Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details |
Dedicated to the 2000 National College Football Champions, the Oklahoma Sooners
Over fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan
Watched and reveled in their glories, every one;
But there’s no more glorious “Sooner Magic”
Than the Red October Run.
The new millennium's first football season,
Excited Sooners fans’ hopes did soar.
They had tasted victory in Bob Stoops’ first year;
Now, they wanted - no, expected - even more.
There was a glint of promise in Bob’s eyes,
Strength and confidence in his every word.
“Our Team has shown improvement”, is what he said;
“We’ll win!” is what fans heard.
By September’s end, the Sooners were 4 and O,
A “cupcake schedule” some anxious fans would say;
Twenty-two days in October would rule their destiny.
Texas, K-State, Nebraska, the teams they’d have to play.
“OU’s October is a gauntlet”, said ESPN;
“Play #10 and #2 and #1…and win”?
So, on a rainy Saturday morning in Dallas,
The Red October Run would begin.
The Texas State Fair at the Cotton Bowl,
Fans were welcomed by Big Tex.
They screamed, “Go OU!” and “Hook’em Horns!”;
But none could imagine what happened next.
Heupel was a dominating General;
The Sooners Offense, his relentless troops.
Calmus and the Defense assured a total rout,
The Coach of the Day was Bob Stoops.
Sooners fans were wild, delirious with glee;
But Bob seemed focused and sedate.
“We’ll enjoy this victory Sunday;
Then Monday, we’ll prepare for Kansas State”.
No time to revel in the Glory, #2 was tough.
Better than the Huskers? The possibility was real.
The road to #1 went through Manhattan,
And the Sooners would have to win it on the field.
The sportscasters had a field day.
Last year’s “coaching coup” was news again.
Beasley versus Heupel was “The Match-up”.
Could Heupel evade K-State’s awesome defense
and find a way to win?
Again, Heupel and his troops met the challenge;
And as the Sooners “D” assured a hard fought win,
Every Sooners fan’s heart was stirred.
Could our Sooners be “Big Red” again?
Mighty Nebraska, #1, was coming to Owen Field.
“Biggest OU - Nebraska game in years!” Corso said.
It would be 1 versus 2, a heralded gridiron epic
For the coveted title of…”Big Red”.
It was OU’s biggest home game ever.
The campus was alive with vendors and would-be
Every Sooners Fan’s heart was pounding.
Could the smell of #1 stoke the Sooners' fires?
The Huskers struck so quickly.
At 14 to nothing, Sooners fans were stunned.
It was shaping up to be a long, long day;
And it wasn’t going to be fun.
Quickly tho’, Heupel rallied his Sooners troops.
They scored and scored and scored again.
The Sooners “D” built a Wall at the 50,
And would not let the Huskers in.
Winners, the Sooners ran and jumped with glee.
Fans flooded Owen Field, milling all around,
Praising and hugging their Sooners Heroes.
They even tore the goal post down.
Now #1, the Sooners had won it on the field.
Their preparation had been well taught.
Bob Stoops, all his great coaches and assistants,
Took pride in how the Sooners fought.
Someone once said, “Everyone loves a winner.”
Everywhere you looked confirmed it’s true.
OU flags fluttered. Decals, hats, and clothes abound.
Come November, the Sooners and their Fans
had been renewed,
There’s no slighting the importance of Red October.
The Sooners came together as a Team.
No doubt too, without “The Red October Run”
Their National Championship would still be just a dream.
For the next five games, it was simply unacceptable
For the Sooners to even think that they could fail;
And, tho’ Heupel played injured, they won the Big 12 Championship;
Great Sooners Defense had prevailed.
But no one gave these Big 12 Champs the slightest chance to win
Against the mighty Seminoles of Florida State.
The Heisman Trophy Winner was their quarterback
And their defense was touted to be great.
At the coin toss, Team Captain Torrance Marshall
Said to their quarterback in words most serious and sure,
“You took our boy’s trophy”. Then he smiled,
“Now we’re gonna take yours”.
The Sooners “D” was everywhere and completely shut them down;
And, when Quentin Griffin’s touchdown closed the door,
Their quarterback knew that Marshall’s words rang true;
The not-so-mighty ‘Noles had not been allowed to score.
Yes, Bob Stoops and his Sooners knew the challenge:
To win Each game ‘til Every game’s been won;
Win for Sooners and their Fans the unchallenged right
To revel in the Glory of being #1.
Yes, my Sooners Team goes on and on,
Different faces, different names;
But these Sooners Champions will be well remembered
For the Season they won Every game.
Undefeated National Champions!
Before October, who would have ever dreamed?
Why, just last year, we didn’t even know the players' names;
And now, they’re College Football’s Greatest Team.
To overcome all adversity and rise to every challenge,
The reward for such a feat is being #1;
Their path to Glory born of a Sooners Legend
Called The Red October Run.
Long poem by
Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |
Pink- Pink- Pink-
Every peak has its own attractions,
Like the mountains,
The mounts of a woman,
Have always remained,
Her pride possessions. 01
It has the charms,
More intoxicating than wine,
As it reveals the beauty,
Of a woman's alluring binds. 02
These mounts gives,
The wings of imagination and colors,
In the mind of an artist,
And they arise the passion,
In lovers mind.03
Their rise and fall,
Has shaken great empires,
Under their cool and peaceful shade,
The dreams of a child form shapes. 04
Its serenity has given birth,
To most pious and holy figures on Earth,
And their warmth have shaped the dreams,
Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05
They feed life giving milk,
To every new born light,
Every time they laugh and cry,
These lofty mounts,
Help in forming shapes,
When the child begins its story. 06
But these pride possessions,
Of a woman,
These lofty inspirations,
Of Poets, Writers and Artists,
These magical charms
Which often become more attractive,
Than the face of a woman,
A wide spread pollution,*
Which is the unwanted gift of
Modern living and
They are also the gifts,
Of worst living habits,
Adopted by thousands,
and millions of woman,
As they fall prey,
Before the charms,
And shows of modern generation. 07
Many such wonderful women,
Who are in the grip of this pollution,*
Have brought this curse on them,
Of their own follies and errors. 08
Many such suffering women,
Can really get rid of,
From the curse of this pollution,*
If only they can show,
The courage to adopt,
The natural way,
Of living and breathing,
Possible under the boon like shade,
Of real Yoga. 09
Of the distortions,*
Of their pink pink ribbons,
Are mainly the results,
Of their own creations,
And these results,
Are not something,
One should blame,
The destiny or God every time. 10
Some of the serious reasons are,
Not caring rightly,
For one’s own pride possessions,
And the lack of,
A cool and calm mind,
From morning till night,
All the junk foods and wine. 11
Beyond all time limits,
your peaceful mind. 12
Running and more running
To catch others,
So that you may not leg behind. 13
And madly crying,
For more and more wealth,
Even if you have sufficient,
For your life time. 14
Are the reasons,
Which invite the pollution,*
To sow its rotten seeds,
The enchanting valley,
Amid the mounts of,
Pink pink flowers. 15
Can still be derived out,
With the little practice of Yoga,
But it remains untouched,
And unsung about,
By most of the modern women. 16
These otherwise elegant women,
Regularly face the problems,
Lack of peace,
And sound sleep.
Which ultimately take away,
And coolness of mind,
Resulting in strengthening more,
The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17
Still it is not too late,
If they can only change,
Their life styles,
Their eating and drinking habits,
And adopt from today,
The way of natural living,
The boon like Yoga. 18
As the practice of Yoga,
Not only add years to your life,
But life to your years, as well. 19
Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012
*Pollution- The other name of Cancer.
Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may
write to me on my yahoo mail id: firstname.lastname@example.org I
would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply
you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor
Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga.
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745
IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor
Ravindra K Kapoor
Long poem by
Darian Rehder | Details |
The signs started in December
When she started waking up in tears each night
She was a normal girl with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes
She had plenty of friends and a loving family with just one thing missing
Days passed by and turned into weeks but only felt like a few seconds
Her life just whizzed by faster and faster until it was just a whirr in front of her eyes
Darkness filtered into her heart and mind until she didn't know if she could go on
But she had to. She couldn't let her mother and her sister drown in this same pain
She wouldn't let them.
She pushed all the darkness into the depths of her own heart
In hopes to save the hearts of the two people she had left
Because what else was there to live for now?
The rest of her world had crashed and her mother and sister was all that was left
She wouldn't let them drown in pain too.
She watched as they started to heal in her loving arms
Their hearts started to lighten up once more
But hers was just as dark as it was before
And growing darker day by day
But she wouldn't let that stop her.
Suddenly a year had passed... and then two
It only seemed like seconds to her but everyone else started moving on
Her mother and sister no longer needed her nurturing care
But she needed someone to hold on to
With nothing left for her to take control of, the dark pushed past her boundries
It found a way into her soul
Until all she could see was dark and no light
But her mother and sister were healed now
They didn't understand
The tears came back and engulfed her soul
Bit by bit until she wasn't sure why she was still alive
The grief took over like knives
Piercing her skin over and over and over
It hurt so much.
She started to wonder what it'd look like to be dead
She could see him again if she was
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to endure this pain?
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to live knowing she'd never see him again?
So she started to hate herself
All that negative energy was starting to take toll
Everyone around her was breathing while she suffocated more and more by the second
She wished she'd just choke already instead of living in constant pain
If no one would put her out of her misery, she'd have to do it herself
She couldn't see any light anymore
So she grabbed the pill bottle off the shelf and just hoped it wouldn't take long to die
Deep down she still had a spark of light, but she just couldn't find it
And now it was too late in her mind to change, to turn back and try to look deeper
She was done living.
That's when people started to notice that everything wasn't as peaceful as it seemed
They started to see how deeply depressed she had become
They wanted to help her see the light again before it was too late
So they sent her away to see doctors and to take pills to make everything better
It was a start.
She didn't see a change at first but suddenly she could think clearly
Maybe what they were doing was actually going to help her see the light again
Yes, she still wanted to die, but maybe that wasn't the only option anymore
They cared, and behind all their own problems they were trying to understand
They really were trying
Six months longer she would be treated and cared for
Until suddenly she was sent home from her treatment and care with a smile on her face
She had a new perspective
Someone had helped her ignite that spark in her heart until it was a glowing ember
She had been reborn
Sometimes you have to be able to experience the worst of it
To come back shining brighter than before
And if she had died that cold day in October, she wouldn't of ever seen the best of it
Or known that it would get better
and it did!
And she now sits at her laptop, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart
It's never been an easy road and it won't ever be
But at least she knows she's lived through the worst
And it can only get better from here
So whenever she feels lonely or gets back into that dark spot again
She can look back on what she's learned and can read this poem
And remember that she survived the darkest depths of depression
And she will continue to survive it as long as she lives
Because she is stronger now than she ever was before ?
Long poem by
Eileen Manassian | Details |
I know you want to appear tough
You want to pull off cool
Being a strong macho man
That’s part of the unspoken rule
I know you act so indifferent
When you see me passing by
But when I happen to turn around
I see raw hunger in your eye
And when I stand close beside you
I hear you inhale my perfume
I can tell it’s so hard for you
Your work to try to resume
And then there is the silence
As you search for words so bland
You try for nonchalance
As you steady your shaking hand
I glow inside as I read
All those little tattle tale signs
You are so intent to hide
That your heart’s already mine
When we all piled up in his car
I had to lean back on your chest
The erratic beat of your heart
Made me know I’d won the test
I recall you opened the door
To let me in to the evening of glee
I wish you could have seen your face
Your eyes were devouring me
You tried to talk to other girls
But your eyes never left my face
You were staking out your claim
Your reactions I could trace
Oh, that sweet surge of power
To know that I could dominate
That I could turn strength to weakness
Because your desires I captivate
I made my way to where you stand
A slow and swaying stride
You looked at me perplexed
When I asked you to go outside
I wondered if they could feel
The burning heat in your stare
If they could see the passion
That in your eyes was laid bare
We stood outside in silence
As we drank in the city lights
The moon and the stars were alive
Lending magic to this night
I had become impatient
To claim sweet victory
When I turned my face to you
I saw you looking down at me
Your craving was unguarded
Your sheer presence made me melt
You took a step much closer
Fate a different hand had dealt
“Is there something the matter?”
Your voice caressed me with concern
I couldn’t find words to answer
I felt my cheeks quickly burn
I knew your pride was wounded
For I once already said, “NO.”
But now you were my obsession
How could I let you know?
With feigned calmness you stood waiting
Self-preservation mode in the way
I frantically clutched at the moment
Not knowing what I could say
It was now or lose you forever
My breath came out in a gasp
“I really want you to…..kiss me
To claim me as yours at last.”
The words were barely out
When your lips closed over mine
You crushed my body gainst yours
Made me lost to the world and time
I tasted pure delirium
My senses all aflame
There was no way to even try
Your flames of passion to tame
But you pulled away one moment
Fighting to regain lost control
I could see pride harden your face
“Do you think I have no soul?
You tortured and you crushed me
Teased me with each toss of your hair
Do you know how long I have waited?
Am I just a toy or some dare?”
My life now hung in the balance
For could I try to make you see
That my heart was now so ready
For your love to set me free
I stood inches from your face
“My love, this you cannot miss”
I kissed you with passion of legions
“Your answer is here in my kiss.”
Sweet reader, I’ll pull the curtain
On all the wonder of that night
One of passion’s greatest triumphs
To rival legends saw the light.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Long poem by
Faith Dye | Details |
My brother is and will always be my Memorial Day
Of course I will always respect every warrior that fought let's say
My brother joined the Marines to get away from our mother at seventeen
she was mean, mentally ill, bossy, and out of her mind in between
so serving his country during the Vietnam War felt better to him
leaving all of us behind, going over there with the body count wasn't a whim
we all cried as he went out the door
mom cried the most and I was just floored
because she yelled and screamed at him all of the time
but today looked like she loved him so much and wanted him to stay behind
if he knew this and didn't have to think that she didn't care for him
his journey may have been so much better with more care and begin
to think of her differently like a loving mom
then when he was detecting land mines and hearing bombs
he may have been more comforted by love
looking at the stars up above
wearing peanut butter on his feet
in the monsoon season
as not give the rats a reason
to bite his flesh and hurt
they could drive you berserk
and the tunnels pray tell
they were a living hell
they would come out anytime
no reason no rhyme
hand grenades in hand
blow you up on their land
It was always a dangerous situation
you never knew when injury was a completion
you'd blacken your face up and find a tree
and sit real still and listen to everything carefully
because one wrong move could mean your life so
you had to be super aware to all the facts before you could go
to sleep for a matter of minutes perhaps a little longer if your lucky
things sure aren't the same since that plane ride all the way from Kentucky
so they put their helmets on their rifles in case they were shot at
they'd think that was their head and they would miss them flat
out right was the goal only some of them knew
and some of them snuck around to the front of you
to blow off your real head and shatter you
and if anyone say "medic" they'll shatter them too
it's just too destructive being there
you're a trained killer and it just isn't fair
You don't believe in Memorial Day, you say?
Don't stay in the states, we should run you away
too many men gave their lives for you to keep you free
we should throw you in prison lock the door and get rid of the key
this celebrates men like my brother, my cousins, good men that didn't come back
the audacity of you to talk bad about this day, disrespect them, the deck was stacked
not in their favor, believe me, we should've sent guys like you, their bodies hacked
to scare them, I wish I could scare you
no your not even worth it to do
anything to drop down to your kind
just remember when you look behind
you, proud men gave you freedom believe it or not
you ignorant bastard you must have forgot
your daddy, your grandpa, somebody you know
fought a war for you and us and you show
to the rest
Happy Memorial Day!
Thanks to all you Women and Men whom keep and kept us safe
Long poem by
Robert Ball | Details |
Horrendous events took place today in a small eastern town.
People across the nation look at these events in shock and frown.
A lunatic gunning down children grownups taking his own life in the end.
Looking to the whys? How come? The reason is simple the devil is causing this alarming trend.
Our Father foretold of these times suffering, killing, in the Holy Bible. Why are we surprised?
The Father tells us that many horrors will inflict man; man by himself without the laws of God will never survive.
Our nation supposedly the greatest on earth has turned from the Creators laws.
To ignore Him to transgress, man has lost his way, and it really does make our Creator angry and it sticks in His craw.
This event wasn’t caused by God; the evil deceiver corrupter of all that is good has begun.
Our nation in debt our families in disarray love has taken a back seat true evil has started his run.
God tells us fear Him, our Creator knows what is to come.
Our country will be laid to waste. Our pride will be broken as our will has been broken and we are done.
Those who study the Holy Bible know that the Horseman of the apocalypse are riding and they are here.
God tells us very lovingly He is the one we should really fear.
Man’s time is coming to his end; God is who we should fear xxx rated movies, homosexuality, and gay pride corrupt politicians.
My God look at history Rome fell into lust and depravations, now their history is in museums.
No morals, no fear of the almighty killing and terrorizing innocents at will.
In a split second 20children and six adults were attacked at school, a maniac willing to kill.
The evil one, Satan, Lucifer is laughing at us and slapping God and man in the face.
He has one agenda, to conquer God and take control of the human race.
God blessed us with this land we wrote on our dollar bills “In God We Trust.”
Well we see how this has worked out’ we as a supposedly Christian nation are a total bust.
Colorado, theatre killings, Connecticut school massacre children and innocents slaughtered ending with the last one a coward taking his own life.
This my brothers and brethren is just the beginning the world in total chaos, our nation in moral strife.
Our only chance, turn to God ask for his forgiveness, obey His commandments and look to our Father for answers.
Never is going to happen, its God’s master plan in the end, now His anger and wrath will come upon this nation. A plan of unspeakable horrors.
Safe place? Nowhere to be found man is on the eve of his own destruction.
So brothers and brethren pray that you are worthy Fear God His will be done. Pray that you are deemed worthy, repent ask Jesus for His protection and hope you are part of the first resurrection.
Long poem by
lucky okoedion | Details |
Fear is only a garden of dried leaves; the battalions
of soldier-ant-stings feelings. The state of not even a fiber
of courage to speak up in the market square of whispers;
the tears and foul smell from self-inflicted injuries. The canons
shot to back-fire: the suicide of skin bleaching.
Any other reason our leaves are dry? Please answer,
oh Africa! Any other reason our veins are bleeding
at the face of white challenges? Compose your answer.
A full calabash of shame: the over-flowing agbada
of racial phobia. How long must we surrender?
Emancipate yourself from intellectual witchbondage; the speechless
agonizing, wailings and lamentations of mediocrity.
Liberate yourself by yourself from the doldrums of pity
oh black race! Stone to collapsing, the heartless
Juju masquerade of the darkness of the past
which cast shadows of long-overcome weaknesses,
on the sun-lit paths of today; the yesteryears illnesses
dragging with cursed ropes, along with themselves the brightness
of the future into the insatiable graves of the past.
Today, liberate yourself from this hopelessness!
By yourself! Liberate yourself by yourself.
Fertilize the barren lands, pour water
on the dry root stems. And watch the later;
taste and see that success heals the senses,
people who fail trust their ability to fail again,
people who succeed trust their ability to succeed again.
Observe and learn the wind-borne native-chalk-powder lessons;
that history is a record of the past which has passed,
and misery is a negative anchor on the past.
Answer me, child of the soil! Shouldn’t you liberate yourself?
Or let the labor of the tractors remain in vain.
Or let the gardener’s wishes end as clouds without rain.
Or let the heads of kids keep hanging in disdain.
Or let the tongues of babblers keep rattling in vain.
Or let the grains of the planting season fail.
Or let the economic dependence keep you in chains.
Or let the intellectual witches and wizards prevail.
Or let the leaders not act but complain.
Or let the citizens not react but sustain.
Or let us continue to explain our pains without gains.
Tell Africa! Please somebody, help me tell Africa,
that racism is today not pride of color and place,
but fear of being surpassed and displaced!
Tell the whole world! Help tell her somebody, in camera,
that today, racism is not pride of color and place
but the leftover seed of slave trade; a disgrace
from which she refuses to recover; a hole
in the head, an arrow in the heart, a
sore in the leg, that refuses to be made whole.
Even when their tongues will choose to lie, their eyes will see it, oh Africa!
NB: Agbada: Nigerian attire worn by men of affluence. Like a long gown for big occasions.
Long poem by
Shanity Rain | Details |
To be in a young America ~
visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July
thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen
films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain
exciting new visions of creating new concepts
before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see
The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood
American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom
How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?
When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles
Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream
leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time
Cereal being a cheap snack for after school
school supplies costing twenty dollars
Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty
before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~
2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp
Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question
The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice
Never forgetting our Motor city
Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye
What happened to us ? Where did America Go ?
Long poem by
Poet Destroyer A | Details |
-The Tree of Life-
Featuring: Casarah Nance
~~I am beautiful on the inside you will see~~
~But really I am just a tree in the woods.~
Beauty found within a tree that sits, and does not speak
Owning, up to the heavens, come look at, when ready
Just stop, admire, count your blessings,
enjoy the raven staring down at you
For this tree was not planted by a gardener,
This tree, who needs, not to speak, draws true auspice air,
Not like the gardener who planted a garden,
then got annoyed by the smallest of weeds
This is a story, about a gardeners mockery,
after trying to cut down my Pecan Tree
Hypocrite the farmer,
does not know the first thing when it comes to flora
Plant sources, that only grow in as weeds, (poor crops)
a picture not even God, sets his eyes upon
I forbid, the thirsty growers from coming,
when putting up or wanting to gossip and speak of my roots
Look how they lose their lower leaves,
from over embracing each thorn
Take heed the whispers of these filthy propagators,
at my windows & doorsteps, Shh, they are watching!
Peeping-Tomming, robbing from my bluebonnet bed,
while in a deep sleep counting sheep
Wake-up, and Click away,
the dandelions are gone, airborne into a fuller universe
From the hunger, I left behind,
since jealous eyes envied how high my beanstalk continues to rise
Smile, at the yellow wool, held out by the same green thumb gang,
whine when others succeed,
Patting one another on the back,
as if they were the National FFA Organization
Grazers growing superfast- crowfoot grass, a bitter look,
found in their dead pedal path
Horticulturist, all alone, on the inside, growing bushes of lies,
contaminated vase, black roses
I can't endure participating in a dead stem convention,
when the seed-woman cries for care
Exposing an over watered garden,
hoarding clodhoppers grin, separating everything
The potential of plowed plants, are nothing more than corrupt cactus,
and invasive plant species in disguise,
Proof they don't know the first thing when cultivating the perfect flowers,
A die hard moment-
Not even the sun wants to climb up on the side of the landscape of falsehood
Sickened by the holes and yellow stains of dust and dirt,
broken by the Farmer and torn overalls
By daylight, the gardener lives kneeling, tending the greenhouse, of lies
By nighttime, the grower, swallows, by singing and tossing salads all night.
The Tree, continues to grow,
The Gardner Cries
A challenge by: Susan Burch ( a SORTA slam )
Inspired by: my poem "THE FLOWER"
~FOR CONTEST~ Dedicated to: Nathan
Poet Destroyer A
Long poem by
Andrew Crisci | Details |
Choosing that faithful woman to fulfill this fate,
she'll conceive a healthy baby with a loud scream,
a sweet cry so innocent piercing air and soul,
touch him tenderly, he is the fruit of our seed,
may his faith shed light on doubt and darkness,
let's hope that his deeds and words will be fine!
Growing up learning the right ways, he'll do fine,
these parents with their love will brighten his fate,
he'll experience loneliness conjured up by darkness;
none of our arguments he must hear when we scream,
let's assure him that we are proud of this gentle seed:
he'll understand what satisfies a man's empty soul!
Some will try to convince that life is separated from the very soul,
putting doubts aside, he must persuade himself that all is fine;
he'll remember who lifted him up at birth: the hands of his seed
and he'll thank his mother for being born despite an uncertain fate.
A lot of wisdom in everything is needed to survive and not scream,
never straying from those words that he must avoid all darkness.
And he immensely influenced by our righteous ways, will not know darkness,
even being tempted, he wouldn't allow a little disgrace stain his clean soul;
if nightmares replace dreams, nothing will have to make him fret and scream.
Our hope in him is greater than any opposing force that implies is not quite fine,
but he'll stare at these two smiles that give him a brightness so denied by fate;
isn't it such a triumphant joy to have grown and tendered a perfect seed?
How can uncaring hearts abandon and not nourish a promising seed,
letting shadows surround him with scary images of lethal darkness?
Even at fourteen, he is too are fragile to fight the forces of fate,
he may look mature, but he seeks adventure without fearing any soul;
we watch what he does and we are certain his day will be really fine,
and perhaps with our understanding, he will have no reason to scream.
To bear a child every woman must feel a great pain followed by a final scream,
than she will hold that tiny creature who tries to smile as she cuddles her first seed;
before he was in her womb with little room to move, now he's being fed and feels fine.
Wouldn't a mother call him by name and he' would respond even in darkness;
her voice and touch will leave that feel of tenderness, he'll keep them in his soul,
and like us, he'll teach his children to grow in love despite the unfairness of fate.
Joy was heard in your scream, a lightning through darkness;
you touched him softly, cherishing the beauty of your seed...
this will effect his deeds, he'll be very wise in dealing with fate.