Best Contemplations Poems
What if I, perchance
never do awake?
My solace in eternity
to partake.
Existing in a realm of God,
not of men.
Joy, gratitude, to be His
Forever angel, then.
Heavenly body, golden,
that truly shines,
Finally, in His uuniverse,
Utterly divine!
Living in His world must be
so glorious.
Experiencing the fateful joy,
of being humbly victorious!
5/21/2024
Life secretly offering fleeting moments of happiness… but the underlying sadness creeps through; the grief of human condition always seeps through from the unconscious. I always imagined it as the watery liquid separating from the unctuous and the solid matter of the brain as a pervading force that relentlessly pursued my happiness.
I am reminded often that this life offers no protracted security of contentment only taunting bits of joy.
Is that what we must satisfy ourselves with then? We are to be grateful solely for the passing seconds of joy.
In this life we are offered only an empire of dirt and the subconscious encumbered with the knowledge that we are merely destined become part of that empire.
Must we honor the promises we make in dreams?
The same moral aspects would pertain, it seems,
and fate would (if the rules of justice still apply),
a dream's blissful amorous rendezvous, deny.
Must I live my waking life bound by dream pledges?
It's too much to trim Scarlett Johannson's hedges.
Dare we wear the frocks of an old year’s passing
into the new… threaded deeds overlapping?
Or bare we anew on fresh laden free wings
the beckoning’s to come of much newer things?
Shall we leave behind what’s said and done
or let them follow… raveling threads undone?
As the coming year, now, knocks at our doors
shall we journey unburdened to newfound shores?
Our inner self charged with tasks overbearing
discarding the cloaks of last year’s wearing
A few days to spend lamenting past distractions
prayerfully packing for the coming attractions
How beautiful the thoughts of renewed attiring
hopes and dreams budding with faith aspiring
© Debra Squyres 2013
May the coming New Year bring you all that you need
and may love always resided within your heart's door
Happy New Year to one and all !!
If I were to write a poem, what should it say? Should it be a dabbling
of abstract thoughts, a fantasy, a tragedy, a meandering? Should it
come from my imagination, a charade, an abstract of image, a delusion,
a fabrication? Should it not come from life experiences, lessons learned,
a guide line, a compass, an anecdote?
The wisdom gained from our experiences in life is the most precious
of all.
The love, loss, pleasure, pain, sacrifice, struggle, happiness, despair,
grief, sadness and sorrow are our teachers if we are wise and our
spirit and heart open to receive the knowledge. It is of more
value than diamonds, emeralds, or any other thing of temporal
value. It is a truth, a spring clear and purifying, a well of
experience, a song in our spirit, a familiar voice. It is a gift,
a companion, a lesson to teach us humility, a measuring rod showing
us how we have faired compared to our fellow man. It is wings to
lift us up, to open our minds, to compel us to have empathy,
sympathy, to give and help our fellow man. It is love unbound, a
stream overflowing with kindness, compassion, desire to make
ourselves better and shine so others see the way clearly.
Contemplation is what is required to maintain a healthy mind. With it, you will have the power to communicate. Without it, you will join that ever increasing group of zombies you will pass by almost everyday of your living existence.
Contemplate that you are not what you think you are, but rather, you are what you think others think you are.
Contemplate the fact that we are really only prisoners in this world, like a person in for life. Our reality, accept it or not, nobody gets out of this world ALIVE.
Contemplate that the question really is 2bpositive, or NOT 2bpositive, that IS the (only real) question.
Contemplate that ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies is better than asking those questions and NOT knowing you're getting (only) lies.
Contemplate that being free is not doing what you want to do. True freedom, is the strength of character and fortitude to do what you DON'T want to do.
Contemplate that if you contemplate, you must be alive. However, if you elevate yourself as a giving human being as well due to your contemplating, you can be confident that you probably have a healthy soul as well.
Contemplate that the answers for the mysteries of life that you always sought , won't be that long in coming. These answers are only as far away as your remaining time in this world.
Contemplate what is the worst thing that man can do to you in this world, that your death ultimately cannot make up for.
Contemplate that although human nature is to acquire, on your way to meet your Maker, ultimately, you'll no longer have a need for pockets.
Contemplate that the value of the one true friend waiting for you tomorrow, outweighs the 100 friends you think you have today.
Contemplate that with age comes wisdom and with wisdom power--does not always guarantee--that with this newly acquired power will come wisdom.
Contemplate and if you have the brain to really contemplate, then you'll continue to contemplate and reset your life's navigational and logistic apparatus accordingly.
contemplation is like a fascination
only you control, its illumination
and decide its dissemination
hopefully, without discrimination
it is a place to go
a place to show
but most of all
THE place to grow..............
Contemplations, Thoughts, Feelings
Can love – once again - find a way to open its door a crack ?
Can all the forgotten – lost feelings, ever find their way back ?
Or is it, – as lately it seems – the cards are against me, stacked
and there will never be a road – against the wall I am backed !
B. J. “A ” 2
September 14th 2004
Thoughts—desires of mind;
Truth—reality that is:-
Be aware of both…
Ideology—
Subjective desires & hopes;
Nemesis of truth…
Look at the children,
A living human rainbow:-
Then comes adulthood…!
Truth is what it is,
Ideology is not;
Both control our lives.
Some people are like flowers
Fine as long as they’re not ours!
******
Yes! I love staying in my ivory tower
And I enjoy spending everyday and hour!
******
If there’s in this world only one truth
It would be the fading of youth!
******
Since the world began till it ends
There’s no worse than the betrayal of friends!
******
I thank god who has all the knowledge and might
That he took me from the people’s darkness…….
Out to the loneliness light!
******
Thank you god for keeping me away from people
And if that’s weakness, please keep me feeble!
Ten Kinds of Quiet
David J Walker
Some are messages
Floating in a sunburst breeze
Catching in limbs of
Sycamore trees
Meant for me
But only those
That I could read
While swiftly flying by
Meanings modified
In a rising sun
The day has begun
Traffic lights
Coffee shops
A dry run of
Conversations
Taking place later
Rather than sooner
Sometime today
There are ten kinds of quiet
Or so I have read
Nothing said
In the rest of the mornings
contemplations
Smiles run across their faces
But I am beyond mellow
I want to run far away
But I want to never leave
I want to change
But I love myself
I want to go further
but I fear change
I want to succeed
I want to cut through my depression
I want to go on
I want to survive.
In my head are dark contemplations
Rattled by silent reflection
I fear my introspection
And my own damnation
Scrawled on concert halls
And ghost town malls
See my eyes
Death lies
...Why?
Ripples of vibrant streams stagnate
Songs of flapping birds relocate
Forest rustles hibernate
Skeletal trees shake, underdressed
Mushy, scabbed apples numbly rest
Brisk, harsh breezes pierce life's chest
Pruned trees develop healing scars
Skies of pewter, stone, and smudged chars
Meet to contemplate the stars
Sorrow and indifference blend
A crocus and daylight ascend
~The beginning of death's end
1/21/2021
Cerebrate Contemplations
David J Walker
Knowing the nature of forever
Is understanding that never is not a
Natural option
The never of ever letting go
of a single day
is the beginning of
Natures empathic nature
Of nature’s prophetic cognition
Perceptions printed from various
Points of view of conviction
Credulities creation
Credence as the price of admission
The cadence of the passengers conductor on
The only night train through
This small town
once in a month
Find me in the Somnolent ev’n tide
In the arms of Cerebrate contemplations
I've spilled blood in France,
and toured long the tired mile,
and I've seen all bones and gold,
Place Concorde,
and Château de Versailles,
yet Paris is not built with stone...
nor made real with the work of men,
it is a state of mind, and a dream
that never ends.