Poems about began


№ 1205298

~We will return to where We began~

Blinded by greed Nations will compete to be the superpowers
Banks with billions of riches all vying for top white collar posts
Surrounded by skyscrapers, superb infrastructures, hi tech progress
Deluxe hotels, amusement parks, multiplex to entertain us
Automobiles, Urbane gadgets, suave robots to work for us
Every one owning super jets and rockets to go around
Still to quench our thirst not a drop of fresh water
Still to satisfy our hunger not a morsel of food
Still to breathe a whiff of air not to be found
Money and machines we cannot cook and eat or boil and drink
Education to better mankind morally and mentally we failed
Tomorrow everywhere starvation pollution devastation making us living cadaver
We will return to where we began to toil in the soil to be a contented cultivator
Back to our Mother Nature whom we hurt and forgot embracing her forever

began,  return.

Author: adhi das
Date: 02/04/2020

№ 1203775

Not Sure How It Began, Is Now, Or Ever Will Be

How should I know I am real?
You or I? Maybe that's just all inside
And I don't even know what I feel
The stars, sky, moon, clouds, sun, or rain?
Can't even tell the difference anymore
Because life and dreams, they all seem the same
Is it what is all right now? But that goes so fast
When I am done,
It will all be just the past
If the future is just a made-up mindset
Should I wait for you?
Can't put my mind to rest
I wonder if all of that limitlessness out there
The people we meet and all we remember and see
Is just the limitlessness imagination inside here...

began,  sure.

Author: Frankie Gestone
Date: 01/04/2020

№ 1203724

When it began

It all started in high school
Man I was a fool back then
Wanting to find that sweet heart
So ready to be committed
To the forces unseen
And spend all four years with my boo
Then I met you
First day already trying to impress
Hoping to leave a everlasting effect
And like a test I past
Sitting next to each other now in class
Laughing, flirting having a blast
Every one said we should be
But then you betrayed me
There was another
And you wanted me to be the back up
Your plan B
And since that day you change me
Into the guy I am
You change my life in the worst way
Girls I don't trust them
Only use them
I could never love them
An enemy to my own emotions
Cuffed them and threw them in the back seat
Put them behind bars
There's sentence an eternity without love
With no bail
Meet a girl give her hell
Then move on to the next female
Oh well guess this is how it's got to be
Plus my friends and no good dad were so proud of me
Playa playa
That's what the called me
But playing this game
Drains the brain
Guess if I never met you
The world would've never known the worst part of me
And now it begins


Author: devante moore
Date: 01/04/2020

№ 1202372

Can we live when we've already began to die

This world is so cruel,
You live only to know
You are going to die

Relationships are pointless
In a moment, they could be
Gone anyway. Why try?

Silly people, wasting time
On dreams and goals
My religion says this world
Is over anyway.

No goals will be reached
And your life after college
Never happened. Do
What you will with

I've come to know
Death as well as anyone
It seems as if Death has
Gotten lonely, taking my
Friends for its enjoyment.

You only live as much
As you die.
You can try, but that's
Just it. So the question
Remains, was this the
Purpose of all?

began,  die,  live.

Author: Shanijua
Date: 31/03/2020

№ 1199000

How I began the novel of which 8 other pages are posted here.

When you live in the suburbs like I do and like I always have,
The same house even, there is an intimacy that develops- real or imagined -with your neighbors. It's like those dreams we sometimes have about people and places that really do exist but it just ain't quite what it's supposed to be, but we accept it anyway, because it's a dream and in that ethereal realm of dreams -that's what you do. You accept the normally unacceptable,
For instance, who could ever have imagined that the Rosses, who live at 1423, would turn out to be secret swingers. Mr Ross is 62 years old, probably five foot nine with a horseshoe ring of white on white cotton- fluff hair, perched on his round pink scalp, over his round pink face, accentuated by round -wire rim- glasses perched on his nose and a little white mustache that hangs under his nose - like an afterthought.
Mrs Ross is a slightly rounded little woman that always wears flowery dresses and those god awful, tortoiseshell glasses secured to a string around the neck. Like secretaries and librarians often wear. Her hair would also be white, if not for her habit of having it dyed blue, as is a habit of many suburban housewives of her age.
So it would be impossible to ever imagine this pair of- short, jolly -suburbanites as secret swingers, but it's true. I know. Because I've seen them at it. About 2 years ago- while Billy Joe Randall, Macy and me were( oh yeah my name is Rance Reed short for Clarence -but don't call me that ) anyway; where was I -oh yeah -we were down at the little pocket park on Grove Street- sitting behind a hydrangea bush-smoking a fatty and telling each other lies that no one believes anyway, when we saw the Rosses walking toward the park, holding hands as they were often doing.
Mr Ross looked into the park- suspiciously - as if he were afraid a hit- man were hiding somewhere. There for a moment I thought he could possibly smell our smoke. , but seemingly satisfied with his inspection, the two of them strolled -hand in hand - across the grass to the playground area where the spring horses, the merry-go-round and swings were. Mrs Ross perched herself on the rubber sling- like seat of a swing as Mr Ross pushed her to get her started and then he climbed aboard the one to her left. Using that see-saw motion you use getting himself going and then the two of them sat there swinging and laughing together -for almost an hour. Sometimes we could hear Mr. Ross go varoooom varoooom and Mrs. Ross would go wheeeeee. It was the funniest thing that I've ever seen and the three of us sat there making jokes and laughing at them. Three 23 year old wasted wastrels thinking that laughing at this spectacle was the right thing to do - a little while later, as a funny little melancholy wave washed over us like a sea tide, we all stopped laughing. All three of us -I believe - realized that jealousy is a hard pill to swallow while you're laughing. Looking back at that now I'm a little ashamed of myself. So yeah, the Rosses were secret swingers, but you would never know it by looking at them--- Oh! You thought I meant the other kind of swingers. Didn't you? -anyway; where was I? - Oh yeah. - I believe they were sort of embarrassed about the whole thing so I've never said a word to anyone about what I saw -until now.
Then there is old man George (call me GL ) Angleton and his wife Sarah. Theirs was the big grey split -level rock and cedar house that dominates the very end of the cul-de-sac we live on, called Grayson circle. An enormous porch dominates the front and that is the first thing anyone - turning onto Grayson Circle- sees after making the turn. The Angeltons house was always the most decorated house on the block, no matter the holiday, especially at Christmas- when a raucous mix a snowman reindeer and especially Santa's, gather under the thousands of twinkling lights each year. There were so many Santas on the lawn, on the roof, along the porch, one climbing the chimney so that- I always thought - it looked like the gathering together of Santa's for a Santa gang fight.
Halloween was another special time with the Angeltons when they gave out more -kinds and just plain more -candy to all the kids than anyone else for blocks around or even miles around One year Mr. Angleton gave a comic books along with the candy to every kid that came to the door.
So who could have ever imagined that just 6 months ago, 2 days before Christmas, Mr Angleton, who was always of sweet disposition and always quick to give you a warm smile or a compassionate pat on the shoulder would shoot and kill his wife Sarah and then turn the gun on himself? NOBODY!!!
Certainly not me.
No, you cannot just see the outside of a house, with the flocks of flowers, the nice neat lawn and charming old rocking chairs on the porch and really know anything about the heights of happiness or the depths of despair that live or die behind the front doors.
When I was growing up, you sure couldn't have done any of that at my house. Looking back now I realize that G. L. didn't put out any decorations last Christmas.
I should have noticed that. Yeah, I really should have noticed that!

began,  novel,  posted.

Author: Keith W Fletcher
Date: 28/03/2020

№ 1196914

All True Stories Began with Real Lives

I really just want some ideas on where to go with this. Please and thanks!

A winding trail gradually tapered off into the woods
Where the trees bit the hazy Autumn dusk
Branches protruding upwards
Like the crooked teeth
Of an aged jackal.

Fragile creatures
The likes of birds and small rodents
Dart into the dark confines of the daunting forest.

Like the fleeting wisps of dry, rolling leaves they flee
Hoping to find shelter beneath the massive expanse
Of huddled, wilted trees.

Just in time before the weight of the setting sun
Could fall upon their tiny heads
To extinguish the tiny capsule of air
From their little lungs
In the same way
The last flickering silvery and golden webs of light
Were extinguished from the sky
Giving an amiguity to where the horizon ended and
The Heavans began.

began,  lives,  real,  stories,  true.

Author: Brandon C Williams
Date: 26/03/2020

№ 1190713

The Day That Began Again

First the left
And then the right
Jump a bit
Because your pants are tight

Take a deep breath
Then button it up
Push in the pockets
Suck in your gut

Look at the clock
It's the same time as usual
Look through your shirts
That one's got a new hole

Hold up your bra to the light
And study it close
It looks a bit worn
But eh, it ain't gross

Brush your hair harshly
There's no other way
For when it's that thick
You don't have all day

Now grab your bag fast
You didn't forget anything
Hold in your tears
It's just the same other day

You wish for adventure
You wish for a change
You wish for a dad
Who cares less for your grades

And more for your sanity
For he's seen how it's crushed
But he still acts the same
His demands still rushed

His patience run low
And his words all loud
His fist swinging so
Yet no damage is done

Except yes there is
As your days fly on by
It all hurts so much
That you can't even cry

Cause he'll hear you again
And still not really care
He'll call you a fake
Like your just someone there

Taking up space in his house
Not space in his heart
Ignoring your writing
Rolling his eyes at your art

It's so upsetting
That you're left simply to words
Words that aren't heard
But you still feel their curse

You linger so long
It's poison to your soul
And even hearing his voice
Is making you old

And tired of this life
That is no life at all
Just a day stuck on repeat
With you growing a bit more tall

Your skin may darken
And the bags under your eyes may sharpen
And your legs might get bigger
And your heart might get darker

But it's the same concept
That it's always been
It's still the same day
It's still the same pain

began,  day.

Author: Ann Nicole
Date: 20/03/2020

№ 1183254

And the accusers began to project their own faults onto others

Floundering in your own accusations gives me no pleasure
Except of course the sheer pleasure of the freedom of truth.

began,  faults,  project.

Author: nivek
Date: 13/03/2020