Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
steve bab Sep 2014
Where are my stone cold optimist
Roll call all positive no hostages
I feed of the energy in my approximate vicinity
Then whole world will know an optimist  
Gather your belongings and meet me at the rocket ship
Yes truly I will be with the hostages taking roll call all positive
Sergent! no hostages are in
Thats work for an optimist
Blood and sweat my middle name
Thats an optimist riding a rocket ship
Our heart beats so hard numbing our veins
Thats a maddening fit
But you know how sweet victory is for an optimist
Take is easy simpleton optimist
Real optimist be like oh yeah smiling in there hearts
All positive not a negated positive deluded optimist

The End
Commuter Poet Dec 2015
Optimist
In the midst of chaos
You open up pathways
To a brighter future

Optimist
When all others depart
Looking for safety
Smiling, you set to work

Optimist
You are never defeated
You always continue
Braver than the fiercest enemy

Optimist
The words you speak
Are fresh and fragrant
Like the purest of roses

Optimist
Though some think you crazy
Sneer and call you dreamer
It’s you who change everything

Optimist
You stand alone
Inspiring fresh hope
You are the victor

Optimist
You believe the impossible
And then make it possible
Rousing brave hearts, to realise peace
Written 30th December 2015
Overwhelmed Mar 2011
I, the optimist,
am hopelessly in love
with thinking that the past
is not indicative of the
future

I, the optimist,
cannot dream of a future
where I am no more
and my children are no more
and we,
as a species,
are no
more

I, the optimist,
look into the future
and past grimly
but even as the grime
grows thicker over
the things already
happened
and even more so
over the things yet to
come
and
I, the optimist,
do not doubt that they
will work out for the best
in the very, very
end
Reuben Leivers Apr 2013
The Optimist

I wish that I could purchase
A paper of good news
Which didn’t love misfortune
Or laugh when people lose
Which didn’t sneak and pry
Or celebrate a lie
Or gossip, steal and scandal
Then revel while we cry

This new paper’s called The Optimist
And you don’t need to buy it
The first issue is free you see
So you will want to try it
‘What is all this?’ the people say
They look slightly bemused
The happiness inside has made them stop
And they’re confused

It’s been a long time since they paused
To think and look around
And see the joy and beauty
Just waiting to be found
Not in the shops or on the box
This joy is something new
Or old that they’d forgotten
But now recognise as true

They hardly dare believe
As they delve inside again
But the stories are all true
And nothing’s awful or profane

Two sisters reunited
After fifty years apart!
A boy who saved a stranger
And that is just the start

Of all the good that’s happened
And your heart’s about to burst
Because people can surprise you
When you don’t expect the worst
The hunger and the vanity
Are swiftly set aside
As something more important grows
Where bitterness resides

And The Optimist begins
So slowly, it’s effect
The hearts and minds of all begin
To thaw and to collect
The sun begins to shine
Like it never has before
And people start to wish and pray
For peace instead of war

And although this paper’s fiction
It may pay to recognise
The Optimist cannot exist
If we don’t open up our eyes
David Leger Aug 2014
You'll see me here again
At the end of the dock,
In the morning mist;

Waiting for soothing rain
As waves crash the rocks,
Yet I remain the Optimist;

For when I breathe a sigh of sorrow,
I trust my sun will shine tomorrow.
What is happiness without a little sorrow?
nabi 나비 Dec 2016
Hi, I'm Hannah
I'm a depressed optimist who likes to write
Confused?
Maybe, it'll make sense after I explain it
I have depression and often times I am sad
I get quiet, awkward, and guarded
But at the same time I am very optimistic
I always think that things will always get better
So I describe myself as a depressed optimist
I've never met anyone else like that
I don't believe there are too many people like me
And because of that I write
And I publish it to the world for anyone
Who needs someone like me
I may not make a big impact
But maybe I will inspire someone
Or make friends with someone
Anyone who needs someone who they can relate to
But who they can also go to while searching for optimism
So...Hi, I'm Hannah
And I'm a depressed optimist who likes to write
I want to help people.  And I think I can use writing to do that.  If anyone ever needs anything feel free to message me.  Anytime.  If I can help anyone or at least be there for someone I will have always dreamed to do.
They found a little courage
That simmered in the sun
They blended it with patience
And just a little spice of fun
They poured in hope and laughter
Then with a sudden twist
They stirred it all together
And made an **optimist
Who said I always had to be depressing?
Silence Oct 2016
As much as I would love to say that the world is full of good people and pretty plants that bloom every spring, I can’t. I cannot say that because I know it is not true. The brutally honest facts is that no one is perfectly good and sometimes flowers don’t grow from the stem of the plan they were born from and they remain dormant. The sun doesn’t shine brightly every day and birds don’t always sing. I am not saying that the world is a hell hole and we might as well give up on a life that is going to end in failure anyways. However, I am saying that there will be bad days. I would say that my mind is pessimist but my heart is one hell of an optimist. My brain tells me that life isn’t fair and everyone dies eventually, but my heart tells me to power on another day because I am an incredible human being with so many things to offer the world. If I was an optimist, I would never be honest to myself and would allow myself to lie and say everything is okay when it isn’t. if I was an optimist, I would walk through life being stabbed and never stop to heal the wounds. However, if I was a pessimist I would never be fully happy and eventually the negativity would drag me down to a place not even the biggest optimist could pull me out of. If I was a pessimist I would walk through life being stabbed and stopping to heal my wounds. I think life is easier as a pessimist. It allows you to never get hurt. You’re always thinking of the bad that could happen and you avoid it. So maybe, I’m scared of getting hurt. Therefore, I admit that I am a pessimist.
Aoife May 2016
you are an optimist
and you see the potential in everything
but please,
do not see my potential,
see me as i am now.
• an excerpt.
Anna May 2013
The number of letters or poems I write to you
Are insignificant.
You’ll never read them.
Never know of their existence.
Yet, for some unexplained reason
I still write them.
Maybe there’s a secret Optimist
Hidden deep within me
That’s still rooting for you.
Hoping that maybe at this moment
You actually are reading this.
That maybe this whole catastrophe
Was just a misunderstanding.
Maybe.
Maybe one day
You’ll look at me the same way you used to.
And maybe you’ll hold my hand again.
The gentle way your hand cradled mine.
Just maybe.
I wrote a song for you,
That some day you might hear it on the radio
As you drive down the dirt roads
In your light blue Mustang that I loved.
Finding it catchy, drumming your fingers
Along to it on the leather steering wheel.
Your head would bob in a rhythmic beat
And maybe, just maybe,
You’ll think of me.
Of what we had.
Of what could have been.
These are the dangerous thoughts of an Optimist.
Scrawled upon a piece of loose notebook paper
In the middle of class.
I hide this Optimist deep within the many layers of myself,
As She takes these thoughts with Her.
Maybe one day, She and those silly ideas
Will be consumed in the surrounding darkness.
It would be better off for Her anyways.
This world is not kind to Optimists.
Cathyy Oct 2015
I hope I live to see Ed Sheeran, and Taylor swift live, and spend new years in New York
I hope I make the perfect coffee for my future love and maybe even raise a puppy.
I hope my writing actually gets somewhere,
Than just spilled on a random page,
Of a giant internet database
I hope my little quotes and lyrics
Are sketched into teenage journals
I hope I meet my biggest supporter someday, and hang out with them in Disneyland.
I hope everything stops being crazy,
And everything starts becoming clearer
I hope everyday I am alive, I make positive impact.

I hope, I hope
That the Universe notices,
All the times I nearly broke..
Were all the times,
I began to grow.
So i wrote three really deep poems during the age of 17,

The child
The dreamer
The giver

... I feel this isn't really a poem, but a monologue. However, i hope* ;)
... It touches someone.

Please check me out on Youtube,
Just type in "JournalofMusic" and i'm there with like 14/15 videos now... If you help me out with views and stuff i'll always have a reason to keep on writing. :) x

Love ,
Cathy
Kenneth Farward Dec 2013
How does the competent optimist endure the positives opposite?
The prerogative to remain positive is the only option for an optimist.
Every day is a happy belated celebration of its creation.
Exposing pearly white incisors to express a bipolar condition.
A giant grin with lips spread open.
A face with a giggle in the face of sin to face demons.
The monster with in becomes, a polite ******* delight, a young baby boy eating joy, the excitement emitting the submission to a feeling of complete air under the soles of feet.
The feat of sky walking never lukewarm, a feeling newborn.
Yesterday was the best day ever you could have sworn.
However, today will be so much better the endeavor to find pleasure in everything and whatever.
Daylight 4U2C Dec 2014
Maybe I don't have a mind,
but at least I'm not crazy.

I fallen so many times,
so I'm so experienced.

I've been cheated and left behind;
I know my friends and enemies.

I hear the echos of memories;
they see how far I've come.
So I know I've come so far.

Don't have a lot of friends,
so music's number 1.

Would **** for solitude,
but then where is the fun.

Maybe it's complicated,
but that makes an adventure.

Sometimes the darkest times,
are ones we gladly venture.

Optimist living for a life we understand. We were never idiots; we have the upper-hand. Notice their all falling down the depths of agony, but we optimist live strong, proud, and free.
misty blue Mar 2011
my friend
she laughs at me
for believing
there is a prince amongst the frogs

she calls me the dreamer
she is the realist
black and white
i am the optimist
a rainbow

my friend
she laughs with me
our lives
have taken
different paths
yet
our lives have been the same

so what becomes of the optimist ?
or the realist ?
they keep looking
always searching

for in the end
it may only be
when they are dying
they finally realise
what they truly had

what we had
what we missed
what we lost.
tread Nov 2012
open pathways to a glaring pathos
the bright light of idealism is why the optimist is stronger than the pessimist
retreating into the no-eye-strain of a dark, frightening cave;
what was beyond the light?

the pessimist says the fear of the known is safer
while the optimist treads a sidewalk-highway-backstreet of light
ouch-
ouch-
ouuuuch, his eyes!

keep
going.

pushing through the grand theological cosmological philosophy zen
the optimist marches past the foot of the rancid infection
what self-inflicted pain for the sake of surrendering all responsibility;
the reason there are governments
countries
orthodoxies
is because of a grand laziness which clasps the wrists of the weary
fearful of their freedom as it is an unknown
grand cosmic
sun-star;
"stare any longer and I'll go blind;
march towards it and I will disintegrate."

"Are you sure?" asks the optimist
"No, but I won't take such a naive risk. I have been around long enough to cease trusting anything,
especially myself."

"Then you are eternally ******;
I seek my own grace."

there is a silence as the pessimist rounds to sigh
and the optimist wheels himself towards the stars.
Phil Lindsey Jun 2015
An opportunist takes spilled milk, adds sugar, makes ice cream.

An optimist believes it will all sell before it melts.

A pessimist complains that no one buys plain vanilla anymore.

A lot of us are still crying over spilled milk.
Sinex Oct 2014
A flame burns...

the optimist,
sees the light it makes,
and the heat it creates.

the Pessimist,
sees the oxygen it consumes,
and the wax turn to fumes.

which are you?

-Sx
Ian Cairns Nov 2013
I woke up this morning with a strange sensation
One in which I've never experienced before.
You see, I've been an optimist since the first day I can remember
So, you'd be surprised to hear that this morning I jumped out of bed half-heartedly
With nothing but a frown framed on my head.
My smile migrated to the part of town where thunderstorms organize chaos.
The slums that build up suspicion on dishonest interpretations
Like cardboard stepping stones laid across twin towers
Waiting for you to make one false move to your demise.
Making my quest to rid the world of adversity an uphill climb.
So on my way to foreign lands, I'll be keen to point out some observations
That my adversaries so effortlessly use against me
In an attempt to create a more balanced divide.

1. But you just drank out of that glass, it can't be half-full!
Well, sirs and madames, I do declare your awareness
Of my quenched thirst is rather scientific.
However- if you'd allow me a refill of your finest ale
I would appreciate your hospitality.
You see- I come from the mentality that everyone should drink until he or she covets.
Whether that be the midpoint of the glass or ten times over
My worries pay no mind to where the liquid lies.
I'm much more concerned that everyone tries as many beverages as desired upon.

2. You're far too idealistic. You don't live in the real world!
In fact- you are mistaken kind friends!
I do indeed live in the same world as you do
Creating mistakes in ways we all do.
However, unlike hardy drill sergeants
Who require unanimity in motion
I prefer to march to a different tune.
One where petty mishaps are embraced as they cross the finish line
As if the faulty foot prints left behind are our soul's signatures.

3. You are so happy. You must have all the answers!
Guess again my friends, that is the farthest from the truth.
Truthfully, my focus includes healthy doses of impartial reflections
So I can stay present on current intentions without foggy mental actions
Clouding my space with thoughts on nothing more than speculation.
Although my desire to reach Einstein's heights is ever-present
I understand the importance of staying mindful
Being incredibly comfortable erasing an impressive chalkboard
When it becomes too messy.

4. You are so nice, you must not hate anything!
Ah, wouldn't that be pleasing!
But, even I have negative feelings towards some things.
For instance, my hatred is provoked by negativity.
I hate the word hate and I hate that others resort to such awful actions so easily.
I understand that circumstances provide the opportunity for conflict to arise
But is it necessary for situations to instantly become awry?
I'm under the impression that hostility can be halted hastily
With honest consultations between any clashing parties.

5. You seem so content, do you ever have a bad day?
Uncommon to popular belief, my emotional responses do not always inflict joy into my veins.
It's funny because when using my strengths, sometimes I still trip on my weaknesses.
Sometimes I always lie sleepless on the wrong side of the bed.
Sometimes I always stay hopeless on the strong side of my head.
It's funny because I wouldn't want it any other way.
Sometimes the only thing we need is a reminder of the better days.
Because what's the meaning of life without the struggles we've gone through?
It's funny because my bad days are my best days too.
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Maybe I was born
to be a Debbie Downer
Maybe I was born
to sing the blues

But I think I'll be
a cockeyed optimist
for what have I got to lose?
Victor D López Dec 2018
Victor D. López (October 11, 2018)

You were born five years before the beginning of the Spanish civil war and
Lived in a modest two-story home in the lower street of Fontan, facing the ocean that
Gifted you its wealth and beauty but also robbed you of your beloved and noblest eldest
Brother, Juan, who was killed while working as a fisherman out to sea at the tender age of 19.

You were a little girl much prone to crying. The neighbors would make you cry just by saying,
"Chora, neniña, chora" [Cry little girl, cry] which instantly produced inconsolable wailing.
At the age of seven or eight you were blinded by an eye Infection. The village doctor
Saved your eyesight, but not before you missed a full year of school.

You never recovered from that lost time. Your impatience and the shame of feeling left behind prevented
You from making up for lost time. Your wounded pride, the shame of not knowing what your friends knew,
Your restlessness and your inability to hold your tongue when you were corrected by your teacher created
A perfect storm that inevitably tossed your diminutive boat towards the rocks.

When still a girl, you saw Franco with his escort leave his yacht in Fontan. With the innocence of a girl
Who would never learn to hold her tongue, you asked a neighbor who was also present, "Who is that Man?"
"The Generalissimo Francisco Franco," she answered and whispered “Say ‘Viva Franco’ when he Passes by.”
With the innocence of a little girl and the arrogance of an incorrigible old soul you screamed, pointing:

"That's the Generalissimo?" followed up loud laughter, "He looks like Tom Thumb!"
A member of his protective detail approached you, raising his machine gun with the apparent intention of
Hitting you with the stock. "Leave her alone!" Franco ordered. "She is just a child — the fault is not hers."
You told that story many times in my presence, always with a smile or laughing out loud.

I don't believe you ever appreciated the possible import of that "feat" of contempt for
Authority. Could that act of derision have played some small part in their later
Coming for your father and taking him prisoner, torturing him for months and eventually
Condemning him to be executed by firing squad in the Plaza de Maria Pita?

He escaped his fate with the help of a fascist officer who freed him as I’ve noted earlier.
Such was his reputation, the power of his ideas and the esteem even of friends who did not share his views.
Such was your innocence or your psychic blind spot that you never realized your possible contribution to
His destruction. Thank God you never connected the possible impact of your words on his downfall.

You adored your dad throughout your life with a passion of which he was most deserving.
He died shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War. A mother with ten mouths to feed
Needed help. You stepped up in response to her silent, urgent need. At the age of
Eleven you left school for the last time and began working full time.

Children could not legally work in Franco’s Spain. Nevertheless, a cousin who owned a cannery
Took pity on your situation and allowed you to work full-time in his fish cannery factory in Sada.
You earned the same salary as the adult, predominantly women workers and worked better
Than most of them with a dexterity and rapidity that served you well your entire life.

In your free time before work you carried water from the communal fountain to neighbors for a few cents.
You also made trips carrying water on your head for home and with a pail in each hand. This continued after
You began work in Cheche’s cannery. You rose long before sunrise to get the water for
Home and for the local fishermen before they left on their daily fishing trips for their personal water pails.

All of the money you earned went to your mom with great pride that a girl could provide more than the salary of a
Grown woman--at the mere cost of her childhood and education. You also washed clothes for some
Neighbors for a few cents more, with diapers for newborns always free just for the pleasure of being
Allowed to see, hold spend some time with the babies you so dearly loved you whole life through.
When you were old enough to go to the Sunday cinema and dances, you continued the
Same routine and added washing and ironed the Sunday clothes for the young fishermen
Who wanted to look their best for the weekly dances. The money from that third job was your own
To pay for weekly hairdos, the cinema and dance hall entry fee. The rest still went to your mom.

At 16 you wanted to go to emigrate to Buenos Aires to live with an aunt.
Your mom agreed to let you--provided you took your younger sister, Remedios, with you.
You reluctantly agreed. You found you also could not legally work in Buenos Aires as a minor.
So you convincingly lied about your age and got a job as a nurse’s aide at a clinic soon after your arrival.

You washed bedpans, made beds, scrubbed floors and did other similar assigned tasks
To earn enough money to pay the passage for your mom and two youngest brothers,
Sito (José) and Paco (Francisco). Later you got a job as a maid at a hotel in the resort town of
Mar del Plata whose owners loved your passion for taking care of their infant children.

You served as a maid and unpaid babysitter. Between your modest salary and
Tips as a maid you soon earned the rest of the funds needed for your mom’s and brothers’
Passage from Spain. You returned to Buenos Aires and found two rooms you could afford in an
Excellent neighborhood at an old boarding house near the Spanish Consulate in the center of the city.

Afterwards you got a job at a Ponds laboratory as a machine operator of packaging
Machines for Ponds’ beauty products. You made good money and helped to support your
Mom and brothers  while she continued working as hard as she always had in Spain,
No longer selling fish but cleaning a funeral home and washing clothing by hand.

When your brothers were old enough to work, they joined you in supporting your
Mom and getting her to retire from working outside the home.
You lived with your mom in the same home until you married dad years later,
And never lost the bad habit of stubbornly speaking your mind no matter the cost.

Your union tried to force you to register as a Peronista. Once burned twice cautious,
You refused, telling the syndicate you had not escaped one dictator to ally yourself with
Another. They threatened to fire you. When you would not yield, they threatened to
Repatriate you, your mom and brothers back to Spain.

I can’t print your reply here. They finally brought you to the general manager’s office
Demanding he fire you. You demanded a valid reason for their request.
The manager—doubtless at his own peril—refused, saying he had no better worker
Than you and that the union had no cause to demand your dismissal.

After several years of courtship, you and dad married. You had the world well in hand with
Well-paying jobs and strong savings that would allow you to live a very comfortable life.
You seemed incapable of having the children you so longed for. Three years of painful
Treatments allowed you to give me life and we lived three more years in a beautiful apartment.

I have memories from a very tender age and remember that apartment very well. But things changed
When you decided to go into businesses that soon became unsustainable in the runaway inflation and
Economic chaos of the Argentina of the early 1960’s. I remember only too well your extreme sacrifice
And dad’s during that time—A theme for another day, but not for today.

You were the hardest working person I’ve ever known. You were not afraid of any honest
Job no matter how challenging and your restlessness and competitive spirit always made you a
Stellar employee everywhere you worked no matter how hard or challenging the job.
Even at home you could not stand still unless there was someone with whom to chat awhile.

You were a truly great cook thanks in part to learning from the chef of the hotel where you had
Worked in Mar del Plata awhile—a fellow Spaniard of Basque descent who taught you many of his favorite
Dishes—Spanish and Italian specialties. You were always a terribly picky eater. But you
Loved to cook for family and friends—the more the merrier—and for special holidays.

Dad was also a terrific cook, but with a more limited repertoire. I learned to cook
With great joy from both of you at a young age. And, though neither my culinary skills nor
Any aspect of my life can match you or dad, I too am a decent cook and
Love to cook, especially for meals shared with loved ones.

You took great pleasure in introducing my friends to some of your favorite dishes such as
Cazuela de mariscos, paella marinera, caldo Gallego, stews, roasts, and your incomparable
Canelones, ñoquis, orejas, crepes, muñuelos, flan, and the rest of your long culinary repertoire.
In primary and middle school dad picked me up every day for lunch before going to work.

You and he worked the second shift and did not leave for work until around 2:00 p.m.
Many days, dad would bring a carload of classmates with me for lunch.
I remember as if it were yesterday the faces of my Jewish, Chinese, Japanese, German, Irish
And Italian friends when first introduced to octopus, Spanish tortilla, caldo Gallego, and flan.

The same was true during college and law school.  At times our home resembled an
U.N. General Assembly meeting—but always featuring food. You always treated my
Closest friends as if they were your children and a number of them to this day love
You as a second mother though they have not seen you for many years.

You had tremendous passion and affinity for being a mother (a great pity to have just one child).
It made you over-protective. You bought my clothes at an exclusive boutique. I became a
Living doll for someone denied such toys as a young girl. You would not let me out of your sight and
Kept me in a germ-free environment that eventually produced some negative health issues.

My pediatrician told you often “I want to see him with ***** finger nails and scraped knees.”
You dismissed the statement as a joke. You’d take me often to the park and to my
Favorite merry-go-round. But I had not one friend until I was seven or eight and then just one.
I did not have a real circle of friends until I was about 13 years old. Sad.

I was walking and talking up a storm in complete sentences when I was one year old.
You were concerned and took me to my pediatrician who laughed. He showed me a
Keychain and asked, “What is this Danny.” “Those are your car keys” I replied. After a longer
Evaluation he told my mom it was important to encourage and feed my curiosity.

According to you, I was unbearable (some things never change). I asked dad endless questions such as,
“Why is the sun hot? How far are the stars and what are they made of? Why
Can’t I see the reflection of a flashlight pointed at the sky at night? Why don’t airplanes
Have pontoons on top of the wheels so they can land on both water and land? Etc., etc., etc.

He would answer me patiently to the best of his ability and wait for the inevitable follow-ups.
I remember train and bus rides when very young sitting on his lap asking him a thousand Questions.
Unfortunately, when I asked you a question you could not answer, you more often than not made up an answer Rather than simply saying “I don’t know,” or “go ask dad” or even “go to hell you little monster!”

I drove you crazy. Whatever you were doing I wanted to learn to do, whether it was working on the
Sewing machine, knitting, cooking, ironing, or anything else that looked remotely interesting.
I can’t imagine your frustration. Yet you always found only joy in your little boy at all ages.
Such was your enormous love which surrounded me every day of my life and still does.

When you told me a story and I did not like the ending, such as with “Little Red Riding Hood,”
I demanded a better one and would cry interminably if I did not get it. Poor mom. What patience!
Reading or making up a story that little Danny did not approve of could be dangerous.
I remember one day in a movie theater watching the cartoons I loved (and still love).

Donald Duck came out from stage right eating a sandwich. Sitting between you and dad I asked you
For a sandwich. Rather than explaining that the sandwich was not real, that we’d go to dinner after the show
To eat my favorite steak sandwich (as usual), you simply told me that Donald Duck would soon bring me the sandwich. But when the scene changed, Donald Duck came back smacking his lips without the sandwich.

Then all hell broke loose. I wailed at the top of my lungs that Donald Duck had eaten my sandwich.
He had lied to me and not given me the promised sandwich. That was unbearable. There was
No way to console me or make me understand—too late—that Donald Duck was also hungry,
That it was his sandwich, not mine, or that what was on the screen was just a cartoon and not real.

He, Donald Duck, mi favorite Disney character (then and now) hade eaten this little boy’s Sandwich. Such a Betrayal by a loved one was inconceivable and unbearable. You and dad had to drag me out of the theater ranting And crying at the injustice at top volume. The tantrum (extremely rare for me then, less so now) went on for awhile, but all was well again when my beloved Aunt Nieves gave me a ******* with jam and told me Donald had sent it.

So much water under the bridge. Your own memories, like smoke in a soft breeze, have dissipated
Into insubstantial molecules like so many stars in the night sky that paint no coherent picture.
An entire life of vital conversations turned to the whispers of children in a violent tropical storm,
Insubstantial, imperceptible fragments—just a dream that interrupts an eternal nightmare.

That is your life today. Your memory was always prodigious. You knew the name of every person
You ever met, and those of their family members. You could recall entire conversations word for word.
Three years of schooling proved more than sufficient for you to go out into the world, carving your own
Path from the Inhospitable wilderness and learning to read and write at the age of 16.

You would have been a far better lawyer than I and a fiery litigator who would have fought injustice
Wherever you found it and always defended the rights of those who cannot defend themselves,
Especially children who were always your most fervent passion. You sacrificed everything for others,
Always put yourself dead-last, and never asked for anything in return.

You were an excellent dancer and could sing like an angel. Song was your release in times of joy and
In times of pain. You did not drink or smoke or over-indulge in anything. For much of your life your only minor Indulgence was a weekly trip to the beauty parlor—even in Spain where your washing and ironing income
Paid for that. You were never vain in any way, but your self-respect required you to try to look your best.

You loved people and unlike dad who was for the most part shy, you were quite happy in the all-to-infrequent
Role as the life of the party—singing, dressing up as Charlie Chaplin or a newborn for New Year’s Eve parties with Family and close friends. A natural story-teller until dementia robbed you of the ability to articulate your thoughts,
You’d entertain anyone who would listen with anecdotes, stories, jokes and lively conversation.

In short: you were an exceptional person with a large spirit, a mischievous streak, and an enormous heart.
I know I am not objective about you, but any of your surviving friends and family members who knew you
Well will attest to this and more in a nanosecond. You had an incredibly positive, indomitable attitude
That led you to rush in where angels fear to treat not out of foolishness but out of supreme confidence.

Life handed you cartloads of lemons—enough to pickle the most ardent optimist. And you made not just
Lemonade but lemon merengue pie, lemon sorbet, lemon drops, then ground up the rind for sweetest
Rice pudding, flan, fried dough and a dozen other delicacies. And when all the lemons were gone, you sowed the Seeds from which extraordinarily beautiful lemon trees grew with fruit sweeter than grapes, plums, or cherries.

I’ve always said with great pride that you were a far better writer than I. How many excellent novels,
Plays, and poems could you have written with half of my education and three times my workload?
There is no justice in this world. Why does God give bread to those without teeth? Your
Prodigious memory no longer allows you to recognize me. I was the last person you forgot.

But even now when you cannot have a conversation in any language, Sometimes your eyes sparkle, and
You call me “neniño” (my little boy in Galician) and I know that for an instant you are no longer alone.
But too son the light fades and the darkness returns. I can only see you a few hours one day a week.
My life circumstances do not leave me another option. The visits are bitter sweet but I’m grateful for them.

Someday I won’t even have that opportunity to spend a few hours with you. You’ll have no
Monument to mark your passing save in my memory so long as reason remains. An entire
Life of incalculable sacrifice will leave behind only the poorest living legacy of love
In your son who lacks appropriate words to adequately honor your memory, and always will.


*          *          *

The day has come, too son. October 11, 2018. The call came at 3:30 am.
An hour or two after I had fallen asleep. They tried CPR in vain. There will be no more
Opportunities to say, “I Love you,” to caress your hands and face, to softly sing in your ear,
To put cream on your hands, or to hope that this week you might remember me.

No more time to tell you the accomplishments of loved ones, who I saw, what they told me,
Who asked about you this week, or to pray with you, or to ask if you would give me a kiss by putting my
Cheek close to your lips, to feel joy when you graced me with many little kisses in response,
Or tell you “Maybe next time” when as more often than not the case for months you did not respond.

In saying good bye I’d give you the kiss and hug Alice always sent you,
Followed by three more kisses on the forehead from dad (he always gave you three) and one from me.
I’d leave the TV on to a channel with people and no sound and when possible
Wait for you to close your eyes before leaving.

Time has run out. No further extensions are possible. My prayers change from asking God to protect
You and by His Grace allow you to heal a little bit each day to praying that God protect your
Soul and dad’s and that He allow you to rest in peace in His kingdom. I miss you and Dad very much
And will do so as long as God grants me the gift of reason. I never knew what it is to be alone. I do now.

Four years seeing your blinding light reduced to a weak flickering candle in total darkness.
Four years fearing that you might be aware of your situation.
Four years praying that you would not feel pain, sadness or loneliness.
Four years learning to say goodbye. The rest of my life now waiting in the hope of seeing you again.

I love you mom, with all my heart, always and forever.
Written originally in Spanish and translated into English with minor additions on my mom's passing (October 2018).
Chase Hunter Mar 2015
Sitting on this small park bench
waiting in the winds while the trees undress
I look for a path that could change the past

All the words I speak are just continuous ideas I seek
Planning out my future like I am supposed to know who to be

Sitting on a park bench with the Autumn leaves
conversing with myself of what I actually want and need

Well I will truly never know until I succeed
but success is just an optimist of serenity
and sometimes even greed

So for now I will just sit on this park bench
with the calm and cooling breeze
Just being happy that I am me
**** off mankind,
And give the Earth a chance!
Nature might find
In her inheritance
The seedlings of a race
Less infinitely base.
Happynessa May 2016
Within the centre of your being
May you find peace
Every act of unconditional love
Echoes in eternity
Spread your wings and dance
Dreams into reality
If your situation  won't change
Then change yourself
The optimist is often as wrong
As the pessimist
But he is far far happier
Choose happiness
Timothy Nov 2012
A few hours after midnight; the world is fast asleep.
Alone and cold do I wander. Like a nightmare do I creep.
With the intent of nothing I sit and watch the street.
It’s a week after Halloween and my shoes are on my feet.
I near my house, I think I’ll shave, (My chin has an itch.)
But at my feet upon the ground a color doesn’t fit;
Black on black with a spot of white doesn’t sit quite right.
You’d think they’d be more careful, ornery little gits.
Yet here at my feet, some candy lies plainly in my sight.
I stop to stare and wonder, and my brain does a nervous twitch.
 
So here I am; with a piece of candy that might have mange
Meanwhile my mind is discovering a whole new range
For all the pain we go through, to keep the world nice,
 Nothing anyone does ever seems to pay the price.
I’ve got a new hybrid car, gets 50 to the gallon plus it’s electric.
And when I finish a snack trash is out the window. Are we epileptic?
I mean you’ve got to be kidding me, who can say that they are not
A miserable little hypocrite? World is full of betrayal and lies.
Filling with anger, righteous and hot, I feel a change in my soul.
I’ll be better! I’ll change the world or the two of us will sever ties!
The earth will follow my example and we’ll hold to higher goal.
Give me a few years and then lets see what we’ve got!
 
I hold onto the fantasy for a while, sad to let it slip.
But the truth does sink in and reality has a tighter grip.
Even if I spoke who would listen? One cry in a thousand’s not so great.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t try, to resign ourselves to our fate.
I’ve never been a pessimist, just a realistic optimist you understand.
If you want change, aim for what you can hold in your hand.
Think you can bring about world peace, think you’ve got the might?
Try to keep peace in your town, or your block, or home without a fight.
I stand and think to myself one more Sucker here and there,
Isn’t going to change a thing. If ten men vowed never to let themselves repeat
Their mistakes, the next day a chance would come, one would stand,
Nine would shudder and forsake him. Alone he’d return to his seat.
I step away and head home. I return my thoughts to the matters at hand.
Like my homework; a poem and some calc. I’ve still got to lose some ****** hair
Salvador Torres Nov 2014
What causes an Optimist to dream?
Is it Confidence?
Is it talent?
Or something unseen...
Unmatched bravery?
Life planned cleverly?
Or something in between.
Maybe.....Just maybe,
they're the ones
living in reality.
And the sight of their accomplishment
withers away our false sanity.
Wrote this during a boring *** math lecture.
onlylovepoetry Dec 2019
An Optimist’s Guide to Falling in Love With a Woman


have a very minor fender ******, you’ll never get a persons digits any easier, consider it a bonus first date, a stress test interview, when humans on their worst/best behavior, their true nature revealed and tough exteriors melt when gallantly take full responsibility, details to be discussed over dinner

risks: she’ll  will never ever let you drive her, even after, no...never ever after, the issue is closed, ‘twas your fault and is non-discussable

critique her order standing behind her at McDonald’s. blowback assured! charm resistance and openness will be tested, but you claim pure concern for her well being, even after offering to pay  a dollar for every calorie ingested if she only switches to a plant-based burger

risks: hamburger grease soul staining, no love stain stick remover handy and everybody knows mixed marriages really never work tween bronco busting cowgirls and city tree huggers

you take a spill, nose in the phone crossing street, she lifts you up with wonder woman strength and gentility, you sputter with half-feigned indignation for you’ve embarrassedly first sight-fallen in love, all your words and everything else is failing and flailing as she tends to the cut, drives you to her office where she stitches you up, while cracking jokes that are truly funny

risks: she is a Dallas Cowboy fan, or worse, someone else got there first, and you need life long therapy

she’s in seat 10C, Miami to NYC, pretending very poorly to not be reading this very story-poem you’re creating, but doing so VERY poorly because she is editing, making suggestions, punching you in the arm excitedly, asking if you want to share a cab home, for she reveals that she too, secretly dips the quill in ink and needs an expert opinion, yours for sure since you’re SO good looking too!

risks: the weather diverts the plane to Baltimore where you live together happily after-ever, cause you’re both tired of life in cities with 3-13 perennial losing NFL teams and it is exquisitely equidistant from your annoying relatives
and ex’s





Baltimore Washington International Airport
4:29 pm Dec. 2nd
Brian Miller Oct 2011
I'm a democrat and republicans want this war to continue. People needs to wake up!

I'm a republican and democrats want to keep spending despite our failing economy. People needs to wake up!

I'm a Christian and Jesus will be coming soon. The Non-Christians and non-religious need to wake up!

I'm a  radical Muslim and the west is going to take over. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a atheist and the religious radicals are trying to take over the country. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a bigot and gays, Jews and blacks are taking over. People need to wake up!

I'm an optimist and the world will recover. Pessimists need to wake up!

I'm a pessimists and the world is messed up. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a teacher and school is necessary for society to function. Kids need to wake up!

I'm a vegan, because eating of and torturing of animals is inhumane. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm not a vegan because animals are needed for our survival. Vegans need to wake up!

I'm anti-school and school is a prison. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a racist and other races will take over. My people need to wake up!

I'm an anarchist and the government is robbing us of our rights. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-government and society needs order. Anarchists need to wake up!

I'm an environmentalist and we are harming the planet. Mankind needs to wake up!

I'm anti-environmentalism and the earth is fine. Environmentalists needs to wake up!

People, wake up!! I'm a 9/11 truther and 9/11 was created by the government.

I'm against truthers and 9/11 was caused by terrorists. Truthers need to wake up!

I'm a conspiracy theorist and the government is hiding things from us. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm against animal testing because its unethical. People need to wake up!

I'm for animal testing because we need to make sure our inventions work. Everyone needs to wake  up!

I'm a sexist and the opposite gender is taking over. My gender needs to wake up!

I'm a creationist and evolution is a lie. Everyone needs to wake up!!

I'm a scientist and creationism is a lie. Creationists need to wake up!

I'm anti-capitalism because it robs people of  their money. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-capitalism because most wealthy nations are capitalists. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-death penalty because some people need to die. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm anti-death penalty because criminals are people too. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a militant and everyone is an enemy. We need to wake up!!

I'm against war because war is ******. Everyone needs to wake up!!

I'm a climate change denier and global warming is a scam. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm a climatologist and global warming is real. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-life and abortion is ******. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-choice and its the woman's choice. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm anti-gun law and people are crazy. Everyone needs to wake up!

I'm pro-gun law and people are crazy with guns. Everyone needs to wake up!





Wake up, Its a brand new day.....
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2018
I had put on weight,
I enjoyed life,
I  was optimist,
I was my children's  number one,
My husband had not left me,
Though my beauty was receding.
Didn't have time for beauty parlours,
I decided to sum up myself in the mirror,
Looked at my curves,
None at all,
Looked at my face,
Slight traces of beauty left.
Needed a face lift,
Smile still **** and beautiful,
Hair, high time I went to a good hairstylist.
I turned this way and that way,
I was no more stylish,
I was fading.
Tears welled up in my eyes,
I heard a chorus from behind me,
"BEST CREATION FROM GOD"
My three children and husband
gathered around me for a family hug,
We love you as you are,
Nothing More Nothing Less.
Muggle Ginger Mar 2013
Inside every pessimist is a broken optimist.
Inside every realist is a disappointed optimist.
Inside every optimist is a little bit of hope.
You can choose what type of person you are. But never forget there's some hope in all of us.
elizabeth Mar 2017
Like many things in life,
Problems occur.
Problems which we are
Meant to learn from.

Like many things in life,
Difficulties arise.
Difficulties that we can
All overcome together.


For better or for worse
the latter is more common,
for worse happens way too often,
the problems we face don't fade.

We live in this prison called life
difficulties arise as we slowly walk
to our demise,we fill our minds
that there are ways we can escape.



The hardships of life
Are only a small part of the
Vivid painting that is life.
We are the complete image.

Though we may have tears,
Rips, piercings, and smudges,
We are still full of wonder and
Our minds are full of light.


**We embrace the order
we border on uniformity
awfully we are digging ourselves
in shelves of debt and depression.

Life is a vivid painting,
staining the realisation that death,
that the last breath taken
and the needless pain is imminent.
March 5, 2017.
This is a collab I did with Gregory Dun Aer. The regular font is the optimist, the bolded is the pessimist. Gregory wrote the pessimistic side, I wrote the other.
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Verse 1: Drake]
Versace, Versace, Medusa head on me like I'm 'Luminati
This is a gated community, please get the ******* the property
Rap must be changing cause I'm at the top and ain't no one on top of me
****** be wanting a verse for a verse, but man that's not a swap to me
Drowning in compliments, pool in the backyard that look like Metropolis
I think I'm sellin' a million first week, man I guess I'm a optimist
Born in Toronto but sometimes I feel like Atlanta adopted us
What the **** is you talkin' 'bout? Saw this **** comin' like I had binoculars
Boy, Versace, Versace, we stay at the mansion when we in Miami
The pillows' Versace, the sheets are Versace, I just won a Grammy
I've been so quiet, I got the world like "What the **** is he planning?"
Just make sure that you got a back up plan cause that **** might come in handy
Started a label, the album is comin' September, just wait on it
This year I'm eating your food and my table got so many plates on it
Hundred inch TV at my house, I sit back like "**** I look great on it"
I do not **** with your new ****, my *****, don't ask for my take on it
Speakin' in lingo, man this for my ***** that trap out the bando
This for my ****** that call up Fernando to move a piano
**** all your feelin's cause business is business, its strictly financial
I'm always the first one to get it, man that's how you lead by example
Versace, Versace, Versace, Versace, Versace, Versace
Word to New York cause the Dyckman and Heights girls are callin' me "Papi"
I'm all on the low, take a famous girl out where there's no paparazzi
I'm tryna give Halle Berry a baby and no one can stop me

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Versace, Versace
Its killers, real ****** that's all in my posse (shooters!)
I'm getting so rich that they making up rumors that I'm illuminati (rich!)
Just me and my ****** we killin' these *******, go body for body (murders!)
These suckers be hating, they praying to God that I don't cop a Bugatti
Hold up, drop the top on the rari
Pull in the club and I'm stopping the party
Hold up, got ******* on *******
They poppin' on molly's I'm prolly at Follies with PeeWee and Tip
Of course i went with Lou
I did everything that I said I would do
I really won't tell you that I'm better than you
But we're not on the same level as you
Cause the G55 got a hell of a view
Regular ****** make regular moves
With ya regular ***** and ya regular crew
And you ***** still smokin on regular too? Like word?!
What a shame, my *****
Louboutin blood like Game, my *****
Get left tryna aim, my *****
Like Saddam Hussein, my *****
I'm whippin' this brand new machine
100 bands in my jeans
Call yo ***** Barry Sanders
She done ran through the team
I got hoes out the D
They playing on the team
Do anything for me
I mix that xan with the lean
Hold up, let me get it back
Versace, Versace
I'm gettin' this money, I'm stackin' my broccoli (racks!)
I'm running my city
You might gotta pay me if you land on my property (tax!)
I bought the boardwalk and I parked on the ave
****, my life's like monopoly
You caught a new case and you got outta jail
Boy, you look like a cop to me
(Get out of jail free card?)

[Verse 3: Tyga]
Aughh! Versace, Versace, I brought that **** back, all these ****** they copy
Medusa head on me I'm at the hotel, Versace Palazzo
I rented the yacht for a week, but I bought the convertible Lambo
Six mill for the mansion
I see haters coming I need some more ammo
These ****** gay that's Elmo
So much green I turned camo
Some hoover ****** on flannels
Light light you up no candle
Grip on that handle Yosemite Sam ya, that ***** bang like a banjo
Told my arms dealer no need for a box, I don't read the instructions, I throw out the manual (WOO!)
Versace, Versace, my brother king Trell he in a Ferrari
I don't look the same, my camera the same, I made too much money (WOO!)
Paul Pierce is my neighbor, I told him he should of went to the Clippers
I got some crazy ideas for Versace, get them and tell'em my number
Versace, auggh Picasso, Basquiat I'm cocky
23, 15 mill I'm just getting started
Pop water my water
I walk around on my wallet
I don't **** with Saddam but, that's gold all in my toilet
Statues of Horus, and the annubis is polished
I don't got to, rap about, coke for you to enjoy it
I'm bout' to join the money team, just holla' to Floyd about it
Versace, Versace, I'm taking my money to the Cayman islands (WOO!) Versace Auggh!!

[Outro: Quavo]
Versace, Versace, Versace, Versace
Versace, Versace, Versace, Versace
Versace, Versace Versace, Versace Versace
Versace, Versace Versace, Versace Versace
I love this song!... lyrics to  "Versace" by: Migos ft Drake, Meek Mill, and Tyga ****. by:  Zaytoven.
DieingEmbers Jun 2012
Oh

I'll lay the table

said

the  over

optimistic hen.
AA Phi Sep 2013
first,
a raccoon wrapped within its own intestine.
the asphalt is its grave; i swerve to miss it.
we shared the same air, maybe even a
common ancestor.
someone moved too fast to care.
its the ones with
fast cars and slow minds
pretty faces and ugly intent
artificial kindness but genuine hate
i'm not your friend
just a similar sense of self
it is
fat priests playing golf
lottery ticket paradises
restaurants
embellished mechanized slaughter
fake laughter and even faker love
shopping mall environmentalists
lexus-driving christians
paychecks, TV, lawn mowing sundays
drink yourself to death
please.
the least among us in control
deprived of the mind
the stench of their egos
and their hypocrisy
the gasoline, the cash, and the forced smiles
as i write people die
children die
i'm like many
the fool who knows
but does nothing
the one who doesn't know
that's the good person
the moral person.

second,
a rant, a ******* rage
the days are stale, self-actualize, the Earth remains the same
dry and motionless
middle-class frustration, planetary confusion,
the ***** of the Earth,
capsized like dying branches
in a wal-mart state of mind,
stupid slobs, rodent minded social egoists
over-organized, clean freak object fetishists
the evolutionary dollar sign
they bay at the moon, it's made of cheesecake
phase transitioning,
you blood clot, Earthly blood clot,
you don't know art
now there's ancient blood on my hands
smokeless, plantless, Earthless blood
detached from Gaian consciousness
stain on the mind
confused, clogged pathways,
clogged with
self-righteous mind flood
piles of ***** tissue,
waning and waxing
force feed me your ******* please
because i have no idea how to answer
in this cultural blood bath
it is the
end of time
the end of mind.

:aaphi
smallhands May 2014
if only I were an optimist
half-full glasses and seratonin
by the masses
some days the light can blare
however today I think
I'll sit
and not care

-c.j.
MsAmendable Nov 2015
Let me love for the good,
Not hate for the bad.
Live for the happy,
Not die from the sad.
For there is always light in the dark,
If you only choose to look.

— The End —