The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
I will never be the girl your heart cries for.
I will never be enough for a soul that wants more
than what I can offer.
My beauty can’t be seen, only felt
by hearts that look with emotional eyes.
But you are at an age where “beautiful”
is still built on the approval of others.
I am at an age where I’ve stopped looking for acceptance.
Sometimes what we’re looking for is beyond
what the naked eye can see.
And just maybe, we are looking for two different things:
what the eyes can see, and what the heart can touch.
At your youthful age, beauty means more to you.
At my age, maturity smiles at wisdom
and acknowledges the innocence of your youth.
When you grow old, you need more
than wrinkled skin. You need what’s beneath the flesh -
a beating heart that loves you till death parts you.
So I will go my way and wish you well,
hoping you find what you’re searching for.
The Troubadour
The scent of musk permeates the air,
And I, like a troubadour, leap for it there.
To dizzyingly heights and then alight
In a euphoric high filled with pride.
To greet my sweet’s fluttering peeps
That prick my pupils and blush my cheeks.
Then I breathe deep to exercise my vocals
While she dawdles away, charmed by the minstrel.
Like a peacock in bloom, I fan my feathers
And flap my wings in a dazzling repertoire.
And she, a princess of beauty and grace,
Acknowledges my advances without haste.
Boldly encouraged and flagrantly absurd,
I make promises I’ll regret afterwards,
But she is worth every ounce of expenditure
I put forth and more if she so desires.
***
Orion.
The winter constellation.
Stellar.
I could:
Learn.
Not that it’s horrible to have my mind filled with grass clippings.
It’s not rare to be this way.
And they reminded me so.
Orion.
In the winter, he is visible.
Invincible.
I don’t think constellations even know about anything.
Just looks down and tattles on me.
Told my mom my future.
Toppled over, like my lips and drool.
Orion.
I wish I was such a constellation.
Who has hunting abilities.
Without even knowing what he’s hunting.
Yet he’s:
Stellar.
Typical.
Able.
And even though he’s in space, he’s more grounded than me.
In the winter, I may not be stellar.
Or typical.
Or able.
Or mystical.
I don’t have a story like Orion.
I just like strawberry ice cream.
Orion.
I bet he trips sometimes and somehow no one sees.
There’s a big thump out in the universe.
No one acknowledges it.
Grrrr….
The moment lasted a while,
uncertain how long
Thunder and lightning
in wild confusion
- flashed with sabre rays
and powerful thunder sound
Interrupted by hail
first as peas - then tennis balls
Nature's curse,
brought the evil man closer
When all its elements convulse
trembling with disturbed power
acknowledges its status
On the horizon's edge
sun finally appeared
As traces of inscriptions
- beauty achieved
Dancing beneath the celestial tapestry,
Each tender touch and warm embrace ignites her joy,
A radiant warmth lingers like the twilight’s kiss,
As love deepens, weaving threads of passion ever tighter.
It echoes the canvas of a setting sun,
Where the horizon bleeds into a symphony of colors,
Yet shadows loom, seeking to veil this glowing warmth,
But it endures, shimmering in the gaze of distant stars.
Occasionally, the world acknowledges my toil,
As a young dreamer, my father’s pride wraps around me like a cloak,
In the realm of labor, accolades bloom like spring flowers,
Filling me with a fleeting warmth, as time momentarily halts.
In this fleeting existence, permanence is a myth,
The sky surrenders its glow to the encroaching night,
Romance fades into the quiet of slumber,
And the warmth of achievement dissipates at the boss’s inquiry, “How is your work progressing?”
What do you look for in a man?
I usually say wisdom.
An owl that is respectful,
Thinks with his head,
But still acknowledges the heart.
As much as i pretend to love those birds,
Who flock to your side once smitten—
I tend to fall,
For those sly serpents,
Who could care less if I’m eaten.
I know they tell lies,
But their sickly sweet words,
Dripping like honey,
Trick my senses,
Into thinking they’re sweeter than they are cruel.
Hiding behind that vexing charm,
Serpents weaken their prey.
Combining appetite with desire,
They confuse my instincts.
My scorpion tail hesitates,
Not knowing whether their smile is false or not,
I shouldn’t sting if I’m unsure.
His smirk hides his fangs,
He knows what he does to me.
I let his venom spread through my veins—
I wish I didn’t fall for serpents.
Walking on sandy grains,
I gazed beside, mirror so vast.
Maybe, the door to celestial realm.
No, my friend it's just the moonlit ocean.
~Byeol
__________________________________________________________________________________________explaination: this poem explore the human tendency to seek transcendence and meaning in our experiences. The poet initial intereperation of moonlight ocean as "door to celestial realm" reflects our innate desire to connect with something greater. However, the poet humble conclusion "just the moonlit ocean" acknowledges the importance of grounding in reality. This poem invite readers to contemplate the delicate balance between seeking meaning and embracing simplicity of present moment.
As the pencil is being sharpened
And the ink is being refilled
The pieces are coming together
As the memories are being emphasized
And the truth is being revisited
The picture is showing itself
What a poem?,
It is man
Who had capabilities
A life full of possibilities
It is a father
Who had dreams
A life full of accomplishments
The seed,
As the writing becomes writable
And the writer acknowledges her writings
The pieces are showing an individual
As the recollection of events are coming under the surface
And the thoughts are being revisited
The picture is showing the owner
What a poem?
Today, he celebrates life's milestone,
Grateful to God, his guiding light divine.
Through trials and tribulations, he's made it through,
While some peers fell, others thrive anew.
All he's achieved, all he's become, is God's design,
His Maker's glory, forever intertwined.
Breath, wealth, health – blessings from above,
A loving wife, children – a labor of love.
With heartfelt thanks, he acknowledges the past,
Tribute to those who've helped shape his path at last.
Philip Abayomi Olorunfemi, on your special day,
May longevity and joy come your way.
November 19 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 18-20
Key Verse – Acts 18:9 Then spake the Lord to Paul in the night by a vision, Be not afraid, but speak…
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR PACIFYING US
FROM BEING AFRAID
Praise be to God for pacifying us from being afraid:
Cheering us along His comfort
Calling us inside His contentment
Caring for us through His compassion
Communing with us around His concern
Commanding us for courageous commitment
Acts 19:8 Praise be to the Lord for persuading to
prioritize His kingdom that:
Affirms His authority of heavenly approval
Advances His assembly along holy association
Acknowledges His armory upon high accountability
Asserts His assured arrival toward our hopeful anticipation
Appreciates His acts for our attentive, authentic, and active adoration
Acts 20:21 Praise be to the Saviour for
helping us testify about our faith toward God along:
Repentance from sins
Rejoicing for secured salvation
Refreshment with satisfying sufficiency
Restoration against sorrows and sufferings
Revival of spirituality for service through the Scriptures. Amen!
November 19, 2024
I remember the first day I saw you,
The blonde-haired boy with the ocean blue eyes,
A lob sided grin and tan skin,
I was never much a girl for Manchester boys,
That was until I met you and my heart skipped a beat in joy,
He’s smart, Athletic and funny,
Though we’ve never talked i know his favourite colour and the way he likes his hair,
And as I stare at the sun I think of him the bright boy who I wish calls my name,
Instead he has another girl
Prettier skinnier curvier perfect in everyway,
His eyes crinkle in awe as he looks down at the model tucked close to his side,
And as he leans down to kiss her their eyes never break contact,
They share a love that I couldn’t possibly ever compete with,
A couple everyone dreams over,
Wishing for a relationship like theirs,
And as I look up at the sun I think of him,
The boy who makes me smile every time my eyes lock on his,
Though he never talks or even acknowledges me,
I still fall in love with that Manchester boy,
My Manchester boy.
Intelligent non-attachment
acknowledges the beauty
in this relentless fabulous
fragile fleeting flow of life.
Seek by commitment
the many gifts from heaven,
concealed in the recesses
of everyone's being.
Drink only from the cup
of perpetual durance virtuous pleasure,
to celebrate every time you decide
to make brighter your already bright light.
WHAT HURTS THE MOST?
When you tell someone you don't feel good
still they leave you in that statehood
that moment made me realize I was in falsehood
because being too good is not so good.
When the one you love never acknowledges your pain
that moment makes you feels like you are nothing but a vain
the day when the ground under your feet slipped
cause people do change and words do get flipped.
........AMORE..........
Death drained my life of joy,
till my heart morphed into an empty husk.
And I cannot muster a single smile
from the many I've stored in memory;
to come to my aid in this time of grief.
An emptiness acknowledges the love I've lost.
There are no words that can describe my pain;
all fail to capture the anguish I'm feeling.
Half of me is suddenly missing,
and that half can never be replaced.
You were the foundation that supported me,
my love, my friend, my reason for living.
You allowed me to lean on you;
and never bent under the added weight.
There will never be another you.
You were unique! An angel in mortal guise!
A gentler soul never trod this Earth;
I was blessed to have loved you
and been loved by you.
Death can never take that feeling from me.
Nothing can keep us apart for long,
I will be joining you soon enough.
We are soulmates; indivisible and eternal!
Death is but an inconvenience
to two souls tethered to each other
by the ethereal bonds of love.
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