Best Exerted Poems
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
*I feel this poem speaks of poetry, the reason we are all here. To find and share our muse, to be inspired and grow together in poetry. It also was a step out of my comfort zone for me as this was an early write of mine where I tried a few new ideas.
Once glorious, but now rusting buildings, lined every dusty road.
Somehow everywhere clung the smell of cow dung.
My heavy bag, a giant rucksack,
Most of it I shipped right back.
I thought there wasn't much glitz or glamour,
And fought rough in a bit of a clamour.
Tuk-Tuk's going tut-tut, the hawkers piercing eyes and traders raise the price.
Welcome to Mumbai!
First, I met Tony, who promised to show me,
All the sights and sounds and where stuff might be found.
He exerted Rupees and expertly duped me,
But for a guided tour, I'd have expected to pay more.
My first "queue" for train tickets,
I was newly in the thick of it,
Could they organise a straight line?
They're walking on the train line!!
The infusion of livestock into the traffic,
My confusion and shock, all of this madness,
Each to their own, but, who the hell planned this?
But first impressions are often misleading,
Best get some rest, a wash and a feeding.
An open mind, that beliefs, often null and blind,
Just might find, can lead toward the fuller life.
From the mountains to the Thar desert,
Everywhere, I found was rather pleasant,
Lived like a king, paid like a peasant.
The colours everywhere and flowers worn in hair,
The spices on display and price you have to pay,
Surprises me to say, she'd grown upon me more each day.
And I had five months to travel through,
I bid a sad goodbye India, I'll see you real soon.
On scented breeze, she'd whispered to me,
As her saffron voice caressed my ears,
She hinted with ease and flickered desire,
While cinnamon curls lingered from her hair,
and nutmeg sweetened my dreams.
`
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
May 24 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Nehemiah 4-7
Key Verse – Nehemiah 4:9 Nevertheless we made our prayer unto our God, and set a watch against them day and night, because of them.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO ANSWERS OUR PRAYERS
MADE UNTO HIM
Praise be to God for answering our prayers made unto Him for our:
Cause clinging to His covenant
Call cleaving to His commandments
Concerns carved with our commitment
Clamor correcting us against carnal cravings
Cry for His consoling comfort and commendation
Nehemiah 5:9 Praise be to the Lord for His admonition that
we walk in the fear of God midst:
Evil restraints
Exerted restrictions
Enemies’ reproaches
Efforts resulting in reprimand
Exhortations reminding repentance
Nehemiah 6:14 Praise be to the Saviour for thinking about us:
Reviving our spirituality
Replenishing our sustenance
Refining our stewardship service
Rejoicing our serene salvation-status
Responding to our supplication with His strength
Nehemiah 7:5 Praise be to the Almighty for putting His will
in our hearts for our:
Victorious faith
Vitalized fueled firmness
Valiant favourable fervency
Vigor to fight foes by His flame
Virtuous values toward faithfulness-flow. Amen!
May 24, 2024
Question my mannerisms, do you cause me
Kindness, should be shown to no friend
Reciprocation, will their beliefs differ
In vain, will all my acts become
As if trust, can be nurtured by none
Relationships prove worthless
A resident was my heart, of yours
Care, did you show little
Every deceitful word you spoke, your actions I forgave
Though limitations, are there to all
My temperament had I subsided well
Anger, had you extracted by force
Help another, was I prepared
My time to you, did I devote
Though ungrateful, you proved
To wound me through blame, you chose
Fall did I, at gravity's feet
Your eyes unmoved, by my downed sight
Potential, did I try to see in all
To be a good samaritan, I had tried
Though it is with humanity, that humility is eradicated
No matter my attempts to encourage
An ant opposing a boot, will I always be
My disappointment, have you only proved
To be a fool, I strived for you not to be
Your success, did I crave to see
Though chase my own tail, did you force me to
Exerted all my energy in runs, you showed no care
My belongings were not close, you manipulated my belief
A fool of me, did you purposely create
Murder as I watched, would be of no pain
The bullet I would provide, for whoever wished a shot
Though my eyes, saw little through the opacity
Your sharp hands, had your touch guised
In my fellow beings, was my faith strong
Through your blade, was it all lost
In humanity, was my faith a sight to behold
Though anger did you only ask through disappointment
To make a fool of me, your unseen blade chose
There was this smart ass way back in high school,
sharp as a fiddle but so unpredictable;
he ran the school paper and worked as editor,
you might say he’s intelligent and that’s for sure.
Well, this man liked to dabble in prose and poetry
but assumed he could be just as good in carpentry;
thought that talent was transferable, the darn old fool,
and quickly grabbed the nearest basic manly tools.
So he set out in his new-found trade and pushed his luck,
grabbed some wood, a hammer and few nails from the shack,
then proceeded to the front yard under a tree
to start building an outdoor bench for all to see.
He exerted and sweated for a week or so,
it soon became obvious he had a tough time too;
but nothing could stop him from being macho,
you have got to give it to him, Mr. Can-Do.
When at last his labor was over and he's had his fun,
I burst out laughing when I saw what he had done;
for instead of a bench the rotten carpenter
accidentally built a lousy rocking chair!
*****
I try to understand
What it was like
For you
When your world
Consisted of
You can't
You can't
Sit at the front of the bus
You can't drink from that fountain
You can't look that man in the eye
When you speak to him
It's yes sir
How high sir
You can't
You can't
You can't better your life
You can't go to that school
You can't be friends with that boy or girl
Then you Rose
Parked yourself
In a front seat of a bus
sat with quiet strength
With an immovable spirit you said no
Enough
I deserve more
I demand your respect
You drank from freedoms fountain
You exerted you
Took what was
Changed it to what is
What is
Is because of you and the many
That fought
not with hands
but galvanized spirits
The call of yes we can
Yes we can
You became part of the we
Participants
Livers of the dream
Doors opened
A crack
Some still try to hold you back
Yet you know
You can
Those glorious words
Fought for
Earned
Deserved
Finally
Thankfully
Taken
Realized
That chance at a better life
Your piece of American Pie
Your life
Rooted in
You
Yes you
Yes you can!
You will
You have
Finally you have a home
a country
That belongs to you
It’s the pressure exerted by the earth’s
atmosphere at any point given,
such acceleration and value of
standard of this word we live in.
The weight of the air increases
then starts to decrease,
then the pressure of the molecules
above the surface cease.
It’s like drinking from a straw,
while sucking our lungs expand,
then the air in the straw slowly drains
into the lungs as they withstand.
Then the air pressure in the straw
decreases and the pressure does force
the water to move up into the mouth,
there’s continuation henceforth.
Another example is blowing up an
elastic balloon with a suppressor,
the air pressure inside is higher
the atmospheric pressure.
The elastic expands due to the
pressure being equal in all directions,
then when the balloon bursts the air
escapes making a pressure connection.
There are many ways to see
the wonder of this phenomenon,
the earth’s atmosphere releases
pressure and it goes on and on.
Atmospheric Pressure
September 4, 2017
Naked copulation embedded this one,
Before one imagined or everyone,
When the night was mostly savaged
And the light was damaged bandaged.
Blessed where the ones given a son,
Under a circular, an heir on the run
A sun that insist to be the only to shine
Transcended moves, in their eyes he always was in line.
Of everything, in anything, blood gun
Penetrated melanin, anger that weighs a ton
Ravaged a girl’s heart from denied love
Her blood covered her mind with a glove.
Energy exerted on her could no more stun
A winding period of torture, a moment for fun
A hiding when demur to a marital agreement
Denied knowledge, freedom of expression and all for her that was meant.
Sunk in thoughts, caged panther, her time held for someone
Caged panther, I became, with a slow motion that took a spun
I escaped the last days of inbound hostage, mind muscled and heart footed
My own family had a vision of my success, from the start, booted.
An exuberant orchestra fellow,
Over exerted the stroke on his cello,
His bow flew like a spear
Zooming into a posh lady's ear,
The recital was stopped by her bellow.
An opera scout looking on,
Heard the posh lady's bellowing song,
He signed her up to appear
So the whole world could hear,
Now she sings for an operatic throng.
In this moment, writing despite a headache, stuffed nose, blurred vision
Dry throat, exhaustion
Heart beats pounding, over exerted
As it fights the virus/infection attacking
A very weak body
As the moments fly, erratic thoughts swirl
In a moment then disappear
Then a new thought emerges from the thick mucus
Sticking, it tries to pull forth into motivation
Sucked down into a swirling fatigue
In this moment, the remnants of a cold????
Sinusitis maybe sucks the joy down the drain
Written: December 28, 2014
Author: Sara Kendrick
Contest: In The Moment
Sponsor: Poetry Destroyer A
Carlos Bousono’s poem : Recordando a pastora imperio
for Damaso Alonso
(Poem published in the collection : Metaphora del desafuero, 1988, and dedicated
to Damaso Alonso, who exerted on Carlos Bousono an avowed influence and
patronage, concludes my own present tribute to the Maître. I confess I had not
read Bousono’s poems – I may have glanced at a couple of poems when I first
bought the Espasa-Calpe anthology some years ago – before I began translating
them on October 16, 2013.)
I have always thought that in the state of sudden immobility
of the immemorial dancer of flamenco the entire dance
is concentrated of a sudden in this posture
of an instant,
under the weight of centuries,
all of its foregoing agitation,
in such a way as in its absolute fixation is to be found
its passing and its minute ad mysterious simulation :
the flight of sea gulls over the sea, their avid and sudden swoop
onto the prey,
and she herself, the flamenco dancer herself, becomes in that instant,
like the form most refined and pure
of such an incomprehensible paradox : velocity and paralisation,
becoming more dense in the procès
between Aquiles and parsimony,
or the tortoise and despair…
No, there is no différence,
because to differentiate hère is to make a descent,
while here there is but an ascent.
And has the flamenco dancer understood suddenly
that to make a move
is an intolerable imperfection
for whoever aspires to the most arduous achievement,
to the supreme compromise with the fire in the beyond
and the surprise, sacred and full of rejoicing between
the fresh flames,
a compromise, then,
with the truth of the highest form of living,
and so the dancer of flamenco
remained for this reason without moving
in a difficult equilibrium
to see if that position, without touching it,
in not moving any of the pièces,
without turning a page, without causing the hinges to friction,
could by chance last, keep enduring there,
on the razor’s edge,
maintain itself on the head of a pin’s unlikely verticality,
balance itself on tip-toes, without breathing, each instant
succeeding the other,
on the verge of the abysm itself,
earth and boulders coming loose,
and one after another in succession, and in succession…
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
You were out shoveling snow
Exhausted you lay down for a rest
Heart was exerted too much
You had no idea that the end was near
You were healthy and robust
Never heeded heard warnings
I hope you felt no pain
As you drew your last breath
News of your death came
Massive heart attack in your sleep
Denial and shock registered first
Anguish and sorrow followed
Unbearable pain, heart shattered
Scalding tears, immense grief
Unwelcome change, life altered forever
A daughter left without her dad
Dreams are productions
Of utmost longing, greatest hope,
Performed by friends we wish we had
Where imagination makes us cope.
Waking pulls the curtains
House lights on, seats deserted
Eyes now focus but darkness begins
All meaningful energy long exerted.
Reality is the nightmare
That waits for us to surrender
Not to sleep, but to truth
That the beating hearts still render.
So go ahead and shoot me
Right between my eyes.
Bury me deep in suffering soil
Where soulless humanity lies.
Then the pain of unfulfilled dreams
And a world full of hatred and war
Will no longer haunt my slumbering life
Behind death's impenetrable door.
I believe Earth is much better than Heaven.
I’ve done it, it’s over, look there, I said it.
But before you get angry with me, or uptight,
read now this poem, and I’ll explain why.
If Heaven is what I’ve perceived it to be,
it means that all that we want we receive.
That our wildest tastes and most passionate dreams,
come true in a flash, any time that we please.
Now that sounds quite good, and I’ll admit that,
it would be a delight to wish for, and get back.
-All the things we could never attain on the Earth,
but before you get built up, consider this first;
How fun would it be, how great, how fulfilled,
would you feel if you could control lust at will?
If you could command all desires at once,
where would accomplishment have to come from?
What sense of content, complete satisfaction
could you gain from a wave of your hand and it’s done?
How could a Soul recognize it’s fulfilled,
when a goal is completed and no sweat is spilled?
And the Heart is made silent, there’s no sense in beating,
there’s no work, no need, it’s basically cheating!
I know that you know exactly what I’ve worded,
-that a prize is made sweeter when effort’s exerted.
And that’s why the Earth is much better than Heaven.
I’ve done it, it’s over, look there, I said it.
But before you get angry with me, or uptight,
remember, it’s hard and it’s tricky sometimes,
-it’s unfair and it's prone to give you downsides,
-it may test you or push you or block out the light,
-but the Earth is the greatest gift in my eyes,
and we all have it for life!