Peep day matrix,
of willowy fog,
grey sprinkled usher,
to ephemeral epiphany,
frail cloud mantle,
vacuous veneer,
or token inkling,
amorphous tweet,
encoded riddle flimsy,
sunshine arbitrator,
dispells hazy,
symbolism
Yes, No, or later
Miracle man
10/21/2024
God,
Oft times in prayer I’ve aired my wants to thee,
and many times You’ve became my arbitrator.
Because You saw a future that I couldn’t see,
Your answer wasn’t yes or no, but perhaps later.
I know not what might lie in wait ahead,
and things I want are not always best for me.
God’s voice to me I must always firmly imbed,
so that in prayer He will always hear my plea.
It started with a stamped canvas
Long, long ago, long, long ago
To be prettier than dianthus
Finished it'd put on a great show
Long, long ago, long, long ago
The embroidery done in detail
When finished a lesson bestow
Remembering now the tales I could tale
A few stitches remain to be sown
'Pon that piece started when you were born
Long, long ago, the project blown
Gone with job of rearing firstborn
Could it be finished for another?
My arthritic hands are crippled
'Tis hard to do stitches, I'd rather
Still hold you close, but not smother
Long, long ago, long, long ago
Is not today, what will matter later
I really can't say, as you still grow
Possibly become an arbitrator
She cries for the slain,
She mediates for the oppressed,
She opens the door for the innocent,
She avenges the tortured.
Her voice is heard on the streets,
Where the feet of the downtrodden tread,
Her tears flow at the grave,
Where the massacred are laid.
She walks into the courtroom,
Her presence permeates the space,
She hears the cries of the forgotten and lost,
She goes in search of an arbitrator.
She traverses crooked lanes,
She journeys on jagged terrain,
She searches out the lost pieces,
She embraces the embittered.
October Sun…!!! Our summer fun
and playful romps in clover,
our laid back days have gone their ways;
the equinox is over.
As climate drifts your orbit shifts
towards the Earth’s equator,
and you become the biased one,
the season’s arbitrator.
As foliage falls and coolness calls,
the days are growing shorter;
October Sun, the callous one,
the summertime’s exporter.
October 27, 2019
as long as war is the supreme arbitrator between nations Man peace won't find!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 December 2018
Red clouds, bloodstained, a warning! Innocent
souls forever lost in vain, abhorrent!
Never learned, natures life's arbitrator.
Red clouds for Jack, nature, his life counsellor!
You speak as I listen,
and You teach as
I learn-
my hunger for Your
salvation has become
an endless mystery.
You remain the One
constant thing in
my life-
the Arbitrator and
Intercessor between
me and God.
You look as I see,
and You give as I feel-
Your sacrifice will
always remain a
tender memoir as to
why I live with
mercy.
There is only You...
...my Jesus.
April 9, 2017
Alone will all stand, void of lawyers or mentors
no person will escape from the best orators
chance has no chance, gone is the period of options
human deeds are displayed for reckoning to auction
heaven and hell seated and ready to suction
a judge is on the throne not an arbitrator
who condemns to everlasting pain on any traitor.
Time is a naked temptress whom we all fear,
Sometimes we beg her to fly but too often, she is already fleeting,
Time is expectation and anticipation spinning a web round us all,
Allowing neither to come true.
Within and without all things that happen,
Time remains the ultimate constant,
As humans are born and then die, time stands by as the final arbitrator,
Acknowledging repetitive stupidity to the sound of a second.
Neither time nor man have habitual morality, time sees to that,
There are occasions when man is moral,
But with every new tide of acts, promises, judgments, and words,
The pebbles on the beach are rearranged.
Through love, hate, wisdom, and ignorance, I watch my time pass by,
Knowing all too well what is happening and yet not willing to change for fear of loss.
I must learn to love the naked temptress,
For though the pebbles on the beach may rearrange, in time, there is peace.
Sitting between the knees,
I am being bathed by intense anxiety
and fear of harsh light.
A canopy of doubts
confronts the dignity versus anarchy
for a watchman
who will not dare open-
the vault of truth. A fatal
ire of imagination puts him
to dire need of salvation.
Was I moving from the wrong
side of history in my zodiac
to change the drooping eyelids ?
Death opens my door for a shortwhile
and then walks away
after watching the transparencies.
•
The masks come and masks go.
Cracks do not disappear.
Either you destroy me,
or my inside will have
a singingbird,
closing the golden window.
The hardening of atereies.
Tension was rising
around the absence.
Who was the arbitrator
between dog and lamb ?
The weather was ripening black currants.
Satish Verma
Merely, the hardest thing
I must ever do
Is express myself through remorse
Especially when being in the wrong
And alas my dearest, in this moment
You were in the right, all along
Thus, where my heart begins to fight
It starts by raging war
Against that of solemn shame
And now of 'tis wounded pride
But, the forces they gather among a storm
And begin by choosing up on rival sides
But, out of whitest mist
Onto that of whiter horse
The guardian, love comes rushing in
As that of saving arbitrator
Destined to always win
“On bended knee, I plead unto thee
My fairest, grant thy just and forgiveness
All that I have to offer is my humbling sincerity
And that of remaining heart
As to thee, now I hand these words “I am so deeply sorry”
12 Minutes Ago
Live as others see,
just what it is we do
Uncomplicated so to speak,
Superficial surface, simple rules
unfolding actions
Genuflecting before the holy altar
Or living the life provided
But there is the backgrounder
The arbiter, arbitrator of who we are
Giving opinions, comments
On every lasting moment
Final liable depending on circumstances
That we don’t necessarily agree to see
Directs us to those actions
might puzzle even on lookers
The final ruler, the master slave
Who lives deep down, lives so far down
No one knows from country which
Only guess at his (hers) presence
Involved in more, much more
Then you would ever guess
Smoke reveals flame, spring needs rain
The presence shapes the flowing current
And talks tales to the tiller,
A stronger voice when seas’ in turmoil
Surprisingly directed seemingly
unthoughtful actions
To those who stand and stare
Surprising mostly to ourselves
Unfamiliar with the master slave
Who lives so far below.
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