Best Bearing Poems
Pretending to be the pure an innocent,
a viper the mask hides.
In the absence of those to defending themselves,
the more vigorously it swears.
Those that show too credulous favor to listen,
instead of being careful, to insist on sound validation.
No elixir or spell can cure,
only truly depends on first loving themselves.
7/19/2017
12 BROTHERS BEARING GIFTS
A Mother weeps, her child is born,
A Father poor sits all forlorn,
The wind howls through their shelter rough,
The wood for their fire is not enough.
And though no gifts can they bestow,
Of riches and of jewels that glow,
12 brothers bearing gifts of joy,
Arrive for the poverty stricken little boy.
The first comes, gliding down the panes,
So fresh, so quiet to fill the lanes,
The tiny babe’s cheeks are pink, and bright,
The air is cold, and all is so white.
The next seeps through the crack in the door,
And fills the hut in a might roar,
The little boy giggles, he thinks it’s fun,
His folks light the fire their day’s work done.
The third brings winds that cloud the sky,
And all around migrant birds begin to fly,
And the fourth heralds the April showers
Preparing for May and Spring-time flowers.
And with June days, the Summer starts,
Cold, rain and snow now all departs,
The sun is smiling, its rays spread about
Children playing happy to be out!
October brings Autumn, which in it’s height,
Is out in the country a magnificent sight,
The wool is woven, the crops are in store,
When will Winter, come knocking at the door?
The 10th makes the heavens open wide,
So all the animals scurry to hide,
Leaving behind a child full of thought,
That the richest of parents couldn’t have bought.
And the next leaves the trees looking so bare,
But the child doesn’t worry or give it a care,
For the woods look so pretty in their Winter glory,
And the wind whistles gently whispering its story.
And now that Christmas is almost due,
All poverty is forgotten, it’s the parents cue,
So out, come small savings in bright colored coffers,
To celebrate the goodwill that this brother offers.
THIS IS A RE-POST FROM 2018
A dawn arrives bearing message of heart
And pleads with the sun to disperse the fog
And engages the sky to paint its horizon
In orange and pink with shades of crimson
Not much time it has to say what it wants
Before it must leave and pass the baton,
Regret's written in the missive morn carries:
Patient he must be to realize his dream
Confused is he for the words don't match
The celebration he sees in beaming skyline
Evoked by the goodbye of parting aurora
Encoding her passions on rising golden arc
Meet him she will but not till the evening
Not till the sunset elaborates her theme
Painting on blue tapestry lavender imprints
As she readies to decode what romance is
June 7, 2019
HM: Strand choice R contest by Brian Strand
When we find love broken spinning out of control
Effecting our minds and taking its toll
It's a clear sign our tank is too full
Knowing yourself well enough to make it rule
To fix the problem because we have the only tool
This leaves no chance that later we will feel like a fool
Realizing that something is broken before it becomes cruel
When we share an amazing love with another
It can have a lasting effect on what we discover
When it involves your friend and lover
Take your time to work through it as you hover
Because true love never takes time to recover
It just exists in our lives day after day by sharing
When we show one another what we are like caring
It's important to always keep our focus bearing
When we are not in the right place swearing
Then it's impossible to look back to erase
The look on your partners face
When you no longer feel their loving embrace
Knowing how our feelings work inside
Can have a lasting effect on whom we confide
If we are not willing to address them they will collide
Causing our feelings and emotions to want to hide
Taking the powerful things about love's high
That gets us up each day wanting to kiss the sky
Knowing we have a love that floats like a butterfly
Not memories of one that makes you want to cry
As you find yourself looking back saying goodbye
To the love that once filled your eyes
Which way leads to the
land of green white
green?
Which way are we
heading?
A country the wicked
bears the rulership, and
the people sighing
continuously.
A terrible thing sprouts
beneath the sun: a
pregnant woman
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light
by snuffing air from the
goose that laid the
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing
the strong-a terrible
thing.
Like the overthrow of the
gods at Mt. Olympus by
the Titans.
A country where also
thieves appear as men of
integrity.
Land of green white
green,which way?
A land where the
enlightened ones are
overshadowed and
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that
eat the crumbs.
Which way to go you
Land?
Iliterates stand on
podium of power
bellowing orders as milk
of sorrow known as
dividends of democracy
is passed around.
The machine of progress
manned by the
unproductive.
"There is better
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white
green,my country
where rule of law walk
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced
to adversity,and there
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People
dancing on thorns
whimpering as they
throng
along.
I see a new sun rising
from the horizon,hope is
rekindled as its rays
grace on hopeless bodies.
Look!! there soon be
change!
Note:
This
is
poem
full
of
Nigeria
political
angst.
God calls His own people to live
a life that bears real good fruit
fruit that comes from true living tree
both connected at it's very root
We need to be rooted in Christ
living for Him surrendered to His will
filled with His spirit display His love
hoping expectantly for His coming still
But in this world of fallenness
we have a fight deep within
there our sinful nature fights us
striving to keep us down in sin
In all of this battle within our soul
God's promised in us to show His son
showing His loving compassion to fill
us fully so we be Christ like won
Take courage keep looking to Jesus
in Him you'll be a fruit bearing tree
overcome sin, Satan and all things
in Christ alone fruitful you'll be
(' You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will recognize them by their fruits'.)
Matthew ch. 7 vs. 16-20 (ESV)
still bearing scars
they proudly mark time
the vets parade
Long hopes for my bearers fruited comfort, of new soft sins quarreled.
‘Tis lost.
The tree grew,
no caretaker to guide it’s way to the sky.
It’s limbs sprawled and gnarled with contempt and confusion.
One yearns for you’re insight.
Though beyond, the tree will bore it’s supple fruit,
‘Tis fruit will not be lost.
Caretakers will guide their way.
My delightful darling, my senses magnified with your spirit nearby
And I feel your misty entrails and silky casing chilling my pours entirely shut
Your presence surrounds me much like the heavy air I breathe
Your anger and confusion I share and my delusion is apparent
I clinch my fist together tightly and strike the hardwood floor below
I scream your name for the blood you spilt, not by yourself
But by a man, a madman, insane, a blood thirsty animal
A psycho lope across an easy path to his dwelling of sickness
There are no factions of justice, no suspicions, not yet
For how long, I ask? Until the sickness is far too visible to flout
Pain will resurface through the eyes of the blade bearer
I pummel the oak yet again as my heart absorbs the agony
Self-inflicted though, I am the blade bearing lunatic who slayed my queen
My love, I beg of you to haunt me past consciousness so I may die
An agonizing death that I need to cure me from insanity
You watch me and I feel your eyes like stones striking my cold torso
The torture I deserve isn’t sturdy on the mind of me, a lunatic,
The blade bearing lunatic who slayed his one and only love.
who plucked my flower
stealing her innocent spring
bearing wind a seed
Every tree is known by its product
whether that brings either bad or good
God shows here what He's looking for
explaining clearly so as to be understood
For each tree shows what's within
the fruit that's rotten shows that
as it's not followed God's instruction
rejecting His gospel makes its wheel flat
Now the tree that listens well
to God's word so brings rich fruit
staying close to Jesus all the way
brings real juicy flavour at its root
So the lesson is clear without doubt
God's seed brings out such flavour
when you're feeding on God's word
knowing personally Jesus your saviour
Don't be like that rotten fruit
denying Jesus and being so dry
be sure to trust Him for everything
His promises bear fruit to always bring
(Matthew 12:33
"Either make the tree good and its fruit good; or make the tree bad and its fruit bad, for the tree is known by its fruit.")
I love certain
if I then to what extent
I see all have their own thoughts
realizations and actions
sometimes though there's no mention
I fall in to conflict and contradiction
What is good then
either adjusting with all
or carry on my own duties and responsibilities
disregarding their actions
Is it possible to do that
If I do then will it be justice to me and reasonable
I love certain
by expecting nothing
better to do good for all
keeping silence though inner burning at all
Bearing Fruits
…as my heart blossoms an efflorescence of your love
my eternity benevolently blooms and bears its fruits…
~28 Syllables~
June.02.2018
When one line is not enough
Sponsored by: Silent One
AFRICA'S SOOTHING BEARING
The manifest of my anger
Is like a spontaneous outburst
An insidious unravel of accumulated grief
Patience tempted
A marvel to my chagrin
An itinerant tenant to my body
A shadow of myself long nurtured
Now hatched
But your love is a panacea
Your face an insignia of solemn peace
that quenches the fiery beast of my fury
Your coiffure is a cynosure of your belonging
Your skin, oh what finesse
Such blackness, a bold imprint of radiant Africa
Oh, dear Ola
What nostalgia you bring me
With the stinging offer of your natural presence
The majesty of your gentle lithe
The fullness of your fleshy lips
An aura drenched in jungle's cologne
Those days the hunt was great
And dinner promising
Intercede dear messianic fellow
As an atonement for our docility
For seeing you does steady my angry nerves
Been Baring Grudge
There are those who have been baring a grudge,
And then at the same time many people judge;
Our patience trying,
And causing crying;
They won't give an inch or ever try to budge.
Jim Horn