PoB's Quotes, Poems, Rhyms, and Limmericks

One who does not learn to give, will never appreciate what is given.

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Do not asked who built the wall, but rather why the wall was built.

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Do not enjoy what you do not enjoy. If you hate the world hate it, if you love the world love it, but do not bear false witness to your emotions. Do not fool yourself into manufacturing love. Be patient for love is patient, hope for love hopes. Do not rush what time deemed should move slowly and enjoyed slowly. Do not slow that which by its nature is quick. Live life as one who has a life to live, and not as one dreaming of living.

Why is the wall built?

Perhaps why, we shall never know.

Poetry

I find it hard to speak in rhyme
No matter how much energy I invest,
The numerous people I address,
To the point where I now think me obsessed
I simply can not rhyme.
To others it comes easily,
Like ones ABC’s or 123’s
But not for me, I’ll have you see
That rhyming comes not easily.
Once given a topic about flowers
In front of my desk I sat for hours,
Spending my time in the mind to scour
But in the end I’d find no power
Left within me to even glower.
I beat my breast with heavy thumps,
Pull the hair from my head in clumps
To bawl till in my throat a lump,
And I to sit there looking stumped.
“What a curse from God!,” I’d quickly scream
“No it’s not,” he’d answer me.
“Poems are not meant to be,
The rhyming things you make them seem.
But an expression from the soul to reveal,
Emotions too strong for the body to conceal.
They’re songs too loud for the mouth to hush.
Art that no mortal hand can brush.
It’s truly a gift, not a curse from I.”
And with that God said his goodbyes.
“He’s right you know,” I said to myself,
“Poetry is not meant be found on shelves.
An expression in words of your innermost feelings.
If anything you should worry of the spelling.
The grammar and story, and if you have time,
Think about making it something that rhymes.
If not, don’t worry, this world will still spin,
As long as you’ve told it what you held deep within.

That is very, very nice.

Wrath

Anger is a funny thing
It seems to draw to the smallest things
And quick as it showed, it’s quick to depart
And we are left with a sad broken heart.
The moment of satisfaction has come to an end,
And you’re standing alone with none of your friends.
You scared them all off in your blinding wrath
So stick with the choice and follow the path.
The moment is gone and the damage has been dealt.
Be it now or later repercussions will be felt.
You’ll hate yourself and curse the day you were born
For a moment of weakness your friends you have scorned.
Some will justify their anger to have been
Because to their character, you would not bend.
And sadly but true they’re left in the end,
And the company they hated, they now have no friends.
Justice be what’s quick to define,
What I asked for to start, in the end is now mine.
I didn’t want company, so off they flew.
I didn’t want friends, so I lost them too.
Companions and lovers they’re all one in the same.
I achieved what I wanted, I have no one to blame.
And we think ourselves are better off,
Forgetting of the screams and shouts.
How we got here it doesn’t matter,
It’s that we wanted it that does.
And if we didn’t and lost it all,
A warning to the next one, the he too does not fall.
Because a world without friends,
Be it filled to the brim,
Is a desolate homeland
Housing a people grim.

Something to be thankful for

This thanksgiving came with howling winds and thunderous rains.
The gray sky showed signs of contemptuous resignation,
Until it mustered the force to strike again with a howling vengeance.
The evening prior we traveled like studious worker ants to our food emporiums
And bought enough food to stuff our nation’s army. But we didn’t care.

Early the following morning we cooked till we became disgusted by the sight of food.
We would have been grateful with a measly sandwich or two.
But our homes burned at the roasting of our hams and turkeys.
It was summer within the houses that baked the breads and pies.
Our mashed potatoes stayed warm on the counter next to the filling and cranberry sauce.

And the people stood in jubilance in clusters debating, discussing, enjoying each others company. Cups of red wine, scotch and other assorted liquors in their hands as warm smiles and laughs overwhelmed the room as nostalgia consumed the cold that managed to escape in through the doors.

And when it was time to eat, solemnity hushed the living room.
We stood contemplating everything in quiet remorse, acknowledging the good times and bad.
And we passed the grateful bowl in ritual, putting into the invisible bowl why we are thankful.
And when all was said and done we ate. Oh how we ate.

The arguments made earlier that day,
The screaming that rang still in our ears,
The sniveling children who didn’t want to get dressed,
The frustration and hopelessness that came with us not being ready
Seemed to all disappear at the first turkey cutting.

Soon the plates piled high in the sink.
Enjoying the moment of irresponsibility for one more second.
The wine has been drained, and the coffee is cold.
Coats are being put own slowly.
“Farewell, and happy thanks giving.
Until next year, until tomorrow.”

As we left, packing empty plates and bowls,
The wind blew hard carrying leaves across the drive way,
Motioning to the world of one more thing to be grateful for.
That what gives throughout all seasons still gives today.
Where all things around us are dying, we live.
And that is something to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

😄 Very nice. ^_^

I was just reading a few of yours and "poetry" is so very true. I tend to rhyme in mine but the frustration you expressed I understand completely.

I'm a fan of your writing. Great stuff!

Broken Road

I walk every day down a broken road
littered with shattered dreams
and forgotten souls.
Both left to rot alone
along with the bodies
that once united them.
And I alone walk down this road each day
contemplating my purpose here.
To gaze at circling buzzards,
the dusk of an overwhelmed sun
the vast death that surrounds me
and the starless sky above.
But I am never at all saddened by this sight.
Made cold by the society I am forced to live in.
Forever meant to look
with an emotionless gaze
forever without compassion
devoid of love and care.
And soon I too will begin to fade away in this place.
Like a body of sand slowly dissipating in the wind.
A body that is whithering
but is still moving.
A being disappearing
but does not care.
And down this broken road many others will walk.
Forever to repeat this cycle of empty existence.
To be consumed into the hopelessness
the nothingness of this realm.
To die in a place without hope,
in a world full of death and starless skies.

Flower
A hand passes over brown lands.
Greens made dead by winters breath.
Slumber covers all once alive.
Change, subtle, seeps into the soil.
None take credit for such distortion.
All have abandoned this hopeless wasteland.
Save one seed, one gem of treasure.
Uncountable value in its bud.
Beauty beyond comprehension in its sprouting.
One flower amongst a sea of death.
Obelisks to look down at such helpless a cause,
To wait in anticipation for the inevitable.
Ice takes the ground and humbles the towers.
Snow bends the stalks so high.
But nothing can lower what is already modest.
To make small that which is already small.
The cold comes and passes.
Death slowly losses grip with its surroundings.
Beaten and pushed back by one lowly flower.
Endured the harshest winter for the love of spring.
And those once hopeless have died away.
Nourishment for the generation to come.
To look back and see the hopeful flower.
That lived in winter to die in spring.
So that those once dead can live again.

Gentle water's love
Such love my soul doth pour for you.
Like gentle water from the skies above
Such tender waters from this heart of mine.
To sprinkle much onto your heart’s ground.

But much of it, or all, be wasted.
A rain cloud brought against a mighty wall.
Through which the rock so cruelly turns and rips it.
To deprive such loving waters from your pastures green.

It trickles down the mountain face.
To run back towards the sea from which it came.
To rise again to walk the path again.
From which the cycle will meet no end.

But the water will take for itself a piece of the mountain.
Erode away the heart of stone so cold.
To bring once high so low; humble the proud.
To make the mountain top like dunes below.

But what of then to your now desert heart?
What little bristles steal away the sweat,
To give themselves the love that which I work,
Of pouring out to you the flooding rain cloud?

Why must it be only some brittle dried up leaves,
These leaves that show the change you undergo.
Why can’t it be once more alive and green?
From which my gentle rain clouds good waters bring?

For now what good will my affection prove?
To merely muddy your heart and slip within the cracks.
My affection has rotted all once good.
That too quick I brought to you what you wanted not.

Forever I to live with a pain of guilt.
Responsible for wrecking what stood for a cause.
That I would argue for my reason instead,
Then to see why you rose such a wall to start.

To you, my love, I can give no more.
Deprived myself of all I had for you.
So that you would change your view, for I
No longer see a chance to look at me.

The day I let her go

The day I let her go
Is a day I’ll always know.
As the one I let her get away from me.
She was just within my grasp.
One more moment and we’d’ve clasped.
But alas I let her go for another.
And to this day I won’t forget.
The first time that we met,
And the smile on her face when she greeted me.
But all I’ll have from her
Is the memories that were
A testament to our relationship.
And the sweetness of her voice
Will echo with my choice
And how I justified to set her free.
But if I had one chance
To take her for one dance
It’d be a memory I would leave with her.
But now from afar I’ll wonder
On these long days when I do ponder
What if, by fate, I made a different decision.
But alas I’ll always know,
The day I let her go.
Because I thought she was too good for me.

How we burned

How we dance this vicious cycle
How we cry for war to come.
How we raise our arms in triumph.
How we think the war is won.
How we laugh at times spent fighting.
How we mourn the fallen men.
How we stand before the sunset.
How we watch the coming end.
How we burned for our just causes.
How we seemed so much instilled.
How we like flint are freezing,
How we burn no longer still.

How we jump so soon, but don't stay aloft.
How we run but don't keep running.
How we rioted and screamed till our voice was numb.
How we thought ourselves men, but now are none.

Wow. I am in awe. There is something about your poetry that is rather entrancing, and I've only read what's on this page! I'm going to have to sit down and read the rest of it for sure. 😄

Originally posted by Maraja
Wow. I am in awe. There is something about your poetry that is rather entrancing, and I've only read what's on this page! I'm going to have to sit down and read the rest of it for sure. 😄

Thanks. True emotivist poetry, spoken from within.

This heart I've long rejected, I gaze at it still from afar.

For fear of longing, pain and suffering
long ago I sent my heart away.
I reasoned all pain would stray
and my life would end ascending.

And yet the door I gently closed,
I left a crack to see
If it would return to me
But alas, held against me, it stands disposed.

I see now how cruel I've been
To that which loved without end.
Forever now to live in a home without light.
A love I sent away one lonely night.

To this dark days and fallen suns,
to gaze and see the humble ember.
A flame that once burned impassioned, now snuffed out
To glow in quiet destitution while I enjoy the warmth of err.

What punishment for such actions take,
that God above did not warn me to make.
To no soul in hell could there be a crueler whip,
To make them stand in comfort while love is stripped.

For man to take away the life of all,
A murderer he would be called.
But for man to take the life of love,
The universe, a curse, is void of.

With all the gold and riches in the world,
I'd plead with fate to give me back my bosom.
And though from this world I'd be hurled,
Best to live with love in hell then in heaven with none.

I AM

I am that which
I can not be.
Words to far
To ever be seen.
Sights to deaf
For ears to hear.
Tastes too quite
And most unclear.
Shadows hide
In daylight waltzes.
Souls run far
To fear in marshes.
The Moon and stars
Will sing and dance
While ajar the
sun stands alone.
The world will spin
In square renditions.
In circular templates
Of diamonds made smooth.
Lifeless will sing
The blades once lively.
Hushed will whisper
The winter wind.
Towns alive are
In graves turning.
Trees are blooming
Autumn flowers.
Rain is falling
From lakes and rivers.
Oceans are filled
To the brim with sand.
Mountains made valleys
Valleys made skies.
Heavens mad tea cups,
Hells made wells.
Rocks to bread,
Salt to wine.
Sweat to tear drops,
Tears that cry.
Rushing waves,
Made tongues for feasting.
Beaches made mouths
For tongues to eating.
Insects made gems.
Animals made paper.
Humans made stars
For a nothingness vapor.
The universe moves
Inversely so calmly.
Passing and moving
Like waves to the sand.
Slowly eroding life
As it ebbs from white beaches.
Taking a piece of our lives
Back to itself.

Beneath the Cherry Tree

I saw you talking to another
This shouldn’t bother me but,
I couldn’t help but feel you betray me,
Though we never were together.
It seems so strange to see
Another make you smile.
I thought myself to be the only one
That could.
But jealously isn’t brewing in me.
Nor hatred for the one that made you happy.
I hate more my insecurity and diffidence.
That I never had what it took to approach you.
So now I’m left to see if who I am was worth it.
That at the cost of our happiness, or sadness,
But experience nonetheless,
To stay safe so far was better,
Then risking closeness with you.
So as I stand watching another take my place.
Where it should be me seeing you smile
From a front and so near,
I now stand besides you but ever afar.
I don’t think I’ll bother coming closer,
It doesn’t seem to worth it anymore.

A shoulder to cry upon, a hand to stab you with

Despair with me,
Loath in my company
I offer you comfort
Where others will not.
I give you more sadness
When you’d rather have joy.
I give you more darkness
When you’d rather have life.
I give you camaraderie
You give me your breath.
I prolong your suffering
You prolong my life.
You’d rather be free
From the stress of this problem.
And yet you can’t seem to stray
Too far from yourself.
You think it’s disheartening
I think it’s alleviating.
You seem to think I care.
It’s rather ironic
That you think you’re progressing,
That I am some sign of change.
When really you’re lying dying
And I’m burying you in your grave.
I’m not cynical or cruel,
I’m hardly sick or twisted.
And I’m not sadistic and cold.
But a life is no different
Then the worm of the ground,
And yours is no greater then dirt.
So forgive me if I
Fail to cry,
When you seek me for anything humane.
I’ll pat on your pack, but won’t give a crap
Because really I’m here for your soul.
And sooner or later, if they hadn’t got you,
I would have.

The light of the window pane

What love does break beyond the window pane?
To ease the cause of suffering an' that of pain?
And lift up high the chasing heart
To which all life below will find its start.

No tempest cloud can keep this love at bay,
Or to all mortal powers to it delay.
But upon the flash lightening, the break of the wing,
It pierces through all impediments and makes us sing.

But though it is a saddening note,
how much this love does give for all us folk.
So close we walk below this window, yet ignore,
the comfort and the joy it would outpour.

In stead of in this light, we'd rather be
stuck deep within the darkness then be free.
Slaves of our own perceptions and dillusions,
made to live in ignorance and confusion.

How godly do these men who radiate
when lo' we sit below them to await
the truth that they would love to share,
to liberate us from darkness and despair.

But equal all in all their truth the same,
"let go of all your passions and your games.
Be free of all your sins and your strife,
and come dwell with us in this light."

But many of us turn and leave,
to let them live within their dreams.
Impossible for us to abandon our lusts.
To rather keep our lives then to them adjust.

So we'll wander passing beneath this light.
Who many, when found it, abandon this night.
The rest of find it better to gaze,
and stand right here where we've always stayed.