Best Harnesses Poems
Eternal Best Friend Forever
Eternal, everlasting, enduring one God without end
Joins me in jubilant jumping up worship jubilee
Spirit sends a scented sunrise of newborn surprises in songs
Miracles made manifest in majestic melodies
Healer when regret harnesses my hobbled heart,
When I lose luminosity in lightless valleys of shame,
Arms opened wide to the abiding, the ageless anthem;
Best friend forever – I feast on flowing fountains of forgiveness
Gracious gift of grace granted to gyrating inspiration
Sweet sanctuary of sleepy serenades ‘neath slumberless stars
Pictures of hearts pirouette in my praise - parading through my pen;
My constant companion, creator, close colleague of comfort
Pensive I ponder your playfulness – knowing my pleas pledge a peace poem;
Savior of my soiled spirit, of sinners and saints – lover of my soul
My thankfulness throbs – tingling thrill - twirling into my thanksgiving
9-20-20
My Relationships with God in Alliteration
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
Categories:
harnesses, forgiveness, friendship, god, love,
Form:
Alliteration
Electric cars are coming
Driverless ones too
I wonder if you feel
as disappointed as I do
If you remember the thrill of the road
with the top down on your car
Wind whipping your hair wildly
Speedometer's needle your guiding star
Accelerating on the freeway
Punching out at green lights
Burning rubber at those stop signs
Crossing the country, seeing sights...
Never again to 'see the USA
in our Chevrolets,' we are
surrounded by sensors, alarms and air bags
belted in seat harnesses and gagged
Categories:
harnesses, car, change, future, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
We gather on the streets
Lining up in the cold
Waiting just to see them
Remembering days of old
The harnesses made of leather
Their bells are colored gold
Horses pull their carriages
And prance into our souls
Here come the Christmas carolers
But Santa steals the show
As the children gather candy
Look how their little eyes glow
Our hearts filled with Spirit
We enjoy each rendition
The Old Fashioned Christmas Parade
A Lawrence, Kansas tradition
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
*inspired by Carolyn's "Christmas in Your Town" contest.
Categories:
harnesses, holidaychristmas, christmas,
Form:
Narrative
Open sesame
An arm of Cern watch
Related to the eight pointed star
Sharing light
unto the mainstream
where no one
is even guaranteed a tomorrow
Truth never hides away
facts always remains
An old babylonion Queen
arises scarlet spilling blood of the innocence
Standing at the gates of hell
Venus guarded by a pride of lions
With a symbolic staff
on an eight pointed star
Begins firing up a ceremonial ritual
deciphering the clay tablets
Cernunnos horned one
You claim to be master hunter
half man mixed with beast
Holding the snake in one of your hands
with a gold torc around the neck
Signifying a person of high rank
Disturbing the normal order
of nature and things to come
Including religious beliefs
and the general code of conduct
In this awful state
that harnesses it's own power of attractions
Balancing the heart and mind together
can tip with scales
Those heavily influenced by the serpent
on an eight spoked atlas detector
with coils running into a circle
Inside the middle houses an ancient world evil
Used in the past
from right angled arms drawing out
from the centre
Embodies a paradox of witchcraft
in an eight world region
at the dawning of history
Where it was written
in the skies falling down stars
Sons of anarchy
Your entrance was sealed in the ibis
An underworld into the bottomless pit
Destroying souls your aim
through the rock of faith demonic locusts
A co written piece by Liam Mc Daid and Maria Mc laughlin it's related to research on Cern and the symbols used
Categories:
harnesses, betrayal, conflict, dark, evil,
Form:
Free verse
Like an eagle out of Egypt...flying faster than the wind
Leaving many shackles, chains and cages
Leaving sorrow and sickness and a multitude of sins
How, where or when? He really doesn't know...and really doesn't care
He only wants his freedom
Destiny awaits...he takes that dare
Super charged and scared soon he's chased by 600 chariots
Those vultures full of vengeance they want him back where he belongs
They sing their songs...he does not listen
He's only heeding Heavens voice
With force and fury out of Perdition he flaps his wings toward Paradise
Now his body is getting tired so he harnesses his hate
His fears they give him fuel as his feathers turn to flames
Soon he's a sole survivor...family and friends to him are dead
They still bow before the men with whips...to their wickedest of whims
He can feel their scars and stains still salvation keeps him safe
A double dose can't devastate
A triple threat can't cause him terror
Many arrows shot right to his soul...still his father takes him further
Finally he turns around and sees a special sight
Something so supernatural a mortals mind could not describe
The vultures they all vanish...swallowed in a sea of red
Still he flaps his wings much harder so he won't break dance with the dead
Far from harm he hears a voice so warm and full of love
He sees a nest with no thorns and he makes that nest his home
That eagle out of Egypt is told one final thing...
"Never use your freedom in a foul way or you'll soon become a slave"
Categories:
harnesses, bible, blessing, freedom,
Form:
Blank verse
Down they swooped, so keen,
In perfect vee formation
Bronzes, browns, a green
Two blues and, showing elation,
Lastly, at midpoint, the great golden Queen
Beloved of our tiny nation,
Their plate sized eyes awhirr
As they sought new station.
The sulphur smell
Near knocked us out
Reminiscent of the hell
Of the recent rout.
They parted ranks to let her through
She landed, claws ascreech
Then the cohhort came in two by two
Onto the hold’s deserted beech.
We stood and stared, such is their beauty
Wiry wings preening, scales a-gleaming,
Nostrils wide, flaring; we forgot our duty
Watching the huge claws, necks and tails a-steaming.
A cry was heard, we’d near forgotten
The riders perched high and tiny a-dragon back
We caught ‘em as they slid down harness rotten
From exposure to dragon-flame
And invasive. searing enemy thread
Dragonback fighting is no game
‘Twas a mercy none were dead.
Into the hot baths the riders tumbled
Soon to get out, red and scrubbed,
And all to refectory they then stumbled
And as they ate, shoulders would be rubbed.
Outside dragons noble, groomed, of all harnesses relieved
Rose as one and pointed to the prairie
Soon became small, on their way to feed
On herd-beasts fleshy and not too hairy
And so we went to the inner ring, there
To spread fresh grass for dragons’ beds
And check their water with great care
And bring pillows for their noble heads.
[Apologies to Anne McCaffrey.]
Categories:
harnesses, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
"Why!' The 'why' is irrelevant!
The 'why' is counted for everything,
The Satanic stands for; to bid his.
His soul: aimed at the chaos of humanity.
His nectar is disparity, he harnesses.
He walks and breathes with fervency!
He stands for rebellion, unto which:
He grows bigger and stronger,
Against everything good!
He falsely informs love:
Whereas he is incapable of doing so.
He walks and breathes cunningly!'
Though I walk in the shadows of death;
I shall fear no evil doing unto me.
I am armored; I will be able to stand within.
My battle is hard; his chaos is so strong!
What's this I walk through?
He walks and breathes so cunningly!"
Categories:
harnesses, dark, death, emotions, endurance,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Write Right
I have written inside the box,
worked under the pain of the
literary lashers, choked back the
crimson ink of penned passion.
Occasionally, a blot of defiance,
a subtle innuendo, a more
obvious double entendre,
would escape the “Proof”
readers. As if there is some
proof needed to justify
the roots of my passion,
the depth of my meanings. Then,
by happenstance of brief encounter,
a mentor said: “Just write it kid.
Let them figure it out.” Thereby,
I was set free to love the challenge,
embrace the barren landscape,
ski words on the fresh fallen powder
of the unsullied page. And so I write
not seeking to produce a masterpiece
but to become the master of the piece.
Holding edges on the sharpened
turns of life, enduring the moguls
pounding thoughts, peering into
whiteness streaking past,
and laughing at the thrill
of freedoms fear.
I write – that I may write,
that poetry might have my voice,
share my voice, be my voice.
From outside the box I shout
that there is a freedom in the
harnesses of forms when we write
with the fury of our storms.
8/10/2014
For Regina Riddle
contest - Writing
Categories:
harnesses, writing,
Form:
Free verse
A leadened heart devoid of trust
until an alchemist came along,
turning it into gold-
Or so it seemed...
Trust, broken trust.
It was now a locket that held secrets,
that had a key protected by fear
Hidden in the darkness of silence-
Or so it seemed...
Secrets, imprisoned secrets.
There was one escape, only through tears,
tarnishing the heart all the more
Somehow encrusting it forever-
Or so it seemed...
Tears, overflowing tears.
This river led to the sea of silence,
and stayed there.
Eerily still, no undercurrents perceived-
Or so it seemed...
Silence, deafening silence.
Numbing, unwavering trepidation,
kept all those unwanted secrets safe
Weakening the heart, deeming it hopeless-
Or so it seemed...
Trepidation, paralyzing trepidation.
But fear also harnesses strength
and the alchemist within was the key
Breaking the silence, unlocking the secrets-
And so it was...
Strength, energizing strength.
This eventually led to tenacity,
tears hardening into diamonds of courage
Allowing the waves of silence to finally crash
And so it was...
Tenacity, freeing tenacity.
The heart now had a soaring spirit,
with a fire emboldening other hearts
Infinitely turning lead into gold-
And so it is...
Spirit, emblazoning spirit.
This thus far is the story of one heart's triumph,
written for the world to know
Giving hope and gilding hearts-
And so it will be...
Triumph, crowning triumph!
Categories:
harnesses, inspirationalheart, heart,
Form:
Free verse
It's morning and just turning light.
The streets are still of traffic
without a soul in sight.
The milk as been delivered
and papa's letting free
the horses from their harnesses
then he'll set himself for tea.
He hates to make the effort
of getting up I say,
of milking dear old Bossie
and shooing hens away.
For they scratch and dig in mama's garden
a thing they shouldn't do.
But Jim has left the gate wide open
and let the bunch get through.
Now Jim is oft to school
to to learn his p's and q's.
He's getting rather upity
he thinks he's rather cool.
Not right to let the hens come in
to scratch in mama's plot.
He wouldn't like it none at all
if I took his toys to play.
He wouldn't like it none at all,
but I think I'll just do it anyway.
Categories:
harnesses, growing up,
Form:
Rhyme
Captain Cleopatra was feeling very pleased today, as she stood, on the bridge of the Federation's Moonblaster 5
This was her first command after passing out of the "Universal Academy of Feline Officers" and she held her tail high
Being in command was alien to her but with the experienced Probate Officer "Moon Martial Macafferty" by her side she was feeling good and relaxed inside
Orders were clear, war had been declared on Dalmatian Galaxy U, after intelligence reports had spotted a Special Forces Dog Unit, stealing bones from Feline Cemetery Interior 2
Now they had been tasked with this campaign and she would follow her orders through but to do it they would have to travel three thousand light years to Cosmos Blue
Moon Martial Macafferty had issued the crew, with extra large aniseed balls which he knew,
would tempt the Special Forces Dog Unit out of their bolt hole, on Moon Alpha Seven, next to "Mount King Cole"
Cleopatra looked out of the bridge window, at the distant sun, she put her paw to the holster, which held her stun gun, She thought "soon", very very soon, we will pass the twinkle line, on the dark side of the moon
Planet Atropolis looked beautiful at night, with its seventy six, astral fire flames, dancing in the light. Her Mother was Resident Queen Mouse Clearer, The highest honour to bestow, to rid the place of vermin mice, she had took the vow
Macafferty with his long golden whiskers and his full length fur of blue, whispered "your in charge girl" it was time to go, she knew
She stepped up to a loud hailer, "ATTENTION CREW, GOOD DAY" fasten all your harnesses, we are on our way
Categories:
harnesses, adventure,
Form:
Ballad
In May—When The Nomads Migrate To The Forest-side Meadows
=========================================
Give him, a glutton, Excessive doze of the drink—
An ancient Arabian queen would give his king at bedtime
And leave to her lame lover in a den.
Or if there is a Greek flower to smell!
He‘ll wake up in a dozen weeks time
Like in a long dream,
As bears with the thunders in springs.
I’ll ask my maternal-grands’ well-off gujjar friend
(Supplying them laborers in springs—in land preparation time,
and in late summers—at harvesting.)
Arrange some dozen horses—
Black and brown, hairy and tall.
A couple of mares followed by young naughty foals.
Loud ringing harnesses, soft dip-seated saddles.
A herd of some thousand goats and sheep—
Baby lambs and bucks—
Leaping and sprinting in joy.
A long buffaloes’ herd, some half-mile long.
A dozen dogs and as many bi'ches.
Some roasters, and golden earrings for the big egg-laying hens.
Goatskin beddings and a tall tent;
All-- in our procession.
And a travel, to the far fog-covered grassy meadows,
There,
Across the northern forests and river.
We’ll enjoy long spiritual sits around high flaming fire,
On the lawns shall take walks in night.
We’ll talk by the bank of the garrulous brook in moonlight,
For hours shall sex as the unmoved frogs in seed-time,
And shall bath together in the brook, every cockcrow.
I promise you, my nomadess,
We’ll live decades in days…!
And return with
The sacred souls stirring in joy
Inside the bodies filled to the top.
Categories:
harnesses, romantic, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
I lurk in the shadow of band with words worthy of the pianist's hands. My nature speaks, not rings in tones. Sadly my lady's words rain dour doubts building wall's of stone; let the music of voice reign! pleasure rain! Chip the stone pebble by pebble and remember your name, it has never changed though life's outcome shall by not embracing the day. Love me as I love you and we will be love true. Remember your mother's music, for it is the womb's tune that guides you through and through. Do those young eyes forget their right to stare without regret at revelation of a soul bared? My world harnesses lust, truth, love, desire, these attributes I long to share. Befuddled? Yes, I can be. It's nature not the choice of me. Even thoughts forgot wander wondering at how it can be, pride over perjury? Shame takes precedence sadly through time, preceding all I believed to be mine. Defeat? No... I don't think, though, I cannot deny slight retreat. Where are the lies built on emotion? Those protective cries that hold dominion over forward motion? As always, truth stands in solitude as the only word as brave as love. When truth possesses love and selflessness! Can it actually be as it appears after all the year's of the damned favoring me? In closing it seems I'm fending the fears that taught my years the wizardry of all that I have seen.
Categories:
harnesses, age, courage, devotion, growth,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Definitions Continued
Intelligence - Using wisdom, knowledge or understanding to discern intellectually, derive/create, contribute or correct.
Intelligence - "The manner (learned or intuitive) at which an individual conveys information to others"
"Music is lovely, persistent, sane, orderly and refined motion"
"With persistence and sanity, discovery(an impact) is likely to be in the making"
"Love is infinite (prolongs into infinity/brings infinity) whereas hate/greed brings (closer) an end"
"Imagination may come with limits~flaws, but it is the unraveling of truth/s that brings understanding~discovery~knowledge~wisdom"
“Intelligence is the capacity to understand (identify), and derive (create/generate/display) from truths/facts (display truth/fact)”
Intelligence – ability to derive/exhibit/understand something that harnesses truth/appeals universally/predicts events/solves/ blue prints/templates inventions
Intelligence (1)- The "manner" at which something is done. It consist of two processes: "The thought that propels the manner, and the manner that "may" reflect the way the thought is expressed .
manner - learned or intuitive technique or manner of expression/ the derivated manner of expression
Forms of Intelligence : Full Intelligence and Partial Intelligence.
Full Intelligence : Involves the deliberate or intentional reasoning that propels the manner at which the reasoning is expressed. The thought (intentional reasoning propels the manner). The thought initiates the manner in a creatively expressed way.
Partial Intelligence: Uses "Recepto-recreativity" a term I coined meaning retaining of information or steps/mode of doing things (algorithm) without deliberate reasoning. This involves a manner of doing things, here, the manner is exhibited without "necessarily" deep(intentional) thought process.
This is exhibited by quick "accustomation" to information (these may occur in people who quickly accustom to themselves to things easily such as reading 20 novels and narrating each very well) or people who cram information and regurgitate when needed.
(Information above are based on author's observation and are taken from no source)
Categories:
harnesses, on writing and words,
Form:
I can’t stop for you now
You are holding me by reigns that don’t exist
Why are you holding so tightly?
I can’t breathe—I can’t understand!
I allowed you to take my hand for the ride
I’ve allowed you by my side
But you turn away when others arrive
I feel like I’ve been tugged by the lot of kings
Of cruel beings threatening to chop my wings
I feel tattered and sore
And the journey drags because you always want MORE
What more can I do?
I can’t stop for you to catch up
Hitch on or move on!
If you can’t see that I care
Why are you here? How much more should I bear?
I’m torn without your smile
The extra silence squeezing from bile
I don’t mind the quiet but I hate your screaming
I can’t always be the one to be intervening
I can’t stop for you on every road bump
I’ve got to keep going—I’m sorry
You don’t have to be behind
You can go on ahead—would you rather be dead?
These harnesses are nothing—your effortless frustration kills me
And if you say nothing, what say I?
Must I stay and wait for you to reply?
Must there always be a hello—a goodbye?
WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES
WE ALL HURT OVER WORDS
Why then, can’t we heal over silence?
Categories:
harnesses, angst, art, confusion, courage,
Form:
Free verse