Best Domains Poems
Images of children dwelling in developing world
In plight of poverty~~ some two billion strong,
Fly a flag of existence, waving distress unfurled,
Crooning mournful song: is this where we belong?
Struggling in parched lands of bared dreary sights
World they live in is the world they have known,
Where days of emptiness cede to dreary nights
Churning nightmares as dreams vacant bemoan.
Wishing upon an angel~ I would endeavor to plead
For turning places despaired into domains of hope,
For means to educate, learn skills, write and read,
For rewriting will of destiny, while striving to cope.
If I could bend sorrow and the fate of tomorrow
Seeds of knowledge I’ll sow in the dreaded woe
Marveling the fields of wisdom sprout and grow
As minds edified glow, defying misery’s shadow.
My wish for peace echoes benevolence spurred
As hymns of unity in the temple of goodwill toll
And calls of equity from endearing hearts heard
Reverberate harmony in euphony of sublime soul.
I wish upon a candle, for world to join a sing-along
Lauding pledges of love to spur the youth on and on
Cheering to acclaim: this is where the kids belong~
In benevolence of hearts, over seven billion strong.
June 13, 2022
Placed 1st: If Only My Wish Would Come True Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
In realm of love, you are the awe of mystique~
Musings of smitten soul, passions bespeak,
When glances romantic lure enamored night
To dance of fantasies moonlit revelries ignite
Waltzing with stars scintillating opaline skies,
As smiles endearing emanate from your eyes
Beaming missives esoteric, vying to explore,
Secrets of heartbeats extolling echoes of yore,
Adulating present as tomorrow’s dream soar
To domains heavenly, croons of love implore,
Infatuated by aroma your redolent vibes impart,
Abloom in elixir of the rose inside my heart.
March 26, 2023
Poem of the day on March 27, 2023
Placed 1st: The Rose Inside My Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
The Goddess Of Blessed Redemption
She gave me a foundation of love's pleasures
complete with wondrous bountiful measures
she a gentle goddess of golden hues,
swept this heart away, vanquished all its blues.
From a verdant forest spring she arrived
relieving me of life sadly contrived.
None other could love and give any more,
she a goddess sent from paradise shore.
When asked why she came to me to now bless
no words came, my sins too sad to confess.
Yet her Light and Grace healed this broken soul
for this world had taken its heavy toll.
Of Asclepius* blood, healing her art,
body, soul and mind, first target the heart,
faithful daughter, resplendent her warm glow
sent to heal and allow this soul to grow.
She freed my body from its scars and burns
from ghosts of past buried in hidden urns,
the mind confused by treachery and lies
and the soul ready to face its demise.
Her enchanted charm revived my delight
to view the world in a generous light,
for the mind to stand firm, no longer wilt,
with redemption free the burden of guilt.
Once a broken man, forsaken lost soul,
I now stand stoutly with a heart that’s whole.
With Apollo’s blood vibrant are my veins,
by lease of life, released from morbid chains.
Verve restored by Aceso’s healing might
with radiance to end my sorry plight.
Healed with love in atonement of past crimes
with kindness I share life’s eternal chimes.
Collaboration by Robert J. Lindley and Teppo Gren
7-05-2018
(1.) Asclepius*, see note above..
(2.) Aceso’s , ( Aceso (the goddess of the healing process )
(3.)Apollo- Greek Mythology -
Apollo was one of the most versatile of the Greek gods. His domains extended from poetry and music, to light and truth, and archery.
His mother was the Titan Leto, whose tryst with Zeus angered Hera. The Queen of the Gods tormented Leto, sending the monster Python to chase her across the whole world so she could find no safe space to bear her children. However, Leto found safe haven on the isle of Delos and gave birth to Artemis and then Apollo.
*****
Note- With deep gratitude I present this collaboration written with my good friend Teppo Gren. A wonderful friend and truly amazing poet. A sonnet master that awes me with every poem he posts..
Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.
The ruling lot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
“The gypsies’ soul, I can’t control, my patience wears and wanes;
they will not cede to common greed, which conquers far domains
and furtive spies and news that lies have barely baked their brains.
“But in the court of last resort the final fix remains:
in boxcar bins with violins we’ll freight them out in trains
(should one ask why, a quick reply: ‘It’s that which God ordains!’),
and in the bogs, they’ll die like dogs, and everybody gains.”
As the holy season commemorates revelations of scriptures,
Sacred flame burning within, reinvigorates soul’s intellect,
Steering away from the fallible, toward realms of perfect,
Away from servitude of wealth, to caring for less-fortunate;
Empowering wisdom, vying sapience of enlightenment,
Inspiring collaboration in sanctity of spiritual exchange,
Rejecting overtures nescient, engaged in narrowness,
That confine humanity in fallacies unwitting, misguided.
In domains of self-reflection, repentance, and forgiveness,
Voice of indifference cedes to psalms compassionate,
As defective acts vow to mend ways, yearning for flawless;
Remorseful and empathetic, eying benevolence of solace.
From teachings of awakening, from sagacity of harmony,
Cognitive minds seek insights, transcendent in epiphany,
Propelling life toward enrichment in peace and congruity,
Vying spheres beyond the ordinary, edified in tranquility.
From sanctum of souls, depths of hearts, bells-pious chime,
Tolling expressions of kindness, echoing prayers sublime,
Celebrating precious gift of life, grateful for glory of divine,
As lanterns ethereal guide humanity, through reign of time.
Inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension,
of myth and legend as Yaguara,
or "Death in one leap" the sleek frame, Jaguar
as if it's from another dimension.
Leopards bit spotty, but Jaguars take
a rosette form, tell-tale signs like water
that natures them. As a jungle squatter,
prey, and time of hunt, don't discriminate
their mettle. Domains--mine alone; moms play
dads too, tongues play teeth too, cubs play adult
as hunt molds age. Overcast shades result
in a Black Panther coexist display.
Imperil: human expansion collide,
... imagine our continental divide.
Among the long grass of the land and reed,
there is a lonely place where thoughts are freed,
Saint Martin's summer spreads upon the lake
in warm conditions all domains partake.
The blazing, orange skies, on earth reflect
perfection's lingering details connect
a red, still hanging leaf has caught my gaze
spotlighted in the sun's last golden rays.
This leaf, upon the branch, began to wave,
(it's ending, little life I could not save),
and swept away by Autumn's windy rake,
imprinted ripples on the peaceful lake.
The leaf was carried, as my eyes complied,
then drowned inside the lake's blue waves that shied,
the sweeping northern gust, the leaf discerped,
that neath the surface is forever kept.
Written by Kelly Deschler September 19th, 2014
Revised by Giorgio A. V.
On a dark Friday night, creature crawling
The darkness silenced, frogs in swamps shuts
Croaking and the hissing create muted at once
To perceive the whistlers whistling in turns
PaMushika-shika, To board home, Combies
After being dropped off by the combi Pahasha
I opted for a quick thriving by the darks, Ana
Sisi Pamumvuri. A quick one to say, quench
My absurd sexual appetites, lips left so dried...
Two steps forth, leaking my white rimmed lips
A bite too, appreciating a sultry maze in front
Never did I thought of my ED condition. Oh
Had long forgotten about understanding my ed
And his symptoms, Ed and my lifestyle as well
His common causes I had drawn a blank eye.
A short skirts fitting her slendern torso, as of
My utterance she became the defined beauties
Of the night, Eh... so eloquent alike Mugabe's
Speech in Native language, mocking the chaps
Whom taught him of vowels a e i o u. A ei ou
Quick to react, she gets to talk business as of
Her routine, A five dollar note for short time
Not a bad fortune for her well decorated torso
In her dark room I found myself in, undressing
And her radio, powered on spelling the melting pot
It spelt of the misfortunes of the domains vividly
How we queue in long impetuous lines to refill
How the price hiking and shelves emptying wry
How the bond note manifest into bondage, more...
And more dilemmas spat by the voice in her radio.
The heraldings left me a quagmire, I was stunned
In a state of confusion and conflicts, I was naked
So rinsed were my thoughts of independence awry
And to her nakedness I found not any pleasure more
An ED to her rescue, Victims of circumstances
Never did I thought of stress to lead me an ED
Depression, anxiety, and alcohol often trigger it.
In this case maybe my physical factor of diabetes,
My kidney disease and blood vessel diseases been the culprit.
An Erectile dysfunction to her rescue. Victims of ED.
In splendor of meadows gentle winds blow
As traversing high-low mighty rivers flow
And sun never sets as blue skies ever glow--
Seasons bloom there, ample crops grow
And peaceful are domains where birds roam
Devoid of trepidation from famine or foe.
Frolic in playgrounds where children laugh,
Grown-ups always walk tranquil serene paths,
Intellect prevails as wisdom outlaws wars
And across oceans extend gallant helping hands
As enduring love fuels brotherhood at large.
Divine is fortitude of eight billion strong
From all faiths, colors, cultural backgrounds
Striving in unison for solemn human cause:
To rid of what divides--seek common ground.
We trade, we innovate, we build, we believe
We share, we live, let every nation be
We learn, we educate, respect one another
We argue, we listen, and confer with honor--
Such is global paradigm of model new world.
August 12, 2019
Placed 1st: Choose your own title, vol. 7-songs
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh; Song: I believe-Era
Autumn's song kindles the flame
To set the leaves ablaze
Crimson glows and golden hues acclaim
The fervor that burns with autumn days
It meanders to other domains
And lights the forest with beautiful refrains
A rhapsody of colors moves on high
As fire opal tints imbue the sky
The scene satisfies the soul's desire
Showing off the splendor of autumn's fire
~-~
10/22/16
I awake with the question "Am I like my predecessor?"
Automated and fabricated to slave for the oppressor
I join the procession yet I am an orbate transgressor
Dissipated and attenuated with no clear successor
Then I drift into much more lofty domains
With greater rewards yet more precarious terrain
A place where answers can not quite be explained
Where the mind is confounded but the spirit ascertains
Then I shower and shave; I sigh and greet the day
Will it be my chagrin or triumph I put on display?
In my head I have a tempest, in my heart a bouquet
I must choose which one to portray, which one to obey
Of course, art is always somewhat
subjective, breaking established rules: the artist
intuitively adding imaginary inches to a canvas;
a work in progress, riding waves, finding depth
both on and off the easel, creatively flowing – a
vision on the loose –
(paused, but never finished...a true birth
having voice and life beyond the parent's release,
like a child going out into the world alone...
a must, for the painter to keep fluid a moistening eye:
that mysterious exorcism by his instruments...a true descriptor
ultimately not bound by the Catechism of Lines nor a Page's
World-edges;
no mural out of the soul, seeking spectacular release
is ever entirely confined to interior walls nor the sides of buildings~
that is why certain poems are read over and over, as if catching up
with an old friend~filled-in on what is new, an evolutionary rapport...
or one revisits The Museum of Modern Art – finding aged modern
in the old modern, the past meeting perhaps a cloudy moment and
today a day of awakening transparency – each vintage, an individualized
spirit-manifest,
a motivating shade of scentful-color~of brightness and overcast,
with searchable, unseen dimensions, the spaces science
has yet to fill,
the private domains of both
experimenting student and seasoned mystic...
the limits of what we
know, transformed by the revelation of what we dream,
the artist, and not the scientist, life's true conjurer of miracles,
only bound, when at all, by his own restricted conceptions of
time transforming space.
Dice, the goddess of morals, asked her mother, Themis
Why there's divorce, gambling, abortion, and alcoholism?
Why should dehumanization, like a Bloodstone, beamish?
Why should knives of nemesis nip the knots of neutralism?
Cores of conscience, like collapsed castles, Themis said, crash
The self within the inner sanctum, like sand grains, is split.
Joy, peace, harmony, happiness, and self-fulfillment clash
Empathy and sympathy submit to apathy's conflict.
Demons in humans delicately dominate their domains.
As though white sheep amongst black cattle, they cudgel their brains.
Their will to do good, like delinquent house dogs, is in chains.
Blood of cutthroat competitions, to win, flows in their veins.
Honesty should guide one and all, Themis said to Dice.
Summit of self-splendidness alone will never suffice.
do you dress with shapeshifting dreams,
when the blanket of eyes unfolds
reeling... a realm of myriad realism ~
in echoes from elements of delusive domains?
there's a veil so thin, enlightened between ~
t r u t h and l i e ... f i r e and a s h ,
and must you lose your eloquent elixir
to inhale their dusty deceptions?
when we only need to choose not to conform,
and resolve to realise that every lifeline
is a palpitating paradox in this musical mosaic ,
~ of possibilities and promised uncertainties ...
life is what is faithfully lived ~
through a lavender lens made for not two,
but one, unseen in the metaphysical ~
yet felt closely in the inner sanctum,
resting within the runes of the lotus chakra
and bridging the balance between
the bleak blankness breathing in space ~
where memories flow distant
in the marrow of astral mantras ...
as everything fades from this funeral flame
I will not be lost, but found... a homesick soul,
the searcher of silence, that sleeps within
the spirit of the One, my divine sculptor ~
in his purified prayers, desires lose their form,
when the seventh heaven rehearses
a ray of selfless spiritualism amongst the stars
syncing salvation as a rhythm ~ a crystal pulse,
flickering through the illusion of solidity ...
ignorance as well as knowing
but pertains to realms and domains
instead if we just keep flowing
our formless presence wears no chains
with this mantra held in focus
lower mind instrumentalised
breeze of bliss our favoured locus
hum of silence is realised