Best Gra Poems
Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
How come you hold the key
To the Eden's apple and gra-vity
You allure me in like a meteor in space
And scrumptious is thy Apple's taste
Just as Eve, I couldn't resist your charm
As Your aura feels at home and warm
Like the Earth I hover in the space around
And like the sun's pull, you keep me gladly bound
So here I stand, ___ over the Moon..!!
Content ____ within your enchanting cocoon!
They say
?There are a million ways?
To say I love you
In this day and age?
I could only find
?In my computer’s brain?
The words
to say I love you?
In 53 languages
of the 10,000 languages
?Spoken on this planet
Someday I may be able
?To say the simple words
?I love you?
In all know languages?
This will have to suffice for a start
So I will say it
?Loud, and clear?
Just so you understand:
I love you (English)
Mein tumse pyar karta hoon (Hindi)
?Tu Tane prem karoo chu (Gujarati)
?Ame tomake bhalo bashe (Bengali)
?Me tula premkarto (Marati)?
Hum apse mohabbat karte hain (Urdu
?Mein thoda prem karanga (Punjabi)
?Man Dooset Daram
(Persian)
?Ana Ahabik Yanooni (Arabic)
?Havala (Hebrew)
Yongchon(Chinese)
?Aloha (Hawaian)
?Cinta(Indonesian)
?Dangshinun sarang hayo (Korean)?
Ajo (Japanese)
?Kasih (Malay)
?Phom tirak khun krap (Thai)?
Akoay Paginghe ikou (Tagalog)
?Toi yeu ong(Vietnamese)
Renmen (Creole)
?Jesuis L’amour voies(French)
?Liefdle (Flemish)
?Estoy amor tu (Spanish)?
Yosono amore tu (Italian)
?Estou o amore tu (Portugese)
Dashuri (Albanian)
?Maiteizam (Basque)?
OBHYAM (Bulgarian)
?Ljubav (Croatian)
?Laska (Czech)
?Jeger en kaerlighed du (Danish)
?Ikben houden van jig (Dutch)
?Gra (Gaelic)
?Ich bin lieben tu (German)
?Agape/eros (Greek)
?Ami (Esperanto)?
Armastama (Estonian)
?Rakam (Finish)
?Envagyok szeretet te (Hungarian)
?Elska (Icelandic)
?Ejekirin (Kurdish)
?Milestiba (Latvian)
?Meile (Lithuanian)
?Eu dragoste tu (Romanian)
?JHOBOEL Lubush (Russian)
?Elske (Norweigan)
?Easka (Slovak)?
JBYBAB (Serbian)?
Jagdan karlek du (Swedish)
?KOYATH (Ukraine)
?Benin sevi sen (Turkish)?
Ahava (Yiddish)
Ngingu u thando ungu (Zulu)
Back in roman times I was called a stylus
I wrote messages and stories on papyrus Writing since Before Christ,
Don't matter what the time is
Even wrote for the great poets known as the vikings
I translated Roman-to-English with just hyphens
I can go back and forth on the timeline
Used by the dude who even wrote "Mein Kampf"
But before that used for maps to draw islands
I even wrote that rap and I screamed "BYE STAN!!"
I've seen everybody’s diaries, but I don't speak
I write the dreams they have seen, it's punishing...
I'm their best friend at quiet times
For poets,and rappers that write rhymes
Or artists, that compose the lights eyes
Oops I mean the end of night, it's the "sunrise"
I cry when they draw their mental picture
I miss it easy, like the ancient Egyptian scriptures
Last week I wrote a broken heartfelt letter of a boys dead sister
His tears made me smear, smudge and bitter as well
I mean i'm supposed to be emotionless, but this feels like hell
I guess literature is the only way I help
This is how I'd explain it, if someone asked how I felt
I'm literally consumed in everybody’s literacy
Different languages, but I still know their history....
I’m the victim see, every word written composes verbal imagery
Even carved Mozarts spirit in every symphony
I take everyones thoughts and write it down lyrically
Have you solved my mystery? I need some sympathy
One second i’m drawing so skillfully, then destroying paper so viciously
So if you’re crazy just like me, take my spot and fight off this infantry
Then you will see, all these sad letters of these casualties
Of when France defended against the great Italy
I’ll riddle more, I was even there when the bible was born
I was even used for the art of the Tribal of course
I even wrote of the tale of the Trojan horse
I even seen the great GRA fight
GRA meaning arts and culture
I’m running out of graphite.
Different Kind Of Host/English
There is a spider on the Cosmos
He is a different kind of host
If you love sweet rich nectar
Soon you will be in his throat
Chinea'l E'agsu'la O'sta/ Irish Gaelic
In' spider ar an Cosmos
Ta' se' ina chinea'l e'agsu'la o'sta
Ma' ta' tu' gra' neachtar milis
Is gearr go mbeidh tu' in mo scornaigh
(If this is not correct, I used a
translater from English to Gaelic.)
written just a couple weeks before the lease at prior abode would expire, and no affordable habitat....just by happenstance and a thankful invisible hand of destiny.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why
death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft Waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb,
his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal DNA wash.
Louisiana on my brain
As I’m arriving in my city of Hammond / Ponchatoula
All I see is a delightful town .
I see the beautiful peaceful swamps.
I see the beautiful bridge that scares me.
They call Louisiana the poorest state.
But I say it’s a special state.
The home of the strawberry festival in Ponchatoula
The home of LSU
The home of the Lions/Lady lions in Hammond
The home of the Brown Pelican
And the home of Mardi Gra.
Louisiana isn’t a ghetto story that we talk about .
It’s a place to be peaceful and have good times together.
The swamp tells us that we should have hope and faith in us and everyone we love and respect.
Louisiana is an ambitious state that holds on our generation to generations and to generations.
I’m glad that Louisiana has given me talent.
It ain’t about the grass being greener it’s about knowing what to do and how to make the grass getting greener to grow and rises.
Louisiana is my roots
Louisiana is my blood
Louisiana is my growth.
Louisiana is my love.
Louisiana is my heart to my kin.
And Louisiana is my spirituality when I demise and go up to Heaven to join my dearly beloved Uncle Clarence of Savior.
be-ing...........some-thing beau-ti-ful
is the song.............the ser-en-ade
Herald-ing........................our
unique-ness
origin-ality
singular-ity
alone-ness
Be-ing
a-live to
ex-press
what serves
us from all
other life
be-ing...................to-gether
in our at-trac-tion.....ex-plor-ing gra-vity
common mean-ing.......the good and cred-ible
uni-versal elements..........emanat-ing pur-pose
be-ing...the posi-tion.....scheme....rhyme...reason
be-ing..............the............grati-tude........of that
be-ing.....................the........................ARIA
reach-ing........out........note.....by......note
so...beau-ti-ful......we.......sing
January 12, 2020
Aria
lets pray in honest
he uttered on top of a stinking wart
be ni saapa,nee gra yourta
sama go lasiol,hegoo,he wiwiteiten
bel fiar, biclame rejoicen
benasley oray hale lamemie
lefidiana fue
ablasior furitavaa subkocha
bepivaron cantossum
didencliasiosen even tonfuli
fincala gindedi ricctionedi
hiahame illambicado
lato kambriano listechia
money fumbaria jusfiscu
nagoriflama leeptu hasori
amen
the rain stopped
and the flood began
Not to Show Off One's Learning
(?? ???? ???? ???????)
Instead Self Effacing, B'Tz'nyus,
Otherwise, Imbibe Drink of Ego,
Schnapps in Shrinking Hollowness,
Rather Honor Your Fellow,
Not Me! Nor Mine! but Togetherness,
Elevate Your Jewish 'Bro,
B'Nai Yisroel Cholent Finesse!
Refrain from Preemie Torah,
Too Much, Too Early, Infatuation,
Better Nurture & Ripen in Aura,
Even Rav Chaim of Volozhin,
Was Refused by the Gra,
For Yetzer HaRah was in Suspicion,
'Til a Year of Reflection in Awe,
Passed, Then Yes! from the Vilna Goan!
(fear not stalwart reader, the sword of Damocles just grazed thy chest when fate found us a place to call home).
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today i.e. about two years ago (end of rope rhyme rote
approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why death be not proud
when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward
of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave, de deum, and cymbal crash
to bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in aa flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide while n the edge of thirteen -
anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience whip lash
lacerating, flagellating, and repeatedly rousing thoughts
to circle back to why death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity, and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re:that came a boot from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
In the city's limits at dark,
All the lights were in a glow
From corner to corner stood
The brightness shimmered its shows.
It is something to view at night,
If you haven't been to the city before
Put it on your bucket list,
And go on vacation in New York,
Oh, don't resist!
The hustle and bustle that goes on,
Those street players performing
Whatever their art, craft, or music
They'll be doing some ameliorating,
Be sure they'll do it!
You'll hear the saxophones,
And the brass horns to
Those series of strings bring them
Blues players up from Blackwood Gorge.
The Mardi Gra is the city that lives.
Oh, those blues are playing,
Its echoes are from corner to corner
Those brass cymbals are swaying
Like the slippery, shambling water
On a tin roof when it's raining.
~~~~~~~
Butterflies, dappled sky, monarchs'
Wildlife, butterflies' migrating.
Wildflower meadows' kindle, marks,
thoughts of when I was young, chasing!
Wildlife, butterflies'', having fun!
Now, much older, with camera.
Field trip forays, recording done.
Pics now in an album folder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In iambic tetrameter, italics showing the di DUM di DUM di DUM beat,
Carved are your Cottages (This poem is in English and Polish version)
Rzezbione chaty twoje
Carved are your cottages,
Rzezbione chaty twoje,
embroidered are your clothes.
zdobione piekne stroje.
The ballet is your dance –
Baletem taniec twój -
your music is the forest choir.
muzyka lasu chór.
Spruces for you are humming,
Bo tobie smreki szumia,
wind plays on rocks’ edges,
wiatr gra w krawedziach gór,
water tumbles in the brooks,
tetni woda w potokach,
spring is squirting with symphony.
symfonia tryska zdrój.
Tough mountaineers will,
Góralska twarda wolo,
your lambs are on the meadows –
owieczki twe na lakach,
that's your destiny, even sometimes,
jedyna jestes dola,
all in house is wrong.
choc czasem w domu zle.
Copyright A. R. Wielgus, 2017
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-s52fGWtuI