Best Ascribe Poems
With featherpen in hand,
I ascribe anew.
On tablet command
my point-of-view,
one for only them to see.
These two objects won't disagree.
I hold them together, as they do me.
The life we choose the choices we make
Knowing how much to give knowing how much to take
Now this equation is not simple at least not for me to ascribe
For a lifetime worth of pain and not once have I cried
It's not remedies or reason for this affliction which I seek
For I am pleased with the joys I have given while not needing to weep
Yet I cant help but wonder though as yet I have not tried
Would my life had been much different were I able to cry
For I have seen the results of tears when they are freely shed
How embraces would soon follow with soft strokes to ones head
Now I can love and be tender without much effort or strain
Yet I am unable to give comfort when tears fall like the rain
But I will always be loving and Gods gifts to me I will share
And maybe the day I meet him in heaven will be the day I shed my tear
All creation sings your praises,
Thou who angels love to praise.
Singing holy, holy, holy
round Your throne in heav’n above.
Feathered creatures of all species
worship You at each new dawn.
Joining in a joyful chorus
praising You for each new day.
Wind and rain with trees of forest
join in singing praise to You.
Leaves vibrating making music,
as the rainstorm rustles them.
Sun and moon and stars in heaven
praise You their Creator, great.
As the sun vibrates its vocals
moon and stars ascribe You praise.
Let us all as image-bearers
of the God who gives us life.
Join with all of His creation
Singing praises to our God.
Praise Him for the great salvation
purchased by His Son made flesh.
So that man redeemed and ransomed
Will one day with angels sing.
Iambic Pentameter
A renaissance delight beguiles our sight.
Such enigmatic smile on face doth hold
our wonder why such cheer's in gentle light,
and hidden secret's veiled from view untold.
What name do we ascribe to model's grace.
Is she from noble family fame and ease,
but certain nomen's sore to know or trace,
for artist gave us no clue known to seize.
Does picture only show a simple gaze
of painter's own self seen in lake that day,
well hidden by disguise in lady's praise?
A genius played a game some few would say.
If game is played, tis more a better scene.
Let be, for maid appears a regal queen.
The gaps in her sentences
are always filled with insights from others
Who prompt her to speak a truth she does not ascribe to
They witter and order and claim her thoughts as their own
Changing the essence of what she feels
so that she offers saccharine lies
Seething inside she wonders at a world where reality is desecrate
the rubbing away of hard edges
Grinding her down in the process
Her pauses are all she has, reflections of herself
The gaps in her sentences
A testament to the woman she wishes to be
WHICH POEM TO READ?
Adore a poem that fascinates and entices me
Touching each heart string with sadness or glee
Poets that pen imaginatively and bring,
Fantasy to life, love poems now that's my thing,
Then, look for a read with breath taking scenery!
Like it when Poets of themselves describe,
To this kind of poetry I ascribe,
Look for writes, in which I see
The crazy, creative, arty side of me
Or an unexpected ending,I enjoy and prescribe.
To be Entered in
"Fave Poetry Contest" Sponsored by; Line Gauthier
I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc
We all have the capacity to worship
having been created for that noble matter
but we're so full of self-loving ourselves
telling everyone we know so full of chatter
God has designed us to worship Him
and only Him alone for He is God alone
the atheist has removed God from their mind
thinking they're well proud they're prone
For in worshipping nothing they value nothing
life is meaningless so being unsatisfied
so in denying God they worship themselves
proving nothing but in God who they denied
God calls His own to worship
to bow before His great holy name
recognising the God of very God
who is the almighty as is His claim
All correct worship has only one aim
the great sovereign God claims His due
that all mankind worship God alone
scriptures show this be fully true
(Ascribe to the Lord, O families of the peoples,
ascribe to the Lord glory and strength!
Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name;
bring an offering, and come into his courts!
Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness;
tremble before him, all the earth!)
Psalm 96: 7-9 (esv)
cunning whist’red the wind
through bulwarks of my youth
cloaked in kindness its sly craft
masked in plotting feign’d truth
the scent of damp stone and moss
clung to my marrow
voices in each gust
defiant i stood on the brink
slumber’ring in ire’s enlace
with sly deceit danced outcome
and beguiled dreams took stage apace
the bitter tang of shadowed air
the quell of trembling leaves
twilled with the evil of withheld grace
vain are stars that once foretold
boast not what thou’st dealt
the conqueror an umbral mist walks
in wilderness where none hath knelt
soil crumbles underfoot
cold dew bites the ankles of night
sweet—and awful—sang the muteness
after the third new moon pass’d
grim hunger prevails
hangs where sojourners draw breath
their last
the coppery taste of fear
lingers in the throat
as stillness gnaws the spectral lungs
not for bread i starve
but for meaning
in vale and entombed mountain roam
judgment echoes field and forest
sunward songs mount toward doom
rustle of leaf
bark-scratch under nails
carry the weight of unseen eyes
thorn’d breaths of abyssal wind
my failing prostrate i ascribe
to flagrant flame
incurably untam’d
a whirling squall of dissipation
drunkenness of nameless claim
the acrid smoke of wasted fire
licks the tongue of legacy
shadow’d cinders curl in the mind
indignation binds me captive
a dungeon endless dark and grim
vile guilty stricken wholly
no mortal left to shield or limb
chains clash rattle in marrow’s obscurity
iron scents the air with accusation
yet manifest soulless one
fervent fierce and torn
momentary affliction sways
in transient shape of mourn
cool sweat bitter ashen traces
mingle with tremor of fleeting heart
tired i am
weak i am
worn i am
yet still
i rise
though wretched rent
to meet the sweet and awful dawn
with every scar fetch’d and spent
light trembles on dew-beaten leaves
first air pungent and raw
fills lungs with promise
of endurance
cunning whist’red the wind
Checking for precept in déjà vu preview
Abstaining from the way monkeys do
Building a meaningful relationship with you
Will you be a precept of Adam’s rib come into view
The concept of fleshly rib is just not déjà vu
No logic of flesh has ever been true for you
Seeking new wine of déjà vu preview
From sacred heart playing it by ear for you
I will ascribe to no bribe, of Pharisee scribe
No carnal works of past hobbies shall abide
We shall observe that which is true.. in the sky clear and blue
As heavenly particles of spiritual bliss come into view
The man shall command and flesh will not withstand
Brides shall abide in beauty and pride of Agape confide
For as the way a human concept see, is the way it shall ever be
And the logic by which it sees… shall infest of fleas
For as a man thinketh so shall he ever be…
In the logic of self pride, until Agape confide
Dedicated to Robbie, most current Agape hobby
She encouraged the adamant… Agape, grown sloppy.
by John Moses Freeman
I'm filled with wonder and dismay.
Is life real, a dream, illusion?
A construct, maybe, I could say,
who'd author such confusion?
If me, I dread what might portend;
I'm not that good with tools.
Others think they comprehend,
maybe sages...likely fools.
Call up all the ones I know;
sample their opinions.
Then I’d have to stem the flow
of disparate dominions.
Dogmas are too quickly brought,
too readily believed;
words most keenly wrought
serve often to deceive.
Some explain it all away,
ascribe it to God’s will.
Doesn't this free will betray,
doubt in self instill?
So I write what I call verse—
toil with metered rhyme—
crafted well, both tight and terse,
ardor most sublime.
Thank you all for treasured prose,
honor for what’s mine—
stanzas, lines that we compose
touch briefly the divine.
My ancient Arabs know exactly how to tell a tale,
Of hardship, kinsman, outcasts, how to be so strong,
Withstanding weather, find your way, what it does entail
To fight a world alone, with nowhere to belong.
I like to think it is a metaphor, not an exact rendition.
A simile of sorts, no different from Bible or Qur’an.
A handbook, of how life can cast you out as clansman.
If preprogrammed molds don’t fit woman or man,
Shanfara found his way by choosing a direction,
Completely opposite of where his brothers rode.
He found his new kin amongst beings, all not human.
To him man does ascribe this still illustrious ode.
For you, my brigand poet, I write this loving poem,
You mean so much to me, like you I do not fit so well,
And am forever searching, But I am not seen as scum.
My su’luk, my traveler, I stay and have your tale to tell.
***
January 17, 2016
© Darren White
Iridescence and subliminal flow has condensed within your fragrant bower,
a scene of isolated beauty that portrays the essence of all splendour and redeeming
power.
You are repose and renewal to my longing soul
which in hunger for such a sight could have stayed unrequited still!
barren and with plighted role unto my desperate ill.
Now seen suffused in the radiant glow of you, like mirrors
are placed surrounding flowers inset in your resting place or in bunches,
frieze like and still, are coloured floral showers.
They experience no passing hour, in lilac clad repose, you gift this domain
with abundant russet locks a’ spray in a cascade of feral purity
shining vibrant gleams, diaphanous and serenity proclaimed.
You exude ephemeral and delicate majesty in coalescence
with this limpid mystic scene, pure spiritual visions profound combine
with siren-like illusion seen.
Desire calls as from traces etched on heavenly walls,
reflected pinions fan-like show through emerald hued illumination
in subtle sweeps below the surface of this inviolable creation.
© Joe Maverick 21-02-2011
Footnote: I have written this piece for the Reflections contest by Constance La
France. This is a fictional write and I ascribe none of the above attributes to the
scene or character names, these same attributes belonging solely to Yahwah, the
one God manifest as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Here is to you crazy fellas
Those who are covenanted to the religion of distinctiveness
And heralds of unique unthinkable patterns
Here is a salute to you
Those, who against the popular opinion and trend, stick to their principles and confession
Thus cementing their loyalty and guaranteed blessings
Here is a tribute to you
Those, who go against traditions in a bid to creating new arts and unconditional techniques
Thus cementing their status as dynamic civilization heralds
Here is to the dogged ones
Those who despite numerous failures, get back up and try for one more time
Thus embedding their names in the scrolls of the victorious
Here is a much needed recognition
Those, behind the scenes who humbly strive to attain victory, (which most people ascribe to another)
Thus laying favorable foundations, upon which their launching forth would be smooth sailing
Here are much needed encouragement
Persistently persist in your beliefs,
For in them you shall be celebrated
Give no cognisance whatsoever to people around, Who continually discourage you for they are spectators who must cheer for you when you make it
Love yourself much,
For you will certainly not feel the love around your environs
Love God best,
For only He can give you the strength to achieve all your heart desires.
#BASHORUN
Even when the world glitch,
All that remain constant is change.
Move from your comfort zone, and begin to stretch,
For your youth is coming of age.
Depend not on ascribe,
Read books, strive to achieve.
For your old age will not survive,
If your youth is passive.
Move off from your comfort zone,
Now that you are a youth,
For when you start ache in both flesh and bone,
Life will then be as youthfully cute.
The dance reduce,
The work increase,
At old age for the joy not to be induce,
Because mind and soul, with not your youth at peace.
By Will Mountain you can move,
If you work for your old age to be relieve,
Nurture your youth, help it to improve.
For your old age will not survive by fanatic believe.
Youth is active,
Old age is crude
As youth you need to be creative,
And stop being rude.
From Proconsul to sapiens,
Life respond to it dynamic plea,
For dynamism is man,
Work your body for the fat to kill.
Now as youth, now as youth,
The world's power is in those hands.
Raise up your head and tight up your boot!
And come out with the world ever best plan.