Best Efficacy Poems
I wish you knew the depth of knowledge gained
How instrumental are your thoughts to me
Through teaching what I’ve learned, I have been trained
To revel in my self-efficacy
Attention and retention play a part
To reproduce the model, I am keen
And motivation soars above the chart
When victory is felt and also seen
To read of you in books and realize
Your thoughts have left a mark that will abide
Like you to deepen learning is the prize,
I’m longing for, and I won’t be denied
Vicariously, I live within the realm
Where knowledge is a living entity
A place where greats like you stand at the helm
where life-long learning’s our identity
I had to pen these words, to let you see
That I admire all the things you’ve done
Your brilliantly well-thought out theory
Is why a place in hall of fame you’ve won
Eileen Manassian Ghali
There was a cloud hung over him
a presence, an impending doom.
He seemed one lightning strike away
from enlightenment - or entombment.
Haunted by the stigma of divine dissatisfaction
a wanderer in a spiritual maelstrom
questioning the questions of the questioners,
thinking on the thoughts of the thinkers,
worshiping at the edges of heresy,
praying for the efficacy of his prayers.
Hidden in the silence of life’s tomb
innocence interred beneath this “cloud”.
The sun never shone, the rain never fell,
on the unrighteousness of the righteous.
4/10/2016
//This turned into a "Free Verse Sonnet". Hope it works.//
submitted to – Sun shines on the righteous – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Seren Roberts
how my heart aches for you
you who do not see
the dainty charm of words
and their sweet efficacy
how my heart aches for you
you who remain unmoved
by the nuances and hues
of rhymes my heart's approved
how my heart aches for you
you who do not fawn
over works of Langston Hughes
and the likes of great John Donne
How my heart aches for you
you who do not feel
the soothing sentiment
of poems that can heal
How may heart aches for you
it aches, it aches, it aches
for you cannot bear your soul
to poetic gust that shakes
how my heart aches for you
for you will never know
the passion that sears my soul
then bathes me in its glow
~~ ~~
~ * ~
~~ My ~~
~ heart ~
~ aches ~
~ for ~
U
Eileen Manassian
“If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.”
?Saadi (A Persian POET)
My hyacinths are shaped liked poems!
My dearest Cordelia: I scribe this letter now to you from domestic port, the embrace of our farewell still entrenched deeply in my mind. The morn is now upon the tranquil bay and the fishing trawlers have left their docks and marinas to seek bounty of Neptune’s great waters. I can see their outlines before the brilliance of the young days sun some distance away. Its light reflects a white sheen off the oceans body with the appearance of alabaster mosaic pieces on liquid sapphire. The bustle of the coastal city is already in full steam and the crowds of people move through the streets and algid morning air like the current of a river, every man and woman a drop with its own destination.
All of these things commonly taken for granted or a brief inconvenience in the banalities of everyday life; all of these things I feel I will grow to appreciate exponentially in the coming months. It has been decided that our nation will go to war, this I am certain is not anew parcel of information to you as the papers, zeitgeist and the common declamation of all mouths has all been of patriotism and glory for our nation. But I remain silent amongst all this noise and distraction because the thoughts I host are not of glory or heroism but of you; and one question. How chilling is time to old men the pilot the helms of this world’s great nations that it could make the disposal of a generation of young men’s lives or the prevention of the efficacy of our love a simple edict on a paper?
But fear not Cordelia not for me or our love for even though I am soon to be cast into the battle between the two chimeras of this world’s mightiest nations. There is nothing that will stop me from reaching our nations shores once again and with you building the bower in which the family we have dreamed of will grow and blossom. When I have won the war with this perilous world and all its unfair edicts Cordelia I will have your hand.
Yours forever John
Self knowledge equated to the encyclopedia
and perceived facts, products of personal reasoning
the efficacy of thoughts should not be questioned
and assumptions simply made real and absolute
Typical of such a thought stamps on convictions that
the banana and plantain are the same
a superior race surely exist
leg size has a great correlation with the male’s genital
the measure of one’s success is solely factored
in his accumulation of wealth
and money is the root of all evil.
This mindset can walk on hot coal just to prove these points
Columbus was the first European to visit the Americas
bulls are colour blind and bats are completely blind
women are subordinates to men
and a pure heart is one which covers its body from head to toe
This mind can even tear its clothes to rags
in displeasure to your opposition to issues such as
Sydney is Australia’s capital
the earth’s evolution is the cause of day and night
Africa is a country and its inhabitants exchange
morning greetings with the Lion and the Chimpanzee
and Neil Armstrong is the first human to journey into out space
Despite carrying the internet even to the dreams
and having global captions mixed with daily breath
assumptions such as these are nurtured
religiously, with rigidity and military acceptance
the biggest illiterate of the 21st century is one
who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn
so said Alvin Toffler, the Australian Educationist.
Oh sorry! The American futurist
An elderly man I knew ,
( who had no issue)
about fifty years ago
was well known among the local
and neighbouring residents
for his knowledge of the native pantheon,
evil spirits, and ghosts .
Often he conducted rituals
to ward off the ghosts and evil spirits
from the homes and
individuals possessed by them
and to cure people of the illnesses
primarily attributed to sacrilege.
One day, his wife fell ill;
yet, he did not call doctors,
but performed traditional rituals,,
sought guidance from the deities
in his somber dreams.
Of no avail ,
she died after prolonged illness.
But he did not grieve for long.
"What can we the humans do
if God already destined her fate ? “
he asked.
The old man lived a long life,
cared for by a close relative.
He never consulted a doctor
nor took pharmaceutical drugs,
as he did not have faith
in their medical efficacy or sanctity.
(The poem dramatised under the title FAITH, PAIN( Latter rechristened as Thajabagi Cheina) by People's Arts and Dramatic Association ,and directed by Laishram Randhoni Devi was the Second Best play in the Creative Directors' Short Play Competition 2022 organised by THEATER CENTER under the aegis of SANGEET NATAK ACADEMY,NEW DELHI.In all the play won seven different awards.Among the notable awards are Best,Director,Best Actor,Best Actress and Best Script etc.)
The Salt of the Earth
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Pakistani musicians making music with pyramids and suffering?
Is it Pakistani musicians finding suffering in heart problems and untimely
hospital stays?
Is it Jordanian warriors tied to their culture, but yearning for the love of the world?
Is it soft hearted geniuses doubting their own efficacy but yet affirming my soul?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Divinity Students weighted down by the complexities of a God who would
forsake the downtrodden?
Or good hearted economists calling them commies?
Is it bow tie wearing conservatives who feed my mind yet bring a wry smile?
Is it Lesbian ethics professors who wage war on injustice?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Jewish prophets of industry who volunteer to fight on the front lines and
receive stress and conflict in return?
Is it Jewish prophets of industry who write with courage and integrity to
publishers who shun the very idea of the Divine?
Is it cross wearing angels of administration who work behind close doors of
schedules and student suffering?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Buddhist clinicians who start health care programs and help the unfeeling to
feel?
Is it loving pastors who pray with sincerity and conviction?
Is it a woman on the street teaching the rest of us to be grateful?
Or is it some wonderful euphony?
Or is it some wonderful euphony of people in conflict, yet all serving the same
goal?
Or is it some wonderful sound, as a sweet incense that though we refuse to
understand each other or consider the others vantage, together because our
hearts are good,
Together because our hearts are good.
Together because our hearts are good, we become a sound.
We become the sound of rushing water, and preserve the earth as one.
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
Bathing on the mild mid-afternoon sparks sun-charmed,
Reclined on a wave lounge, the pulse of the landscape warmed
My mellowed sighs mollified by colognes of fragranced jasmine,
The scenery enchanting slumbered, its pulsations pristine.
Pliably surfing through the air, with a rustling symphony
A swishing ensued, rocking the willows in tuneful synchrony,
Infusing the stroked atmosphere with its breeze contagious,
Like a sedative morphine, its flowing gust harmonious.
Birds stayed aloft, darting, weaving and swooping in flight,
Swimming in the calmed gale crests, relishing its raw might
Seamlessly suave as a reposing sea, the aura imbued
A chorus of trills recurrent echoed, while trees slued.
The surging wind ambled the aerated skin of nature,
Wandering like a regal gipsy, clad in mistless moisture…
Immensity of efficacy lies within veils of intricate purpose,
Like the invisible textureless wind, moseys to self-repose.
© Maverick Nyambu
Who are you!!!
it doesn’t matter as you will be judged
not by who you are
but by the perceptions of “who – they think - you are”.
Oh, I know, you don’t judge - you evaluate
my look, my posture, the tilt of my head
the whiteness of my teeth, the “cut of my jib”
filter all that I say through the detritus
of your mind, your experiences,
your standards of excellence – or fraud.
My background will sway your interpretation
of all I do, or say. “Well, what can you expect
from someone from such meager beginnings?”
Opinions will be tested for malleability,
beliefs will be rubbed against your “touch-stone”
the efficacy of my prayers measured against your icons.
So, all I can tell you is that I – am me – warts and all
a highly evolved spiritual being sailing through life,
seeking the serenity of the sea’s welcome.
I am an instrument guided by the hand of creation
slicing through the crust of fear, softening hardened hearts,
whispering to the wind that “we are at peace”.
If you must ask “Who Are You?” perhaps you may
benefit from gazing into a clear pool, smiling at the reflection,
asking yourself: “Who - Am I?”
N/A contest finalized 4/7/16
poem written on 4/2/2016
HALO-TOSIS
Chained preachers
putrid breath of lies
extolling the efficacy
of fire and brimstone’s
scorched souls.
10/30/2015
submitted to – In 5 lines or less #1 – Poetry Contest
sponsor – SKAT A
Late night overthinking
Heart racing, made up situation anticipating
Feelings chasing, dread encasing
I return, rewind to the start, replaying the awful part.
When they said that, what did they actually mean?
Conversation misconstrued, I probably came across really rude!
Going through that scenario
Searching for a way to let it go
Heart racing, situation is escalating
Tears rolled, feelings uncontrolled
I was the glue...holding it all together, what happened? Who knew?
Mentally stumbling
Rock and a hard place,
Put on your brave face
Dulling my shine
When will my mind be mine?
Getting caught on my thoughts
Trying to shake it, positive thinking,
deep breathing, count to ten, not working - count again.
Feeling like I'm sidestepping, continually procrastinating, forever underestimating
I'm in the way, just annoying, self efficacy so low, what to do? I don't know!
People do this so much better,
Heart still racing, face sweating
Non stop fretting, forever regretting
Everybody knows, cognitive overload
Short term-isms vs long term gains,
Refrain, hold back, don't do that!
Don't call them.. what would you say?
You can't say those words, total dismay
Stop it now, enough damage done
Heart racing, painstakingly debilitating
Beating faster, approaching disaster
She looked at me funny, although, that was ten years ago!
It was a silly thing to say, nobody got it anyway!
I've definitely spent too much money
Have a drink - stop the overthink
Numb it out, dim the shout
Not going to have time, I can't be late
thoughts re-group, consolidate
Move out the way,
pushing thoughts to one side, no where to hide, missing my stride
Am I mentally unstable?...No, normally quite able
Damn it, forgot the birthday card
How could I forget when I was remembering so hard
Heart racing, anxiety overtaking
Energy is decreasing, thoughts requiring releasing.
Confidence - an easy task, smiling - just a mask
Need to sleep, mind too deep
Deep breathing, count to ten - not working, count again.
Same time tomorrow? why yes of course!
Powerless to stop the overthinking force
Dear son,
I have no prologue, nor epilogue, only dialogue
That began when God's mirror was only man
God's ultimate mind, his dream, his purpose
The lump of clay in his hand, he hears his heart
Pouring over structure after structure of his great design
And we became as he intended, his cherished sons.
I did not make you this way, and should doubt
My efficacy to have ever made you at all. I can't resist
Memories of my own heart beating over you
When I held you cuddled to my love, new born
Is growing up, growing away too? Then the empty nest
Was the twin of your birth, my tragedy deferred
For the now when the phone never rings, and we smile
And say hello, for it is all a heart can hold now
Grooming you, feeding you, buying your joy
In boxes clustered like a room with toys ... these things
Are so superficial to the estrangement we have with God.
From that place of pain I would see, know, touch my life
Like I have meant to touch yours over the walls
Of many interventions and internecine strife, meet me
Like a man and think, how could I take you on Moriah
Unless in another way I had also died? Before we heard
The bleating lamb that would bleat no more on the cross
I had faith that you and I are more eternal than a knife
Raised like a fiend against the ethics of civilization
As if our best gift to God are dead children. You cannot
Come down from that mount without understanding
The way I understand how Oedipus blinded was the same
But unlike Abram, no deity supervened in his pain.
Every separation is another kind of death. Every love
A tragedy struggling to give birth to life again.
I love you son, and always will remain, your father
Longing for the same cross that always is redemption.
It Happened so Slowly
My self Worth, Respect,... Efficacy,
No longer reflect what I feel is me.
Belittled, tormented, mentally abused,
Put down, mistreated and totally used.
Unknowingly forming a victims thoughts,
Accepting behaviour, my stomach in knots.
Defending, justifying, as if it's ok,
For him to treat me in such a way.
I've twisted the truth somehow, I'm lost,
Just finally seeing the line we've crossed.
My children will always be # 1,
and I will own what I have done.
The pain that I feel is caused by the ignorance I see on television and facebook, youtube and twitter, and most importantly the minds and mouths of the multitudes of people that lack the acquirable knowledge that would educate them before speaking.
Our world has misplaced the efficacy of human touch, the importance of human communalism; we have overlooked the significance of human life, and no longer contain the fortitude to express the basic collective dignities all people warrant.
The paths that we take toward progression diverge from the ethical constitutions that were meant to chaperon the actions of man; paths that lead to supremacy rather than a place of equality, where one person’s revolution justifies the undermining of another’s natural liberties, and a place where the flamboyant cries of a few disillusioned are satisfied over the cravings of the crowds that are too preoccupied to bellow.
The sexual nature of our children has surpassed the carnal ways of our parents, and society begs for the young victims to expand their complexities of sensuality. The female body is not a gift, but a means of entertainment; the man is not a sturdy foundation for the family, but instead a source of erotic pleasures. Today it is exceptional to find a person that is faithful, and tomorrow we are all sufferers of divorce.
My God the path we have taken leads to destruction, and we advance ever so closer to the end. The people of our world our depressed and lonely and I fear for the world my children will grow up in. I question whether giving them life was the best thing I could have done for my children.
Amidst the chaos of Earth, I see a photo of an officer assisting a sightless man cross the street, I hear reports of a blessed man returning his earnings to those who need it more, I see a video of a Christian alongside an Atheist as they rebuild the house of a Muslim fire victim, and I see hope.
Hope, that we can one day be rid of the current ways we have chosen to live by; hope that our grandchildren will be blind of color, gender, sensualities, and judge no one. This hope is the hope that will bring us to our knees, and upon those knees shall we find man’s peace.