Best Grain Of Salt Poems
Upon waking up this day, a single tear
Father your eternal immortality
Still proves wise and gracious
I haven’t been misled by popular opinion
Which should be taken with a grain of salt
You showed me how to expose the counterfeits
who foster misperceptions,
Which have shaped our faith
How to think with an open mind, heart, and soul
Father, your every word was a rare gift
A worth guide__
A teardrop of glad remembrance and a
Prayer for your soul
Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it
be salted? It is henceforth cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. Matthew
5:13 KJV
In ancient history, salt was sought and bartered. In some places it was carried by
camels across scorching deserts such as in West Africa where eager merchants
traded it to waiting customers. Salt was used for money in some places, thus giving
us the word salary.
Today salt is used for many purposes, stocked in grocery stores, and is available on
virtually every table.
We use it medicinally, and blocks of salt satisfy cattle’s craving. Salt in water raises
the boiling point, yet salt melts ice. Put salt on meat and it preserves it. Leave salt
off the table and your appetite leaves with it. But too much salt is harmful. It makes
your feet and legs swell and too much is hard on the heart.
Examine one grain of salt under a microscope and note its cube shape. Its sides
are made of two elements, sodium and chlorine. These combine to form sodium
chloride – salt.
Imagine soldiers in a tug of war. An ion of chlorine glares from one corner at a
sodium ion guarding the opposite side. As crystallization occurs the chlorine wins in
the stare-down. Sodium surrenders its single valence electron to chlorine and
together they become sodium chloride. Consider it in verse:
Salty Sentinels
Sodium ions stable,
assembled on the table,
salivating palates crave.
Chlorine ions tiny,
mustering soldiers briny,
guarding corners brave.
Sodium chlorine making,
crystal shakers shaking
cubes so salty white.
Ever fighting blandness;
vectors adding grandness,
enhance the appetite!
There is no wonder Jesus used salt as an example to the disciples in his Sermon on
the Mount. He exhorts Christians to have salt in themselves and have peace with
one another. See Mark 9:50
You might take this with a grain of salt
Knowing I heard it on the grape vine
Why they let the cat out of the bag
I'd say your guess is as good as mine
They say I tend to sit on the fence,
Off my rocker by not a far cry
That I'm not playing with a full deck
They should let those sleeping dogs lie!
Because there's method to my madness,
And I'm to blame if things go south
So I'm not beating around the bush
You heard it straight from the horses mouth!
"No, I won't read you, no matter what!"
"Even if you get a POTD, I will keep my heart and pen shut."
Such a terribly, nasty state of affairs.
When they associate only with top poet lairs!
I had enough POTDs to already know who would prefer death! (by name).
Than giving me a soul squeeze,golly, they may run out of breath?
I take it all in,with a big grain of salt.
Better that, than getting totally drunk on malt.
To those who are here, to a relative newbie.
I prefer love to disingenuous snooties!
***************
@And hugs to all, who do read me. M.L Kiser had it
right.
"Are you here to collect comments, or are you here write poetry?"
The answer is clear, my dear.
Thumbs up, M.L... Thank you for saving my poetic life!M!
Hugs...Pangie Romios
Think of yourself as a grain of salt
in Gods, filled with love salt shaker
Salt he adds to his eternal soup
enhancing with love he savors
There are a very few grains
close up to the top
They,the innocent ones
are the first to drop
Also many others
in this big ole salt shaker
Poured to the exact place
to be used by our creator
Yet,some stubborn grains
still clinging to the sides
In disbelief that it was He
who created their simple lives
If you feel that you've been moved,
at any moment by our creator
Think of these loving grains of salt,
being shaken for the love he savors
Dan Kearley:10-9-12
Why Poets Write
Why do poets write?,
Why does the moon shine at night?.
Why does water fall with such grace?,
Why is a rainbow such a beautiful sight?
So, why do poets write?
Do they write because the moon shines so bright?
Do they write because water falls with such grace?
Or is it because of the majesty of a hawk, in flight?
Poets write because that’s what we do,
Whether it be a Sonnet, Etheree or Haiku,
We see things through our own prism,
And write about it in our creative point of view.
This is why I write,
I write because I see beauty in the moonlight,
I appreciate the splendor of a waterfall,
And the majesty of a hawk, in flight.
I write because it feeds my soul,
Writing the perfect poem is my ultimate goal,
I write, I do my best,
The rest is out of my control.
The perfect words, in the perfect order,
Follow the rules, no pressure,
Slowly see your creation come alive,
When it works, there’s nothing better.
Poets, generally, don’t write for the glory,
We heal people by proxy,
We are emotion peddlers,
And we do it all for free.
I can’t speak for everyone, nor would I try,
My urge to write is something I’d best not deny,
Or things go drastically wrong,
Like ice, in the middle of July.
So, regardless of why you write,
Keep your vision in sight,
Take criticism with a grain of salt,
Never get discouraged, never get uptight.
© 2011
I am in deep despair
I fear my name he will smear
I don’t know who he is
But I hope he uses a little sense.
I understand My Cowboys
Heard about OUR LOVE STORY
And this one guy
Says he’ll tell ALL
I don’t know what he can tell
Billy wasn’t a gossip
And neither am I
So whatever you do hear
Will surely be lies
I didn’t know how to title this poem
Head Hung is used and also Boo Hoo
And I didn’t know what to do
So I though I should at least warn you.
Please, Please I beg of you
Take it all with a grain of salt
And if you should choose
A little bit of lime is good too.
So I hear
THE ISLANDS OF SAN JUAN - TIMESHARE
[FOLKTALE]
IN A PORTION, A SPELL IS CASTE.
THE PEOPLE ARE CALLED NUGLUMMI.
IN A TRANCE STATE, THEY EAT HONEY AND BEES ARE FORM FROM THEIR EYES.
INSIGHTFULLY THEY BEGIN TO TRANSFORM THE TERRAIN AND ISLANDS FORMED FOR THE FREEDOM OF WOMAN AND MAN.
THE PEOPLE OF THE SEA ARE FREE IN THE PUGET SOUNDS.
DOUGLAS FIR GROWS TALL.
THE LANDSCAPE IS EVERGREEN AND THE LUMMIS ARE SALISAN.
DIALECTIC VERSIONS OF THIS LANGUAGE ARE POSSESSED.
THEIR LOGIC IS HOW THEY TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES.
*
THE PENINSULA THAT RESIDES IN THEIR TOPOGRAPHY IS VAST IN SHAPE AND FASHIONED BY THE UNINHABITED PORTAGE ISLAND WHERE THEIR RESERVED LAND NOW LAYS. LIKE MANY NORTHWEST COAST TRIBES, THEY GASTRONOMY CONSISTS OF THE COLLECTING OF SHELLFISH, GATHERING OF PLANTS SUCH AS CAMAS AND DIFFERENT SPECIES OF BERRIES, AND MOST IMPORTANT, AS SALMON FISHERMEN, THEY DEVELOPED “REEF NETTING.”
THEY ENJOY POTLATCH ON THE ORCAS ISLAND, SAN JUAN ISLAND, LUMMI ISLAND, FIDALGO ISLAND, PORTAGE ISLAND, AND NEAR POINT ROBERTS AND SANDY POINT.
IN ALL NUGLUMMI, WERE COMMERCIAL TO THEIR TRADE.
THEY GREATER HARVEST IS TODAY.
THE PADDLE TO LUMMI IS 68 CANOEING FAMILIES PADDLING HAND-MADE CANOES TO THE LUMMI RESERVATION FROM PARTS OF WASHINGTON STATE AND BRITISH COLUMBIA.
**
[TODAY]
THESE ISLANDS OF THE PUGET SOUNDS IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HEAR.
WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, THE SEA SWEEPS THE BEACH.
REMEMBRANCE IS IN WALKING SILENTLY AND HEARING THE TRIBAL SINGING IN SALISH.
THESE ISLANDS ARE A CASTAWAYS HAVEN – A HARBOR OF CONTENTMENT, WHICH LAY IN BRITISH COLUMBIA AND THE NORTHWESTERN UNITED STATES.
ROMANTIC ENDEAVORS ARE BASED ON YOUR IMAGINATION.
THESE ARE THE SAN JUAN ISLANDS OF WASHINGTON STATE.
MAY YOUR VISIT BE SAFE!
***
sleeping (( COLLABORATION * Don Johnson ))
by~ DON JOHNSON
The Nullabor it does abhor
the desert in it standing
The broken heart
he keeps apart
where Eagles are a landing
kangaroo is prolific cos good seasons bring in millions
they shoot them for the last hundred years,
Hoppy is still there in millions
Almost a plague after rain
The cure the joy the madness ploy, just catch a little Shiela
but broken hearts tend to self destroy
The one true love, to feel her
so searching for the lock of eyes upon the Nullabor
kangaroo does abound, dead straight the road for sure
Ironic tale sour grapes inhale,
He sleeps upon the plain
his swag is near the old Ute, and the dog is ever watchful
his protector is a beaut
~civilization calls~
he has to go back to the city streets
And searching ever searching for the eyes of lady sweet.
***by~ POET D:
Searching and searching till weak eyes fall asleep.
~civilization calls~
Calls the plague of raining streets!
The sleeping kangaroo took me into the abyss of sour grapes.
A wildlife with wildfire turned over by wildflowers.
Seascapes; full of sand that no one dared to understand!
Drowning underwater in a universe that had no expand.
Where the passer-by's felt the expression of sadness in his sleeping face.
All it took was experiencing the world with one lonely look.
A grain of salt, in the night sky!
Where clouds ‘walk-sneak and / clouds-cry like a whirlpool’,
Tears from a near by fountain deep in a valley.
Where we can sing for roo's sleeping heart.
Death in a wild flower mourning asleep on the hour.
Seeing’ is believing when Shiela appeared.
Drying tears with her sweet eyes over the desert lands.
A Collaboration with *DON JOHNSON
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
I’m thankful that I’m a woman
With the power to beguile
With charm at my fingertips
And bewitchment in my smile
I’m proud to be a woman
Of genders the fairer one
With a silken soft beauty
And aura to match the sun
I’m glad to be a woman
Of creation the very best
The epitome of all the finest
By whom mankind was blessed
I revel in being a woman
Full of such delicate grace
The one to woo and dazzle
With passion etched on my face
I relish being a woman
For I’m able to dominate
To conquer and subdue
With one motion to subjugate
I celebrate being a woman
To have voluptuous curves
Not angular and muscled
But supple, with gentle swerves
I jubilate, for I’m a woman
Made as a help meet for man
To console and nurture him
Add my wisdom to his plan
Yes…oh yes, I am a woman
I know what I’m capable of
At times I am a tigress
At others a gentle dove
A woman is the essence
Of beauty and all that’s good
Men, I advise you to be careful
And treat them as you should
For women are little girls
Made of sugar and of spice
Now do be good little boys
If you want them to be nice!
YES, I’m thankful I’m a woman
I embody pleasure sweet
To be found in my presence
Is a never ending treat!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
OK men...take this with a grain of salt...C'mon! It is the International Women's Day. Show that woman in your life a little bit more love today, for where would you be without her! ;)
A man, 20 years of age, another man, 40 years of age
The young man in his inexperience asks the 40 year old man
"You've lived twice my life, whats your advice?"
The older man pauses
Reflecting on his own life, in hindsight..
He says:
It is said by many
The best teacher is experience
This statement is true, but experience
Does not equate to intelligence, or intellect
As both do not equate to experience
With every word from spoken by a man in his youth
It is received by the senior with a grain of salt.
Though in reality, they are both adults
What distinguishes a person whos lived longer?
Is years of learning beneficial if they accomplish little?
A decade spent listless watching days blend together
Carrys more wisdom, more growth than 5 years of struggle?
To believe this I refuse.
Adults of seniority, arent always mature
Bickering, arguing with each other,
Talking over the other
Neither letting either get one word in edgewise
Their bodies mature, years experienced
Yet arrested development has left them
Adult children
The fresh face child who endures struggle
And is given responsibility,
Experiences his growth as man
A man who never has had to struggle and grow
Is stuck in his adolescence,
I'm as honest as the day is long which means
I'm more honest during the longer days of summer
So if I tell you something in the winter
Take it with a grain of salt
There's a good chance I'm hoodwinking you
If you ask me directly, of course I will lie
In the middle of the summertime
I'll be forced to divulge all my past exploits in lurid detail
For I am unable to tell a lie
In the spring and fall it's a fifty-fifty proposition
Maybe I'm lying, maybe I'm not!
Have I totally confused you?
I need to go lie down!
© Jack Ellison 2015
How do we elect all Presidents?
It is incredibly simplistic.
We go to urns and cast our votes in.
'But why?' I asked myself this question
Incessant multitudes of times; in sorrow.
All politicians, including presidents,
And, by their own admissions later,
In their memoirs and sudden recollections
Are incorrigible occupational fibbers.
We always take what they promulgate
During election’s lengthy process
With hugest grain of salt and still,
At the end of it, we learn it all in books…
Titled the same:
‘I would if I could!
But I couldn't, so I didn't!’
I Shall not kneel...Beyond the depths
Of the tears... Long since have fallen...
Nor shall I gather... Again amongst them..
'Less their untimely stage of demise...
Binds the hands of space and time..
And I ripen into a single grain of salt..
Amidst their long standing...Watery grave...
I even voted for Ross Perot once and Reagan and consider myself a middle of the roader. The biggest problem the Republicans have right now is a lack of experience. Who else has been through all that Hillary has? She has a husband who is a prior President, She has been a first lady of both a governor and President, she has been
a Senator of the Largest state in the United States, she has been a Secretary of State, she gave birth to a child while being a first lady (only one ever to have done such of a thing), has endured and put up with the Monica Lewinsky as well as Whitewater Incident, decided to save government money by putting everything on one cell phone instead of two, suffered every physical and mental embarrassment, prejudice and discrimination that no man has to suffer and after all of that has still decided to run for President again. With all of her education, experience, background and connections, who else could possibly be better than that putting all partisanship aside. That is sure one word that should be thrown in the trash. If you can't say something positive about anything or anyone, why say anything at all? If that was the case, guess we wouldn't have any newspapers or news shows left. Take all of this with a grain of salt be it big, small, crunchy or perfectly clear like Nixon used to say. Right? Oh, and not only that she has over 40 years of governmental experience. Some resume. All of that would make a great poem. Now what form and category should I call all of this?
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran