Best Affirmed Poems
I wished to ascend,
so I called a friend,
who knew of such things
and how to grow wings.
‘God’s abode’s within’,
he said, ‘so begin,
by simply choosing,
head and heart, fusing’.
‘Each impulse distil,
aligned with His will’.
So I set out thus,
aboard God’s love bus.
I reached heaven’s gate
and there chose to wait,
for the gate was locked,
so I stood there docked.
A voice then affirmed
that I’d have discerned,
the gate’s my ego,
which I must forgo.
Once there’s no blockage
and no desires rage,
cleansed of every sin,
I may then walk in.
I cowered in fear,
for my life was dear.
What’s left, if I die?
Is heaven, a lie?
Conscience egged me on,
ego shorn, reborn,
the false dropped away;
I saw then God’s play!
I was living light,
shining day and night.
The gate was but thought,
fears, ego begot.
The manifest world,
but intent unfurled,
to know all are one,
each being God’s son.
Life’s a lucid dream,
where thought forms do stream.
To exit this game,
simply take God’s name.
The rot’s sunk in deep.
How long will we sleep?
There’s no gate, dear friend.
Vaporise! Ascend!
23-June-2022
One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Syllables: HMS
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Images grace the page like velvet over skin,
caressing the senses fine as red wine…
And we all take a sip of poetic lines,
connecting people from varied time frames,
while through heartfelt exchanges, the site
becomes a family that bridges rails of pain,
love, or anger . Oh how messages
fill our souped-up boxes with personal notes,
to express simple or complex views on a
glassy leaf of a screen.
Our need to relate deeply among so many
whose voices and faces are neither heard
nor seen , marks the thumbprint of friendship :
reaching out daily to light up
each others' moment, enduring someone’s brief
absence while affection blooms through a
warm nourishment of the soul, drinking
in the flavor brewed by the fusion of affinity
as soup-minstrels gather around
the circle’s bonfire… refreshed, enriched, re-affirmed.
Said the Chipmunk to the Hawk
Said scared, little, tail-striped chipmunk to red-tailed hawk,
“I am hidden over there where you will not find me.”
Said hawk in a swoop to another branch, “Jiggle that
tail again, so I’ll dive and sweep you off to heaven!”
Crouching as flat to the earth as she could be, chip-
munk said, “But I am already there where all points
of heaven reveal bliss...” which did perplex red-tail hawk,
who gawked up, then scanned all around for
some clue of heaven in this forest he knew he knew,
as she provoked, “You see?” But with his instincts
darting everywhere, hawk replied, “You lie! You
make riddles of my threat!” To which she flashed to
the opening of her tunnel, quick as light, calling,
“Heaven does contrive for good in life!” Hawk
affirmed a new place of some prey and turned.
Was he not made to hunt? Not for dramas like this?
Hawk bent over his feet, lifted his wings into flight
aimed at rustling leaves not far away. Hawk, while in
his flash, asked his forest, “Heaven, does it spread
as far as over there where I go?” Forest said, “No know,
no.” Hawk did not understand...In her tunnel, chip-
munk dropped two acorns from her cheeks to eat.
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(c) sally Young eslinger 2/2021
His voice the hiss of serpents,
he acknowledged the pact unmade,
but now he was here to tell him
how the debt would be repaid.
"All your sons, and all their sons,"
the devil's eyes glowed red,
"will perish while still very young,
yes, all of them, cold and dead."
With that, the devil vanished,
not long after, Joseph died,
and Jack, now the eldest,
found his career on the rise.
He married a well-bred woman,
she made a beautiful bride,
but their first-born child, a son,
very quickly died.
But how the public loved him,
the White House was Camelot,
but Satan hadn't forgotten,
and guided Oswald's shot.
Next in line was Bobby,
and he soon, too, was slain,
now Edward became paranoid,
though justified, ashamed.
Edward wasn't pleased with God,
the curse of his surname,
he knew someone would kill him,
if only for the fame.
And, one day, those fateful words
slipped through his lips as well,
the devil appeared as a gent,
and with a pact to sell.
Now, Edward was not evil,
but perhaps a little weak,
vehemently he refused, at first,
but Satan continued to speak.
The devil knew his weak spots,
affirmed he'd soon be dead,
then offered an alternative,
made up of hope and dread.
"You will live a long and worthwhile life,
and your children will live, too,
but in exchange for these gifts,
there are two things you must do:
You must find a young and innocent girl
and give her soul to me.
You, alone, must take her life,
but you'll escape scot-free.
The other thing you must give me
is your most passionate dream,
that is, to become president,"
the devil's smile obscene.
Well, Chappaquiddick happened,
and he got off scot-free,
I think he tried to be the best,
most honorable he could be.
But Satan keeps his promises,
and John-John's plane went down,
and now the pact is finished,
for there's no more left around.
©Danielle White
Dusk fades again…must I entreat.
As glimpses peer over the sea;
Past borders of uncertainty.
Where love's yearning becomes a feat .
The minutes change to waves and rhyme
Nights follow his prints…sand aflame;
This trace I feel from whither came
My destiny on edge of time:
A breath; a sigh, I turn alone
A whisper blows as moments freeze--
The distant shores, a fleeting breeze
My prayers dull like hardened stone:
One rowboat tugs along the quay
Yet his image through mist unseen...
Until he calls behind moon's sheen
Our faith affirmed from heaven's ray.
John Hamilton's Best Rhyming Poem
April-July15,2018 Contest
Written 6/19/2018 Repost 7/10/2018
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
logic says it cannot be so
have we walked through a time warp door
we can rest not, until we know
perhaps we’re perched on time’s hilltop
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
reality shifts, doubts don’t stop
truth of what is, we can’t ignore
yielding, we give silence the floor
whence we see that life is a dream
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
refrains replayed on a moonbeam
mind illumined, heart sings a song
clairvoyance affirmed in folklore
though now we know, we play along
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
Tribute to Sam Kauffman
Jubilant!!! Indeed reigning with serenity
her earnest words exalt the Supreme Almighty
“Breathe of God” “Giving Godly Grace” surely proclaims
“Lord of the Morning” --- “Resurrection” verity.
Triumphant!!! Such expresses her hope so gracious
midst “Agape” showing “Joy of the Lord” --- precious
from “Eternal Emmanuel” “Our Bountiful God”
oh, “Amazing Grace Inspired” healing the anxious.
Radiant!!! Her poems shine along great Saviour’s glow
affirmed by “Redeeming Faith in God” of trust-flow
with her reliance to HIS “Eternal Embrace”
as “Prayer Warrior Blessings” she knows will follow.
Vibrant!!! That marks her sweet relationship with Christ
echoing “I Thank my God” since she’s well sufficed
filled by “Treasures of my Soul” she does testify
in her “Psalm* of Joy” lyrics, wholeheartedly priced.
Colossians 3:16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.
May 26, 2021
2nd place, "Title Wave" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux; judged on 6/28/2021.
“Wandering through empty and crowded streets with no destination in sight and sleeping under the sky with the fire burning inside was my life, the life of a vagabond. Survival is a funny game and life is an endless odyssey for survival” ~ By Poet
Homeless, a wanderer all his life.
An orphan, he was raised in the streets.
Mongrel dogs and gypsies were his company.
He had wild days and dolorous times.
At nights, he curled up on street corners,
Had brawls with other street children.
But as he grew up, he began nursing a dream,
To own a home and no more be a vagabond.
He took up odd jobs and worked day in and out.
Over time, against heavy odds
A little hovel, he did build,
In a verdant stretch of fertile land
Off the noisy, frenzied crowd
With sheaves of hay, he thatched its roof.
With reed and bamboo, its walls were made.
With mud and charcoal, its floor was glazed.
With wooden planks, its entrance he laid.
At dusk, when birds to their nests depart,
And beasts, to their covert burrows and dens,
After the day’s toil, weary and weak,
He curls into the cozy comfort of his home.
Through months and years, it gave him succor.
Sheltered him from storm and rain.
Made him differ from the gypsy tribe.
Lent him a footing in this populous world.
He wove around it many a dream.
With frugal care, his needs he met.
Like a squirrel stocking nuts and grains,
In it's secret granary for the rainy days,
He saved all that he had earned,
For a life to be lived later in bliss.
But alas!
His haven lies so derelict!
Its very foundation raced to the ground.
The once beautiful stretch of land,
Robbed of its greenery and grace!
The eviction squad usurped his land,
Hurling him down to the streets!
Making him once again a vagabond…
Bewildered, failing to budge an inch,
Like a boat, midway stranded in sea, he stood.
But his resilient spirits, to him affirmed,
‘Never defeated, though destroyed'
Soon the mud hovel, to a palatial mansion turned.
Where he envisioned himself as king of the land.
His smiling progeny picking fruits from his orchard,
And his cattle chewing cud in the shade of trees.
Why scoff it as the fancy of a fevered mind?
Oh! But to dream is every man's right.
LOVE FLOWERS
Love relates and liberates
Mutual trust procreates,
Enlarging all as it grows;
Love flowers as it flows.
Love's rapport binds and bonds
Affirmed in whispers fond,
And prospers like blossom grows;
Love flowers as it flows.
A pleasured prized and treasured,
Unselfishin it's measure
Requited quid pro quo;
Love flowers as it flows.
We release our hidden grace
As barriers unlace
When each the other knows;
Love flowers as it flows.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Absolute by absolute is given
Mystery curtained by a spiral heaven
And we mere dancers by the music driven
Know not what in the debt forgiven
Love begot love in its wholesome image
Not in content but the substance of knowledge
We worship the passion of the savage
Denying truth through the carnal carnage
Love is God, and love is of God, children
Man is of God, and God in all men
We are love, not feelings like the heathen
We are more than mortal memory ken.
Angels sang in heaven when he made us
Pictures of himself from his sacred dust
Then bequeathed us dominions affirmed by trust
Placed us in time to temper us
All that is seen is from the unseen made
God's love bruised, battered, reduced, afraid
Is a mental picture sin's illusion persuade
Love is restored triumphant by love obeyed.
Here I am again hiking near a mountaintop
as the aroma of hibiscus reminds me
of my charmed youth, of a serenity the winds
cannot contain. As I reach its mid- peak,
my breath spills of gratitude, gently affirmed.
It didn't matter if maple trees were older now
perhaps, rustling hems of boughs
or if the mossy ferns gathered like cracked
thistles on a late afternoon.
I was bathed with soft of light beyond
the ridges inhaling the serene madness
of a nature-pilgrim... as if the moment
stretched into a dance of family trails.
I wander on… and now, my sweet memory retains
a journey of girlhood days: on Mt.Cordillera,
the fullness of my spring lips, my summer cheeks
embrace a rapture I am unable to touch
or cuddle in my arms.
While gazing at how new starlight emit its beauty;
all I know is on this angelic evening’s bliss…
I become a child of eight again.
Mountains Contest Sponsored by Julie Rodeheaver
Submitted 8/13/2017
Blessed by God as a full-blooded Filipina
I’m endowed with great cultural heritage of Asia
Distinctively that of the Benguet “Kankana-ey” tribe of the Cordillera
Enriching my country, the Philippines, of her unique role in the global agenda.
Grateful am I to the Lord for my tribe’s awareness of the Deity
Shown by my forefathers’ acknowledgment of the Supreme Being’s authority
Thru their festivities and rituals revealing their trust in the God Almighty…
Igniting my faith toward genuine Christianity and biblical spirituality.
I salute my tribe mates for their respect to creation and steadfast preservation of nature
Affirmed by their diligent gardening and productive, yet prudent farming venture
Making them stalwart guardians of their environment, their bounty-pasture
While invoking the Divine Providence against calamities thru sincere offerings’ gesture.
Gladness* couples my appreciation to our tribe’s close family ties and intimate engagements
During bonding moments over cups of coffee and meals along conversation merriments
Especially in clans’ get-together for weddings and feastings’ enjoyments
Aside from reunions in funerals filled with reminiscences of varied sentiments and predicaments.
My tribe with its peculiar culture is commendable indeed
Steadfastly strong in its identity of tenacious influential creed
As it welcomes changes of betterment and prosperity’s seed
Midst technological development toward progress-breed!
*Psalm 4:7 Thou (LORD) hast put gladness in my heart...
December 1, 2018
3rd place, "TRIBUTE TO NATIVE CULTURE" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 12/15/2018.
Cycle of Seasons
vernal equinox
pollen proliferation
spring rebirth affirmed
busy bees buzzing
beautiful birds building nests
winter gloom erased
dormant seeds take root
blossoms bloom birdsong elates
spring nearing its end
summer solstice comes
verdant landscape sandy beach
families frolic
short summer showers
heat and humidity reign
sunlight lingers on
temperatures lag
cheerful chirping of crickets
last gasp of summer
autumn equinox
turning leaves migrating birds
early morning chill
leaf-peeping pastime
harvest cornucopia
real time falls behind
fall’s first killing frost
season of melancholy
cold of winter near
winter solstice comes
bare trees long hibernation
don’t risk bleeding lips
gardens lie fallow
field mice attempting entry
long dark frigid nights
snowfall slowly melts
winter giving way to spring
first mosquito bite
Love is
Love is special
Romantic feelings
Sensual thoughts
Hope and expectations
Seize the moment!
Love is a real drug
Casting a spell
On one’s inner psyche
Bringing pleasure
Leaving a message!
Love is with you
As one sees answers
In the eyes and heart
Emotions so special
Feel our love whole!
Love is alchemy pure
Paracelsian—yes
A dramatic power
Emotion + Passion + Joy
Equals Love so pure!
Love is the reddest rose
Supreme symbol of love
Flower of pulchritude
Sends a clear message
Love signal affirmed!
Love is magical
Love is majestic
Love is divine
Love is God’s Gift
Love is God’s Love!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 13, 2015 (Accentual Meter)
In my day we played outside, riding horses,
Playing hide and seek and on swings and slides.
And only on rainy days
Were we confined inside to play.
We played slap jack, crazy eight, go fish
And Lincoln logs was our dish.
Everyone drank coffee and tea
No caffeine worries did they see
All our houses were painted bright
And no one heard of the lead base plight
The new homes of the day had asbestos,
But what the hey!
This was during World War II
Where our fathers, brothers, uncles and aunts
Left our homes for foreign lands.
Here at home when sirens screamed
It was our Air Raid Warning Drill.
And companies that worked through the night
Were required to paint their windows black
Safety was our countries goal
Here at home and on foreign soil.
We played at the lake and tanned or fried
When we got home a little cow cream was applied.
Where I lived prohibition was still affirmed
And Bootleggers were the cops major concern.
The air we breathed was just air
Unless a corral or hog farm were near.
Transportation was car, bus or train
The only planes I ever saw
Were B 29’s heading for foreign soil.
I can’t help but wonder how we survived
Compared to the rules and laws we now abide.
I just heard a well known man say
“No more Santa Claus he is to fat”
“It’s bad for kids to honor a man like that.”
The Christmas tree has become “Happy Holiday”
No prayers in school, It breaks the rules they say.
Religion in government there is no place
“In God We Trust” is a disgrace.
When was the last time the Constitution was read
Were our Forefathers out of their heads?
“Merry Holidays too and you best take a stand
If you want to continue to have Peace in Our Land.”