Best Bear In Mind Poems
Sometimes, in uncertain outcomes, as life agitates,
It can sway either way, maneuvering on the edge,
For a difference rather modest, makes the final call,
When a narrow margin determines a win or a loss.
If a win we choose to celebrate, or defeat we deride,
Prudent to bear in mind, that it wasn’t a landslide;
When results are so close, why not cheer them all,
Cognizant to recognize~ distinction is awfully small.
Slender is the layer between eve’s dusk and twilight,
Between dark of dawn, and luminance of sunrise;
Between safe and danger, there lies a narrow divide,
Where, between cliff and fall, life’s border resides.
Mementos of love embraced, and love sadly repelled,
In albums of beloved, or memories forlorn dwell,
Clamoring from corridors of good or bad choices made,
Between narrow margins of hope, and contours of fate.
O, a narrow margin can be of mighty consequence
Inhabiting elation of success, or anguish of regrets,
When death lingers in the clutches of final moments
Stilled between breath inhaled, and breath exhaled.
Quote:
"Xenodochial (pronounced zeena-doh-key-ul) means to be hospitable. Making others feel at home is truly an art. When you can make your friends, family, and even strangers feel as if they truly belong, you are making the world a better place". By Poet
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In a rather distant and uncaring world
There is a virtue that is widely unknown
Friendly, xenodochial, and blithesome Words
A non-parochial warmth is widely shown
Strive to treat strangers with dignity and kindness
And to bless your soul, grant no eyes to blindness
You may glimpse angels—in this river of dryness
No impediments ought to obscure the light
Treasure is always found at unexpected sites
Always be suitable for fresh starts and height
Welcoming pathway lights are faint yet pearled
Bear in mind we harvest whatever we have sown
Don't scold or exhibit just a shred of unkindness
A star shining on you will be soft, mild, and bright
Little Beast
you are a storm;
you were made to be chaotic and awe-inspiring. To scream your emotions in wild wind, to rally against injustice in your path, turning away with scorn from those who bind their hearts with lies in a gentle wind. Who grind their teeth to hide the storm behind their eyes,
But bear in mind,
my little beast,
that though they may leave you behind, you will never be confined or resigned to a fate that is defined,
by how well you can contain the tempest of unrest inside your heart. And promise me this,
little beast,
that you will never smother your beautiful storm, and transform into a life form of quiet neutrality, to hide behind a mask of normality to smother the brutality of your fierce mentality, because you
are a storm, little beast.
And you were made to be heard.
This potpourri is a redolent of our sweet memories
When you and I happily shared our love under those deciduous trees
Those fragrant petals and autumn leaves were gathered for you to keep
Bear in mind that my love for you will never fade; but, it’ll run so deep.
You will always be in my thoughts while I’m away
When I’m in the battlefield, you’ll always be in my heart to stay
You’ll be the source of my valor, strength and hope to be alive
You’re the only reason why I always dream to survive.
I’ll always remember those blissful moments when I’m with you
You always prepare my breakfast - one of the sweetest things you do
In our dining room, before you serve the meal for me
Center table is adorned with our sweet potpourri.
Oh, how lovely to see you one morning upon waking up
Your beauty I adore is celebrated outside in musical chirrups
In your beige hat, nice dress in billowing skirt with petticoat you wear
With your sister, those sweet potpourri – you lovingly share
Dining room was entirely filled with a morning grace
When sunshine peeps through the window pane, I see a glow on your face
An enlightenment I feel, for I know your melancholy soon to vanish
When the curtains wave, I’m here my love -- don’t feel any anguish.
The picture of you, I paint it enormously in my mind and heart
When the sky dims, it will be my only hope to look at
As every bit of tiny leaves and petals dispel their fragrance into the air
Inhale and feel deep in your heart my everlasting love and care.
June 9, 2013 5. 10pm
Note:
This is a poem dedicated to George Dunlop Leslie. He is really one of the great painters. I admire him and I’m so impressed with his awesome paintings. I thank our dear friend, Isaiah for sharing him with us /me and his works. He truly inspired me to write this poem especially by one of his paintings, Potpourri. I imagined myself as the lady on his painting. i: )))))
First Place
Contest: Any Poem Goes
Judged: 6/19/13
Sponsor: Poet Skat
Second Place
Contest: George Dunlop Leslie (Choose a title from one of his paintings)
Judged: 6/17/13
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Get a job! (Soapbox Poetry)
Reaching your hand in another man’s pocket
Taking your fill, still you’re screaming for more
Limits are reached due to faults in the system
What do our children have waiting in store?
~~~
Why should I work when you owe me a living?
I cast my vote so you’ll pay in my name
Making excuses, yes that’s what I’m good at
It’s never me, someone else is to blame
Can’t take that job, for it’s too far beneath me
Flipping those burgers will send me to drink
I’ll sit at home watching reruns of Dallas
Lost in the sofa and close to the brink
She lives next door and she’s up every morning
Riding the bus so she can get ahead
Feeding her children and wants no assistance
It’s so much easier staying in bed
He walks to work, seven miles down the highway
That is so dumb and why can’t he see
Just a short stroll down the way to the mailbox
All that you need will be given for free
Look at the news, the work force is tanking
Why even try when they hand me the cash
Maybe some food and a six-pack of Miller
Leaving enough for my getting high stash
~~~
It is so sad the state of our nation
Laziness now is a medal to wear
Please bear in mind this is just my opinion
Just a few thoughts that I wanted to share
Ok, I know I will get some flack for this and yes, many, many do need assistance because of health problems, disabilities, etc. I have no problem with that, but just as many take advantage of the system, making it tough for those who truly need it. I work hard for a living and I know there are jobs out there if people want to do them. Maybe they aren’t glamorous or what some saw themselves doing, but they are out there.
The poem that I write,
Is the one that I fantasize of writing
The one that my muse, celestial being
Made of mysterious essence,
Regards as the celebration of my fall,
Here, in a world devoid of meaning!
This poem recounts of how
The shadows of my life
Get dissipated
As love resolves its senseless issues,
And kisses its broods
With the lips of my passionate tugs!
This poem recounts of how
The climb back to the heavens
Will be smooth,
Laden with light hearts,
Laughing souls,
And fragranced with flowers,
All having true and pure love,
Engraved on their petals!
This poem recounts of how
The life that I lived here
Turned out to be magical
Having, as guide, the angels,
Who kept whispering to my ears
That I am to keep on believing in faith,
That I am to bear in mind,
That the cause of life
Remains the ascent into the spiritual realm!
This poem recounts of how
The bits and the pieces of my toils here
Had their own purposes,
And how,
They helped me build myself up
Into what I ended up being,
A Goddess, fallen, for the sake of love,
But saved, by the comforting arms
Of that same love!
Pray, this poem is a celebration love
Though it be written today,
Someday,
I shall read it to Love,
And tell him,
I kept my hope high,
I kept treading in marshy lands,
I kept swimming with sharks
And I kept having dinner with vipers,
Knowing that somehow,
Someday,
Your grey veil of negativity
Would be lifted
And you would pull me
Into the garden of eternity
As it was deemed
By the Gods themselves!
3 September 2019
The sound of wedding bells, I hear
My daughter’s maiden flight, so near
Festive celebrations, in full gear
And nuptial gaiety, so much in the air
This letter I write to my daughter dear
To consider seriously and not to sneer
She is entering a turning point in life
Getting ready to be a young man’s wife
* * * *
“Oh, Love! Under our sheltering wings
Guarded you were, from tumultuous swings
Now that you are going away
To live under another man’s sway,
Bear in mind this counsel thrown
By a mother who through age has wiser grown
That’ll make your life blissful as you wish
And keep it aglow without blemish
Make a home of the house you go
Give love to all in weal and woe
On your face, a pleasing smile you wear
Cover in cheer, your furrowed brow of care
Give the man all that you can share
And show him that you really do care
Condone him, though frailties abound
And correct him in private, not raising sound
As years glide and glamour fades
As grimy truths emerge from shades
Life may not appear all that fair
As once it seemed to the soulful pair
Yet, believe, your life is clad in glory
Dispel all nagging thoughts that leave you sorry
Know, the stumbling blocks that seem so gory
Will finally lead to brighter paths of glory
Conquer hearts through your innate charisma
Never surrender to anyone but to your anima
Feel proud that you are a woman.
Gifted perhaps more than men with acumen
Do not ever demean yourself or forget your identity
Even in trying situations, never lose your serenity
Hold your head up and never look timid.
And venture into a life with dreams vivid!”
When older people need to climb
On buses or stairs, thick the crowd--
I offer my arms, a gift of time
Rendering help which makes me proud:
Through earnest acts…each day complete
As their fumbling words lilt , ‘hello,’
While our eyes thankful warmly meet
Into near nightfall’s afterglow.
The elders I fondly admire
Summoning a charity taught,
By grandparents who never tire
Imparting favor that’s not bought.
Perhaps I always bear in mind
To be more gracious than unkind.
Brian Strand's Mid December Contest
my keyboard sometimes sticks and snarls up my story
went to the store and got jiffy lube and what a glory
my fingers slide across the letters typing faster
did a quick hit of the duster called air blaster.
the light on the screen will often blink
I plugged in my generator into the back link
now the screen has 300 watt illumination
and the audio sound has quality combination.
feels like I am sitting in the theater now
there is a lot of keys I haven’t learn what or how
there is a tool box but not like mine in the garage
a menu that has no food listed is a sabotage.
Excel is just another brick in the wall
which has nothing to help me at all
the command prompt has deaf ears
doesn’t follow thru and no changing gears.
Monopoly is easier to learn than a computer
I started too late, I must have a tutor
I’m still trying to figure out about windows
often my sites disappear and fall like dominoes.
I got a security package to protect my skill
but viruses still enter and that’s no thrill
they try to scam me and pretend they’re real
offering me a vacation that is a bogus deal.
they want my personal information to cheat on me
enabling them to use my credit account with forgery
one nice feature about my computer is I can delete
either a message I don’t want or the whole fleet.
So please bear in mind that if you write
I may answer if I can get things just right
this is a keyboard and screen that sits on my lap
but my cat loves to come up and nap.
Often the words have too much space in between
she smacks her tail all over the screen,
I sent the computer back with a note in tack
this is useless with a lap cat
Look, Spoken & Served
I myself with Oneness, sorting through this mess and disaster,
With truthfulness, bringing faster, craftier, eternal factors,
Smells like hell departing with ignorant laughter,
Through the storms of days after,
Into the good news, from the one who knew darkness to outlast ya,
With a staunch persona, don’t compare,
To any man’s power, its conscious power shared,
The brains awake, causing good and evil to circulate,
Like internal relations, neglect their sight in this earthquake,
Swords of wisdom to the hater, in another verse,
Seeking wise knowledge through this hell for what it’s worth,
Look, spoken and served,
Clutch another word fighter putting steps to the word,
These are the seeds, Skater styled proverbs,
The unrighteous pay a ransom to get what they deserve,
Bang on about a lord, confined to a cell,
Subatomic waves sell by wearing a pleasant array real well,
The exterior can be the teacher, but distortion can spray,
Like featured deep riddles badly retreat and reach ya,
Indestructible feature, I’m the narrator you select,
In company with the Upper Deck, I don’t neglect or disrespect,
The heavens and earth combined, the ultimate divine line,
The one percenters, promotions of evil grandeur in the airtime,
Bear in mind my rhymes, the tools of my trade,
Aid my veins, insane in this game I came, this is a raid,
Played out conscious praise in the day, when dues will all be paid.
Quincy Mac
date written: 4.12.2015
In this day and age that most of the things
tend to cause many of us to be haughty and callous.
That we cannot seem to bear with those things
because we simply do not like them.
This includes other people as well.
An innate in most human beings - to like and dislike.
We do not seem to like certain people because of
their dress, looks, sex, color, nationality, language,
conduct, size, skills or talents.
There is nothing much that we can do about,
other than to learn to live with it and them.
That is tolerance all about.
One thing we find hard to bear is criticism or correction.
Bear in mind that they are meant for our own good.
It's up to us to learn early in life to be lenient;
to bear with oppositions and corrections.
As the saying goes “There are no two people exactly alike
and both of them are glad about it”. The same holds true with
“when the going gets tough, the tough get going”, so let's not
fight opposition and use it to our advantage, instead.
Lastly, most of the things we cannot change are outside us.
We can only change what is inside us. That says a lot about
the good rules of life in the "Serenity Prayer".
04/20/16
An entry for
"Lyrics.Cliche.Image" contest
2nd placer
I have my life to lead
My own precious life
If it’s my life,
Then you should know
Am the owner
The morning breakfast
The midday lunch
The night dinner
Concerns nobody
Co’s I am the owner
The owner of my life
Is really me,
Understand and bear in mind
My destiny, my life
Am the owner.
(for M.T.)
Some days you wake up
You look in the mirror
You’re afraid of the fire
Afraid of the furor
Your heart skips gaily
Over each error
Like the bumps that curb your speed
You’re waiting for Friday
Waiting for June
That plan ‘round the corner
That golden moon
Cracks in the leather and grease on your spoon –
You’re the last of a dying breed
I used to know what
To say to my friends
Dusting off jokes
Or making amends
What do we care
which language offends?
The garden should welcome its weeds
But they’re retiring jerseys
And burning books
TV won’t age you
If you hold on to your looks
You’re a man called Horse
Swinging from their hooks
Yes, the last of a dying breed
Isn’t it strange?
We were here just a short while ago
The petals of sweet innocence
Immune to the wind
Isn’t it strange?
You forget everything that you know
And the altar of experience
Demands a list of your sins
Time’s a tilted table
Time’s a thrown fight
Time would have you go gentle
Off into the night
But time don’t bear in mind
Your deep appetite
And the force on which you feed
In the Army of Stagnancy,
It’s “don’t ask, don’t tell”
Just think of those ladies
at the poisoned well
And greet the humid weather
And bid fond farewell
To the last of a dying breed.
Sports Day at the primary school
The kids were 7 and 9
They’d been at the school for 4 or 5 years
It seemed such a very short time.
For dads there was the Blue Ribbon event
I always gave it a bash;
The ritual humiliation of
The 70m Dash.
Now bear in mind that some of these dads
Were barely in their 20s
While Muggins here had carried his bat
And made my first half century.
I’d first run this sprint 5 years before-
I thought I’d give it a blast;
I ran like the wind from gun to tape
And made a respectable last.
Similar results in subsequent years
Elicited standing ovations
The crowd recognised that despite getting old
There’d been no deterioration.
Year 3 I ran like a galloping mare
The fruits of my training I reckon
And earned for my efforts a personal best
With a time of 31 seconds.
(For training I ran a marathon
I didn’t finish last in it, neither!
I nearly caught that pantomime horse
But outclassed the deep sea diver).
But then I devised a masterplan
To help me succeed in the task
And at 50m I stopped for a tea
Out of my vacuum flask.
I’ve got you puzzled by this strategy
How can I be so content?
Of course I came last in the Dad’s Open Dash
But first in the next event.
Genealogy
—The beginning of a family tree—
For my great, great grandfather was a son of a slave,
he also was the slave,
and he grew up with a sad and appalling bedtime story
under the dim candlelight flickering in mother’s deep and painful sigh.
Since there was no book to turn over the leaves
no colorful pictures to see or fine letters to read.
The story was from the lips of dear mother,
who worn out from a long and hard day’s labor at fields,
and it was the most touching story he ever heard.
He, therefore, with his poor mother’s image
by his bed side though grievous,
carried this sad and heart-rending story
as an unforgettable boyhood day’s memory in his heart.
The story was, then, handed down generation to generation
and it was the story of Uncle Tom,1
one of most beautiful human beings,
agonizing under the heartless master’s lash,
gasping his last in the bosom of
a gentle-hearted young Mas’r from Kentucky
where the Tom-less Tom’s cabin on the sunny side hill still stands.
Nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they knew
to survive though not as human beings but as a simple living thing,
nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they have to bear in mind
in order to eke out an existence
though not as a dignified being but as an insignificant thing.
They struggled for their lives throughout their never-ending
tiring days, throughout their dark and restless nights.
Although my great, great, great grandfather’s father was
a proud warrior of a tribe
which dominated the wilds in the coast of the Black Continent
where the glow of a setting sun kisses yonder horizon to redden
the ripples, to call the stars and moon from the other side of sky
for the undisturbed and peaceful rest at night.
However, when the evil-spirited wicked ones
whose domain encompasses to and over the seven seas
invaded this peaceful land, though he was a courageous warrior,
whose strength was greater than the king of the beasts
he was trapped and lost his mighty strength.
Able to run faster than the cheetah in the wild
he was shackled and lost his swift legs.
The wings, which enabled him to soar higher
than the eagle were broken to pieces as he was captured.
1Cf: Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom’s Cabin