Best Enow Poems
This love, enduring - ballast of the soul
is ever curing, thee to mine, not role,
but a clear stream of commonplace, of knoll,
that not division's grinding can control!
Heart spoken, not then of some earthly toll,
life's emptying - its prisons, its extol
is neither weight's dissension or escrow,
that carrying as to mention, only know.
Love's ballast - risen, tempered - Godly show
is faith within, the inner mind's re-vow
does save, and then does throw away the dole,
while joy of true love, living is enow!
The rocket scientist looked in dismay as the rocket lay in a smolderin' heap!
'Twas fired t'ward Mars but was not to be - 'twas enow' to make a man weep!
As he skulked back to his office to figger out what went wrong,
A thought rattled thro' his skull settin' off a clangin' gong!
"The consarned thing is like some guv'mint workers I know!" he uttered!
"They won't work and you can't fire 'em!" under his breath he muttered!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Standing-by in the dreamy night,
Going beyond a sleepy state;
Trying, waiting, seeking a reply,
Seeking your smile--and I wait,
Standing by--much like a candle's thread
Whose little fire burneth bold:
Ready to flicker and die instead
From waiting, longing, growing cold...
Tell me what new gifts shall I bestow?
What new emotion must swell?
How much love must be enow
To cure mine heart unwell?
Tell me what new love, and what care
Must be made yours eternally,
For I'd go out any which where
If just to see you smile at me...
Used upshot ~ no just quiet ring
as Grandma sits upon her swing
content, but how, you want to sing
can quiet rest so willingly!
Her eyes seem set ~ yet seeing more
it must be from some elsewhere store
no name for it ~ I've never seen
this humming silence ~ all upbring!
A few things in her blighted way
just keep it simple ~ she might stray
to find herself another day
just Grama's room ~ no others play!
"Semper Fidelis" is our goal,
while Grama's just another soul
I must keep courage, country's role
the young, my strength, my certained skoal!
My house, my car, my holding's grow
my kids, my yard, my food enow ~
my fun in living for the show,
my lust's inebriating's toll!
Bring Grama home ~ she's all you've left
the years between, her roads still cleft
when she did hone your seed in debt ~
Bring Grama home . . . her grace is kept!
Motherland, my native-land,
Thou hast been again reduced to sand;
Once again these men have made you
That Old Woman, my motherland!
I look from here to there about
And my heart crosses this doubt
As how could it ever be:
Can I Not Help My Dear Country?
They freed thee years ago--
They drove out mortal enemy;
But worse fates have brought you down,
These three scores and years three...
Give me your voice my Motherland,
I'll do my best for all to see;
I'll free thee from all--all's enow:
I Shall Bring Back Our Dignity!
In times when your sons leave--
Desert their mother in troubled-sea,
I promise Mother, give a word
And I shall bring back Liberty...!
...Tell me your heart my Motherland,
Share your sorrows do, with me;
None could doubt, I shall bring back:
Get back our lost Liberty.....
Enow
enow. / (?'na?) / adjective, adverb. an archaic word for enough
Yes, We Survivors Do Live On But How
Many should die, millions or just enow
Yes, war and the fallen lives of war dead
Corpses strewn upon wet blood-soaked ground
In fertile fields, were farmers once did plow.
Many should die, millions or just enow
War the savagery of lost mankind
Death, carnage, loss and misery expands
In fertile fields, were farmers once did plow.
Many should die, millions or just enow
And tears fall like snow from a weeping sky
And mothers, daughters, many wear black dress
In fertile fields, were farmers once did plow.
Many should die, millions or just enow
Yes, we survivors do live on but how?
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
June 22, 1974
Note:
""Enow""
enow. / (?'na?) / adjective, adverb. an archaic word for the word= "enough"
Love is here, then and now;
often hidden, and hard to define.
I have won, and lost, and how
i long again to win your heart for mine.
if i gave up everything i had,
and stand alone in a place forbidden;
still my life wouldn't be so bad;
if i can hold within a hope unbidden.
For you.
i hope and pray, and pine away;
remembering moments gone, and treasured still.
there is no place my heart can run and play,
except around the thought of you, until
With you
in the past, i only knew that you were by my side.
but looking forward, to face our life together,
i missed moments of "your" life; now, wondering if "then", you cried.
while my life was easy, the world light and airy as a feather.
when "we" were one, yet i was "me"
tears wonder now, my love, who were "you"
maybe, it's to late, for selfishness was my reality
but today, love, i want to say, anew:
"i was never a "me", never a "we", never could been, or be
never the man, so self assured and confident, so free
never the me that i once was, never so worthy, never so happy
never what i value, never who i loved, never, ever,
could see;
myself, without looking through both our eyes, or through our peers;
and though back then you didn't cry; there were seldom any tears.
now, i wonder, when i think of you, as my vision clears,
thinking back, to that moment in time, the lonely and dismal; cheers
i once looked at you (and told you so),
with love, and gratitude. i was overwhelmed by you.
laying next to me, in my bed and life, a moment quiet and slow.
i felt, deeper, higher, better, my spirit near heaven flew,
with love for you
i never can, never enough, or earnest and sincerely enow;
thank you enough, love you enough, to express my heart.
there is no human "how".
though i'll try again, and here's a start:
for what it's worth,
from "me"
you mean more, than the whole earth
and myself, in the past, that "he"
who didn't often enough look to the side,
and took for granted Gods gift.
if i had it to do over again, you'd have been my bride.
i love you,
loved you;
never again will i be,
as happy.
as when "i" was "we"
Athwart Without Surcease — Edzel
Erelong the sphere was contrived,
intrinsically safe with His arms.
Born— soon derived,
and molded from His heart so warm.
Fain to live,
hight to be a no man in an island.
Sith ere He do forgive,
our sins be reprimand.
Teened with so many misdeed,
but He do acquit;
our men of courage didn't hid—
and but those hopeless did quit.
Meseems we're helpless,
souls are senseless;
Those who're lifeless,
can't be pulled out of darkness.
Hush.
The sleek fur of thy skull,
reamed out by duress.
Their zeal hastn't gone dull,
annihilation is devoutness.
Enow with termination,
ere the lands we owe—
lief be covered with wanion,
and eftsoons happiness alow.
Howbeit;
We grasped to fight,
ifsoever dictatorship swith enacted.
Humanity assimilates the light,
cast back not to be affrighted.
Assayed to be free,
thole is to be liberate.
We strife to flee,
‘tis to hearken the accouchement altercate.
The Livewright wanted us to fight aught,
may it be billows.
The end is nigh— we fought,
for we to bide tranquil in meadows.
Alas! Alack!
Beshrewed eftsoons,
ether evanescent.
Thy lay distuned,
and eyne dyed with torment.
Fooled ye’ll,
ill luck usward.
Certes— it rang, the dying bell,
avaunt, avaunt; froward.
Mayhap;
O’, living souls,
thou art the light—
Howbeit; the world was darkened by ghouls,
apparatuses caused blight.
Fatality somewither,
hypermedia is the root;
“We’d not be here forever,
but so my life could reboot.”
Callisto, the chaste, was Artemis’ ardent acolyte,
Daugher of Lycaon, was most beauteous and fair.
Zeus, besotted, imposed his Divine Right,
In Artemis' guise he seduced Calisto without care.
Daughter of Lycaon, was most beauteous and fair.
Artemis, furious of her disciple's break of vow,
(In Artemis' guise he seduced Calisto without care)
Turned her Ursine, said that was enow.
Artemis, furious of her disciple's break of vow,
The hapless young lass was left on her sad fate to bemoan,
Turned her Ursine, said that was enow
But Juno, most jealous, wouldn’t leave her alone.
The hapless young lass was left on her sad fate to bemoan,
Zeus taking pity Callisto did shield.
Juno, most jealous, wouldn’t leave her alone,
By Artemis arrow she wanted her felled on the field.
Zeus taking pity Callisto did shield,
Foiled Juno's schemes by clever ruse,
(By Artemis' arrow she wanted her felled on the field).
Ursa Major and Minor were formed for mariners’ use!
Foiled Juno's schemes by clever ruse,
The Northern skies adorn them yet,
Ursa Major and Minor formed for mariners’ use,
For eons now, below horizon they never set.
The Northern skies adorn them yet,
Zeus, besotted, imposed his Divine Right,
For eons now, below horizon they never set,
Callisto, the chaste, was Artemis’ ardent acolyte.
A Rhyming Pantoum of Five Stanzas Poetry Contest sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Date written: 09 May 2022
A little love-bud of mine
Like a pyre flicker of light
Inflame in my heart so bright,
Trod my heart o' labyrinthine.
Toxicate my heart to love:
Loving in truth, crystal clear;
Eternally I shall rove----
Living in your halo sphere.
O'er me; is a thousand grid,
Ver'ly let my love-bud grow
E'er waxing strong and rapid
B'twixt my cycle grove it glow.
Ultra and powerful to shine;
Downing to me the fair rays
Of a loving-bud, of mine;
Fore'er light'ning all my days.
More buds will yeild bounty light
Inside the chamb'rs of my soul
'Now, I wait for love to spright
Enow, to quicken me whole.
BY: OSUJI CHIBUEZE (PEN NAME: CHIBZ
OBSERVER)
Many busied minutes have been spent upon my brow....
As formed of sweat that be hanging on down as if not enow.
A toilment of movement has haunted my graying cloud about my head...
Following oh following b'neath my dread.
Will'st this dread bring about my unlying day reckoning of being dead? ...
Watching and waiting the spread of dread, whilst it does do change
into it's renewed spreading dread.
That clock on yonder wall does well haunt me...
Ticking it's unconcessive sound well ached to ear.
How will i manage to unbitter this sounding well resounding attacked
to my one good ear? ...
Haste to thee these all wasted many year.
Alas i must bid not one good fare thee well as not...
Hence my choice to die and proceed straight into that dismal hell.
Death still mocks me as i sit and dwell...
I shan't ever feel safe as well.
Death promises to me a long yearning respite...
This in the end to me will finally delight.
thunder roars all around us
rain has pillaged the Earth in petrichor
trees bend in the wind
and retrieve their stature
only to succumb to yet another burst
two pluviophile's sitting on the balcony
our conversations are mostly absent
from these words
you have taught me the gentle conversation
no need to dig into some dictionary
when love's simplicity beckons
yet she is a sponge
in the language i command
such a lady you are to me
says, what does that mean
i love it when you are a child in hand
i am called to duty
you never bring me to impatience
patience has awarded me beyond my dreams
the jewels i give you dance in your eyes
i just wish, but i cannot go there
the world would only intrude
it is the crown of thorns
my heart silently bears
your air of innocence is something i guard
a wolf leaps from your shadow
with deadly intent
aimed at the throat of any violator
the fate of a pluviophile
lost in the petrichor and you
God must hold a special pity
for me to be so graced
and i have learned from all of this
it is in the aiding of healing
we discover each other
the river's course remains unchained and free
love should be rampant lava
consuming all in its path
a pyroclastic flow that sweeps
two hearts into one
rain praters on while the wind
tosses badinage amok
as the lightning parries above
we retire for a nap in each other's arms
where the wolf in your shadow
is at rest
paradise enow
Abilene The Fate Within
But burrow not, nor cut in wrath
my flowing curl, life's under math,
to swirl it so, occasion's path
is not enow ~ vanity's craft!
I'll stick my neck out, counteract
some vague delusion others stack
my hair, but grow, as strength in fact
till pillars tumble, faith gives back!
Tis pride's own rantors should beware
who carry cantor with compare,
myself - my prowess, so repair
Aye, grow the truth, within, not stare!
This flowing gambit has its share
as hope not slander, courage scare
the rates of dander are ensnare
My locks comb smoothly with affair ~
This beauty's answer ~ God take care!
Distraction is the giant fuse
that takes my thought to other's lose,
to turn the heart to so and so
seems easier, than to rescue soul!
Mind on my ways, my thoughts of prose
are so entwining ~ losing's pose,
the mind, the mind is life's escrow,
the bind, the bind, is self control!
Ah lose me then, true love's not known
that thy encounters were bestow
and all thy rantings teamed enow ~
to live again, my life's expose!
Was gentle faith ~ in pathway's chose!
A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread—and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness—
Oh, wilderness were paradise enow.
(Omar Khayyam’s (1048-1131 CE) well-known quatrain (Rubai). Its translation was done by Fitzgerald as above. Now look at the following translation done by me of a Gujarati Muktak by Somsundar Soori (Vikram Samwat 1430-1499, older by about 54 years as compared to CE)).
Nature’s drape of cool sunny sand,
Sunshade of green trees, time in hand,
And buttermilk amply supplied,
Pray, what more would paradise lend?
________________________________
Reflections |22.08.2023| quatrain, poetry
Poet’s note: Both the foregoing quatrains have similar poetic thought. Does it mean that poet Soori copied the thought from Khayyam, who happened earlier? No, similar thoughts do sometimes strike poets.