REPORTOIRE OF THEMES
improvised
performance
with
variations
according
to mood
a
synaesthesia
of opportunities
in
meaningful
interpretatIons
devoted
to
absolutely
quiet
orderly
security
&
compatibility
reflected
drifting
orchestrated
combinations
attesting
to
immediacy
in
virtuosity
with
harmonic
moments
with
feeling
motivates
personality
They lie in wait, a lie of state
A statement therein lies
The journey long that bears the song
Aloft to culmination
The strike is swift, the rest, the lift
Arresting once safe passage
And so is made, this tempting trade
For food of thought is fleeting
She rests attesting to this moment
No siren song but lilting
And in an instant instantly
A melody is risen
The aire is born for life, forlorn
And carried on the current
Survive the journey for the learning
Live to see the morrow
And where these two should meet unsweet
A moment left to capture
For all must eat lest they succumb
Benumbed to rote or rapture
This uncompromising Sunday
has agreed to let us enjoy
what is left of a boring day
as we ardently seek the brief presence
of a radiant sunset resembling red clay,
attesting the inevitable evidence.
The purple lilacs and pink tulips gently sway,
nobody listens to the crickets' soothing sounds;
early at sunrise they were inundated by big waves
and torrents of unmerciful rain pelting on the bay.
Every Bayberry and Crape Myrtle shrub has fragrant flowers,
they attract Sandpipers, Snowy Plovers and Monarch Butterflies;
they all feast on them, then they take off with incredible swiftness:
while the tranquil and brilliant sea resounds with various shrills.
I spot from far the noisy seagulls landing on the Church's steeple,
scattering the Gray Catbirds huddled on long cable wires that were
listening to the choir of faithful marching out with glowing smiles,
cherishing their last moment of glory under brilliant September's skies.
This uncompromising Sunday
has agreed to let us enjoy
what is left of a boring day
as we ardently seek the brief presence
of a radiant sunset resembling red clay,
attesting the inevitable evidence.
The purple lilacs and pink tulips gently sway,
nobody listens to the crickets' soothing sounds;
early at sunrise they were inundated by big waves
and torrents of unmerciful rain pelting on the bay.
Every Bayberry and Crape Myrtle shrub has fragrant flowers,
they attract Sandpipers, Snowy Plovers and Monarch Butterflies;
they all feast on them, then they take off with incredible swiftness:
while the tranquil and brilliant sea resounds with various shrills.
I spot from far the noisy seagulls landing on the Church's steeple,
scattering the Gray Catbirds huddled on long cable wires that were
listening to the choir of faithful marching out with glowing smiles,
cherishing their last moment of glory under brilliant September's skies.
Spiritedly radiating festive cheer
Exuberant along blest hopeful gear
Prevailing with God’s grace, mercy and light
This month ushers us toward celebration delight.
Eagerly greeting our hearts with triumphant merriments
Mirth-filled September exudes jubilant, vibrant moments:
Birthdays of family members bring reunion bliss
Engaging loved ones together in fellowship we can’t miss---
Reminiscing childhood fun along home bonding zest
Fueled with testimonies of faith, attesting we are blest
Also, we have tribute to grandparents on a September Sunday
Leading our footsteps toward upholding wise legacy’s ray.
Let’s welcome September blessings gratefully indeed
Showered by the Lord* with His gifts to share in word and in deed.
*1 Peter 4:10 As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.
September 16, 2024
5th place, "September Falls" Acrostic and Rhyme Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; judged on 9/30/2024
Together, two can become one
When they have differences none.
They certainly can have all the fun
That you can find under the sun.
Shunning fully their false pride
In each other’s heart they reside.
Forgetting the surroundings beside
They jointly go on a joyous ride.
Though they live in small nests
They like to be each other’s guests.
With love, attesting the other’s jests
They get through all litmus tests.
Picture: 2
Our apartment has one bedroom
And 900 feet of space,
But that is where our festive meal,
This year, was taking place.
As we cleaned and cooked, preparing
For the dinner and before,
We knew there would be a special treat
For all of us in store.
Both our grandkids would stay over
When our son and wife would leave,
Sharing sleep space on the sofa,
Not too crazy to believe.
While our daughter, too, would join us
On another pull-out couch,
All attesting to their comfort
To which each of them would vouch.
With one bathroom, we all managed;
We had fun and no one griped.
It was wonderful, for sure,
But now they’re home and I am wiped!
trapped in the category of basic feelings, attesting to the functional regularity of the average human and demonstrating the crystal-clear predictability of their secular behavior, hatred, love, envy and jealousy consolidated practically all the advance and retreat of a race that eternally gravitates around its own navel, growing at the limit of the satisfaction of instincts and collapsing to the exact extent and at the time when it judges itself full and satiated, ignoring or comfortably avoiding understanding that both transcendence and evolution require the uprising of satiety, since this in everything resembles resignation and cowardice.
I do not like the skin I’m in -
It’s dotted, dry and wrinkled,
Like paper with a reject poem -
Once smooth, now sadly crinkled.
Each little tap becomes a bruise,
A purple blotch, attesting
To all the years I’ve spent on earth,
A dermal-type divesting.
Some freckles, not here yesterday,
Have multiplied and scattered.
They would have bothered me much more
When my appearance mattered.
What troubles me some others might
Find trite and almost risible.
I should let go, for at my age,
To others I’m invisible.
Night grows silent, nary a sound
The best time to write, I have found,
to compose poetic impressions.
Pages in leather tomes, they're bound.
Lines of repentant expressions,
attesting to indiscretions
and the sorrow they did impart.
Each verse filled with my confessions.
Nib of my pen hurled as a dart
at its target, my wounded heart.
With self-inflicted pain it bleeds
Torn into pieces, ripped apart.
Repentant for the loathsome deeds,
the temptation of fleshly needs.
I beg forgiveness for my sin.
My poetry sorely concedes.
There is no other grief akin
to the ache I feel deep within.
If there's a way to right my wrong,
please tell me. How do I begin?
May 26th, 2022
Rubaiyat Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
I've been here for so long
trying to soften the dullest words
digging madly inside of me
in search of the prettiest nugget
but when I finally gave up
recognizing to be made of pure gravel
I heard the beautiful cracking sound
of certainties shattering
attesting that maybe
what i believed was horrible in me
could be the best thing I ever had
Joyously saved* by my Almighty Creator God, Lord Jesus
Everlasting life I possess, by faith in Christ Who’s eternal
Redeemed toward glorious heavenly grand residence
Thankful, I praise God Whom I constantly trust
Yes, He loves me and to Him, I’m always yielding.
Jubilant heart of mine seeks Him, mercifully just
Assured with His Word of precious assertions
Nourished along satisfying spiritual nurture
Enabling me to live by His reviving empowerment.
Grace He bestows surely brings goodness-glow
Attesting His presence, keeping me divinely active
Guarding and guiding my soul through His governing
Never to be forsaken, as He brings me to Him near
Illumining me toward stewardship verily inspiring.
*Ephesians 2:8 For by grace are ye saved through faith;
and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.
Dear Jerty,
Belated blessed birthday to you.
Love, Ma’am Bhee
January 28, 2022
Silver shimmers
reflected by the sea
When dawn kisses each
silhouetted tree.
As sunrise pierces
fleecy clouds of blush
A canvass bides the
eager artist's brush.
Our Banyon bids adieu
to fowl in flight...
Their songs reverberate
in morning light
Attesting to the joy
each dawn excites
In explosive colors
which Sol ignites.
As breezes blow through
azure skies above
I share divinely Dawn's
sweet gifts of love.
12-24-21
'STRAND NO 1042' Contest~First Place~
Sponsor Brian Strand
Merry Christmas (Mele Kalikimaka) from Hawaii….Aloha
Further than amazed silence applauds
when lights, shapes and colors unite
and enchanting time in fair sight
attesting purity never action flawed
Some years ago, I moved North of the Bay and East of the Sea.
Unable to stay any longer in the City by The Bay, we moved away.
Needless to say, It wasn't about 'smarts', but about 'needing to eat'.
For the further one got from that Bay, the more affordable life became.
Little did we know at the time, our new abode would be our home for so long.
Of places we've called home, none surpasses the 'feel of home' we feel here.
Where is home really, if no rivers run through it or heat waves don't put the
fear of God in you?
Each sunflower and the seeds it bears also call it home, attesting that 'there's
no place like home'.
Rest assured and inform lovers of sunflower seeds that the water is scarce,
but sunflowers thrive.
052121PSCtest, Sunflower, Malabika Ray Choudhury
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