Younger wanting to be older
Older wanting to be young
Child wishing to be bigger
Bigger wishing to be thinner
Teen wanting a clearer face
Clearer face wanting a better body
People lamenting bad hair days
Bad hair days replaced with no hair days. . .
We diss what we have
Wish for what we lack
When what we have is gone
Oh, what we'd give to have it back!
Youthful desires for future yearning
Future bearing down like a train
Elders' memories of past unnerving
Hit by a train never the same
Mark Toney © 2020
10/6/2020 - Poetry form: Free Verse - Seems like we're never satisfied. If you're an adolescent you want to be an adult. If you're older you want to be younger. And on and on and on. Why can't we just be content and enjoy what we have at any given time? - Mark Toney © 2020
The ache inside of me
Groans like desert for rain
like the waves for the shore
Like stars for the rest of morning
And it sounds so beautiful
An agonizing masterpiece
But it still aches
If you must tell a lie, do so well -
Lies likely fall apart
Often crumbling due to bumbling
A speakers deadly demise
My passion is the lonely lie
Lone creates shine
A lie must deliver cleverly
Or all would align -
A poetic imitation of Emily Dickinson's "Tell all the truth but tell it slant" I did for my poetry class.
you are as pretty as a star,
just like that celestial body,
you’re also a million miles away.
As the fine flower life does fade
As the grass in the field life does yield
As the moon in the sky life dose pass us by
As the trees do grow life does go
As the leaves do fall the end of life does call
As I write this poem I wonder if you will ponder?
Like how the soil wishes for rainfall during summer;
I miss you.
Like the trees wishing for sunshine during winter;
I miss you.
What else is there to say? I'm just so into you.
Poets constantly compare
saying “this” is like “that”
If there’s anything I learned from comparison
It’s how it can **** you slowly as a poison of expectancy.
So, to put it simply,
You are not like anything else.
There is no comparison to you,
Because you are you and nothing else I could ever describe can come close to you.
I dunno I’m on my way to a forensics meet and I’m in the poetry category. Hope it goes well
I don't call people 'temporary'.
I prefer to call them guests.
Guests are people who come into your house
But don't make it their home.
You can try to persuade them to.
You can even try and beg them to.
But they prefer their own place,
they're not particularly fond of your decor.
Trust is a ship without sails,
One may try to row it away,
But it will never float far,
The only way to make the sails,
Is to take one’s quilt, one’s warmth,
However when a storm arrives,
It shall tip the boat, sinking it,
Now one has nothing, not a quilt,
Not warmth, just a salty taste,
Drowning, saying never again.
This was an ELA project.