"preview" poems
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone
Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky
Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams
The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind
But a preview of future times
For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness
Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen
What is believed has 20/20 vision
A clear sight with no eyeballs
But a driven mind with great visual
Anticipating the future of success
Feeling blessed and alleviating stress
Persevering and passing all the tests
What lies is the wind which is the past
Securing things of desire at last
Achievement is a good friend
Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
On a good day, the Sun shines on you.
You are in a Disney movie, stretching your arms,
As the first light of day hits your toes.
And all the sores of the previous nights,
Reduced as mere soap suds down the drain.
Last night's shower is a preview of the first one today, and coffee smells like the freshest brew straight from a pre-packed foil. Nothing beats the thrill of a morning cup.
Life is a sitcom, waiting for the supporting characters to show up and raid your ref, and then! The punchline.
You plan your day.
You invite a good day.
You laugh out loud.
On your best day, you lounge.
You drink your cup and eat breakfast straight from the pan, and the pan loves you for calling the kettle black.
You write your notes on some discarded tissue previously used to wipe off dust.
You are free versing with the staunchest disregard for tones and rules of archaic poetry; sometimes, disavowing a semblance of order.
Because the best is you.
It is now.
And you are but a small supporting character,
Patiently waiting for the chime of the next five punchlines
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
It snowed
today.
A great white
cloud descended,
bringing a
preview of
heavens' glorious expanse.
The children laughed and played,
and hit each other with
little spheres of cleanliness.
With flushed cheeks and frozen lips
they slowly trickled inside,
the warmth within even greater
for the cold without.
Even parents felt a warmth
in the snow as they journeyed out,
a glowing reminder that all
is not lost in this world.
But my window stayed shuttered,
my doors remained closed,
my body remained inside.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
all real and vivid as it seems to be
none of it can be felt completely
a fluffy vision being reeled to our consciousness
suddenly evolving into a great nightmare
***
human voices always
ruining the good dreams
yet are life-savers when
we have our worst nightmares
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
Today I accidentally saw a preview of; The News;
a disabled sixteen-year-old girl, a victim of abuse
god
The accused is a priest. A round man in a long black cassock
And a snip view from mass of another priest plays shortly
My face turns green as my mood turns blue
He says he has a holy feeling, that the accusations aren’t true.
A cult; /kʌlt/ noun
‘a system of religious veneration and devotion directed towards a particular figure or object.’
We show our devotion, we kneel and give thanks
He applies lotion, looks at a child and wanks.
god
Everyone is entitled to their beliefs, and to the respect of those beliefs.
My belief is that no human is superior to another human.
A priest is only a man.
And this man in the long black cassock had a plan.
And this child will remain terrorized forever.
People should be held accountable for their actions.
Women’s lives are not to be of similar value to male satisfactions.
An article on ‘The year of ‘Times Up’ and ‘Me Too’ movements has been a dangerous year for men.’
Every year from the beginning of time has been a dangerous year for a woman.
Innocent men are not in danger.
I was sexualized and assaulted at the age of eleven. #MeToo
I wasn’t wearing a short skirt. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t provocative.
I was playing chase.
For years after that game of chase
I had nightmares featuring his face
This is not your place to say this year is dangerous, for men.
Times Up
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Inspiration is a funny thing
It can come from anywhere
Anyone
What's been done
Is a preview of what's to come
Life hard
Only getting harder
My goals are far
And seem to be getting farther
I'm a father
And a poet
Though at present I don't see her
I hope she can see later
That we're not so bad
Me and her mother
She's angry with me
I'm hurt by her
But like a kidney stone
This will pass
I ask
Does anyone understand?
Can anyone relate?
No?
That's okay
I've always been patient.
People try to shake me
Break me
And take me
Down
There is a quote here
That has driven these words
Like bees they swarm
You say
You cannot fight the storm
I say
You're right
I cannot fight myself
I am the storm.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
i am known by many descriptive names
daughter, friend, colleague, cousin, niece, aunt, and fellow Christian
but none give a preview of my soul
i myself do not know, brain washed by conformity
constantly seeking my missing parts
its like completing a challenging puzzle not knowing the complete image
blind thumbs in the mist and dark
grasping on to believe, " there must be something out there"
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
Now the New Adventure excitement dares...
And...HUH? Your waiting Preview disappeared!
But, why? With so much Stories we do care
How fruitful and ******* your Holiday reared
You signed with a Smile; That much Girls adore
Inside the Jet would Paradise lay its Leis
From there the Codec stopped; Much I restore
What may have consumed the rest of the Day
Spottings? Cocktails? Folklore or Breaker-Dance,
None which I Follow or Dare to presume
This is your Notebook; Far to live by Chance
On how you Grow and Party in your Room.
Preserve your Courage. This is your Best Hour
To check New Frontiers; Increase your Mind by far.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
To strive, for recognition
An assembly point for thought
Triumphed within an open page
Paper evidence of unspoken verse
Retrieved from the place behind this heart
Do you mind?
Don’t look over my shoulder at my vulnerability
Private stance is mine
Do not mock as I turn the page
A personal preview of this unlocked memory
Back of my neck, prickling
Anticipating on the spot reaction
Young, ill at ease
Crying from the yard
Hiding the scars
Don’t rush away the memories, a deluge
When time was so limited
Become brave
Force open the private recess
Cobwebbed and masked by dust
Speak clearly, not from mumbling
Mouth, I need to………….. know
I am blemished
So glad to be alongside you
Reunited, forgotten, forgiven.....now ribbon tied
Can we bury?
It would seem not......but wait and remember
Deceived by the dark
Under dressed for the occasion
Battered suitcase dragged and kicked open
Essays of remembrance
Headlines screaming for discussion
Released for a while
Obeyed and tidied
Press down and close the rusty catches
My new day transcribed here
I don’t mind, lean on my shoulder
See my vulnerability
It makes me strong
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
Am I the only one not understanding it?
Some poems have no likes or views
Some poems have a preview, others don't
Some poems are brand new
Some poems are two days old
There's a temperature gage that doesn't make sense
And sometimes there's a poem that disappears off it
I'm flabbergasted...
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
We live our lives
In past review,
Sometimes we get
A snap preview;
It's what we call
Deja Vu.
Our synoptic
Brain ignites,
Fuel injected,
Bathing grey matter;
Hurling perception
Through time;
Faster than a blink of light,
No more than a nano,
To immediate present.
Then brain relapses,
Returns to stasis,
We're in the past again.
Same peoples,
Same places,
But I was here,
Before.
Never left, now
Back once more.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC
The oxygen tastes so familiar
I’m sure that I've breathed this before
The day trickles in through the curtains
The draft shuffles under the door
The sunlight ambushes my pillow
And forces me further a field
The cat at the door wants his breakfast
The bells of the church are all peeled
But there's little to gain by awakening
To remind me of all that I miss
When I hold you its like you're a statue
And you push me away with a kiss
The cars rattle by on their business
And the postman enrages the dog
The wind asks around for directions
And leaves all the shutters agog
My quilt is beginning to stifle
And my neck, with a threatening creak
Gives a preview of oncoming headaches
In a language too easy to speak
But uncomfortable I persevere
With a risible snore and a hiss
Because soon I'll turn over to face you
And you'll push me away with a kiss
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
i dreamt of you the other night and i cant say i've felt the same since
why were the bumble bees on the appalachian trail so furry and friendly? Maybe it was the fresh mountain air that turned them into fuzzy mutants. I swear i could feel them softly whispering calming pleasantries into my ear, like stop worrying you're going to fall off this mountain silly girl, that wont be the way you die.
a white spotted greyhound tagged behind our group on the trail for a solid thirty minutes, my heart ached for the loneliness and hopelessness it must've been feeling, depression cant only be limited to humans? i thought about that dog obsessively for a week straight while everyone else shooed it off easily. No living thing wants to die alone and that dog reminded me of that paralyzing fear i inhabit.
bare feet padded down the beaten dirt path, walking sticks and grime galore. smiles graced their content dirt streaked faces. this must be an early preview of what my heaven will appear as.
cows were dotted everywhere, in another life i hope to be apart of a cow herd on a mountain filled with dandelions. they aren't weak, they are assertive and docile, only a ***** if you mess with them.
i wish words could fathom the beauty in the orange that sunrise contained. rustling sleeping bags and soft sighs of sleep enveloped the tent in a hazy glow, chilled faces turned rouge from the bittersweet breeze. this moment awakened my resonating need for individuality, the feeling of standing alone amongst others who seem to be enduring each day in a sleepy zombie like state. Only surviving for the moment they can finally collapse into their homely, bundled sheets. I'm afraid of being like them.
where did i leave off on you, something about a dream?
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
umulan man at umaraw (rain or shine)
sa gutom man at uhaw (in hunger and thirst)
gaano man kababaw (no matter how insignificant)
itong ating abot-tanaw (our gather horizon)
sa panahon ng tag-lagas (during the autumn)
sasanga ang puno ng wagas (the tree gotta branch full of pure)
dahon at dagta magbabawas (leaves and resin currently reduce)
may mag-aanyong maangas (then a form of the only you takes its amazing column)
sa punong walang lilim (in chief unshaded)
walang aninong maililihim (no shadow would hide)
magbubunga ang ugat (root shall yields)
lingid sa ating pamulat (lurking at our naked eye)
mula sa pagsilip ng bukang-liwayway (From dawn preview)
hanggang sa init ng tanghaling tapat (until mid-noon heat)
maging sa pagsapit ng dapit-hapon (even at the approach of dusk)
pagtatakpan ako, mula sa simula muli ng takip silim (shielding the blue one, i started again on the twilight)
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
You were a friend faithful and true, but in your eyes: of evil I was a preview
The path I took brought you to feel fear and disdain
But if you could see from my view, you’d see my efforts are not vain
I wonder what became of you, and whether you think of our old debut
It wasn’t grand, but it seemed part of the predestined plan
For that time I’m thankful, because of you I grew more faithful
I remember your fervor for God, and in that I am still awed
Lives on different paths, perhaps in the next we’ll walk together
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
I HAVE FINALLY RE-EDITED AND FINISHED MY FIRST BOOK, FROM CRO MAGNON TO PRO AVERAGE MAN: AN ASSORMENT OF POEMS!!!!!
Well, I have officially made my first book of poetry. The book is entitled From Cro Magnon to Pro Average Man: An Assortment of Poems. This was the first time I ever attempted making a book, and finally I have pulled it off!!! I made this book through the website: www.bookemon.com. Just a few minutes ago, I actually published the book on Bookemon for the whole world to buy! So, if you’ve wanted a copy all along, are interested in reading it now, and/or just want to help me keep chasing my dream of becoming a known-poet by paying for the book, YOU CAN!! Here’s what you do:
You go to www.bookemon.com
You enter “From Cro Magnon to Pro Average Man” into the search bar in the upper-right hand part of the screen.
When you hit “Search,” my books should pop up!! MY books! I actually made it.
There are two types of the book. A hardcover and a softcover version. It will say which version is which under the title. The hardcover version sells for $28.72, plus tax. And the softcover version sells for $18.07, plus tax.
If you would be so awesomely-amazing to buy a copy, just hit ADD TO CART, Then scroll down and hit PROCEED TO CHECKOUT. Hit CONTINUE under GUEST CHECKOUT, and enter your information there.
NOW, I KNOW THE BOOK IS KINDA PRICY, BUT BOOKEMON SETS THE PRICES THEMSELVES. MY APOLOGIES.
Or, if you don’t have any money to spend and just want a little preview of the book, you can hit READ beside the book and get a free 20 page preview!!
Again, thank you to everyone who has supported me through this long process of self-publishing my first book of poetry. And thanks in advance to anyone who is willing to buy the book and actually does. THAT WOULD MEAN THE LITERAL WORLD TO ME.
Thank you all again. Now I have all my time devoted to the continuing and making of my second book, Pocket Change for Priceless Memories. It’s coming soon!!
Thanks again everyone!
Nick
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
When I say I care little about you
Please know it's the absolute full amount of truth
I hate that I can't scream it at you
Won't forget all you put us through
Just another father on paper, a DAD tattoo
I swore it wouldn't be a preview
Now I look in the mirror and take a swing at you
I try to break through to this other dimension too pull you through
Take back a lifetime that doesn't belong to you
Do my best too squeezed it out of you
Count to three, pull on two, forced to play and pay what's due
Not on queue, but life caught up with you
Couldn't have happened too a more deserving fool, though way overdue
I didn't cling to tissue, I knew I wouldn't miss you
Already grieved for you back in '02
And I knew I'd never let the son of your son know you
Not as a man I knew, not as nothin' but a cautionary tale of what not to do
With both middle fingers to the earth I say thank you
©2023
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 8:08 PM UTC
Until I find you
I lay awake
Before I fall asleep
Trying to imagine
What it would be like
What it would feel like
To hold you in my arms
To taste your lips as they quiver for another kiss
Then you would grab my neck with intent
Pulling me closer
Holding me harder
As I run my fingers down the curves of your body
Feeling......
Every........
Inch......
Slowly.....
So slowly.....
Just so I can see.....
You...
To get a glimpse of the truth hidden behind your lips
I want to feel your heart beat
Thumping on my chest
I want to hear your voice
Please sing to me
Please stay with me
Please don't leave me
Again.....
As I fall from this dreamality
And realize it's nothing more than just another moment of insanity
I still hear you
I still feel you
Darling until I find you
Life will be just a preview
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
Eyes that stare at me with such depth that I shudder when I look directly
Hair which curls around my finger and bounces simply perfectly
Giving me a preview of a sunrise that hasn't yet been seen
Gazing at darling Jenny and knowing only she does this to me
Watching the heavens with such wonder as she litters them with stars
Hoping that she sees me from palaces in clouds from afar
Yet holding her with such unwavering dedication and never letting go
Seeing my dear Jenny and feeling her love's glow
Hearing every whisper, every hark, and every secret breath
Binding a love that I know will not be abolished by this thing called death
Shining in a world where humdrum people flock in by the many
Loving her for all she's worth, wanting my dear Jenny
Jenny's hands are the only ones which soften my rugged fingers
Before and after she leaves the room I find her scent does linger
Her silouette is one I look for each time I enter the door
Hearing her soft footstepstouch the cool, wooden floor
I will keep my dearest Jenny for as long as long can last
Seeing the timeline in her eyes of both our future and our past
Knowing that we will be in a love with no questioning or regret
And lying with her as her eyes close in and under her eyelids are sunsets
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC