Best Circumscribe Poems
Midfall and nearly all the trees
Stand brown as broken sticks
Against a sky impossibly blue,
I in shirtsleeves a walking go
With love and longings as my companions
Kicking through the drifts of colored shards
Fallen with another Summer's stealthy fading
Feeling, marveling at this piece of heat
That dropped unnoticed from Her pocket.
I could believe today
In America untamed,
A place full of wild things and untamed peoples
A place where Spirit spreads
To ride the clouds
To sing its songs unhindered.
Nature has let down her locks today;
Who will look on her
To let themselves be consumed, entranced
By the beauty that lives on in spite of all our assaults -
Who will be distracted by the miracles we move through,
Feel the surge of the sea of life all around us,
Hear the whispered prayers
In the windsigh of the sleeping trees
Watch the sacred night come on
Announced by the rose glow behind the thumbnail moon -
Who will stand amid such things,
Yet not put aside for the moment
Those little cares we circumscribe our lives with,
To stand amazed to be here breathing,
Alive to feel how loving-close
Infinity holds us, claims us for its own;
Surely, not I alone.
I rest a hand on my sleeping child's chest;
Feel the heart fluttering beneath the skin;
I can sense a great wheel turning.
I wander out in the still warm darkness
That follows this day,
To look up at the starstrewn sky
See that great wheel begin its turning,
Stand amazed to be here breathing.
Stand, amazed to be.
If these racists be so plentiful
As them in power would believe.
There should be at least one found
Lurking... about my property.
How to catch this dreaded beastie
Was overarching on my mind?
So I laid waste my poor computer
To just see what I might find.
They are devoid of any substance
With a certain weakness 'bout the chin.
But the optimal way to spot a racist...
Is the color of its skin.
They are privy to beer and peanuts
With America's flag a source of pride.
But before they'd drive a Prius...
There's no law they wouldn't defy.
I take not a racist's capture lightly
Should one I chance to meet.
They are easily lured with a few simple words
And a flaming cut of beef.
With a healthy dose of patriotic fever...
I set out to numb this vile threat.
I grab my Mickey Mantle baseball bat
And my favorite fishing net.
I hide behind a Mulberry bush
To circumscribe this would-be menace.
Then give a loud shout... to them here about
"Three cheers for white supremacists!"
To my chagrin and stunned bewilderment...
There was no racist to be caught.
But a hundred media reporters
Suddenly swarmed my hiding spot.
They had no interest in abject poverty
Or an educational system past review.
But the chance to photograph a racist...
Well... that would front the evening news.
They waited through the morning
To appease their 'youtube' fans.
But with no racist's skin to log and capture...
They left to twist another plan.
I wandered home empty-handed
Stopping at a mirror aside the stairs.
With my apologies to them in power...
I still saw no racist there.
The End
*Fow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
Can a man – all alone - foist a god upon his fellows
Even if it’s only himself
And they his subjects
G.. is Akbar!
Does the muezzin from the minaret of Qoutoub-Minar
look up or
down to the illiterate savant emperor
whose newly-ordered cosmos
much as Tamerlane and Genghis Khan's blood
mixed gods
invented the Gysin-Burroughs cut-up and fold-in method
a cornucopian chimera
shi'ite-sunnite-kharidjites
hindu/buddhist-jain
confucian-taoist/zoroastrian
orthodox-christian/judaic
saivite-vaisnavite
mahayanist-theravadite
shintoist-zen-chan
agnostic-atheist
A…. is Great!
In the begining there was no VERB for him
In the end
from
"brahmana" Himalayas to the "asurya" Deccan
from
Ghazna and Kabul to the spent chugged mouth of the Ganges
where bloomed the Allah-Upanishad
One common language
One uncommon religion
One classless society
One mutually nourishing art
One scientific quest
and the sweet music of friendly disputation
within then the world’s vastest book and art collection
though knowingly
took to wife an Hindu princess
chose his prime counsellor from among the Brahmin élite
where within hearing distance lithesome nymphs bathed in scented milk
his victoriously wearied warrior limbs back from punitive expeditions
through Panipat Delhi Agra Punjab Gwalior Ajmer
Gujarat Bengal Sind Orissa Baluchistan Ahmadnagar Kashmir
Khandesh
to circumscribe the sub-continent
a Ceasar at the court of Fatehpur-Sikri
Akbar is ___!
Who would parse and complete or conclude the syllogism
For « One » who dared abolish the jiziyah
Note: Jalal ud-Din Muhammad Akbar (1542-1605), the third Mughal Emperor, edicted that muezzins should herald the rising of the sun by the call: Allah-u-Akbar!
The « jiziyah » , a word of Arabic origin, meaning a tax levied on non-Muslims who wished to conserve their own property, and imposed by the Moghul sovereigns – on and off - in India, was abolished by Akbar in his seventh year of accession to the throne.
©: T. Wignesan, March 13, 1992 (from the sequence/collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
Easter morning
Nineteen fifties
Black and white
Edged in gray
Pyramid like
Stepping stones
Determined by age and height
Reminiscent of the glories of Cleopatra
Stand silhouetted within
Easter’s sunny orbit
The Ideal family with fixed smiles
Returns the viewers’ gaze
Light enters
The shutter clicks
Kidnapping the treasured moment
Mom and dad
Bookend eldest daughter
Twin-like reflections of
Younger brothers stand at mid-point
Youngest daughter becomes
The monument’s foundation
Picture perfect in Easter finery
Chapeaus are draped in crushed netting
Brimming with bright flowers and multi-colored berries
Suit coats hold crisp white shirts and striped ties
Tiny purses dangle from wrists
Fixed Colgate-like smiles
Return the viewer’s gaze
Commemorating, witnessing, rejoicing
What is for who will come
Shoulder to shoulder they stand
Planets spiraling bumping, clashing
Yet staying in orbit
Generations may wonder
At the story being told
Does the little girl rue standing alone?
Or is it her statement?
Why not the oldest?
Leaving the parents together?
Must the brothers move glued as one through eternity?
Will each find a place in the firmament?
Will eternity claim the parents first?
Will a younger moon precede?
Frear not
As Gods’s heavens circumscribe
The position of the moon and stars.
Creation’s order begets love and benevolence
Tradition is reward and
Source material
For nature’s anomalies
Every Easter it was our family tradition to take a picture of the six of us before church. It was often taken on the steps of our family home.
Have you being in any relationship
At the beginning of every relationship, our lovers goes like
Baby, I love you
Boo, you are a blessing
Bae, you are my greatest assert
Boo, never will I leave you
I know people even hear more than this from their partners
And that’s mostly at the beginning of every relationship
But if people are to use the incipient stages of their relationship as benchmarks
Then I can boldly say, no relationship will last
Because the first day, month and year in our relationships are best experience we always have
And they are the moments when there is so much love and care
That our lovers would fight and kill for us if anyone dares
That was the moment that our partners were angles sent from God
Soon, we will easily do forget about the sweet relationship we begin
The one that they themselves considered unbreakable
As we saw our love incomparable
But never was it our fault
Except for the ecstasy that made us lost
The ends of these stories are hard to tell
And now be only compared to that of hell
And when they become incompatible
They forget they were once inseparable
But jittery do I feel day in and day out
To see a great fountain cease to function
And a respected monument burnt to ash
With no single artifact left for remembrance
In our visions we see
But we ignores because it wasn’t part our mission
To see our strongest citadel becomes weak
And even that of our voice become meek
The lit of our fire signaled fruition
But the current flames at the end symbolizes futility
Making the longest journey so far become fruitless
Difficult will it always be for we to say Ciao
Because our motives were greater than that
And never did we thought for this unexpected jilt
As we thought our candles that lighten the world will never melt
Our enemies will triumph and rejoice
As long as things continue to devastate
And when nothing seems to circumscribe the situation
Their mood become blissful
For we will be left with nothing but to say goodbye
Yes goodbye
The lights of the city reflecting from the aqueous pitch, pavements in a kaleidoscope of colours create a melancholy ambience for the few who venture within. The city is transformed as the animated bustle of people, seemingly with purpose, abandon the streets to their suburban abodes, leaving a nugatory melting pot of the "Ill at ease" to pursue or solicit rudimentary shelter to respite their weary frames.
The man is homeless.......
To the city streets he is confined, incarcerated by their invisible partition that circumscribe his ability to breach the tenticaled alleys and lanes. For buzzing in his mind, "I'm not aloud" echoes through his sub conscience cerebrations. Involuntarily his legs move his ageless body, one foot in front of the other in timeless motion like a driverless carriage aimlessly meandering through the city thoroughfares.
He sits to repose on a lichen encrusted slab that has entreated a myriad of his ilk for generations past and assuredly for many more to traverse. For the briefest moment the fog that clouds his mind is pushed aside by a gentle puff of memory as he is transported to a place where children's laughter fills the room and a woman sitting at a dining table, her auburn hair comfortably resting on her slender shoulders as she gazes admiringly at... Then thunderclouds rush over him like a tidal wave to the sound of, "Move you filthy wino", he scurries off as the fog settles back into its occupation.
Lost within the multitude of human quiddity, like the leaves of a plane tree aquiescing to the winds dominating gusts. He is swept along the tide of life, existing but never living, obedient to every buckle and wrench, never adapting to the changing seasons, accepting feeling of cold and heat with equal passiveness. The drum of life ever beating, yet his march is incessantly out of step.
by Michaelw1two
The bard, the muse, the low versifier,
each the times bemoan;
stressed by compassion's grasp,
ingrained word sown life disowns;
individualist rare, previews minds mood,
frigid wills he does discern;
insurrection, a thought held vast,
implied truth's, tout one’s dishonor.
Prerogative, free your chained mind,
release past stain despotic;
concomitant imbroglio once bound,
faces now this world chaotic;
temporal truth outweighs want,
life’s bliss questions idea quixotic;
perceptivity palpable eoan,
entwined societal gist, riddle semiotic.
Incessant proves life’s filature,
its touch, binds each into account;
emblements, an inedible gruel,
thought as fruit, abstruse keynote;
historicity, prime number obscured,
self’s augmentative connote;
coincibency jesting theft,
petitio principia, intones snidely cantor.
Initiates, anew in words from blood,
long of mindfulness and mores;
misconstrue one’s meanderings,
as logical crazes, fecundity ignores;
interpretation, ideas coalesce,
worked verse provides the Id amore’;
contradictions, fuel creative trysts,
twisted thoughts, this art restores.
Orient then one’s psyche appetent,
as present wanes benignly;
dupery thrives, flexile ideas hide,
within abderian punning finery;
circumscribe in self perspicacity,
release your jocularity divinely;
sagaciousness poetic ruse,
a mendicants muse, his true babblery.
Jan 2010
The circles of the bloody moon,
slide Northward towards the Rive Nile,
Death and raven drift above,
As mother guards her nest with pride.
The nightingales are singing near,
The nightly winds leave the door ajar,
The big bellied old man, unfamiliar,
Shows fatigue on his face, so clear.
The sheer brilliance of Mother's many vibrant colors,
fills my heart with such unwavering joy,
As she pulls and folds the table cloth,
She sings with the bloody wood, such joy.
The silent man, like a mocha brown ape,
sprawls at the window sill and gapes,
Mother brings in the mango slices,
Bananas, oranges and the summer grapes.
The silent vertebrate in brown,
smiles the frowns then concentrates then withdraws,
then the silent bellied man in brown,
tears at the fruits with his murderous paws.
And still Mother's lovely grin,
circumscribe her dazzling white denticle,
as this man tears into these mango slices,
she looks at him in adulation, such a spectacle!
My God, if I could but express
my trembling gratitude of heart
that You do love me as I am
and grace to me You do impart,
I loud would lift my voice in praise
to let my tributes rise to Thee,
who out of longing placed in me
the seed of immortality.
Your definition long I sought
within the scope of human thought;
but, though I stretched my finite mind,
Your majesty could not be caught.
The words deserving of Your might
elude my lips and leave me mute;
I do not know You well enough
to catalogue Your attributes.
You are too wonderfully real,
too vast for intellect to grasp;
I cannot fathom our Your depths
nor circumscribe You in my clasp;
yet, Your compassions poured on me
demand a sacrifice of praise:
accept the singing of a heart
that longs for You through all its days.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
He's aware
of the yard he lives in --
aware of the fences
that define
his constant existence
He feels his life
is missing
from the world
outside those fences --
He's very afraid
of what lies beyond them, feels
very safe,
having such a perimeter
contain his life --
and yet,
just
yet,
when roaring lightning
cracks storms into his skies,
all he can think of, all
he's impelled towards,
from the very deep in-side-
out of his soul
is to panic & bolt,
cause himself even bodily harm
just to
find a way
out, find a way
to dig free, to
leave those fences behind --
to run amuck, un-
entrapped, seeking
freedom from fear
in the very places
that he sees as offering
no safety, no
familiarity
Then, when he calms
down,
when he's done
with his run,
the sole object burning
in his primitive mind
is to seek again
the warmth and comfort
of familiarity and safety,
and he
returns to his yard,
settles back down within his fences,
and pretends to himself
that he'll never --
No, he'll never
do that scary thing
ever again and then,
as if to prove it to himself,
to convince himself he
really means it this time
he enters into the house
yarded by those fences
and goes to sleep, goes
unconscious,
and dreams of freedom
inside the walls
of the house inside the yard,
in the center
of the fences
that circumscribe his world
Circumscribe FALL winds
No soaring up to heaven
Not a chance at all
it is imperative that we do not circumscribe to being thorny
Veritably all will acceed to rising in the morning.
Though melodramatic we must abnegate and repress that static. All the pervading overcast of complicity we must abtly resolve. Hear many cry God Save the King, iconoclastic remain and God save us all.
it is our allegiance to the world we interlope, enfranchised from the phlegm that strangles hope. How heavy are these portent gestures we bare? Our struggles will engender many to care. Those who resonate vying as something glorious, do sway from that which is tantamount and decorous.
Acknowledge this morphology to unfold, brighten the efficacy from cold. Leave these words engraved posthumously in your mist and quail not though our time desists.
He was cursed outside the camp
and he is Gods flaming Lamp
his tears not have been forgotten
he is the only Son begotten
His thoughts are always prayer
that mankind learn to care
and in his Word we live
when we ourselves forgive
On a donkey did he ride
with the high priests did collide
Son of David appointed King
through whom Gods salvation bring
Voice he lifted in God's praise
to the God of ancient days
his linage is completely filled
with those whom law might have killed
Upon your laws did he meditate
and he for us does mediate
Sacred is the Holy One
that bonds of sin may be undone
The only man born pure of heart
for love of humans did heaven depart
Sacrificed life as Gods Firstborn Son
then born into a human one
Life sacrificed not one but two
to rejoin heaven and earth anew
to circumscribe universal law
for a higher purpose he foresaw
The Law is a teacher for our instruction
but cannot change unlawful destruction
with spirit of Love does Jesus empower
far above precept of law to tower
With perfect Love he chose disgrace
that those who sin might know Love's face
to heal our hearts and know God's mind
by chains of slavery be not defined
Unworthy we are that for us he died
and the effects upon all when Satan lied
purchased from law to give us freedom
and live in Love within his kingdom
sources 1John 2:2, 3:4, 4:10 Gal.3:13
Duet.21:22-23 Pr. 8:22-36 John 1:14-15
Heb.7:19 James 1:25 Col.1:14 3:13
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
DARK THOUGHTS OF TREES
The trees that circumscribe the cricket field
[Stumps drawn ‘til equinox returns the sun]
Neath grey October sky a mood revealed
Their pensive mien betrays dark thought as one:-
“Our limbs close link in woodland brother form
These limbs once built your homes and ships of fame
And fine oak caskets whereby you’ll be borne
When you no more wield willow in your game”
“And when the field’s no longer mowed and even
When you have lost the power to play, and deign
To pass the carefree summer hour believing
That it shall be forever your domain”
“We’ll spread our seed, in time see restoration
Of ancient forest wild, a sylvan nation”
internal inferno
my pupils circumscribe
fonts of futility
while opportunity leaks
between my fingers
weak, bent
crippled for the moment
by cruel serendipity
it is said
“better off dead”
but the dead unheard
leave unfinished soliloquies
between dates
etched in stone
filled with momentary eternities
while i limp along
past the parade of their
final serenity
the crescendo
of wind
stirring up memories
fueling this
internal inferno
and another step
towards possibility