Best Geographical Poems
Shackles of cynicism have displaced your heart,
the love that once transcended time is no more.
No wordsmith can bring beauty to an invisible emotion,
lost in translation to an ignorant uncultured mind.
As you searched for a definition of the tangible,
intangible feelings were ignored, even with eyes shut.
Funny, how three words cause a chemical imbalance,
but the euphoria is short lived when ego takes hold.
Promises to comfort, wipe away tears, anguish and pain,
come with no guarantee of satisfaction - no refund for regret.
Love does not say when the fire is burning to wage war,
it provides an opportunity to nourish peace and harmony.
Love does not say to be bitter and live with a grudge,
it asks for you to forgive, not to antagonise another's soul.
In a world lost to materialistic commercialism,
the skeptic doubts like a pessimistic detractor.
Love is not like money, that must be reciprocated with interest,
it is simply an undetectable phenomenon that graces us all.
To some a second hand emotion, but the language of love
still remains the most powerful feeling known to humanity.
One tongue that has no religion, race nor geographical boundary,
which only fails to blossom when limits are implanted.
Silent One
Written 28 February 2016
Re posted 30 May 2018
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
Blank, silent sight, fretted the gods,
Nowhere in the horizon, a living thing abides;
Handfuls of soil, they carry in the air,
Poured as seeds ‘till a haven molds there.
Land of the Morning, Pearl of the Orient,
So called the Philippines, the name I am sent;
Seated in the east where the sun is dawning
Pride of the Pacific, as a lady ever shining.
Unlimited riches stretch beyond sight,
Vast oceans, boundless forests, plains are wide;
Flora and fauna of diversified species,
Plants, animals in a variety of faces.
Wet and dry – the nation goes through;
Brown and green – the Chocolate hills dress up too.
Her angry volcanoes constitute the ring; and typhoons, the belt;
A geographical fashion of calamity been made.
What makes her stunning that colors adore such?
Not her beauty, not Boracay, not that much…
But her people, the Filipinos, the key, the answer
Unlocking a treasure – a gem over waters.
wind always knows
it limitation
as it writes its swirling
scripts upon threadbare roof.
lamentations for the
fields of empty prairies
as the dry leaves rustle
in strings of grass…
i do not know
my boundaries
the geographical shapes
of my darkness
for life
has been left empty
with only a puppy
of narrowness
to feed
scraps of plain verse too
how the tail wagged for years
as empty …
i light candles
like images on the window
of my smile
for the sputter of light
is much more reassuring
than the breathless darkness.
i recite my own alphabets
that i have
hidden in the mysteries of my throat
and marvel as the moonlight passes
through the simple words
the trellises of upper
and lower case
shades i have formed
with my craftless hands
and letters
speak upon the glass
of outside
like frost
for i have found my true words
and they fit my squalor
with a strength of calmness
for darkness cannot
abide in smallness
so it leaves me
as the darkest raven
ever imagined…
Pearl of the Orient Seas surely am I
in my strategic geographical position
Heralding beauty and glory bestowed
by the Almighty along my precious history
Influenced with varied cultures indeed
blest with unique identity of global impact
Liberty-led, I’m propelled by my great
citizens, surely freedom loving…
Independence prevails over me, conquered
by my heroes of valor and integrity
Propped upon truth of sovereignty
securing our territory with peace…
Philippines am I, verily dear, prospered
priceless gem to my treasured people
Imparting to them my God-blest*
of grand purpose and functional interest
Nourishing every citizen with ideals
upheld by constitutional nurture
Effectively delivering services through
officials who are responsibly efficient…
Settled am I as shining pearl to the
world marked by my FILIPINOS’ stature!
*Psalm 33:12 King James Version 12 Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord...
February 10, 2024
Personification in Acrostic form
1st place, "Pearl of the Orient" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Jcb Brul; judged on 2/25/2024
Alas, the world has changed
As the humans take control.
They, for their own likes and dislikes,
Have defined you, just as they please.
And now, you witness the creation of great walls…
Separating mankind.
By the comparison… of colour, of language, of the way of life.
The beautiful, the clean, the classy, the rich…
High class, low class, third class, middle class…
Splitting the world: once split by geographical circumstances.
But remember, your definition lies within you:
In your honesty, purity, tenderness and virtue.
They are to be measured, evaluated, and to be improved…
So to win the heart of man as a rightful citizen.
Remember; do not define yourself by those futile factors –
For with them, only the stupidity of mankind shall rise.
12/20/2018
Meanwhile Doctor Kaunda reminded young
people in the country ascending the rung
of success they have a big role to play
with trappings of pride slung
in weaving together unity among unsung
swiftly tailored heroes, as sowers
reaping luxe fabrics of peace among
divinity, integrity, magnanimity,
and unity for this country.
He has however commended President
Edgar Lungu for his efforts in uniting recent
dichotomy, sans the various people in the country,
And speaking at the same event,
National Guidance and reminescent
Religious Affairs Minister
Reverend Godfridah
Sumaili sought riches for indigent -
says national unity and urgent
peace critical for development
of the geographical extent
spanning entire country
Reverend Sumaili says difficult
no matter how fervent
for Zambia to develop
if no unity among Zambians.
And earlier in his speech, Commodores
Vision Ambassador to Zambia
Chairperson Misheck Kombe yours
truly expressed concern to jumpstart
solution regarding regionalism and tribalism at heart
tearing Zambia apart, like inures
reflux resignation of meal,
thus Mr. Kombe underscores
how important each and every shores
Zambian to join the crusade complacent
against tribalism and regionalism
because it retards development for s'mores!
enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
* * * * * *
A Senior Moment - written months ago commemorating
the graduation from a vaunted charter school
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend -
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
* * * * * *
Valedictorian treads across makeshift platform
i.e. most likely auditorium stage marked
by hushed audience inhaling, notating,
and regaling gleeful lightness of buoyant feat
(but me Yeats heavy of heart) feted for 2017 Redmond
Enrichment Academy graduates, who attained,
a milestone vis a vis earning their
high school diploma, and ready to launch
bountiful daunting challenges, yet sure
footed each young gal and/or guy
will exude joy and sorrow upon grasping their
high school diploma aware a sound education
sent each on their own future path
while pomp and circumstances issues forth
by adroit musically talented underclass
* * * * * *
man, which emotional celebrated achievement
evoked by keynote student speaker,
but also underscored via that well worn mortar
board, linkedin, kickstarter, Joyus
tune (composed by Sir Edward Elgar –
subtitled March Number 1) acknowledging
cheers, eliciting grownups immense Kleenex
moistening overpowering quintessentially
simmering ululating wrenching yowling
as tassels flipped (maybe in conjunction with
a non twittering uber bird) to the left side
of the caparisoned newly anointed future
Dharma Bums, professionals and/or trades
persons momentarily stung with sadness
to depart favorite classmates and teachers
who voluntarily cosseted, ferried, and
* * * * * *
capitalone did flickr imperceptibly, kneaded
and leavened LivingSocial, and massaged MineCraft
outlook plenti full confidence, faith, and inherent
lettered oblations serve as snap chatting,
As the celebration of America's independence approaches, I am thinking of our nation's relationship to God relative to America's great documents.
In the play, Raisin In The Sun, the daughter Beneatha had grown weary with believing and trusting in the God of her family. However, When she expressed her own mind in the presence of her mother by saying that God was simply 'An Idea', there was a 'reality check in 'Mama's House'. Her mother demanded that Beneatha repeats these words after her, "In my mother's house, there is always God".
If you have ever entertained the thought of giving up on America, think again. In these United States of America, there is still God. God is yet breathing eternal life into millions of Americans. We do not have to strain our eyes to find God flowing throughout the geographical space called America. Moreover, for more than 400 years, we have found him being acknowledged on the written pages of many of America's great documents.
In a resent study of several American documents, my findings revealed what I suspected. There were multiple references of God. The findings might engender a "So What!" in some, and a "Laughable Indifference" in others. Personally, I do not take it lightly, because it gives us a better hope for a brighter tomorrow in America.
References to God have been from the founding of our country until now, deeply entrenched in many of America's great documents. The six documents I chose to see where references of God were written: The Magna Carta of 1215, The Mayflower Compact of 1620, The Declaration of Independence of 1776, The Articles of Confederation of 1778, The Constitution of The United States of 1787, and The Gettysburg Address of 1865.
05202017cjPS Contest, Late June Standard, Brian Strain, NA
"The Embrace"
In the apathy of a
corporate world
Commercial here,
commercial there
I live within air
quotes
Pretending I live at
all
To buy, to extort,
to be the product
I am who they say I
am
All persons, so
impersonal just
thriving outside of
nature
Being the drones of
love and war
Working behind
brick, driving
inside metal?
I want to live a
manhood, able to
love freely
Without the confines
of civilized space
and time
I have this much
time to find a
compatible mate
I have this much
geographical space
to do it in
On a nondescript
morning the drive I
drove, went passed a
woman
She wept herself so
thoroughly on the
side of the road
Have run over a
beaver, she wept so
openly
The regret, what
refreshing regret so
Christian-like
I paused, this was
what it took, a sin
to make me feel
And a woman to make
feelings awaken me
I slowed down the
car in empathy,
rather to join her
in sorrow
She looked at me,
the man, to the
beaver, and then
within herself
We all waited for
someone to twitch
The niche of
emotion, that begun
with her silence
Ended with the words
as I got out of the
car
"It's okay, it's
okay, there are
animals in heaven"
I closed my arms
around her shoulders
And said goodbye to
the corporate world
Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
N ow I’m not one to complain.
O ther people think I’m insane,
W hen I tell them where I’m from.
H earing their laughter thumps like a drum.
E ach and every man jack or two,
R eally hates thinking my origins are true.
E arly on, I’ve rejected this questions’ repetitive drone,
M ore than once I’ve pinpointed my geographical zone.
A nswering the question, hope you’ll understand,
“N owhere man, from nowhere land!”
For the “where in the world are you?” contest,
With “a little help from my friends.”
TIDES OF TIDINESS
If I was God, the geographic world I would bless:
I’d start by tidying up my world map for it’s a mess.
First let’s examine the ideal - man-made edges can’t be beat.
Look at places like the USA -Canada boundaries - wow they’re neat.
Saskatchewan and the Four Corners - geometric perfection.
Australia’s states too, and Africa, especially the northern section.
It’s the instinct of all poetic geography teachers
To want to tidy up the world map’s ragged features.
The British Columbia coast needs sweeping with a big brush and
All those islands pushed till they’re joined to the mainland.
Same goes for the chilly south coast of Chile:
So many islands and peninsulas - it’s just silly.
And also the fjorded Atlantic coast of Norway:
Smooth? Neat? Geometric? No way!
The Canadian archipelago too might as well be joined up together
Cos it’s one frozen mass all the time in wintry weather.
Of those messy lakes of Canada and Finland we have no need:
With God’s giant blotting paper I’d make them recede.
And don’t get me started about the crazy course of a river.. . .
Pure logic and efficiency I can deliver:
The Amazon rises only 60 miles from Peru’s Pacific coast
But clearly it felt the need to have something to boast.
It should have gone west instead of 4000 miles east to the Atlantic
A wasted effort, silly choice - it ended up being absurdly gigantic.
And I have bigger complaints, such as South America
Being fitted back where it belongs into the coast of Africa;
And the Red Sea’s coasts, moved apart like edges of torn paper all raggedy:
Dunno whose idea that was, but it ain’t foolin nobody.
Obviously they should be stuck back together jigsaw fashion
To satisfy my geographical neatness passion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
*This is the latest in my series of Nutty Geographical Poems.
Take a glance at your bedside atlas to see the places mentioned.
with all the scientific discoveries
and the myriads of innovations
the scientific man is a vast failure
now think about these;
reproduction by binary fission in humans
perfumed by-product of digestion
blue blood in place of boring red
winged flight to the skies as birds
self-manufacturing of food as plants
upgrading of life expectancy to 1000 years
elimination of old age and wastage
prediction of year of death at birth
geographical location of heavenly world
turning ocean space into solid earth for living
an amphibian humans living as fish
conceiving humans that think one way
making humans into solely peaceful beings
scientific man, where are you?
pick one above and play into reality
THE SANDS OF TIME
We stop-- unquestioning the expertise of our Game ranger
focused--examining sand and road for tracks
Uncomprehending, we ponder waiting for clues he may disclose –the light of dawn
Finally- three words:”Do you see?”
A revelation for him
We try to discern—revealing imprints on a dusty road
Man of few words, he speaks again: “footprints...not animal...fresh, close and recent”
Bushmen behind a thicket of shrub
Authentic and unique-nomads in the Namib Desert
“A family... hunting” he enlightens us further
We sit warm in blankets and woollen scarves
They crouch, short in stature, hiding—naked and shy
Feeling uncomfortable, inappropriately wrong somehow..
Binoculars and camera’s enforce the contrast-awkwardly
Our arrogance, whilst they are natural –reticently
Our Ranger details informative dialogue—geographical lectures
Nomadic in their habitual housing, hunting skills faultless...
Every imprint in the sand tells its own story
Many not wanting their legends uncovered
Invasion – intrusive, identities discovered
We linger no longer—luxurious Game Lodge beckons
Enjoying a breakfast we had no need to hunt for
Copyright© April 2013—Kim van Breda