Best Evidences Poems
Sunlight expects the dawn to return,
Soft blessings pour out laughter,
Stirrings of faith who remind and discern,
Warming the rhythms, the rhymes hereafter.
Moonlight expects the night to console,
Gentling the spirit who abides,
Whispering melodies, silence once stole,
Trembling secrets of love make hearts whole.
Starlight expects the breathless grace,
Praises so wise, so subtle and pale,
Merely the fragile glittering of an embrace,
Wistful as evidences who darkness can’t erase.
Lights for healing, revealing, appealing…
Glowing softly, like a whisper in the soul,
Kindness so breathless, much more than feeling…
Blessing with tender gestures, love that’s still kneeling!
Within a night, a simple crop field has been transformed into a magnificent work of art, the overnight cryptic formations capture the attention of all as the large section of the crop has been tamped into marvellous morphic designs of art, rings and other intricate accomplished geometric patterns.
Edges so neat, it appears that they have been crafted meticulously with most advanced gadgets, with such precision that even though the stalks are bent, they are not damaged at all.
One scientific theory explains the spinning columns force a burst of air down to the ground, which flattens the crops, yet the myth remains how can a few seconds works of spinning air creates such intricate and absolutely perfect circles, sometimes plain, sometimes circles within the circles with myriads of meticulous patterns within patterns? Some says aliens hands behind, some negates them as man-made hoaxes.
Wonder! People close to those rings of crops, encounter strange physical and emotional reactions as the circles rotate clockwise and anti-clockwise as unseen hands or remote controls are controlling them from unknown realms.
From Hollywood magic to spirits of secret weapons, from evidences of UFOs to erudite explanations, there is something hypnotic in their architectures, in their cryptic presences, in their aesthetic textures for inquisitive minds to continue further quests to unravel their enigmatic riddles.
© Silpika Kalita
LA CHUPACABRA
In the thickets green, it waits, hunched
On all fours.
Leering, its piercing eyes set aglow,
By passing cars headlights.
Slowly, the creature moves, almost
Without a sound.
Creeping across the road towards
Its quarry, and salivating.
It's a sharp-toothed critter, the size of
A small bear, lies in waiting, for
His victim to take a misstep.
Weaving back and forth, it
Strikes against the prey,
Until satisfied at the raw
Experience of death, has
Been concluded, to it's
Bloody satisfaction.
Flesh to bone, a killer
Feasts in the night, leaving
Devastation in the wake behind it.
Claws dripping, with leavening remnants,
A vile thing, an experimental
Chameleon blending into it's
Surroundings perfectly!
It hides in the shadows unto dusk,
Stalking, ambivalent to danger,
And ever aware of its surroundings.
The La Chupacabra, sits motionless,
In the underbrush waiting.
Where does it come from, is it
Fact or myth?
Evidences wrongful creation by
Misidentification.
Only future generations may
Discovery the truth.
But until then I'll watch closely
At night, and if I were you,
I'd do the same.
One never knows, what may be
Lurking the darkness?
Or whom might be looking,
Right back at you,
Hiding in the black shadows of night!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature
Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil
which results in a war without cause or reason
The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin
Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be
Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?
Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
Its creation’s simplicity still stands as a difficult puzzle
head is twisted backwards while in a forward motion
still looking behind at the chronicles of some centuries ago
long before the infiltration of Christian missionaries and Arab traders
is the exact factor making its existence seemingly complex.
Foreign politics and faiths both adopted,
have tied it with the ropes of inferiority
systematically indoctrinated to condemn
its history, personality and civilization,
while grabbing other languages and cultures so dearly
to the point of blindly pushed into Anarchy.
The modern world is on a high speed,
excuses of the west’s exploitations to build their civilizations
are noisy complaints and already cliched.
Small islands with no natural resources as Singapore;
the awe of the miracle of the Han River portrayed by south Korea
and the magical performance of India in information technology
are evidences of old colonies
beating their colonizers in some phases of development.
From Abuja to Addis Ababa, Khartounm to Kigali,
no Caucasian is seen, staying in charge of its state houses
but to give reasons to its mediocrity and indifference,
conspiracy theories and neo-imperialism twaddle are coined.
All these, just complications of a chronic low self esteem
but unfortunately manifesting at a time it should be confident
in the chaotic universe
of western imperialism, Christian materialism and Arab expansionism.
LIZZIE BORDEN
Poor miss Lizzie, a murderess acquitted,
By a judgment’s ruling of her peers,
Yet command by histories theatrics.
Astound damsel, to the wealth’s elite,
A matron’s old maid, imprisoned by
An unjust fate.
By the falling axes sharpened blade,
Two lives ended, ensuing the public’s
Scandal and out rage.
Does not the rhyme in time not state,
The accusations inquest to her guilt,
Without evidences accuracy to the accused.
Used to frighten the rich and poor
Children alike to behave or else, did this
So go, Lizzie Borden took an ax,
And gave her mother forty whacks,
When she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty one.
A bloody odes melody, left to
History's swinging hatchet’s,
Rough unsheathed edge.
Rocking, chopping a ticking
Time bomb, of the pasted.
Her story's haunting mystery,
Still intrigues the Sherlock Homes
Detective, in the common man.
Whom did this dirtiest of deed,
The foul plays miscreant, that
Got away with murders perfect
Crime.
Three ghostly voices scream
For justices revenge, a father,
A step mother and the daughter,
Proclaiming her own innocence.
Lizzie Borden's name, lives on
In Infamies guilty court of the
Unforgiven.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
In the bitterest of the cold polar north shadows of illusions dwell,
Reflections of light on ice, maybe so or is there more to these
Optical delusions, the natives say creatures hide amongst these
Rocky snow covered hills, and they call forth the power of the
Alpine peaks for protection!
These mountainous summits of elevation known as the
Thundering mountains, many men have gone missing here,
Without explanation or reason, without any evidences trace
Ever being found, as if just vaporizing within the alpine mists?
But legends say by the tribal chieftains, they were taken by the
Snow beasts the Yeti’s, the abominable demons for
Trespassing on their sacred icy lands!
These outlander's whom should have known better,
Warned were they not, to climb at this inaccessible remote
Elevations for this is the forbidden territory belonging to
The creatures of the rocks!
Many men go there and are swallowed whole by the mighty
Avalanches, called forth by the screaming howling of the
Mountain guardians, weaving through these ice and spray
Waves as if they were made of winter wisps’ of air, the creatures
Take these hikers, or skiers unware, than devour
Them later at their leisure’s pleasure afterwards!
These avalanche waves have another name given to
Them eons ago, the claws of the tiger, sweeping
Within their mighty claws, everything living or none,
Beneath their talons of devastation!
But what if there were more to this myths story,
What if these two legends were working together?
In a tandems precisions epic motion, beast and
Mountains, both struggling to survive, against
The onslaught of humanities approach!
Endurances basic instinct of survival, natural law
Prevails, that only the strongest of the species is allowed
To continue, but what if these two natural raw forces
Combine, to do whatever it takes to achieve
This final climatic extraction, brawn concurring
Intelligence, or maybe it’s the other way
Around!
In this wilderness only the whispering winds
Knows the answers to these questions of inquiry,
And there left unheard by the deafening ears of
Progress and mankind until it is too late!
But the native people know, and warn them
To stay away for this land belongs to the Yeti’s
And the mountain protect them beneath the
Claws of the white tiger, the mighty avalanche!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Described as “patriot of patriots” by Mahatma Gandhi
His Words, ‘Give me blood and I shall give you freedom’
Are still ringing in the minds of each and every Indian.
He stood for unqualified Freedom with the use of force
Meaning quite against with Gandhi’s non-violent ways.
Subhas Bose presumed to have died on 18 August 1945
On Taipei Airport in a plane crash but with no evidence.
The mystery of his death and survival haunts the Indians.
The inability of the three commissions to unravel the truth
Spawned umpteen conspiracy theories left people in awe.
First commission visited Japan in 1956 and got testimonies
From army surgeons conducting blood transfusion to Bose
But he succumbed to death on August 18, 1945, at Taipei.
Second commission carried its probe from 1974-78 and
Declared its inability to arrive on any definite conclusion.
The verdict of the third commission was quite amazing
It simply said Bose was dead, but didn’t die in plane crash
How and when? No answer in the absence of any proof.
Concluding report tabled in parliament in May 2006
Declaring that death was staged to facilitate his escape.
And there are lots of evidences showing that he was alive
The first being the soviet angle of Stalin and Molotov
Discussing as to whether Bose should remain in the country.
In 1991 a letter written by him found in the KGB archive
dated 1946 that he had safely reached the then Soviet Union.
And there are conspiracy theories abound on Bose’s death
Allegedly both the Congress leadership and the Government
Afraid of Bose’s possible return to India and his impact
None to stop him to come to power as worshipped by people.
He was posthumously awarded Bharat Ratna in 1992,
A highest civilian award but later withdrawn on the ground
As the Award committee failed to give evidence of his death.
Even the Taiwan Government confirmed of no plane accident
And U.S. Department of State supported the claim of Taiwan.
=====================================================
Second Place win:
Contest: Unsolved Mysteries by Carolyn Deveonshire
*Inspired and credits to the reports published on the web*
Haven where solicitous parents hover
over sick little ones and dispense advice to
mature ones; an emotional stronghold, not merely an
edifice one enters for physical shelter.
Sanctuary whose personality changes
with time, paralleling inhabitants' metamorphoses,
embellished with evidences of the pride and sentimentality
each possesses, those preferences each
thrives on as part and parcel of existence.
Houses become homes when those within love them and
one another--nurturing, respecting, mending,
maintaining that rapport and awareness
essential in relationships within and beyond walls.
July 5, 2017, entered in Brian Strand's Early July Premiere Contest
I am an Artist of sorts,
Of a magnificent artwork that cannot be bought,
A creation that takes a lifetime to complete,
A beautiful piece too sublime to compete,
Colours and shape that etched upon my canvas,
With brushes that hurt and scrape,
A timeless piece with mediums too diverse,
An emotional aesthetic of destiny and fate,
Each fragment, a memory of love and grief,
The outcome of lessons in life,
A detailed creation with no copy or brief,
Every stroke defining my strive,
Behold my artwork, revision of more to come,
Growth is the essence of my belief,
Scars may be just lessons to some,
But these are evidences of which I have lived.
Fariq Yusoff
20th November 2015
The world is Dying…
Mother Earth Is Crying...
"Man, man, man…
You have caused me much pain…
Even if I rain hailstones on him...He is still stubborn"...
"Man, Man, Man…
You cut down my Hard Grown Forests …Without replanting them,
You Plunder My Breasts spilling my precious Milk…
Keeping My Marine Offspring In Extinct Extinction,
You Flare Gas into the Air, Making this same Air your Main life
Source Thinner and Thinner, Destroying My Ozone layer"...
"You Manufacture harmful chemicals which you use as Refrigerants
And for foam production these same deplete the Ozone layer…
Hear ye! Hark ye! Woe betides you for burning my forests…
See the charred evidences...So Much Natural Life In Jeopardy…
Your Over-Zealousness has plundered the Wildlife I granted True Bliss…
They are now unsafe and close to extinction…
I will withhold my anger for a short time and Look on..
But When Thy Cup Of Sin Filleth..Not Even My Creator Will Withold My Fury..
I am MOTHER EARTH!"
His introduction is a roundabout in continuous turning
this criminal sees me as one whose deep thinking is lost
crazy assurances of converting a piece of grass to a garden
obese rewards only can be reached through a hidden maze
half evidences and my appetite slips through dark paths
it’s obvious, the trail of a scammer’s conversation stays sinuous
money, war, death, power, assistance: information in constant twisting
without harbouring greed, one cannot be trapped
wisdom cracks crookedness to put an end to this unwarranted puzzle
he’s gutted; not giving my account details was the wall.
Published: 6/25/2020
For "Maze- 10 word challenge poetry contest"
Sponsored by A Dear Heart
The 10 words: garden, maze, paths, sinuous, turning, trapped, puzzle, twisting, lost, wall
Placement: 3rd Position [6/30/2020]
There will be no secrets
Nowhere to hide
The left and right being outwitted
And little brother inside
The drones and data crawlers delve
Dreams and nightmares being ourselves
Compiled evidences mount concern
While mankind’s bridges burn
Our cyborg image never shown
Our accessories scent allured us
Hums of technology a pleasant moan
We breathed deep the aroma’s service
Bandwidth culture firmly in place
Everyman has no face
Ethnicity of avatar and clan of choice
Everyman selects a voice
The blind face themselves feeling
Something’s missing out of sight
Reaching for the cognitive ceiling
Surrendering for wrong and right
To machines constant drumming
The overfuture’s coming
Where there’s nothing left to do
And no difference from me to you
verse 1
When the world is bored of doing right or wrong;
And their placement in society been prolonged;
Hope has failed, the choice has been renamed;
You wallow in pain;
verse 2
When the price of your soul is numerated;
Your life and death struggles constipated;
I can't relate to this, I move on;
Can you relate to this song. . .
chorus
woo oh oh
Optimism is a mental attitude or world view.
This is what I believe in, this is how I choose;
This along with faith make my spirit resonate;
Oh, Lord I am of optimism faith
Oh, woo Oh, Lord I got Optimism and Faith
The substance of things hoped for;
The evidences of things not seen, Oh, God I believe...
verse 3
When the world is tied up in knots;
And the interrelationships with the races is not;
Hope has failed, the choice has been renamed;
You wallow in hate;
verse 4
When the peace in your heart has stopped;
Your inter man soul is lost ;
I can't relate to this, I move on;
Can you relate to this song. . . hallelujah
REFRAME;
A common idiom used to illustrate optimism
Stand on faith, just in this
Believe on it
Oh, Lord I am of optimism faith
Oh, woo Oh, Lord I got Optimism and Faith,
DEDICATED AND INSPIRED BY AND TO
"MYSTIC ROSE'"
One of Poetry Soups Poetess
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
12/01/17
from the anthology "God's Children New Poets, Poems and New Friends"
The flag glides upward in slow motion.
Days have the lucky teachers rehearsed
For this honorable day of the country.
We, children have sung until we go hoarse
No matter it was a sunny or a rainy day.
Rehearsals went on, missing classes and plays.
Yes, the great day is here today!
I proudly stand saluting the flag.
The official goes inspecting the parade.
Each child envies the other with whom is
Exchanged a polite little word and hand shaken.
I stand in my corner, not so lucky.
My eyes rest on the boxes of cakes and juice,
Neatly arranged by the Headmaster’s office
And my interest wavers from the day’s event.
The speech begins; I feel a face familiar was his.
I rack hard my brain keeping a fixed smile.
Years back he was news headlines,
Charged for corruption and misuse of office,
Then for sexual harassment on a minor, it was.
Charges were soon scratched for lack of evidences
And the mass had moved to some hotter issues.
A loud request breaks the monotonous speech,
I come out of my reverie “Children, give a big hand
To our distinguished guest, he is doing a great job!”
The claps echoed loud in the air.
“He is offering two dozen books to our school library!”
The claps grew louder and I clapped hard as I can.
“Three cheers for the country…”
“Hip Hip Hip Hurray!” (3 times)
“Three cheers for the guest of honour…”
“Hip Hip Hip Hurray!” (3 times)
Thrilled I nearly knock down my friend,
Raising my little flag and shout as loud as I can.
I muse with hungry eyes
“I wish I can be as important as him!”
Date:9/07/16
Contest: Embrace the line (s)