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Cadmus May 16
Are you man enough
To walk the path carved in your marrow?
To let instinct speak?
Can you listen to the wild in your chest
not tame it, but understand it?

Are you man enough
to protect without owning,
to fight without hatred,
to cry without retreat,
to bleed and still rise
not as a martyr,
but as a force of nature returning to form?

You are not a flaw in evolution.
You are its edge,
its hammer,
its echo through time.

Stand tall,
not in defiance of the world,
but in allegiance to what made you.
Nature never doubted you.
Why should you?
This poem is a call to return to the essence of manhood , not the caricature shaped by culture, but the primal design etched by nature: protector, builder, thinker, and storm-bearer. It glorifies masculinity not as *******, but as deeply rooted presence and purpose.
I sleep knowing,
      I’m always close to the edge of death
I believe in the air,
      never thinking much to count a breath

I sit comfortably in public,
      not knowing the age of the chair
I accept a leader’s change,
      never questioning if it’s actually fair

I ride passenger,
      never wondering if the driver feels suicidal
I say amen as a crowd,
      not knowing if the people even believe in the Bible

I lie, I cry, I love, I hate, I forgive, I resent,
     I live to treat, but sometimes I need one’s care

But as a man,
     I cannot cheat on my barber, when it comes to my hair.
Shawn M Pilgrim Aug 2024
The sacrifices of boys and men
Their own devices of joys and sin
The costly prices of ploys to win
The lonely crisis that destroys within
Jeremy Betts Jun 2024
Feeling like half the man I used to be
I look to the sky desperately
Noticing something I don't usually see
The moon keeping the sun company
But the visual hit a little differently
Like I unknowingly unlocked some mystic mystery
Probably due to the particular mindset I'm in currently
But looking back at me was a half moon in all it's majesty
And I thought about it's cycle, it's personal journey
From full to empty then back again for all of eternity
Then my thoughts drift back to me,
Back to that feeling of illegitimacy
And this new found possibility
Based on the moon cycle imagery
Could it be something I could copy?
I guess I'll have to wait and see
But a sliver of hope, like the sliver of a crescent moon, may be all I need...maybe
Maybe I too could be whole again if I just move forward patiently

©2024
Don Bouchard Feb 2022
Burns Creek
Climbing Chimney Rock.
Dad and David Scoville
In their mid 30s,
Two men out to prove
Their bravery,
Their derring-do.

Nervous,
My Mother,
My brother and I,
Five and six,
Necks craning,
Wait and watch;
Dad moves up and up
Clings to the top.

Inept and six,
I stand below,
Admiring my Father's
Fearlessness.

I am nearly blind,
The myopic, thick-lensed gawker,
Peering upward.

The men climb down,
Victorious,
The day’s challenges
Vanquished.

Heading home,
Choking dust.
Old land,
Deep ravines,
Rattle snake domain.

My father's old Ford
Bumps over red scoria,
Billows burning dust.

Ancient land,
Cindered clay,
Open grazing land,
Dry and hot.

Memories churn
From sixty years ago.
G Valentine Jan 2022
What does it mean to be a man?

A hush quiets the room.

Seriously, what does it mean? I asked.

Because I've searched online forums and the trolls don't have much right to say,

I'd ask my father as if he would know himself,

I look at celebrities, friends, strangers, and yet I still wonder....

What does it mean to be a man?

Heaven help me because role models are hard to find. If God created sinners he must have made men with a special idea in mind.

Why do I desire something that is so hard to understand?

So tell me, what does it really mean to be a man?
Heidi Johanna Nov 2020
What kind of a father
Would you be to my child
Would you hold them
To your chest
When they’re crying
Would you kiss them goodnight

Would you be patiently caring
Bringing strength to our lives
Simply asking these questions
To know what you’re like
Would you be a good father
The worth-choosing kind
Caleb Smith Oct 2020
I busted open the door,
breathed in the **** smell
Floored by the busted bottles,
used to beat females
Beneath me, was a body,
her bust exposed as she lied on the floor
The liquor must of licked her, it missed her in her misery
How’d she get mixed with pimps, and unsavory misters?
Money.
Funny,
Dead presidents solve most mysteries
I see north of me, broken pictures and light fixtures
They say demons do their deeds in the darkness,
These ****** damages defile as they fill in, this apartment
The AC, broke, like empty pockets,
The place equivalent to an icebox
The ice on my wrist
at home in one way
But cool things will get you shot,
You can’t strut on these runways
I take some steps, I hear the wood scream
Similar to when he laid her down in the sheets
I find *** and a *** of crack cookin on the stovetop
The trash has McDonald’s wrappers, his diet a disaster
Bras of five different women on the floor
Probably people purchased at clubs, to do his ***** chores
I can see his finances are a mess, but his spirit is what’s poor
Pores are sweatin, as I hear the walls of my past confessing
THIS IS HOME
This is where I was raised, actually no, where I was brought down
Baby mamas in rotation like my favorite mixtapes
My mind like what a place, ain’t no way I’m a stay
He had his life all backwards, and I could never set him straight?
I walked into Man’s Hood, I’m just glad I escaped
But the women still abused, and the drugs he uses
God, I’m 20 years old, this a lot on my plate
I feel called to fix it, maybe that’s why I’m back
I came for my bags, but the baggage attacks
I hear a cry, a child breaks out in a whimper
A skinny lil boy, probably missed too many dinners
A son of another woman but my brother the same
How can I make change if I run away
THIS IS HOME
I wipe his tears, tell him, it’ll be okay
I stayed for that night.
The future an unknown
Kimbowa Ali Oct 2020
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