Best Carrying Poems
CARRYING BURDENS
Some people carry their burdens
With sadness and utter despair,
You really don’t want to be near them
For they make you miserable there.
They think there is no other person
As burdened so heavy as they,
And so when you see they are coming,
You try to stay out of their way.
Then others are so heavy ladened
You wonder how they can be glad.
They never show it in their faces
That things have been making them sad.
I think that I know just the reason
Why people like that can behave:
They know that the Saviour is with them
For by His grace they have been saved.
They know that He truly has promised
He’s with them in all their distress,
And so they look past all the problems
And think of the way they are blessed.
May folks see that in YOU, my dear sister,
Though burdened by so much you are,
May your faith seem to glow with His presence
Just like light from a bright shiny star.
And like others I know who are suffering
And showing their faith strong and true,
May they that you know see God’s presence
And that He is so helping you.
I pray now as you think of that loved one
Who passed on to heaven’s fair shore
That while you may carry that burden,
Your faith will shine oh, so much more!
I need people like you here to show ME
That God can help in MY distress,
And through trials of life I encounter
I can look to Him, say, “I am blessed!”
--Dedicated to Linda Nichols
carrying chopped wood
to stack in our supply pile ...
my whole day splintered
As a boy
I explored shallow river beds.
I carried home in a jar unnamed water-bugs,
minnows, tadpoles and
little frogs that glowed yellow
when the sunlight swam in the creek.
Now the sun comes to my window,
sheds streams of light
to carry me back
to where shallow waters sing
of all unnamable things.
My washing will not dry laid on the hedge
But I stay here nurturing a grudge
I rarely feel one so I must retain
The nasty feeling and the horrid pain
Yet since it hurts me,I must be a fool
The errant friend will turn into a ghoul
I’ll hear her footsteps from my ancient bed
Till she enters carrying her head
Oh God lift up my ruminating curse
Let me have your grace or I’ll get worse
I do not wish to have a bitter heart
Grudges turn to dread; it’s hatred’s art
For if I learn destruction and its ways
Cruelty will have the final say
Strands of satiny pineapple fibers
From the superbly prickly pieces of leaves
Refined by the nifty naked hands
Of the great sophisticated artisans
Beyond this unequaled plant
Is a peculiar product exist
Only native Filipinos - Tagalogs can procreate
An art of aesthetic craftsmen
The fabric of my historical breed
Versatile apparel suits for formal affairs - weddings
From 20 meters of silk processed and produced - four months
Nation known as PEARL OF THE ORIENT
Exaltedly introduces this "BARONG TAGALOG"
Through cordial hardworks and artistic thinkings
A lifetime masterpiece dominates the Philippine Art
A cloth woven by faith and ornamented by passion
A cloth designed by heart and given birth through life
A cloth perfected by artistry and embroidered by fidelity
For native Batanguenos, this is their breath
Respiring together as they brocade their future
Future that depends on THE PHILIPPINE NATIONAL CLOTH - BARONG TAGALOG.
*BATANGUENOS - people of Batangas,Philippines
*BARONG TAGALOG - Philippine National Cloth
------------Jun-jun Villanueva
----ANYTHING HANDMADE CONTEST by nette onclaud
Carrying romance all the way
falling in love time and again,
a romantic heart you may say
dancing always in love rain!
Falling in love time and again
one way love let them be,
dancing always in love rain
hold no umbrella above me!
One way love let them be
only the rain should be pure,
hold no umbrella above me
she will come and dance sure!
only the rain should be pure
just to forget all the pain,
she will come and dance sure
join me in new love rain!
Just to forget all the pain
you can come and feel the bliss,
join me in new love rain
dancing with you is my wish!
You can come and feel the bliss
a romantic heart you may say,
dancing with you is my wish
carrying romance all the way!
10th May 2011
* A rhyming Pantoum
Regret,
all-consuming
memory of failure,
knife twisting in a broken heart.
Fading
softly to fragile acceptance,
glimmer of gentle hope.
Life was meant for
living.
Response to "Every day is a page to write a new story"
18.12.2016
O Dear Lord! I`m real bushed
to bear my shabby cross.
It is so hard an` I`m collapsed,
legs sinking under loss.
I close my eyes and have a scene:
a flock of men on a road.
By viewless power it is set,
in its strict limit hold.
And one by one they move along
the way in single file,
marking a day with a white stone,
bearing crosses the while.
As well I drag mine on the ground
with might and main forlorn.
To me their crosses are just found
not to be very long.
Being very tired, drop my log
and saw a little part,
for me to carry, furthermore,
for it just to be short.
I keep on going, soon I see
a point of destination.
There`s an abyss in front of me,
I cannot reach the nation.
Those people, without any buzz,
to join the parts together,
put heavy crosses over abyss,
of two evils the lesser.
I stand alone. It is my fault.
My easy cross fell down.
I cannot pass, alas,... that part...
a lump felt in my throat.
I open eyes and have a scene:
here lies my shabby cross.
By viewless power it is set,
I have to take it, Gosh!
(from a Christian parable)
My mind though blessed with wisdom
Carries with it grief of years gone by
Russell Sivey
And the healing has begun I'm Confessin'.
Thanks to you I'm back on top.
Beside you it's a brand new day.
A brown eyed girl on the bright side of the road.
Thanks to you I'm back on top.
I was comfortably numb cleaning windows.
A brown eyed girl on the bright side of the road,
down a cul de sac, carrying a torch of crazy love for you.
I was comfortably numb cleaning windows.
Down by the riverside, thinking everyone knew I was
down a cul de sac, carrying a torch of crazy love for you.
It had hit me like a full force gale.
Down by the riverside, thinking everyone knew I was
on your wavelength because you make me feel so free .
It had hit me like a full force gale.
You've got the power to make me real real gone.
On your wavelength because you make me feel so free.
Beside you it's a brand new day.
You've got the power to make me real real gone.
And the healing has begun I'm confessin'.
10/04/2018.
Who else but Van the Man for the Silent One.
CARRYING A TORCH
AND THE HEALING HAS BEGUN
CONFESSIN'
BACK ON TOP
BESIDE YOU
BRAND NEW DAY
BROWN EYED GIRL
BRIGHT SIDE OF THE ROAD
COMFORTABLY NUMB
CLEANING WINDOWS
CARRYING A TORCH
CRAZY LOVE
CUL de SAC
DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE
FULL FORCE GALE
WAVELENGTH
YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO FREE
YOU'VE GOT THE POWER
REAL REAL GONE
Rusty leaves dance in the wind, carrying whispers of time that flows ceaselessly,
And I, a traveler on life's road, feel how each autumn brings me closer to my last autumn,
Like a cosmic clock ticking gently in the background, reminding me that all beauty is fleeting.
My thoughts fly free like migratory birds, unbound from the cage of my mind,
Dreaming of steaming coffees sipped on foreign sidewalks, under October's leaden sky,
While my soul swims through memories and hopes, like a golden fish in a river of melancholy.
The bus roars on the highway, a mechanical monster carrying me home in this nostalgic month,
When everyone seems to be seeking their roots, drawn by the secret call of home,
Like leaves returning to the earth, in a final dance of heartbreaking beauty.
October is the month of returns, of reunions and partings alike,
When nature dons its multicolored coat for the last show before winter's sleep,
And we, actors in this ephemeral world, prepare to lower the curtain on yet another year of our lives.
On this journey home, each kilometer is a page from the book of my existence,
Written with the bittersweet ink of experience, on the fragile paper of fleeting moments,
And I, a poet of my own life, try to decipher the hidden meaning in each verse of destiny.
Full of sunlight
dipped out from a spring named hope by a mountain foot
in the jar that we bought after a long period of hesitation
at a time of making a new home
is slopping from side to side.
We roamed together in the wilderness
where so many springs came and went;
we stayed up many nights watching the flickering fireflies
in the many returning summers; we walked through numberless autumns
stepping on the heaps of fallen leaves; we wandered many winters aimlessly
in the snow covered fields;
while we went up and down
many rugged hills and rocky mountains
for more than five decades together,
and during those long and tiring years,
though the jar you are carrying bumped into not a few but many rocks and trees
by which the brim chipped off here and there and base gouged out all over,
you never think to change it for a new one.
After all,
you tripped on the stones
many times on the way of our journey,
you never spilled a drop of sun-ray
or, though sometimes it is bothersome,
you did not pour them on the ground.
However, look at me!
the knapsack I carry is beaten by
the untiring rains and winds
and torn to rags from ages of abuse,
and now, though I am an empty knapsack,
you did not abandon me but came with me,
sometimes you walked ahead and other times just following me.
I see sunlight you filled from the spring is overflowing
from that unseemly jar you are carrying;
in spring, buds and blooms of all sorts of flowers
in the field make me look back to verify your presence
and smile when I recognize you by me;
in summer, when we are lying on a tree trunk
under a shade for a moment of rest
a breath of air stops by us and tells a story
for the reason why we walk together;
in autumn, I learn the meaning of decay
through watching the leaves fall and roll
on the ground carried by a gust of wind,
nonetheless, you let me have a moment of appreciation,
you make my life worthwhile, with the flavor of fruit I bite.
Even if winter comes
unless you are not abandoning that jar,
as long as sunlight is overflowing from the jar,
though I am an empty knapsack,
I trust you that your thoughtful heart
will block the blowing wind,
your sagacity will turn snow into beautiful flowers.
I am a man, not a boy, carrying the weight of maturity like a chosen garment,
I am a man with dreams and lofty ambitions, weaving my path among the stars with threads of desire,
I am a man with a gentle heart, in a strong body, but with a soul as vast as the ocean,
I am a unique man, with a sense of humor sharp as a sword of light, cutting through sadness.
I am a caring man, with a heart full of love, embracing the world with warmth,
I am a special man, guided by strong principles and a spirit of distinct brilliance,
I am a man who can conquer the world, carrying an air of mystery and magic in my gaze,
I am a man, gentle and unwavering in my loyalty to convictions and truths.
I am a man with abilities, always ready to fulfill my responsibilities with honor,
I am a man with a grand vision for life, like an artist painting his own destiny,
I am a man who guards secrets with trust, like a guardian of soulful mysteries,
I am a man, a true man with an inner strength that shines like a beacon in the night.
And by accepting myself as I am, no one should say that I am not what I am,
For in the stream of my consciousness, I find my identity like an old and precious song,
A melody flowing through my veins, carrying the story of a man who lives and feels,
A man who dances through time and space, with light steps and an open heart towards life.
AT FIFTY-TWO CARRYING MILK TOOTH.
Oh Nigeria
I speck as a barren sister
Mirage that darkness glitters,
Oh Nigeria
Principals with voiceless whispers
Ministers of sugarless minerals,
God forgives with elementary prayers
Suffering is my leather as you never
Replied to my letters nor credentials.
Nourish your feathers
Oh Nigeria’s,
The sky is fallen ill and calls for
remembrance
You sit for so long folding our shrinking
Tongue
Revolution is a stanza on freedoms agenda.
Nigeria, a raped virgin
Am sorry heaven would soon disconnect my
Blessings
Why is my blood red?
To differentiate from hells ingredient
And to color sirens which would eventually
Block many ears.
I touched the tears of Soyinka’s hair
I hear the steps of Awolowo’s legs,
When this great heads die,
Who would sacrifices his solid chest
To breast feed our hopeless years.
Miracles is on the way,
Is all I always say
Here is a poetic blend
To provoke this stubborn men.
Nigeria is under my care
Join the campaign to lift and undress this
Tattered girl.
You are no scare crow
Revolt with a gallant tone
I have built a mansion called hope
I started with this tiny rope
Nigeria cant be cloned
Speck with your vote and lets sail on
This elegant boat,
To the destination that present growth.
No more armatures ruling in pretense
And claim his a dove.
Today I am fifty two,
Handling a walking stick and no ripe
Fruit.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
I'd never let you bear your cross
or feel the scourge of thorns,
I would not let you wear that crown
or feel your skin be torn
I kept from you, your rightful path
I stopped you from the fall,
I wouldn't let you down the road
which you were meant to crawl
I stole from you the gift of choice,
I seized from you the weight,
I soothed away your howling voice
but I realized too late.......