Best Conclusions Poems
Jumping to Conclusions
(my reponse to the reporting of the latest Synagogue attack in Poway, CA)
By Franklin Price
4/28/2019
Jumping to conclusions
Is the mantra of the day
And hating one another
Is the dark that leads the way
Journalism takes advantage
Of the biases we feel
To control our ways of thinking
So we play the cards they deal
Religious or political
Nationality or creed
Sexuality or Racial
Are some biases they feed
Christians hate the Muslims
Muslims hate the Jews
The Parties hate each other
All of these are in the news
Depending who you listen to
As you follow all the news
I would bet they think as you do
And support your biased views
Things will not get better
'Til we open up our minds
And listen to the other side
With our heads from our behinds
Jumping to conclusions
Is not the way to go
The truth should be reported
Not the biases we know
(Argument for the Biblical Account of Creation.)
I don't see why some people try,
without reason, to reach a conclusion.
They must haveconceived an end to be achieved,
through pre-supposition already chosen.
They accentuate the positive, ignore the negative,
and, apparently, find comfort in illusion;
to prove a connection they've already reckoned
will fit their pre-supposed delusion.
Yet, steadfast is truth, we find from our youth,
in solving the age old mysteries;
by following the evidence through reasoned inquest
of science, and accurate histories.
True science has shown aging to be known
affected by the rays of the sun.
Bible history attests longevity was best
Before Noah's Ark made its run.
We see man's age decline right in line
with the canopy deluge postulation.
Now, we can't see how fitting this must be
from the onset of creation.
The Bible also lists, a pre-flood morning mist
rising to water the earth each day..
Would this not lead to the conclusion indeed
of a water vapor canopy in play?
Then, the canopy fell as rain, quite well,
all the habitable land to cover:
"the deep" broke up making the oceans a cup;
can we logically conclude any other?
Urchins of the sea have been found to be
upon the highest of mountains.
Wouldn't this tend to show proof of a flood flow,
and its ebb into the fountains?
Don't ever pre-suppose a rose, a rose,
if it looks some what a carnation.
If you do, I must firmly assure you,
You will earn reason's indignation.
Reason can surely be a help for you and me,
if not corrupted by pre-supposition.
Think it all through, ignoring the Bible won't do
You'll be found in an untenable condition.
Lionel
Why is that old man sitting there whittling,
Making nothing from a scrap piece of wood,
Must be brain numbing, truly belittling,
Should do something useful, I think he should,
Sitting on a barrel with knife and stick,
Can't make anything useful, wasting time,
Watching really getting on my wick,
Alright whittling a stick is not a crime,
He should be doing something with his life,
Perhaps he is right and I'm very wrong,
Maybe his way to relax, relieve strife,
My mind could be weak, his mind could be strong,
I jump to conclusions without thinking,
Should I just get a stick and start whittling.
No Conclusions, THE PROCESS OF PAINTING ***
Not often between lines.
Crossing lanes. Consuming spaces.
Ordering gray shadows
Like shaded fog or misty traces —
In a measure of displaced displays
Of reality’s clarity
In impressions or abstractions,
To emphasize the building theme — with
The colors smudged or stippled or stroked long
Outlying and blending — cautiously —
Of as if themselves in a trance,
Running away
Circling off the canvas;
A rhapsody of shapes forming,
To be perhaps perceived,
Playing hide and seek —
If viewed in a turning to upside-down,
Or then seen from a look far off
From another side, across the room,
As if from beside some seaside beach
Of the moveable imagination
Of possibilities, yet a stroke by stroke
Closer to the finished effect —
To be appraised and lauded, at that exhausted,
But nevertheless, rejoicing end illumining —
Witnessing, according to open examination
Of life scenes below, beyond, or high,
Blended in new colors
Often strangely named, to
Guess their nature by their new pseudonyms:
Like Earth’s Crust Brown or
Baby Fair Yellow Hair.
The painting
Now ‘till forever will be
Beheld hung up somewhere, (or
Kept back in the black of a closet’s corner floor)
Where it stays, not resting; not still!
But running
Through time’s approaches to
what whatever’s passing popular in art interpretation.
Painting after painting,
Whipped up in the winds
Of a viewers’ risen remembrancs—
Spirit to Sight
Picture to Touch
Art to Power
Spurring minds and moods into possibilities of
Re-seeing journeys
Into themselves through this painting
Always being as if magically moved
Through an instant
Lost, then
Re-addressed.
————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 9/27 - /21 rewritten d12/24\2022
Glory to God…
Says the English proverb:
"Look before you leap."
Uttered by Lords a'leaping,
Or maybe Little Bo Peep?
Ah, leaping is a hazard sport
oft performed for thrill.
Leaping is the easy part
It's the landing which can kill.
I leap and leap and leap again,
I do it without thought.
I often leap on limber words
Oh the troubled landings I have bought!
Sorry is a salve-like word,
needed now and then,
To mend those bruises, cuts and scrapes,
so one can leap again.
So if I've landed on your head,
Or maybe in your garden,
Please forgive this leaping lout,
As I humbly beg your pardon.
Wagging conclusions with a deck that is fixed;
The dealer’s eyes shaded hiding those tricks;
Refreshing a thirst from the tears that are cried
Have you jumped on a wagon without asking why?
Most reasons concluded by the click of a mouse.
Success often measured by the size of one’s house;
And always the zeros increasing accounts;
It’s never enough reads the printing in fonts.
And still I give thanks;
For the start of each day;
And I’ll always keep looking;
For life’s better ways
Haughty Tiger was blatantly vain
She presumed that poor Ass had no brain
Ass stayed cool when hunters came
And pretended to be lame
But Miss Knowall was bound to a chain.
- - - - - - - - -
All the figures and indices,
Just like algebra,
Solved with ease.
Like putting a capital,
At the start of each sentence.
It almost seems sagittal,
There is no repentance.
The square, and rectangle,
Have similarities,
Triangles in a mangle,
circles capabilities…
Acids and Alkalis,
Confused hypothesis.
All experiments,
Carefully analysed.
Just an apophasis.
Tap or street,
Graceful Ballet.
In time to the beat,
Routine is underway.
You step on a major,
Start your solo,
In direct danger,
Mute the audio.
Isn't life funny?
You spend hours and hours writing and revising
re-revising and rewriting
and then starting almost from scratch again
making sure each line sounds right
each and every word fits,
does what it's supposed to do,
and then of course making sure there's enough
imagery, symbolism, metaphor, and all that there gobbledy-gook
Finally (!) you post your poem
and then you have to edit it three or even four more times
anyway, because you saw something else that didn't quite
work right when you viewed it again...and again...and again...
On the proverbial other hand
You decide that you can't go to sleep without doing one more
so you dash something off in 7 minutes or less
you don't even check it for typos, errors, or omissions
and you figure, "What the H," at least I published another
one before I hit the hay...btw, you sleep like a rock that night...
The next morn you wake up with the nagging feeling that your magnum opus
is mediocre poetry at best, humdrum stuff:
Hmmmmmm
As for your 7-minute rush job -- Ehhhh, Phoooey! Fugettaboutit!
You regret posting it, and vow never to act so rashly again
At work though you reverse course and suddenly can't wait to see how many comments your masterpiece got..
So, after work when you get a chance to check
you find no comments on your you-know-what
and a dozen or so on your hack job.
Since space can expand
faster than light’s speed,
galaxies beyond
must be infinite. . .
I am overwhelmed.
We and Big Bang
are just small beans
in the whole scheme
of everything!
Alpha and
Omega. . .
what are they?
No one
but God. . .
knows.
For Rick Parise's Contest:
The Universe
My friend
Sent me a message
And asked me
To take a look at it!
I tore open
The envelope,
Emptied the content,
Spread it on my table
Then, I called my friend
And, yelled at him
‘That Was a blank paper
You sent me…”
If only I had turned
The page over,
I would have seen
What he told me…
That the message
Was on the other side!
Our life
Is full of such hasty conclusions!
No Conclusions***
Can’t figure things out?
Never between
the lines.
Outside the lanes,
Staying spaced
In gray shadows
Or mist or fog…
Outlying and altering.
Possibly close,or
Beyond
Leaving,
Below or high.
Yet, wearing
pseudonyms,
Always being
Lost, then
Re-addressed.
Oscillating.
But, remaining
Persistently
ambiguous.
Ticking, dangling.
Indefinitely
“Durra lurra loo,
Durra lurra lay,”
Tick-tocking clock
Infinitely
Short morns.
Dragging afternoons.
Cycles of blue moons.
Possibly some
Random hours
to play. Hooray!
And sing,
“Tick tick toe too,
Geerie oh toe loo.”
A clock eternally
Maybe
Runs…
————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 9/27/21
Glory to God
Thoughts, worry, jealousy… It's all an illusion,
A tendency to get angry and jumped to conclusions.
There is no secrecy with the few I love and me,
If any it's what you may hide, why can't you see?
You walk around so quiet and reserved,
What's going through your mind? Are you afraid that one of us will get hurt?
Why do you act like I'm the one to blame?
It's not like I was out and sneaking around, I'm done playing this childish game.
I make breakfast almost every day,
I help you clean when people are away.
I do everything I can and participate,
I try and try and try to pull my own weight.
I don't understand why you let these seeds grow up,
That other people planted when they were mad and drunk.
You've come home more than once smelling of booze,
When you didn't say a word, till I brought it up to you.
Thoughts, worry, jealousy… It's all an illusion,
A tendency to get angry and jump to conclusions.
There is no secrecy with the few I love and me,
If any it's what you may hide, why can't you see?
Keep inventing, strive for more
Create past the point of boredom, it's all from the core
The great wall, a human invention, can be seen from space
An ancient civilization made that impact, why stop striving for the stars if that's the case?
A message to the mad, a message to the sane
We must work together to continue, that much is plain
Wonder why? Wonder Why not?
Stay in that place, stay there to rot
Indecision claims too many lives
Indecision nullifies what it means to be alive
Think about how to grow
Think about the right way to go
Act upon it before it becomes surreal
Trust your heart, truly listen to how you feel
Vows that were meant till our dieing days.suffer in the outcome of your deceitful ways.the depth of gut wrenching instinct a bond that's shattered never to be relinked. So its sinking in realisation of what's coming its hitting me full force and I can't stop running.results that end in years of lies sucked in again with your repeated disguise .dreams that turn into dust .reality when its not love without your sacred trust.like a single tear that keeps on pouring .sea of hurt two soul mates in mourning. Goodbye my best friend I'll miss you more than life .a future you chose without me as your wife