Best Founds Poems
Disparate, she commented,
The word reverberating
As fond music, with pleasant
Measures and tingly tones --
And should we not be open
To others’ voices, divergence of
Thinking? As with clear-eyed
And blinking, a look-see is worth
The now, hoping, anticipated
Enlivened journey of daring
Vistas, elongated dimensions --
Spirit/mind ever on the hunt for
Spirit/source – life is a series
Of Lost And Founds...squares
Seeking their counterpart rounds --
Not diametrically opposed, just
Points and edges making intriguing
Bounds – but never a harmony all
Quaking Spheres. Simply enjoying
A unique volume of eyes, noses, voices
And pert little ears.
of Knowing Thee
…Of Thee
holding peace…Glory
overlying, fine/
quite sheer radiance
overall/
dimensional
The Omnipotence of Thee
Most Holy I-AM…
nonperiel
— infinite — intimate —
pervasive Divine
enduring Breath of Life
composing the songs
of legions of translucent angels
opening petals unseen
that our souls glean
completely in the blessings
of all the shades and hues
of your redeeming life
and light
(from allizarin to zuggarat)
dressing our hours…
as graced in delight or suffering
bringing degrees of learning
to transform our journeying
time anew
— from being grown
in humanity’s coarse ground
— to becoming branches bearing
the fruit of this New Wine
grown from deeply rooted vines
for Thee, by Thee and in Thee
from dust to stardust:
magnificent!
——————-
————————————*** Inspired by & written for my dear soul-friends at PoetrySoup.com (especially of late for the support given to me & Jim duing my illnss), as I am so daily touched by their poetry’s deeply creative spirits voicing their devotion to Our Holy Father God and King. I have found no other place on-line as similarly expressive of such blessed love. Finding the world of poetry here& & the sweet fellowship it founds, saved my life from a degree of lonliness & grief, after my beloved poet friend here in KY committed suicide without warning in 2019". I am so thankful…to God for the open & ready hearts that may be found here. In the theme of many poems I’ve read here, I’ve truly re-defined my definition of Gratitude. I repeatedly & repeatedly, too, pray God will bless all of you!
(c) s.y.eslinger 5/2024
Thanks be to God—
A small Native tree frog that is found in the fields of Puerto Rico.
Its color is Brown. They are called Coqui by the onomatopoeia
sound mating call made by males.
When is raining , their sound is heard wide spread. Usually they can be founds
in the leaves of plantain and bananas. A song called Coqui® was sang by
the 1980's quintet called Menudo ®.
Nayda Ivette
10-29-2015
Black Americans in shark
houses
And caravans
Imagine how many black
Americans dying
In strong winters as
They can not afford
To build
or buy proper houses.
The American system pushed
Them to be
Where they are till now.
It is very hard
For them to come out
Of that bad
Situation without
The full support
Of the American government.
My daily song , "
God loves me so much ,
I love people so much. "
Do you think USA government does not have
Enough founds to build houses
for poor Americans ?
If not ...
What make them giant economy country in the World
When they fail to do what
The government of late
Mohammad Kadaffi did?
Huh?
Investing much money in terrorism
And wars in the World
While some Americans
Continue dying
like flies
In Winters
Due to missing
proper houses.
I think Uncle Joe Biden
Will work to change that system
Or Uncle Donald Trump
Will help
If Americans will vote
For him again.
I speak my mind as a poet
Which is reality.
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
Newspaper blows along rain-washed streets,
dying echoes of hash tags and tweets
promising hook-ups, flash mobs and meets,
long gone to their bed-sits and urban retreats.
Puddles painted with neon gaudy,
could be Mancunian, Scouse or Geordie,
late night streets, care-worn and tawdry,
home to the reveller, the lewd and the bawdy.
The siren's wail, the drunken fight,
the running feet of the loser's flight,
the screams of anguish hidden from sight,
sounds of the city, heightened at night.
Couples and couplings lurching and lairy,
high on the octane of Jack and Bloody Mary,
wandering zombie-like, staggering, starey,
on late night streets, decadent and scary.
With dawn's promise come different sounds,
the rubbish collectors doing their rounds,
policemen sorting the losts and the founds
night washed away like old coffee grounds.
Like a hurling sling
Is a poet’s pen.
Both are sent
To pursue a purpose.
He errs by will
And rehearses error;
The critic mumbles
And so in prose.
Than prose poetry is harder;
Moods must be spelt
Attitudes choreographed
And scenes preserved.
Who is the poet’s critic
But lay specialist
Who’s career founds
On a poet’s error?
One writes of merry,
Another reads of dirge;
One writes of birth,
Another reads of wedding!
Poetry is god-like,
Poets are creators
Who set in motion
The world of literature.
Makers of good and bad,
Poets suffer indefinite
But are proud founders
Of life on paper.
MS 26072016
in love
only words don't to be
hearts need
difficult to walk thorny paths
in love
only feel don't to be
reals are founds
everyone sees when the curtain rising
in love
only two person don't to be
understand won't take long
My Lord lives and He blesses me, He blesses me
Let the God of my salvation rise me, He blesses me
The Lord lives and He forgives, blesses me, He blesses me
And He blesses my house,blesses me, He blesses me
He founds and frees the lost, blesses me, He blesses me
Let the God of my salvation be raised up
Exalt the most high God
Lift up the name of Jesus
For He's more than worthy
Yes, He's worthy for my soul
Only in Him am I wholeblesses me, He blesses me,
More than praise He lifts me up today blesses me, He blesses me
The Lord lives and He kisses me, blesses mblesses me, He blesses me,
He blesses me
He embraces me arms open He holds me
Let the God of my salvation be lifted up
The Lord lives turns water into wine
Allow Him almighty God provider to fill your cup
Blesses me, He blesses me
1/18/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
inspired from Psalm 18:46
This Quest, Was It But A Sad Rage Against The Storm
As I wade through this poisonous wilderness- alone
Raging fury contained well within my breast
Seeing earth's darkness, cold- cold as a frozen stone
I trudging onward, seeking that elusive rest.
My sanity cries out, begging release from pain.
Desperate plea, salvation I seek to attain.
Where fled the hopeful happiness of tender youth
Dawns of wonderment and prayers of eager soul
The immense pride and dear blessing of seeking truth
Battling the darkness that is vying for control.
My sanity cries out, begging release from pain.
Desperate plea, salvation I seek to attain.
This quest, was it but a sad rage against the storm
Perhaps a hopeless quest soothing vanity's aches
Or futile journey to find a place safe and warm
Or deeper separation from this world of fakes.
My sanity cries out, begging release from pain.
Desperate plea, salvation I seek to attain.
As I wade through this poisonous wilderness- alone
Raging fury contained well within my breast
Seeing earth's darkness, cold- cold as a frozen stone
I trudging onward, seeking that elusive rest.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-01-2021
Rhyme, ( The search for life's truth and a better tomorrow )
Tribute given to the inspiring poem by Emily Dickinson:
XXVI ("The farthest thunder")
XXVI
The farthest thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the sky,
And rumbles still, though torrid noons
Have lain their missiles by.
The lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself,
But I would not exchange the bolt
For all the rest of life.
Indebtedness to oxygen
The chemist may repay,
But not the obligation
To electricity.
It founds the homes and decks the days,
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying light.
The thought is quiet as a flake, —
How life's reverberation
Its explanation found!
Ode for a Fortunate Infant
Newborn:
Smacked and
Screaming —
Hardly more than a new fact,
A statistic
Already forgetting
The crush into Becoming.
This “tabula rasa,”
Kicking and flailing,
Not yet swaddled or cradled,
Held only by Fate
In the first minutes of Destiny
(unformed and waiting)
With a heart
Needing to be embracd
By more than just touch,
But blessed to completely feel
The warmth of Acceptance
That founds a first sense
Of Identity as being a Self
Here linked with Others…
For the first lessons of Love —
Swaddled in belonging
Wrapped with thanksgiving.
(c) s.y.eslnger 5/24/2024
Thanks be to God…
Belief: an escape from disappointments
Heart desires what it wants,Heart desires it all
Heart desires not to forgive,heart screams when you have nothing at all,
Heart cries the pain of loss , the agony of loss cannot be bribed .
In the end, She wanted nothing but peace, she gathered it all!
In the deep pain, her red eyes were about to burn everything
That night, for she was left devastated and shattered
By the one she wanted all her life, to be together.
After so many years, her trust, her confidence lying scattered
All around, not a piece of love she could sense to rebound
Only pain left and she is trying to get, how it got so abusive!
Leaving there she decided to move out ,lonely ,she felt but no reason
To stay she founds.
She felt so lonely while he is already into a relation to replace her ground
Yes! She cried ,cried a lot she questioned to god"no miracles ,no happiness no hope she founds".is it all she deserves!
Months passed by and everything seems to change around so happily she seems to be now ,for pain can't torn her apart. she turned more strong then she could ever imagined,with dearms yet to be fullfilled
She has two kids she decided to take care of them with no conditions
These orphans have got their "MOM".
And god replied to her in form of these kids
You are born to give happiness and yes its, you my child !
nobody can bring you down!
Miracles happen , happen to change you
Miracles happen to make you !
Make you better than who you were
Beautiful girl playing in full moon dust
Silvered and shadowed , trying to be something more
She became a miracle! Miracle to kids
For, beautiful faces fades off but beautiful hearts take all the pain
And moulds it all.
Never she felt defeated,never was she broken
The one who called them once, inseparable souls
Have left her alone ,alone to explore herself and make her
"Miracle of god"
One is the man whose living in half
Whole can he be with the wavelength above
In blurs, he saw the sacred cryptograph
With faith, he felt everlasting love
Two is the man with divine armor
Three is his strength, from threefold flame of Christ
Breaking chains of his flesh charmer
Intensifying the passion within
For with that flame, he founds himself
To the path of supreme completeness
You and I...
We were so similar...
we shared the same mind...
the same spirit..
the same soul...
Like our hearts were friends in a different world from ours...
It was like coming home...
like the moon in me always founds the sky in you ...
You completed me and I did you ...
Now we are pieces of the same puzzle lost in a world of pieces of other puzzles and we shall never fit in ...
I hope you find another soul ...
Another spirit, another mind and another heart from your passed life...
I hope you find another home ...
Maybe even another moon to fit your sky ...
I hope you find another piece , just like me ...
Outside the camp
In mocking cruelty
They crucified
Their King.
‘Away with him’
They cried,
And thus
Religion triumphed
For another day,
The status quo
Preserved for priests
Impelled by hatred
To defend their faulted cause.
Too blind to see
The God-writ symbols
Of their ancient rites,
Those pointers
To the Prince of Life
They pierced
And pinned
Outside the camp.
They saw their deed
A timely vindication
Of their careful rule
To keep the Roman peace.
This self-appointed Christ
Suits not their concepts
Of Messiah come –
Too mild to liberate
Their Israel from its pagan yoke.
Dark prejudice saw not
This faultless Christ,
Messiah born to live
And die
Deliverance
For the greater captives
Chained in slavery to sin.
Outside the camp
His death-cry founds
A kingdom
Mightier than a thousand Romes,
And crumbles all the edifice
Of Judah’s temple fair.
Outside the camp
In death
He slew the greater foe –
And I go free!
Written many years ago after reading these words: “Jesus also suffered outside the city gate to make the people holy through his own blood. Let us, then, go to him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace he bore.”
Hebrews 13:12-13
Her hair so soft and shining,
gleaming in the bright moonlight.
Beckons my touch, calls, come touch me,
but not just there for I want you everywhere.
Take me so gently, this morsel of lustfulness,
swept across the room, to thy lofty bed.
Heavy breathing abounds us, a melancholy waltz,
while naught amiss be founds us, fog all around us.
Thy misty haze calm and bliss, splendid in it’s own way,
nonchalantly covers the room.
Exhalations a hundredfold, time consumes life,
we are one at last, infinite oasis swoon across our faces,
idleness naught but grandeur,
merest whim of your perfume,
your fleece so fair.
Decaying love erases.