Best Adaptations Poems
If languages were instruments,
English, the language of my own America,
Would be something like a piano.
Each word is clear and sharp-
When we sing, the note does not waver.
But I suppose it's more fair to say that
English is something like an electronic keyboard
With two hundred different modes because English
Has so many different versions,
Adaptations of other instruments,
Emulations, or imitations, however you want
To think of it; there is no accent that cannot
Be reconfigured to be
Played on keys in distinct shades
Of black or white.
Arabic though...
Arabic is more like a violin.
The sound of Arabic
Flies up and down the scale
In deliciously smooth legato,
Stopping to linger on vibrato;
Poignant
Lamentation
born among the travelers of her day
she played in the sandpile with Woody Guthrie
sung in the chorus with Allen Ginsberg
walked in the way of The Weavers
and bathed in the rhythms of Miles Davis
she lived unconfined and dreamed of change.
today, we see her still betrothed
committed to this sacred ground
searching asking, questioning, ...
consumed with her desire to know
engaged to a doctrine as a lover's pledge
she marches, occupies, writes,
relentlessly struggles, driven to ask
to whom shall she lament
for life's ambivalent adaptations?
her life defines her cogent mission.
she continues to flay against an unjust world
where equity kindness trickles down
and evaporates among negative forces.
shall she rage against God
for not eliminating suffering
in the details of man's creation?
shall she cry to the architect
who left man to face the agonies
of hunger, war, sickness,
and the loneliness of death?
to whom shall she lament
for life's ambivalent adaptations?
will the glorification of beauty
love, compassion, and mercy suffice?
will her breath, touch, hearing,
sight or taste suffice?
will her ancestors, her tribes
her spouse, her children
rise up and see her as blessed?
or will a requiem be the one
purpose of her life's fulfillment?
to whom shall she lament
for life's ambivalent adaptations?
C.A.K. 3-17-2013
The glitter of everlasting Adamantine the tower of sunlight does
not exceed its grandeur of brilliance.
One of a variety immovable monument of stones thus stands its
ability radiating from a white throne within the city of God.
We shall see streets of gold as a city, a bride, adorned for her husband.
Through twelve gates, we shall trod, on twelve foundations so holds
four square, forty and four cubits, city streets of pure gold…
liken to clear glass.
The appeal is ethics natural beauty beyond measure, a Father’s desire
to relate to the children of his pasture, the brilliance of a Son’s love.
O` Adamantine of pure virgin, thy heart’s activity, bestow on me think
again, with love’s brilliant character.
For no glitter, of worldly adaptations of parasitic ego shall exceed the
fixed sparkle of thy legal resources. Come hither, Thy holy glory, Thy
Adamantine supreme, beam across the earthly machine, to the human
minds of the gutter, so confident thy chaste outshining glitter.
O` Adamantine, O Creator thy seed distinguished may I take a walk
upon streets of gold in my new home. Manifest unto open eyes as to
thy principles of press exposed new consciousness in the area in which
I live. Apply appropriate align, outshine thus the rays of the sun for
adamantine forever is author, develop a replenish.
==============================
Sponsor Nette Onclaud Contest Name GLOW OF GLITTER
By John Moses Freeman
ad·a·man·tine
Definition of ADAMANTINE
: rigidly firm : unyielding
These are scientifically proven and believed to be the very microscopic
building blocks of all mass. God particles are paranormal physical
evidence of God’s body of Spirit. One’s natural eyes can see
the glitter of these particles everywhere in masses of trillions
once one’s eyes are trained to see them.
I grew up gay
and singing in musicals.
At the time, these two seemed coincidental,
diassociated,
although in retrospect....
Some dancing too
but with no training in that area,
more about singing.
I grew up with
The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music.
Then I stopped growing up,
and went about the sometimes cooperative business
of Mastering
Community Economic Development
Public Administration
Divinity (which Bucky would call Synergy)
and certifications
Permaculture Design,
Then I began growing out,
and shorter,
singing The Earth is Alive
in all Six NeuroSenses of Musical Adaptations.
Now I'm growing more deeply
into long term polycultural ecotherapeutic outcome planning,
cooperative economic and political health-investment,
for both interior and exterior landscapes,
polypathing co-elationally
to bicameral rhythmic heart beat and air flow,
dancing a PanTheistic Opera
as synergetically possible
through ReLigious ReGenesis
WinWin co-invested networks.
They are everywhere
once you learn to see through mind-wealth/body-health balance,
polycultural prime fractal energy octaves,
e-squared power = c-squared light
to bicameral eyes, and rooting trees,
well-pitched ears,
listening for EarthTribe sounds of music
Feeling bilateral precessive flow
like a tornado of peak sexsensory synergy
in slow,
sustained,
resiliently re-connecting
resonant love-life pace
of sacred Earth-mind gratitude
for less bad
secularized Anthro-body attitude
Loving the lively hills
and internal valleys
for calming flash mob
unmusical anger management
while dancing
crown/root re-ligious prancing
mind/body amusing skills
musically romancing.
Riveting Thread
Riveting
designs of antiquitity
Recovered ruins of the distant past
Mix and match with modern taste
Adaptations and variations
Cropped tops
High waisted pants
Shoulder pads
Corsets
Tie dye tee shirts
And acid jeans
Fringe Flapper strings and beads
Sequins
Earnings
And head bands or ornaments
Of the 1920s
Vintage
Classic, unique pieces
Collecting dust in the mere hour
Porcelain doll
Annabelle,
Her pout lips
And rosy, droopy cheeks
Find her chin
Her aquamarine eyes
Complimentary of the green olive of her puffy sleeved dress
Her head
Of strawberry blond tresses
Her cream, lace ribbon
Tied upon her curly strands
Embellished Elizabethan
Glossy polyester
In turtleneck
Two bronze bows tied upon her chest
Adorned with faded yellow wallpaper and synthetic flower ,
Golden and peachy hues
Masked by charcoal grime
Some two fingers chipped as tooth
Laced up brown cowgirl boots
Flat heel
Clicking horseshoes
Beguiled is the eye that dismisses
her rough countenance
Her owner knew not of her quality
Her value
Her brevity
A knowing eye prizes such finds
Collectables in his treasure box
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
09/03/19
There's madness in enlightenment,
preferring darkly recesses of denial
whilst moon descends sensibilities,
shedding white powder florescence
fracturing every crack & crevice,
most days long to dwell
in oblivion, remembers it fondly,
before unicorns and monsters
became real and materialized
taunting duskiest memories
always knew in her bones
that something was askew,
fear and breathlessness
a huge part of her psyche,
on the surface she seemed
to have it together but,
her marrow was aware,
as dysfunctional trembled - -
nagging blitzed neurons,
felt its prevailing intrusiveness
a foreboding presence beckoning
in blindingly echoed vocalizations,
long before time even existed
She lives in continuous disorder,
tucked away within her own reflection
chaos extruding every wakeful moment,
powerless to cease mind-boggling adaptations
4/14/17
Across the ages
There was many changes
During the beginning, middle and end of phases
Above and below any stages
Some left to be found, written upon pages
Leaving a lot or little to if any traces
Among any places
Considered tiny or spacious
Regardless of their being nearby basins
There is nothing funny about starvation
Nor the greed of certain corporations
Makes me have more rage than Jason
With a hockey mask, causing mayhem
Current situations
May have involved more complications
Close and far from any vegetation
Currency came in different faces
Among many nations
Or federations
Above and below the basement
Near and far from any pavement
People making and taking payments
Due to desperations
Some continually gave into temptations
Had hesitations
And made zero preparations
Meanwhile others reached the intended destination
Achieving a state of elevation
After much determination and hard work, followed a possible celebration
Or revelation
With concentration
Have some motivation
From within find more inspiration
While making adaptations
Throughout trials and tribulations
Many civilizations
You can see in person, or only through illustrations
Certain locations
Full of radiation
And/or known to have a dangerous reputation
Still yet to be proven with a solid explanation
Continual paranormal investigations
Regarding anything, accurate portrayals or misrepresentations
Unknown or famous
It was or wasn't caught on surveillance
Crystal clear picture quality or blurry with some grayness
Rituals conducted on certain occasions
Some of which involve shamans
Meanwhile apprentice or master, blacksmith and masons
May be wearing protective aprons
Working on something considered complex or fairly basic
Near and beyond any waters with or without crustaceans
By: Dalton Ogletree
Today I went to Haworth to the Bronte Museum
It was simply INCREDIBLE
Looking back at the lives of Emily Anne and Charlotte Bronte
The tragic lives of the family
Of their siblings dying so young
An Alcoholic brother
The death of their beloved mother
How their father coped bringing up 6 children in poverty
YET despite all this they became accomplished writers
You may have read the books or seen the TV adaptations
Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights to name but two
Seeing manuscripts, poems and personal effects was so moving
If you ever get the chance to go – do it - you won’t be disappointed
I won’t leave it another 20 years before I visit Yorkshire again!!
Jan Allison
5th August 2014
......... CONFUSION ..........
Spring bulbs peeking up and out of seclusion
wooed and urged by warmths' delusions
then scared and unprepared, unable to retreat
from entrapment
of unexpected white snowy blanket
Tree buds also seduced by warm caresses,
urged to sneak out
with bulbs blessings
Then confusion between both, uncertain
how to proceed
unable to reverse decisions made
but now how to survive and succeed
Seasons so blurred, also confused and
unsure of what to do when
Bulbs and buds seeking reassurance
and realistic answers
To Earths' plagues, pathos and cancers
Weathers' erratic moods, planets' pollutants
Countless confusions, fewer solutions
Soil in turmoil, atmosphere in disarray
Chaos and confusion, paying penalties for
supposed progress while ignoring the real price
our precious planet will pay
Multifaceted, multidisciplinary solutions
Supposed experts inserting statistics and
conclusions
Some ideas for preventing more scars
Some stupid suggestions, like living on Mars
Planet confusion a given for millions of years
Prompting facing the fears, changing the gears
Divorce not a choice but come together
in united voice
Adaptations secured survival from atom
and cell alterations
Secures survival through anger and outrage
Of chaos and confusion while seeking more
palatable and desirable solutions
non toxic
Exploring different boxes to think outside of
with concerted calm, not bad words or shoves
All I wish for is simple yet not, no pretend
For the buds and bulbs to know what to do when
That's all.............
Curb the CONFUSION.............
It was a boomerang love affair
of "once upon a midnight dreary"
preponderances mid ecstasy & woe
obliterating affection's sensibilities,
strategic mid tomorrow's yesterdays
[nectar'd apricot marmalade honey
neath sizzling hot habanero spices]
doused with tears betwixt fiery tumult
and indescribable embraced moments
clutching onto daunting fairy tales of
happily afters & no return adaptations
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
of lioness queen's jungle and
overbearing laughing hyenas
Poe - 'one upon a midnight dreary'
I was led to believe that inner beauty speaks volumes.
But chapter by chapter i am inclined to regret my hard reading.
The time has been worn down with cheap adaptations.
Furthering my belief that the past i should have no recollection.
She became tepid with her second hand emotions.
Sullen in voice yet destructive with sedation.
Page by page a new revelation.
The imbalance of honesty is sought for translation.
The binding may hold rigid standing to attention.
But its contents lack substance.
All questions but no answers.....
She wears a pure, pink dress.
Nature is her sanctuary.
Curiosity is her comfort.
She sits among the fallen, pink petals
Of the magnolia tree
And wonders:
Why must the petals plummet,
Leaving the trunk blackened and bare?
The once soft, smooth petals
Have become withered, wilted,
Their distant trunk exhausted, parched.
Why must nature be so cruel?
Why must the young mind never rest?
Juvenile questions satiate her curiosity
While existential ones suffocate.
Unexplainable phenomena maintain a habitat,
Not in the magnolia, but in her head.
The puzzle of existence overpowers
The instincts and adaptations of nature.
Science can explain the latter.
The petals must plummet
So the tree can survive
The wicked conditions of winter.
But how must the young girl grip with
The flood of unanswered reflections?
Inquiries into nature quickly become futile
For an adolescent.
Dreadful, empty pits of interrogation
Into inward contemplation creep into the mind
Creating conditions inhospitable to innocence.
If only I could tell her
To bear these ambiguities for just a little longer
before they leave her bare.
She must conquer these queries
Before they conquer her.
“A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” – Jean de La Fontaine
Trials amid tribulation
failures, gradual adaptations
life a series of grafts
some taking, others left for dead
a simple weave
making their way thru your head
stitches try to make scars
more bearable
but the shameful still bleed
from within
where are you my destiny
as I battle life alone in this bed?
stars have come out tonight
and music begins to play
sync my soul with happenstance
our future sits at bay
sip slowly from her chalice
don't let this one slip away
dreams aren't meant for dying
let the living excite the day
So many thoughts
From the shadows Jung might say
The blind drives emerge
It's the burden humans pay
The proposed Id, the ego, the superego
It's not Freudian hyperbole
Its ancient structures
Manifesting from the depths of you and me
The modern mind
Is painfully unaware of the shadows down below
We attach
Mistaking the “I” as the whole
For self awareness to occur
We have to acknowledge the drives
We must say, there “it” is
Then investigate and identify
The “it” is one part from the “I”
Yet it's a part of the whole
When it rears its head out of the shadows
Stop! don't fight, say hello
Say hello to the anger
Hello to the stress and anxiety
Recognize
Now detach; let go of the distorted image known as me
We now relish in the thoughts
We appreciate the adaptations of the human mind
We have self-compassion
We begin to live and think wise
The shadows are a part
Of that which makes us whole
Say, there “it” is
Now the “I” can let "it" go
Should superstition be a religion
believing in luck either way,
don’t walk under ladders, beware of black cats
and knock on wood everyday.
Nobody tells you the rules
yet millions of people comply,
to some it’s a way of life
but most of them don’t know why.
When changing our environment
we use interpretations,
the basic ideas are the same
just different adaptations.
I have no idea when it started
or anyone I can blame,
so whether it’s faith, fate or luck
the mystery remains the same.