Best Exactness Poems
The poem below mirrors the tribute featured in the video (click the YouTube tab above to view). It was created by a dear friend — a poet, musician, and video artist — who walked through a very dark time and, through grace, found his way back.
The video is more than just a song — it’s a story of survival and soul. I encourage you to watch it all the way to the end and, if you feel moved, explore the YouTube comments — you may even recognize a few voices from this very community.
If you think it might help someone, consider sharing.
Sometimes, a single song can reach a person right when they need it most.
Divine Intervention
Not just words sent soaring to the sky
it’s a linking bridge between a soul’s quiet cry.
Resounding to places we are yet to see,
Carrying courage where it’s needed to be.
Affirmations don’t require ego’s exactness,
Whispered, or spoken aloud in respected reverence
Only love can break barriers to enter with grace,
On a sacred thread through the Cosmic Space
It shifts something deep within this spirit of mine.
It doesn't twist fate or dim the light that shines
‘Cause Intervention intercedes guiding The Sign
Inducing sense of purpose in The Grand Design
There was such beauty where I lived
Past landscape my father designed so long ago...
And I remember Mountain Street;
The sounds of early Summer all around the house..
The unencumbered freedom
And the taste of clear, pure water
Stolen from a neighbor's well hidden behind the windmill.
And just past your Poppa's verdant lawns
A gentle wildness was allowed.
He loved the earth
And let me wander as I would have anyway
Straight on those hidden paths I knew
Into my secret place..
I sat between the here and now
To watch the Summer's fullness edging closer;
Surrounded by my favorite friends:
The wild bluberry bushes.
My special place, alive and rambling on
In lush perfection for a lonely little girl
Covered with freckles.
My friends, covered with their sapphire treasures -
The size and weight which bore them down
Were offered as a gift to me;
Their color: electric blue and perfect...
We were great friends in all seasons..
And we made promises to each other
In the deepest heart of Summer,
Just before the last years of my childhood
And your Poppa's dreams...
They whispered of a great gift to be given
In a future where their time had passed.
I could hardly remember the exactness of the promise
Until I looked into your eyes when you were 2 days old.
Did you ever wonder, my beloved,
The joy in my recollection
Of the gift so sweetly promised,
And why I call you
Blueberry Eyes...
I love you, daughter mine.
A habitation hanging on a pole of love
circled by an orbit
of calm and tenderness.
Unto its walls;
purity and goodwill stick.
Floats on water and edged by the mountains
architectured by exotic plants.
Colour and beauty
mixed with the interplay of nature
as both the living and the inanimate
interact in ordered pattern and harmony
A place where time
has no definition
as so many todays
make up centuries
with nothing like yesterday or tomorrow.
It rains water in the morning
and in the evening, milk
with satisfaction and strength
the content of every marrow.
Everlasting joy;
you need not seek.
Bountiful kindness,
enjoyed even by a shadow.
Beautiful gardens and animals in diversity
forming a clique
as even the Lion's breast
becomes a succulent pillow.
Every being that breath becomes meek.
Unending peace
clinging unto you
like a lonely widow.
All in one simple existence
hardly to believe.
Is it the socialite and the geek?
Or the Eagle in dialogue
with the sparrow?
Are all rare happenings never to let go.
A land void of unpleasant states
where you can neither
find the weak nor the sick.
Equality and happiness is its constitution
with no one down graded to a minnow.
A site full of exactness and perfection,
a serenity edifying and accurate,
an atmosphere so complete and hundred percent.
Where in the world would this place be?
If not in my dream.
A glorious yellow sun
hot enough to burn, to
Scotch all life out of
existence. Yet if this
tremendous ball of gas
is of further distance into
the vast. Our beautiful blue
planet would be like a giant
marble, a ball of frozen glass.
This magnificent feat of exactness
is not by chance, look up take a
glance. Its perfection, perfect love
from above.
It was the quiet that reasoned
With my mind –
As I continued to trudge
In the mundane –
Walking alongside me
Was only I –
Not a shadowed version,
But an exactness –
“But for why beats my heart”
I asked her –
A snicker the reply
Exotically dull –
“Slowly, I die”
My thoughts spoke –
From the neglect
She added –
I sat down to face her
Eyes of hollow –
Detached yearn,
Disconsolate spirit –
I wept for her heart –
“It is not meant for you,”
I reassured her dream,
The quiet did not reason –
I comb thy noblesse, in that some lost hurt
might bring thee sorrow, choosing some avert -
a random's borrow to then so divert,
God's asking of our faith, to so invert
our courage, from His marrow of exert.
I comb the gray to know my own alert,
in functioning abuse from its framework.
Would guide me forward then to not berserk
my soundness, in thy Holy needs' concert.
I comb exactness, from its true cost's blurt,
an over action of confining skirt,
that harbors definition by insert.
I comb resourcefulness from feelings curt,
to truth's contraction, without haste's overt.
That Godly sanctioned glory not desert,
of calling's minded motion, nor revert -
I comb my love for thee, that tangled worth,
that faith and understanding give new birth!
specificity in poetry
narrows down possibility.
With this nonet, I portray
my theme as a word stream.
See it now narrow
as it flows with
exactness
to the
end.
April 17, 2019
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s
elroy elephant embodies extemporaneous entrails with ease
ellie eggplant embroideries endometriosis, exacting it to its knees
emma emissary’s elderly eels expect eyes to show off their ESPs.
etta elegance extravaganza excites earthworms, electrician’s tease.
edward expectations entices earaches edging out evergreen trees.
elise, edwina and eloise eagerly expect estimated exactness in sprees.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s.
I wonder about me sometimes.
Elusive yet full of potential.
The very essence of life as we know it.
We could be an ocean if we wanted,
Yet enjoy our individuality down to the last
drop of water.
Always living by "It is what is"
but never test our resolve
for even in death we'll be loving long.
I understand him completely.
He is my reflection
and the hardest of lessons
Why I am, the way that I am.
I get it son.
We carry ourselves like we don't have time,
but relish the exactness of war's totality.
So don't instigate
our faces don't camouflage well.
Almost like polar opposites
wanting to remain untouched
because when moved
every piece in heaven
and every point on earth
will feel it.
Rushing like a flood or tranquil as a pond,
every molecule of our mind reverberates
with creativity
rippling across eternity
undulating God's will.
Now, I'm back to I don't know
With a mind that won't be still.
New*
forms-
with old
rhythms in
a precise image.**
*hiku-tanka-American cinquain/cinqku/crystalline-lanterne-
** NOTABLY direct - few ( if any)adjectives -semantic exactness
Its beauty lies in symmetry
An exactness of natural harmony
In particles of these variables.
Composed of possibility.
A slope made from just a touch
Seen in this, an altered form,
Found using a point given,
There is unique serenity in such.
Curves that flow in one direction
Or test limits of reality
In places considered undefined
In the course of numerical selection.
A chain of Independence
That implies continuity
In an equation made for two,
Shows the equality of this dance.
An overwhelming feeling, aha, exhilaration.
I have for higher mathematical computation.
Form:
Turning the delicate phrase
No word or words can describe
No music
No exactness
No sublime utterance
Senses 'The Artist of the Beautiful' but
Oh such velvety finite intentions
Such a straining for gifts
Purloined gifts
Only imagined through history
Gifts flitting like some silken tansparent Tinkerbell
Forever avoiding touch
To turn the delicate phrase
Body gone numb
In fruitless meditation
Wandering the gone-colorless
Searching for hue
In such remote places
Searching for words for music
Vaguely outside
Yet still coursing the veins
To turn the delicate phrase
At such a time
Does dissonance intrude
To swirl the addled mind
The dogs of hell object
Who may spoil inspiration with a cough
Something about heaven
At such a time
Withholds its perfect voice
After drawing a self-portrait,
I want you to believe
that I am not in it.
The style of rebellion cannot be judged by
blurbs only.
A chunk of refusal,
a narrow escape,
and thin veiled hysteria,
all go for a parody of exactness,
which had been really absent from our lives.
Can you find out
who is betraying whom ?
where the tears are migrating ?
And where the smiles have gone ?
Instead of brutalizing,
I care for the tender torches
moving in the dark bush.
A precise definition is needed
for self-denial of molten lava
which moves like a river
but does not grab the heights.
SATISH VERMA
Form:
For years our family has tried to make candied apples.
Most of our valiant attempts have ended up as a disaster.
Mine were always the worst, or the funniest.
Depending on the way you look at things.
I usually choose funny.
My daughter should have been an engineer.
She is all about precision and exactness.
She can create a candied apple that deserves its own billboard.
My husband and I marvel at this ability.
Neither of us fathom where she inherited such a gene.
She must be a throwback.
Ancients’ cognizance of Circles “all be it” acquired
knowledge...understood through expression
moving heaven to earth, hither to yon...
questions posited unceasingly, opposing thots
same side of incontrovertible proof felt not seen...
women sang songs reigning from the heavens
regaling self and others bequeathed with stirrings
internal knowing, sounds chime of longing
women dancing, circling round and round
star’s patterned exactness...reflecting heaven...
movement roused by passion...prevailing wisdom
carried forth by cellular division of another type,
we don’t altogether call to mind why...
impending assembled structures of activation appear
Circles of old, Circles of new...always replying
marking me, marking you...will you join me in this
now new, Circling lives forever within you!