Best Dispense Poems
Oh! soul, strum with every pulse, strings of wisdom
Be in the known, yet, be conscientious of unknown
What you claim to possess, don’t let it possess you
Don’t speak words of sapience, unless you are true
Borrow not thoughts of others, enlighten your own
Never be the shadow that hinders seedlings’ growth
Fear not when truth speaks, for a lie stings evermore
Dispense not haughtiness, when arrogance you abhor
Pretend not to be a giver, if motivation is to receive
Giving isn’t nobility if you deem receiver unworthy
Never teach others that which you don’t comprehend
Learn the ways of sage, inspire hate to seek amends
Judge, only if, you let others adjudicate your deeds
Be cognizant of desires spuriously posing as needs
Engage with humility when your ego dares to speak
Boast not in futility~ time will not bend to your will
Neither can you command a nightingale not to sing
Strive to embrace divinity, be a messenger of peace
Oh! soul, wander not~ search deep within to find it
January 4, 2022
In conversation with our soul poetry contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
SHE’s COMING AGAIN!
There’s a chill in the air
There’s a word on the street
Be afraid have a care
Put the children to sleep
She was gone, bells were tolled
But the body’s not cold
For she’s coming again
Yes she’s coming again
It was safe to suppose
She was due to be crowned
Then a young wizard rose
Had them all spellbound
With a look really cool
Like a kid from high school
But she came back again
Yes she came back again
Then she’d surely reside
In a white stately home
She’d the right, qualified
With two X chromosomes
She’d be in with a song
What could ever go wrong
She was coming again
She was coming again
But an old wizard now
With a strange style of hair
Took the stage took a bow
And with her almost there
She was pipped at the post
Cross the states, coast to coast
She was numbing again
And succumbing again
Without power came the crash
Sans connections she’d plied
Then the flow of the cash
Disappeared, nearly dried
So she needs to dispense
With some new influence
So she’s coming again
Yes she’s coming again
Feel the chill in the air
Hear the word on the street
Be afraid have a care
Put the children to sleep
So you thought she’d depart
With a stake through the heart
No she’s coming again
Yes she’s coming again
6 August 2018
Free verse Rhyme
Never fearing.. as love is nearing
Love's consciousness force... completes it’s divorce...(Jer. 3:8) Metaphorically Love divorces
From the mind of strife... that cuts as a knife mind's strife, or wickedness.
Resurrects our life... from sacrifice
As Cosmic’s love... has constant net.........................................(Malachi 3:6)(Hebrews 13:8)
Let not..the little hearts fret
Comes... as humanity’s mind sets
As the Cosmos....to humanity lets
As the mind of scarcity... the wealthy loses disparity
A new mind set...within the poor will let..
In... the life of the lamb’s net
A new logic... in earth will be set
A new diverse, of unlimited disperse
As constant Love..begins it’s gov.
The mind of Christ...from sacrifice
Will dispense with vice...with universe disperse
Meet your maker..not a soul breaker, Love's higher fate
As humanity levitates..to the higher state
Love’s consciousness brings..new responsiveness
Two thousand twelve..well..new light..flies a new kite
As the winter of flight..brings a new might
In a Godly project..`T is by a new logic
All will come into view..with a golden hue
For God is not new..He’s the love that’s in you!!!
Note: Iam not talking about the so called physical rapture,
but an enlightment of human consciousness, by love's
higher logic!
11-13-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
I pray a bright star will shine in the air
O'er Washington to guide some wise men there
Bringing gifts of commonsense
And harmony to dispense
To a nation that is in disrepair
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine, street wise scholars.
Conkers,* glass alleys* and comics as well,
bow and arrows, gat* to ring the school bell.
Electric tram, trolley bus and steam train
holidays in Blackpool, not yet in Spain.
Left over stew, dripping dispersed on bread,
a choice of marg or jam, not both was spread.
Roly-poly pud with custard, oh yes
school dinners, oh the ridicule the stress.
Journey in to space radio drama,
while bathing in a tin bath pure karma.
Medicals at school and nit nurses too
combing for the eggs, washing with shampoo.
No drugs, only cigs in small packs of five,
fifty fifty dance halls, old and new thrive.
Outside loo, oh them freezing winter nights
oil lamps, a candle to enhance one’s lights.
High street fish and chip shop charging nine pence,
potato crisps, tab* of salt to dispense.
Tanners,* hape’ny’s* and those threp’ny* bits,
meccano sets, clockwork trains came in kits.
Motorbikes, British pride on just two wheels,
Triumph, BSA, a nation reveals.
Alas long gone these balmy days of laze,
happy to have played a part in this phase!
*Quid:::: A one pound note (UK)
*Conkers:;;; Game played with the fruit of the horse chest nut tree.
*Glass Alleys::::: A type of Marble for the game of marbles.
*Gat::::: A catapult, or slingshot..
*Tab::: One brand of crisps in the UK, place a small blue pack of salt in each packet
*Tanners:::: A sixpenny coin
*Hape’ny’s::: A halfpenny coin
*Threp’ny bit::::: A Threepenny 12 sided coin, also called Thrupence depending where one resided in the North of England
.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
This garden city
Concrete skyscrapers loom;
Greenery punctuate
Tree-lined avenues
Bourgainvillea clusters;
Traffic jam companions
Waltzing slowly
Overhead bridge;
Ant-people below
Old neighbourhood
Heartland community;
Ageing populace
Feeble old lady
Speeds on wheels;
Electric commotion
Playground
For small kids and big;
Noisy charades
Fitness park
For young and old;
Fighting spirit
City side walk cafe
Crowded after hours;
Beery happy hours
Noticeable absence
Dry spell ending;
Sudden torrential rain
Umbrellas raised,
Parasols hoisted;
Too late this drenching
Side walk cobbler
New lease for old shoes;
Assorted wears
Hyper art queue
Long-winded delay;
Fussy customer
Bank ATM await
Ready to dispense;
Urgent pocket money
Office podium
By shopping mall;
Buzz of human traffic
Downtown hype
Temptations galore;
Mostly unnecessary
Leon Enriquez
23 Apr 2014
Singapore
I rose not like flower or like tree
Not like eagle's hubris in the sun
Old skin shed in the divided city
Last clone of a manhood almost done
And so I tasted the salt that lingered in blood
When the sea was pushed to the edge
And the land was wet and squirming in mud
I was in the litter of its self-knowledge
I know my city better now, where met
The passions of my birth, life is beautiful
But shallow here, much to regret and forget
But I will exhume me from the bountiful
Shallowness and litter, I will my heart
To the silent stars and write my life
In words of truth. Montego Bay, let me start
In you, the doldrums where the fear was rife.
It was not the wind, but the fire that sent
My mother descending through smoke of tears
Along the pavement hard without lament
And her three children pined at crowded stairs
My brother was swallowed by the city's mire
My sister's drug was her desire, she called
Eight from her flesh to mother's feast of prayer
Thank you God for your mercies that enthralled
That's context now, while I bleat my life
From the ghetto's battlefield to stable and school
Something provoked my hunger and strife
Something led like a pen along the edge of a rule
For I have smelled the cordite fumes of death
And the magic scent of ganja on slum night air
I from school have fled and gasped for breath
Along a street where splintered blood appeared
So I dispense this news for you struggling child
Wriggling sand to walk out of my burning shoes
Soon I shall strip away the mask pile by pile
Promise you will dance, dance slowly to my blues
I give you more than wax feathers for the sun
For old Sisyphus by labor endless was worn down
And did not see the rise sinking to the run
In each man's failure another man's victory abound.
I'm glad to be a tree, but never a maple would I be
for in the months of Fall, my russet leaves would plea
for help when northerly winds blow them all away
I couldn't save them as they sway, clinging to me
I am tall but not as sturdy or majesctic as an oak
Providing shade is fine, but not for those who smoke
I'd be at the mercy of lovers, carving deep in my trunk
No, I'd not be an oak that people gouge, cut and poke
I would consider being a loblolly pine; an evergreen
where birds can nest and perch to groom and preen
Needles never shedding; my branches never laid bare
Blanketed with snow, in a setting tranquil and serene
Maybe I would be happy as a magnolia near a fence
Uprooted as a sapling, once living in a forest, dense
where my sweet blossoms attracted many honey bees
before becoming pods, red with seeds that I dispense
I like my life here beside a stream, content to be a willow
with lush green grass beneath me, used as a soft pillow
my leaves rain like tears, but new ones return in Spring
In sadness I will dwell until then. I am a weeping willow
January 28, 2021
If I Were A ? Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose ~ If I were a tree...
A bird in hand is worth two in the woods
Teaches us to take care not to be greedy
In the air, quite very easy to build castles
The water and the image are not a reality.
The image of sky and pool, even the wood
This material world is, philosophically, illusion.
We know the way to create imaginary world
We humans can not dispense with illusion.
Now slowly taking the hands apart or aside
The water, the image will disappear soon
It was just an illusion in one’s mind created
We live immersed in dreams and illusion.
“We are stuff as dreams are made on and
Our little life is, with a sleep, surrounded”*
============================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest : Pick a line any line
6th place win
This sonnet was written earlier by me (The Universe is Maya "Illusion") but
I revised and changed the title of the poem)
*A quote from William Shakespeare
* Maya means illusion in Indian languages.
============================
Halloween: Safety First Then Fun!!!
By the Poets Listed After the Poem
Happy day getting candy treats while dressed like spooks and goblins.
Angels, genies, princesses, too, put “loot” in their bags and tins.
Look both ways when you cross the street. Always stay close to your friends.
Lighted homes. Festive decorations. Porches. Pumpkins. Invite!
Oh, be leery of the dark, where ghosts and spooks stay out of site.
Wear bright costumes that reflect at night! Not lose or tight. Just right!
Every child must be aware that some goblins inhabit homes.
Each year we hear of razor blades placed in a child’s candied cones.
Never!!! Ever!!! Eat your treats 'til Mom says, “OK, little gnomes.”
Stay safe! Look around! While you walk, beware of witches and bats.
Always, ghosts and goblins watch. Looking out for sweet treats you drop.
Fear? If they happen to appear parents, quickly call the cops!
Enjoy laughter, hot chocolate, and other treats with your friends.
Take care not to play tricks that could hurt others or cause offense.
Youngsters, polite and respectful, great delight they do dispense.
Fun you will have! Enjoyment too. Be sure that you are careful!
In all situations, “Trick-or-Treaters” beware! Need HELP? Shout!!!
Remember say, “Thank you” for treats when you’re out and about.
Stay clear of Spooky Soupers as they write with their crazy pens.
To write in verse, some witches curse. And drive sanity ‘round bends.
The madness, “Dearie,” is very clear; they strive to make amends.
Hooting owls and wild black cats wildly eat from your mum's pumpkin
Eerily, creaky zombies leave their tombs and walk down your streets.
Night, bubbling soups, you must beware, might be made of your own feet--
Frantic frenzies and fabulous fun begins just before dark.
Under that moonlit chilling night, “Trick- or-Treaters,” find their mark.
Nearby neighbors anticipate. Waiting with treats is a lark!
Contributing Poets in Alphabetical Order: Charmaine Chircop, Carolyn Devonshire , James
Frazer, Rhoda Galgiani, Sean Kelly, Karen O'Leary, Patricia Prescott, Dane SmithJohnsen
Demonically Dispossessed
...man has the ability to express great love,
and dispense great evil...
The legions of darkness descend as they beastly bewilder and offend
The serpents of Babylon attend as their ecumenical evil does extend
In a pandemonium plunge with pernicious pains and succulent sponge
With tenacious tongues they lunge and fast fade away as they expunge
~~~
In their fallacious faculties fermenting feces frolicking the wasteland
Demonic disciples preach profanities before the sanguineous sand
As they efficiently eviscerate exigently under their hellion command
For they are curious to castrate the condemned as their cries demand
~~~
Within their taunting tantalize as hearts bleed amidst the scarlet skies
Their goal the soul to compromise and for love to cripple and capsize
In a vortex venomous vile blasphemous broods of a damnation defile
For we must battle the bile as warriors of light with a sagacious smile.
Music by Slipknot-'The devil in I'
June.28.2018
Eight word challenge-7
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Placed 2'nd
Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”
Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…
I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
DOING GOOD
“Tired am I”,
You told me the other day my friend,
“for many good deeds have I been doing for so long
but
recognition for my contribution haven’t I received
any, why?”
Here is my reply to you, gentle friend of mine
Written with the tenderness your kind heart has come
So well to know,
Tell me:
Does the sun care to be appreciated for the affection it
Embraces the earth
Or
For the caresses its rays so abundantly dispense to
Each mountaintop?
Does the cloud request a reward for the load it carries
In its bosom
Or
For the drops of rain that so kindly bestows onto the
Arid ground?
Does the earth seek payment from the seed when into
Its soil planted
Or
For the fruits the trees so bigheartedly distribute, rebellious
Stomachs to appease?
Does the bee demand compensated to be for pollinating
The flowers
Or
For producing its divine honey that even the immortals so
Much enjoy?
Does the wind ever insist on any fee when through the
Leaves whispers
Or
For when the murmur of brooks and the melody of singing
Birds transmitting?
Shouldn’t we, my loving friend, inspired by nature’s unselfish
Examples be
And
Share our soul’s wealth, expecting nothing in return, from our
Fellow humans?
And finally
Is there anything we could ever think, nobler and holier to be, than
Lord’s will, we to be doing?
© Demetrios Trifiatis
11 NOVEMBER 2013
Trump Has His Supporters
What are they saying about the Trumpster
What he did was discovered in a dumpster
And we have also heard some others say
Lives there and likes throwing things away.
What other great ideas did Donald dispense?
Of course, none of them had made any sense
At all every time and we have also heard
What he said as usual was completely absurd.
Had heard much clatter preceded by clitter
Looked in dumbster and there saw all the liter
That Trumpster was saving for a rainy day
From bottom to top which was all on display.
After all of his hind end roaring what resulted
Everyone again had horribly been insulted
Provoked us when he was acting like a clown
So that to voters level could bring things down.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet