Best From Each One Poems


Premium Member Finding God

FINDING GOD

My hungry heart and thirsty soul yearns for refill...
Darkness and light roll then turn me up and down.
Laughter and cries conjure caress my being in shrill.
Gaping aghast to running rush caused a run-down!

Yet, You my God comforted me 'neath water tides try.
In trials and confusion, Your Sovereign a rock still.
To shaky hope and weakness, Your grace empowers my will.
The wilderness brings forth spring when I found yea...

Hearing the sweetness of your voice in silence 
unfolds truth - healing wells of pains and woes...
Heaven's breath by blossoms smell brought no shyness
of searching... finding... knowing You more and more...

Stars and moon shine along with my life's lamp shall bow
in praise and worship, the deepest reverence I can offer.
Thanking you until my life is done, my forever vow.
As finding You, my God within labyrinths sets order...

(c)Olive Eloisa
4:11am
August 10. 2013
FIRST PLACE, GLORY
TO GOD!!!
CONTEST: FINDING GOD
SPONSOR: Gale Angel
Doyle

Inspired by Biblical Verses: 

*Acts 17:27: That they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their  way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us,


**Matthew 7:8 = For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who  knocks it will be opened.

***Jeremiah 33:3 - call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and 
hidden things that you have not known.
Form: Rhyme

Petal Mettle

I wonder, do daises tell? 
Among us, who hasn't tried 
More than once petals to expel? 

Watch whispers of white-hearted hope 
From within this circled chain; 
Petaled path on which we grope. 

Numbers hold this uncertain 
Mystery until they're plucked 
One by one.  Life is taken 

From each one because of lore,
To assuage the human heart. 
They die to make your love soar!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member This Art Gig Is Therapy

Today is the day of a big fall festival, about twenty miles from here.  I have been juried in, and have purchased all the equipment, set up a white tent, and put out my paintings, a few hours ahead, and stayed around for days of waiting.   It took a lot of energy, and time, and I did not enjoy it, which is why I only did it twice.  Two different shows, both the same year, about four years ago.  I sold about eighty-five paintings, and they did not come anywhere near covering the cost of the tent, display pieces, and they did not give me back one ounce of time that I lost. I considered almost every second of tent time “lost time”, unless someone loved my work, which happened only three times in five days of waiting.

This art gig is therapy for me, pure and simple.  The best part is, that it keeps me out of stores, buying new stuff – a bunch of junk I get tired of in two or three days, shiny things that will be dumped into a bonfire when I do not use them any longer.  I lie. The best part of painting is the pleasure that it gives me.  It is the most relaxing hobby I have ever gifted myself.  I have mediated, and painting is like that only better, because I get to add color and glitter, and I love seeing my creativity unfold in surprising ways.  Since I already own a couple of hundred canvases and the paints, and I just ordered a hundred and fifty new brushes, I might as well do this cheap hobby that I love, right?  

I am not tempted to go to the fall festival. I feel the vendor’s pain, but I always try to buy something from each one, so I will not hurt their feelings, and if I keep it up, I will be working until I am ninety.


Premium Member Sweet Melody

On the evening breeze
the sweet melody of birds
is the only sound I hear,
music without words.

They sing the setting sun
to its nightly rest
and bid adieu to day
as they settle in their nest.

Like an orchestra they play,
different notes from each one.
I'm surrounded by their melody
as I watch the setting sun.

On the evening breeze
the sweet melody of birds,
filling my soul with joy,
music without words.
Form: Rhyme

Different and the Same

DIFFERENT AND THE SAME

There was a petit young twin,
Who believed she could not win.
People would like to compare;
Most viewed her as part of a pair.
She had a couple of freckles on her face;
The sister had none any place.
Being compared and this twin a fretter;
Both were upset when she did better.
Wanting to do her best,
She rarely could rest.
Things tended to be of equal share;
 If one had more, was it okay… or unfair?
One afternoon they went out to shop,
The sister liked a blouse with lace on top.
It turned out, no two blouses matched.
The twin preferred one--no lace attached.
The two were quite surprised;
A difference of tastes surmised.
An outpour of questions from each one came;
Both twins seemed to enjoy this new game.
Some answers were different and some alike…
Both wished for the same bike.
One liked to jump rope and run;
The other picked board games as fun.
One liked a winter snow storm;
The other loved it sunny and warm.
Then, the girls quietly walked along,
Humming the tune of a favorite song.
A separate identity, is what this twin uniquely searched for---
As a teen, she became less interested in what her sister wore.
When they were adults the two moved away;
One went to Chicago-- the other flew to L.A.
Form: Rhyme

A Grain of Stardust

from a photo challenge in A Poet's Haven
Out there amidst the glowing stars
She lived a thousand, thousand times
Holds onto memories from each one
She has loved the same man
In each one as their love 
Has never ended and she searches
For him now out there amidst
The glowing stars is the one
She has loved a million times
And here amidst are humble Terra
There are but a few who
Understand the conciseness of a single
Grain of Stardust let alone all 
The memories contained within each one


Close Your Eyes

TIME PASSES. . . 
          with it the faces of those we knew who are no longer with us.

LOVE AND LIFE. . .
          Parents, Grandparents, Brothers, Sisters, Uncles, Aunts, Husbands, Wives,
          Children, and Friends who helped shape to our lives.

SOMBER SORROW. . .
          as we try now to remember them and the Spirit of Life each one had within. 

HAPPY HEARTACHE. . .
           the little smile which forms on our face as we think of something they did to
           make us laugh at ourselves.

MEMORIES SAVED. . .
          those rich treasures we keep within from each one, as we see their faces, hear
          their voices, and remember them once more.

AWAKE NOW. . .
          our eyes open to the life giving memories we now make with those who
          remain, saving the moment, the look, the sound for another time.

TIME PASSES. . .
          when all the cherished moments will be brought together on the day of 
          reunion promised by our Lord.  The day of never ending reunion with Him.
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.

The Dirt Race Track From My Youth

The anticipation mounts,
Marty Robbins in the air.
No cement, no asphalt,
there's only dirt, it's everywhere.

The trucks are pulling in,
their trailers tucked in tight.
They come ready to race,
it's gonna be exciting tonight.

Every driver at the wheel,
is here to state his case.
The win is all that counts,
no one cheers second place.

The flagman at his altar,
his flags run the show.
You don't like what he says,
in the pits, you'll go.

The fans know the drivers.
They are who they come to see.
Bob, Fletcher, James, Bud,
Charlie, Billy, Leon, and Curley.

The announcer starts his spiel,
It's finally getting close.
Can hear the engines running,
noise to some, but poetry to most.

Cars in parade on the backstretch,
the green flag in Weyman's hand.
The engines roar to life,
dirt is flying, every fan stands.

The winner takes his victory lap.
Checkered flag waves from his car.
It's what every racer lives for,
this driver is this weeks star.

The other racers leave their mounts,
from each one can be heard.
Next time, will get them next week,
always says, second and third.

But wait, there is no next week,
there's nothing on this ground.
The track has suddenly closed,
race cars nowhere to be found.

The announcer's mic is dead,
The flags no longer wave.
The stands bare, the pits empty.
Marty Robbins no longer plays.

Standing on this sacred backstretch,
many, many years ahead.
It's eerily quiet and still outside,
But ...... not in my head.
Form: Rhyme

Manifest

How can we all be a manifest?
To create a world that's blessed?
Should be a lifetime quest,
Smiles and kindness are free,
Sent from each one personally,
To approach each day positively,
Positive plans for every day,
How can we be manifests today?

God Started Shaving

God Started Shaving

Off my sins God started shaving
Me from them was always saving
From each one he would release
Efforts to help others did increase
At God each morning will be waving.

Jim Horn


http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Comfortable

It
Was
A goal
Just to be
Comfortable?
Yes, comfortable!
It is really a reward
That comes with time.
Not just the passage of time
But time shared, spent with love
And respect for each other, so that
We reach a stage where no words are
Needed.  Not discarded, just not needed.
What is required for us to ‘speak’? Glance 
Alone is sufficient for both eyes to fleetingly
‘Meet’ and when they do, the result’s a soft smile
From each one to the other. And that in itself, is all
That is required; communicating our love for the other.
We sit in large chairs and dangle our arms till the fingers
Reach out to each other but do not quite touch. Yet as in the
Michael Angelo Creation, the fingers are close enough to spark
The joy and reassurance that comes from us being so comfortable
With each other. We do not doubt our love, for each there is no other
Person that can come between and within the comfortable zone we have
Created, and nurtured with shared experience, and soft whispering when we
Lie in bed in each others arms and feel so safe because of the other’s embrace.
Trust and love that creates this comfortable state, that so satisfies, takes years 
To build. There is no shortened way, no quick route, to a state of mind that Buddha 
Has called Nirvana. A sense of perfect peace, free from craving, anger and afflictive 
States, will embrace us.Thus if only our eyes do meet we will feel very comfortable.

Nancy

My Dearest Nancy,

Real friends are hard to find
In a place where most are colorblind
A place where we can make such a mess
And carry the weight of the world upon our chest
Real friends are treasure… much more then gold
For they know your secrets without being told.
They hold your hand with life’s demands
And lift you up when you cannot stand.
A real friend is what I found in you
God gave me a gift that continually grew
Into a bond that distance and time could never have shaken
And now I can’t seem to understand why you had to be taken.
That distance is somewhere I can’t go 
I can’t call heaven and let you know
I can’t drive to the stars
And share my scars
And I canted text the moon
And tell you I’ll be there soon
 that is what brings me sorrow I can’t erase
even in this moment
I can close my eyes and see your beautiful face
 I can hear your voice echoing in the breeze
But there is still a piece of my heart that’s missing
And it brings me to my knees.
The thing about fingerprints is that they are all uniquely rare
Not one the same, not one can compare
There could never be another you
Your mark is on everyone you ever new
I honor you today not because you were perfect
But because you were sincere
 a thousand drops of love fall from each one of my tears
Iv seen you at your worst and you have seen me at mine
And one day I’ll see you in forever with that glorious, angelic shine
I hope that God tells you how loved and missed you will be
 I rest ensure that you are in the arms of Jesus…with wings…your finally free… 

Love always and forever
Sabina Nicole AKA BEAN
10-11-2019
Form: Rhyme

Of Long Ago

Dreamt a dream that I was dreaming
     of a time so long ago
That yesterday had not yet come;
     was so much we’d never know.

Day by day we were wandering
     without rhyme or reason why,
Been going off to nowhere fast,
     underneath a big blue sky.

Saw visions in a forest deep
     of those once already been;
From each one lost that had been found
     to the last who would soon win.

Somewhere is kept the journey’s end
     as a secret futures share,
And glimpses only do we see
     of lives to which we compare.

Far beyond the snow-capped mountain
     and the narrow valley stream,
Tomorrow’s such a long time gone
     that life’s nothing but a dream.
Form: Rhyme

Mistakes

I cant help but to think of myself as a screw up on so many levels.
I always make mistakes, not always the same,
Different ones now and again.
And I try to learn and improve from each one of them.
I don’t really know what to do, it's unknown...
it seems as if I am “mistake prone.”
I don’t even know how to be,
I disappoint everyone including me.
Hell I don’t even know how to act,
I walk around with a smile as my mask.
I lie to everyone including myself,
I say I’m “okay” and “fine”... What else?
I figure if I keep this mask of mine on,
Maybe I’ll believe it after a little time has gone.
I'm tired of saying “I don’t know” and “sorry,” but I honestly don’t know what else to say,
I feel as though everything's my fault... I’m to blame.
I disappoint everyone in this stupid life always.
There's always someone I want to please, but every time...
Someone's not happy...
Form: ABC

Sadness Lingers

As much as I wish this frigid season
Would change into warmer days of springtime.
I can’t help feeling sad for some reason:
Ruefulness within my subconscious mind.
It might be the ending of snowball fights
Where I was the children's adversary;
Or perhaps it was those cold winter nights
When we all sang carols and was merry.
Whatever might be the reason for it
I guess I will never really know why.
Therefore it shall remain indefinite
In the recesses of my mind. Time flies
By so fleetingly season to season
A little sadness lingers from each one.
Form: Sonnet

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