Posted by Here’s a short collection of poetry I wrote for a contest a little while ago. I mostly write fiction stories, but sometimes I like to mess around with poetry. Enjoy.
Happiness
Everyone searches for happiness but not everyone finds
It.
The world is so busy and always bustling but people
Never stop to take a break. I want to sit by idly and relax,
Yet I find myself unable to. I’m dragged down by work and stress,
Constant worry about what’s to come and what’s to do.
I do relax,
I force myself to push the endless to-do list aside.
After pushing myself for five days, dusk till dawn and dawn till dusk,
I finally collapse for those two days of freedom.
But, like a bullet train, this freedom is gone in the blink of an eye,
Forcing me to return to the endless monotony of the weekly work.
And, just as soon as it began, the rushed week ends.
Time marches on, uncaring to my silent protest,
Forcing me to march along in rhythm.
Eventually, I grow tired of the monotony, years, decades,
Gone to feed this endless work.
Finally, I hang up this worn coat once and for all.
My family is finally no longer frustrated with my neglections
To them. I can enjoy their company and they mine.
These last three decades allow me to be truly happy.
Even when the Reaper takes residence here, I am happy,
Still distraught at the loss of her, but happy nonetheless.
In time, the Reaper comes to lay beside me,
Ready to take me home. I am happy.
Like a slave, I can finally throw off the heavy yoke of life, finally free forever from everything.
Everyone searches for happiness but not everyone finds
It.
The Stadium
Lights illuminate the large, lavish coliseum.
I gaze out into the arena, scanning the 25,000 faces,
Hearing the 25,000 voices natter and negotiate on and on in
Between the speakers and singers and inspiring success stories.
Every tale tears at my emotions, saving me and laying
Me low as I look above to listen to my Lord as counseled
By the conference leaders. Every word impacts me and changes
Me. I came not knowing what this stadium would hold,
Only to uncover unexpected answers.
The crowd chants, gesticulating and talking to each other,
Confined and contained amongst the corners of the coliseum.
Countless hands clap and mine own join the crescendo of care.
Cries of joy and thanks deafen those present.
Cheering during the concerts surpass the previous calls.
My voice is just one of many that echo through the halls.
The concrete supports and supervises all present.
The bright lights brighten the stands.
This stadium stands to protect and shelter all present.
The hush of voices fall upon the herd as heroes speak their stories.
I am a part of the multitude of faithful present.
This stadium isn’t special in itself, none are. No, this stadium is
Special because of the life changing event taking place at this venue.
The seats aren’t special, they are just normal seats.
The lights aren’t special, they are just normal lights.
The speakers are special, they are not just normal people.
The audience is attentive, despite running on five hours of sleep.
They clap and cheer after every speech, forming a connection with this
Stranger. Yet, the speakers aren’t strangers. No one is a stranger. Here, in this stadium,
Everyone is a family, a community, a world, a neighborhood, a home.
In this stadium, differences do not matter, everyone is equal in the eyes of each other.
This stadium is a part of my history and I am a part of the stadium’s history.
The Politician
An old man wanted to become the next
And most powerful mayor, but one text
Led to his downfall in the election.
He claimed it was unnatural selection
To office, how could he have ever lost?
He was brilliant but his rival was just
A normal and uneducated man
That never, never should have ever ran.
His opponent was racist and hateful,
Or so he always claimed, yet he was dull
And distant from the people. He wanted
Their money to pay for when he jaunted.
He did not care about change or reform,
He was a raging hypocrite when warm
Or when someone disagreed with him and
His contradictory beliefs, all sand.
He did not fulfill a single promise
He ever made, he’s a doubting Thomas.
But he plastered his posters on his wall
At his office due to his faulty gall.
The man was loved in politics by his
Friends and despised by his enemies, tis
But a part of the job. The old man loved
To argue despite being old and shoved
From all directions to step down because
He was old and out of touch, like bad laws,
But he craved power and money to feed
His voracious and all-consuming greed.
He always got what he wanted, tis the
Power of the purse speaks loudly, uh-huh.
The Tree
Beneath the tree, where long ago I played,
Lies little things left behind, so long ago,
Yet it feels like yesterday, that wooden fortress was mine.
I miss the days, all the ways I would play,
Under that giant of nature, a lure for my mind,
A way to get away, to take respite from stress,
I could be with nature, before the worries of life and school took hold.
Broad Scope Entertainment 