Best Cull Poems
trijan refrain
The heart half full means something’s wrong -
the Spirit’s oil runs low.
When emptied, broken, we are strong
refilled, and ready so -
God’s strength can fix a heart gone dull
our selfish contents He can cull.
God’s strength restores
God’s strength restores
each day to keep our mark on full.
The heart half full means needs may go
unmet by God’s own grace.
We’re called to let our fellows know
that they can win this race.
God’s Word abounds with help each day,
it must be read to find the Way.
God’s Word abounds
God’s Word abounds
to fill the empty hearts who stray.
The heart half full calls us to prayer,
it’s time to take a break.
Engaged with work, no time to spare
another’s thirst to slake?
God’s love pours forth when we look up
and ask for wisdom in our cup.
God’s love pours forth
God’s love pours forth
enough to share, our neighbors sup.
posted September 19, 2014
**I realize this is a combination of iambic verse in tetrameter, trimeter, and dimeter but that is the requirement for a trijan refrain, a variable line length. If it does not meet the rules of your contest, I will understand.
"All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
And I intend to end up there." Rumi
In search of my beloved,
my supernova soul was born,
floating among gardens of glistening galaxies,
adoring heavenly hues of sapphire,
amethyst and emerald constellations,
where efflorescence butterflies,
fluttered among elysian scents.
Yet I still yearned for her forbidden fragrance.
Cultivating the art of transcendental romance,
euphoric emotions wrote an amaranthine aubade,
hoping the universe would hear my call,
as my love is a timeless lunar lullaby,
lingering like a flute echoing moonstone melodies,
where passion travels with each
nocturnal note composing a cosmic chorus,
ordained from an orchestra of galactic halos.
At twilight, in a playground of primrose promises,
millions of pulsar pearls appeared.
Silent and still, sentimental stars shimmering,
listening to the desires of my heart,
but at dawn they were always forgotten.
In my hallucination of loneliness,
fatigued from evanescent entities,
I awaited to hear her halcyon harmony,
until echoes vibrated from the moon,
so I became a slave to moonlight -
but it too, abandoned me at daylight.
Must I forever be the victim of selfish sunrise?
Upon the elegance of an ethereal eternal eclipse.
the last star wept sacred stardust on autumn leaves,
which glowed as they withered from scarlet to saffron.
In Nebula's November cull of death,
I fell like a comet in a meteor shower,
betrayed, falling into a quasar black hole -
lost forever.
Without interstellar lyrics,
I no longer illuminate,
maybe some light is too bright.
But, I know there is a rustic rose,
blossoming upon vintage shores,
so, every night I look up to the sky,
wondering where you are?
In these realms, within which I roam,
I watch each star suffocate
from the suppression of affection.
Seems no spectral spirit is selfless enough
to ignite this symphony of silence.
Maybe I was born a cosmic Casanova.
Maybe I'm just an intergalactic Romeo.
Corona virus sent to try us
Unnerve Confuse deplete divide us
It comes to scare it comes to kill
The vulnerable the old and ill
It spreads it’s panic it spreads it’s fear
It’s harsh unjust mortal ,severe
Dark and viscous it seeks and thrives
Culling the weak ending lives
Misery uncertainty you cannot comprehend
Deviant Inimical it’s aim is to offend
It feels like a movie it feels like a dream
Locked down and scared I want to scream
Fear of the doorbell fear of the street
Fear of the people I once used to meet
Fear for the loved ones I cannot be near
Fear of the virus fear of the fear
War is atrocious but the enemy’s clear
But the Invisible virus will never appear
It’s in the air it’s on the ground
On things you touch it’s all around
it seeks and finds the weak and old
And suffocates until their cold
It has no conscience no concerns
It feeds and thrives it lives and learns
Destroys and ruins breaks and hates
Silently it decimates
It Spreads so fast it’s hard to cope
There is no cure there’s only hope
It deals in death as it passes by
No comfort for the ones who die
Annihilation? is it’s mission
It needs no help or no permission
A wake of tears and misery
Is the only trace it leaves to see
Its pray is helpless and will not know
Until it’s time for them to go
Hungry for another soul
It now ramps up The human cull
Seas and borders no protection
The world now waits for its infection
A tiny mist of human breath
Will make you ill or cause your death
So hide away beyond detection
Spare your kisses your affection
Hide so you may be ok
And live to fight another day
Hide so there will always be
A hope for our humanity
It will not relent There is no cure
So Stay indoors and lock your door
Spare your touch and wash your hands
Observe the rules advice and bans
Save your kisses save your hug
And we will beat this deadly bug
I have no pearls of wisdom for you,
you wouldn’t listen in any event,
I’ll give you no advice,
no beatings will be any good either,
it’s not the gift that you need.
You were there for the casting of the die
but you somehow think you’ll survive.
I won’t tell you how to snatch up
the light bright lies that you’ve missed,
and the countless truths to follow,
the realities that so awkwardly escaped us
are a gift that you won’t accept.
I’ve seen the witless blundering
and transgression to shame us both.
I have no sage words for you,
but I have a single round in the chamber,
so I’ll take you out behind the shed
and in the daylight that summoned me
I’ll gift us a gift far greater.
14th December 2018
There once was a man whose intellect
He did not at anytime neglect
His imagination dull
New ideas he would cull
From his colleagues received no respect
Written: April 21, 2015
Albert Einstein quoted as saying, "The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but
imagination".
nothern hemisphere a month where nature begins to die
the lust of new year begets the last day of september a birth
gone the cull of nature another baby born today
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Attempts to cull the human unborn have caused mass controversy
despite the widespread damage this can cause to the population
under stable growth moving forward killing the weaker of our group
Whom are unable to defend themselves
from this violent abuse system ever originating
crushing morals branded as an inferior being
Devaluing it's space of origin with these loveless acts of aggression
towards another comes these deeply engraved remarks
twisting truth turns venom and drinks from the souls of those innocent bodies
Sacrificed as something rejected unworthy of love
murdered not being up to standard classified worthless
challenges the political role as lawless agendas creep
The wide scale damage this causes on society
at large it mounts up to an industry with inbuilt uncertainty
revisits our future as the signs of chaos condemning basic rights to death
Culling
Back in the ancient long ago,
We had the great Crusades,
Men with red crosses on their chest,
Used swords against scimitar blades,
Todays evil ones would murder all,
Is death a disease,
Does hatred of mankind, bitter gall,
Create such misery?
It is in man to cull the crop,
To trim the numbers there,
With 6 billion on the planet, stop,
Another, world slaughter, so unfair?
Murder is in the heart of some,
It festers, and the deed is done,
It’s enough to get you on the rum,
The bitter harvest there…
Don Johnson 23-aug-11
I saw her yet unopened love in bloom
So fearing then another suitor's chance
I reached to steal it from the hedge too soon
But felt the sting of thorns upon my hands
So then instead I chose a diff'rent scheme
To seize the object of my heart's desire
With cunning I might steal her love unseen
And pluck the rose from out within the briar
I shared with her the places of my soul
Where neither light nor love before could cull
I gave and yet somehow became more whole
And by the time her love had blossomed full
My heart had found to its great disbelief
That she'd become the crimson-handed thief
7.31.18
Contest: Not Just any Old Rose
Also submitted to contest: Rose Poetry
The day my life went so crazy
Was when I laid eyes on Daisy
She was an old sow
Who mooed like a cow
And drove all farmhands crazy
We tried to put her in a field
But sadly that pig wouldn’t yield
She’d sit down in her sty
And she wouldn’t comply
Her stubbornness would be revealed
I said Daisy you will come a cropper
The farmer will get you with a chopper
Daisy sat and chewed grass
And got mud on her a s s
Soon Daisy became quite a whopper
Old farmer Bill sharpened his knife
And showed the honed blade to his wife
He said it is time now
I must kill a fat sow
His poor wife just ran for her life!
The farmer went out to the shed
When Daisy saw him how just fled
She hid behind a bull
To escape a quick cull
I’m relieved there was no bloodshed!
N/A in The Day My Life Went Whacko Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
03/28/30
Ghetto me be a bleating poor refugee,
albeit I’m Goshen rich in faith
Got a manger stall in the USA,
Pilate shepherd of the Cesarian peace
Time stamped stillborn delivery
tis iron Roman numeral four C
Furnace cast existence: bane brand bound
Babylonian condition, a marketplace sound
Fleeced heritage ... sob separated,
I am just the latest stolen cargo generation
being cerulean cloth asphyxiated
By legion overseers of an ungrateful nation
These pyramid gnash, link bled bones
twas being Pharaoh oppressed: Prey worked to death
in a Memphis factory plantation owned
Where noxious hate suffocate poverty-cuffed breath
Be daily double tasked in a graveyard shift
Those pale hearts so addicted
to the golden flask, err tilted
Drunk on power, they cull with a siren sift
O miry, downtrodden me ...
temporally chained to this wavy treachery
Verily, a wretched place for a black sheep —
such cotton weary misery!
So after four centuries of Cain deluge,
I do still tearfully seek
A rainbow ark sacred place of refuge
promised to the meek
Trump Towers in Old Istanbul
Influenced our President's pull
Brown skins do not matter
So let the Kurds scatter
And enjoy the Turkey Shoot Cull
Pulchritudinous looks, unscrupulous ways hook
Junoesque one apart, pneumatic in mouthpart
Those coconut-like callipygian haunts cull
Leave alone howling wolves, despite being ourselves!
I have so many poems
dormant within my psyche
sitting waiting for a cull
midst fizzing to the surface
words circle above my head
in iridescent bubbles
dancing hovering in flight
the songbird fledgings soaring
seeing which take to the perch
as I hold out pen or finger
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~IN THE GARDEN OF MY FANTASY~ 2023
AP: 2nd place 2023, Honorable Mention 2020
Shattered bottled up dreams
strewn in callous fashion,
litter those Tobacco roads
of man-made poverty
Cancerous amorality
is the accepted dystopian reality
Majority rule by the metal ballot law ...
second finger got a gun pressed to the jaw
Diablo destiny decree:
Dos digital corrects any uno analog flaw
This warped sensibility
is the venal logic served pucker raw
A lot of lip sizzle buttery undercooked,
a lot of dead bang thievery overlooked
Ash fault neglect
is heaped on the next generation
of social experimentation
Petri dish promises
are furtive cloned assertions
Silky slick politricking on the wifi
(why fi-nance poor citizens’ aspirations)
is a web of deceit ...
tax-deductible alm desertion
Roll the lively military drums,
let the drones deliver
a hollow incoming death hum
Victory is counted as being “less of,”
cull the bottom feeders of a wolfbane society —
This is the favorite poison ivy scheme
of the power pyramid builders:
Soulless architects
erecting a crooked obelisk dystopian reality
And this fractured,
motion picture reel nightmare
still ain’t murky half as bad as it’s gonna be