Best Degrees Poems
The screen door slams behind me
As I rush out into the blinding sunlight
Wondering where my big brother is hiding
I better get to the pool before he finds me
And throws me into the ice cold water
That flows daily into the pool
From the cold mountain streams
Of the Elbrus Mountains
I have my pretty pink flowered bathing suit on
My second skin
I smile as I remember someone calling me a dolphin
When she saw me swimming in the water
Now I can’t wait to get in again
I feel the prickly yellowing grass beneath my feet
As I run toward the weeping willow….
My favorite tree in the whole compound
First phase of the run complete
I head toward the ancient mulberry tree
How I hate the squishiness under my toes
As I trample them in this patch of green
Where the grass is protected by the mighty branches
Of this gracious tree that provides us
An abundance of luscious fruit
We gather every summer in big bed sheets
As people up in the branches
Shake the tree
I’m on my final leg
Almost there
A rebel yell
And my brother swoops down on me
From behind the tree
I scream as I try to get away
But he sweeps me up in his arms
And runs the last few feet to the pool
I shriek at the top of my lungs
Which will probably bring my uncle out yelling
Awakened from his afternoon nap
I want to go into the pool gradually
By degrees…
To get my body used to the icy coldness
And so I beg to be released
We are there
At the edge of the pool
One sweeping motion
And water splashes up in rainbow sprays
As I sink below
Down into the icy depth at the deep end
Thinking this time my heart will stop
This time I will turn into a block of ice
And sink to the bottom
I will drown
A lifetime later
I break the surface and see him smiling down at me
The one who taught me how to swim
My strong older brother
Who would rescue me in a heartbeat
If need be...
I smile up at him
As I break into a smooth swim to the other side
Happy that he didn't let me play the fool
Standing at the edge of the pool
Waiting to come down the steps
By degrees
Waiting
To get lost
Into this liquid paradise
Of azure blue...
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Where to? Just to walk?
Dressed in long garment like ghost?
A question mark in purse… gold!?
She preferred a walk!
Missed her crooked edgy boat!
Just went to walk down the road…
Looking at picture
In the hands of the painter
Van Gogh’s mystery nurtured
He drew her prayer…
In her purse she did question
Why!? Was just a tough question
Wondering how could
That happen in night’s second!
Hefty waters dashing… haunt!!
The chimney trembles!
An earthquake wakes up fixed days!
See a muddy unpaved ways?
Though all wide paved roads
Reach Britania’s bay… north?
Shown on left corner’s foot’s coy
Enlarge picture here…
Her garment is night-time sleep
See the shooting stars racing heap?
Umbrella is closed
Carried lest harsh rain is dropped
Fall signed surprises to roll…
The roof is breaking!
But picture of landscape’s tweak
Is seven degrees… earthquake’s squeeze!
What caused that earthquake?
Look close… hills’ dance! Wave!
Tsunamis launch big headache…
The sun’s round high rays
Amazing view! Beneath slate!
Above roof tops water stays!
Can’t take my eyes off
That white house’ name looks… hello!
Van Gogh meant… white house we know..!
The cleverest knew
Floods and blubbers can dash through
The Atlantic Ocean’s see through..!
Since past styles distort
But now all styles run the show
The broken boat… does not flow!
The ark as in boat..!!
Seems like Noah’s ark… didn’t row!
Got broken on hills… the road!
Looks like Broken Wa-
gon town fits show on sheer Van
Gogh’s print… water’s sketch grade’s class!
Under her smooth feet
Hilltops’ visage… very week...
Vast landscapes flattened… see here?
Till water recedes…
With hefty tears of few years
Trotting in Van Gogh’s tart dreams.
BY: Nadia F. Shahwan – September 2009. The portrait of “White House at night” by Vincent
Van Gogh was the inspiration of my poem-Seven Degrees.
Spilling from the lintel,
a pitcher saves the ice from anonymity.
Rafters creak, the sounds of winter
rattle through the cabin eerily.
Memories of dead and gone,
whistles of wind, the monotony
whispers and drags through the days
like a chilling lament.
Hours burn so slowly,
like embers refusing to ebb,
reminiscences stutter
and fade, no lasting testament.
Evenings and mornings
now bleed with the same deep regret;
he's losing all feeling,
as cold as cold can get.
So you've been around the world and
Have university degrees and
Married
With lots of trophies?
With all you have-
You should be ashamed
Throughout your life-
No wisdom you have gained?
So this is your worth and
this is your cost
today you have everything
so tomorrow- will be lost.
I lay here scribbling words
Feeling guilty as can be,
Who cares about the starving children
and bombarding vanity?
Just- I am an adult and
i don't know how to help
Innocence dying
Whilst others sit on wealth.
No.... no I have no money,
Not enough to share
Though trying to express
that i really care.
With knowledge they are fighting
wishing for mere food and
Here are the others-
Who are selfish and so rude.
Been around the world?
What about the starving children?
Have university degrees?
What about the starving children??
Your married?
What about the starving children???
Lots of trophies?
WHAT ABOUT THE STARVING CHILDREN????
Sincerely wish you a great holiday and
Your shopping is well spent!
God help me I am starving and
I'm innocent.
HEAT BY DEGREES (a semi erotic poem)
Feathered shivering fingertips
give way to erotic heat by degrees,
the hot-cool beat of lovers in cadence.
If, when on this journey of perplexing events
one learns about love's secret itinerary,
it would be wise to remember,
passion invites, the possession of which
varies in heat by degrees.
and with most individuals save a few,
like a drug, it subdues withdrawal pains
for just a short time.
When the caresses have begun to mellow,
trysts, in heat by degrees, again start to ascend
stealthfully lurking, to buoyant rising from
places deep in the corrugated shadows
of man's frenetic mind.
Infused, and fired with singular intention,
heat by degrees unabashedly exposes
greater levels of agitation and rushes forth
unrestrained by any rational reasoning.
Ah, but when basted by the tested
and proven love of blended familiar flavors,
the savoring of remembered exotic delights,
becomes richer and more pleasing and
the heat by degrees flames evenly
and ever so slightly down, waiting for love
to be served at just the right temperature.
C.A.K. 2-10-2013
Aching OA and RSI.
(not to mention RSSI,
an understudy in CTE)
The ever dependable SAD.
Add the ADD to the PTSD,
the monthly dose of PMS
and the occasional case of RLS.
Not to be forgotten
is the Great TBI.
Yes!
Working on a Doctorate of Life I am.
Holy Crap, going to be fifty degrees today
Can't believe it, something is out of whack, I say
The buds are stirring
Warm winds are whirring
Quite delusional, maybe bumped my head in the night, eh
First Degree
Then Position
Followed by a split/decision
English teacher, bent on fiction
And proponent of proper diction
Second Degree
Master in Education
No time for any vacation
Exemplary professor of nation
Specializing in sentence formation
Third Degree
Doctor of Fine Arts
Emphasizing music’s charms
Especially Bach and Brahms
Lullaby, sonatas and songs
Spilling from the lintel,
a pitcher saves the ice from anonymity,
rafters creak, the sounds of winter
rattle through the cabin eerily.
Memories of dead and gone,
whistles of wind, the monotony
whispers and drags through the days
like a chilling lament.
Hours slip by slowly,
embers gradually dying,
reminiscences stutter and fade,
no lasting testament.
Evenings and mornings
now bleed with the same deep regret;
losing his feeling,
he's as cold as cold can get.
pizza and beer, hot summer breezes
marinara flavor, and melted cheeses
sourdough knows how to navigate my soul
pizza pie is my food goddess idol
soft with a hint of warmth, freshness absorbed
one bite and oh lord, a believer is born
out the oven, 510 degrees, cut on the stone
save a piece, foodie lovin, just me at home
i will eat this till none, newcastle havin fun
watch a setting sun, shadows start to run
things i live for, pleasures that keep me awake
refreshing brews, and a homemade pizza to bake
Concerned Christian environmentalists truthfully believe God created the life forms inside the oceans, lakes and seas. He left mankind a legacy, he was suppose to be responsible for these marine life species. It is of utmost importance people listen to dedicated groups such as 350 Degrees.
Other countries and other municipalities. have either banned or restricted plastic shopping bags. But restriction and banning in the United States is accomplished by mainly municipalities. It is my prayer that the City of Everett joins them. I phoned Olympia's legislative hotline 1-800-562-6000. And left them this message banning those plastic bags city by city takes much too long.
Where did most of our plastic garbage end up? In other nations of the world, and they have had enough! They believe we created it and should be held responsible for its clean up. Those bags are non-biodegradable and are potentially harmful. They are rapidly filling up our over crowed landfills.
Haven't we had enough of turning our oceans, lakes and seas into human plastic garbage dumps? Because of human wanton carelessness, soon this planet will become inhabitable for even us. How many marine sea life must die? How many fish, and clams and other food sources of man, live on plastic?
People are becoming concerned about recycling of plastic. It is only possible if the products recycling labels have numbers one or two. Products can only be recycled once! You do not have to believe me, but you need to listen to 350 Degrees.
Our polluted oceans are rapidly becoming warmer leading to increased hurricanes, floods and tornadoes. Natural and man made disasters are occurring with more frequency and intensities. Covering a wide disaster range, and displacing its victims. Those people are facing their problems by faith in Jesus Christ. Neighbors and churches are helping each other!
Love as always!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
October 31, 2018
Roxy 54/ October Country
Is it more insane
to long to grow away from prisons
than to feel we still belong imprisoned?
Are we already prisoners,
lacking images for liberties
and co-arising responsibilities,
of a re-embodied god?
Are we divine authorities
to remake humanity
in our own god and goddess incarnations
free of body limiting imaginations?
Could we imagine
a YHWH who embodies Earth,
cosmologically evolving through spacetime,
revolving
spiraling dense and complex octaves
of color as resonant scales of sound,
fragrance within redundant seasons
of FatherSpace suns and black star-caves
passing through MotherTime valleys and waves?
Imagine we are stardust
coming to see ourselves
as we might bust
hard thrust
know lust
grow trust
blow truth
speak sooth,
unfortunately rust,
imaging ourselves
through redefining us
across healthing regenerations.
Are we less insane
longing our way from prison
belonging free
without cancerously capital-investing cells?
Punishment spells?
BigDaddy will swell
if we tell
I am
where we are;
We are
where we belong.
I can't cower
if you think that's wrong
I can only sing
how god wrote my song.
And I can only dance
where Allah could best prance strong.
And we can only breathe
what TaoTime finds notnot
too double-binding long.
I think I would be wrong
to imprison what longs
to virally throng.
Aren't we more insane
stuck in retribution's prison
when god cries out for peace
restoring Earth's freedom
from FalsePatriotic lies,
paternalism fried,
too many species
and future generations
of sacred Time's regeneration
already died.
If only we had tried
a little less LeftBrain secular crazy
and a lot less RightBrain sacred lazy
Is it less insane
to long to stay in prison
than to know we don't belong
imprisoned
or enslaved
to insanity ourselves?
Ladies and gentlemen
I am sure there are,
more than ten degrees
of laziness.
I’m just to lazy
to write them.
Please feel free to add more
degrees of laziness
in your comments below.
First-degree of laziness
People who won’t
do anything,
if they can get
someone to do it
for them.
Second-degree of laziness
Putting off anything,
that needs doing,
Because you don’t
feel like it.
Third-degree of laziness
Taking all the time
in the world, to do,
anything people
ask you to do.
Fourth-degree of laziness
comes when
you feel fine...
calling in sick.
Fifth-degree of laziness
Avoiding work of any kind,
At any time.
Sixth degree of laziness
Placing your Fitbit
on your dog,
to log your steps.
Seventh-degree of laziness
Refusing to learn
what you need to know.
Which includes
reading instructions
or asking for directions
when lost.
Eighth-degree of laziness
Refusing to take part,
in any pleasing sexual act.
(When you don’t give a f**k!)
Not that you can’t
Get it up!
Ninth-degree of laziness
When you refuse
to do the chores
that need doing.
Like Grocery shopping,
Cooking dinner.
Walking the dog
or mowing the lawn.
Tenth degree of laziness
When you are known,
for not returning things
you have borrowed.
Degrees of Blue
Sadness is a shade, a color, a hue
Sadness varies in degrees of blue
Little Boy lost, room without a view
A fresh heartbreak so sad but true...
Emptiness drowns in the chest of sorrow
Loneliness takes away all the morrow
Love is another thing that you can't borrow
The light at the end of the tunnel is so far though...
Left with the sad decision you're done here
Troubled soul obviously thinking unclear
Down each cheek slides one last blue tear
The emptiness in sadness the unconquerable fear...
bmdavey@10/04/16
Awaken frozen years of fright
The light that died within the night
The last of all you want to be
In eyes that no longer want to see
The turning of your sins to truth
Experience that handed proof
That falling down will make you rise
The mirror burning through your lies
Awaken shivering months of pain
The same old story; same old games
The fear that sunk into your heart
In hate you thought could not depart
Through every hurt that cracks your throne
There’s a silent story to decode
Now understand; ignite your mind
Now light the way and step outside
Awaken screaming days of loss
The counting down of every cost
The breaking child becoming ice
In eyes that suffer a thousand lives
Awaken this moment of return
Though the pain will briefly burn
Step through your shadow and become
The shining light without the sun