Best Forward Looking Poems


Premium Member Sankofa In Safranbolu

‘Sankofa’ In 'Safranbolu'

This bird from Ghana’s legends flies forward looking backward
                      In the Twi language twinned with indigenous souls and wisdom
the feathered friend suggests to go back and get it and I suppose
                     some fly backwards while looking ahead but then life is not only
Chronos but 'Kairos' with the meter entwined and composed

At this precise moment not alone in this moving instant it waves
                     and oscillates conjoining what was and will be when the present
is the past in a flash and one cannot step into the same river again
              yet the future is shaped by the past the here and now a 'Kairometer'
transcending artefacts and boundaries into ‘truths’ and reality
	
The bird flies and time flows back and beyond near and far
                                            further on wings and pinions with roots at heart

In ‘Safranbolu’ the ancient Ottoman town on the Black Sea Coast
                              and thus close to Ghana in real time place and connection
the old man had been tending the clock in the tower both man and
                                   the turret free standing and wise still present and one
‘Seventy years’ as he explained pendulum hands and the wheels

What memories pride mechanics precision preserved aspiration and
                   dignity flying into the face of the clock and the distortions of time

Mustafa had climbed those steps so often had rung the bell
                             oiled the time keeper had not forgotten a day of his duties
had become one with the time piece and stood still many times
                                 in awe of monument and pacing the sleepy old town yet
he flew forward so peacefully looking back in retrospect and respect

He has watched birds history duration impermanence imprinting the
                   meaning of a life worthy of living in honour of what is the present

20th November in all past and future revisited

Grandmother

"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts."

			W. Wordsworth
								

I am your grandmother.
I spent 24 years making
parenting mistakes, so I think
I'm pretty well trained now,
pretty worn down, open-minded
and accepting.
I think we'll be good friends.

At sixteen, your mother 
said she was having a baby 
and held up to me the blue pastic
device that tested her urine stream
like when she held up the blue ribbon
she won in kindergarten for the best
easter bunny nest made from marshmallows 
and dyed yellow coconut.

Then she threw the blue device out 
into the space between us on the bed, 
like it was the best card in her deck, 
her ace in the hole.
Your father waited in the other room
sitting in the thick silence,
afraid to breathe and miss
my response.

You and your mother did all the work,
but I was there at your birth, 
Standing alongside, coaching your
mother to good contractions until
I was exhausted from gritting my
teeth and pushing too.

And your dad was there, too,
but closer to the business end 
so he could be the first to know the sex.

 
An unsolicited psychic had told us
you would be a girl, 
and when your dad was told,
he sulked all day 
like it was a conspiracy 
between the women to produce 
only other woman.
He wanted another guy, 
someone to give the men the edge, 
a male child.

When your mother's body could 
keep you from the world no longer,
your head appeared, eyes tightly
shut and a pout on your lips.
Your dad was watching closely,  
the shoulder, the belly and then
his arms flew up in the air 
like he'd made the touchdown
and he cried, "It's a Boy, 
I told you, I told you,"
like he and I had placed a bet.

But then he saw how much
I could love the boy child.

I'm a pretty good grandmother, 
and I think we'll be good friends.

The Christian Race

Paul said to press on forward
Towards the heavenly prize
For if we run the Christian race
We will come to realize
That in spite of the prisons in our lives
Keeping us in mental and physical chains
With faith in God our course of action
Will no longer be tethered not restrained
We might need a spiritual upgrade
To function at full capacity
And every new day we need to freshly pray
With a renewed tranquility
 
Now some people say they don't have enough time
But time is a tangible commodity
We need to learn to structure our time
Using our Christian agility
It's most essential we put God first
And always remember the grace
And mercy that on us He's bestowed
For no man nor woman on this earth
Has the power to help you spiritually grow

When running the Christian race
We need to understand
That if we want to make God laugh
Just come up with a plan
As God has a destiny for each of us
One full of humility and grace
And in spite of the circumstances in our lives
He'll help us run this race
By looking at the Lord and not at the load
By keeping our eyes on God and not on the road

So run the good race with encouragement
From the Holy Spirit anew
And with Jesus as the wind beneath our wings
There's nothing we can't do
So press on forward looking through  
The windshields of life
No longer using the rearview mirror
Just laser focused on Christ


Riding the Waves and Forgetting

riding the waves and forgetting
erasing the thought of time from my mind
becoming one with nothingness and it delight
God is here wading in the water with me

riding the waves and forgetting
being taught that i am not the only one
becoming even more schooled of the many facets of relaxation
God is here wading in the water with me

riding the waves and forgetting
looking forward to forward looking
becoming content with the clear definition of Me
God is here wading in the water with me

riding the waves and forgetting
finding the true meaning of blissful serenity
uncovering the secret to the marine vibrations of divinity
God is here wading in the water with me

riding the waves and forgetting
clearing my head of any dark, dreary thoughts
removing the blanket that i allowed to blockade my every view for way too long
God is here....wading in the water with me....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Slide Ruler

The Slide Ruler

As regulations rule this world from outside in and my time slowly
                 seeps away on this planet’s realm I gaze in awe at that once modern
instrument of calculation that dangles from the ceiling lamp in my

~ Study ~ 

In forward looking nostalgia my memories ambivalent a reminder of 
                words scripted on paper in fountain pen and blotting paper absorbing
the logic never understood derived from square rooted calculus’s incisive

~ Precision ~

I failed the examination maybe my hands were too clumsy or my mind
                       too entangled in quests of a different kind of looming poet trees
in onward advances flooding naive crafting knitting dreams and emotional

~ Liberation ~

I tried to run away and on track right by the start of a marathon
             real and timed in a fast moving obsession I discovered my ruler sliding
into my fingers for a Euro in red plastic casing with figures organizing

~ Incomprehension ~

Metaphorical and analogue to a desire to escape from the dogma of science 
          eschewing the unquestioned paradigm of only one truth and one answer
only as well as the modern compulsion with bits and apps it reminds me of

~ Signposts ~

Trivial directives which lead me away and beyond of what can be counted
                   calculated in the hamster wheeling rat race of pretending to know
exactly what is an illusion in any case plastic or iron cased in

~ Rationalization ~

Nevertheless and because of what I could not understand with a
                slide ruler and the pretence of computer colonized minds around me
I cherish not simply for all time’s sake that comprehension results from

~ Fragmentation ~

And thus found the whole kit and caboodle the complementation of
           polarity synthesized opposites complemented diversity celebrated in the 
 festival of life and the living with brick a brack completing the meaning of

~ Life ~


24th October 2016

Old Jewelry Or Just Old Things Contest

Flight Without Wings

The ragged precipice surmounted,
he stands, leaning forward, looking down
into nature's yawning rictus—
pondering flight without wings.

Restlessness in being,
he’s come unhinged in time
whose moments intertwine,
leaving him indifferent to his age.

Neither older than yesterday
nor younger than tomorrow,
life's review passes. Reaching out his arms,
he jumps...and simply floats away.


Premium Member After the Genocide

For years, the ominous signs were palpable
The deep fraternal mistrust festered and discernable
Propagated by colonial masters to divide and make Rwanda malleable
And left lingering became monstrous and uncontrollable
Snowballing in 1994 into an orgy of murderous hate
As Hutu brothers turned against their Tutsis siblings
For three cruel months respect for human life was obliterated
For three bloody months sanctity of human existence perished
As the government of the day made killing an obligation
And mobilized the population through official propaganda
To destroy all Tutsis and saboteur-Hutus
At the end of the Holocaust over one million Tutsis were sent to the great
beyond
Dreams and hopes were shattered
Loved ones massacred in the most agonizing and cruel manner
While the indifferent international community looked on unconcerned

Just like after the rain comes sunshine 
The blood of the martyrs of Rwanda has irrigated and purified
The country of a thousand hills
Which has risen from the ashes of the gory tragedy
To a land flowing with peace and tranquility
To a Haven for tourists and investors
To a land of calm and forward- looking citizens
Committed to work and put their past behind
And queuing behind their charismatic Leader
They cry unceasingly  and with one voice
‘’Never again shall bestiality descend in our clime’’

Down and Out Number 2

You eager commuters
you don’t see me
in the shadows shivering
Remembering that green door and the
warm baking bread smells
A king in a pocket sprung bed
Beside my abdicated queen
And the curly haired prince who
No longer hears my song

You eager commuters
Forward looking
I alone have 
Wealth and friendship
Bottle shaped
No idle chit-chat
But whispering cold comfort in my ear
and warming the broken hollows of my heart

You eager commuters
understand
This nook is not a chosen one
Not for its smells of rotting waste
or its views of shoes and hemlines
Of swiftly passing people
Averting their lofty eyes
From this pile of rag and bone
That used to be a man with house and home
© Kaye Locke  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Living In the Now

Looking forward, looking back
Wondering about the future
Remembering the past

Many experiences sent to teach
Many more yet to explore

All that really matters is the present
This is all that is in your control

The future will come, the past will go
Make the most of what you have, in the now.

Cross Road - A

Once again, we face a cross road
Filled with so many emotions we might just explode
Life seems to be a series of forks in the track
Never able to change our minds, or to turn back
Being chased down the path by time
Haunted by the ticking, by every chime
Time to choose, up or down, left or right
Fueled by our excitement, by our genuine fright
Make a choice, and hold on tight
Because this is it
You can't give up, you can't quit
Run down that dirt road but watch out
You'll face obstacles, challenges, and never-ending doubt
The only thing you can do is to run
Down that path, through every smile and every tear
Go on headstrong, face your ultimate fear
Eyes forward, looking to the horizon
Eyes forward, looking to the future

Who Would You Call Me - Questionku

Shriek through verses
                                                Occupied minded
                                        Who would you call me then?

                                                 Insane by tone
                                                 Live in melodic
                                        Who would you call me then?

                                               Dwell within past
                                           Love raged never end 
                                        Who would you call me then?

                                                Forward looking
                                                Overbold steady
                                        Who would you call me then?

                                                Time challenger
                                                 Needy in spirit
                                        Who would you call me then?


Author's Note:
Answer: Poet, Musician, The Heart Broken, The Life Ready, Human
***************************************************************
                                                     4th place
                                      Questionku Free Poetry Contest
                                        Sponsor  Richard Lamoureux

Premium Member Regrets and Sunsets

From where he sits presently, he is convinced that the choices  he made, the paths he took, and  the roads not taken were far and away, being guided by supernatural hands.  That over a 50 year period his ship would dock so serenely, was highly unpredictable.                                                                          

From the age of 14, he was very cognisant of the direction in which he wanted to proceed.  That was the initial turning point in his life when he began to focus on his future, and without a doubt,  the young man's dedication was set in stone.  His will and determination were strong, and a forward looking pathway began to unfold and become crystal clear.

From the frosted winter's dawn to the steamy and humid days of summer, he fought back many a tear of melancholy.  At the stillness of the gloaming, a friendly rest appeared to ease the day's toil; and deep into the night, hopeful dreams of the valiant warrior prepared him for the next day's fight. The hope- starved back fields of Dixie required one to be forevermore protected with the phycological shields  of steel.  His was a  life destined to be one of substance and purpose; not one to remain bathed in a rich pathos of poverty.

No woulda's, coulda's, and shoulda's are causing him to be upset                                                                          His is a free spirit and in his sunsets, there are no regrets
08172017PSContest, Eight word Challenge-3, John Hamilton

Premium Member It's Not Byron's Fault, Anyway

Byron didn't wait for me.
Across the hall Becky tried not to look.
Chalk was everywhere.
Knuckles was already suspended.
Trailing the varsity jackets I
Oscillated between chic and irreverent.
Someone yelled, "barf!"
Charades and hustlers cover every inch.
How am I going to find my locker?
Oswald points me to "304."
Oblong and wrong I walk there.
Looking forward, looking backward.

Chapters Being Written

The pages are turning, one page at a time.  
A story is written line upon line. 

Echoes from the past pushing me forward even still
What is ahead I do not know, but something urges me to go

Life has its ups and downs and we must experience them all
With expectation, with some reservation I feel the call. 

Not afraid to move ahead, standing still is not my way
So moving forward looking for to a better day. 

Pausing only for a moment to look where I have been
Then continuing on to the next journeys end

Life is a story being told. a book full of chapters 
Some made of pure gold, 

We keep all the chapters, some good and some bad 
For there are lessons to be learned from all that was had.  

A mixture of tender moments, sadness, laughter  and  despair, teaching us who we are, 
showing us how to care.  

There is a guiding hand in all of this taking us to each level, each chapter of our lives, lifting 
us up when we fall, pulling us up gently, speaking into our hearts a new song,  a new hope 
a new direction.

Premium Member Mid Eastern Tales

Mid Eastern Tales
Curtis Johnson

Long, long ago, along the corridors of history,
there lived two judges name Deborah and Samson.
They were great and very special people, real and true.
These bigger than life personalities were a God send.                              Judge Deborah and Judge Samson were uncommon                                  and unrelated. Though from the same country,                                           the two were separated by several hundred years.

Judge Deborah was strong in spirit and spirituality.
She was patient, wise, and forward looking.                                      Deborah  was            also a warrior and
a mighty commanding general of her nation.  Before her
demise, she had become a model citizen and great patriot.
She had become a national hero and also a singer of songs.


Judge Samson, on the other hand, was very strong in body.
Unfortunately, he was weak in morals and character.
He was inconsiderate, selfish, and irresponsible.
He was also impulsive, unwise, and shortsighted.

In their own way, they both succeeded as leaders.
But at a time when his country’s freedom was completely                   dependent on him, he divulged the secret of his power                                  and was captured.   Selfishness blinds us of the needs of others.                   He was personally disgraced and humiliated.  By the time of his death,        Judge Samson was blinded and imprisoned.

His demise was untimely.  However, before his passing, he handed out hundreds of death sentences.  He also became world renown and a national hero.
10232016 cj Bible, Judges 4 & 14 PS

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