Best Absolving Poems
The American Dream is dead indeed
A victim of American Greed
Trickle down they said we’d try
Then proceeded to suck us dry
The One Percent seeking thrills
Living large in Beverly Hills
Paying minimum wage even though it kills
And the middle class can’t pay their bills
Infinite growth is just a dream
Some would call it a Ponzie Scheme
Leveraged living by the way
Selling tomorrow to pay for today
On this you surely can depend
Certain destruction in the end
Time will pass it’s always the same
Just the same old political game
Some other fool will take the blame
Absolving us of our Great Shame
As always the best government money can buy
Politicians ready and eager to comply
Super PACS no need to balk
The Supreme Court ruled money talks
Citizens United paved the way
Now Plutocrats will have their sway
Most will suffer a few will play
But in the end we all will pay
The greedy deeds of Kleptocrats
Both Republicans and Democrats
Business as usual the same old malarkey
Democracy taking us to Oligarchy
But be of stout heart and have no fear
Climate change is already here
And in the end it will be clear
Sooner or later we’ll all disappear
In the northern heavens her essence so vivid
My constant seraphic star
Basking within her gloriousness warming
Cleaves to me from distances far
Guiding my pathway on night lit Earth
Keeping my course right and true
Holding back storms until I reach my safe haven
To witness the next dawn rise anew
Those nights when cover clouds her features
Her radiance rushes in on the winds
Blessing my journey seeing me home safely
Forgiving my ways absolving my sins
Morning starts breaking and my cherub starts fading
Past the horizon waters falling so deep
Awaiting the rising of her mettle so tender
Of that maternal star light unique.
Tossed into the stormy ocean
when life struck another blow
brined, devoid of all emotion
lost child from Land of Goshen
drowning in the ebb and flow
dragged to depths by undertow
Blind eyes were opened to the past
of stains, blemishes carried long
feint with sorrow, my fate cast
gasping for air, I breathed my last
Lyrics pealed from Savior's song
absolving me for rebellious wrongs
Gentle hands touched my feet
binding chains of sin were broken
Satan bellowed and roared in defeat
"Taste blood's wine until replete."
Was the Son of God who had spoken
to me on the beach when I had woken
Life rescued by the kind mercy of Him
cleansed when I'd been washed ashore
He whispered to me, "You can swim."
Angelic voices rose in requiem
Echoes from above, then nothing more
Naked, but for the robe of white I wore
April 21st, 2017
There Once Was A Man ...
There once was a man, oh so brave
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
Well, him being the host
To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves ...
and not being too keen
About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wifes, called them slaves
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
Well, the barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
But they paid him no mind,
’Caus his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in -
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’
Precious by Weston Gregory
She is the kinda lady that leaves a man
wanting more
breathless, excited, immerse in
precious kinda crazy
an open door to charms impossible to
ignore
ignites fire sears deep within
and erase fears that you have of things
absolving instead of making you live in
regrets smothering ring
a spirit so free you crave to bring her in
but well you know that life would be like a
prison
so wanting more you leave her be
an eagle soaring
than a park fed pigeon
WG
They guard lost gardens
Criss-cross forgotten rivers of solitude
All future seasons they rotate
Absolving rage with mute and gentle grace
Sweet angels
Blind to reason they spark rainbows
random, silent arcs that transform space.
They are constant, strange, eternal,
the very breath, and brain of God.
Suzanne Delaney
From ashes
she rises,
absolving
cleansing,
face, hands, feet.
Four months,
Ten days,
She mourns.
She weeps.
She clothes herself now
in an adornment of white
bowing privately,
praying fervently,
as bitter fumes
of acetone
seep beneath the door.
Her source is god.
Her destination is god.
She pleads with god now
for peace
As men mix and pour
A holocaust
Just outside her door.
Her sisters wail.
They bathe her lifeless arms
And shroud her
as Iris Albicans-
Exotic,
Fragile,
Pure.
The imam, he stands,
Praying silently
As men convey her
towards Mecca.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
Wreath ring of flowers holding hand-in-hand
Hands in circular unity symbolising eternity
Eternal is belief in Trinity, Christianity and Christ
Christ a Messiah rising from dead absolving sins
Sins mounting, hoping Christ to descend from Heaven
Heaven like atmosphere humans creating in Christmas
Christmas, festive season of family reunion and gift-giving
Gift-giving, symbolic love weaving harmony as flowers in wreath
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
© Hitendra Mehta
( Entry for Members Contest - Christmas Wreath sponsored by Dr Ram Mehta)
If poesy is health, then I should be hale:
no invalid, but a bard whose high time
nears, whose destiny only God can tell.
Till then, I faithfully live by every rhyme.
If poesy is wealth, then I should be rich:
for I, now like a king of immense treasure,
am but a pauper who has found his niche,
a kingdom and realm of rhythm and measure.
If poesy is wisdom, then I should be wise:
for, through songs like these, even the dull and blind
(nourished with truthful, lovely rhymes) can rise
to higher ethereal states of mind!
If wisdom and poesy are thus absolving,
then I still should be happy and evolving.
My Love is like a cherished gift I covet in my room;
My Love is like a budding shoot forever caught in bloom;
My Love is like a melody I captured whilst in dream;
Of a lilting sensuality of a pleasure quite serene.
The passion of my Love can sear and yet can also heal;
There is no bar can measure how intense my Love can feel;
My Love warms me in winter's chill but cools my irate state;
With calming words of meaning my Love knows what soothes my aches.
I have seen my Love shed tears of pain as passions overrun;
I have seen a sorrow in my Love from hurts that I have done;
And yet I felt forgiveness from my Love that is so deep;
Absolving me from my past wrongs and setting me then free.
My Love lives that which teachings say as goodly souls we should;
Engender in each other and instill within our youths.
My Love is solid fundament of realism pure;
Not concepts or imaginings of damsels in knight's lore;
And yet the magic that my Love displays for me each day;
Would put to shame all fantasy in children's fairy tales.
Forgiveness
Merciful, kindhearted
Absolving, spiritualizing, uplifting
Benevolence, compassion, coldness, malevolence,
Condemning, secularizing, depressing
Cruel, hardhearted,
Blame
© November 15, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Thinly Wangmo, Yogini.
Thinly Wangmo, a Tibetan too,
Rode on her horse this way,
Invasion came, Chinese, like rain,
No where, to get away?
Chinese war lord, occupier.
Captured her out a riding.
A nasty sod, an Asian clod.
His anger, there residing.
Belted bashed, almost to death ,
By a thorn branch, merciless,
She catches of a final breath,
And gallops off a laughing.
And knowing well n understood,
She knows it’s for her earthly good,
This belting she earned by wood.
Life time, she was a charmer,
Absolving, her bad karma.
Thinly made an instant prayer,
While bashing,
she was a suffering there,
That others might be spared ,
A lovely little charmer!
Chinese chased and caught Thinley,
Her wounds had healed surprisingly,
Came back some Chinese dignity,
He knew she was amazing see,
He asked, for him, she pray,
She did the day he died…Don Johnson
Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ contest
Thinly, is a true happening.
It is part of a Buddist book.
from which i browsed ,
and thoughts betooked
and there of Thinly,
she Tibetan sage.
Seen good n bad and often sad,
some of terrifying....
long as it flows babe...xox...Don
God, grant me wisdom and with it, good judgment.
I shall make right choices on this walk through life.
For it is in wisdom that love abounds.
Wisdom with understanding begets good judgment.
Sometimes perceptions might be askew.
But wisdom perceives, loves, and forgives.
Absolving anxiety and steadfastly soothing anger.
Wisdom places peace in the heart of life.
Making days wonderful, it brings harmony.
Bestowing calmness to the mind and stillness to the soul.
The gift of wisdom is my greatest desire.
For wisdom shows forth love from beginning to end.
God, please grant me wisdom so that life will be wonderful
And I may be found worthy in the end.
© January 24, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: SERENITY RESPONSE
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Phrase Chosen: God, Grant Me…Wisdom.