Best Ennoble Poems
Jesus Christ, is the only way........
Jesus, without you I am nothing in this world
nor without your love, I will have no strength in my soul
Jesus, you do not want me to live eternally in hell
nor take wrong path to end my life in deep well
Jesus, my path will not be cleared without your foot steps
nor I can reach the heaven without your command
Jesus, worthy places can not be found without your light
nor worship places can not be found without your precepts
Jesus, knowledge can not be wasted in your kingdom of wisdom
nor your guidance can not be stopped within limits
Jesus, you have died on the cross to save my soul
and want to wash away my sins to make me perfect.
Jesus, my savior thank you for being there at all times
and blessing me in many ways.
Jesus, give me more strength to live with your words
that always ennoble me.
Because, this is the only way I can reach you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
All rights are reserved @ 2018 - Ravi Sathasivam
The Sun will shine brighter tomorrow when
We treat one another civilly again...
When kindness, courtesy and grace
~ Once more ennoble our race...
The Heavens will smile pleasingly when
Men and women guard their tongues and their pens...
When modesty trumps 'fashionable nudity'
~ And the latest style on the rack is humility.
Oh, what is this thing called love?
It's a concept I don't understand.
Delight that occurs at first sight?
Or can it be carefully planned?
Is it something that lasts for all time,
or will it run into the sand?
Would Priapus profit from praise,
or should he be promptly trepanned?
Is love as elusive as luck,
or can it be had on demand?
A candle that burns all alone,
or a flame to be furiously fanned?
Is love like a light in the soul,
that will last and endure and withstand?
Is it not just a chemical shot,
just a spurt or a squirt from a gland?
Does this love thing ennoble us all,
or should it be totally banned?
A danger to all it ensnares,
or something incurably bland?
A bonus and boon for mankind,
that ought to be loose in the land,
or a danger deserving restraint,
to be chained and detained on remand?
Oh, what's this enigma named love?
Allurement? Procurement? Command?
Will it harm me, or charm me, I ask:
should I fake it, or take it in hand?
They walk alone together down the bright white line, their
Voices garble against the humming hordes as the
Tautness of the moment lays out like lacquer in the dustlight
Of our dreams, life feeding moisture under cleated white grass.
Talking angularly and stepping away from the parabola now they
Stop to admire the scoreboard like field generals
In the infinite march of Time's conquest.
They turn back into the red zone and ennoble their strides and
Emblazon their courage against the dizzying starscape.
A genius is a special kind, indeed:
he or she is a creature of the mind
who creates where breaths of inspiration lead,
like mythic Muses on a Grecian wind;
some have the gift of poesy like Keats,
and some the gift of music like Mozart;
some pen pastorals of farms, fields, and sheep
while others write refrains that move the heart.
The divine gift of genius is a tool
conferred by one's high Muse to create art,
music, and science to ennoble the fool
in every tribe of which we are a part.
But if your genius be not in this rhyme,
then share the greater "genius" that's your time.
Part One
“The Kurral owes much of its popularity to its exquisite poetic form. A kurral is a couplet containing a complete and striking idea expressed in a refined and intricate metre. No translation can convey an idea of its charming effect. […] The brevity rendered necessary by the form [composed in the Venpa metre] gives an oracular effect to the utterances of the great Tamil ‘Master of the sentences.’ They are the choicest of moral epigrams. […] Tiruvalluvar is generally very simple, and his commentators very profound.”
Rev. G.U. Pope, Former Fellow of Madras University
[Pardon these futile measly words from your great Potiya height: they can hardly belittle your true worth.]
Under what leaky hutment roof by stamped-mud floors
trembling clair-oscuro straw-wick kuttuvilakku
on the stark anvil of crisp phrase and sparse syntax
by the raging nama-nir rhyming brine
at Mayilapur’s S.Thomé sandy doors
while peacocks danced to your innate pulsating chimes
have you chipped away at uncut gems
Those the Yavanas brought with the monsoons
or such as your sea-daring captain friend Elela-Cinkan’s
Even those the Christian missionaries preached
in daredevil enticement
after St.Thomas fell to a vel stuck in his bosom
or of those like you who were stamped underfoot
Caste in cast-iron strictures
Priest only to the proclaimer paraiyar drum-beaters
The warp and woof of intricately woven venpa verse
elevating your weaving clan to fresh artistic heights
YET
in the humbled ways of your birth
on whose steps have you pitched your ears
whose wisdom have you had to pilfer
filter
whose ways have you had to ape
whose mere thoughts have you then had to set aright
ennoble
and remould into inextinguishable lines
Or had you tread the ahimsa path of gentle-foot Jains
Treading gently the earth for fear of loping boot pains
(Continued in Part Two)
While Beauty Sleeps
While Beauty sleeps, there are souls upon this earth that have never known her. Many seasons have passed and her eyes are still shut. She is hiding behind pavements of tar and cement. She is drugged from the smell of burning rubber and plastic scents.
Styrofoam has compromised her health. There are souls upon this earth that have never laid eyes upon her. I am here to testify, to tell all who listens, that I am a poet-I came to tell you things that only poets can tell.
There are souls that I ennoble while looking through my eyes, they can see the deep woods, the flowing fountains, New earthlings can now envision the fragrances of a million blossoms bobbing, bobbing to the cricket's nightly song.
I am the architect rebuilding the walls of time... Desperately trying am I, to sing my song before more mortals die; To sing my loving words before more mortals die. There are souls upon this earth. it’s' sad but very true – Humans who know nothing of love and beauty.
We all must live to die or die without ever living. We stumble and sometimes fall; However, we have that something, that lost souls never saw.
We know grace and mercy, we know compassion, love, and respect; We knew mountains and valleys. We also knew blue skies without chemtrails. We knew praying mantis, we knew beetles and snails.
We knew breadfruit; and why dandelions and mushrooms grew. We know where beauty sleeps, so we live to tell the poets tale. We speak of days gone by and gently arouse her beauty as we speak.
I am not an artist of spoken word, neither am I a profit, I am but a poet shaking beauty gently, awakening her from a long, long nap...Reminiscent of when innocents reigned as king.
I do not recite for money nor do I sing for fame. I only report what my heart records, and look forward to another spring. I have danced with the humble, and shared wisdom with noble queens;
My excitement overflowing brings joy to eager ears. Loves fury has entitled me, to shield you from your fears. Myself, yes me, I whisper softly, as not to disturb hate.
God bless you on your journey; I can no longer interfere, nor save you from your fears.
You have what you need to carry on, and I know that you are able.
When love gave birth to folklores and fables...I gave birth to poetry babies.
With the brave nerve and poetic verve,
I have viewed martyr place in a daydream,
Almighty allocate, there righteous soul thereafter life,
Marvelous, awesome, splendid paradise it Seem,
Bowing trees of olive, flowing torrents of milk and honey,
Hanging fruits trickling nectar, Queuing castles in row,
No melancholy, pain and beavering away is there,
Take back the reward of deeds that they sow,
Pleased moments, precious time spent in the rogation of Almighty,
Observed happy, contented and joyful faces of all who martyr,
Almighty ennoble them from the rest of world,
We can’t imagine, the honor given to them so higher,
The beneficence of Almighty so vast and measureless,
Encompass the whole world from above to beneath,
He will revivify new life to them after death,
They become the twinkling star on cloud nine zenith.
Shahid Hussain Chouhdry
Voice Of The Real Victim
Girls have me long as I increase her beauty, I’m the hair
But people use me creepy, it’s not fair.
Me the forehead being in a full entity,
Though I can grab your mind which is so shitty.
Me filled with salt water
Dreamt to be amazed with glowing colors,
But now with full of anger
Destroyed by devils with endless hunger.
With the sense of smell, I’m the nose
To those who doesn’t have nerves
By your sight I can smell your evil thirst,
And also, I can sense your noxious lust
The two attractive part, I’m the lips,
Only with love give me the kiss.
Me the neck, a narrow connecting,
But this brutal act makes me dying.
I create different sounds; I’m the reason why you speak
Don’t press me hard, as I’m a little weak,
Just like the sweet voice of the nightingale and sparrow
I cry within me, my anger and sorrow.
We the twin organs on a women’s chest
We produce milk for the infants to drink.
Why you demons strike us for the taste,
You make all our virginity to go waste.
I’m the shelter for your child,
I have nothing to make you wild.
What’s there in me to snoop?
Dignitaries don’t have an act to sue the group.
Longer we are attractive we look,
We bear a lot of pain in running and working hard ,
You break me to avoid getting kicked
Forgetting that, I have a life behind the wrecked.
I bear the pain of giving birth
But misused by people who lack to know it’s worth.
Women society should be made honorable
Who should also teach their own ennoble.
………………..
Who are you to have ever claimed loved towards me,
someone whom you’ve yet even seen..
but a fool you are, if when passing by, obsess and attest
that for me you would die.
But would you forgive me?
My credulity intact…
If I claim without reason to trail away from deceiving…
Stubbornly amused,
Seemingly lost a friend again,
caught up in the tangents.
so uncouth,
to ennoble ones self through an enmity loaned.
and intoned upon the able fact that without our pact
there would be no tract…
no able pinned feature to allure,
to distract?
How would you abstract in this world,
filled with truth,
‘pon these features we’ve gleamed as it seems to arraign in us
a meaning, a trust…
Our personal tribunal of mutuality…
If miracles were from the trees
I could have picked the only
That could change the world forever
Make it a better site,
For every one of the inhabitants
Bring to an end all evils, and
Catastrophes that trouble the innocents,
Put to a stop era of calamity
That began with arrival of the evil monster,
Feeding on the lost souls,
While intoxicating them with evil appetite,
To cause chaos that cannot be fixed,
As they enjoy hosting dark forces;
So if miracles belonged to the orchard
I would have picked the only one,
That could ennoble everyone around,
Restore love and peace in our midst,
In this world born out of love
People believe:
To change something forever,
It always starts with the Man in The Mirror.
On this Earth, long we have all been,
both aged and teen,
And I believe of all our goals,
The most important should be to ennoble our souls.
For without guilt, we use our world as a fence,
And show it our assumption of reverence,
But what makes the difference,
Is our rigid preference.
Now to save the world from the end of its tether,
The masses of millions must come together.
Because even though we claim it as the Mother of all,
We, each, look to erase it from History’s scroll.
For while we cut trees and burn fuel here,
The Earth blinds back tear after tear.
To respect this fact:
To give our evils a strong border,
I believe an endeavour to heal the world, is in order.
And to give the healing process a direction,
I suggest a bit of introspection,
This way, every man, woman and child,
Would, on “Mother” Earth, stop being so wild.
Long enough has been postponed a juncture,
Where we think about the future.
For why should the Earth, on us, show pity,
When, to save it, are ready, neither foolish nor witty?
So let us leave a little behind for our kith and kin,
And deprive ego of its biggest win.
For only those are believed human,
Who live and let live. :) :)
Oh, what is this thing called love?
It's a concept I don't understand.
Delight that occurs at first sight?
Or can it be carefully planned?
Is it something that lasts for all time,
or will it run into the sand?
Would Priapus profit from praise,
or should he be promptly trepanned?
Is love as elusive as luck,
or can it be had on demand?
A candle that burns all alone,
or a flame to be furiously fanned?
Is love like a light in the soul,
that will last and endure and withstand?
Is it not just a chemical shot,
just a spurt or a squirt from a gland?
Does this love thing ennoble us all,
or should it be totally banned?
A danger to all it ensnares,
or something incurably bland?
A bonus and boon for mankind,
that ought to be loose in the land,
or a danger deserving restraint,
to be chained and detained on remand?
Oh, what's this enigma named love?
Allurement? Procurement? Command?
Will it harm me, or charm me, I ask:
should I fake it, or take it in hand?
You always say the nicest things
and make one feel at ease.
Your words are intended to please.
The sound of your voice sings.
Thousands of reasons to like you.
All who know you agree.
You are life’s magic mystery.
On first meeting we knew.
To know you is to love the sun
and hug the cool moon, too.
Your smile is brilliant like fresh dew.
No one receives your shun.
Stars smile on your ennoble face.
Your eyes light up the room
like a harbor from solemn gloom.
Your being full of grace.
Buds heed your call to burst in bloom,
rivers to seek the sea.
Your presence has a grand esprit
that warms an airish room.
Heads turn ‘round whenever you knock,
happy to see a friend.
My words I happily append,
in current terms - you rock!
For Joseph May Contest: Submitted 05/10/2025
************
From the rugged screeching of the heart,
Slackened in behavior and chronic pain
Is it time to ennoble that worldwide part?
This is the ideology from which they start
Men ought to rekindle patriotism again
From the rugged screeching of the heart.
Admiring the breezy and the smart,
And now, with clearer touch and brain
Is it time to ennoble that worldwide part?
The weakened loyalty values depart
Neither dogma nor the strain yet remain
From the rugged screeching of the heart.
Not conducted by the heinous chart
That pricked the mass for nefarious gain
Is it time to ennoble that worldwide part?
Reforming scarce constitution and art
Whose emblems are the countless slain
From the rugged screeching of the heart,
Is it time to ennoble that worldwide part?
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: October 31, 2022
Writing Challenge - X'd Poems Second Chance Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France