Best Grander Poems
I’m tired of knowing
That because of my race
Because of where I live
Because of my last name
I’m part of the band…
The children of a lesser God
I’m tired of knowing
That there is so much hate
That it can only escalate
Till someone presses the button
And we blow up in nuclear hate
All because
Some of us are children…
Children of a lesser God
First world
Second world
Third world
Labels and degrees
Different ideologies
Religion no longer a balm
But something to cause harm
Human life of differing values
We mourn them differently
for some of them are children...
Children of a lesser God
How it must make God cry
When His children bleed and die
Unable to understand
That there is a grander plan
One of perfect harmony
In another place in time
He won’t be sitting at heaven’s gate
Asking for an ID
Or checking your nationality
He won’t see the color of your face
Or ask about your race
All He will want to know
Is if you let love grow
Did you live according to His will?
Did you try to relieve suffering and pain?
Were you the bandage of peace
that bound up the wounds of hate?
First, second, third world people
Are all children of one God
Though some may disagree
I ask you all to see
That we are all
Every single one of us...
Children of the Greatest God.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Emotions flooded my very soul as I viewed that Sacred Wall.
Etched for all eternity are hero's names who sacrificed their all.
I sensed that I was on hallowed soil as I knelt on bended knee.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
I offered a silent prayer for each of the names that I caressed.
Tho' their time here was brief, by them we were truly blessed.
They placed national destiny above their own defending liberty.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
They were ordinary Americans who performed extraordinary things,
Such grand and noble acts to ensure that freedom's bell yet rings!
They gave their full measure that humankind might live free.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
What might they have become, I muse, had fate not dealt them so,
A teacher, doctor, a farmer? Alas, we shall never know.
To teach nations The Golden Rule, I suspect would be their plea.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
Tho' grander monuments have been built for those of greater fame,
This simple yet powerful memorial will keep alive the flame,
Of humanity's quest for brotherhood, peace and dignity.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Tho' I am but the sparrow's twining strains
The palette and the pen of whisp'ring souls
I'm sweeter, still, if dashed upon the shoals
Or bleeding from the hem of day's remains
Tho' I may weep from all a scoundrel feigns
For what each soldier's dying breath extols
It's grander, even, morning's meadow rolls
As spindrift, tossed upon the grassy plains
Oh, I am found the coursing thru all things
As warm within your veins, as sunset's sky
My constancy, to love and swoon and hate
To stir in hopes or see what passion brings
So guard me, close, or open me and cry ...
I'll bound and thrum and patiently ... await.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Open Me First" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
A fearful, jagged place
Yet wondrous to the eye.
A place for hardy mountaineers,
The Black Cuillins of Skye.
No place for the timid
Imposing in their might,
But to stand and look upon
There's ne'er a grander sight.
Interlopers amid rolling hills
A ridge of fierce repute,
Standing aloof, magnificent
They challenge rope, and boot.
I ran by this thing with haste, that malevolent beast as to school I went
Centered In a beautiful field i never played, because we all knew of the shallow graves.
We never saw them, no one dared to find them, and no one ever even looked
For the other children that were buried there, trust for a child is given by word of mouth.
The rumors grew, as the tulips did in the field that held That Old Red Barn.
A child’s fancy, the minds plaything sometimes given over to the rule of what it thinks must
be
Because Jennifer said it, it must be so; I don’t dare to find out the actual truth. I’m not that
brave
So I leave it alone, this beautiful thing, because the cover does not always tell the story
within.
If I had given it a second glance and not been so scared that I didn’t notice,
That just beyond the reaches of the trees at its circumference laid a house of golden hue
And in those walls, a grander story than even of that of “That Old Red Barn”
A family of two … now ancient to me spent their time growing corn and raising grain
That would one day come to the table I sat, nourishing me and giving me strength.
Letting me have the energy I need, to quickly run by “That Old Red Barn”
So that I could fly past this place that they built and in their hearts would always treasure
I don’t think that they knew of the fear it instilled all because of one child’s rants
But now that I know and am older now, I look out my front door and see what they mean
This Beautiful Field and “That Old Red Barn” once seemed a curious creature
Full of fear and malevolence, they were too old to invest the time to restore it to splendor
So I purchased from them all this vastness of pleasure, That Beautiful Field, and yes “That
Old Red Barn”
Written By: Ryland Joshua Matthews
Date: 11/13/2010
If a wind of change
were to stifle truth
and peel the eyes of the blind
If a grave was the
gate of immortal dawn
where the sad trees lean
over flowers forlorn
For seven eternities
I will wait for you
Until silent death
splits my heart in two
I will follow the dream
of a never doom
To await your sun
in a nether tomb
For forever means all
in a grander scheme
and the blue of the sky
is an ever dream
Suzanne Delaney
When I awoke from dreams I'd made at seventeen,
I will look around....and what I see
is how swiftly autumn came to be
The countless years have come and gone,
and still I long for all those dreams
The many schemes, now tinged with blue,
a bit askew, construed regrets,
So futile yet…but they linger near
My eyes were wide with expectation,
when youth was mine, at seventeen
I never had a solid clue
what path, direction I would go
Yes, I did have plans and dreams and schemes
I would touch and teach and rush to change
the world, the way no others could
I'd make an impact in the chain...
My offerings would light the dark
I would be heard, I'd leave a mark, a brighter spark
A legacy would be my life
No matter the pain, or the sacrifice
_
Of course my life had other plans
I stayed, on course…like others do
My dream turned into sanity…
Those youthful schemes had sincerity,
I see them now with clarity
What I've learned since then, makes sense to me
Some things are simply meant to be
Those dreams became a family…
My offerings have changed the world, in grander ways
I do believe...
My children came, one, two, and three,
I never dreamed of dreams so real
Supreme adults, they are today
And that is why my heart is full
How dreaming dreams, can still come true
and often is
in fact, the true, remarkable
reality….
Yes, you're one sexy witch, dear love, but now it's Halloween,
And I've a witchy tale to share, so keep your broom between ...
Five decades hence I knew the thrills of flesh, and did imbibe,
Yet there's but one that's apt to still pop up, let me describe:
It starts with just a tickled tip that twitches toward my toes,
As oft' can be a grandeur glitch, until what's grander, grows.
In dermal terms, my skin can squirm to feel infirmed and wet,
What fairer sexes call 'the glow', (we lesser-fair's call 'sweat').
Now when that glow has burst, I'm first immersed in finding you,
For you've the spunky junk to free the monkey from his zoo.
I'm damned if I can speak, my cheeks just bubble up with suds,
The things that hang or dangle, cursed to tangle with my duds.
I'm apt to find my fingers filled with zippers, buttons, snaps ...
And spouting things like "I love you", to fill the awkward gaps.
Those tickles turn to tingles and they mingle through an urge,
That brings our things together 'midst a single clinging merge.
Its fever gives new meaning to the old phrase come-and-gone,
And your sexy pose, (and fewer clothes), will always bring it on.
Now please don't fear, my vixen dear, when tickling has begun,
No stopping what is popping up, there's lots of hopping fun ...
The barrel of my kitschy gun has schemes it needs to hatch,
And when my love-lust itches, hon, it's you I aim to scratch!
Written and submitted on October 21, 2019
For the "Itch, Witch, Glitch, Or Twitch" Poetry Contest
Nina Parmenter, Sponsor.
Giving into emotions wildly
passionate in thought but softly
thinking realizing meaning
dreaming during an evening walk
listening to the tone of my heart
conquering shyness and pity
kissing the lips of nature so golden
A mounting trail of grief and tears
real and salted in a wound so fresh
finding beauty so pure and honest
forgiving all in a moment’s flash
finding love again so sweet so pure
eyes moist crying soft part of the soul
running fingers through hair so soft
I seek your presence always
intense in feeling
hopeful in intent
always playful always
sweetly kissing your lips
gazing deeply into your eyes
touching holding feeling
My love is present forever
this soul moved and cherishing
golden tear drops emotions pure
dry their splashes laughter comes
living each moment to fullest pitch
saying only “Hi” and never goodbye
full of meaning most wondrous true
How precious our love is always
ancient treasures no greater nor grander
wishing always everlasting memory
wanting the best against all odds
seizing the day making all joyful
crying and forgiving always
making our spirits our souls one
Walking in that sweet summer wind
all cares away emotions present
embracing warmly and often
caressing in the moist warm wind
kissing most divinely and often
finding our destiny and love so true
crying tear drops rejoicing in life
Angels and happiness pervade our thoughts
the light the intensity the feeling so
consummating our oneness whole
dreams fulfilled passion rewarded
our hearts beat now as one as one
under Mother Nature’s umbrella
passion love emotion feeling forever
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
Schoeningen, Germany (October 20, 2014)
(Free Verse poetic format)
Unlike most
I have been over there
Where life is nothing
Mummy and daddy blown in the air
Where little ones starve
Where big ones kill
Proclaiming is all Gods will
I with my pen, how do I sit still?
Ants in the rubble
Of tyrants bombs
Or maybe just poverty
From political aplomb
Abu was a drunk
A hero of sorts
For at least standing up to the court
I am a coward for turning my back
Yet here I am, humbled and tired
There are Tigers grander and greater than I
White helmets and saviors
Who walk into the fires
He who saves not only his mind
He saves the child otherwise left behind
Clouds overhead are filled with dread
For some of them always seem to be left for dead
I am an ant
An insignificant sort
I only hope one long day
For a King and his consort
To do all the things
That makes me shiver in fear
Stopping the bloodshed
Bring us all some hearty cheer
Most of life is spent in
hope for better things yet
expectation of what is to come
or anticipation of what could be
and while this is good, even necessary...
Focusing on the few
more “memorable” moments
misses out on much
of the spaces in-between:
Time with loved ones
time amid others
time to ourselves
time spent going places
and getting things done
time spent sitting utterly still
Such seemingly mundane spaces
on life's broad canvas
are the underpainting of the portrait
that our life becomes
the basis of the character we create
moment-by-moment
day-by-day
While more exciting times
are mere small fragments
on their own, a sad display
an infinitesimal, tiny sample
of the grander scene of life
So slow down, dear ones
Breathe deeply, remembering that
rushing only leads to rudeness
Instead of slopping through
these middling spaces...
Correct some of their ugliness by
brushing them with beauty, a little each day
Carefully choosing each word and action-
coloring them with kindness
Be honest, but without cruelty
Stop tolerating the intolerable
stop committing to what you don't want
stop rejecting what you truly need
life is a limited commodity
don't squander your time or anyone else's
Clothe yourself with humility
artist's smock of life
the covering that allows for
mistakes, creativity
and continual learning
Make the most of every moment
especially
the ones in-between
you might find that in the end
they were the most precious times of all
This my advice to self.
Stop lying to yourself.
The smiles betray the hurt that runs to deep.
You need to stand tall .
Stop becoming bitter even if its what your name means.
Always love, make it your motto.
Let this hatred of self-doubt and self direct lies disappear.
Because the hate will get you every time.
Always love yourself.
How can you tell this to everyone but yourself.
Loosen up and dance, feel the summer’s breeze.
God will forgive you if you let go.
Remember you dreams because they have died in your cave of reality, of every day.
Stop suffocating your spirit.
Let it run free with your dreams and believe.
Time won’t stand still for you.
We may always be destined to remember but never can we always go back and change time.
Step forward and give yourself room to sometimes fail.
Life is about mistakes and despair, otherwise how will you ever learn.
Be an example not an exception.
If you stop hurting yourself with this doubt .
Then you can stop the hurt for your children..
They are your future.
You have to learn to hurt and get over it.
This is God’s blessing.
So You may be able to apprecatie what is giving to you.
Mary , why do you hide and hurt.
Have you forgotten the love that fills your life everyday.
It may not be money, a nice house or a car.
But it is a house full of laughter.
Hugs and kisses at night.
Gratitude for being a wonderful mother and wife.
You let this hatred of doubt become your greatest fear.
It’s evilness has slowly killed your courage.
Believe in your faith and remember this is all part of God’s grander plan.
Forgive yourself for not being able to resolve life’s problems.
Instead emerge full of strength that guides you to always love yourself.
A young man bought a tight pair of fleeces,
And their stranglehold filled all the creases,
But the fit was so thin
That he couldn't begin
To pump blood to his bits ... and his pieces.
Well, they made him look chic as expected,
Though his girlfriend was feeling neglected,
Cuz from belly through bum,
His poor junk was so numb
That he just could NOT get it ... erected.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "What's Bugging Me" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Bawdy Limerick Contest - Let's Keep It PG-13" Poetry Contest, Tania Kitchin, Judge & Sponsor.
* One of my weaknesses is expensive clothing, and my pet peeve is the new "slim fit" men's suits and clothes - I hate the way they look and feel, like a little boy who can't afford new clothing and outgrows them. I can't WAIT 'til they go out of style! * ;o)
("The World's Greatest Toy" is the motto and ad line used by the makers of The Erector Set, which I had as a boy and remember fondly ... though the word later took on much "grander" meaning, lol)
* Syllables - 10, 10, 6, 6, 10, counted at HowManySyllables.com *
The quote is from William Shakespeare's play, Hamlet,
spoken by Hamlet in Act 3, Scene 1.
"To be or not to be, that is the question."
But, what's the explanation of- to be?
Hopes for more than only one suggestion;
and so, I offer this which pleases me.
To be is that one choice tween life and death,
not only of the flesh but of the mind.
And choosing life is being with our breath;
and feeding thought creates life well-defined.
Yet, some may say that life's not just to be,
and brush off any joys it holds within;
to shut their minds to blackness others see
no matter in the ground or 'neath the skin.
Some say great life just happens on its own-
those highs and lows exist beyond our will;
that happenstance determines path alone-
in what we'll end up feeling- pang or thrill.
The choice is yours: with hope, it is to be;
the opposite negates life's grander prize.
Must live life to its fullest guarantee;
block not- just be, no need to compromise.
She's a diner girl
A trucker's fantasy
A little bit tough
While being sexy
Sure she likes to flirt
A tool of her trade
She has them dreaming
Thinking they'll get laid
The tips all add up
For dreams of her own
When her shift's over
She goes home alone
You think you know her
She plays the part well
Your glimpse of heaven
Her personal hell
Her expectations
Are grander than this
She desires more
Than a truckers kiss
Nothing can stop her
Or get in her way
The World needs dreamers
Who dream better days