Best Expedient Poems
IMAGINATION
Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation;
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.
In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision
of only half a picture without reflection.
It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny
warily made under duress of immediacy
trying to conceive a canvas framed
by the hand of God.
It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light,
that we clearly notice how the prism
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets
different than the realm of visionary colors.
Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture.
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.
INTERPRETATION:
When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind.
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on.
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision
of a thought picture barely perceived within.
When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been.
The choices we make are usually expedient
and we struggle to determine
what it is that we really want.
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities.
We see what could be and would like to be
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward
to a brighter tomorrow.
CAK 5-23-2103
In the deep,
I have acquaintenances
With whom I share a common goal,
Intimate friends,
Visionary souls.
I swim in the darkly mirth
And beyond the yawning abyss.
I watch by night for the vulnerable waif
That might find me too, remiss.
For I am here for one brief spark
In Time’s expedient flight,
Just swimming in the darkness,
While moving toward the Light.
When I see him standing there,
My heart starts to ruthlessly pounding
I decide to say a silent prayer
Asking God for His expedient blessing
Thoughts of our time together
Create pictures inside my mind
But I refuse to grow bitter
Because I know love is blind
The memories quiet my dreams
Of all that might have been with him
True love isn’t all that it seems
The sparkle in my eyes grows dim
He walks over and smiles toward me
I feel the heat rise in my face
Hoping that he won’t see
I pray for God’s amazing grace
Before he has the chance to say hello
I turn and walk out the door
Refusing to go with the flow
Realizing that I want more
Our time together is in the past
Times filled with hope, faith and love
But the memories will forever last
They are gifts from God above
©2014 by Regina Riddle
In the near future, I am going to add it all up into one big sum.
In the meantime, I am going to gather and collect my own space.
I will sift through seeds or weeds and present an enormous case.
But for sure I will hold onto every single yellow chrysanthemum.
In the near future, I am going to roll it all up sealing it by my thumb.
In the meantime, I am going to sit here with every turned about face.
I will drift through time rewinding the hands back to a God of Grace.
But for sure I will give the world a place my heart is triumphing from.
Quickly, I will come to you,
And instantly I will be gone.
But injustice shall never do.
Nor shall a lie be my spawn.
Or at the least not on my expedient silver polished dime,
And certainly not while sitting on destiny’s perch in time!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
The soul is dead in passing
The spirit lost its belonging
Running out of Ancestors peripherals
Last breath of thee, a gasp
Trees are throwing out branches
Thinking of a single brain
Diamond things hard to break none
“Too hard to pour”
“Too poor break”
Virgins in Attica
Singleton a mother of a *****-
Itching
Specifics specifying black or white
Simply extending his lips
Smiling less for laughter
Toys and spoken speeches of these
History, to tell his story
Tell his theory
Virgins in Attica
Widow falling to a window
Washing was what Washington?
Dreaming of America
But land on an African soil
New York City was city
She fishing dollars and gold-
Fireworks
Virgins in Attica
Kwa Mayimayi lets find strong a Medici’s
Medicine to behold the earth
Kwamhlab’ yalingana
The earth is not enough
Followed tracks of my roots
Heard no song though
He promised bundles of prayers
A land of milk, honey-
But a global warming watering none
Virgins in Attica
Finance marrying marriages
Love put aside for chemical tests
Chemistry of a super witch
Crafting specialties of art
Artist in Attica
Mother Mary gave birthing to a love child
I’m a bustard
Adam, Eve figuring out *****-
Virgins in Viagra
Virgins in Attica
She just a distraction
No expedient in experience
No feelings
No emotions
No last for lust
Virgins in Attica
THE TRENCHES : the pure truth so colorful, so to bring out the beast in a beast; philosophy, spirituality and dreams in priggish ways a fifth chapter.
I think ill make something new!
Something somewhat different with the words i spew!
Something about lost love to be found.
That will end up driven right into the ground.
Or in a box called lost but not found.
Or make something about death so hollow and sad.
So sad it will move the hardest prison grad.
Graduet.
Get it?
But anyways maybe not.
Maybe ill write a story of a baller getting shot.
But yeah ill probly not.
Whats on your mind though?
Have you got the time to find the time then let it go.
Just grab a notebook and let it flow.
Its like riding on a breeze nice and slow.
Like flying a kind real low.
Its easy unless its not simple.
Like when you use big words to sound obedient.
Which only rymes with words like expedient.
I dont even know what that means, i just threw it into the ingredients.
Sounds like a word thats rather deviant.
I like to build my poems like a subservient structure.
Im loosing it so bad my brains about to rupture.
This write sucks it doesnt make any sense.
Hence.
The reason im on the damn fence.
Becuase nothing i seem to do.
Seems to make sense.
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
Goal Setting and Bed Wetting
A goal someone set was in bed not to wet
And the closer it seems he was sure to get
About self felt more comfortable and at ease
Realizing only God is one who he should please.
There are things that determine a goal
You set for yourself either young or old
May be physical or made for the mind
Always expedient while well-designed.
When a goal you will establish and set
Surely are delighted when it is met
Causing you to stand out in a crowd
Walking among people feeling proud.
Soon to each fact you became resigned
Another new goal will eventually find
Fit for you and placed before your eyes
Accomplishing goa will start to realize.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
The heaven they preach
Is no haven to man but hell,
Their tongues sweeter than honey
Who can resist the melody
When they paint their world to taste in rainbow colors
Singing glory glory glory
Preaching the word according to their world
One-heart less
Astute in their chicanery, they have a face
Colorfully charming as a chameleon
The bait be-jeweled with treasure
Their words up to the measure
Its a highway of friendship and promises to the trap,
Hell a dead end to their ploy
They know the way to the promised land
Where poverty is a story to be told
They lead the way to the land
The land leads the way to the cage
Where the promised heaven is sure hell
From the cage,
At their expedient behest
Your labor leads them to their desires afar
The line is cast
The bait is set,
The hungry cage is salivating for prey.
The drum is struck
For our appreciation of sound
Venal as devious in their ways,
Astute in their chicanery, they have a face
Colorfully charming as a chameleon,
Their tongues sweeter than honey
As they paint green
The pastures they wish greener
Acclamatizing to our heart's desire for better
Rank Has Its Privilege (RHIP)
Privilege is preferred by a rank.
Privilege is gained by respect.
Privilege is profound depending on source.
Privilege provides a way of looking at things.
Privilege can be perturbing at times.
Privilege is great when it is a Presidential Order on gun control.
Privilege to live on His earth He provided was provided by God.
Privilege is comparatively a way of perceiving two or more objectives.
Privilege can be taken personally at times.
Privilege is politically expedient when fine tuned and objective.
Privilege taken out of place is sure to result in conflict.
Privilege should be result of exposing a purpose.
Privilege was not proposed to be taken lightly.
Privilege has a profile and characteristics that should be thoroughly understood.
Privilege when taken presumptuously should only be done cautiously.
Privilege to Trump is something that he will never understand.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Now someone help me enter it into the acostic poetry contest.
It was a long summer and the bees did their job,
For the trees were filled with apples, hanging like little knobs.
Oh, those orbs, they looked so delicious and red,
I gathered so many, I had to put the bushels in the shed.
They would be the source of a season of treats,
And anyone who wanted, could have their fill of the eats.
Cakes were baked, Crisps were done too,
I even tried my hand at fresh applesauce, before the season was through.
I did apple salads and baked apples as well,
But it was the pies that got adulation, so of those I will tell.
Paring and slicing in an expedient way,
The apples were ready, shortly before midday.
Then with a mixture of flour, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg,
I make them into a filling, that would even make a king beg.
I've tried so many kinds of pastry to fill,
From filo and puff, to rolled out traditional.
And I have to say whilst patting myself on the back,
They all taste great, flavor they do not lack.
The traditional pie is the one most people enjoy,
I have tried to improve on it, since I was a boy.
I learned how to make it at Mom's left hand,
Roll out the crust, the filling never canned.
Pats of butter on top before you cover,
Make for a pie that will be loved world over.
Then to seal the pie, brush it with melted butter, and cut some slits,
Pop it in the oven, and just wait for it.
The tantalizing aromas just make me wild,
Just as they did, when I was a child.
The moment the pie comes out I can see,
That another triumph has been made perfectly.
The dome is golden, the apples are done,
Now, only to wait for it to cool, before we can enjoy some.
Some like it ala mode...with ice cream you know,
But I'm a plain Jane, and for me it's not the right combo.
So I just have a slice that's warm on the plate,
And will my appetite, begin to sate.
It is one of my favorite desserts,
Of this I will always my willingness assert.
The only thing that troubles me,
Is all the bushels left to peel, when I have time free.
But I will do them, and into the freezer they are thrust,
Waiting for me to them into another pie, as so often I must.
On your fertility, the enemy may burrow
causing so much hurt, pain and sorrow
God is merciful and caring, not expedient.
It may seem like torture, but it’s your ingredient
to build up grit as you stay obedient.
Joy and peace elsewhere, don’t borrow
even before the sure victory,
you’ll never be wounded by the arrow.
The approbation for approval of a bountiful elicitation.
An evocation that is a stimulant.
As it calls up (draws forth) a particular class of behavior.
Thus, we draw out an altruism for the philanthropic devotion,
To the said principles; henceforth, being compliant and acquiescence.
We follow tradition accepting standards and agree.
Let's reinstate and make a conception and promote.
Ethical characteristics of self-effacing and resourceful ingredients;
Mild unpretentious attentiveness of an expedient plan.
A creation of to pass from one state to another.
Replacing the incongruity to find the true direction.
A change that could help streamline a new threshold
This our our nation to endure the many wonderful opportunities.
There can be great tasks ahead.
Allow information to be clear and in a few words;
Brief, but comprehensive.
Embrace the forward notion of staying appreciative,
And positive for the great people and things in this world.
A prospect of the derivative to find the real direction.
[Continued from Part One]
The youngsters were oblivious— so entranced were they
in their childhood amusements and entertaining play.
That door was small and narrow to leave the family home.
And, oh, their lives were fragile, like bubbles on the foam!
These children viewed the burning house as a safe abode,
although the conflagration seemed ready to explode.
Engrossed in every pleasure their little lives could get,
they were unconscious of the blaze and its mounting threat.
The elder, in the meantime, was consumed with worry.
He had to make them flee the mansion in a hurry.
Hence, the man ran back inside and then began to shout
that they were in great peril and quickly must get out.
He pointed to the fire, plus how it swiftly spread,
and sought to warn his offspring that soon they would be dead
unless they ceased their merriment, heeded his alarm…
The father could not bear it, if they should suffer harm!
Nonetheless, in spite of all the elder’s coaxing cries,
the children paid no mind to those admonitions wise.
Thoroughly absorbed in their diversions and delight,
they just did not believe him, nor had they any fright,
nor wish to stop their playing and hastily take flight.
Yes, the house was burning; still they scarcely saw the sight.
They were so immersed in fun, blind to their own blindness,
they could not see that his pleas stemmed from loving-kindness.
Those children had no dread and were sadly unaware
of what destiny lay in store, if they stayed in there.
How would they avoid such an excruciating fate?
The flames were closing in on them; it would be too late!
The man could not abandon them to be burned alive.
He had to find a clever way, so they would survive.
The father, wrung with agony, wondered what to do.
Such awful pain lay ahead— somehow he must get through.
He grappled with the problem and racked his brain at length.
Was there some expedient means of sufficient strength
he could use to save all the children that he cherished,
rescue every single one fast, before they perished?
[Continued in Part Three]
~ Harley White
There is a common mistake
that many people make
what they think is wisdom
is only their opinion.
One may know the facts
and even trace its tracts
but it really may be fiction
wrapped in real conviction.
Opinion is self centric
although it be authentic
wisdom is whats best
what all parties may attest.
Wisdom will bring peace
though all will not be pleased
it may be inconvenient
but will always be expedient.
What is the true source
where wisdom has come forth ?
A Man who became Earthen
For Wisdom is a Person.