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Best Poems Written by Timothy Mattson

Below are the all-time best Timothy Mattson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

The Fountain of Truth

It's a spring eternal,
    In the mind of man.
With a perpetual flow,
    As if God's master plan.

At times, the waterway,
    Gets interrupted and clogged.
Where pressures can build,
    Though it's often camouflaged.

Just like busy, little beavers,
    Will pack mud and debris.
So too does mankind, though
    It's seldom a guarantee.

Yet no matter the obstruction,
    Water eventually finds its way.
Though when it bursts, it can flood
    Through . . . and ruin a liar's day.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

DemoCrazy, 2024

It's a day that will live on and haunt history,
    When a once proud nation, took a leap back in time.
        As millions placed their bet on a fat felon,
            While a red wave washed away any crime.

Sadly, the majorities' voice was muted, as it
    Whispered quietly all the way to the polls.
        Where a fraudulent felon convicted a country,
            To an incarceration term with heavy tolls.

What's been spoken of in the message is penal payback,
    And its vengeful talons are in a Project 2025.
        Now those of conscience easily warn of its folly,
            As the puppet masters quickly turn to those alive.

This is a turning point in the ledger of liberty,
    When the electorate turned its back on reality.
        But if I dare to look forward and prognosticate...
            We'll bear witness to social and cultural chastity.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

It's Only Right

Can the day ever be seen,
    Where we respect differences among us all?
Or must our obedience to an
    Angry God, force a hand to build a wall?

If morality is justly placed, the
    Spread of power must be even and diffused.
Where all are given parity, and the
    Truth will be observed, not refused.


Because when we open our eyes and mind,
    The roots of chaos are sown buried and deep.
While they strangle the harvest of humanity,
    Without a season so it will never sleep.

This issue can be seen globally,
    Traversing time and continents with its reach.
Yet the conclusion has created a divide,
    With a corrupt answer leftover to teach.

And while mankind seeks a lawful remedy,
    With a color spectrum filtered by black and white.
Hope and faith may survive a universal
    Reality, that's forever present between wrong and right.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

Choice Questions

How is it, that we stumble along,
    Only to ultimately find our way?
Amongst the fractured rubble,
    And apparent, infinite fray.

Where we realize that, we're
    Here not just to exist . . .
But to endlessly struggle,
    And pacify to persist.

Do we solely seek to counter,
    All the pains with more joy?
While standing upon the ignorance,
    That we often employ.

What scales are seen to be level,
    And true enough to choose?
Such that a measured balance
    Results, not to win or lose.

If we take away from that,
    Which is there right now . . .
Can it ever be recovered,
    Beneath an earthen plow?

When the past, present, and future,
    Allow wisdom its view . . .
Maybe then, the horizon seen will be
    Infinite, and our vision will be true.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

Sexiled

I am now beginning to wonder,
    Can I do it on my own?
Being left to an island, behind
    Closed doors, solely at home.

My realm of human contact,
    Is by laptop, television, or phone.
While any conversation is with myself,
    Without connection or tone.

Will my social skills wither
    And erode to the bone?
Or does the silence let me
    Appreciate, this time alone?

As many of us will borrow from,
    This experience unknown.
Though it has drained so much collateral,
    There's little leftover to loan.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

State of the Union

I've been watching these two groups lately,
Left and right & all those between.
Where resolutions appear adrift or absent,
And legislation became downright mean.

The battling and the bickering, seems to be
Creating fear all along to blame.
While moderation and discourse through debate,
Has fallen painfully, only to face shame.

As this nationalism is bantered about,
Extolling the revered, capitalistic way
Only to 'trash talk' anything socialistic,
As if the demonic would come out to play.

And forget anything of a brave new world,
As globalization is fought and ignored.
Because that one world government might
Loom closer to some, & we know how that's deplored.

Yet we have also witnessed a dismal harvest,
When seeds of distrust finally bore their fruit.
While some felt it added to our greatness,
More saw only failure that was absolute. 

Since our greatness isn't defined by the irrational,
Its definition lies with opportunity & equal chance.
So as we feed on our roots of diversity & fairness,
Our growth will be the fuel to romance.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

Number 42

I am reminded of his legacy,
    Through the media events.
        Where he opened doors
            In a professional sport,
                among many malcontents.

While learning about his struggles,
    I became certainly more impressed.
        As he surpassed in my mind,
            Images of Bo and Deion . . .
                He was truly blessed.

I don't know of any other, that
    Could skillfully perform in so many ways.
        While a collegian, with Football, Basketball,
            Baseball and Track & Field . . . 
                I mean Jesus, there's only so many days!

As an athlete, receiving the 
    Accolades, while garnering the
        Endless, admiring looks.
            He must have mastered the
                Space-Time continuum, if he
                     Was ever to hit the books.

This is why #42, has moved up
    The list, as the GOAT to number one.
        Since he was responsible for so much
            More, than his ability to outrun.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

Memo To Maga

For those residents in MAGAville,
    That can't seem to pull their heads out of Trumps' ass.
        Take a minute away from those affectionate kisses, and
            For that moment, you might not be without class.

I know it must be difficult for you,
    To honestly think and even act for yourself.
        But what the hell, take a break from your ignorance,
            And raise your mind above that bottom shelf.

Maybe then you can show some independence,
    Since you don't always have to follow the crowd.
        While those keepers of oaths and stupidity,
            Can look elsewhere to make their boys proud.

Because honestly, you've been missing the boat of reality,
    While sailing on a junket to an island of fantasy.
        And pardon me against all truth that's social,
            But that gibberish is quite simply, lunacy!

So stand tall, pull your big-boy pants on,
    Take a deep breath, then swallow hard.
        Take a look in the mirror with clear eyes,
            Find the truth behind the lies, and what remains is a canard.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

The Five W's

Historically,They are known to be
The foundation of journalistic integrity.
Though lately, many might argue
They've been replaced, with opinion's severity.

Who, could cause this metamorphism,
With the skill of a master puppeteer?
Or was this performance, one for the ages,
With multiple actors that disappear?

What, has created this shift in reporting,
From the factual to that surmised?
Is it all ratings and political spin . . .
Or more drama to keep us surprised?

When, will this story come to an end,
So that the truth can be told?
Since the lies are costing people's lives,
As if it's a mystical chokehold.

Where, has this deception arisen,
That has captured those willing to believe?
Because those roots must be removed from
The ground, if we're to move beyond and achieve.

Why, has the fiction turned away reality,
Giving to those a different view?
While it ignores many facts and science,
No matter how long they're held to be true.

Hopefully, the basic tenets we have relied upon,
Can survive through a lens of what's real.
Because if our journey continues based on false
Footings, that slippery slope, may be all we feel.

Details | Timothy Mattson Poem

Serve, Set, Dig, Spike

Most games are well-grounded,
    To earthen goals they can defeat.
        While few rise above the horizon,
            With constant volleys they can repeat.

                The game elevates to new heights,
                    Gracefully reaching above it all.
                        As angelic figures fly beyond,
                            Earthbound shackles that seem small.

                                Although clear boundaries guide play,
                                    There's no limit from what divides.
                                        The mortal effort to touch the heavens,
                                            Where the ethereal collides.