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Best Poems Written by A. Dark Scottishhorse

Below are the all-time best A. Dark Scottishhorse poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | A. Dark Scottishhorse Poem

A Smile

A Smile

 A smile extends a hand of hope

 A smile retrieves a heart of gold

 A smile relieves my apprehensions

 A smile welcomes with open arms

 A smile calms an uneasiness

 A smile peaks my curiosity

 A smile pulls you closer

 A smile accepts all that you are

 A smile melts the ice we stand on

 A smile freezes the pain we hold on to

 A smile warms my weary cold feet

 A smile cools before I over heat

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The Darkness That Is

THE DARKNESS THAT IS

They have no idea of the struggle I live with everyday and every night.

I clime the life that I have made only to find that someone has cut the rope.

Best efforts only help the chosen and angry, never the needy and deserving.

I can no longer look to the next day as the one, I must move on.

My loss is great but I am not unusual for there is much loss among us.

In time of brokenness a heart will beat irregular and oblong with pain.

A mistake made created a gash a long time ago never to heal.

I hold and want to drop but am afraid to fly on instrumentation only.

It seems deliberate and with malice with no end in sight.

Every minute is survival to the next with no time for rejoicing.

Could I be the only one and be happy, no but maybe I could be happier.

The edge is close but my beauty stands between me and it.

Why did I not see it, the noise was great and the book was open?

Many will never know how it could be, some will only know those who do.

Time is taken but not compensated for, this damages what will become.

Traveling never to put distance in front of what is behind.

It exists without menace but moves with directional fortitude and vengeance.

Fresh tears and old pain become today’s anguish.

Separation proves true love exists for the hated.

Causing discomfort regrettably knowing the perpetrator.

Companionship forcibly terminated without notice and warning.

Altering the manifestation with chemicals is detrimental to any cure.

Dreams do not allow escape from those who wish to do us harm.

Why do they take it out on you and I, when we present no avenue?

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9 Out of 10

A Shattered Heart Of Gold In A Pool Of Tears

Eyes Of Blue Surrounded In Darkness Void Of The Stars

Discarded Wishes On A Bed Of Roses Reduced To Petals

White Doves Released Never To Return The Olive Branches

Beaches Without Waves Never To See Sunrises Or Sunsets

Silent Voices Carry No Sounds To Soft Lips We Loved

Messages In Bottles Forbidden To Come Ashore Can't Be Read

Songs Without The Words Are Sung Without Being Heard

Locks Without Keys Open No Doors To Happy New Places

Figureless Shadows Cloud The Sun Bringing Rain To Our Fun

Details | A. Dark Scottishhorse Poem

It Lives In the Innocent

The innocent are the perfect cover they know no better

The innocent fight harder because they are the innocent

The innocent use passion for they are not guilty

The innocent portray safety in dangerous times

The innocent hide in plain sight

The innocent will only be innocent once

The innocent give shelter to easy promises

The innocent grow out of time

The innocent flow out of experience

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Here’s what I should have done

I should have heard all the indications that the level of danger was low; no shots fired, no weapons, no anger or injuries, and no screaming, just a possible exchange of counterfeit currency.

I should have arrived on scene happy and glad that this was not a place of terror from gun shots, citizens hurt and in fear. 

I should have gotten out of my vehicle ready to administer help and guidance.

I should have immediately begun to listen and realize that the level of danger was in fact low, and could simply have been maintained at this level.

I should have had this citizen sit back down on the sidewalk with his back against the wall.

I should have had two of my fellow officers one at my ten, and one at my two help watch and attend to the citizen.

I should have looked after the citizen and only used appropriate force equivalent to my deterrents if a detention was needed to ballast the citizen.

I should have asked allot more questions.

I should have recognized a human being was doing his best to comply.

I should have used compassion to resolve a minor dilemma.

I should have slowed down and remained calm, project a sense of controlled leadership.

I should have reached out a hand of security and endearment.

I should have served and protected.

Details | A. Dark Scottishhorse Poem

A Steelhead Forced to Live in a Puddle

His spawning would be free and dedicated to those that were beholding of his challenges, those that began ahead of this time, those that look out beyond this point in time.

He would be placed carefully with absolute purity in a diminishing amount of support. The fight was only in terms of molecular structure comparable to a reference point.

There is no realization a conscious utopia can bring a Steelhead in the shallow puddle he fights to escape, the puddle of his abandon neglect to fight beyond the constraints of the puddle. 

Tomorrow may bring rain that fills a mind dried and packaged. Bigger fish school to retreat to open waters. Your puddle gathers, do not lose your scales to the winds of a beach on an island unseen. 

Find the escape to take your place before a demolition of nature with those that claim to control it. Down the road awaits directions, place care and reward yourself with freedom.

Find and secure the very love you risk all at no thought. Retrieve all behind and bring forward to safe haven. Challenges cannot destroy the fortress standing before it.

Coarse bottoms reveal sharp edges on all sides. Swim swiftly beyond the shards that cut. Propel yourself, do not look for the tug, your fenders will slow the progression of any harm in time for attention.

Don't be lured by shiny lights on top of fake personalities. Don't allow your bait to be over served and under appreciated. Find your deep spot and pray for a catch and release.

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The Dry Tear

The sandman moved to the corner as I eyed him. The pain creased, and sheared my attention. Pain would shoot blanks at my head. Running would only excite the strange feeling of being followed but not contacted. I touch my memory and cut my finger, blood covers dry tears. My lip curls, quivers, and then flattens. I work too hard to see through crusted saline. Fingers can’t clean away the frozen, shattered, lens from dirt. I can feel the moment but a reaction is concealed in a dry tear. I see myself on the ground unable to stand, but am I standing? I cling to the hair I pulled out. I look at it as I pick up the mane I once had. It was my strength, it was my distinction. But they never let me be myself so my mane was just me fighting back at a wall to high to clime. Once again I look back, once again I break the skin. There are no handles to keep from falling. The edge of time moves away, but than retracts towards me, I react with a windless breath. I try to breath, but feel no life. My cries are mute, I am not heard. I drown in a dry lake in a very deep valley. Only shards of light reach me, I feel the warmth on fingers but it is fleeting. The heat is being replaced with chilling cold. Soon I see the breath of my despair. Desperate to escape I challenged my gate keeper. Weakness buckles my knees but doesn’t change the equation. I push my hand fully into the light and feel the evaporation.

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Rat Race

Get out of the race, you can’t control the pace. You’re trying too hard 

to finish first in a competition that has no composition. Forget

what has been programmed to stay, it is no longer the day. Feel relief 

as you let go and pull back, move away from the attack. Smile and 

watch what happens to your mind; now leave the baggage behind, 

for there is no change in time. Don’t give in to temptation, it is only 

manipulation. They play for the other team, so stick to your dream. 

The weight you put around your neck reject, stand tall above all. We 

only need to fit in from within. Look for good news and waste no time 

to bad. Don’t be mad; don’t be sad, just be glad you can’t be had.

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Pockets

We are the fabric of life, not politicians or governments. They are only buttons, snaps, and stitching holding the fabric together. Zippers and velcro control the flow and access to the fabric. We are the ones who repair and care for that fabric. We replace the lost buttons, sew the tears and hem the cuffs. We also decide what goes in the pockets. We can’t allow the fabric to be compromised and burdened with the wrong buttons and tailoring. We must look to each other for guidance to help remove the dirt from the fabric. We must empty the pockets full of lint. We must open the pockets sewn shut. Once the pockets are open they must stay open for all. They must never be a place for lint and perceptions again.