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Best Poems Written by Anthony Mays

Below are the all-time best Anthony Mays poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Where I Go

I lie here watching all the glorious places pass by along my journey.
To be sure, my course was set many years ago making my passage measured only in terms of near or far.
At times I am lazy.
But I call it subdued—my vitality, intensity, and strength fully intact until I am called to stage.
When I first began, I used to babble.
Then over the course of forever, I couldn’t stop streaming the glee of my growing existence.
Everyone noticed and took advantage.
Now, that natural calling beckons and I am ready to perform my act in whatever city or town I am in.
As the stage is set and the light overhead is dimmed, the heavens open their arms to announce my appearance.
Rising to the summons, my new height permits me to better see and observe my audience who anxiously await how I will play out.
With the spotlight now on me, I begin to do a slow dance, gradually increasing the natural flow of my movement and using the entire stage.
Should I dazzle them with a few spins or whirls, I wonder—those tricks which I have perfected from past visits?
No, it does not matter what they think of me, for I will be forgiven as I always am.
From their front row perches, the spectators, the viewers, the onlookers judge my movement intently and anticipate my crescendo, ever fearful for a delay.
The audience has always marveled at me, sat by my side, and had their souls cleansed by me.
I willingly have let them use me to reach their own destiny, ply their trades, or take the bounty that lies within me.
You see ours is a mutual benefit, or at least should be, but lately I’ve noticed fewer care as they did before.
So reaching this stage allows me to purge some of the impurities which have been cast in my direction; revenge in a way for their poor behavior.
I don’t do it out of malice, or hate, or disgust; no, I do it because it is part of my nature and I know I will be forgiven.
Beyond the edges of this stage and my immediate audience, I hear gasps of shame and pity and sympathy.
Their feelings and worries are of no concern to me, as at this moment I am called to show the power, depth, and energy of my wild dance.
Fully I am committed as I wind, twist, snake, and meander all the while viewing my audience up close and trying to gauge their forgiveness.
Only then do I notice the terror and sadness in their eyes beseeching me to go away; praying for an empty stage.
Nevertheless, I continue to gyrate and roar as I attempt to swoop them into my arms knowing they will be forgiving.
Attempts are made to push me away, but I am relentless in my pursuit of them.
Few will win the contest between us because, at this stage of my dance, I am an overpowering force.
Unstoppable until I have exhausted all the elements which feed my hunger to frolic and rumble on this stage.
When I am finished, I will return to my calmer self and once again behave as expected.
Because that is what floods do when they die and are forgiven.

END

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The Path I Seek

I seek not to be a presence. Forces beyond my control dictate the interactions I will have with those who come across my path. These forces disturb me in ways that I cannot understand, yet I react to them with efficiency.

Subtlety is not one of my traits. Even now, I am poised to move in the direction to which I am called. It is a direction that could have great impact. Although I may waver in the course set before me, I am nonetheless committed until another force impedes me.

On the path I seek, I can see farther than one can imagine. Even though I only have one eye, it is an eye that is clear, an eye that makes a statement. You would think that having only one eye, any spinning and turning I do would make me extremely dizzy. Nay, say I, I move ahead on the path I seek.

On course, on time, and always considering my wall. It is not a wall to jump over, or to keep me from something or someone. Instead, it is everything and everyone else who would need or want to have a wall equivalent to mine. Theirs would be a wall to keep me from them.

The path I seek can be strewn with objects that tend to slow me down. Nonetheless, I struggle against them, and keep surging forward. I depend on my own wrath and fury to keep me moving ever closer to my stated purpose, whatever it may be. At some point, I know I will lose all ability to continue down the path I seek.

Along the path I seek, I watch events unfold before me with my one eye. It is an eye that, while surrounded with moisture, does not blink, shows little mercy, and does not cry. It does not cry even as my wall begins to crumble. The crying is only left to those dear beings I leave behind along my path.

I wish I could feel the lives I touch but, the harsh truth is, I have no feelings. I am a creation that will never know what a feeling is. And thus, no love, no hate, no joy, no sadness will stay me from the path I seek.

Alas, my wrath and fury are destined to die a slow death as I continue along the path I seek. I will not be missed, but I may be remembered. I will surely be cursed and called a monster.

And before my eye finally sleeps, I get one last peek at where I have been.
Still, I cannot cry over the destruction and anguish I have wrought during my passing. I only know that I will come this way again, because that is what hurricanes do along the paths they seek.
END

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City of Cork

It is far, far better that I see
and train my eyes to look for thee.
Try, trying, tried but to no avail,
To gaze upon shores through fog’s veil
For a glimpse of my dear city Cork.