Not to question the Almighty
Though when planning out our life He
Might have done a better job
In the designing of the gob
For in the matter of our teeth
Far from a permanent bequeath
They’re like friends for aye of sorrow
Here today and gone tomorrow
I suggest a bold revisor
For the molars and incisors
Chance in later evolution
A less transient solution
Consider hair; it keeps on growing
In a breeze we feel it blowing
Head, and chin, and neath the nose
Waving free or tied in bows
As predictable as dawning
It gets longer every morning
So on schedule or a whim
We go and get ourselves a trim
What if our teeth would thus renew
In covenant that’s firm and true
Then after every loss of bite
We’d grow a fresh and pearly white
The mission then of dentistry
Not: fight growth of entropy!
But with the novel fresh mandate
To tend our crops and cultivate
With grin physicians then we’d be
Relaxed within their company
Not as a blessing to endure
But for their oral haute couture
Grieved our word by breach of faintness.
Fraud pains and shivers us wordless
Had no clue, what had given us
God, join us in one love and grace.
Heaven is broad secret above.
Our parents' love will aid and move.
Ready to merge in love and sense
God, join us in one love and grace.
Strange and hue's world is mystery.
We talked quite than learned drearily.
We presume from what they told us.
God, join us in one love and grace.
our lives are intertwined through time.
we soar and grow close by yet mime.
Current love's bolted growth is false.
God, join us in one love and grace.
We thereafter wept our blunders.
Things were expressed that can't be changed.
Cleave the most of your one life chance
God, join us in one love and grace.
Said things we're inept to bear back.
Guided us onto the right track.
Prize memories righted themselves.
God, join us in one love and grace
lurch out of a haze
thought love had brought now was past-
every breath I take
10/29/2019
I'm falling and I know it.
Yet I see the one's below me.
And I say I have to help them
when no-one can say that each be.
Where the only thing in common
is a ground been pulled beneath.
Where no-one has seen the help sign
and the others batt bequeath.
An extravagance of leisure
—exploiting the time
Beyond the reach of my Grandfathers
—the joy and the pain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
You, my most favorite darling, get my grandfather clock said she.
When I am dead. Unapologetic, diabolical laugh.
You, sweetie pie, get my off-key piano stated easily.
To keep in my tiny efficiency apartment? Is she daft?
And you, honey babe, get my jewelry, she prettily pointed out.
Indicating her only grandchild who does not like jewels.
Grandma was directing everyone bossily. No one dared pout.
Knowing the wrath that comes easy from old related fools.
Also knowing that when she is gone we can trade
Up and down, in and out, no one fully caring.
We will throw all the extra stuff to her loyal maid.
We sisters are all about dividing and sharing.
I can hardly wait to meet you
To hold you and to greet you
As I await for your arrival
My darling sweet Grandchild
My heart is overflowing
Such love I have for you
You are in my heart already
I bequeath to you my Teddy
A precious, shabby, well-loved bear
He’ll keep you safe when I’m not there
I can hardly wait to hold you
To touch your soft pale skin
To feel your tiny hands in mine
Such love for you within
I can hardly wait to smell you
And to snuggle you so close
That scrumptious scent of babes anew
A fragrance that I love the most
If only I could bottle it
I’d make a pound or two
I would save it in a Piggy Bank
And give it all to you
I can hardly wait to see you
Do you have your Papa’s smile
Or Mama’s little button nose
I hope you don’t have Grannies toes
My heart is truly aching with a love I have for you
My dear sweet child
My Grandchild
How wonderful
Come soon
Written two weeks before the birth of my first Grandchild - now 21 years old
Contest Strand Choice U
Sposor Brian Strand
3rd Place
The extravagance of leisure
—to have exploited spare time
Beyond the reach of my grandfathers
—beyond the joy and the pain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
D-o bequeath to future generations,
A-ll the lessons of yesterday;
N-ovember twenty-second morn
I-s learning with Wednesday.
E-arnestly bequeath to future generations,
L-eaving to them the faith and love;
L-et them live with firm hope
I-n the sight of one God above.
B-equeath to future generations
R-ight path toward glorious abode;
A-llow them to know the truth,
Z-ealously prepare their road.
I-nstruct the children about wisdom, words speak lower than actions;
L-oud and clear message is taught, bequeath to future generations.
Villanelle : Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
No not all the tasters of Isphaha can patch it back whole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Poetasters all to echolalia Babel be haunted gone
Where words will sour and curdle in a soup bowl
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
No patchy poet’s torn image can verily be sewn
Whose poems cannot own up to an innate soul
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
Who says poets are not to the calling be yet re-born
Which mewling mumbler hacked his way to the goal
Bequeath not an image which isn’t wholly your own
The easiest persona is still the begetter of the poem
Words strung in any old order fit well into any old hole
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
No treasure equal to a people’s spirit anyone disown
The fearless voices of a people’s pain the world console
Bequeath not an image which is not wholly your own
Living did you your true voice with packs of lies loan
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Having lived and now no more
These treasures I bequeath
To death I leave a body grown weary
At the time it called
To life I leave memories that are a mind field
And may not reveal all about me
To the world I leave my poetry
To those that claimed to know me
I leave the sound of my laughter
To my family I leave the stories
My friends would tell about me
To my soul I leave a body
No longer fit to be inhabited
To my conscience I leave the paths
An imperfect life led
To posterity I leave a tomb representing
A life that stood still
To my desires I Ieave a legacy
Of pleasures that were over-fulfilled
To those that come after me I leave
My dreams that may offer a foundation
On which to build a better life
To my pride I leave regrets about
What I could have done better
To hope I leave the scars that
Living branded into my psyche
To myself I leave my individuality
As no one else was
As I pretended to be
Bequeath to me no inlaid jewel brocade
If you are called before God calls to me.
Your saphire blues and ruby reds will fade
But give me fire that fueled your heart so free.
Your glowing flame a gift from God to thee
As comfort balm to calm and warm the years.
If death should call please gift your fire to me
To stroke my soul and dry my bitter tears.
If I am called I'll face death without fear
For then your greatest friend in life is free.
But hear these words I whisper while still near:
As friends we've been but lovers now should be.
Your essence does excite and light my life;
So faithful friend become my faithful wife.
put teeth in pillow,eat jello and stay soft,apartment loft is off the
distance,pessimistic me,is she free?ill go look see.
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