#training
To the pitcher who came from Duluth
The coach said. Son it's a hard the ruth
Your curve ball is shot
Your heaters not hot
Son, you'd be better off up in the booth
The pitcher said he wouldn't go
I've spent 15 years up in the show
The coach said my son
Your arm is just done
Don't argue. The answer's still no
The pitcher said trade me away
I know deep inside I can play
Son, we've shopped you around
No new team can be found
Accept it. Your last day's today
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 3:11 PM UTC
Dripping Down With a Heavy Heart,
My soul falls apart.
In just glance of Days,
Came across multiple rays..
The Monotonous lifestyle,
Witnessed a vigorous mile!
Exhausted I was at the end of the Day,
Began each morning in a Unique Way.
The Energies i found around me,
Made me Learn what is the Power of We!!
Enlightened i Was with each Session,
Guidance they provide like compass in ocean.
The Fortnight spent with Knowledge and Humour,
Enjoyed and Achieved every bit in proper!
©️ Biswarupa Purkayastha.
Jan 13
Jan 13, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
We spill our words like blood into cups of light,
pulling them from places we don’t name aloud.
Each line costs something, our sleep, memory, breath and pain ! Hopes dreams and things we find happy and beautiful,
and once written, it looks easy to take.
It’s a miracle strangers come to read us,
pause in their lives to stand inside our storms, feel us for a minute and exhale.
But wonder is not permission.
Attention is not ownership.
Flattery is not consent.
Out here, silence learns to copy.
Songs are born from poems without asking.
Machines are fed what we leave unguarded,
Ai trained on voices they never paid to hear.
Copyright is not our ego.
It is a boundary drawn in ink.
A way of saying: this came from me,
and that matters.
A single disclaimer can be a shield
one line that blankets every page,
stops names being changed,
stops claims being made by hands that never wrote, never bled or walked the poets path of pressure, endurance, thought, and emotional weight,
Protect what you pour.
Not because you fear you work being read, or abducted.
but because your words are alive,
and living things deserve to be defended, they are part of whom you are.
Here is a legally binding blanket Copyright to either put on your profile or poems.
© # Poets Name. All poems here are original and copyrighted. No reproduction, adaptation, musical use, AI training (including Suno), or derivative use without written consent.
In the end it's Mind over Matter - if you don't mind it doesn't matter, as for me! My words are my voice and I don't want my words distributed and used free.
*** If you agree please repost this our works are precious and they not to be used without proper written consent!***
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 8:56 PM UTC
I can't keep up with
him, he walks fast, his body --
is made for crutches.
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 4:11 AM UTC
Wisdom hasn't erred
Save for men that failed
Train lest they stray
Afar from the way
But who'll firmly say
What way holds sway?
In fashion as he that is idle
Must rejoice with the little
In vain you will blame
When indeed you fail to train
Don't the child face the cain
Alike, in sun and in rain?
Age should speak
But men now weak
While still not at the peak
Of the wisdom they seek
Who then will firmly say
What way holds sway?
El Nirvana
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 1:17 PM UTC
He was on a training mission down south,
There, his landlady told him to get married.
He hesitantly agreed to flash a matrimonial,
He anyway did so in a local newspaper.
She responded to his call in the newspaper,
She was attracted by his description.
They got married in a minimalist manner,
Saving money for a combined future.
The first demand she had surprised him,
She asked him to maintain a moustache.
With time, when he grew that mouser,
She was impressed with his manliness,
"I've seen denser moustaches,
None looks as elegant as yours."
Then they went to his home in North,
For the honeymoon, they went to Kashmir.
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 12:44 PM UTC
This mangled heart of mine
I've had to start retraining
Teaching it to feel once more
Encouraging it to love
Without replacing the core
Stop keeping score
Don't forget player one
That character
Looking back from the mirror
No need to fear the next beat
More than the one before
Reassuring we'll find the shore
We still have one oar
Emphasizing no two moments are identical
Learn from the past,
Accept what's in-store
Hurt stops at nothing
But look how far you've made it while sore
Battles have been lost
But make sure
To stand tall amidst the war
Don't be your own saboteur
©2024
Sep 14, 2024
Sep 14, 2024 at 1:05 PM UTC
How did I walk 37 miles in 19 hours?
How did I bike 90 miles in 11 hours?
...
Inhale in nose, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in nose, exhale in mouth 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in mouth 4x
And repeat.
You just need enough food and water and a pair of soft and hard soled shoes.
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 2:21 AM UTC
he said, “stop apologizing.”
it’s a bad habit of mine.
I apologize even when
I know I’m not at fault.
he said, “stop apologizing.”
I didn’t even realize I was.
it’s an automatic response that
I’ve been programmed to use.
he said, “stop apologizing.”
I tried to notice when it happened,
but it’s not an easy habit
to unlearn after years of training.
he said, “seriously, stop apologizing.”
I said “I’m sorry.”
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 10:19 AM UTC
Timothy Tolliver Tines
Taught tax topics twenty times
Touting tax tips he tried
Till terribly tongue-tied
Twisted tongue tending to twine
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 10:49 AM UTC
Something has changed in me this week
Small and cynical but not so meek
A voice I once knew and thought was engrained
Turned out was a student that’s now fully trained
She no longer whispers her judgments and lies
While she sits at her desk now she actually tries
To get to know who I am instead of rejecting
And brushing me off with her constant correcting
Now I get to embrace the feeling of free
From hearing a voice that is finally me
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 9:16 PM UTC
Don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
What if the buildings are
Damaged dangerously?
What if all the walls
Are full of cracks
Things can be easily controlled
And you have enough money
So don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
Use your money with caution
Apply your mind, use your money
Get all the walls painted
With very nice painting
Paintings of the folks
Paintings of the modern era
Paintings of saints and heroes
Painting of beautiful landscapes
Raise slogans here and there
Unfurl flags and sing the anthem
What if the rivers are di*ty?
Only raise awareness campaigns
Put hoardings and banners everywhere
Do nothing else, but show everything
Just adopt these cheap tactics
You can save lot of wealth
And can spent on yourself
Or can buy more votes with it
Paint the bark of all the trees
Break all the records of shame
Create a new fake history
Make silly new records
What if there is poverty
Just make monuments for god
And ask people to pray there
God is there to listen the prayer
What if there is unemployment
Ask your businessmen friends
To start training centres and train the youth
And make money, money and money
Leave the trained youth as they were
Ask them to create employment for self
Call it self-employment, call it freedom
Ask them to rejoice this freedom
Open new schools and colleges
But don't appoint staff in teachers
Collect hefty amount of fees
Spent that fees on yourself
Also spent some to collect votes
Manage the peoples
Manage the machines
Manage history, manage geography
Manage the media, manage the news
Spread everywhere, fake news
If you do, what I have said
You will be the king again
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
The Ninth Battalion (Australia)
By Sun-filled day and frosty night,
O’er rugged hills and desert sand,
We learned to work as teams, to fight
In jungles of another land.
From every city, State and town,
All the lovely countryside,
Impelled by grim war’s cold, bleak frown,
Gathered we at fair Woodside.
And some of us were volunteers,
But mostly we young conscripts were,
With youthful hopes, ambitions, fears;
Young men’s dreams of love were there.
And lusts, for we weren’t choir boys,
Nor simpering wowser, nor old maid.
We searched for brawling, drinking joys
And chased the girls of Adelaide.
Oh Adelaide, what wondrous pubs,
The Rundle, Gresham (Mind you Roy?),
The Western, Finden, all were hubs
Of social, sinful, youthful joy.
But scarce the city trips sublime.
Beneath the awesome stars our home.
And Sun-bronzed we became with time,
Leigh Creek, Cultana, ours to roam.
At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.
Canungra’s forest, where chilled to bone
We learned to ambush and by sudden flare to ****
The Flinders Range, those hills of stone.
Shoalwater Bay did prove our skill.
And at the last and having passed our nation’s test,
(for some a final accolade)
And to that question answered yes,
We made farewell to Adelaide.
At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 2:51 AM UTC
The Royal Military College
and a definition of Leadership
When I was posted to Duntroon
As C.S.M of 'weeds and seeds',
Its grounds I'd walk each afternoon,
Reflecting on my task, it's needs.
Diverse, the soldiers working here;
Musicians, cooks, the stewards and, it's queer
That from my office window to the square,
Listening to the distant band rehearse, I'm so aware
Of differences. My 'Weeds and Seeds' has lot's of them:
The C.Q.M.S., has just one foot, the other taken by a mine.
The sergeant clerk one leg, one eye and D.C.M.
Drivers without licences; all these are mine.
As well - a different lot, there is Ground Maintenance. This, a platoon
Of Infantry, sick and lame, and drivers banned from driving.
And these, the dispossessed, so take my time that soon
The day has insufficient hours and I'm obsessed, and striving
To resolve what seems to me to be a sorry mess
Left by my predecessor and his Signals boss.
All this compounded by a soldier girl, a pretty stewardess,
Attracting cadets like children round the candy floss.
Doing extra training in the Company Orderly room, that girl.
Stripping back the Lino covered floor and laying polish.
And like the Lino was her weekend stripped of any social whirl
By my reluctance to charge her or to admonish.
This extra training, it was how I thought to exercise my will
On soldiers, disparate, without cohesiveness from within;
Without a unit. And besides, whoever would I find to give close order drill
If all I did was march the guilty ******** in?
Thus it was this day, a balmy, sunny, Sunday afternoon;
The sort of day on which the very soul rejoices;
That after having supped my beer in Sergeants' Mess, Duntroon,
And walking past my office going home, do I hear muffled, unexpected voices.
'Hello, hello. What is all this? What is going on in there'?
Mumbling, giggling, that's the sound I hear of busy industry?
Intrigued, I look to see my victim perched high on wooden chair
Placed on a table, while on their knees her busy, working coterie,
Cadets, bums up, heads down, nosing round the Orderly Room,
Bucket, mop, and squeegee poised behind the flourished, sweeper's broom.
'Oh look at me' I hear them cry - that universal lovers' call.
But their target, when she smiles, she smiles at them one and all.
While to my floor they give their all, a super, waxen, polished gleam.
Because of promises implied and sweetness smiling, seated there.
Of leadership still they've much to learn, t'would seem.
And what better teacher than the pretty girl perched on that chair.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC
I keep saying,
"This would be so much
more bearable if..."
But maybe
it isn't supposed to be
more bearable.
Maybe I'll train
and find new ways
of bearing the load.
Maybe I'll feel
that much lighter and stronger
when the load is lifted.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
Baby, you're a lady.
you're meant to be dainty,
swimming in seas of purity.
Baby, be a lady
Perfect, trim & proper.
Baby, what's a lady?
no really, what's a lady?
Consumed by rivers of lust and sultry.
Baby, i'm not your "baby"
but let me tell you i'm **** well perfect.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 6:03 AM UTC
So much work and determination for that moment.
Weeks of training, to predict all the opponent's moves.
Tears of frustration, blisters and bruises all over your body.
Looking at others enjoying food you're not allowed to touch.
Running, with a burning feeling in your chest.
All for that moment, those 4 minutes that can change everything.
Judges lined up, blue and red flags in their hands.
The fear of them not raising your color in the end.
The surrounding sounds go away.
Fighting gear on, nodding to you coach's distant words.
The sweat starts running under your helmet, heart's racing fast, the adrenaline kicks in.
The sign is given, it's time.
The mat feels bigger than it looks.
With shaky legs you walk out, to bow for your opponent.
Facing each other, you'll never forget the eyes of your enemy.
The whistle blows, the moment has arrived. It's time to put the weeks of training into action.
One final deep breath.
Fight. Fight for the time you've sacrificed.
Fight with all your might, to earn that medal around your neck.
Cause in that moment it's worth everything.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
Hell shimmies when I am blunted ;
When I take a knock to the senses
When I am skinless,
singing stings
and misdirected by pain
If I had trained better
I'd be deep sea
Sussing distant messages
Operating with slight tremors, vocals and movement
and only when correct...
I'd be home
I'd be instrument
Not an act
Not a pet to society
No mood fool ;
flaked,
flooded
and littered
Rapped at by experiences
Attack reacting
An embarrassment
Watching my own pattern spooling
the same sums
and spoiling with repetition
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Children of these days
They're in big dismay
Their attitude, degrade
Their lifestyle is fake
Their value in my eye seems depreciate
They're such a big disgrace
*
Children of these days
Can't walk without dancing
Just a slight rhythm; and they'll start bouncing
Devilish music; devilish words gat more liking
*
Children of these days
Their behaviour makes me sad
They would even say 'Hi' to their dad
That's really bad
An act of being Retard
*
Children of these days
They're so decietful
They won't even greet you
*
Children of these days
are so mono
They're less gospel and more solo
Surfing the internet; looking for free *****
Man; this logo you have is real loco
*
Children of these days
Their ways are odds
And they spit missiles of words
They don't want to stain their boot with dirt
But they forgot they're firstly designed from mud
*
Children of these days have big mouth
They are too proud
They're much of meriment; they're too loud
*
Children of these days
Should watch out for hollow
They'll say "we are the leaders of tommorrow"
But they do not know
The path to success is narrow
*
Children of these; I pity
For they think they're pretty
But their style of life is filthy
*
Children of these days
They post pancaked face on facebook
And ask "How do my face look?"
Ma'am; "you're just a lame snook"
About to get trap in a fish-hook
*
Children of these days
Don't know their culture
Shoulder 's on; like vulture
That latitude that you walk-on; is not yours
these attitude of yours that you does nurture
Will torture and dis-configure your fine posture
*
Children of these days
Please take heed
Life is more than that; which you see
So, children of these days; please repent
Before you have a child; you know attitude do reflect
I am never gonna relent
So that my children; that day; won't be bent
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC