Best Edifices Poems
Majestic cathedrals are erected for the worship of God,
Featuring towering spires and ostentatious facade.
Grand organs acclaim ancient hymns with clarion flourish.
Melodious choirs sing hosannas, languid souls to nourish!
Most congregants worship in less pretentious surrounds,
But the same generous blessings from above abounds.
It matters not the size of the building or its congregation.
The people are the church worshipping with joyous celebration!
Upon distant fields of frightful martial campaign,
And upon naval vessels plodding the roiling main,
Dedicated chaplains in simple settings minister to their fold,
Proclaiming just as effectively the cogent message of old!
Whether it be mosque, synagogue, cathedral or canvas tent,
And whatever the religion or creed may be the people's bent,
One thing they have in common and it will be clearly evident,
They all witness the presence of their God ever omnipotent!
Perhaps in lieu of building mighty edifices prone to decay,
Bridges of understanding could be built to keep prejudices at bay,
Drawing diverse peoples together for a common good,
Fostering charity, fellowship and world-wide brotherhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
edifices, faith, prejudice,
Form:
Rhyme
In a millions ways, oh life,
You have emphatically declared to me
That
A mortal being I am
But
I, stubbornly, defied your declaration
Thus
Many highways of hope I have built
And
Many edifices of dreams have I put up
During
My passing through your planes of
Existence, as if I were immortal,
Although my heart
Its
Mortality, had from the start,
Embraced!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
23 December 2015
Categories:
edifices, dream, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
In millions of ways, oh life,
You have, emphatically, declared to me
That
A mortal being I was
But
I, stubbornly, defied your declaration
Thus
Many highways of hope did I build
And
Many edifices of dreams have I erected
During
My passing through your planes of existence
As if I were immortal,
Although
My heart, its mortal nature, knew very well
From the beginning!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
16 September 2021
Categories:
edifices, dream, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
I accuse
Bankers who compulsively their creditors lure
Bid them colossal loans and obscure
To erect fantasies and a castle in Spain forge
Later arise manacled with a dolor mortgage
Employees who secretly squeeze through
Evacuate their jobs unattended and eschew
Occupy hours galore in cafés gossiping
With prolonged queues jilted lingering
Doctors who diagnose organic diseases
Shirk fragile,grief-stricken souls
Administer drugs to accrue vulnerability
Burden their expenses and nurture insanity
Entrepreneurs who hatch gigantic edifices
Reap colossal sums of almighty dollars
Abjure to construct a hovel for the beggary
To harbor their rat-infested despondency
Yet could medication be of any use
To what a whole epoch has abused ?
Abdelwaheb Dhaou.
Categories:
edifices, abuse, drug,
Form:
Rhyme
On the edge of metropolitan midnight
he lays in a breathless silence
rasping the evanescing yesterdays to his windows
both open and locked,
while the unknowing below in stale smoke barrooms,
wait to sear his wounds and retell his life
in putrefied requiem.
Abashed metropolis
echoing of muted voices once adorning the streets
in practiced synthetic ritual,
the vile awash and seeping through asphalt cracks,
the scent of rot, old and new, smattered on old brick edifices
silences the ascending smoke plumes
belched from and within dirtied concrete towers,
the final endeavor from within a dying mans spirit
reaching out to no one
City’s voice wails from the antechamber in darkness
anxieties fracturing the panes amongst the downtown fire
of urban panic
lucidity congealing away within him, kept only in the moment
by metronome dripped medicine
exposing him to his damp streets, dirtied culverts, sewer ditches
chemically induced and maintained.
Fighting for his identity within this sterilized chaos,
whispering for the few of open mind somewhere below the window sill,
quicky stepping onward, over his newsprint life,
calling out one last time
There he lays in cold white sterility,
calling silently to his windows, both opened and locked,
watching his stories catch and fade in the dull humid streetlight
wisped away on steam grate stale winds,
the dying soul, eyes closed, his aged lined face
muddied, scraped, and walked over,
through the grime of progression left on sullied pavement.
Categories:
edifices, death, loss, mystery, philosophyold,
Form:
Free verse
We erected sandcastles on the seashore.
I designed them and you painstakingly formed them
into edifices, complete with turrets, flags, and moats.
We even won the contest for the most authentic.
Now the only castles we build are in our imaginations.
You don’t even recognize your queen anymore, and I
am sad at the ravages that Alzheimers has afflicted my king.
Oh, to be young again, sit at sunset and watch the tide
sweep away our castles, slowly and gently.
Perhaps we can sit on the balcony tonight and hold hands.
This may be the day you once more call me queen.
Categories:
edifices, age, caregiving, emotions, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
One stands utterly still
in darkness only lit
by a full moon obscured by
eerie clouds, drifting
slowly across the moon’s path.
Nothing moves, not even a
gentle breeze exists in
this place that has been
painted black.
Sound does not enter one’s
ears; quiet has overcome its
presence, it makes one feel
deafened by silence.
Still one stands motionless awaiting
that sudden sound created by
human presence.
One awaits hidden in the gloomy
shadows created by edifices
created by man to provide
safety; how wrong they were.
Something moves making the
gravelled paths crunch like
breaking bones.
Their heart beats loudly,
their veins protrude
teasing one to strike but
one must wait,
one must not be too hasty
or all will be revealed at
the wrong moment; timing is
vital.
The sound steadily grows louder;
the creature is in the vicinity
of my presence, the smell of its
blood is potent enticing one to
lust its precious gift of life
that flows through its body.
It passes the edifice that
creates the shadows one is
hidden in; one has stricken
without warning.
Blood pours in to one’s mouth
through the harsh wound now
upon the creature’s neck, it
warms one’s dead heart making
it beat only for moments.
The creature squirms endlessly;
pointless and futile,
it becomes sluggish and grey,
one stops and pauses; the
creature dropped with a
heavy thump, it was a man.
One breathes heavily; blood drips
sinisterly down on to one’s chin whilst
peering at the now dead
man lying on the ground
in a twisted way; its
bones snapped and protruding
through raw muscle.
One has killed, stolen
innocence and still the
blood lust grows, like
perverted roots that
never stop expanding
deeper in to earth;
that is where one truly
belongs, buried beneath,
trapped, alone and with
nothing but hunger for all eternity.
Categories:
edifices, fantasyheart, sound, heart, sound,
Form:
Free verse
Mountains with vibrant floras
Led down to fruit laden orchards
In the verdant vales below.
I heard her then, a syrupy song
Of tender love and feats of old.
I stood beneath an apple tree
As her song wafted on the breeze,
Sliding in and around the fruit trees,
Scattering aromatic fragrance around.
Serendipitously I came onto a small farm.
A small river wended its tortuous way.
A small bridge took me to several patches
Where vegetation grew. I could live there forever.
All around I enjoyed the serenity
That I had craved for but rarely found.
Swiftly night descended as the moon
Rose from beyond the low hills.
How I enjoyed the evening farm food
Where I was invited and then
A good night sleep in their spare bedroom.
But morn came, and grudgingly had to leave.
Back into the heart of the city,
Large edifices, black with age.
Everywhere the smell of stale food, burning oil,
And a hint of smoked marijuana.
O to be rich and escape forever
To my lovely vale, now so far away.
Categories:
edifices, appreciation, city, endurance, green,
Form:
Free verse
So many roses I saw today
On the same bed they all lay.
With roses I will dream tonight,
Pink, red, yellow and white…
If a single rose I free and smell
The garden will frenzy and yell,
I aspire to be like a bumblebee:
Invisible wings to nestle and flee.
The breeze carried a whiff adrift
Dancing within the edifices rift
On my chest I pinned four medals
Pink, red, yellow and white petals:
A single rose can guild me to Eden
Or linger on Nature’s bosom hidden
Categories:
edifices, flower, love, rose,
Form:
Sonnet
Who am I?
I mull over my identity…
And I ponder
Each one of us in this society,
Belongs to a ‘religion’…
To a set or a group,
And each set of people
Have their ‘rules of conduct’
Have own customs, laws and legislations,
I feel I am a misfit,
As I don’t belong to any of these groups,
Though I was born to a Christian family,
When I was baptized,
I did not even know what baptism means?
Yet I got the tag of being a ‘Christian’
Weird, weird world
Who is right? Who is wrong?
What is true? What is false?
Who defines it?
Human beings after all!!!
Here each set of people,
Have a name for their God,
Some say Jesus,
Some say Allah,
Some say Ram,
Some say Laxmi,
Some say Ganapathi,
Some say Krishna,
Some say Kali,
And the list goes on,
It is hard to assign an image of God,
Comes in all shapes, sizes & forms,
In all genders,
Be it male or female,
With fascinating fables,
Surrounding God,
Aren’t all these characters?
Who people worship?
Created by man?
Weird, weird world
We have built churches, mosques, temples, synagogues
And other places of worships,
As our God’s abode…
But have we ever thought,
God created this whole universe,
The creator need not dwell
In these concrete man-made edifices,
He is there within you and me,
Why search for him in these structures,
Weird, weird world
Religion divides humanity,
Into chunks,
Adds to the anarchy,
Creates boundaries and conflicts,
Among humans,
That only love can conquer,
So many lives have been lost,
In this struggle for supremacy,
Across centuries,
Yet humans fail to understand…
Weird, weird world…
Wish if things could change,
And people could realize the worth of life…
Categories:
edifices, religion, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Deep below the ocean's surface volcanic vents do spew,
Fumes of pressurized oxygen with their bubbly molten brew.
Down where the water's pressure is denser than that of air,
The lava's effervescent bubbles form an atmospheric lair.
There lives within these domes of air a group of simple people,
Who've built a social structure, igneous edifices and coral steeples.
As mammals, they share the very brain within our own dense heads,
But they've learned to use it in ways we've never dreamt of nor read.
Here above the surface we use our bodies to produce economy,
Blinded by bills and schemes of capital with very little autonomy.
Unbound by bonds of profit and wealth, the people who dwell below in the bubbles,
Can feel and read each others' thoughts, keeping them in love and out of trouble.
To eat, they can summon and stun the fish that swim outside their atmosphere,
With a simple thought which emits a pulsing wave which their minds can hear.
Beyond meeting their needs for sustenance and nutrients,
They spend their remaining time playing with their compatriots.
The games they play are aimed to grow their minds that give them health,
And laugh with friends, for humor and happiness are what they consider wealth.
They have one law: the Golden Rule, which is to love all with pure imprudence,
Which is neither governed by politics nor policed by the failure of jurisprudence.
Unlike the surface dwellers above that they have become psychically aware of,
They have no distant sun to worship but volcanic light that they've grown to love.
For they make no assumptions of origins and live to learn not claim,
Reasons for light to embolden the masses with fear when darkness came.
One day these people wholeheartedly hope that their bubbles will rise to meet,
The people above who live in duplicitous splendor rather than in simplicity of unity.
Categories:
edifices, earth, life, love, ocean,
Form:
Couplet
Did you see her? I guess you didn't.
Since then, she never went out again. She hid all herself for years inside those tall apartments and buildings. She walked through strap-like hallways and crawled under low surfaced ceilings. She used to be inside since then. She concealed her melancholiness and never gave the world a chance to see her once more. She was an outside person actually, but not anymore.
I just lately learned all of these about her. I searched for all the streets in London and Paris, but never found a hint of her. Not knowing she's immured behind those thick walls of concrete edifices.
Now, I cautiously observe every single window of an apartment, building, and skyscraper. I keep an eye on every single windowpane, hoping one day you'll cabbage the curtains and take a glance. Lucky enough if you'll open the glass that separates you from me. Luckier if you'll dare to open a door, and let the world to see your face we missed the most.
Categories:
edifices, emotions, feelings, for her,
Form:
Prose
Far from the madding crowd
I treasure the myths you gone through
Once I walk down the streets of legends
Even the weeping dusts reminds me of
Bloods, who immolated their lives to you.
Oh Calcutta! You live with a pride
For ages you are loved
They valued glory above life itself
When they speak of valiance
And guns are still fired in the air
Withal due respect of those souls
Who deserved their nascence
In the realm of your freedom.
Oh Calcutta! You live with an honesty
Not because of the madding crowd
Because you are blessed with eternity
As she flows with her gentle ripples
That streams the ambit of almighty purity
When I voyage down the river
I breathe the air of immortality.
Far from the madding crowd
I travel down the busy streets of the city,
The antique edifices still provides me with
The evidence of such superiority,
Walls still fends against the political conspiracy.
Oh Calcutta! You live with prosperity
Though affected by the madding political crowd
Once you were ruled by the dwellers
Now your sanity being destroyed immensely
By your own posterity
Living in the land of divinity
Of goddesses Durga and Kali
And they still feigned that they are native.
Oh Calcutta! You live with heritages
Not beacuse of the busy primal edifices
But you have the world known aged cantilever bridge
And over a century living the tramways.
Your marbles are still gloried by the dwellers
And they still wonder the hand pulled rickshaws
And admire for the age old alleys.
Far from the madding crowd
I still come across the pavements by the busy roads
Coins dropping with bimetallic sounds in the beggar's bowl
The vendors hallooing with prices on a rhythmical prose
And as I step ahead, I find my foot stuck in the crud mid of the road.
Oh Calcutta! You still live with diversity
Not beacuse of the poor and rich
But you still have few people left helping you in needs
You still have one culture you were born with
Hindu-Muslims celebrating together both Id and Autumn fests
Joining their hands with the christians when December ends.
Oh Calcutta! You still live with your beauty
Not only beacuse you have the beautiful bengali adorned brides
But you still have the chapters of noetic minds
You still exist with love and peace
Only when I find you far from the madding crowded streets.
Categories:
edifices, dedication, nostalgia, people, urban,
Form:
Free verse
Revived to pop out as an empty nester
To accompany a newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis.
The heirloom edifices occupying moiety of acreage
Glossy crisscross roads and extended overpass
Spic-and-span subway and the rushy blue line coaches
Voguish three wheeled fares and snuggled DDA flats
Yet an open blue sky and extreme deuce climate.
The forenoon snarl – up and the crowded massed bus
The traffic and the driver’s clapper claw
The border red signal and the busy CP
College bunkers to gates of malls
Unitedly a fussy horologe.
Where educatees hitting lectures and employes cogitating
Schemers contriving at the parliament
Few couples could be sighted antithetic though
And rest chewing the fat.
Republic march at the red fort
And the day break Jama Masjid prayer,
Incised India Gate boswell and
The eventide light show at akshardham.
Elementses unidentified at Qutub Minar
And the muteness dwelled at the lotus temple,
Savaged kingdom at Tuglakabad
And exquisite ambiance of Humayun tomb,
Concisely a grand metropolis
Envied world-wide.
Revived to pop out as an empty nester
To accompany this newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis.
Categories:
edifices, places, social, urbanblue, change,
Form:
Imagism
Look at the moon and see tomorrow staring from beyond the wonder of this earth. Strive to see children whirl there unclothed
youthful forms to frame the meaning of their new lives
as open to the teaching of scholarly parents as to that of their teachers.
The cool breeze that blows through the early light is like the sunshine we feel
as summer’s warmth awaking the grass and the flowers that grow.
Here our minds are open to the miracles or the uncertainties of the world around us. Where the beauty of a single cloud floating across our sky is as marvelous to the eye
as anything we can ever imagine, just like the wisdom behind each word we speak.
Look at the mountains born out of a million years of our existence
as ice forms in the glacial structure of the kingdom called earth!
Imagine how torrid was the land of the dinosaurs
there mammoth edifices thundering across the plains and to their own manifest destiny. Or the sight as they fly with their wings over the land they lived
and how they all died off in the horrible cold to leave a peaceful world.
Unchained remains the structure of our earth
where fires burn on despite the blow of harsh winds…
despite the piercing roar from the crash of a louder thunder
or the lightning that feels ever closer as it gives mystery to the question, why!
Why do those words require no answer in a place where sympathy is found’
Where emotions remain in the miracle of life or the hopeless structure of death
And death is but an elusion
caught between the idea of life’s passage and the dreamt capacity of our lives.
The thought of a life that never ends remains forever in the mind
Until sunbeams flicker in the approach of darkness
And sounds of night are held forever in the solitude that we fear
In the words of our final good-bye
For now our times do swiftly change
And we are kept forever silent in the unknown thunder within
Like a mirror that reflects the mystery of tomorrow…
In the moment we look at ourselves
By m.norton
Categories:
edifices, inspiration, introspection,
Form:
Ballad