Best Atoning Poems
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes --
Freely to Roam! And what, the prescribed
destination or direction? Wherever the poet,
himself, deems worthy of fond or pertinent
affection –
Poetic Theme (extended metaphor)
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes –
Freely to Roam! And what the prescribed
destination or direction? Only those fond
and pertinent, giving affectionate-justification as
reason for procrastination – to linger in a moment's
subtle discovery – the courses followed only those
which the poet deems entrancingly divine – he seeks
heartfelt permanent encampment – or just an
amicable pause, in a neighboring field, fertile for
blooming enchantment; with his companion pen, to chronicle
canorous visuals, fervently inspired – or simply folksy,
lyrical rides; for the poet, alone, decides where his poetry lives
or temporarily abides –
(his muse, never far off – nearby, perhaps reflecting in the shade of a flowering
fruit tree: heaped in petals, not trying to hide – more enjoying the velvety feel of an
apple before the outer peel, though colorful, would be far too bitter for his present
aromatic meal) – muse and poet, composing through a single eye. Writing as one:
sharing new sights – sounds with scent – their mind dutifully toward poetry
bent – shades of detail, mellifluously transcending common scheme and rhyme –
incanting verse worthy of a brief performance, or immortal, blessed shrine –
It's all fair, such dulcet affair! All subjects! All seasons! – preferring spring, in which to self-lavish and spiritually entwine. Therefore, his paths are fanciful, never truthful as definitive
would define; often choosing glitter over harsh realty, yet can be a prophet and oracle if a troubling-time -- though never, a ruling class mime; – in this sense, he is a likable charlatan, a chimerical rebel...irreconcilable passion his soulful crime, therefore not ever exhibited, an atoning-word or act of sorrowful contrition – so loved by God, who gags at his counterpart, the lying politician.
satan
vicious, ruthless
plotting, scheming, destroying
enemy, sin, son, shepherd
sacrificing, atoning, purifying
righteous, holy
Christ
Written on 3/26/2015
We go about our lives as if with no clue
that all around us things on earth are dying
as other “great’ activities we pursue.
Good habits should mean more than simply trying.
For many crimes, mankind should be atoning.
Humankind, BE kind, or you will be crying!
Prick up your ears, and hear Earth’s gentle moaning.
Hear it in the oceans filled with our debris.
Where she chokes from all our filth, Earth is groaning.
Hear the silent shrieks emitting from each tree.
With forests razed – oxygen is depleting.
Extinction of creatues already we see.
This senselessness we cannot keep repeating,
or a deserved tragic end we’ll be meeting.
March 12, 2021
for D.W. Rodgers' While Mother Earth Gently Moans Poetry Contest
If I had over 10,000 dreams
You'd be the only thing my mind could see
Judgment couldn't be real
Succumbing to the fear of this cold life
Find a way to break through
The self-destruction of wordly delusions
Don't tell me I've lived so long in a lovely illusion
Break me down until we find a Nirvanic state
Then bring me a savior from transgressions
An atoning sacrifice
Send down to me a messenger for me to submit to
Bring me the truth to break through The delusion
Bring me the messenger to explain it all
And let me leave behind
Sorrow's caressing the earth
The caliphate stole my heart
Without a will to fight
But I have the Means to be free
I'll try to go with the word I believe
But so many stones to be thrown
Stakes to burn, limbs to break
Faces to hate, scorns to taste
Will I have the will to die
Despite all of the tears no one will cry
Sorrow's caressing the earth
The caliphate stole my heart
Broke my will
Safetefied my soul
Martyr for the Unorthodox word
Sorrow's caressing the earth
The caliphate stole my heart
Without a will to fight
But I have the Means to be free
I'll try to go with the word I believe
But so many stones to be thrown
Stakes to burn, limbs to break
Faces to hate, scorns to taste
Will I have the will to die
Despite all of the tears no one will cry
Sorrow's caressing the earth
The caliphate stole my heart
Broke my will
Safetefied my soul
Martyr for the Unorthodox word
It was July when I watched an elderly man
Lounging on the same bench to gather his thoughts,
As fingers picked worn-out notes…bowing low
Seemingly atoning for his charmed one’s teardrops, done:
In the fringe of nightfall, I began my warm approach
While this stranger rolled on, hoping dreaming
His wife were around… a tired soul in need of love.
Every time I asked why, the old man shrugged,
“ Because, because”--- his voice trailing off
While we counted young stars on flight above…
His face mildly glowed from the sheen
Of moonlight: from his pocket, another letter blew,
Signed by his dear Roselyn, with a litany of praise
For a woman who cherished all their moments
Through rain and silence: how the fondness
In his eyes brought me to embrace
My own tears after my Mama kissed the clouds,
Same month as this… unknowingly,
He buzzed a tune Roselyn and Mom adored,
As if fate allowed us to drench in floats of serendipity.
My Fondest Memory: Frank Herrera 12/14/2016
TWINFLAMES
Obsidian oscillated into lava
slid across syntactic streams
tumbled thick greenwood thickets
impenetrability an intricate illusion wicked
shattering splintered sassy sinkers
Lord Ashtar himself lifted gnarled garbage
two big broken black bags to Source
split seconds of screaming searing sores
then baby posture soaked singular satin
Prophet Daniel’s prison-free prediction
Coloured lava languid loosened
yin-yang of yesteryear’s yarrows
as Watchfulness wedded yearnings
no black bumblebees boomeranged bombs
rainbow hands belled belly beckoning
Solar flares ignited twin hearts atoning
corona emissions spilling splashing space
sodalite sprinkled sundrenched shores
kaleidoscope pupils pleasing pulsing fate
Hearts purely placed on golden plate
Four eyes fathomed Guy Fawkes fickle
feuding onto a fervid foolproof floor
Stonehenge now sturdily steadily stood
sedating simple silent sleep suavely
Axis acceded alchemical ascensions
Missions matched mottoed moulded mountains
timelines merged in mossy musical movement
Justice jumping jibbing Jungian jurisdiction
Presence posied a present perfection
Dreams delivered dictums to Duet
Delicious domed desserts diffusing !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2024
The sky, heavy-laden with curdled black clouds,
Burst wide open, and all night long it rained.
It pitter-pattered on the panes,
And rattling on the slanting roofs.
It churned the dry soil to a pulp,
Overflowed the dusty gutters.
It drove the people from the streets,
And moaned amongst the houses.
'Twas but a fluke, a summer storm
Lightning snaked the sky
Thunder rumbled and crashed
Instilling fear and panic in passers-by.
Soon it abated to a drizzle,
A thin mist shrouded the square.
And as the town clock struck the sixth hour
Ghostly figures ventured forth again.
Yet during all this precipitation
He trudged alone along the streets,
Rain dribbled through his matted hair
And wetted stubble on his dirty face.
It cleansed his external demeanour
From the grime of past lazy days,
It could do nothing to eradicate
The heaviness that filled his inner self.
The air was warm, and strange enough
He felt little discomfort from the rain.
The vault of heavy clouds ascended,
The breeze was gentle and fresh.
He went back to his favourite place,
The bakery shop has not yet opened,
From its cellars hot dry air
Surged up, surrounded by his whole being,
Warming him from the wet chill.
He soaked up the fragrant smell
And yearning for freshly baked bread,
A luxury he could ill afford.
And so he continued on his journey,
Alone, atoning for his past.
Hungry and desolate and chained,
Externally cleansed by the drenching rain
Until the day he'd die.
When we say, ‘I am’, our hand goes to the heart,
signalling it represents seat of our soul,
which drenched in God’s love deems no one as apart.
To open the heart is our very first goal,
without which in truth soul’s life quest cannot start
but the problem is, ego is in control
and so animal instincts as yet prevail,
with thoughts orbiting dark desires that assail.
The heart is all love and love employs no force,
so it’s only by free will that we can choose,
to make our touch gentle and change our life’s course,
heeding voice of conscience, repaying our dues,
atoning in silence and feeling remorse,
praying like a child till love begins to ooze.
Heart is the centre of our chakras seven;
God dwells deep within, so take it as heaven.
NEARING HOME
On this final day of two thousand eleven
What thoughts are on your mind
Are there any thoughts of heaven
And the joy you will find
Another year has come and gone
What difference did it make
It means that you are nearing home
What pathway did you take
Did you take the straight and narrow one
The one that few will find
Or the broad road to destruction
Will you be left behind
A new year now is dawning
A chance to start life anew
Christ has done the atoning
The rest is up to you
It matters not what you have done
Your sins can be forgiven
You'll walk with Christ while nearing home
To spend eternity in heaven
Curtis Moorman
31 December 2011
Inspired by Billy Graham's book by the same title
The long, motionless hours of night;
a nod, a blink or deep breath away from
a new day's noise and bustle.
Modern life, soon enough, will secure
its grip on each of us.
Many prefer the reticent solitude offered
in darkness. Never more than visitors there,
we still yearn for the placid serenity of the night.
The remnant of a night breathes evenly. Here,
there are moments when nature makes no commentary.
Man, animal, and machine all mute.
Those waking early hope to seize these
taciturn moments, holding them, savoring
their purity to soothe against the growling
noise and stress of daily life.
Cool, hushed wisps of air wash over these moments
and anyone still sleeping. Those already awake are
embraced in the tranquility. They can touch the
palpable stillness found in fleeting moments of time.
Some will feel nearly transcendent, while remaining
in the moment. Spirits immersed.
A reverie in synchronism.
In the brief interval which is a night, souls hang
suspended between the muted hour and the
commotion of a hectic life. Soon, the rising sun
will adjourn the laconic spirits of a night.
The taciturn and atoning moments recede,
but their commendation upon the soul remains.
Hearts momentarily warmed and comforted by
the perfect fabric of peace, new from nature's loom.
7-14-14
The hairbrush you held
With your delicate hand
Still holds your hair
As if you were still here
Your scent lingers on
Long after the love is gone
If this hair is dead
You’re alive in my head
My hair is unkempt
My beard is uncut
The lights have not been lit since
In darkness, atoning for my sins
The leaves remind of you in the pool
The waves remind me of your curls
Of your wet hair that so perfectly fell
In the heat of passion I loved to pull
So you think that you’re better?
My diction ain’t got no fetter
I can pull books from just one letter.
It’s a skill I’ve been honing
While you’ve been atoning
For rhymes inexcusable
Yeah I’m not defusable.
You think you’re so clever
But I’ll use you like a lever
All your weak lines I’ll sever.
Stack them up like a ladder
My victory spoken from your tongue
And every time you get madder
I’ll just climb another rung.
I see Him dying
for me, atoning for my sins;
I'm deeply thankful
Bleached bones of a fallen beast,
Casting a shadow that points
To the east,
A cowboy rides out
With a noose round his neck,
Travelling north on a
Perilous trek.
The noose is a reminder
That his life is not his,
Not that he needs it
To tell him the truth,
He's atoning for sins
Committed by him
And the noose is just there
For some proof.
His horse pointing northwards,
His spurs jab its flanks,
It jumps on a journey
It knows not to where,
He has been advised
If he gets where he must
That he must handle all things
With great care.
Long weeks follow days,
He ne'er stops for food,
He feels neither hunger,
Nor thirst or fatigue,
His Horse is the same,
Feeling neither hunger or pain,
Though they travel on league
After league.
He stops on the brow
Of a mountainous peak,
To gain the bearings
He felt he had lost.
His eyes sweep the plains
He travels in vain,
Without ever revealing
The cost.
His life had been shortened
For the most part by death,
He had suffered
For what he had done,
His actions alone
Had been the sole cause
Of the loss of his wife
And his son.
And so for his torment
He had been given a task,
That he knew he must
Always repeat,
There was no respite
And no task to be done
And his journey would be
Never complete.
And so he rides on
O'er the endless red plain,
Destined as ever to
Be all alone,
And maybe one day
His skull will be seen
By another as abandoned
Bleached bone....
Silent feelings, gone with the wind, gone from my grasp,
Silent feelings, invisible to others sight, beyond our understanding, because others don't take the time to truly look, seek, into my eyes of my soul, only one true Father will ever see, feel, hear, my true tears, smile, fears, weaknesses, strengths..
Silent feelings, here I sit alone at home, church, on a walk, watching the ducks, eagles, soaring free as a bird, no cares in the world, the wind steering their path, with GOD as their leader, ever so present, showing the the way, I often ask, who will guide me? I know, our Dear Heavenly Father, and his son Jesus Christ, who knew me before I knew myself, HE made me, He knew I was special, He held me in His hands, then he sent me to this earth, to live, learn, to take a fall, only to have Him help me back up, I am forever grateful, I owe my life, for Him atoning for MY sins, my wrongdoing, I ask Him how much He loves Me, He answered by spreading out his arms, no more secret are my feelings, I have woke up, I stand to face the world, see the sunshine, birds, the eagle has landed, they have come to greet me, Thank you Our Heavenly Father, I know your alive, I know my church is true, I have felt your love, the book of Mormon is my guide, and I say this in Jesus Name, AMEN..