#recognition poems on Hello Poetry

Walter W Hoelbling May 2017

four decades of professional life
    considered with benevolence
(how else …?)
have altogether
not turned out so badly
even though no party politics
helped me climb the ladder
of not so easy scholarly achievement

often in the beginning I discovered
that my politeness was mistaken
for simplicity

and so I had to learn a bit about
   how I could stand my ground
to kick the shins of those who thought
    they could step on my toes with cool impunity

until they noticed that they were mistaken

over the years I found my ways to garner
    not everybody’s love
    but their respect and recognition

which is what we all mostly need

     eventually

Just reminiscing

#profession #politeness #love #respeczt #recognition

Marilyn Sistinas Dec 2016

Leaves

They sit until stirred through the air by stomping feet,
their beauty left behind in an abundance of forgotten fate,
dirtied by the bottoms of soles whom drift with paltry paths.
Have they any recognition for their once grandeur existance,
or the visually vibrant ambiance they had to relinquish?
They go disregarded by many whom hold the same discouraging weight,
their fractured features left by the taughting aura of the feet,
mistaken for nothing but miniscule fragments of the world.
People try to propogate some sort of prominent impact,
and end up forgetting that everyone leaves.

#fall #recognition #forgotten #leaves #pun

William A Poppen Jun 2016

Pages Unread/Pages Unwritten

Aging arms
splotched with purple and red
signs of tangling
with jagged dead branches
reach for a copy
of Ted Kooser's *
Flying at Night
.
Pages flip
for a stop here and there
to read _Sunset,
Carp and _Spring Plowing

Envy swells inside him
with the realization
that he will never
write such fine poems
about memories
of childhood adventures

Like Kooser
he was reared
living rural
among tiger lilies
blooming in meadows,
amid newborn calves
teetering toward first steps,
and around
freshly spread manure
capturing the scent of fall air

His fingers still grimy
from early morning planting
place the volume
carefully beside
his empty coffee cup
content that he is blessed
to have discovered Kooser's work

He rises to tackle
digging potholes
for double begonias
to decorate his yard
and to dream
his dream
of pages unread.
and pages unwritten.

*http://tedkooser.net/, Ted Kooser, The United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004 - 2006

#of #recognition #ambition #resignation #limitations

Harsh Mar 2016

I want to be...just a girl

I don't want to be your
Friday night girl,
one night stand,
end of a busy week's treat,
or pastime.

I definitely don't want to be your
fetish,
score,
drunk companion,
or ****** relief.

If I'm being perfectly honest (to myself),
I'm rather confident,
I don't want to be anything of yours at all...

This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 16/03/2016]

#love #lust #labels #recognition

Breanna Stockham Mar 2016

Fly On

Butterflies
Don’t float around
Saying “Look at me!”
Or hope to be found.
They don’t ask for attention
Or to be admired
They won’t seek recognition
Or beg for your desire.

Their patterns stand out
Their colors shine bright
And without even trying
Their wings catch our eyes.
But it doesn’t matter
If we’re here or gone
Or if their beauty is noticed,
They’ll fly on.

I won’t ask
Won’t beg, won’t seek
Anyone to
Admire me.
My colors will shine
Even if they’re not awed
So despite recognition
I’ll fly on.

#recognition #trying #ask #fly #admire #attention #notice #beg #stand #seek

solEmn oaSis Jan 2016

" suggest an edit " ( a coffee-face )

Hello fellow poets and artist Finding this site made me smile. I look forward to reading everyone's poems and art.

"Let tomorrow sleep and peacefulness will turn to you. Free yourself and go with your razor sharp emotions. Even the twisted flow is the proof that you're alive. I invite the tearfully-indulging sorrow."

Dreamer..made the best of being a misfit...I have a close bond with Emily Dickinson.. she speaks the most to me.. I'm an Aquarian.. I help people much as i can..

Sea salt and tentacle love letters scatter into my aromatic wind like snowfall in the Arctic. Prevalent. Soft, sweet layers of flowery smoke linger in my midnight lungs. Dark secrets revealed here. Passions unleashed.

To me the world is made of poetry spoken and unspoken

I apologize here and now for butchering your lovely language. Not my first

Doesn't Make Any Sense. Trying Hard To Be A Poet.

Under construction.
Don't stay too long, it's dark in here.
I'm not a good conversationalist, but feel free to message me still.

my mystery rhyme has still seeking for its own rhythm and blues!
,'til my sweet serenity haul me unto a strange melodies and clues.
(to be continued...)

#recognition #gratitude #acknowledgement #indulgence #regards #owes

Kate Lion Nov 2015

7.

but what of the men
who work hard
sacrifice
keep their hearts pure?

the age has passed where one would think to honor them

the only recognition comes

in being a working woman
or a man who believes he is a woman
or the man who has feelings for another man

but what of the every day men
who also do extraordinary things?

This is just to note my observation of how the role of average men who do not claim to be either homosexual or women has been minimized in our society. Everyone's contribution is important.

#world #recognition #feminism #men #opinions #views #extraordinary #homosexual #privelege

Oscar Mann Oct 2015

The poet and the Public

How I’d like to be a man of the people
To write poems that widely spread
To have the public sit up and notice
And nod to every little thing
That I, ever so poetically, care to share

My poems would be talk of the town
In fame and fortune I would bathe
And the public would subtly bow as I walk by
Wondering how I ever so clever
Show what the show’s all about

I would gracefully describe human nature
In a way that everyone would get
I’d share my universal wisdom
The essence of this life
And offer the promise of bliss

There would be nothing I would withhold
From the public I hold so dear
I’d help them cope with love and lust
With pain and loss and death
And all that’s bright and beautiful

But alas, I am no man of the people
And my limits are ever so clear
I myself am an isolated poet
And I fear it’s true what I hear:
That they don’t have a way with poetry, anyway

#poetry #poet #art #recognition #fame #fortune #public #audience