"springboard" poems
So in this Month your Heart begins to press
For Good October promises your Due
Thinking of Delight and Travel Costs less,
And finally meeting her through and through
Her arm must have healed, given Time's duty
No more must such Fortress wall you apart
Her, Blessed Pronoun who cheers you truly
On her own Springboard she performs her Part
As you guide Witness to her own Unique Craft,
That Guideline which does greatly Inspire
Now look! Her Swan whips the Air; And the Draft
Begs humbly deep its legs to retire.
Your Hug was her Reward; Then the Flannel
Covers your Cheers on the Upper Panel.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
As kids
We were taught to cheer for the hero
The picture perfect role model
The one we all strived to be
The one that always found a way to win
No matter what the odds
He always made the decisions
He Should make
And the only mistakes he made
Were ones that could be corrected
So he could keep his perfect image
We cheered for the hero because
When he was faced with tragedy
He didn't drown in sorrow
But instead used it as a springboard
To become something greater
He always saved the day
And everyone who needed
And he never failed to rescue someone
Not even once
So we held him up high
Because that's what we wanted to be
But overtime
We learned that the hero is just a fantasy
He only lives in comics
Because that's where he was meant to be
So we learned to side with the villain
Not because we're evil
But because the villain is more real
More human
When the villain was faced with tragedy
He did what was human
He attempted to swim
In the flood of sorrow
But couldn't swim forever
He drowned
The villain is relatable
He makes the decision
We Would make
He did what he thought was right
Or at least what was necessary
To provide the needs of
Or to avenge
His family
But eventually
He became blinded
To what he did
And he couldn't see
That he was wrong
Because the villain isn't perfect
He's just like us
The villain is human
So we side with the villain
Becuase we feel his pain
We relate with his emotions
We understand his actions
Perfection is something we can't be
So we stopped cheering for the hero
When we realized that's who we can never be
And started to side with the villain
Because he's just like you and me
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
"Make lots of noise ~ Stamp your feet!"
Garlic is the new black, all squares are red, so dance the colour blue, and leave your prejudices at the door.
It's not just wrapping paper, yellow triangles or wallpaper,
it's radical art; challenging the norms and provoking change!
"show me how you party and I'll show you who I am!"
14 years of faith, form and function;
designed to unleash the utopian spirit,
a space for drinking, laughing, loving, dreaming and creating.
We built the Bauhaus as a sanctuary, not as a prison, a monument, or a museum, but as a springboard for something new!
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
It’s the damndest thing when attentions focused
on one thing beget the focus of another
Like the rooster crowing the sunlight
in the cold, ungrateful weather,
My eyes scan the ups and downs
of those digital stand-ins for those I’ve known
Seeing mistakes, my own and in others,
Seeing perfection, in other’s imperfect successes,
wantonly rubbed in my eyes
As I springboard from the travails of those
with whom I may never vocalize my adoration
I drop out of the air of a life far from mine,
I see mention of a passed on spirit
Who I truly adored,
no digital fakery of half-true fables necessary
to express my love for the ideals implanted in me
by such a tongue so supplicant to the truths in that vast ether
where I used to swim in the light,
never thinking of the dark climes below.
What choice do I have on an accidental evening like tonight?
I no longer can mask disinterest for other’s soaring narratives
when my true care has been discovered,
been pried away from that dark corner of the airborne pool so ethereal.
My care, my pride have been torn asunder,
by a mere errant glance on a mere sideways mention
Of a massive, earthly idol, who, if only for a stanza of years
held my full gaze with hopeful smiles and ecstatic promise
for bright futures now gone into grey pastures.
I lay here an imposter in authentic skin
if only for the sight of words on screens,
with scant meaning in between.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
Is a realm where alchemy is alive and well
It resides in the aether making it difficult to envision
A place of dreams but if you are imaginative
There is also structure
Dreams without structure are just whispers of nothingness
Quickly dissipating
Without structure, dreams quickly fold back into the aether
Waiting for a less superfluous re-imagination
To make it on the physical plane, there must be roots
When dreams are infused with structure, roots can be found
There is potential that those dreams can wake up
When the dreams are provided with structure and
Are re-animated with function
Then we have a breath of life
Structure and function are what allows Us
To step out of dreamtime and into reality
To find the roots of that architecture you must have vision
Not see with your eyes vision, but a different type
This framework hasn’t always existed
Relations have created it
That’s why it’s recognizable
The framework are the laws, both natural and synthetic
It’s the place where duality and non-duality collide
It’s a place of transcendence
A place of truth
Maybe we can learn to see holistically here
Anisotropica has many functions
It’s art and science fused
It’s poetry and song and dance
And mathematics and physics and chemistry
It is an expression of sacred geometry
An amalgamation of binary and analog
The fusion of dreams and laws
Creates a space that can be mined for transcendence
A place where we can extend past many current limitations
It's a springboard to become who you are
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
a partial lobotomy of grey matters only to broken mothers of lost soldiers,
pentimento fading a revelation of humanized
modernized sentiment beyond the reaches of fingerless hands;
jagged bangs cut across the face of Burn-Victim Barbie if she were
seven feet tall,
imperfect,
9-dimensional shattered knees.
vote or die downward spiral protecing six-fingered man of mystery:
my name is the youth of America,
you killed my voice,
prepare to suffer in the solitary expression of the empty room.
peanuts for peanuts in a gold star self emporium with
thinking as a feeling sport contested by numerology in all matters moral.
Our very own
Satan as Hamlet,
set in a post-9/11 forgotten Washington,
drowning Ophelia in an ocean of plastic bottles non-recyclable.
meditation of the Om on a springboard of economic dis-stimulus:
up with the people!
in the midnight Vendetta,
too young to learn or sin originally,
masterful drunkenness shrouded in opera scenes from a hat.
fast track to a treble cliff diver
if you ever were my home.
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 10:39 PM UTC
The dragon saw me fly
Spread my wings in valour
Zipping across, beyond
Hoovering within and out
The bold red blood pumped
Showered zest and credence
Saw the springboard of the skies
Dreamt inside the beguiling clouds
Slept peacefully in a paradise
Forgot to guard from the fangs
******* in ripples of venoms
Gullible in the darkened scenes
Kidnapped and handcuffed on pillars
Chained in the unmoving conflicts
The chaotic shadowy cave stares
Dares to throw me in the deep pits
Fear is the only paralysis to fare
The pearls so outdated in efficacy
The bark of a feisty fighter diminishes
Love for humanity is the only key
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
Midway- Surprise! We saw them
Coming from a mile away.
Japanese aircrafts and ships try and attack,
And they get their butts whooped!
And then we got the idea to island hop!
Hop to Iwo Jima- Slowly.... Slowly.... Don't scare it,
It's like a nest of bees!
And we got it! Two air bases captured
And one step closer to the mainland!
Japan may be fortified, but we
Have tons of muscle!
Hop to Okinawa- this one was a doozy...
The biggest amphibious battle of WWII,
And contained the most casualties! Pretty harsh.
Maybe you they shouldn't have attacked us in the firs place!
We only meant to invade and use the island as a
Springboard towards the mainland, but the
Battle took too long.
Just weeks after the fighting ended, Japan surrendered
And we bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki!
We never got to invade...
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Jack could fly, had he wings,
and would die, had he not the mind.
The clouds above were his limit,
and no further would he rise.
There were cities in the clouds
made for those who could reach,
and Jack's new springboard
could launch him a hundred feet.
He could arrive just in time
to claim his prize of pride
if he jumped now.
Jack's dreams mocked him,
but with his springboard unassembled,
he told himself "In due time."
Then the day came.
His palms were sweating,
his heart leapt,
he shook with the raw ambition
he was famous for
to join himself to that city.
He ran, and worked up a great speed,
hit the springboard,
flew upward and hit the ceiling
and fell to the carpet.
Finally seeing his springboard
for what it truly was-
worthless,
with broken breaths and watering eyes
and a seemingly indifferent disposition,
he placed the springboard in his closet,
and jumped back into the hole he had crawled out of,
months before.
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 12:25 PM UTC
An empty drinking glass is pressed against a wall; amplifying the voices on the other side. My ear is pressed to the words, ”outside is a secret key” - I can honestly say, “I hear…" Your words, idealizations, sentiments, selected scrawls of graffiti-type promise and viewpoints echo through the wall. Over and over. Championing outsiders…
Are there WALLS WITHIN WALLS? Can we walk through them? ARE THE WALLS ERASABLE? Will the walls tumble down? Will the walls polarize? WHAT ABOUT CRACKS IN THE WALLS? Can they hear? Can we leap over them?
DO WE build them where everything and anything follows and flows?
DO WE build them where something's nothingness tethers vapors with souls?
DO WE build them so molecular melodies of light and dark can collide unopposed?
Are these word walls of dust? Can we move them? Can you angle between these walls? Will the walls speak a wealth of quiet surprises, poems, and meditations? Do walls give birth to improvisation?
Now some of these walls, in their moment are with no rules, self-constructed, circling dramatically, and might prove more resistant to erosion. These are often troubling walls, no voice, no strength of decency, no laughter, which place freedom at stake. That and survival. One can be easily manipulated or yanked by an image of the truth swirling in the brick blackness of the wall. Discomforts relish now. Walls such as these are very deep-rooted and passed on for generations. Yet even those barriers eventually give way once we read the super fine print etched into the wall - a word salad of B.S., idiocy and hypocrisy.
Reach for spray-paint and enlarge your wall… maybe it enhances your world now with colored aerosols of wall portraiture's that capture rebellion and mirth. So many Walls, AND SO MANY QUERIES…
I heard a poem say, “Step out from behind one (wall) and FIND YOUR REAL SELF” – or maybe it whispered “jus walk through that door in the wall.”
Your tightly strung trampoline of words has provided a springboard for me to bounce freely over the many walls we build around ourselves.
by "ooznozz"
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
0
fine by myself
(0.5
was i ever)
1
starting to talk
(1.5
not knowing how to talk)
2
common interests
(2.5
actually talking)
3
talking more first friends
(3.5
a springboard)
4
leaps and bounds - crickets chirping, fast and annoying
(4.5
finding friends in speed)
5
forgetting
(5.5
never truly forgetting)
6
meeting
7
desiring
8
friendship
9
evolving
10
losing count
1_
not needing to count
beyond numbers
an entire world
no numbers
reunions
infinity
better with others
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
I have all my materials, a bathingsuit and
everything my tutor gave me. I love
to dip my leg in the water up to my
knees to check if the fluids are good.
But last week, when I knew I would
have to jump, I sabotaged myself, o why,
did I have to climb the ladder of
that springboard, I could not hand
myself some help, now I could not
feel the water. I had to jump without
the checking, it felt rather nerve-racking.
So I took the leap of no return, only south.
I went in head first, lessons didn't help a lot.
It was never the brightest idea, selftuition.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
The Springboard.
I am a springboard
come on,try me out,
Or are you afraid of where i'll land you out there somewhere suspended inside a place where no one else is?
If this is your fear
then be gone from me
for I need you not.
So,
You are the coward I first thought you were.
And so,
Now that I have embarrassed you
Here you are.
And do you need my hands to help you climb aboard or are you able to do this on your own?
Now there, Don't you feel like you have accomplished something even though you ducked out in total fear,
And so,
off you go
Out there inside a place that I made just for you.
And by the way
there's no way out.
jo
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
The couch cushions buckle,
They want our shoulders to touch just enough
To remind me of sweet smiles and our unconventional love.
And for a moment I believe that inanimate padding, beckoning for soft skin to linger just a moment too far gone.
And for our mouths to come just too close, with only inches in-between innocence and ******
For I know he is my brother,
The one who wipes my tears,
And who supports my head on shoulders of infinite granite.
I love him enough to call him,
But not enough to call him my own.
But the cushions see no difference as the black hole springboard ***** the edges down and we move on the track toward each other.
There will always be days I need you like oxygen,
And without you breathing is pained.
Jealousy will always burn inside like hot stomach acid,
Eating the ribs, threatening my heart.
I wish to quell the jealousy, but never the need.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
*I will travel this world
just show me an airline
that allows payment in poetry
show me where words buy visas
I can be a hero
who restores peace at a battlefield
where the universe is
fighting the war of words
I can soar high in space
just show me where lines
are stitched into wings
show me how to synthesise words into feathers
I can leave my mark on Earth
just have to turn it into
a planet whose species
actually knows a poet's worth
I can move the world
just give me a springboard
where I can stand and spin
the rest of the globe the other way
I can make you proud
just learn to hear my silence loud
even if you don't practically
appreciate that I'm endowed
I can be a president
just show me a nation
whose politics ain't marred
with filth, controversies and lies
I can be whatever you want
just give me whatever I need
give me a people without greed
and I'll find you a Moses or Joshua
,that I'm sure
I can be anything
the ocean, the bridge, the home under siege
the road, the beast of burden that lifts the load
the pathfinder at the Red sea,
if I'm given the rod*
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 4:54 AM UTC
o monotony,
her hideous face allures me
so much that i might leap into the abyss,
a mediocre fall, in truth,
onto a springboard for disaster...
and not for want of false trying.
i watched a movie today that made me cry.
i can't remember the last time i cried in front of anyone.
i looked over at my mom's tear-soaked face and as
she looked back at mine,
she did not see me.
because i don't cry; right?
i'm sure she cried some more just at the sight of me.
i've gone and done it now.
exiled myself from the one thing i want,
the one thing i crave:
the one thing i need,
or else i'll wither, for a little while.
like a tomato plant that's been out
in the muggy alabama summertime;
like i forgot to water her for just a few days;
like the leaves are wilting brown, and gray, and i think:
i can save her.
and i water her day after day;
and i sometimes think i'll drown her
the way i drench her stalk.
and her roots.
and her leaves;
like i want her to live so i can live
and through her love to live instead
of living to love her.
and i have to wait and see if she'll pull through
and save me in return.
and at the end of this day,
of whatever kind it was,
i sang some songs of old,
and smoked until the ash
and dreams
were too soaked into my clothes
for my tear-soaked mother
not to notice.
the sunsets tick like a time bomb to redemption,
the seconds, like so much sweat,
mere atomisms,
symbols of this world's inconceivables,
indecipherable nothings,
whizzing 'round your halo;
rushing to drip down your fading silhouette
before it's shattered by einstein himself.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 4:57 PM UTC
*Once upon a time I met a wise man on this road
Called world who told me to avoid haste and go the toad
He said, "say hello before It's time for goodbye
Laugh out loud for there'll be time to cry
Listen while they talk but oppose with silence
Obeying all constants and paying attention to the variance
Take when you are given but never forget even yours shall be taken
Trust strangers more than friends,by friends you're forsaken
Go as far as the road takes you to know exactly what awaits
And roll with the wind, surf waves obeying every cyclone as it rotates
Life is grilled chicken,chew bones while you still have teeth
And if you're given the chance to kiss the lips, **** even the ***
Scream out loud against all odds if you want to be heard
Keep toiling uphill, don't despair for every situation's hard
Opportunity comes once in a lifetime for fools who ain't welcoming
Otherwise build more enchanting doors and she'll always be coming
The sky is only a lower limit for counting your success
Call it a springboard for the ambitious to set some pace for space
Difficult moments are like caterpillars, ensure they ain't dead
And someday they'll be beautiful butterflies instead
Make peace with your enemies, friends cannot be trusted
Otherwise words like treachery and betrayal couldn't have been invented
Say what you need to say, when you need to say it
Some simple words humans hold back when released restore a beat
Much as you get warmth from being embraced and cuddled
The same happens when you do embrace those in cold and hurdled
You may believe walking away from the risks is the answer to every question
But it's the ships that sail far from the shore that never escape mention
Do not waste time being troubled and contemplating your death
Worry more about how you're spending the billions of your breath
So go out there and squeeze sap of joy and contentment out the tree of your life
Every genius is just an idiot who ****** every moment like It were a wife*
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
The waves of the dam
near Ogosta Stadium are raging,
and the opponent of the Glory
is insecure and afraid.
Powerful choruses
the hosts sing
because the moment is coming
for a convincing win.
This is FC Montana.
Club with heart and a century of history,
with ups and downs flooded
always striving for the top and a better change.
With a school springboard for talent,
the only one that is free.
Coaches who believe in children
and in their future glorious successes.
The traditional colors are blue, white and red -
gathering people in a sacred union.
Blue hearts tremble in a fast rhythm,
expecting the match to conquer.
Small and big fans
with songs they strive,
the loyalty for their team to sustain
and give the necessary support.
Every day they long
for the strong emotions,
they share for the future.
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 8:32 AM UTC
you sit in the place
where nothing is ever wasted
each memory every act
wove into the fabric
this weaving so colourful
a garment of wonder
all that can hurt you
a springboard for loving
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
The landscape blurs often
as poets go about their business
crafting metaphors of unexpected delight
in forests of jangled words and visuals
unable to contain their excitement
at having conquered that crystallised
moment of love, hate and everything else
in a frozen sliver of time
inescapable from their minds excursion
into unknown unshaped lands.
Not all succeed in this endeavour
most try, few unable
to melt the metal in a crucible of colour
sound, taste or touch, to smell
emphasis and cocktail curiosity
bringing the best to the fore.
The newcomers tremble at the awe
of maestros watching their work
and dissolve in disasters.
There is the odd one that unknowingly
write splendid poetry
and when noticed and heaped with praise
often springboard into showcasing talent.
Reading the works of the masters
is always good. If they think it
is good then it must be good.
So many footsteps to follow and learn.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
your breath is the,
whisper,
of a higher being,
teaching me of
happiness unknown,
the pounding of my chest,
is the breakbeat,
of joy, in tune with,
ecstasy and unlimited desire,
lying awake, no
need for sleep, energy
renewed, by running
fingers through
your hair...
(lost in the black,
I've no need for them back...)
thirst for water, is satiated
by lips, so soft, your sweat,
sticks, to my soul,
your tears, when happy,
are my oasis, when sad,
reveal, an unknown drive...
I could dive into your
smile, springboard
off your perfection,
splash, in a beauty,
that I certainly don't deserve,
I could bask in your
intelligence, eloquence
and charm, never worried,
of the consequences
of their strength...
I would confine myself,
to rigid structures/rhyme schemes,
if it meant that I could keep you,
in my dreams...
I could love you for,
eternity,
reciprocated, I will,
you're all i want to see, breathe,
drink and feel...
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 9:43 PM UTC
i remember
that one time when you lay in my bed, still,
your head a mess of curls peeking from the sheets.
i smiled, warmed that you had chosen to stay, knowing
that i wouldn't have been able to ask you to on my own.
the movie ended, and
we crawled into bed, the springboard groaning
under the weight of two, the twin-sized duvet straining its
stitches to cover both of our bodies, although in the end
i let you have it, let you twist around in the sheets
like a kitten laying down to nap.
i came up with every excuse not to sleep that night.
loud noises, flight fright, stuffy air, but maybe
i just wanted to lie next to you with my eyes wide open.
my body took in everything: the restlessness, the
quiet moans, the perplexed face that looked very concentrated
on sleeping. sometimes you were so still i would lightly
touch your back, just to make sure you were still breathing.
do you remember?
that night that i looked down at you and cried.
i think you must have known because
when i crawled into your arms for solace, you welcomed me.
your hot skin burned mine,
and your heart beat so fast that i was still, and listened closer
(although thinking back on it now, it could have been
the watch i wear around my neck, mischievously ticking away in my ear.)
in that moment, before i let go out of embarrassment and overheating,
something in my heart clicked-
right then, i knew that i could have loved you.
the next morning, we shook hands, made our goodbyes short,
and laughed about it afterwards.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 10:22 PM UTC
The mob of eyes watch
from the stands the shivering thing
preparing its plummet.
But the thing’s eyes behold
the clouds swelling
with blackness, a storm
somehow trapped
within the gym, bouncing
the springboard
with merciless air.
It was once a lauded machine,
piercing through the water
like a diamond. But, now I see
some pale creature, its little head
watching waves in the pool
distorted by the storm’s will.
Boos and jeers mingle
with the storm’s howling.
I want the diver to dive,
to defy every force,
to sustain an elegance
before the destructive
everything. But it just stands
there, contemplating.
And now my voice joins
the disgruntled chorus.
Finally, the diver goes
slowly down the ladder.
The wave of boos overpowers
the storm’s wailing.
I look around, and next to me
is a child staring into his phone,
I grab it and launch it
into the air, but the phone
misses the diver and plops
into the water. I watch
the diver descend as the child
scolds me for my faulty throw.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
The tide is coming in.
Off in the distance, I see young swells building, aging, ignorant of whats to come.
Using the ocean floor like a springboard to launch itself into a force to be reckoned with.
All these individual elements, the ocean's collective energy divided among its waves; fractals of something much larger.
In their greatest moment, they come crashing down, seemingly ceasing to exist.
I stand on the shore, a bystander, observing the energy return to the source, ripples being created from the death of waves.
Their relevance lasting as long as the shores remain stained.
And in this moment, I feel better about my own mortality; knowing that my relevance doesn't end when my body dies, that my energy just goes to feed the swell of another wave to come.
And I remain a pillar, unmoved.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 9:46 AM UTC