"struggled" poems
when you understand my poems perfectly then,
their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the
nth
*reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together,
believing in the greatness of joyous frustration
some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,*
when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 9:47 AM UTC
There came a time in the history of Nigeria when she dreamed for independence,
There came a moment in the history of Nigeria when she groaned to gain freedom from the British;
There came a season in the history of Nigeria when she desired to obtain independence from her rulers.
The moment when she groaned for independence,
The season when she was ready to groam freedom;
The moment when she desired to be independent as a country.
The moment when she seeked her elites to stand up and fight for independence,
The season when she awaited the voice and appearance of her freedom fighters;
The moment whe she believed that independence was ready to answer the call of nature in her country.
The moment when she believed to find freedom and independence which as that missing part of her that made her a complete country,
The season when she trusted and believed in the treasure called independence;
The moment when she hoped and desired to be called an independent and sovereign nation in the history of the world.
The moment when she was expectantant of the mother called independence,
The season when nothing meant anything to her except for the father called freedom;
The moment when she still believe to be an independent country despite foreign exploitations,
with the understanding that she could still stand up on her feet as an independent country.
She believed that someone who understands her tears and passion for freedom and independence,
will arise and fight for her freedom knowing that he will never bear to see her travail in birth for independence.
The elites she knew not but believed was out some where fortiing and preparing themselves for independence and fight for freedom.
Independence she waited for like an expectand mother of a child,
Each step she took was believed to bring her closer to freedom and independence.
She believed in freedom and independence for her country and it's occupants, and not
colonisation and exploitation from the British colony.
She believed in fighting for freedom and independence than dying a coward,
She believed in her elites efforts to obtain her independence and sovereignty.
She expected her elites to stand up and rage for independence to freedom and sovereignty,
which they did when the opportunity and strategy came for them to uphold.
She believed that destiny will bring her independence and freedom,
when the hour of liberation from exploitation comes.
She believed that her pains and heart beat was felt and understood by her elites.
The name independence she was passionate about and the fame freedom she was desperate about.
The memories of colonisation she groaned to erase and the histories of exploitation she desired to filtrate.
The name independence she struggled to uphold and the gain freedom she strived to unfold.
Before her moment of independence,
she strived to make full proof of her countrie's ambitions,
she sort self asset and not self liability.
She seeked and desired independence and freedom from exploitaion which she got.
Her dignity and hour as a country was restored on that fateful day of October 1, 1960 whe she gained and famed her independence and freedom.
She believed in independence and freedom which she got.
The death of her elites and freedom fighters was never in vain.
This is Nigeria At 53 and she is still a sovereign and independent country.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
.
It's here again...
Heavy downpour...
I inhaled the rain,
cloying with petrichor.
Standing at my window,
looking out...
Street lamps struggled aglow.
People with brollies walking about.
My eyes reached out to the heavens,
tracing these glassy beads
as they'd free fall...
Falling by the sheets,
the pattering hastens,
periodically punctuated
by the thunder's call.
Mind is drifting and floating,
intently listening to a
million love wishes...
Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
In light entrapped splashes.
Raindrops descend and come,
into my still life tonight...
Won't you will me numb,
with your chilly bite...
Wide-eyed enamour...
Catching a stray droplet or two.
Riding the tail of a zephyr,
finding a place where
no trouble could ensue.
An errant gust blew
to meet with me.
The refreshing moist
meets my parted lips...
Inhaling deep in this reverie...
Into a sea of tranquillity,
my mind slowly dips...
Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
I would savour each and every one.
If the moist wind came and caresses
I would meet it in a tight embrace
till the break of sun.
What a sight...
Almost surreal it seems...
As the light from the surrounding
lamps dances playfully...
Dispersing and exploding into a
barrage of shattered beams.
Before it gets subdued in the drops
caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...
The drops would trickle
and fall before merging,
forming stranded puddles
unable to flow...
Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
An image...
Borne out of a fantastic show.
An image of beating hearts,
overlapping one another...
Speaking of consequential love
and feelings so true
Intertwined...
in the promise of forever...
Slowly retrieving itself into an...
image of you...
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
I bow to Lotus Feet, which gives me eternal peace
I am incomplete without your compassion
you healed my heart when it was thrown and shattered
you picked me up when I struggled to get through
you gave me hope when it seemed so out of reach
I am nothing without you
Where ever I go, found not alone
your glorious touch was always with me
Nectar drop of Gita, feels presents of yours
O! my Lord Krishna show me the light on my path
your Flute stirs the Universal Consciousness
And Gita enchants the Transcendental Consciousness
O! Lord of the whole Universe, Omnipotent Master of all
Grant me a glimpse of Thyself,Be pleased to come and live inside me
-----------------------------------: :---------------------------------
By : Karunakar Saroj
(In the love of Lord Krishna)
“hare krishna hare krishna krishna krishna hare hare hare rama hare rama rama rama hare hare”
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
I saw a glimpse of heaven on an old park bench
but you said the location didn't make much sense
and struggled to see the beauty of all the falling leaves,
so I sighed, and got up, asking if we should leave.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
When did it visit me?
I really don't know when.
It came out of nowhere,
I feel that it's a sin.
Naked in the shower,
washing up clean.
I felt this little lump,
scared and unforeseen.
Feeling all alone,
I looked up to the sky.
Fingers locked together,
I asked the Lord, "Why?"
Now, I lay in silence,
while the tumor grows inside.
Putting up these walls,
all I do is cry.
Months have gone by,
with the chemo and the draws.
The sickness took my *******
now that's the final straw.
It's been six months now,
I struggled for my life.
I beat the **** cancer.
I AM HAPPY, I WILL SURVIVE!!
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
I swam in your ocean, Anna.
I drank the salt of your skin
until it gave me hallowed sickness.
I told you,
I was never good at staying anyone's friend.
I spent three weeks convincing you I'd try.
When I didn't succeed, why did you act surprised?
You keep shifting shape.
And that isn't fair.
I got tangled in your weeds, Anna.
I struggled and howled,
you talked with warmth, ran fingers in my hair.
I told you,
I wouldn't live past thirty-five,
you said,
I wouldn't make it to twenty-five,
I told you,
I was evil,
you told me,
you were eviler.
I told you,
I was evilest,
you said,
**** superlatives.
I saw you drown yourself in yourself, Anna.
Wallowing in the cold wind
of one demented abecedarian.
You keep shifting shape.
And that isn't fair.
I told you,
to keep your feet moving,
you said,
I needed to stop talking,
I told you,
I was ready to marry you,
you said,
I would never escape my
ex-girl collection,
I told you,
Anna, if I can't have you
you're going to destroy you,
you said,
you'd like to see you try.
Let your waves crash against me,
let your wind carve,
I will say I love you,
until one of us dies.
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
I began to notice the
Fade.
Blotched ink, frayed seams
yet those who can't see
can't care
It was most familiar to a weary box
Which spent weekdays and nights
Traveling
To warm faces and comfort Sundays
I struggled when the
torch of permanent portions was passed to
me. Each word felt unworthy and full of
stain
I always strived for
realism
I used to clutch the cloth
carefully folding and unfolding
fearing the sendoff, knowing the return
would become rare
If at all.
it was a pricked finger and
remembrance
It was right to hideaway
At the time
I crumbled under the stage lights
The audience was expecting
More
All I could provide was
Myself
And like a spoiled child
I still pout
Demanding fame under my demanded
Street Lamps
Faded
Donated
What is, is
But. I do remember. Even if you figure the pants don't fit
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
When we feel sorrow,
When we've gone through unbearable pains,
When we're already on the verge of giving up,
When our hope was lost,
Always try to remember
The very reason why we struggled;
Our purpose and our dreams;
That would give us the strength
We need to carry on and still pursue.
These challenges and hardships will soon pass;
We must not see them as hindrances
But rather tools to make us stronger
And to bring the best out of us.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
The Victoria plum-tree that we planted this year
Is now full of blossom that looks lovely from here
The creamy white flowers and the brightest green leaves
Makes beautiful colour as Springtime relieves.
The garden of Winter, this year so wet
Does blossom herald a ‘best Summer yet.’
It’s quite true of course that village life so snug
Can have a tendency to make one feel smug
But for years our’s has struggled, it now has no shops
And a pub that’s near closure though it still sells the ‘hops.’
We don’t take it lightly the community here
For we know we could lose it which would cost us all dear.
It’s not really the money though the costs would be great
But there’d be no Village Hall and no Summer Fete
No chats with our friends over stiles by the field
Nor any more eggs from the local chicks yield.
We don’t take it lightly the community here
And we will fight to keep it which will cost us all dear.
©JRW2014
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
crooked steps
just a seconds glimpse behind
perfect trail before me, each step a gift
Then in the distance I caught sight
of something
I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun
locked embrace
and O' how completely I struggled
that entire night
and O' how the next and the next
and then the next I tasted
betrayal O' how vivid I
I relived the scene in visions,
questioning my eyes,
wondering your motives
I focused, I tried more and more
O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,,
then much closer I witnessed
then, you whispering to the sky
then you reached up your hands
upon the full moon's face
Pulling her down from heaven,
to your promises as you smiled
to deny us, O' I obsessed
You....
Kissing the sun, Promising the moon,
As I watched O' I glared
O' as did I wilt
I withdraw to obscurity
Beneath cover of your growing shadow
a silouhette to follow
making chase of the impossible
I can't give up
all i do is follow,
and look , and press on ,
just to get close enough
To tell you
You are still my sun,
Though you have another
and you are my setting moon,
my unobtainable,...
and my reasoning for every step,
every mile...
Now besought by the breadth
The severity of those betrayals
I hope you knew,
i followed and still do
coming to apprehend
my little tease,
my treasure, my liar
I give chase,
to how completely
how very far I would go
just to prove once and for all
I love you.
I shall, one day...
If and when the stars let me
they decide...
Even they see plainly my envy
As I have no mask
One motive,
Several unknown labels.
I contrast the brilliant
Silk strewn beauty once mine
Falling once, am I choosing
Leg by foot, by will and love
Outshine the sun and by this
Luna will turn it's attention
Perhaps this test of time
Practiced, lonesome patience
May one day return the gaze
Embrace in arms my desire
The only one I want and follow
My world.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
The first cold letters, alone on the page.
A quick pencil found them,
and the lively and beautiful syllables blossomed.
The pale book felt the pencil,
and the terrifying, hot words entered.
The lines grew, living and sensitive,
gleaming as never before,
and I knew the unheard lines!
First, a tiny and unselfconscious sound.
A noun struggled to appear among overpowering words.
A strong, golden adjective ran out,
a short, fragrant adjective, beautiful in the early spring.
A young verb grew among tiny blue conjunctions,
and a fortuitous adverb understood, instinctively.
The first sentence dreamed of trees, and a sad cloud.
It dreamed a grey rain,
and the tall trees felt the rain.
There was a first and unknown river,
imagined, inconsequential, like snow in summer.
A red bird glided beyond reach,
as if it had never happened.
The soft sounds fitted the lines,
and the quick bird cried,
Remember the short rain!
Remember the sad poem!
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
The tin warrior,
Stands tall and strong,
His creator looks in horror,
As his new creation has gone terribly wrong.
The tin warrior was suppose to have no heart,
But no, he came out with a part,
The tin warrior was the key to victory,
Now who ever wins the war is a pure mystery,
Who do they blame for this new creation?
Obviously the one who created all this frustration!
The tin warrior has a half a heart,
Not the best, but it is a start,
Instead of stone cold,
It became pure gold,
Only one person knows why,
And it most certainly wasn't the creator guy.
The daughter of the creator,
She was the one,
She may be a traitor,
But she knows what she had done.
The tin warrior was better than a weapon,
The daughter knew that,
She doesn't regret her choices for a second,
The tin warrior was even better than her father was aiming at.
The tin warrior was build for peace,
His sword pure white,
Not a speck of blood upon it,
To walk he used all his might,
To keep his heart pumping,
He struggled greatly,
What the daughter witnessed,
Make her quite shaky.
You see, a heart was meant for man,
And the tin warrior just wasn't it,
The tin warrior went out with a plan,
So he left a dent in this world,
Letting himself shut down,
Knowing his plan was unfurled,
Everything would be fine without him,
As he did his part,
The daughter was grim,
But knew this was just the start,
The tin warrior saved many souls,
And now it was her turn to achieve the tin warriors goals.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
A late hour indeed, darkness over land, but
A bright light shines from a moon above
As a shadow sweeps across the surface.
For a moment, it stands emblazoned, precarious
Adumbrated phoenix in the sky,
But it does not flare out.
Sweeping lower, the form resolves,
Alights narrowly on a fine branch.
For a moment, it struggles for balance
But soon it finds a niche, stands true;
Visage of wisdom in the night
But not without flaw
Not the swiftest, lacking in grace
Lost territories in cunctation.
Still, secure in its plumage,
Into the night, ready to fly:
Hunter poised in the trees
It soars aloft
Nearby, another branch inhabited
Not a vision this one, a voice.
A lighter weight, a softer presence
Harmonious to the calm
Tones of beauty to the air
It rings forth
Awhile, this one too struggled
It tried the songs of the mockingbird
Some rang esthetic, others strange,
But now its own song found:
Anthem sung for the heart
Chorus all may hear
Birds of the night. Dark to dawn
Their habits thus have been.
Now with the new morning,
A change in the season;
Mind and Song together to the sky
Light out for the lit horizon …
~D.B. Guy (May 2008)
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
It was almost 10 oclock, their eyes heavy as rocks, Erik and Jamal headed home
The fork in the road that they've always known to mean they tread on all alone
They made their embrace and started their pace and Erik did not hasten much
Jamal however was quick to endeavor, because mama had told him to rush
They walked their separate ways, reflected on their days, and coveted what tomorrow would bring
At that very moment, their train of thought stolen, by the bellow of sirens they sing
A large police van rolled upon each young man, and flashed a light on each of their face
They told Erik hurry, his mom needn't worry, yet they questioned young Jamal's pace
They told him get down, he got on the ground and struggled in his discomfort
Erik heard a bang in the night, that had gave him a fright, and thought to himself where'd it come from?
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
a honey bee stung me
not because I disturbed the remnants of his hive
or stepped on the flower he sat upon
I watched puzzled as he struggled on the ground
after burying his sword in my arm
thus sacrificing himself
in honor of his brothers and his queen
you see
he was the last
he had no voice to tell me of their fate
the destruction we'd wrought
on this docile creature
this creator of sweet nectar
the sting was brief and I brushed it away
and continued on
as we all do when only temporarily impeded
unaware
the sting about to come
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
Birds have their homes.
This bird made this world,
Its own home.
When other birds struggled
To make friends beyond their homes,
This bird made followers and comrades,
Transformed them
The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission
It put its foot on Argentina and
Set its victorious fight in Cuba.
Availed losses in Congo
Voiced and breathed every millisecond
Struggled recklessly for a mission,
Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds
Beyond borders.
The most superior of the superior birds
With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness
Put an end to this bird in Bolivia.
At the end, the bird failed
Fell a prey for other selfish birds.
As a root that fell and
Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power.
To give hope and shelter,
To all those who come under it,
For the near future and coming generations
The bird died!
But its mission ignited the phoenix flames
In its bird comrades.
Got them to fight for
Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred
That came racing towards them
As an inescapable bullet
Their hearts raised in spirit
When every drop of its thought
Hit them more fierce than
The world’s most powerful atomic bomb.
The bird died.
But its ideals for the mission
Rekindled the fires in their heart.
Being born an ordinary bird,
Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission,
Its thought and principles
Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission
Now, looking the most possible
Within an attaining distance
The bird lived its life,
An ordinary and the most challenging one.
But transformed a phoenix,
When it left the world.
And created more of
Daring Phoenix warriors;
Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Determined to near insanity,
the boy fearlessly joined
the last standing army of humanity.
With his two closest friends by his side,
he shaped his fate into something
only he could decide.
For years he struggled with the other recruits,
but the dream of freedom planted inside
grew from a seed into a tree with deep roots.
And while he worked until he could no longer stand,
that angry little boy
turned into a man.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
You may think it's funny.
Plain teasing.
Just girls having fun but you don't know.
You don't know what I've struggled with.
You weren't there all those nights when I cried myself to sleep because I was not thin like them.
All the times I would skip meals and tell my mom I had eaten elsewhere.
All the times I survived on water for the whole day.
All the times I came this close to sticking a finger down my throat and emptying the contents in my stomach.
It took me so long to feel okay and comfortable with myself.
Until you said that word.
It's funny how one word could have such an impact on me but you don't know my struggle.
When I got home after that, all I could see in the mirror was fats.
I had begun to determine my self worth by my calorie intake and the size of my waist.
I hated myself once again.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
It's nine in the morning,
can't open my eyes,
don't wanna come out of the dreamy world,
I wanna be asleep,
I wanna be static,
if sleep is a drug,
I am an addict.
Most comforting is the morning sleep,
my eyes won't open,
I struggled to sit up,
but crumbled back again.
Have to be in the office,
the clock ticked
If sleep is a drug,
I am an addict.
let me lay in the bed,
don't feel like picking up my phone,
Whatsapp texts are unknown.
the sun is up, I don't wanna be.
take a leave or be awake and go,
my mind is in total conflict.
Yes sleep is my drug,
And I am an addict.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 8:40 AM UTC
You are indescribably beautiful.
More than your breathtaking smile.
Or the way you look at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.
You are beautiful in this supernatural way that makes me yearn for an explanation.
It is such a beauty that makes me feel complete.
A tremendous burst of euphoria and bliss just by the thought of you.
Your bewitching emanation that makes my soul electrify.
As if we were split in a ****** world to search for one another.
Your immense beauty that is far beyond the physical.
It makes me suffer in the most amazing way.
Forces me to watch every careful step,
To not shatter the perfection of a thousand lifetimes.
A beauty that makes the world seem brand new and brilliant.
You make the flowers bloom fuller,
The grass greener,
And the birds sing finer.
You are the deity my heart has struggled to search for,
The divinity my soul has craved,
And the magnificence I have only dreamt of.
Your presence makes this life hold a more significant meaning.
You are the loveliest being,
I have ever had the pleasure of sharing an existence with.
You cause this intoxication in my very soul,
And make my heart skip every beat in the most tremendous way.
You have brought new meaning to my life.
Things that were once a blur now makes sense.
You have given love "at first sight" a true meaning.
~S.C. Kelley
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:36 PM UTC
Visiting a friend on his Quarter
Horse farm, the day sunny and warm.
We walked out to his brood mare
pasture, the ladies were running,
awaiting and sunning, anticipation
in the air and their nervous behavior.
Noble his name, consistency his game,
a reliable aging stallion, sire to many
fine sons and daughters, years of proven
pairings, came halter led and prancing.
He had their scent and his spirit awakened,
the three ladies believed to be in season began
to snigger and whinny, their excitement growing
as the stallion entered their grassy domain,
the dance was about to commence.
The handler led the big fella' forward,
both sides began their quizzical inspections.
one young filly more aggressively willing
than the others. Noble excitedly returned
her heightened interest.
Within a few minutes Noble began to rear up,
he knew his job, his august appendage extended,
trying several times to mount his mate intended,
adrenaline pumping his back legs began to shake,
on his fourth failed attempt the eager proven
suitor fell to the ground, rolled over, paused for
a moment and struggled to stand on unsteady legs.
Appearing even somewhat embarrassed.
The mare moved aside, kicked her hind legs in
the stallion's direction, whinnied loudly and
ran away. Rejected the old stallion stood looking
perplexed, failure was something unknown to him.
His spirit was willing but his aging body was weak.
The old stud slowly returned to the barn, his head
hung low, no longer prancing.
For every time and being there is a season, aging
is part of the cycle, like this stallion, we all reach
this moment of understanding. Sometimes gracefully,
most times with stunned disbelief.
From Noble to nothing in one afternoon.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Look behind you,
What you may see may disturb you.
What you once were
isn't what you are now.
It's not the physical appearance; the way you dress
Not the tone of your voice,
the change in your character –
But the difference in your demeanor
You've developed from a carefree soul
to a figure you never imagine yourself being
The lines on your face,
developed from years of hardship;
days in which you endured, prevailed
fell back down, got back up again
Weeks in which you worked day to day,
Just to make ends meet. Months in which
You struggled to keep up on your feet.
Your past self imagined the world would be cold and dark.
In every way, you see it's worth it.
Worth each waking morning.
This may not be what you wished for
When you were younger...
...It's all a part of living life.
We eat, we drink, we live, we die.
Pay our debts to survive.
We have to live through hardships,
To make it throughout life.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
On this day 70 years ago they stormed across the sand
Boys of many nations to remove the tyrants hand
Heros all those boys so young who shed their blood for us
In that ****** fight for freedom
Across the sand they struggled neath a hail of shot and shell
Never glancing backwards as around them comrades fell
Fear was in their eyes, terror in their hearts
Many never made it and twas on foreign sand they died
Yes they died to give us the freedom that we have got this day
They died to free the world, for us they made the play
Boys from ever walk of life crossed the beaches there
Office clerks and farmers and the ones who cut our hair
Yes they were heroes all who gave their lives for us
But lets not forget the few who made it possible
The girls who made the shells, the men who built the tanks
They were the unsung heroes
They have also have earned our thanks
Without their dedication to the task they had in hand
Many more would have lost their lives on that shell torn blood stained sand
They to can hold their heads up high, they knew they did their bit
In bringing freedom to the masses when they broke the tyrants grip
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC