Best Falsehood Poems
Is there still a rainbow after the rain?
An unanswered message, life is full of lies
Darkness falls - like a thief steals the daylight
I get confused - hear demons whisper
It happened so suddenly, struggling to breathe
Tired of all the things that hurts
If life was an adventure I would love to dance
Everything around me is in a white blur - the truth?
20.07.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
In silence we admire the splendor of our universe,
surrounded by breathtaking scenery ever so diverse.
Golden Sun, pale moon and silver stars animate an artist's mind,
whilst a poet creates imagery pleasing eyes that are blind.
Whispers of serene stars echo like a melodic lullaby,
but some dark minds serenade in lyrics we can't identify.
We all become fragile reflecting a mourning butterfly,
but some souls adopt envious eyes clouded in ebony skies.
In a dream world of charm, jealousy is an undying misery,
resentment is regretful with fake tales veiled in mystery.
Some ink is invisible when scribbled across a canvas of tragedy,
especially when the tongue paints an image of insanity.
Sincerity is a charm of elegance only pure hearts emanate,
immune to fabricated falsehoods a storyteller will narrate.
lies
big or
little
they’re still wrong,
denying
breath of guilt thrives
burning slowly
social lubricant
enhance personal
misleading gain.
ripples in streams
flow outward
in the end
big or
meager,
lies!
7/27/2016
1-2-2-3-3-4-4-5-5-4-4-3-3-2-2-1
When falsehood is tasted as sweet,
the truth always savors as bitter.
Sanatan Dharma in Hinduism means
Universal religion, eternal truth, Ankh
Globally it means Universal law.
Religion is like the peel of banana
and spirituality is the banana.
Speak the truth which is preferable that
Intelligent one prefers it while the
Ignorant one selects the pleasurable.
Do not speak the truth to manipulate
Do not speak to please someone.
The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over;
Thus the wise say, the path to Salvation is hard
So begins The Razor’s edge of Somerset Maugham
Who visited India and met The Saint Raman.
All these leads to Yoga, so the wise one thinks.
When the senses are firmly reined in
From distractions a man is then free
for Yoga is the coming-into-being.
as well as the ceasing-to-be.
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Ninth Place winner
For the contest: Broad Horizons by Deborah Guzi Subject- Sanatan Dharma - Hinduism
========================================================
*The word Sanatan means ‘Eternal’ and Dharma means religion. In broader sense Dharma
means spirituality.
*Salvation is hard." taken from a verse in the Katha-Upanishad - 1.3.14. Maugham had
visited India in 1938 and met Ram, the great Saint of India.
*The words Hindu and Hinduism came from the usage of the term Sindhu. "Outsiders" who
encountered Sanatanists living near the Sindhu river in the western portion of Bharat (the
original and still used Sanskrit name for India) referred to them as "Sindhus" and their unique form of worship as "Sindhuism." Though there was a Sindhu river, Sindhu is actually a generic term for river, and many believe this term was used in a metaphorical sense implying the river or spirituality that flows through all thing–in other words, Sanatan Dharma. With this understanding, the terms Sanatan Dharma and Hinduism become interchangeable with an identical meaning.
Between Fear and Mirth sat Falsehood and Truth,
Who made away in a kissing-booth.
They snagged each-other in prickl'd vine,
Lit the scene in wax and wine.
As evening faded clear to dawn,
In her heart kind Truth true mourn'd.
For Falsehood thieved this memory-hers,
He stuff'd her head with larkspurs.
'This kind of thing I'm doing, I'm sure,
I'm sure it has been done before...
In this heart, this kind of heart, I'm sure
Lies a memory of this thing in mind,
Though I forget, in mind, I'm sure,
That the thing I forget is good and kind.
This I know, Yea, I spoke and heard,
That you who is kind remember these words.
This I know, I know Falsehood reclined,
In comfort and lux, with Truth beside.
This kind of thing I do, I know,
Was done again an era ago.'
Truth, Falsehood, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Verdad, Mentira
Note: I've tried in vain to upload, since November 2, 2013, the following poem: "Words uttered in a subdued voice in order to constitute a dedication, Translation of Carlos Bousono's poem: Palabras dichas en voz baja para formar una dedicatoria", so if Soupers wish to check on it, go to ZCommunications.org; OccupyPoetry.net, PoemHunter.com or PoemsAbout.com. Many thanks. T. Wignesan
(Quotation : « …sino esencia real que al tacto obliga », excerpted from Lope de Vega’s sonnet, « A un secreto muy secreto », 1634 in Bousono’s collection : Invasion de la realidad. Madrid : Espasa-Calpe, 1962. I’m not quite sure who the persona addresses : Lope de Vega, the most prolific playwright and sonneteer the world has known, some one else, the poet himself or the persona unto itself. Not that it matters, really ! T. Wignesan)
With your truth, with your falsehood, left alone,
with your incredible reality experienced,
your invented reason, your consumed
yet inexhaustible faith you raise high in the open ;
with the sadness in which you perhaps roll on
towards a haven you never felt attracted
with those enormous hopes destroyed,
the re-constructed like the sea its waves mend ;
with your dreams of love which never become
so really true like the sea suspired
with your over-charged heart which is born
dies and is re-born, resuscitates and dies, look
at the immensity of reality because there lies open
the source of all your truth and of all your falsehood.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Sadly, we may suffer a delusion
Understanding not the thing we conceive,
While functioning under the illusion
Everything is truly as we believe.
Perceptive minds do not always perceive
That often-told lies are still lies, indeed,
Truth is always borne on factual need
Easily recognized as veritas --
Virtuous, of good character, good seed
Free of falsity and meaningless dross.
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written January 30, 2022
for “D Forms – Dizain – Poetry Contest”
sponsored by Constance La France
fib is yet a fabric'd fiction
in th' mind whence tension
th' heart whereof upholds such fact?
or maybe not; for what lies ahead
never hear! hear! the inner dept
an cere beyond nerve can hold
for what once was con now its old
heard no more ; tho' hope it an't true
their hight yet indites a crew
Fighting falsehood with mere truth is
a losing proposition
The public clamors for the popular position
The underdog has it all his way today
yelling that America is evil paves the way
no matter that it’s pure, unadulterated fiction
Soon all law-abiding folks will be imprisoned
as anarchy realizes its wildest ambitions
Hyacinths in a trance, bewitched by hysteria,
Amid the shadows of a mythological eclipse.
Elixir of roseate red oozing out loose progeria,
In islands where the sea weeps azure breaks.
Amid the shadows of a mythological eclipse,
Daunting me subtly with its crimson smell.
In islands where the sea weeps azure breaks,
From golden dust to smooth bristly as well.
Daunting me subtly with its crimson smell,
The fading breaths of sinister falsehood.
From golden dust to smooth bristly as well,
On black graveyards to azure seas, we stood.
The fading breaths of sinister falsehood,
In the sunken bronze halls of antique disease.
On black graveyards to azure seas, we stood,
Teals are being tormented by nightly noise.
In the sunken bronze halls of antique disease,
Elixir of roseate red oozing out loose progeria.
Teals are being tormented by nightly noise,
Hyacinths in a trance, bewitched by hysteria.
Written: May 22, 2022
Fitting like second skin,
far better than what he
finds in the closet. Now
feathered, a Mardi Gras;
floating on dance of lies.
False hopes of romance masked,
For this man's lonely schemes.
humanity can live without planet earth
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without the sun
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without the universe
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without food
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without oxygen
but it should prepare for it
Humanity can live without other creatures
but it should prepare for it
Humanity can live without leadership
but it should not prepare for it
This is Nudity of truth
Falsehood of fallacy
Note: This poem is dedicated to all those who engage in hyper-complex thinking about human life
Her chin was resting between her knees
Her fingers were running smoothly through the sand
She didn’t notice my arrival
She just sat, staring out at the ocean
I could hear the drop of the hallowed cave
It echoed and faded at the foot of the fissure
The natural awning shielded us from the sun
As the waves lapped slowly at her feet and not much further from mine
“What a view,” I said, resting my weight against the rocky walls
She looked up at me as if coming from a dream
For a minute, she just sat there looking wretched
Heavy-handed, droopy mouth, bags under her eyes
But then she managed a smile; a weary smile
I returned it, then looked off at the ocean
The waves disappeared behind the horizon
And the sun fixed its reflection across the seascape
“Why are you here?” she asked with the effort of true curiosity
Squinting her eyes and pressing her face above her mouth
She’d been staring at the sun again
She could probably scarcely see me
I forced a smile and sat down close beside her
“The sun’s not going to help you, you know,” I said matter-of-factly
I continued to look at her as she buried her face in her legs again
Her dirty blonde hair wafting with the wind like meteor showers
“I know,” she said, muffling her speech
Looking away for a minute, I turned back to see her with tears in her eyes
“But what else will?” she genuinely asked, and softly sobbed
My mouth hung loose at her irregular directness
Eventually catching myself, I put my arm around her shoulder
“I will. We all will,” I said and smiled once again
In doing so she then relaxed her head on my shoulder
And for those few minutes, believed me fully
Somewhere deep within, she knew the truth though
And it would remain there, no matter how comforting my lies got
O! My sweet-heart come on now,
To be hugged in the ring of my arms,
For as soon as the sun descends,
My waiting eyes begin to count,
The stars in the darkening sky,
And your image began,
To waft along the gaze.
Somewhere on the pages,
Of the voluminous book of love,
I have read, it was written,
When all the blinking stars are enumerated,
Whatever we pray for,
Our prayers are granted,
Our wishes are realized.
But in your case it seems nothing,
But falsehood,
For my eyes begin to tire,
Praying lips begin to exhaust,
And there is no mark of your appearance.