"ambition" poems
1. your precious smile,
that never failed to shine;
a heaven-sent beam,
that made my heart your realm.
2. your tenderness,
that gave me bliss;
how could someone be
like you, so dearly?
3. your good vibes,
that surpassed all tribes
in giving off the positivity
i need for my stubborn reality.
4. your talents,
that awakened everyone's hearts;
you are my significant inspiration,
you give life to my life's ambition.
5. your humility,
that's filled with sincerity.
while everyone else is toplofty,
you remained lowly.
not everyone as wonderful as you,
could show meekness too.
6. the happiness you shared,
at times when smiling is something
i never dared;
darling, it meant everything.
7. for your meaningful silence,
that gave me a better comprehension.
although your stillness was tense,
i knew in my heart it was never a rejection.
8. for your music,
that never halts to flourish.
music, your depiction of aesthetic;
through you, the melody will never tarnish.
9. for being your genuine self,
you gave me potency to do the same.
shamming is no longer something i'll play, for you taught me how to
end that witless game.
10. for bringing me daily sunshine,
for setting the moon & the stars aligned;
my everyday became better,
and i will treasure you forever.
there are way more reasons
on why i love you for real.
through the passing seasons
i could slowly & slowly reveal
and show you how i truly feel.
as time passes us by,
i would no longer hesitate
and keep my sentiments ensconced.
through the coming weeks, months and years,
as long as we have all the time
i would dauntlessly lay out to you
that the way i feel for you is true.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
Like the heavens and the skies
Like the deep seas so wide
When I am confident and true
When I have faith in you
Colour me blue, colour me blue
Like the royals of Great Britain
Like the noble in truth and ambition
In my wisdom, dignity and pride
In my mystery and grandeur so wise
Colour me purple, colour me purple
Like fire and blood
Like the intensity of a flood
In my strength and passion
In my desire, love and emotion
Colour me red, colour me red
Like the warmth of the tropics
Like the sun, my daily tonic
When I am determined and creative
When I am happy and attractive
Colour me orange, colour me orange
Like a smile so warm
Like joy even in a storm
When I am cheerful and happy
In my intellect, when I am savvy
Colour me yellow, colour me yellow
When I am all these and more
When I am despised or adored
With the colours of the rainbow
With the colours that make me glow
Colour me colours, colour me colours
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
Awakening will find me
through the daily mundane
faith's step in front of tiny step
for the sake of Christ's great name
Even David the brave did not set out
with a lofty ambition to see the giant slain
but walked forth instead with a servant's heart
obediently for his father, carrying cheese and grain
and as he went in faithfulness about this simple errand
God raised him up with sling and stone to champion His fame
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
Strange strings of thought.
Thoughts of loyalty and love,
thoughts of friendship and of ambition
and my condition;
thoughts of submission of subtraction and addition.
Unravel the secret of the continent,
oh how you are persistent.
The road uncoils and I uncoil down the pavement.
Off i go.
Twisted days of golden glow.
Off I go, into the black hole
of the road.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Never what you were,
my retina dulled your rays.
Optics adrift in poetry, prose,
charity shop sweaters.
I spoke of dreamed ambition.
You nodded, morose.
Eyes chasing space.
Never what you were.
Bookshelves, potted plants, a bicycle bell ringing.
Coffee steam clawing New Zealand winds.
This and more flickered in our hazed tethering,
only snuffed when the tap of illusion ran cold.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
Static, memories
Emanating, separating
The postcard- perfect
Still life speaks
From its storied past.
Invisible, to drift
Among
The florid aphorisms,
Ending in
Deleterious debris,
Aftermath of
The inevitable.
Empty room, echo hollow
Tabula rasa -
Carpet clean, quite candid in it's
Return to callow.
Consciousness athirst,
Absorbing phenomena
Effervesce, inquisitive
Ideas foment,
Sealed inside a question.
The what -
Against the narrow
Scarcity,
And fatigue of should.
A tender malleable
Youth,
Betrayed, under
An assumed decorum -
Residue of truth,
Flattened emotion
Privations of a self
Unheard;
Misplaced affirmation,
Buried pathologies
In architecture
Fear manifests symbolic.
Harboring apathy
The lunacy of pious
Pedigree,
Import contagion,
Fetters of benignity
Doubt and indecision
Into ******
Cognizance,
Fallow spirits
Seep fumes of decay,
Credulity bleeds a human stain.
Social edifice, inoculated
Heirs of neurosis;
Palpable, sensual pain
And transience, though
Tacit - remain,
Our haunted history,
The blind hyperbole,
Maudlin
Forbearance, this haven,
A portrait
Of immaculate condition,
Nurtured with precision
Under sterling pretense.
Provincial domicile -
House beautiful,
Savage irony -
Unseen treasure
Innocence unabridged,
Faces, tiny creations;
Compliant vessels
Wounded,
While modernism murmurs
Its promise.
Brave New World,
In a late model sedan,
Domestic ranch on a
Corner lot,
Suburban natives,
Silence means security.
The misunderstood
Speak louder -
Consumerism beneath
Unvarnished ambition,
Never could
Repair the brokenness within...
© 2011 & 2018 W. S. Warner
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
Lady Macbeth washed her hands
cleaner than Pontius Pilate
with a new improved, bio-enzyme
oxy-bursting, 99.9% germ-scouring
recommended by dermato-logists
scented with rose attar
oils from Arabia
and spermaceti soothing
unguents from long dead whales.
She’s going to the nail bar
for a manicure and application
of semi-permanent, diamond-
tipped, acrylic base-coated
in red blood enamel.
She’ll scratch
and etch rich tattoos
on her husband’s back
with every ****** he will shudder
with pain and delight
He’ll soon forget long, dark nights
bewitched by ghosts and ambition.
© M.L. Emmett
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
The Nets Hold Our Dreams Like Tangled Bugs,
And The Courts Gleam With Our Ambition,
Beads Of Sweat Form Perfectly On Our Raised Brows,
As We Play With The Attitude A Champion Needs,
We Are Dressed In Black And Blue,
Floor Burn Covering Our No Longer Smooth Skin,
Our Lips Bleeding From The Battle For The Ball,
The Sound Of Screaming Becomes White Noise,
As We Burrow Into The Gym Floor,
Just For One More Medal,
And As We Walk Away From The Courts,
With Our Arms Bruised And Torn,
Red And Raw,
We Smile At Our Dreams Still Lying,
In The Twisted Nets
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
Why do all colors have a description to them?
Red- For strength or anger
Yellow- For sunshine and happiness
Pink- For all girls
Blue- For the boys and for when you're sad
Black- For hate and fear
Purple- For luxury and ambition
Green- For nature and energy
We force people to be someone by giving them a label.
Should we do that to colors too?
Why should black be the evil one?
Why can't yellow be a way to express sadness?
Why is pink for girls?
Just why?
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
I'm part of the unemployed youth,
it's the truth,
a generation of dreamers with endless ambition,
all with one mission:
to strive for attention under constant tension.
Overprotected and neglected,
yet somehow connected,
attacked by the constant barrage of words,
we fly like birds,
we are truly free in our imagination.
No hope for a better tomorrow,
in love with sorrow,
nothing left to borrow.
Money comes at a high cost,
your youth...lost after slavery to the economy.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Ambitious bastions always tout
progressive plans when they're about
while within they hide and pout
from novel things that may prove out.
And while inventing goals to follow
their ancients habits hold them hollow
as in vain wary workers wallow
force fed lies and hooks to swallow.
They hunt for those who work past five,
that trudge to work, endure the drive
who will sacrifice their personal live
until ambition can't survive.
Yet if you strive, you're constant told
do not do more, do not be bold
just fill your seat, forever hold
your tongue until you're dead and cold.
To subsist we're forced to hide,
only in others can we confide,
all success pushed to the side
as managers act bona fide.
Since those of meager measure make
hope of meeting metrics fake
interloping leaders take
their toll until hard workers break.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.
This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.
Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?
But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.
Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.
Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.
No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting my need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.
You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.
You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.
I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
And in this courtroom
So filled with Four Nations
The Sun held her head up high,
Lighting the way for their tales and psalms:
I am the King of Spades.
Righteous ambition is my goal.
The bravery of the Spades is made known to others
Only through such matters.
Perseverance is our path to Victory
Endurance, our greatest desire.
We, the Spades, partner with Father Time
To belong as a mighty people
Forever more.
I am the Queen of Diamonds
The splendor and enjoyment of Life's beauty is my passion.
A Diamond's journey is a one of glorious awe
That no one can compare.
Loveliness surrounds this pretty people
And the Artist shall forever be pleased by them.
Our perception of artistry leaves most in awe
And this fact is forever the passion we strive for.
I am the Queen of Clovers
Survival is the sole lifestyle of the Clovers
In this wretched and unforgiving world
The Clovers must stay strong
Holding the clubs of the ancients,
We prevail
Onward shall we extend our power
The Clovers will remain
Forever the mightiest.
I am the King of Hearts.
The rapid spread of emotional ties
Is what us Hearts long for.
Threads of fate surround our people
Binding them to one another.
Love, lust, infatuation
Oh, these are the things that steady our nation!
So filled with Faith, Hope and Love
Our Hearts shan't fail us
As passion will never cease
To flow in our veins
—ah, yes!
This is the way of the Hearts.
And in this courtroom
So filled with Four Nations
The Sun laid down her head
Whilst the Moon finally awoke and,
Smiled his light onto them below.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
I am writing this just to keep sane
Stop switching lanes and deal with the pain
I’m going to stay same and never give in to shame
I don’t see this as a game, what I’m saying is real
That’s why you feel every line that I spill
Every emotion comes from the notion
That we are the panacea for the poison
Explosion of our hearts started with the sparks
That ignited our greed amidst the dark
So now we find ourselves led by the misled
Bred like a hoard of cattle waiting to be shred
We focus on materials and ignore the cries
‘Cause it’s easier to watch from an iPad, as a baby dies
We work, struggle, and beg for a promotion
Instead of pouring our hearts into a positive devotion
Every person fueled by their own ambition
And integrity is at loss on our way to this mission
By Vladislav Vagner
http://www.poemjunction.net
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
I walk with a straggle,
The chains become tighter with
Every step.
You see, this is my reason for
Giving up.
"You hold the key
to your own shackles"
I can set myself free,
With what ambition,
when my hands are tied?
What's the point of changing
When I've lied
For them to Believe I'm fine?
They say you can change,
They say it's possible to Believe
In something other than pain.
For this, I won't give up.
For this, I'll keep going
Until my hands don't reach
As low as my shackles hang.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
3/5/2014
Decisions,
Directions,
Conflicts,
Connections.
Who's to say I know best?
Everyday is just a test.
To move or to stay.
To breathe or decay.
To love or abate.
To rebel or obey.
To commit or to stray.
Every kiss begins with K,
but then you factor in fate.
I lead a life of ambition,
with no room for indecision.
But I just don't know what's next.
All I do is try my best.
I can't complain or compare,
The results would be unfair.
I have lots, and others little,
yet life, still gets fickle.
I have little family and fewer friends,
who stay until the end?
I'm not worried or sad.
I just wish that I had:
stayed,
prayed,
paid,
or given away.
You live and you learn.
You decide and get burned,
but thus is life.
Everything happens for a reason.
We'll see what happens next season.
Time.
Time to pick.
Time to choose.
Time to stick.
No time to lose.
Compare.
Contrast.
Pro vs Con.
"Decisions, decisions."
I knew all along.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
In age of old, in time that pass like tides,
When Prometheus lived and Lo! He strived,
As thirsting for Heaven, he climbed its hills, and trees,
Clenching at the Sun, its spark he seize.
The leaves, they warmed, turn bright and evergreen,
As Prometheus, he to fierce fire wean,
Swell lips sip lightning, of the nascent noon,
And divine heat from his hand duly shone,
To Roses, who sing, uprise and sweet rebel,
In bloom to conquer, vanquish concrete hell.
A wish for fire, fulfilled, angered Zeus,
He thought the fire be given, not to choose,
That excellence with fire, laurel his,
"A crime against the Gods Prometheus did."
For glory of the light from Heaven sent,
The hour of his favour now gone, spent.
Smite down the hero, tear ambition down,
Old Zeus, but young ambition wears your crown,
For daring, striving why not badge of God?
The Promethean vision all time hath applaud,
It art of upper world, belong in sky,
Praise Prometheus as fire goes roving by.
Mind gilded by the golden, whirling thread,
You seize from Heaven, through the Earth now spread,
Bringing hope to hearts, life to the dead,
As for forgiveness of the Gods you plead,
For an uncriminal act and sublime deed,
The arrogance of Zeus? Need not to feed.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
i sit with my legs uncrossing on the toilet seat, 7th period
smells of puberty
of wasted ambition and scathing regret of everything
of whispered secrets and sore thighs, ***** dripping out between your lips into the bowl
of tortured angst, of pulling your skin taut and drawing the blade against you over and over, for trusting someone like him
of hope that the next day will be better than today (it isn't)
of high school.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
Everyone is distracted by mundane, shallow things that they forget a bigger picture thats in all aspects of life.
**** you Clash of Clans and MTV.
But maybe I'm the shallow one because I put the blame on such a stupid topic.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
There goes my ******
Scarring all the good people away
There she goes...
Out of the skirt and into the pants
Given power
But still controlled
Given a job with no promote
There she goes being told
How she should speak and how she should not
How she must look and how she must not
There goes my ****** being forcefully entered
For years and years being circumcised and beaten
And there she goes...being blamed for it all
There goes my ****** being a *****
She has ambition and she has strength
She's got tough skin and all that it takes
But that's just short for...BITCH
And there she goes being stuck at the bottom
Looking up at the top
Trying to break through the glass ceiling
And into the powerful world of Johns
There goes my ****** demanding equal pay
But will the masculine listen to the words she'll say
Maybe one day
Maybe today
My ******
She'll never go away
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
All we really want is to make our mark
Getting caught up in the what and the how
We loose track of our ground, our feet
That have been in motion since breath
And there we’ve already begun
And left remains
Our desire for remembrance clouds
Our ability to pulse in the zone
We currently inhabit
Like animals we compete
To find the best of the best and the rest aren’t important?
The dew of the new is just as fresh as the old ones tale revived
on a cold night but
by the summer sun
I am scorched
By each,
equal
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 10:02 AM UTC
There are several ways to earn that loonie,
Or even that toonie,
Just got to look for the right opportunity,
And it is never easy,
But that is the harsh reality.
I know that sounds heavy,
But keep listening to me.
I have a drive that pulsates within me,
And it wants to set a vibe around me,
You see,
I want to make the life,
So I can spend it with a wife,
And buy her the right ring,
And pay my parents back their earnings,
So keep watching me,
Because I am going to make sure,
That barrier will shatter,
Into forgotten matter.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
There's a difference between looking and
seeing.
You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.
Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.
I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.
My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.
When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.
When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.
I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.
But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.*
When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.
I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
All the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying;
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time:
Survey our progress from our birth—
We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest breath and clearest eye
Like perfumes go out and die;
And consequently this is done
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain the ambition of kings
Who seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
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