Best Availed Poems
He went the way of a sickly pigeon,
and dropped his nasty load on religion.
The evil ones hailed him,
power they availed him,
which increased his vanity a smidgeon .
He declared himself the messiah,
From the depths of earthen hell fire,
The people believed him,
almighty pride seized him,
now he’s forcing God to retire.
You see there’s only room for one master,
to be God is what evil is after,
As enticing as it looks,
he and his cronies and crooks,
are setting the world up for disaster.
We Christians who always vote by rote,
keeping the Truths of our faith in a tote,
it’s we that keep evil in power,
We’ll know that in our last hour,
Right after we get thrown from the Boat.
Author's note:
I read that in the last presidential election, 57% of Christians
voted for the present administration which is currently in the midst of
of taking away their rights to conciencious objectionality and religious freedom
where the killing of babies ("abortion" for those of you who are still in la la land)
and the financial obligation for it is concerned.
It is now desired by the present administration that Christians too pay for this
murderous and horrific agenda.
To the 57% of Christians who voted for the current administration: you got your choice.
Are congratulations in order?
-Robert A. Dufresne
Sandstone erode into dust harks history's fade
Effected by events, weathered
Crept century torture administers eventual taint
Withered time drives incessant
Battered slate roof removed promotes damage
Cold rain and blazing sun hurt
Cyprus seeds challenge infertile dust, establish
Passage through gathered dirt
Co dependent pieces redefine a weary structure
Fed full on counterpart stength
Capability maps character, freshened functions
Exchange worshipped sentiment
Protected rod trunk tree intersects better entity
Deep dug roots, a chasm shielding
Tumult inevitably threatens to reinstate tentative
Pledge prevails, reliance appealing
Dedicated to tasks, support and every day bolster
Ruin renewed by flaura's courage
Offers availed are automated, mutual responders
Hold each firm in order to flourish
23rd November
THE BLUE PLANET
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
This beautiful blue planet that we call earth
No one really can confirm its origin or birth
Some declare it was shaped by a powerful being
Others state the result of a cosmic unveiling
It just seems to be a tiny body in limitless space
With the right conditions to beget the human race
Orbiting at the right distance from a giant star
Allowing flora and fauna to propel exemplar
Giant creatures once roamed the face of the earth
But a cataclysmic event caused their dearth
Doom for the giants was a boon for the small
Leaving crevices and oceans learning to crawl
And so after millions of years we arrive at now
We’ve nearly conquered the why and almost how
Yet we still have questions that surely remain
Is there a will to cease our destructive reign
The Danube was once blue now a brownish pink
The elusive snow leopard is nearly extinct
Most lakes, rivers and even the smallest rill
Are polluted with toxins and chemical spill
Fish caught in streams and canals are taboo
Not to be eaten too much mercury in them for you
Drinking water once availed from natural sources
Are now mostly dependent on commercial choices
The rainforests of Micronesia and the amazon
Sadly, in a hundred years they will all be gone
These sources of oxygen and absorbers of co 2
So essential in sustaining the me and the you
The trends are apocalyptic needing repress
Difficult decisions and actions may render success
Problems are exacerbated by human concentrations
Rapidly expanding and demanding, teeming populations
As resources erode and demand constantly increases
Harbingers of the agonies awaiting the human species
The answers are clear but politically unheard
Populations need reductions, a thinning of the herd
From the depth of my heart
springs forth a fountain of gratitude
reaching out to your majestic seat
in my most humbled attitude
I'm thankful for the moments I grew dim sight
and you stepped in to give your light
the moments I was imprisoned by fright
and you gave me wings to take my flight
soaring even to greater heights
I'm grateful for those freezing cold nights
you availed me shelter and warmth
also for the days my ways weren't right
yet, you never rid me off your breath
I'm thankful that I could still smile
despite situations that made my senses go whirl
you ensured i didn't become an imbecile
even when my heart was immensely Vile
you didn't petition me in your case file
I'm grateful for those awkward times
when I didn't get all I thought I deserved
you knew better that they were sour limes
rather, you served me chilled sweet Oranges from your reserve
If words were to be green grasses
I'd have offered you a thick forest
If I were to be a World-class artist
I'd have painted you my GRATEFUL HEART
If I was created as an Angel
I'd have sang you an incessant THANK YOU
Since I'm but a Writer and presenter
I've scribbled you these lines
presenting it before the earth's multitude
in expression of my utmost gratitude
to your existing splendid magnitude
-Ngozi Omachi
King Arthur
Pendragon a boy of fifteen unknown
But of Merlin about the accord
Shrouding Arthur's rightful identity: King Uther's
Son. Upon King Uther's demise England
Needed a Sovereign...one prophesied in
Times of dragons...a great upholding
Savior. Albeit Nobles and Knights aspiring
Crown and Kingdom attempted conspicuous acquisitions
Failing in their efforts. So it was on
Christmas Eve that Arthur came about
Needing a sword. Espying the one
Stuck in stone availed the iron...
Beginning eternal legends of King Arthur...
©deborah burch
02.17.2013
It started out so peaceful
It was God's Sabbath's rest
No work to be done in it
Just to keep it Holy, blessed.
But someone picked forbidden fruit
And ate of it; a mortal sin
Much to their shame and all good things
The day was cursed and all therein.
Eternally to dwell in dark
Locked in time and out of reach
A hell from which none could escape
A abyss, no ladder's length could breach.
Light fled that frozen habitat
Where the hopeless dwell and chaos rule
Where the pitch of darkness grew so black
A pit no pendulum could move.
So time refused to hear their cry
For a new day to come and vanquish this
And many sought a way to die
Death turned it's back to their request.
Oh, who is able to please Great God
And pay the ransom it would cost
No one was found, not one availed
It seemed to all that all was lost.
Yet a sacrifice was offered up
So pleasing in it's selflessness
The cause of which was wonderful
And able, yes, to stand the test.
And God did quickened certain ones
On whom the wicked could do no work
It was a glorious trump of God
When Jesus Christ came down to earth.
Now we can walk a better path
And hope one day to gain all truth;
The paradise we lost back then
Retract the hell that sin let loose.
RETA PRUITT
August 21, 2016
Understandable... the sensible
(three ringed circuitous) logic
to trumpet necessity
each individual moost heed
bedecking, cloaking donning,
ludicrous interloper facial covering,
(I prefer sporting
latest custom made
invisible máscaras faciales),
when commingling amidst madding crowd,
nevertheless coronavirus (COVID-19)
makes laughingstock kickstarting
maniacal paranoid testing yapping
authoritarians blabber ceaselessly
bleak household pandemic
plagues (sear ring)
robust human specimen,
hence yours truly,
a feckless (gibbon) primate
breathes sigh of relief,
why? cuz he counts himself insignificant
absolute zero worth
versus microscopic prickly orb
aging long haired pencil neck geek
best beat hasty retreat
to his man cave
not necessarily avoiding microbial denizen,
yet any potential suffering
scouting out troubadour woefully
jackknifed inept hideaway
availed no choice
rolls out Harris tweed Scottish matt
courtesy minuscule germ man
greeting me with gotcha!,
I willingly surrender
the only thing at stake iz my life,
which would immediately
ebb fate (mine),
automatically buzzfeed chap
offer no chance
for symbiotic relationship
as pathogens indeed choreograph
(dirty deed done dirt cheap)
loft hilly doth waft
through cellular skeins comprising
garden variety/ generic gent
herewith essentially crafting
his poetic epitaph
before onset disables,
disallows, and disvalues
one humble, intelligent, jesting
kindhearted, literate, modest
nincompoop aimlessly adrift
within Brownian movement
(*****sapiens random motions
viewed miles skyhigh)
ostentatious, piteous, querulous,
ridiculous, superfluous, et cetera,
thus forward donations
and/or pledge
(I promise you -
swear to dog
portion of me ashes)
to favorite charity
and will hoop to visit thee as repurposed
noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun,
preposition, conjunction, interjection,
numeral, article, or determiner...
When up I was growing, awed and confused,
sure was not I of which road to choose.
For binary my soul and dellusioned my mind,
I dallied at crossroads and worried not time.
Advised by my parents, mentors and teachers,
and hell and damnation from gospelling preachers.
And I young of youth so impressionable dear,
grasped for their words but availed not my ear.
For swayed by the Devil, so I was told,
of treasures of pleasures of counterfit gold.
Timidly, more boldly, I sought new sensation,
of carnal reality I made preservation.
But conscience was bothered and remorsely did grow,
my feet they did ponder of which way to go.
Temptation too great for me to withstand,
I cried unto GOD to give me a hand.
But His Holy Doctrine is not found in haste,
but abnegate the world with a seedling of faith.
Of frustrating skeptisisim I became apostate
and inclined toward autism and apathetic fate.
Drifting and squinting thru lusts' glaring light,
a glutenous hedonist all day and all night.
Inside of me though I feared what I was doin',
would eventually bring shame sorrow and ruin.
My karma so silent then leaped with a bound,
austere retribution enveloped me round.
So drubbed for my folly and benighted transgression,
my soul it feels cauterized, I caterwaul with compunction.
Penalized and contrite, with diffident circumspect,
with empirical knoiwledge I never shall forget.
I love you he said as he lay supine abed.
Through veiled tears masked by a smile,
she glowed comely, masking fear and dread,
kissing weathered cheeks, gently,
her wares availed
and duly spread.
A gift of love to offer only one.
All pangs of fear now fled,
the child bride smiling all the while.
A woman now, resplendent dwells instead.
Taking charge of things anon,
she quickly whisks the room.
Baking yeast bread;
akimbo, she smiles….. “Clan Gunn” !
Back a couple of years ago,
My friend Rosie bought
her daughter, a
"Ready To Assemble"
six drawer white melamine chest
Now, of course, I was chosen
For it's assembly,
Even with fingers part frozen,
I sat on the floor,
Opened all the parts,
Oh, an easy enough chore!!
My reward a six pack of beer,
Which I kept very near,
Chuggin' as my work does progress,
I started creating one hell of a mess
Well, some three hours later,
My head now all a'buzz
I finished my appointed task,
Oh, how easy it really was!!!
Well I offficially presented
my treasured work,
Until we all did notice,
That I was quite a jerk...
The chest tilted at a 25% angle,
A couple of cracked knobs, did jangle,
The drawers all a'skew
Gaps on one side,
The other one far more true,
A host of superfluous bonus parts,
Left over when I was done,
Is there supposed to be 2 chests?
Or just that only one
It was neigh all but impossible
To use these useless drawers,
The whole thing teethering
And, just what was the cause?
Well, it wound up on the curb,
Merely new garbage and wasted time,
Yet no one availed themselves of it,
The waste was such a crime
So if you need a handyman,
A jack of all trades, than you,
Can call on dear old tom,
For but a six pack of brew.
The wooden cross was stained crimson red
As the Man of Sorrows screeched and bled,
The offender’s heart leaped with joy to know
That scarlet sin had turned whiter than snow.
He wondered what gift to offer such a one,-
The Victor who had the age-old battle won
And taken way the hopeless criminal’s fear
And brought the doubter’s salvation near.
How could he reward He who took his care
And removed death’s ever nagging scare?
How could he ever pay the Prince of Peace
Who had granted his life an eternal lease?
The guilt-laden outlaw given to the vilest vice
Knew that even silver and gold won’t suffice
To honor his selfless Savior’s lasting scar
That availed the sinner’s hope once far.
It is up to our hearts
to arrive at noble feelings
and walk with them
all the way up
to noble thoughts.
The fields are laden
with rips horrendously
unmended
Will it be availed
to mend them
without surrender?
Come brother and walk
with me when you can
into a better place
in which dreams
are supported
by realities
not baffled by them.
Come brother and talk
with me as much as
the truth can speak
against their wounds
and crimes.
Come brother and take
good care of your health
for the journey is long.
It is a journey of life
not that of those
who tell you not to go
and tell me not to come.
Come brother and don't
tell me about what ails you
for what ails you ails me too.
We will walk and work and talk
together, not apart, together.
Chokri Omri
To vt reloaded
You will have tons of platina..!!
Says thy glown up retina
Victory sign by fingers too
Adds additional glamour too
Cascadic traces of hair such
Only make you marvellous much
Are you an angel from afar
Or a fairy from system lunar
Curiosity reaches the climax
As you appear on screen max
An opportune moment for me to verse
As thy status updates traverse
Have a blast in a way grand
Along with thy spouse and band..!
Bon Voyage
World travel is a great offer
Only availed by folks philosopher
Standing for triumph and victory
Soon thou make history
Born in Waltair you have passion
Served in Bengaluru with devotion
Hyderabad being thy latest abode
Launched you to the places abroad
May you have all pleasures there
Besides spiritual leisures fair
Wishing thee my Lord Goddess
A bon voyage with joys ace
What a lucky moment for UAE..!
As Vizag Deity vising Dubai..!!
I’ve heard of its grandeur
Besides riches and splendour
May the city be thy next place
Of ruling like a royal ace..!
To tanisu
An MBA with stature tall
Blessed with two kids small
Being her forty second birthday
I greet her come what may
Name stands for being gracious
My sonnet I offer to the lady precious
May she scale all success heights
Enjoying all mirth and delights
Pride of my state and nation
Glorious woman with passion
Grace in her talk and walk
Soon on mission she’s to embark
Queen of her heavenly family
She is my Lord Goddess really..!!
To vt reloaded again
Ethnic grace and fair looks
Makes me verse many books
Belle so pin up and warm
Enormously full of charm
Today being her birthday
Has a blast in full sway
Indian deity oozes a lot
With her divine quotient much sought
Jewellery is of royal grandeur
Attire is super splendour
In blue drape steals the show
Even is bedazzled with her glow
Radiant grin brightens all
With her stature magnetic and tall..!!
breast cancer runs rampant within me late mother side
whar moost every female diagnosed with emotional ride
into the depths of despair where metastatic cells pried
their way into the appendages whar din o suckling provide
did initial sustenance prior to malignant growth lied
Innocuously within fleshy tissue til oncologist could not hide
Truth from females that birthed and availed motherly guide
among most ever Harris heiress, whence treatment fried
will power to live (I can only imagine) as rogue growth did elide
as nemesis to body politick where no boxes of tissues dried
the river of tears when such news shell shocked me – I cried
for indiscriminate injustice whence fate snatched me father’s bride
shunting any trivial tit for tat resentments re: grudges aside.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
no other priority but being alive matters when surgeon knife
for malignant curse forces impending mortals to value life
purposeless double mastectomy performed when invisible mass rife
with errant duty to destroy sense and sensibility commanding strife
whether circumstance involved me eldest sister (still alive) or the late wife.
me octogenarian widower father summoned breastworks when last breath
o me long deceased mother – vehemently opposed being sentenced to death
no matter visualization practiced – such as furiously swapping with broom
who truthfully cursed with ovarian cancer, which spelt her actual doom
an unstoppable toxic brew within her being that coursed as meandering flume
Time elapsed, yet still difficult to espy wedding pictures with handsome groom
that would be my 20 plus year old father unbeknownst ill fate would loom
occupying cellular wall street where awry growth jostled for room
a harbinger of lifelessness, whereby she chose creation versus burial in a tomb
many fifty odd decades after my youngest sister exited the womb!
by: matthew scott harris
Screams in vain, in the dead of night
Pigtail braids and gown of white
It mattered not, how loud she yelled
Snug as a bug, no cries availed
Mom had tucked her safe in bed
These terrors lived inside her head
The boogie man, alive and well
Inside her dreams, he would prevail
A coward preying on her mind
Not strong enough to get outside
They quickly dismissed, the little girl
Telling tales of a scary world
They only knew, of what they saw
A handsome man, dark and tall