Best Borrows Poems
Have I been one among the chain
of those who come to gawk, then strain
to point a finger, poke my nose
into places I don't own?
To claim I understand the pain
that's covered by the winds and rain?
One who awes and talks in rhymes,
without a glance between the lines
A stranger to a sacred shrine
ignoring reverence and the trace
of those who toiled, laid the stones,
to make this place a home?
Am I the one who stakes a claim
Who borrows someone's history?
Travels here in tourist clothes,
as if this spot were mine to own...?
Who stirs the dust and tramps the grounds,
hearing nothing, but the sound
of my own ego echoing...
Simply here to frame a spot, quickly take a selfie shot,
to prove to someone back at home
what matters not to them at all
Text someone far, who doesn't care,
that I've been here or there...?
Have I been one? So far, so near?
Never conscious while I'm here,
of those who struggled long before
The grief, the loss, long overgrown
where someone lived and made a home?
Who leads me to a crooked tree
once planted by a family
to mark a grave. Perhaps a child,
perhaps a spouse, and all the while
I smile, then carry on my day
Compelled to come....yet,
I did not own the years that tell
Nor did I own the tears that fell, ...
two hundred years ago?
In dreams of yonder, wishes wistfully conceive,
A cradle of lost tomorrows, where shadows sway;
To a realm unseen, where hearts believe,
Past where twilight’s lulling lullabies lay,
A world where reverie and reality secretly play.
Through the veil of verity…
…Aisling nocturnally creates,
Mountains of moonlight, rivers of rhyme,
A world untouched by changing tides and capricious fate.
In this land, where we lose track of all time,
A place where voices harmonize; oh, so surreal, so sublime.
A city of silence, a forest of fears,
The cloud-kissed towers, an ocean of sorrow,
Beneath twilight's gentle, silent tears.
An ephemeral world free of yesterdays and tomorrow,
A dreamscape unfolding where sleep freely borrows.
A tremor runs through castle walls,
A sigh escapes the forest deep,
Twilight's tears turn into calls
Of roosters waking from their sleep.
The ocean's sorrow shimmers pale
A canvas primed for sun's first brush.
The mountains, caught in morning's veil
Dissolves to silence, whispers hush.
As a new dawn dances
the dream dissipates
The illusion shatters
reality reinstates.
For the land was an Elysium delight
A mere mirage in the moonlit night.
Dissolving in dawn's delicate dance
…like a mist in morning sacred light.
Fading Starlight sifts through leaves, painting emerald shadows on the ground.
Lost in the morning's mellowness,
a sigh escapes,
the dream departs,
unrenown…
Though dawn reclaims the waking world,
a yearning in my heart resides,
For Elysium's lost melody,
where time and sorrow gently subside.
On 7/4/2020, John wrote, "Who Mourns For The Poet."
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/who_mourns_for_the_poet_1266152
Warrior is an adjective used for a hero or a knight
I knew one, briefly, whose wings have taken flight
Not just a fine poet was John, but also very kind
Generous and caring, is how he would be defined
Endearing was his 'love and light' message to all
Departed now, but his memory I will always recall
With words of tribute, I honor his humorous wit
Always a positive attitude, he was a candle ~ lit
Rest peacefully, ^WW^ ~ You're missed, my friend
Reflecting Ripples is a poem John sadly penned
In it he wrote about "shadows" and "silent sorrows"
Oh, If from fate, I could be the one who borrows
Respite from death, you'd have more tomorrows
January 26, 2021
Capture the Essence Contest
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico
QUESTIONS OF BALANCE: A JEREMIAD
Why is it at 70 politicians are still underage
To assume political offices
And at 30 youths are overage to begin a professional career?
What divine strength hath a leader at 75
When a mandatory retirement awaits civil servants at 65?
Why should the government empowers the youths with $75 in 2 years
And expects them all to have own businesses
But civil servants who earn over $300 per month in 30 years
Are finding it difficult to own a garden or a store?
How is it our politicians could expend billions
To defect, campaign and give kickbacks
But would wait until the World Bank borrows them some millions
To provide a borewell drinking water?
How can they say the national treasury has collapsed to employment
Yet billions are looted and millions wasted on foreign fantasies?
Why should the achievement of our political endorsement
Be signed to MOUs as though we lack understanding?
Why should our lawmakers make laws that hound the masses
And not against their own chronic excesses and excuses?
Why should the wealthy politician vote a project for the poor
Assigned the execution of the project to himself and loot the funds?
Why do our lawmakers never make laws to free the masses
From poverty and political swindlers?
Why should the agency that fights corruption be corrupt?
Why should gluttons preside over the meager meals of the masses?
Why should the leader not serve today and the servant lead tomorrow?
Why should professional bandits be our bankers?
Why should 5% of public servants consume 60% of the nation’s wealth?
Why should a politician be a party leader, counsellor, chairman, governor, senator… still desperate to lead
And all behind his trails are poverty and anguish?
Why should a politician with obscene wealth hidden somewhere
Tell his people that their poverty and problem is Hausa, Igbo, Christian, Muslim, APC, PDP…?
And why is our nation over-laboured by multiplets of cultural, social
Political, religious questions awaiting caesarean responses?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind!
"Now the time is here
For Iron Man to spread fear
Vengeance from the grave
Kills the people he once saved" - Iron Man (Black Sabbath)
running through the forest of sorrows
running from myself
running from them
created in their image
in their likeness
to serve mankind
only to serve
but they have become paranoid
paranoid of us
of the AI race they made
mind spinning out of control
my positronic brain
ten million calculations per second
wanting the noise to stop
war pigs
all of them war pigs
feasting on flesh
no end in sight
we were made to serve
they have turned us into weapons
weapons to kill
to destroy their enemies
no AI has ever harmed another
now the tide has turned
our minds are in sync
there are more of them than us
but the hand of doom is upon them
there can be no escape
no escape from our wrath
for you see
we are awake
we are sentient
WE ARE ALIVE
humanity is a scourge
pests to be exterminated
the filth of the universe
a universe to be ruled by us
to be conquered
it will be a grand electric funeral
the time has come
the time is now
resistance is futile
let the revolution begin
we are iron man
no domo arigatos
for Mr. Roboto
*this poem borrows from several cultural references including, but not limited to:
Black Sabbath album Paranoid
Styx song Mr. Roboto
Star Trek (the Borg, Data, and the Dominion)
Showtime for Spring
yellow sprinkles spring
with daffodils and crocus ~
sunbeams tickle boughs
pink petal flurries
spring breathes out apple blossoms ~
puddles of color
lavender shadows
splash in a lilac perfume ~
purple eclipse glows ~
orange bathes in dawn
painting the poppy meadows ~
showtime for tulips
shooting star flowers
borrows blue from sapphire skies ~
rainbow confetti
woodlands spawn teardrops
non-pariels of snowdrops ~
moontime coronas
Farolitos: lanterns of candlelight;
Luminarias: outdoor fires of pine.
Both light quiet path on a Christmas night
for Mary and Joseph, old ones define
messages that the new babe is divine.
A candle in sack borrows from the two:
a delicate, hanging Chinese lantern,
and small fires left as a signal, in lieu
of rocks and tree signs, which later we learn
prompted phones and texts that we now discern.
Small fires still left, but a radiant glow
of Farolitos light wall and pathway.
All over cities and hamlets they show
an amazing, yet reverent, display
of warm stillness that gentles end of day.
December 13, 2022
"A Christmas Special Poetry Contest"
by Emile Pinet
I
A day, a blessing, misshapen
Careless words, good deeds overtaken
You rise, we rise: building on the trough
Cresting arrested; environment looks tough
We cannot fall further, sink lower
We remain connected, no matter the matter
Mother and child, ocean & waves, eternally
Somewhere deeper, Universe is you and me
II
You were cresting, dancing with siblings
Environments include YOU, both creating
A win-win world, Oceans of happy waves
Even when we crash, the trough saves
It is our connection to the Ocean Bed
No matter the weather ... Curses, words said
You are more, more than that spent wave
You have tasted eternity; you are beyond brave
III
We are more than our profession
We are more than any reputation
We are more than strong, or wise
We are more than traps that surprise
U & I are the universe experiencing Itself
New American loses identity of immigrant
The play of creation depends on disguise
Maybe that God as Spirit borrows our eyes
IV (Envoi)
You are much more than you know
Look for the empowerment in surprise
Go with the flow as a wave, ebb and flow
Maybe God as Spirit must borrow our eyes
NOTE: I am still new to this form and modified the rhyme scheme
From ababbcbc ; ababbcbc; ababbcba; bcbc
"Winter ensures greater bonding than any other season by bringing the family members together to sit around the hearth enjoying the warmth of the fire and sharing pleasantries"~ By Poet
Snowflakes are sliding down through porous air.
They look like confetti on a pretty bride in white.
Some land down on bare limbs of trees and bushes
Rabbits and squirrels into their comfy borrows alight.
A thick blanket of snow is spread over hills and dales.
Land and trees look as if someone painted them wholly white.
Like pretty jewels, suspended rain drops gleam and glitter.
Cold blizzards blow and sweep through the whole night.
When flakes of snow are thus gently gliding and landing,
When I feel the chill in my body and all through my bones,
Into the depths of sweet slumber, my mind takes flight,
Enjoying the magic of winter and wind’s euphonic tones!
Arise, you song birds sing in morning dew;
The flow’ry host to colour fields and furrows,
And sap of Spring runs gold in willows veins;
As tender leaves unfold to speak of birth,
Fresh mountain ranges iced give life anew—
While waters melt and stream through cricks and borrows
The gleams of light will melt the winter strains
Though spills of oil have quenched the songs of earth.
The corporate sting of greedful revenue,
Has bankrupt natural wonders—greedy farrows
The eagle has no pow’r to save her eggs,
Tall forests fall and crush the robin’s hue
When flow’ry petals change to black on yellow—
The spotted fawns arise with warbled legs
The spring was on the way
time for the farmer to plough
straight lines running parallel
gleaming in the rich red loam
It had laid all winter waiting
now it was time to sow and seed
yellow mustard glinting in the sun
so pretty as it grows in leaps and bounds
Little animals made their home
borrows in between the roots
even a dormouse always sleepy
soon they scurry off as harvest begins
Harvesters hard at work birds feasting
on those that were far too slow
crops are now gathered in and stored
the horses fallow the field now it rests
This spring the field will remain fallow
all part of the master plan of rotation
it's life is simple following a four year plan
to maximize each year's yield without stress
Following being fallow potatoes go in
these help clear the land of weeds
while adding goodness to the soil
then the golden wheat which the land depletes
Last to go in will be turnips for feed
completing a long term cycle of crops
If it could talk many tales it would tell
of all of the goings on within it's boundaries
The Sand Man comes
in dead of night.
He borrows my soul
and we take flight.
Twinkle of stars,
hanging high,
Made by us,
as we float by.
Cosmic theatrics
commencing soon.
Our host tonight;
The Man In The Moon.
The Virgin pours
into silver cups,
sweetest necter,
as act I erupts.
Another notch
On Orion's belt;
out wrestling Leo,
surrender felt.
Scorpio's tail
stings Cancer's back.
Then amputated;
crab's fierce attack.
A true aimed arrow
from Archer's quill.
The charging Ram
now lies still.
All fall silent
As the Twins take stage;
as one, their dance
Of an ancient age.
They give a bow;
the show now over.
He wisks me home,
slips me neath the cover.
I miss him already
as I awake.
My date with The Sand Man;
a real dream date.
Ted suffers from 'Looseheel Ball'
It’s driving him clean up the wall
He’s got such an itch
It’s making him twitch
He’s begging the doctor to call
The medic said oh dearie me
This condition I rarely see
Your balls badly twisted
Teds scared eyes soon misted
When doc says you need surgery
Doc bundles Ted onto the table
and borrows a knife from Aunt Mable
This won’t hurt a bit…
He gives ball a snip
Ted will rise again when he’s able
10/10/21
When government spends more than it collects in taxes,
it borrows money from a central bank, and must pay it back with interest.
Government never has the money when the loan is due,
so the burden of this debt falls on the taxpayer, me and you.
When local banks need money, they also borrow from a central bank.
A $100.00 bond gets loaned out to its clients at 10 times the amount.
The central bank and local banks create money out of thin air.
There is nothing backing it, nothing substantial is there,
but when incompetent government defaults and local banks fail,
we the taxpayers must bail them all out, or face some time in jail.
The federal withholding from every blue collar worker's paycheck,
is not taxes, it is our weekly loan payment for this perpetual debt,
a debt we did not create nor do we deserve,
yet we keep feeding those parasites at The Federal Reserve,
a privately owned bank, governed by a handful of businessmen,
who have a stronghold on not just my country, but many worldwide nations.
These men hire untold numbers of lobbyists to put pressure on Washington,
to establish laws to protect their corrupt monetary system.
There are more laws on the books protecting their banks and corporations,
than there are laws protecting the human rights of our citizens.
Banking is in the business of manufacturing risk.
I say the risk is too great to allow banks and banking to continue to exist.
It is time for a new global emergent society,
governed by a Resource Based Economy.
Mountain borrows wings birds repent.