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Best Poems Written by Andreas Simic

Below are the all-time best Andreas Simic poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Forgiveness

Life is indeed an incredible journey
when I was young I grew up in a different place
that place was the cause of many wars

When we left there, I was a mere child and
it was to allow us children the opportunity
for a better life and a chance for normalcy

Yet learning a new language, being ostracized
feeling the pain of being different and carrying
the stigma of being a foreigner was a heavy burden

And were all part of the process of assimilation
of fitting in, of being like everyone else
oft a painful journey both physically and mentally

Years of being different, melding to become the same
and so over time you blend in, the differences becoming
less stark, day by day, year by year

Then as if by magic you are one of them
you graduate high school and college and get a job
you have children, own a home and a standing in the community

You realize that there comes a time to forgive
forgive your parents for taking you from your old home
where you knew who you were and looked like everyone else

Forgive the other kids that bullied you and made you feel unwanted
for they were kids being kids and didn’t know any other way
to accept someone from someplace else

Forgive yourself for feeling the way you did towards them
for in the end we all learn, learn to adapt, learn about acceptance
and learn to forgive.

Andreas Simic©

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A Drop In the Bucket

I spoke to God the other day
Wanting to hear what he had to say

My ask 
What is my task

Why am I here at all 
Every winter, spring, summer and fall

The reply is always the same
Make a difference in a life regardless of their name

But how can I do this 
When my life has been far from bliss

Why me I express again
Erstwhile checking if I am sane

For I am but one from many a billion
Some who have many a million

What makes me different from the rest
Uniquely qualified for this quest

A drop in the bucket is how I feel
Far from someone who can make this real

The answer is always a surprise
One I forget and have oft to re-surmise

No deed no matter how small
Counts equal to them all 

It may make someone’s moment
Or cause them to lament

That they too have been heaven sent
To be the treasure they were meant

Each rain drop adds to the lake
This we should never forsake

Andreas Simic©

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Now and Then In 2017

Now and Then in 2017©

There was a time when I was younger
That there was this constant hunger
	
Time has passed and the years have flown by 
Sometimes joy and laughter, sometimes a good cry

Vows kept under the stars we met
A grandson that keeps me young without regret

Where once I had a great left hook
I now rely on Facebook

I could compete at a track meet
What I do now is Tweet from my seat

In lieu of at the rink with my team
I’m Linked In to the latest dream

Before, at the diamond with a bat
After, I share the world with Snap Chat

Amazon was a great river in Brazil
Now an eCommerce site with a bill

Past, hanging out at the mall looking for chicks
Present, replaced by watching Netflix pics

It used to be four on the floor
Instead my best friend is an I Phone more

Many hours once spent polishing chrome
Replaced by Google Chrome in your home 

Parallel parking used to be a real pain 
My car parks by itself again and again

At the pumps no more
The car is electric and less a chore

I find myself often saying
Is there an “app” for that, and then playing

In conclusion I have no dilution of days gone by
The days of yore are long gone and I’m on standby

To give it all a try

Andreas Simic©

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She Is the Flower Amongst the Flowers

She is the Flower Amongst the Flowers

Like her fellow kind she is graceful as her petals reach for the morning sunlight

Soft and gentle in the cool morning breeze she sways

In that moment there is calmness that belies her truth

For she sheds the morning dew drops like the tears of someone you hold dear 

Her long slender neck carries the heavy load which grows with time and maturity

If she had lips one would need to be cautious for she is laced with thorns

Thorns that can stab you whether wittingly or unwittingly and make you bleed

The cuts sharp and piercing and not something to be taken lightly

They will leave you in pain like a heart that has been torn

Her beginning is like most from a small acorn of a seed she begins to sprout

Only a glimpse of what she will ultimately become shows in those early days

But one day her long stem like the legs of a shapely woman will be firm and supple

Time will pass and she will outgrow many of her family

She will be more popular and hold a special place 

When selected for meaning in people’s lives

Like the moods of a woman her colors are varied 

And carry with them the potential for an array of emotions

The deepness of meaning representing the well of life

Sometimes half full and sometimes half empty but always refreshing

Each color part of a spectrum and the bounty of feelings it can bring

The folds of her blossom are complicated and intricate yet delicate

From a distance she stands out to your eye, her beauty catching your breath

Her shapeliness recognizable on sight like a familiar friend, relative or lover

She is the flower among flowers

She is the rose

Andreas Simic©

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The Balancing Act

The Balancing Act

It is as though I am constantly in a balancing act
I envy those that seemingly do not go through 
This process of weighing things in my mind

Those like poker players that can go “all in”
Shove their chips into the middle of the table
As if there wasn’t even a fore thought involved

No, my mind has to go through “the process”
Is this a good decision or bad
What will be the consequences

Why am I doing this
What are the odds of something bad happening
How will the results affect my life

I look at the homeless who wander my streets
Judgment floods my mind 
But is there jealousy at the heart of it

Is theirs a conscious choice
To have no bosses, no one to account to
Are they free from the balancing act

What of the daredevils that navigate Niagara falls
Who leap to peril, do they juggle their decision
Or is there absolute clarity of the mind

Pros and cons
Ins and outs
Good or bad

Happy or sad
Mad or glad
The balancing act

Andreas Simic©

Details | Andreas Simic Poem

Depression You Have Become My Obsession

Depression you have Become My Obsession©

Depression you have become my obsession of every waking moment
and oft while I sleep which is never too deep

You threw my marriage under thy carriage
and the carnage dost continue to this day I dare say.

Cloudy days bring you hither to my door and with them
mayhem that underscore how I dread thee all the more

You have taken me to thy brink such that I can no longer think
clear thoughts to lead the way to that better day

Taking pills is no thrill and makes my head fill with shrill
to avoid those awful thoughts that may end up to mine own kill

At my own hands no less, what a royal mess
is there anyone can who can bless me of this abscess

So I cower in the dark and harkens back to the good ole days
when then things were cheery with my deary

Those times when a hug and a squeeze be the cure
and sweet Louise that was for sure

Now, I must be patient or my physicians will makest me a patient be
and sit idly by as they apply their best effort...

To make me whole again

Andreas Simic©

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Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree
How I love thee

Where’s thy pine cone I want to see
That fills me with so much glee

And has me plead 
Where is thy seed 

That will spring forth future generations
And hence bring great tribulations

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree
How I love thee

For now and evermore
You bring happiness to my shore

They vibrant colors I behold
If the truth doth be told

Thy aroma in my nose
Brings me to a close

Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree
How I love thee

Andreas Simic©

Details | Andreas Simic Poem

The Funny White Stuff

It is hard to believe
That there is a part of the world

Where no funny white stuff exists at all
This thing that can create great pleasure

Or be seen as a plague or aggravation
Which some will never experience

How something so good can also be so bad
In one moment a plaything

And in another a quagmire to escape
A symbol for the chills and cold

Or that which can bring a warm glow to our hearts
Those that love to slide cherish it

While those that drive oft curse it
Yet it is made of the same thing

You can throw or fling it for fun
Build a fort or igloo too

If need be it’s a water source
And hence a precious resource

Floating from the sky above
It can create quite a scene

Leading people to dream
Especially those that have not seen

The magic and wonder
Of the season and the funny white stuff

Andreas Simic©

Details | Andreas Simic Poem

She Is Vulcan

She is Vulcan

She is a Vulcan
Part Seductress
Part Enigma

She will lure you into her sphere
The sound of her music a trap
You’re unaware of its allure

Like a kiss that captivates your heart
Leaving you wondering is this madness
Until caught in its entanglement

You ask how did I get here
Why was I such easy prey
When will I learn

Yet again shopping around
The fractals have led you wrong
Is this self sacrifice you ponder

Led down a garden path
Betrayed by yearnings thought pure
Her crown like a shiny object reels you in

Her lipstick captivates you
Her eyes like a gravitational pull
Her horns pierce your heart

Like a cigarette burn left unattended
The wound festers like an assassin
Until it feels like a lobotomy

It is only as the poison spreads that you realize
It was all a game to bring on a revolution
Vengeance the end goal

She is an artist vying for your love
Throwing gasoline on our passion
As if struck by lightning the reverberation hits

There is a lesson to be learned
But what
And is it too late

Andreas Simic©

Details | Andreas Simic Poem

The Quandary

The Quandary

Standing high on the mountain side 
I take in the first breath of morning
It seems so much more refreshing here
Maybe it is the altitude that we are at 

The aroma of my morning brew reaches my nostrils
The steam a reminder of the time of year
As I survey the pristine landscape my thoughts wander to home
Father would be at the farm readying for harvest

He too would be having his first cup of java
I can hear mother in the background reminding him of something
Soon he would be culling the herd for winter meat
Isn’t that what people say I do, cull 

Yet for me, gazing down the hillside, it does not feel the same
Sure I do this with my fellow men to survive 
But it feels like we are taking them out in their prime
That somehow it is a travesty 

Back at some distant headquarters they will remind that others will follow
We are only doing what needs to be done
That much good will come of what we will do today
And in that is my quandary

I see them fall some younger, some older, some not at all
Those few spared to provide seed for new generations
That last gasp is the same regardless of their age
The word “timber” signaling their death knell
 
That which took decades if not centuries to grow
Will be felled in a matter of minutes
The tree which has lived longer than I now dead
A seedling placed where it once so proudly stood

I am a logger
But you can call me Bob

Andreas Simic©