Best Engenders Poems
Poetry, I love you. By your visit, my heart gladdens
You come to me in moments, when noise softens
Awaken me with thy presence, pervading my being.
Through oceanic waves of joy, let my soul go skiing.
You’re born as a gleam that never seems to die
Sprout as a gushing fountain no summer can dry.
Glow in many hearts as a jewel no one can price.
Visit souls when the noise fades n' shadows race.
Poetry, for your soothing presence my mind craves.
Dwell within me as the cadence of lulling waves
Let me weave magic with rhyming words and dance
Alight on steeds of imagination and let me prance.
Poetry is born from deep depths within,
When gurgling streams of thought flow in.
It comes natural, spontaneous and unbidden-
A gift got from God, but at times may lie hidden.
When my heart is veiled in fear and doubt,
When my spirit lies parched by drought,
When clouds of sorrow gather in my sky,
My Muse comes to me lifting me to levels high.
She sits by my side when no one is near,
Gathers in her cupped hands each single tear.
Through the magical alchemy of ringing rhyme,
Washes away my grief, making me happy in time.
Poetry is catharsis for my burdened breast.
It consoles me and gives my spirit quiet rest.
Each word born out of my soulful silence,
Becomes my close buddy giving me guidance.
But poetry can’t be forced or compelled
Nor commandingly summoned or impelled.
When coercively we bid the muse to sing,
We only spoil the music she would bring.
Without spontaneity, poetry becomes a hollow art.
Without flow, it lacks the pulse of the heart.
What it engenders then won’t be rhythmic harmony,
Instead, what it produces may seem an anomaly.
Wish from my mind, flow symphonies sweet
Of idyllic happiness, peace and delight
Songs of beauty and bliss, love and lust
That will fuel hearts with vigorous zest.
If you have attentive ears, listen to my sweet trills
Let it ring forth in rising lilts when the world stills
Let them not be lost in the caverns of darkness
Or die as fading echoes in impenetrable wilderness
A Foggy Morning
By Elton Camp
All was clear when I went to bed
Just now, I discover it’s there
Stealthily overnight it crept in
Its whiteness obscures the scene
Familiar shapes are blurry now
A feeling of peace it engenders
Even the birds have ceased chirping
Silver orbs adhere to a spider’s web
Too soon, the sun will break through
To restore the world I once knew
A moment of serenity will be past
What a shame it was unable to last
Friendship
F orget-me-nots start blooming in the vales
R oses, yellow, grow to withstand small gales
I dyllic is the feel that it births in friends
E ncouragement and joy should be its ends
N ights turn serenely cool with friendship thoughts
D ays too should become joyous and less hot
S ensuous or even sensual could turn this bond
H appiness for all , its true sine-qua-non
I ntrospect often, navigating this ship
P eace , it engenders, during times of hardships.
@ 20 Apr 2013
For Becca's 'What a Friend really is'
Form: Acrostic/couplet
She pervades and unveils all that I have kept hidden for so long
I do not know her but I hear her voice in and around my mind
It is weightless and I know she wills it in sound with ease
She is harmony, a beauty I would be so favoured to find
The friendly nudge at my side when I need it most
I do not know her but I feel her on my skin magically without touch
She engenders love innocently in all she does
It is a glow around her that is infectious and unrivalled by much
Her soul is saved for me and her gaze meets mine softly as does the sun at dusk
I do not know her but I see her eyes piercing mine
Without force nor resistance there is a wild and untainted kinship forged
She is a reflection that light overrides darkness, a sign
Her essence is the burst of aromas that fill the air around me
I do not know her but I taste the very air she breathes so tangibly
It is crisp and light without a hint or trace of impurity
A fresh tonic to heal, to restore and to strengthen vigorously
As if I wonder and follow her, unaware yet willingly
I do not know her but I smell her presence in rooms she has visited
A remnant I could not mistake for any other if I tried
There is something to be said for peace so beautiful and unlimited
Have you ever tasted the air in such a way as to be swept away by it?
I dare to say I have and yet quietly here I sit
How strange are these things that unequivocally bind me to her?
I dare not think on it, for rationality will not explain what is and what will occur
In spite of total darkness between our paths and the questions I have
I sense I will know her because once paths cross, we will reach out half and half
A hankering for a well-of life,
Reminds me to focus on my dreams.
And assiduous itself, is my caliber -
That relies its origin from dedication;
Because nothing rules my mind, but the words,
I will, pursue my dreams.
Being intense about a well-to-do lifestyle,
Enthuses me to ponder on my goals.
And industrious is what reveals my progress and productivity;
Which is brought by tireless all day long day!
Because nothing encourages me, but the words,
I will, pursue my dreams.
Being ardent about that moneyed life!
Engenders me to contemplate on my professions.
And hardworking itself, is my best friend;
That keeps me me unremitting and single-minded.
Because nothing lies deep in my heart, but the words,
I will, pursue my dreams.
color awe
so crystal as to hear an
enigma
whiffed fragrance
a strangeness to scarcely taste
obscure scenes
light is sown
feel the warmth that follows miles
minds do smile
-----------------------
"An individual whose conscious awareness is such that a sound becomes fused with a sense of color and taste; for whom each fleeting impression engenders a vivid, inextinguishable image; for whom words have quite different meanings than they do for us—such a person cannot mature in the same way others do, nor will his inner world, his life history tend to be like others'."
from:
Luria, A. R. & Solotaroff, Lynn (translator) (1968) The mind of a mnemonist: a little book about a vast memory. Jonathan Cape
Will we ever grasp the absurdity
Of our vanity showing disrespect
For our planet’s wholesome diversity
With lessons barely learnt in retrospect
Audacity shamefully outrageous
Arrogance beyond wild insanity
With consequences least ambiguous
Undermining their brutal gravity
Should we not reinvest our planet’s love
Carefully fostering by any means
Earth’s lavish bounty and beauty above
Nurturing purity of blues and greens
Harmony with nature engenders art
Thus reflecting the color of my heart
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on December 3, 2019 for contest WRITING CHALLENGE - DECEMBER - ANY POEM NA'D IN NOVEMBER 2019 sponsored by DEAR HEART - WIISHKOBI ODE - RANKED 1ST
Basking in Moonshine, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s Claire de lune
(Translation of Paul Verlaine’s « Claire de lune » by T. Wignesan. Again I try to keep to the original syntactic patterns and visible layout, but I must admit I could produce other renderings which could equally do justice to the probable « intention » of the poet.)
None may ask for better landscape than where souls lie
Wherein might rove charmingly masked bergamaskers
Strumming their luths while dancing but who well nigh
Look stricken under their outlandish disguises.
Verily singing in a murmurous tone
Love that triumphs and life’s seizable worthiness
Yet hardly seem to believe in their own good fortune
And their song dissipates into moonlight’s pallidness,
Into that sad yet pleasing stillness the moon engenders
Which must surely induce birds in trees to dream
And to gush ecstatic through sturdy water spurts,
Tall chiselled water columns against marble gleam.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The Error, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : El Error
for Miguel Delibes
(There are just some words and phrases in this translation that I might yet want to modify or substitute with other alternative phrasing. T. Wignesan)
There must be an error in the calculation,
a hole in the sock, a trick in the game :
behind our backs somebody drinks all the alcohol of the said-one
and gets drunk and is unable to stand up ;
somebody manages to conceal the harvest’s wheat and the cream
of the meanings.
Search. in the bassement or the dolls’ quarters the reason for the
crucifixion,
and then be obliged to hide the powerful event behind the fact of
taking tea in the dining-room, below the vine arbour or in the
shade of the cherry trees.
Doubtless one will find meaning behind each vile act,
the mathematics of suffering where each crack of the whip is a
number.
Here you have the delightfulness of the encompassing of the
system which provides for exclusion as well,
the co-existence of both the truths, the framework of impossibility.
Right here, in front of us, the superb fitting together of horror and
of music stands presented,
that which engenders the enthusiastic cipher, the melody of the act
of birth and of death.
Faintly visible from an angle/a place the beauty of water spilled
over the floor,
the incessant leak from the eaves trough which makes us laugh.
Look ! How all of us dance around the fire,
we put one step after another over the firebrands without
compulsion,
we get close to the flames with joy, we become familiar with the
cinder(s).
Here we are dancing, enjoying ourselves, surrounding ourselves with ceremony and with rites,
with the rhythm which makes us get together in the moment of
the cremation.
Here we are without fear as if someone perhaps, distractedly perhaps,
or enjoying himself perchance,
had undertaken for us to magically produce
pigeons full of surprise from the sombrero or in the pocket of the
juggler,
from the other side of an incipient horizon gone feeble,
from where perchance we would be warned of it,
dissimulating away those emerging golds from the topmost heights,
an ambiguous error in the calculation,
a hole in the sock,
a huge trick in the game.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
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Between two lands of mountain mist
There lies the lower plain
Where bone-dry desert sands exist
In constant need of rain.
Yet still proud creatures work and play
Upon cracked earth each sun-drenched day.
The leather-lizzards, long and gray,
Claim ancient history
Entitles them to lead the way
As desert royalty;
But creature discontent prevails
From slither-snakes to slow pace snails.
Society's contentment fails
When creatures can't agree
On what good governing entails
Beyond democracy;
The highest form of tolerance
Ensures a neutral governance.
Equality with permanance
For creatures great and small
Engenders peaceful countenance
Among the creatures all.
This balance must be guaranteed
As peaceful coexistent's need.
Each individual creature's creed
Evokes complexity.
Adaptive skills mark every breed
With ingenuity;
Sure-footed misty mountain sheep
To prarie dogs who burrow deep.
Each predator allowed to keep
No more than is its due;
So every creature then will reap
Survival's gift anew
Without a lizard as their king
And all the discontent king's bring.
Author Notes
This poem is a sextet. The first four lines
are written in 8/6 ballad form with an abab
rhyme scheme. The last two lines are written
as a tetrameter (8 syllables) rhyming couplet.
The couplet rhyme is carried on to the the next
stanza as the rhyme in lines 1 and 3. Hope
you enjoy this inadequate nod to George Orwell
ah, shivers...
generously course through
my veins every time
i'm touched by you;
the all-consuming current
at the tip of your fingers,
earthshattering!
oh my, shivers...
i feel them strongly all over
they seize control of me
like a wicked fever each time
your lips softly meets mine;
kiss me over
and over again.
whoa, the shivers...
your voice engenders
make the floor
beneath my feet tremble.
whisper sweet nothings
into my ear again; one more...
to call it a night, my dear.
this very moment,
nothing feels...
more divine.
Date written: 03/10/2021
I have learned in the reclining chair,
while the dentist mined deep veins of decay,
how to transfer pain.
The needled anodyne of novocaine
is inadequate to allay
the harrowing ache he engenders there.
But not even by bending fingers until they pop
or stabbing nails into the tenderest flesh
can I get the dedicated ache to stop.
Nor did my visit to another woman
after the last set when her shift was done
soothe the bruises on my heart
that blossomed when you stole the sun.
Mindless anomalies!
Bantering comments!
Hurtful dispositions!
Obstructed vision!
Through the ages men have brought
Their teachings to the fore,
They ruminate and contaminate
Posterity all the more.
Angry visages and angrier words,
Poison to the souls,
That lurch and quiver, tremble, teeter,
Stretched to opposite poles!
The natural state exemplifies good,
The opposite engenders hate,
And in the scheme of exposure,
Perchance: Hades gate?
Born without a worry,
Born without a care,
The legacy they will incur
Conspicuous in their forebears!
This is the season
For flying a kite.
Succumb to the wind
And indulge in delight.
Release enough string
So it rises with ease
And watch how it dances
And dips in the breeze.
With tail all a’flutter,
It tugs at its tether
To frolic with glee
In this blustery weather.
I don’t understand
In the midst of a fight,
Why someone will tell you
To go fly a kite.
It’s meant as an insult,
To vex and annoy,
But kite-flying always
Engenders such joy.
I guess some expressions
Fall far out of style,
For flying a kite
Is a path to a smile.
For Gwendolen Rix's "Lets Go Fly a Kite" contest
Thanks to Andrea Dietrich for being an inspiration and a kindred spirit.
Time, the great equalizer, yet mastered by none;
Deadline’s enemy, said to fly when linked with fun.
An endless river flowing toward the future;
Excites planners anticipating adventure.
If time was the medium to settle the score,
Would it make people pause and reflect a bit more;
And gauge success by serving a higher purpose;
Not by the rat-race, keep-up, cash-chasing circus?
Asset? Liability? Depends on one’s use;
To daydreamers, it can be a life-wasting muse.
Valuable to those who save early in life;
But wait too long, and it engenders later strife.
A claimed healer of wounds, helping many forget;
Prior mistakes, harms, other sources of regret.
Time moves steadily forward, present becomes past;
Outpacing people, places, things that do not last.