness.
Pilgrimages of perfection become pride-filled pettiness.
With my descents and falls, I, a weakling, come to my Lord
He lifts me from dust and takes me to his heavenly abode.
As a vulture that gains its youthfulness, I take new birth.
Dark nights of my soul end and bright days lead to endless mirth.
I detest cowards who cower at night's darkness,
afraid of shadows and their own demons.
Fear is a thief that steals courage
and leaves only cowardice in its wake.
Be a warrior, not a weakling.
Face your fears,
and let the darkness fuel your lights fire.
Weakness is not an option.
To show that you care
When on your chin is fur,
Because..."All men are the same."
For, those who care will have their hearts damaged and eyes,
filled with bloodlike tears.
And once you're seen crying,
Or "whimpering", then you're a weakling.
Yet, men are supposed to be Strong.
Because, "All men are the same", right?
So, play along and tell tales
Of how strong you are
And how long in the dark you can dwell,
Fear, being the last thing you can even smell.
Now it is shameful,
To appear soft and loving
When others are rough and tough
If the blanket goes off, no need for tugging,
For you will give us another reason to laugh
Because, "All men are strong!"
For, soft and loving are qualities not suitable
For a player who knows how the ball rolls.
You can't be a man, yet not a player
That's just a wish, you're a terrible liar.
And besides, "All men are the same", right?
Those five Soldier of Christ
Is more powerful than those
Five thousand weakling.
Written for the contest "Poe in the style of Plath" sponsored by Tom Woody
I am a weakling against supremely star-studded skies
Where stolen streams of light are not enough for it to uprise
My warrior soul is on knees, as sour scars cut very deep
The vinegary wounds in my veins can cause stones to weep
To cross this apocalyptic abyss, I only have frightened might
Avalanche of agony has hit volcanic edge of my perilous plight
No savior comes to the rescue, as I lay with my frozen fears
Fighting, fighting eversince, I found no way past trail of tears
Am I a cowardly creature just to ask for a breath of peace?
Too many of rainbows before my eyes, I can't tell apart malice
Too numb to flap wings of hope only, so I lied in my poems oftentimes
Not a melody of glazed strings, life sounds a lot like rusty rhymes
I hope I met the requirements of the challenge. I have read a few of Poe's and Plath's poems only, I just hope I was able to do justice to keep the macabre vibes of both of these poets' writing style. Thank you for this wonderful contest Tom!
I don't think I can do this.
I will never be prepared enough
to avoid being swept away
by this crazy death dance
the world has become.
I do not have enough bandages,
medications, knives or guns.
What I have, the world has made useless.
War will not kill the weak,
weakness kills the weak
and I am a weakling
with no power
to save what I have gathered together
while turning a blind eye.
The hatred is tipping over.
Can you feel the insanity
toppling over the pit it has dug?
I don't think we can survive ourselves
I don't think anymore,
I just hide my eyes from the blood,
but there is always more blood
and never enough bandages.
You little monstrous beast
Sucking the life out of me
Leaving me with a disease
No matter how hard I clap for your death
You always sing your rebellious lullaby
Dancing round my ears
Showing off how hard it is to be killed
You wait for my weakling body to heal
And then you strike again
With your venomous sting
Why not strike in the morning?
When I can clearly see your tiny little body
For you will taste death that day
It's as Early as the first drop of a water
Water from no ocean, just purification and sweat
All are illusion.
In a square garden full of grown habitant full of beard, squirk face,beautifying set of rags and a weakling nature of ideology
Stretching and footing like a king in a Palace, living luxury in the sphere of dirt, fears and tears
Comes a sound and word like a blowing breeze of Eden
Shaking the ears with tunes of rhythm
Dancing, moving,, laughing in an happy tree manners
A sound move intrigue of Bullets, Aggression and Oppression
Thereafter, a shining chariot with flames of fire and lightening shows a fang of and smile throwing stones with a whip leather asking
"Lord'd we start the Dance?
Lord'd we start the merry?"
Shabbily! Shabbily!! Shabbily!!!
We sing the joyous of our heart into iniquities
We Dance our moves into shell.
The Gathering went off and woefully.
One can a secret leak
While one didn't dare speak
All over seeming weak
But could fight for a week;
At a weakling not spit
But against A Camp fit
Live as needy prophet;
Starved eyes not on profit...
One can drop Bad Habits,
Yet much linked with their bits;
Record a lot of hits
But of Bob's Scattered wits;
Complete assignments fast
But later take The Last;
Meet a friend and walk past,
Friend dead, flag at half mask.
Gentle mists from a smattering of clouds
Struggling to make their way to the ground
The sun is having its way far, far above
Sending rays of shimmering searing down,
Turning the droplets into a rising steam.
Darker clouds gathering on the far horizon
Chant unbridled threats at the summer sky
Invite the weakling mists to make another try
Challenging the partly cloudy summery day,
But clearly western weather is coming our way.
Quickly the thunderheads make their move
Again empowering the tiny droplets of mist
A gusty cool wind gushes in from the north,
Chasing me inside with a sudden downpour.
The power is flickering, the lights gone off
Strong bursts of thunder are accompanied
With frightening streaks of lightning bolts,
And, just as quickly, the rain clouds move on
To dump their anger on another destination.
The lights come back on and the noises stop
As the sun comes out, and the humidity drops.
Written June 2, 2022
© Francis Maugo
Never surrender
Never surrender.
Move on the up and up with
strength from the inside.
Continuously accept,
Continuously look forward.
Never be the person
Who is viewed as a weakling.
Recall the past,
Search for what's to come.
Continuously recall it's not
unexpected great to be dark.
You are unique,
You are interesting.
To go far in life is the thing that
you should look for.
You are splendid,
You demonstrate to astound each day,
Also there is somebody who will
cherish you all aro und
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