Best Constructions Poems
The Calamity of Nepal Part 2 Concluded
The crisis of Nepal is not only the result
Of manmade deeds and erratic constructions
Of erecting unplanned houses and roads
Creating illegal buildings and dams
And erecting high mountain reservoirs
On ocean like river Brahmaputra. 08
All these and many other
Horrible acts
Of changing or removing the mountain peaks
For roads, rails and for
Making concrete jungles
Without caring that
It is the most sensitive area of Earth
Where two giant Earth plates
Meet regularly almost everyday
Not for making gossips
But for making their kind of Love
Where, they often collide with each other
To determine, who has lost and who has won
These forces create
Havocs like the one we are witnessing in Nepal
They do it to take revenge
For the cruelties
Done by humans with the Nature
And with the mother earth. 09
The Earthquake is also the result
Of hollowing the heart of Himalaya
For making tunnels after tunnels and rails
For mining the hills and
Deforesting the green valleys
Removing forests after forests
For illegal mining and for erecting dams
For these reasons perhaps
The Earthquakes has hit Nepal and India both
But in Nepal it has done the worst
In spite of being affected by this crisis too
India is trying its best to help the people of Nepal
And now there are many other countries
Trying and helping the people of Nepal
Like a true good neighbor and well wisher. 10
All that is needed
In the hour of this terrible crisis
Is that we all should try to help
The people of Nepal
Treating them like our own
Next door neighbors and friends
For which every faith and religion
Always inspires us. 11
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 30th April 2015
Categories:
constructions, analogy, earth, natural disasters,
Form:
Free verse
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Categories:
constructions, men, society, women,
Form:
Free verse
Buildings go up
Trees come down
Country living
Becomes a town.
Wildlife vanishes
Streets appear
The destruction of yesterday
Draws quickly near.
Lights are abundant
Stars are no more
The horizon is hidden
Behind constructions decor.
Greed runs wild
Where nature walks
Silence is golden
But money talks.
Farms erased
Corporations written
The beauty of our land
No longer smitten.
Fresh air shrinks
Pollution expands
Across this vast country
Litter stands.
Liquor stores go up
Wetlands come down
In human stupor
Nature drowns
Categories:
constructions, inspirational
Form:
Rhyme
~Pangie's Sunday Special~
Old Sol is shining and I am too!!
Wishing the same for each poet, too.
For those who love me, thank you for
all your love and true hugs that help
me to function,
For those who loathe me, that's Ok,
Gods power protects me from your
plans for my destruction.
Thank you to my special angels here,
who are part of God's plan of my poetic
constructions!
May Old Sol keep you ecstatic, till he
sets in the Wesf!
And you will smile, knowing you have
done your sparkling best.
Stay close to those poets who wish you
the best.
Hopeless, useless to worry about all the rest.
God designed you to follow his path,
Concern yourself not, with selfish man's
wrath.
9/12/2021
Categories:
constructions, blessing, courage, friendship, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
Tomorrow is an illusion
It relies on assumption
Of the planet’s rotation
On the seasons’ migration
And the moon’s revolution
On man’s innovation
And his evolution
For his interpretation
Or insinuation
And theorisation
On Law’s of gravitation
Using invention
And his powers of investigation
And logical deduction
To step into a new dimension
Tomorrow is a delusion
Near fiction
The mind’s naive projection
Ideas in a flight simulation
To an unknown destination
An unsure predetermination
Existing only in the imagination
In faith and inspiration
A trust in Creation
The end and Armageddon
In God and salvation
In hell and eternal damnation
In the atheist’s condemnation
In the calendar’s punctuation
The watch’s precision
And space’s expansion
The diaries memorisation
A woman’s intuition
A mother’s preparation
Sessions in competition
Promises in dissection
A man’s anticipation
A father’s frustration
About the son’s relation
To a boy he doesn’t care to mention
And how this affects his maturation
His future and direction
His love and affection
And his own stagnation
His failing career progression
His future contemplation
Deserving some consideration
In a 24 hour formulation
Tomorrow is today in suspension
The now in detention
Willpower in dilution
Efforts in relaxation
Laziness in expedition
Creativity in isolation
The soul in prison
The imagination's manipulation
We have planned constructions
And demolitions
Holiday vacations
And our children’s graduations,
But tomorrow’s nomination
Is an unguaranteed estimation
A naive procrastination
A false realisation
An amoral actualisation
To our conclusion
And finalisation
Tomorrow the motivation
The fear of extinction
Of the earth's desertification
The world in motion
A noble notion
The only reason
The leading question
Forever our mission
Tomorrow's aviation
Tomorrow an exploration
Categories:
constructions, future, philosophy, , atheist,
Form:
Rhyme
Writing in a room with an insolent ceiling,
Haughty in its skill at keeping thoughts out of reach,
Emotions darted above me, bat-like in their evasion,
A rapture of denial, pushing me away.
Ever I spun toward memory - always a quarter-turn ahead;
The seasons hid their faces, the Heavens turned their back,
Inspiration's cache stood just offshore, vanishing in fog;
What room was this - I was lost, off-center.
Every poem unwrote itself, the merest beginning hope
having fallen to dust; my mind and body were false constructions.
At the last, light and darkness gave up definition,
The walls and floor coming to the point without me.
March 25, 2017
Categories:
constructions, muse, poems, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Holograms and hieroglyphs
The whole weighs heavily
touched caressed lightly
brushed on feather canvass
granite marble marvellous papyrus
innocence rejuvenated
partial and impartial
Chiselled in and out
of comprehension angled
layered facets facts
subjective trueness
ciphered and deciphered
Snow flakes teardrops
ink on paper hailing crystals
pastel rainbows thunderbolts
and blind pitch black darkness
tell the story weathered lives
Freedom torrent lightening
anxious reproduction
wholesome holes concatenations
metaphoric mosaic translates
picturesque ‘holos’ trying to emerge
Vertex vortex on horizons
told untold forgotten
and beyond beheld
diagonal a-synchronicity
discovered spoken written
felt and never once complete
Lyric lasers beaming densely
condensation compromised
at the cutting edge of aural light
lacking graphic clarity
eluding synthesized illusion
Once we decipher unconventional
primal prismatic re-reflections
meanings life calligraphy
inscriptions narrative conceptions
we enclose and liberate
the hologram that seems to be
Infinite eternity of scripts
encrypted systems
webs of life’s distortions
fragmentation truth reality
paint the picture of
conflicting contradictions
making sense constructions
lithographic mystery
moulded into understanding
Holograms are limited to
the scope of three dimensions
tending mind and body soul
complementing contrasts
hollow narrow depth untold
Burrowed in words rational
irrational emotions rationale
defence deflections oppressed
repression incarceration
loose out transitional
transcriptions miss the point by far
the bigger picture yet emerging
uncertain clarity sculpted
in hieroglyphic excavation
Carving holy boundless beauty
with the fourth dimension
of subjective sense perception
and the changing timeless
flowing circuit circus artwork
in the making reading writing
on the imaginary wall of life
over and above the hologram
engraved in fallacies
arrests of real unreal reality and
strikes the balance never known
of what is and only seems to be
22th May 2016-05-22
Contest entered: Holograms and Hieroglyphs
Categories:
constructions, space, time, travel, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Thoughts
Thoughts of – conceived within the womb of my mind.
Reality of – it is her desire to terminate before birth – so unkind !
Thoughts of – built upon this old man’s illusions.
Reality – dreams and desires of – constructions of delusions.
With you – I have felt, I feel not but confusion.
Love, respect, consideration- from you, I‘d love to find.
Passion known – making love with you – would be so sublime.
Oh !, how I would love to reach, and touch the end of my time
in the arms, the glory, the thoughts of you – beyond this rhyme.
It appears – from your words, your actions – there will be no fusion
of minds, bodies, souls or spirits as I real in the throes of confusion.
Confusion that comes on the heels of a reality – it is one and not two.
Lone on this journey – there will be I – elsewhere, it will be only you.
As I contemplate, us to be as one, I have to wonder ?, nothing I can do !
B. J. “A ” 2
January 23rd 2007
Categories:
constructions, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
Nile spreads through the valley like a snake
Pyramids look awesome in rays of sun about to wake
Pyramids are strong constructions can even take small earthquake
They are made of limestone granite or bricks that in sun would bake
It is a grand ancient tomb
But for pharaohs’ soul it is a womb
The place where spirit will bloom
So gate to heaven is the tomb
There are pyramids in many places
But England is more famous for stone filling round spaces
Main stone sun at time of equinox and solstice faces
Is there a distant correlation between those two add places
If one researches them it will be found
They were both used as burial ground
One being a great mound
The other circle with stones when hit emitting clear sound
But perhaps there is something that left no physical clue
But that predates the two
And I believe it to be true
That black shuck to its existence last remaining clue
I don’t know wheatear it was actually build cubit by cubit
Or does it exist only in spirit
But if it would be build it would be round pyramid with a summit
Cone, round like Stonehenge lines meeting in pyramid like summit
The lines depict all the dimensions of vortex that mixes time
And the summit is place most prime
Most sublime
This is where lines of destiny growth intersect growth of divine at top of the climb
And black shuck with its Cyclops like eye
Looking at the midnight sky
It is a guardian of that structure that reaches the sky
Where some people go after they die
Like a pyramid it is a tomb
But like it is also a womb
Where greatest of spirits bloom
And the fearsome black dog is guardian of that sacred room
Categories:
constructions, animal, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
It's odd to realize that ones life is best described experientially, as a series of discoveries in an irreducible phenomenon cast in viscus matrices.
"These Days": The superficial and arbitrary way with which we sever experience and consciousness, yet neither emotionally, nor intellectually, are we cognizant of the ephemeral boundaries.
Time, as a biological value, carries over into our social constructions, but there, its value ends. That it is "a-prior" is hard to argue with. That it does not extend into the intellectual realm is also too plain to deny. How odd, its ready departure in the face of intellectual or emotional pursuits.
"These Days"- fraught with time's non-contingencies; The seemingly unrelated images and concepts merging to suggest something more than their singular aspects would allow ~
a broken dream assuaged by the coffee machine's sharp scuttering; a waterless complaint, and her image; no longer the bright charged view, fading in forgetting's white-grace, but content to become instead, the liquid shadows of empty-spaces, where time floats down in dangerous obedience to an undiscoverable gravity, like the broken feathers of a silent, celestial war
Categories:
constructions, analogy, muse, myth,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime.
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. wiki leaks,
google maps, g.mails, the Xbox play and i.phone
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. we all tweet,
the news and thoughts, sitting in cozy office and a coffee
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. the bails outs,
the stock markets and the emergency meetings
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. it will spin on
its axis, same markets of iraq and karachi, & afghans
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Same
complains conspiracies theories and blame game
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Constructions,
accusations, malls and shopping festivals
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Traffic jams,
blackberry messaging, office reporting and bills
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime.
Categories:
constructions, allegory, hope, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Heart is where my home finds graceful relationship,
where my soul simply breathes
beneath my memories of becoming,
of being at my best,
sometimes my worst,
but always my most full, complete,
most abundantly contentious
and both loudly out
and quietly in
content.
Home unveils life's liturgy.
This home wherein I was conceived
and born
rebirths me each dawn
and decomposes all my dreams
where I grow up and out,
where siblings moved away
from whom I married,
from where I buried my grandparents,
and then my parents.
As my body houses identity
my home houses body.
While home and self-identity
I can distinguish,
one self from other,
this is never a benign
or wisely severe discrimination;
better as a distinction
without prospects today for contented difference;
dishearted separation.
My soul and mind and body fade and wilt
withdrawn by force and circumstance
from embryonic being.
To awaken or sleep away
in any profanely alien place,
without power or even hope to return
to more sacred memoried space,
fades my eyes and ears and nose,
my skin down to my spinal bones,
despair this senseless loss of sense
of life and breath and bread that once was mine
and could be mine to share again.
My home is where I live
my view of neighbors and town and Earth and life
flowing sedately toward, then past too quickly
on my backyard river of memory,
greeting ducks and swans
herons and eagles soaring by
to hunt this fertile rippling home with me
now fading into memory
as shades of sympathy
not entropy,
sad self-isolating apathy
from my heart's dismembering womb.
Lavish price for a new bodied home
invites sublimating new constructions
with best familiar practices and intents,
artifacts of golden memories from past days
and life
and loves
reframed by unfamiliar
but grace welcoming
trees
and birds
and a few persistent weeds.
Categories:
constructions, age, home, identity, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Plutonium ensures growth.
More Plutonium, more growths.
Fewer bombs increase the risk of unemployment.
More bombs increase the risk of employment.
Bombs for peace.
More bombs, more pieces.
Bombs to profit this nation.
More bombs, more profits.
Bombs bring potential enemies to the table.
More bombs, more potential enemies, more tables.
Bombs deter enemies from using bombs against us.
More bombs deter more enemies from using more bombs against us.
Bombs aid the construction industry.
More bombs, more constructions.
Funny, when I was a little boy, I thought
All bombs could do was explode.
How Far We’ve Come
Back in the Dark Ages with their lack of drains,
hygiene, refuse disposal and community dustmen,
Ignorance and superstition reigned rats and hogs.
Spreading from the Black Sea, the Black Death
Brought half of Europe to its grave. After the fall
Of Constantinople, a century on, came the New Learning
and the Renaissance, when Man was proud of being Man.
New worlds were discovered; science was born.
For Francis Bacon science was the source of power:
“Nature obey if you would be her lord.”
Later it was realized, utopias with clean streets
Must be defended, and that by science.
Now the rockets stand erect, poised to poison,
To spill the obscene beans and bugs to finish off.
Do up those buttons, Adam, or you return to dust
Before your time, lest the last mass turbulence
Reveals too late to what impotence
Our potent forces lead. Who then will ask
Or answer why our best minds, blind only
To the obvious, served to devise the means
Of mass destruction in the hire of governments
Of the people, by the people, for the people
Left dead or dying with no one to erect
Crosses to them in the shade of Adam’s tree?
While the True Vine cries” “Father, why..?,”
And heady Dionysus notes how potent was his drug,
Adam haves one final, futile, groan,
Upon this dark eve.
Categories:
constructions, addiction, holocaust, vanity,
Form:
Free verse
The storm just threw and swirled
Paints of grey, black and dark blue
All over our Earthly dome
Like a rageful Pollock.
Wondrous,
The noise and the lightning
Turned us small
The waves of flood
Slamming against the feeble constructions
Carrying away cars,trees and dogs
Making me think
Of Thor, Iansã and Zeus
Neglecting all I've learned about
electrons behavior and magnetism
To think of gods from ancient times
Perhaps acknowledging
How extraordinary and dreadful a tempest is
Some people let the storm in
Pointlessly trying to run somewhere
Only to be carried away
And increase the general tension
How long could this last?
How far will it go?
How harder can this wind blow?
What if this...
And what if that?
How long can a minute last?
We look at each other eyes
A scared silent crowd
Looking for the same instinctive answers
Then as if the painter
Had changed his mind
The darkness is gone
Cleaned with a cloth wipe
The rough wind is now a soft breeze
Blowing the fragrances of earth and eucalyptus
Up my nostrils and over my face
The clouds are revolving
With light shades of grey and magnolia white
Over the most beautiful of all blues
There's a deep heavy silence
A few muffled and distant sounds
Or perhaps it's only me
Caught in a dimensional current
To share with all those humans before me
The feelings of bewilderment and impotence
In face of Nature's outbursts
And with a grateful soul
To finally understand
How the seeds of hope
Could repeatedly be sown and grown
In the human heart
Since the beginning of times.
Categories:
constructions, natural disasters, nature, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Hieroglyphs etched upon rock walls
Leave clues for future observations.
Egyptian artists in ancient times
Told their stories in animations.
Holograms are recent constructions
That employ 3-D displays
On two dimensional surfaces,
On which its objects amaze.
Categories:
constructions, language, science,
Form:
Quatrain