Best Adopts Poems
punctuation walks
on eggshells
when
words like
water
falls
flow into nothingness,
soaked in syrupy syllables
behind veiled vowels
assonance is the twin of
consonance as
a e i o u
are an
unfinished bridge
without connection
of consonants
weaved together
in visible
unspoken actions
woven without words
just like rhythmic meter
of thunder with lightning
like a lost refrain in a poem
assembled with enjambment
metaphorical reflections of a
reflective metaphor portray a
m i r a g e less sincere than silence
value blossoms
when the body adopts
a gospel language
where speech
is unnecessary
unless expressed
through true
dialects of conduct
without the use of
lyrical accessories.
God adopts each child
Whose
Parents in heaven has
Called!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
19 August 2015
Humanity Exists As Sad Creatures With Evil Skins
Reprieve may be a fine desert or a freedom to live
A blessing freely granted or the power to freely give
But we must dare admit what immense courage some things take
And use our smart brains to identify the sorrowful fakes
For humans react to threats in many kinds of strange ways
But evil exists and demand opponents dearly pays
War savagery that with pure delight evil men do
Truth is one sorrowful day it may attack me and you
This world to oft engages in darkness and destruction
Mankind adopts wickedness as primary instructions
We have no true safeguards when war its ugly head does raise
Best if we trust our God, and give his Son our faithful praise.
Humanity exists as sad creatures with evil skins.
Full of selfish desires, greed in hearts of women and men.
Robert J. Lindley, dark sonnet
Jan. 21st, 1972
Note. This is the truth about humanity.
Unless under Christ's banner, they too oft exist as evil creatures on the take, imho.
These glorious colors of hope in the sky,
From red to violet to blue,
Depend on the gaze of each peering lover,
It differs from each point of view,
You see, sunlight bounces off its own water drop,
Adopts a color to share,
And heads straight to your lovely soul,
Controlled by the love in the air,
So what you see is a little different to me,
Different shades from the arc way up high,
Made by different tints of an ocean,
Emotions that come from the sky.
Ma’am
By
Jude Kyrie
I remember the first time I met her
It was at the orphanage.
I was going through rehabilitation
after running away for what
turned out to be last of many times
I was a lifer.
Who wants to adopts fourteen
year old boys?
Apparently no one.
She was assigned as my counselor
I don't think I have
ever seen anyone as beautiful as her.
That lovely angelic face.
Oh! her smile,
it was like sunshine.
Unsure of how to address a Nun
I always called her Ma’am.
She did not seem to mind
Her heart was full of kindness
I was hooked.
I think that was when I realized
she was the only friend I had.
What I did not know was
I was falling in love with her.
That confusing rite of passage
from Boyhood to Manhood
left me dazed and confused.
Or perhaps I just needed
someone to love.
I have never seen
as much kindness
before or since.
It flowed from her
like honey.
She stopped me
from running away again,
and taught me
how to read books
great books
by important authors.
To learn poetry
and to talk about
its meaning.
At this point I knew
for sure I loved her.
She took me to
the mission where
the homeless lived
and we served
in the free kitchen.
I would have followed
her to the moon
or anywhere.
She was relocated
after a couple of years.
To a mission in Africa.
I was desolate
Begging to go with her.
I even asked her to marry me.
She smiled and said
if she was free
she would marry me
in a heartbeat.
But she explained gently
to my young heart
that she was already
married to her faith.
Showing me her gold ring.
She whispered see
I am a bride of Christ.
She died a few years later
her letters stopped coming
It was a bout of malaria
that took her.
Now when I feel
alone or sad.
I open an old shoe box
that I kept from
the orphanage
And I re-read her
stacks of letters.
one by one.
Always in the order
that she sent them to me.
And as usual
I feel warm and safe again.
Science cannot explain happenings
Understanding is shot, blind assimilation is the only way
Possibilities only entangle with beliefs
Events bringing lucks possibly in both directions
Rare is its marriage with truth
Society adopts, such stories adhere to the mind
Taking with it some level of seriousness
In addition to making a few childhood scare.
Tries to connect the disjointed links
Irrespective of the distance in deviation, but
Over the years, the mind gets deeper
No worries at all! It’s just the Disney aspect of our lives
Sunlit rays gild a coppery Moon;
intensifying Her golden glow.
And She shimmers like a gold doubloon;
in a creek, where rippled waters flow.
She adopts a halo over time;
highlighting Her celestial ascent.
And like a Goddess, She starts Her climb;
a starlet in this gala event.
An ebony curtain pierced by stars
ushers in the beauty of the Night.
And a red blush tints the planet Mars;
as Venus reveals Her virgin light.
Birds surrender the night skies to bats;
playing hide and seek with skittish moths.
And along with silken welcome mates,
spiders spin intricate tablecloths.
Dark swallows the relevance of Day;
imposing itself upon the Night.
And color silently fades away;
amidst the last vestiges of light.
When depression overshadows sunlight,
making me pine for Nature's solitude;
I head off to my favorite campsite.
Nature's tranquility is a delight;
while city life tends to leave me unglued,
when depression overshadows sunlight.
When I'm debating choosing fight or flight,
slipping into a melancholy mood,
I head off to my favorite campsite.
Replacing neon lighting with starlight
gets my spirit rekindled and renewed,
when depression overshadows sunlight.
At those times when nothing I do feels right,
and the whole world adopts an attitude,
I head off to my favorite campsite.
I love to sit alone in the moonlight;
and enjoy Nature's tranquil quietude.
When depression overshadows sunlight,
I head off to my favorite campsite.
The old woman sits hunched like a spider,
Spinning bitter dreams from the great arm chair,
Ivory lace, frayed fine and soiled full foul,
Ceaseless inhabitation has shrunken.
Hair matted tight a web is woven strong,
Her nails broken, hooked and clawed pull the threads,
She is shriveled shrunk and crinkled in her mold.
Stale air hangs with her ages throughout the house,
Dust creeps through the cracks to form a carpet,
Mold peels plaster down from off once white walls,
But the clock is stopped with the turn of her mind.
The crumpled remains of a great feast planned,
Lay forsaken on a table in the room.
On that carven table will they lay her,
When dead in her betrayed array shrouded.
Yet still deformed life burns bright in that soul,
Projecting the image of a young girl.
"I offered him my heart, my fortune, all.
He wanted me not, yet he courted me well.
He is delayed, believe not I’m betrayed,
Ever will I wait, in white thus arrayed;
To wait is to come to hate, now too late."
The woman fell, tripped by dusty trains trailing,
Hand out to her other self she cried out:
“Oh I am tired! Pity my troubles…”
The struggle complete, on the table she lay.
NOTE:
In Dicken’s classic novel, GREAT EXPECTATIONS, Miss Havisham is jilted at the altar by her intended and spends the rest of her life locked away in her mansion wearing her wedding dress. She adopts young Estella to bring up as her daughter and teaches her to hate men.
November sets emerald leaves ablaze,
igniting flames of scarlet and cerise.
And as long nights overshadow short days,
Mother Nature unveils Her masterpiece.
Scarecrows are left guarding empty gardens,
while Jack Frost's brush colors the dying leaves.
And two Thanksgiving turkeys get pardons
as Fall's brisk breezes strip the trees like thieves.
Autumn adopts an orange undertone,
as the fields are gleaned and canopies thinned.
And the naked trees get stripped to the bone,
skeletal branches rattling in the wind.
December triggers the death throes of Fall,
whereas the flowers all shrivel and die.
And the geese fly south with a honking call;
trumpeting, that Winter will soon drop by.
Wiggledy-Jiggledy
The legend Imran Khan
Trying his best__ to bring
The stolen wealth
The Mafia is strong
Spirituality
He adopts, to improve
Country's ill health
___________________________°
(1st Feb. 2021)
Paghunda Zahid
(Former cricket star, humanitarian and the current prime minister of Pakistan, who is fighting against the deep rooted corrupt system.
Owner of free cancer hospital SKMCS, & NUML University {he built them before stepping into politics})
"Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because the world is not ideal"
“Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because other perspectives-routes to solving the problem-equations have not been taken into consideration-discovered”
“Not everything about mathematics is realistic maybe because they are various ways-perspectives of solving-looking at a problem rather than the already discovered ways”
"A genius is one that bridges ~ connects ~ explains ~ takes us closer to sanity while enabling us see ~ appreciate ~ acknowledge how farther (our trail is away from insanity) we've walked away from insanity"
"A genius is one who derives, adopts, adapts and creates from the original"
"Wisdom is exhibited by knowing, knowing appropriately, understanding, understanding appropriately, and then doing and doing appropriately-rightly-accordingly-ideally and not solely by subjectiveness (prejudice)".... while learning, by comparison, study, wholeheartedness (totality of effort), diligence, sincerity, impartiality, transparency, openness, reception..."
"A genius is one who has some knowledge or understanding about and between the actual and the ideal (original)"
“Knowing the truth is not wisdom, wisdom is doing the truth”
"Our choices in deciding certain things in life are reflections of our motives, what we
are, and a partial reflection of who we are"
"Who we are is defined and what we choose to do is not an excuse for who we are"
Form:
Boy
Isolate
Without love
Sandra Bullock
Adopts
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I adopted a baby grandma said
Who would let that old woman adopt?
They’d have to be wrong in their head
We did not run over there, we thought it was a lie
It has to be right? Said Dorothy, Buddy and Di.
But believe it or not, she adopted a fellow.
Knit him blankets and booties all in soft yellow
An orangutan baby, she is leaving to us.
His name is Gus and he’s a cute little cuss.
My Home
Diurnal prayer, "Praise the breath in me."
I plucked the honeysuckle of the Sun,
And grouped it on the chamber windowpane,
Save a trip during senses pair, smell, sight.
Painted a bird, perceived that it held firm,
Circumnavigated, adopts the sky,
Possessed during flight, the heart from my niche,
Acquired its course on some nest, where it stays,
While rare wonderment, some docile sheet prop
Against patterned desk, ambushed orbs boost plus
Dips, an African safari relief,
I perceive a remarkable presence
Encompassing me, a baseball in mitts,
Leather scents the room, succeeding flowers
From morning growth, promptly eve waives the Sun,
Seizing method, grooves of a desk melds,
Cascading warm wetness lifts per young heart,
Retreating through a room via some lights,
The gods, Lunar succeeds Solar, trade blows,
Constellate the beyond all Stargazers,
Soon sights observe a stellar relief sky,
Delinquent, charts the weightiness of lids,
A sole soul fumble chambered memories,
Nocturnal prayer, "I will be there soon."
2019 August 17
*3rd Place*
My Home
~~Lu Loo