Best Glorifies Poems
I find you alone
in your favorite room of sorrow and suspense,
the woman I cherish more than victory or divine sense,
long untouched, you stare into a sonnet of romantic sadness,
supple shadows dress you in stubborn, gothic passion, a quiet finesse,
they know that I am the speed of your tears and the lover in your trance,
as I see what your heart has wept for, tender acceptance
I understand why my soul seeks your emotional opulence,
with my powerful hands I hug those lonely, sexy shoulders of tired independence,
knowing by the ease of your neck's pining tilt, by the searching gap of your starving lips
no longer are you startled by our love, no more will you deny the lust righteous,
gliding the backs of my fingers up under your smooth chin skin, beauty so generous,
I find you passion thrown,
I undo your bodice and your soft feminine flesh opens onto me
radiating craving that glorifies yearning,
I entreat you to grab my hard affection, to feel the firm rush replete
to place the head of my love within you like a heavy heartbeat,
you obey with unquestioning need, eyes alight, thighs wide
I lunge in deeply, completely, pushing through you a pleasure tide
as you breathe in the handsome shock of your fulfillment
I kiss the soft space inbetween your sumptuous breasts and taste wild wonderment -
J.A.B.
She laced her eyes
closed with the ties
of lover's binding vows
she's flying blind
to prick your mind
with thoughts
she's writing now.
She's gained conclusions
from her flight,
and virtues from your smile,
she felt your face
in blinding grace,
she glorifies your style.
The double helix
spirals on
to form us as it may,
we choose another one
to be
a place for us to stay.
The atmosphere
there crackles,
with lightning
on her tongue,
She spins around,
in sightless sound,
and shatters..........
deaf and dumb.
Why people why
About so many things I want to let fly,
Political correctness is like a stick in my eye.
Capitalism and greed over helping others, WHY ?
State sanctioned murder, yeah let the innocent fry.
Apathetic laziness, will lead to obesity,
Get moving people, it’s hard but it works trust me.
My lazy Son the millennial wants it all to come easy.
His education costs a fortune but it should be free.
I like Rap music but not the way it denigrates ladies.
The way it glorifies drugs makes me crazy like rabies
And the language is horrid, no ifs, buts or maybes.
But worst is violence towards kids or on babies.
04/05/2018
The Little White Church
The little white church engulfed by the immensity
Of Western Hemlock, Red Cedar, and Douglas Fir
On Nootka Island in Nootka Sound
Confirms the remoteness of the Yuquot Village
On the west coast of Vancouver Island.
The green of the trees towering above and around
Glorifies the whitewashed wood of the chapel.
Surrounding the path leading to the entrance
Are coastal ferns leaning as if pointing the way,
Akin to a Westminster Abbey in the rainforest.
The windowless facade structure faces the ocean
As a defence against the wind’s many directional forces,
While crosses protected in the yard by a picket fence
Bear testimony to Christ’s presence
Among the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations.
Above the door to the house of God,
A steeple rises with a cross on top
And a bell that tolls to call the “people of the deer”
Of Friendly Cove to gather, worship, and pray
In Jesus Christ’s name, Lord and Saviour.
***
Note:
“The Little White Church” is an ekphrastic poem describing the painting of a local church located on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, by Canadian artist Emily Carr (1871–1945) entitled “Native Church” (1929).
A dear friend asked me the other day
"Which is the city you call your own?"
I wanted to give a precise answer
But couldn't find out which one
Is it the city where I was born
That still echoes my murmurs
In the whispers of rosy mornings
And spreads my fragrance with the wind
Or is it the city where I went to school
That still preserves my frayed memories
Of broken pencils and faded pages
And the benches where I played along
Is it the city where I had lost myself
That still glorifies my mistakes explored
In all those struggles that it has kept
Hidden between dried petals of my diaries
Or is it the city where I found glory
That still reminds me of beautiful days
Shared smiles with my parents
And moved forward to find my road
Perhaps it is the city where I hadn't lived
It still carries my experiences with strangers
Of a weekend spent to find myself
In the history of a city that wasn't mine
I don't know which one it is
For I belong to every city I have visited
Left a part of me there to blend in the air
Picked another part and dissolved it in me
With the molecules and moments
That create themselves for me
I look back to every frame that was me
And let it unfurl a history of mine
I am not sure if there exists a city
That we humans can call our own
Or why else would we feel we belong there
When we procreate our lives in those cities
May 17, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE H,any form,any theme
Winner: Honorable Mention
She hides her pain
In the shadows, warring
Filled with hope, grace
Her heart will keep praising
Life gives her trouble
Compassion silences her
Worry and fear with kindness
She is weary and frail
Yet she prays for others
Gives from her treasure chest
Of love, hope and faith
She glorifies the Savior
She is simply amazing
Cancer invades her body
Giving her nothing but grief
Yet she gives out joy
With her life – her anointing
Her faith is her guide
She is wise and so alive
With colorful inspirations
She uses her imagination
To create a beautiful peace
For those who call on her
Those who know her as friend
Confidant – wife, mother,
Grandmother and so much more…
She lights up the world
With her prayers and praise
Her giving spirit – so genuine
So generous and uplifting
Like a rose, vibrant and rich
With colors sent from heaven
Abundant and graceful
Scented with joy, hues of laughter
A feeling so sweet it feels
Like someone breathed gentleness
Through the spirit, pouring
Love over the soul
And erasing all pain or discomfort
In her presence…
There is ever a feeling
Of pleasant reflection
Despite cancer – despite strife
She holds onto the beauty and light
The joy that brings so much charm
Feelings of wonder that linger on and on
Striking flames of amazement
Which guide the heart toward the brilliance
The dance of glorious delight
That penetrates the darkest night
With love that breaks through the black
Bringing miracles of the starry sight
Discovered when the moon’s humbling pearl
Destroys all fear of the unknown
And gives the Creator His applause
With a sincere smile shining down
Radiating serenity with a silent sound
That reverberates through the one
Who knows her – this lady who ignores
All the woe cancer holds for her
Instead giving back to this world
A deep sense of appreciation for His love
She is such a pleasure to know
And I only hope she remembers
Her dance with life is like a gift
To those who know her – care for her
Those who assuredly adore her!
This or That, Vol 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: A Cross To Bear
November 3, 2021
Poetry:
Sees the unseen
Hears the unheard
Comprehends the incomprehensible
Praises our feelings
Exalts our love
Glorifies our God
Describes nature
Expresses beauty
Gives wings to inspiration
Poetry,
The heavenly language
That
The devotees of the Muses use
For
To paint reality as our Lord meant
Reality to be:
Divine!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 December 2018
Moon is proud of her tides
Glorifies her stars
Enhances night’s
Prettiest attributes.
Bringing cosmic magic
To earth
Lighting the way
For wolf howling
Wonderful
Luminous
Nurturing
Moon
Situated in the state of Odisha,
It still glorifies India's ancient era.
It was dedicated to the Sun God Surya,
Being one of the wonders of India.
Built in the form of a gigantic chariot,
It's exquisite stone sculptures captivate us a lot.
Unfortunately the main sanctum collapsed,
And it's exact reason is still in dark.
Renovations are periodically done to keep it upright,
The temple is an UNESCO World Heritage Site!
A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.
From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.
Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.
Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it,
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
Admirable Almights all I ask appreciatively allow me to attain,
be beyond bourgeois breeding ballads for the brain.
Create colloquialisms that cast competently into chimeras,
directing dramatists with doubtful determinations to
delightful dactylic discriptions.
Edible expressions that exite eyes and ears,
by freely forming a firm fire you'll flog any frigid forlornness fear.
God glorifies the good, my given gift Godsent thee,
my hardihood's husky, heart hungover with honesty.
I inscribe impenetrable insights, my individuality's
inanimate without improvisation,
other jaws jabber jargon jokingly, my journalistic journey's
like Jesus's justifications.
I know to keep with Christ a close kinship,
lie low then leap to light life is limited.
Maturing moderately I molded motives to mentally
manufacture music,
now naturally notions are necessary, abnormal novelistic natuarlist.
It's obvious this optimist ovulates obscure poetic offsprings,
perception pastel's perfectly personify the pen pusher's
potentcy passionately.
You're quasi qualified like Franz Kafka no question,
respectable written reflection ramble rampant even while resting.
Some scorn and show sentiment towards sonnets I've
scriptured successfully,
the toungue-tied troubadour tallies towering totals of
synchronized terms intentionally.
My untimatum is ultimately unrivaled when using unbreakable
utensils,
my voice vibrates vigorously, visionary with a victorious view.
Why waste what you wrote, wake up, wonder in a writer zone,
poems have vibes like a xylophone.
Heart young, yearn for God 365 times a year,
my zodac is wrong, attitude zealous.
MUSIC – Food for the Soul
Though we can’t touch it,
yet we can feel it,
Though we can’t see it,
yet we can hear it,
for it breathes life to our spirit,
and grants food to our soul,
awakens the melodies to hum in the tub,
a power for people of gospel unite,
and also at festive the heart to excite
though ye be deaf of tone or rhythm deplored,
it has a magic for want to seek more,
the tap of your feet, a satisfied need
poetic it needs to give it a face,
above all it glorifies lovers with grace,
no matter your status give music a chance,
a chemical formula,
your life shall enhance
Great careers are not shaped by hopes,
No one like him to fill easily the loopholes;
The gladiatorial spark which he spread,
Under Tendulkar's shine it got fade;
Mr. Dravid a classical batsmen's epitome,
His generosity here and there roam;
You will always like him on greenery when India 20/4,
With Steyn,Anderson and Martin fearlessly roar;
His defence never failed either it is hot or cold,
He never had been fierce like Gayle's mould;
The wall with 24,208 bricks and 209 tiles,
Unfolds his journey to Cricket miles by miles;
Cricket is a religion in India and Tendulkar is God,
He might be somewhere in the ministry of lord;
No one can create another Dravid,
It takes 16 years of hard cricket to be so vivid;
He was most brutally used by captains,
Sometimes wicketkeeping,sometimes opening anything for the emblem;
Numbers,numerals never gave him favour,
Neither he was a great gambler;
Always cheerful to play the superballs over wind breeze,
Creating some of them into symphony whenever on crease;
With Sehwag,Tendulkar and Ganguly he made great partnerships,
But it was something special with Laxman whenever Aussies gave hardships;
The spark of the traditionalism which he gave in modern era,
Spread the flint of 70-80's cricket vierra;
The silent achiever and steady hunter,
The voracious reader and impeccable learner;
The longevity of facing most no. of deliveries glorifies his patience,
Always eager to learn from from senior any lesson;
This is the story of my favourite cricketer,
Rahul Dravid ,my hero,Mr.Cool,Mr.Dependable;
You will be missed by million hearts,
A mode of inspiration for me by creating a legendary benchmark.
And
WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME???
The pity…
I can’t stand the pity in your beautiful eyes.
If I could tear out my heart
I’d hold my hand over yours as you fight in
vain to keep the vessels from erupting.
WHY ARE YOU HERE WITH ME???
Can’t you see I’ll drag you down with me?
I believe in love, it’s true,
but I’m ninety percent introverted. I can’t let
anyone into my personal space. Especially you.
I just can’t do it.
I refuse to compromise and yet I’m surrounded
by impunity.
I dare not submit in the face of patriarchy
I spit on book knowledge in a society that glorifies ‘diplomas’
My arthritic bones laugh at me whenever I
start a new exercise regime
My mouth craves sugar and my
heart spasms in the wake of cholesterol
My eyes shoot daggers at you as my
hand charms you with poetry. And yet…
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??
The back of my head aches and I drown myself
in cheap pain killers and back door laxatives.
I mean, what am I to do when I can’t afford a brain
scan and my family is lounging in poverty?
Lately I find myself forgetting things, mixing words,
Misspeling phrasis… But I’m a writer…
Aaargh!!! Why is this happening to me?
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW???
Stay away from me, my love, my precious.
I don’t want you near me when I self-destruct.
Can’t you see??? …I just can’t win…
In this wicked den of society, there will be no eradication
of meanness and ignorance.
With sore and bleeding evidence.
Mankind will endeavor to manage to violate
God's will with debauchery and licentious behavior.
For it is in the heart of the righteous that glorifies our Lord and Savior.
It is the heritage of God's spiritual creatures above
and below that will venture into the everlasting.
The love of God is not in the passing.
The righteous will be a spiritual mysticism (union with God).
A cultural Zionism.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake.