Best Apportion Poems
The Man casts a shadow purulent with stealth
Having seen his apportion of nebulous days.
In fear of himself... too long on the shelf
And a vague memory of far better days.
He then lowers his head.
Overcome with a feeling of dread.
Dreaming of marmalade and bread...
As he ponders the end of his days.
"I'm the Marmalade King!" He shouts
To a world passing him by.
"I'm the Marmalade King," he pouts
To those who are left alive.
"Was I somebody once?" He reflects.
"Who was treated with gentile respect?
But I have a vehement tendency to forget
This thing for which I strive."
"There are vile beasties intent on mischief."
He whispers to a Juniper tree aside his tent.
"They task me when I am fast asleep
In a melancholy slumber of sly torment."
Now the tree failed to address
To the comments so pressed
But the King would have to confess,
"You seem a perfect and absolute gent."
"If I truly be King?" He continued to say.
"Then I should lord over all that I see.
But my Kingdom seems to have filtered away
And I'm not sure where my subjects might be.
So I will remain here on this spot
Until my loyal subjects are brought
Whether they come freely or caught,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"Oh how silly of me... I've made a mistake."
He said as he rose from his chair.
"It is good to have given my head a fair shake
As there are new facts of which I'm aware.
I've been unloading my fears
But it has now become clear
While standing right here...
My Kingdom is right over there!"
"I see you're a conifer of hearty regard,"
Said the King to the Juniper tree.
"We must do well to keep up our guard
As lesser mortals have been known to flee.
But I've come to the conclusion.
The outer world is a fallacious delusion
And if I'm meant for seclusion...
I'm glad it's just you and me."
While a callous world attempts to ignore him,
There is a venue for which he might cling.
Made only for him... less dour and grim,
Where he has control over differing things.
And in that sacrosanct place.
He will find not a whiff of disgrace.
Bathed in the love of God's Grace...
All hail the Marmalade King!!
The End
WISDOM WAS FOUND
The day moves me into this ultimate search
Of the principality that Lords over life
And rules over Kings, nobles, aged and Princes
As my desire yearns for that which is profitable to direct.
Steadfastly aiming to avoid the natural consequences
Invited by my wrong actions and life's fitful fall,
I grope for the path of the higher realm,
Then realise that even the word of God
Is searched and tried in the furnace of fire 7 times.
I surrender my eyes to her rebuke
And embark further into the land of the greats
Even the discouraging and slothful wind
Couldn't strangle my lamp
Amidst intimidating and daring storms
Where men's soul stagger not
But swaggers into celestial hall of fame,
Owing to grace, persistence and doggedness.
If only I find her, discretion will preserve me
From the perversity of the diabolic whose path is crooked,
I thought of the rags of time,
How I had stalled in movements in life's race
Where I was born to take the lead;
My heart cried for an ornament of grace.
Who shall then buy me one?
Still I hear no answer but one from me
Then I sell all that's within me just for her bosom.
Even my manliness and ego holds me not.
Who can withhold himself from speaking?
For real you have instructed many,
You have strengthened weak hands,
Your words have upheld him who was stumbling
And have strengthened the feeble frigid knees.
By the blast of God you were let loosed
And all your enemies are subdued and fade away.
God understands her way - ask Him 'how'?
And He knows her place - find it now!
For He looks to the ends of the earth,
And sees under the whole heavens,
To establish a weight for the wind,
And apportion the waters by measure
When a law was made for the rain
And a path for the thunderbolt,
Then He saw Wisdom and declared it;
Prepared it, indeed, He searched it out.
To men He said, "the fear of the Lord is wisdom
And to depart from evil is understanding."
Written by: Vick Manuel (VickWizzy)
Copyright© 2013.
Reference: New King James version (NKJV), Thomas Nelson [1978], copyright 1982, Job 28v23,28; pg301.
there is much joy to be had during the Christmas season
as people celebrate the holidays of which many find so pleasing
even thought the days are now dark with this global economic strife
we still have joy for the birthday of our savior Jesus the Christ
so how do we take this joy and apportion it from day to day?
could it be by rejoicing in Christ as we journey on our way?
there is joy to be found when one honors and worships Christ
there is a joy to be maintained as we traverse this perilous life
but for the grace of God that Jesus sent when He died on the cross
as His resurrection was the salvation to amend our tragic loss
the joy is in the journey as you travel your life's road
the joy is in the doing it's not in accomplished goals
and in spite of your circumstances, your trials and your tribulations
there is joy in just being in Christ as everyday is a cause for celebration
you won't always be happy, euphoric nor full of cheer
but great joy is found in the knowledge that Jesus is still here
so don't fall prey to drugs and drink to make you feel glad
and don't think that happiness will take away all the sad
as drugs and drink are temporary and happiness is a transient outward sensation
true joy is found with the God in you that eternal hope called salvation
as those who have the joy of the Lord in life tend to have less stress
for they are like Mary, the mother of Jesus, highly favored and truly blessed
so don't worry about the temporary external facade of happiness
by which life's circumstances can destroy
you're on the greatest journey which is your life
and in Jesus there is joy
Pyrrhic revenge
They’d eaten his books, his clothes and lean paper money,
Whetted their teeth against his coins and an old jar of honey.
They’d blown cold air nightly, as they gnawed whilst he slept,
Eating bits of his extremities that lay in the path they crept.
No out-of-bounds, for every nook they could roam,
In his one room shack - the pigsty he called home,
Pooing on his bed and table; sometimes, boldly in his stare,
And, not inside his drawers, pots and pockets, did they spare.
By heavens, for such a man in his youthful prime,
There was none dirtier; whose home had more grime,
The constant reek of gunge - what better invitation,
To every pest; flying or crawling, for cohabitation?
He’d hoped to kill the poverty that to him, had seemed to glue
With the job for which he’d been invited for an interview,
Alas! His file jacket was barely held by its leather threads,
And his results and certificates; partly eaten, were in shreds.
Enough! he’d thought, and bought a mousetrap,
With smoked fish bait, he’d soon heard the trap’s first clap,
Of the fathers, mothers and offsprings, he’d caught one,
With this and others after, he’d planned his vengeful fun.
With glee, to the street he’d stepped with the vermin,
The fate of which, only he could now determine,
He’d doused it with petrol, amidst street kids cheers,
But oblivious of his folly, and fate’s inaudible jeers.
With a single match strike, it was engulfed in flames,
And what happened next, he had none to apportion blames,
For, in blind anguish, the rat had dashed back into his room;
The house had charred, smoking with a mile high plume!
EVOL UT I ON ... NO 1 TU LOVE
(The Eden Agenda III)
I have loved most everyone, yet so few have loved me back.
So much good I have done, but suspicions aroused, they attack.
How I so long to drown my sorrows and drown in a tank of arrack.
Is it that they are taken aback, or is it ‘true love’ they truly lack?
How can one with so much love get so little love back?
As long as I have lived, I’ve lived to love so long as I’ve loved to live.
But how can I live for long in a world that does not love to give? ….nor has love enough to give?
Surely I must grieve.
…Or perhaps I shall evolve to no longer believe in all that I perceive.
Therein lies the urge for the surge of my dirge.
Rejected of love, subjected to hate - now dejected with life.
So sensitive that my soul is sliced by the blunt end of a knife.
To whom shall I turn for bandage for these emotional scars?
Even in moments of desperation I’ve looked up to the stars
For out there [I’ve been told] is that which is the Sea of Tranquility,
All I have here is a Dead Sea - in which to drown with my vulnerability.
My shadow refuses to be seen with me - it’s nowhere to be seen at high noon,
Come setting of the Sun, it runs further from me - and stretches out for the Moon.
Why do I not shine such that the Sun beams …and perhaps even squints?
Why do the vultures retch? ….and away from my carcass, the hyena sprints?
I have looked up to the raindrops from heaven - simply yearning to be kissed,
But even they, with accursed stealth - my sad lips they missed.
Who shall cut me a slice of love?
Please apportion a portion.
Who will pour me a cup of warmth?
Please don’t ration the passion.
My spirit is broken, the Spirits have spoken…
The daemons mean to take my life as a token.
Let ‘Caution’ throw me to the wind, I pray;
Havoc, please invite me out to play.
Misery, won’t you hold my hand ….everyday?
Loneliness won’t you be my friend? …Please stay.
Oh, how I feel so low, so lifeless. But then, who cares?
Just another life less….
….another life less
…just another lifeless.
The evolution of my life, I’ve looked at from back to front:
……no 1 tu love.
The creation of my life, I’ve looked, from on high to low:
…….Love from above.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
I APPRECIATE YOU
You are so swift
Across my life you always want to drift
Each time I try to up my game,
You showed the bottom and left me with no option that to apportion blame
You make my tears wet my smiles
When I go through my memory's files
For as I page through , I embrace joy as I bump into your enemy
Alas, as I flick further, I find you consistently
I appreciate you though
For you help me mature and grow
You strengthen my bone and give me wings of confidence
And I soar and rise above you with resilience
You irk when you knock on my door
But you can come and wage war
For without you I have no will to cross a barrier
You make me bitter but I appreciate you Failure.
May you gently tender whatever surrounding you
As your mother tenders you
May you generously give whoever in want
As you are given by beloved ones
May you patiently enlighten whoever innocently unaware
As you are clearly enlightened by reverend mentors
May you bountifully assist whoever helpless
As you are secretly assisted by unknown people
May you wisely share the happiness with whoever never met before
As you are well hospitalized by every warm but uninvited party
May you thoughtfully apportion the sorrow with whoever mourning
As you are wholeheartedly comforted by uninvolved others
May you always fill in others' shoes
As others tolerate you
May you always know the stamina
As Sun never fails to rise
May you always known the docility
As timely rain damps the thirsty soil
May you always know the truth
Suffer as people suffer
Enjoy as people enjoy
May you always know the best time
To be strong
To be mild
To be firm
To be acceptive
Above all
May you always know
The one
You should always extend your gratitude to
May you gently tender whatever surrounding you
As your mother tenders you
May you generously give whoever in want
As you are given by beloved ones
May you patiently enlighten whoever innocently unaware
As you are clearly enlightened by reverend mentors
May you bountifully assist whoever helpless
As you are secretly assisted by unknown people
May you wisely share the happiness with whoever never met before
As you are well hospitalized by every warm but uninvited party
May you thoughtfully apportion the sorrow with whoever mourning
As you are wholeheartedly comforted by uninvolved others
May you always fill in others' shoes
As others tolerate you
May you always know the stamina
As Sun never fails to rise
May you always known the docility
As timely rain damps the thirsty soil
May you always know the truth
Suffer as people suffer
Enjoy as people enjoy
May you always know the best time
To be strong
To be mild
To be firm
To be acceptive
Above all
May you always know
The one
You should always extend your gratitude to
Self annuity, that one fray
that disrespects its disarray,
what wrong I learned from, must relay
to self's apportion, not obey!
The slavery of respect's allay
that merits pride, admits convey
to stifling, while my greatest aye
is understanding doubt's dismay!
The mass of reverence, scant to faith,
admit my fault, except, convent,
experienced lessons make my day,
that vacuum of consent, risks pay!
What not to do ~ again, OK!
So much worry and confusion
From life’s problems and uncertainties
But the actual solution
Hidden beneath anxiety and fear
Can be found in absolution
From the blame and reproach
Then begins pure inspiration
Discovered within the simplicity
Without any exasperation
A vision starts to embark within
Creativity collides with motivation
And a revolution of kindness begins
Throughout the generations
Between parents, partners and relations
There is a genuine revelation
Assurance of intimate commitment
That comes from the sensation
The impression of conscious insight
Actually knowing this integration
This blending of hearts and minds
Between those who apportion
Every thought and idea and care
With sincerity and dedication
Love that is unconditional!
Written on August 1, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
While i understand and totally get
It's human nature to want to
apportion blame
When it comes to one's government
remember
Very rarely do the voting public agree
With the choices made on their behalf
In a democray once we have placed
our tick in a box and our votes are
tallied up
It's then solely up to them to
fulfill that duty and trust we have placed in them
Unfortunately though when it
comes to politics
Once they are voted it's every
person for the party collective
And can anyone attest to
meeting or seeing a politician
who could look anyone directly
in the eye without blinking
And thinking first and foremost
of what lie to tell as long as he
or her can count on your vote
And if anything was to go wrong
willing to take or accept blame
When the masters came breathing superiority
We became curious servants
They ruled us, they exploited us, they planted us
We cried, we laughed
They humiliated us, they enlightened us
We moan, we learn
And when they left because we clamoured
We celebrated freedom
Suddenly appear the masters again
But from among us
They redefine freedom in their context
And we hate freedom
They console us in harsher terms
And we become inconsolable
They exploit us until they extricate us
We mourn, we endure
They promise us the heavens, but in our dream
We see it fulfil
The dividends of our treasure they apportion to us
And in our grave, we recieve them
They offer us their acquired knowledge
But we clamour for transparency
They teach us the song of independence
On our lips they turn dirge
They speak the language of Democracy
And we discern Oligarchy
They teach us the principle of Federation
But the totalitarian version
If our former masters had not gone
We might have been taught better
We might have known better
We might have fared better
But with the return of our superfine masters
We are less than servants
Whether the Good Lord or Charles Darwin gave Adam his fruit
Regardless of ideology versus faith rules our common pursuit
We need to accept that life is dangerous and fraught with peril
Don’t jump the gun before facing the reaper or his rifle barrel
Instead it might help to live for today and embrace what goes on
Make hay when the sun shines before the finite moment is gone
Roses have thorns nettles may sting and snakes poison for real
Not unlike families who can spew toxins they are unable to conceal
Choose carefully with whom you share your knife to slice bread
Not rocket since that otherwise you might be prematurely dead
You can turn a worm ridden table as often as you consider fit
Oil cleans surfaces and place mats but inherent fissures can split
Share a jug of water with a hint of mint draped with olive branches
Without preconditions or anger when you apportion the tranches
If life only gives you lemons plant yet another citrus fruit tree
Sour seeds hold promise and possibilities not that easy to see
Felines are said to have nine lives but humans have no such luck
It is best to unwind and enjoy current presence before we get stuck
When you stride in your strife remember you might be an example
Children are attentive and they learn fast what might not be ample
But whatever you decide do not toss out the baby with the bath
Don’t put the cat in the microwave as it might explode on its path
25th February 2020
Make for the corner, Fresno-Whittier
(there’s neighborhoods a whole lot prettier):
it’s probably ten-ninety-six,
but don’t draw weapons – that’s a Nix.
The man before you’s not a “perp”,
so don’t come on like Wyatt Earp.
Latina (claims she’s J-Lo’s cousin)
talking nineteen to the dozen
says she almost bought the farm,
but totally (we think) unharmed.
Find the pale-blue shotgun shack:
he’s out front, and she’s out back.
Ten-zero, boys. Proceed with caution.
Blame’s not something we apportion.
They love each other – had a fight,
same as any couple might.
Bear in mind one simple thing:
no-one wants a Rodney King.
So, L.A.’s Finest, when you swoop,
he’s sitting on the streetside stoop,
and spouting incoherent crap,
samurai sword across his lap.
Don’t pay no mind to what he’s blurting –
the guy’s okay. He’s simply hurting.
Don’t see a spic from Zapopan,
look at him closely. See the man.
Don’t think, “one of the wetback horde”:
think what it took to make that sword.
Someone tempered, shaped, embossed it.
And Juan’s a man. He simply lost it.
He came up here in eighty-eight,
and settled in the Orange State.
Wielded wrenches, welded axes,
raised his kids and paid his taxes,
and now he’s slowly catching on:
there’s nothing else. His youth is gone.
He mops the floors at Taco Bell,
and Carmencita gives him hell.
He’d wail a horn, like Bobby Prewitt,
but doesn’t have the art to do it.
So let’s forget the “better than”.
Go easy, fellas. See the man.
Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces,
Makes each one of us who we are, and do become,
Each passing moment joins us and then releases.
Each passing human secures a piece and then some.
We are and will be the essence of everyone we meet.
I remember the smell, his words, my grandfather left for me.
I recall the wisdom my grandmother shared non-discreet.
Scents of her baking and cooking Sunday dinner for three,
These and so many more are embedded for natural recall.
Never searched for in your mind, etchings of time gone by,
Fragments of normal design, remembered forever after all.
They may deliver happiness, or create mourning or a sigh.
For every person you meet you take a part of their spirit.
Fragments of their emotions stick with you for at least a while.
Along with they acquire fragments from your little tidbit.
These fragments that we apportion make life so versatile.
written by
Cecil Hickman
Date written: 06-22-2011
written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name All The Little Pieces