Best Honours Poems
In the twilight spirits come to play,
listen closely to what they have to say.
In the early dawn, they will sit with you,
and greet the sun that shines anew.
As our sacred pipe gets passed around,
through billowing smoke, some prayers are found.
A ceremonial tradition that honours all things,
come join with us as the Great Spirit sings.
Enlightenment comes when you open thy heart,
it's never too late to make a new start.
Beings from the stars will you lend us a hand?
To help unite this Earth across every land?
Categories:
honours, spiritual, star, sun,
Form:
Couplet
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
Categories:
honours, humanity, perspective, science,
Form:
Rhyme
What would be of me
if you could be with me
How would be my present days
if ever you were spared other few days
I open wide my heart so as you I can see
and stand in awe of the woman I would see!
I will not weep or tend to lament
just swallow every moan and each lament
I knelt to the grace of God’s Hands
for the blessing to kiss my mother’s hands
I prayed for a time to once again see you
graced with your presence and a kiss from you
The woman I see as I close my eyes
that’s you, mum, the apple of my eyes
I do remember now my promise and vow
in my words I’d honour your Beauty I avow
Precious praiseworthy parent, my very pride
a sweet scented Rose, a lofty tree in your pride
Envy could not sow its seeds into my heart
as your passionate Love would immune my heart
Here I am on a special day that honours every dear mum
what I feel no words could bear as you are not here, mum..
Besma
Written on March 3rd, 2021
Edited on May 29th, 2021
Mother’s Day on May 30th, 2021 (In Tunisia, celebrated on the last Sunday of May)
Happy Mother’s Day to all the amazing mums in the whole world!
Categories:
honours, beauty, bereavement, blessing, celebration,
Form:
Couplet
Mother Teresa
She is the mother of every poor people, injured people, ordinary people...
Always we remember the great news
'Mother Teresa will get the Nobel Peace Prize.'
It was one of the best moment in our life...
She lived in our city Kolkata (Calcutta) .
She ate our Bengali foods.
She loved us so much...
One day, I was twelve years old
I met her at Mother House along with my parents.
I looked at her heavenly eyes.
I touched her sacred feet and hands.
I heard her divine speeches.
I love her innocent smile.
I told her only the sentences,
'You are the mother of the world,
Mother of my parents.
So you are my grandmother.'
My father hesitated. My mother was silent.
Mother Teresa said to me with smile,
'GOD BLESS YOU MY SON'
Today my eyes are full of tears
Mother, I miss you.
I love you so much....
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
(Mother Teresa founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Roman Catholic religious congregation, which in 2012 consisted of over 4,500 sisters and is active in 133 countries. They run hospices and homes for people with HIV/AIDS, leprosy and tuberculosis; soup kitchens; dispensaries and mobile clinics; children's and family counselling programmes; orphanages; and schools. Members of the institute must adhere to the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, and the fourth vow, to give "wholehearted free service to the poorest of the poor".
Mother Teresa was the recipient of numerous honours including the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2003, she was beatified as "Blessed Teresa of Calcutta". A second miracle credited to her intercession is required before she can be recognised as a saint by the Catholic Church.)
Categories:
honours, feelings, love, mother, tribute,
Form:
Prose Poetry
shadow beautiful
outline smooth as wife
but mannequine
touched her softly still
dreaming oneness through feel
though statue stood still
wife shook my sweet dream
real replacing plastic feel
me still as statue
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Hitendra Mehta
February 2011
Honours - 9th Place
Members Contest - Special Sentimental Senryu
Sponsor - Linda Marie - The Sweetheart of P.S.
Categories:
honours, confusion
Form:
Senryu
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Categories:
honours, conflict, deep, prejudice, pride,
Form:
Quatrain
Garfield, a loveable famous, lazy cat,
Who likes to eat and eat, that’s why he’s fat,
Jon his companion, Garfield’s friend or foe dude,
On call twenty four seven, to give Garfield food!
The world knows their love hate relationship
And of course Garfield's innermost thoughts,
Each an amusing quip!
He is the cleverest, wittiest cat, he’s a star,
His charm, and fertile mind reaches afar,
He loves to eat, sleep and then to repeat,
His sarcasm no other cat could ever beat.
Garfield regards Jon as his permanent box changer,
Perhaps Jon should give Garfield a thought pager!
Garfield, shouts Jon, why do you everything scratch,
Don’t shout, you silly human, give me a scratch patch!
John emphasises, Garfield you’re lucky, you have
A teddy, a dog called Odie and a loving companion, me
What else could you want, a bowl of lasagne says he!
A mouse runs by, Jon says Garfield catch it, but
Garfield doesn’t like hurting mice,
And so says Garfield’s thought quip,
Will I ever get that through your thick skull,
Or do I always have to give you an earful!
Garfield teases big angry looking dogs, makes
Faces at them, and when they chase him,
Runs to Jon who picks him up and then Garfield takes
Advantage as he sticks his tongue out,
So the dogs attack them both, Jon
Scolds Garfield who looks at Jon, with a pout!
Garfield cartons were recognised and awarded
Top honours and were rewarded
With accolades, in the Guinness Book of Records
Congratulations to the author the late Jim Davis,
Who made billions and achieved worldwide status,
And who created these wonderful characters,
Manipulative and coffee dependant Garfield,
Not forgetting Odie and Jon,
All of who brought us laughs by the ton!
Garfield was an era, a striped, intelligent thinking cat,
Who refused to ever hurt a mouse, that’s a fact,
But who could eat lasagne every day of his life
As his greed for this meal was truly rife!
I could carry on forever, but will end with what
I think is a laugh,
Jon asks Garfield why he has got such a lot of
Junk in his bed,
Oh this, Garfield grins, it’s a whack bonk, with which
I am about to hit your head,
Our furry friend sarcastically said,
Rather, thought in the quip,
It’s a wonder that Jon didn’t chase him with the
Scissors, and go snip, snip!
Categories:
honours, cat,
Form:
Rhyme
MEMORY
the soul understands time
and moves through it
like wind through the trees
the soul respects the future
while it honours the past
but lives in the present
the soul knows dreams
and speaks about them often;
dreams are light bridges
that allow the soul to wander
and the mind to wonder
the soul dances around eternity
like a butterfly in the breeze
a soul has no desires or needs
it is strong and weak,
it is soft yet unbreakable
so bright it is invisible
but not untouchable
this soul remembers sunsets
and togetherness
because memory is soul-speak
my soul remembers the look
in her eyes and the touch
of her hand…
my soul remembers love,
my soul remembers you.
Categories:
honours, destiny, love, soulmate,
Form:
Free verse
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Categories:
honours, analogy, character, feelings, mythology,
Form:
Quatrain
Jesus made it clear to love one another
but sometimes this can be very hard
only when the holy spirit enables you
to love your enemies like no other
We need also not to rejoice
when we see these enemies fall
be sure never to wish for bad
things too that they won't stall
Remember the words of the Lord Jesus
to love our enemies doing them good
if they have a need you must meet it
no matter how you feel even in a mood
Forgiveness is an act you must do
as Peter asked Jesus how often do I
forgive one that offends me so
seventy times seven was His reply
Remember God's great word of command
love God fully with all of your heart
and your neighbour as yourself
this honours God in no small part
("Do not rejoice when your enemy falls,
and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles,")
Proverbs 24: 17 (esv)
Categories:
honours, bible, god, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I was first picked up
In a cast-off shop in Liverpool;
Surrounded by racks of seasoned shirts
Bearing names of old soldiers.
“Draper” draped on an immature frame
In a collage of brown and green,
Overlapping and enveloping
Any semblance of a past self.
Baby-faced and militant,
The paradoxical camo in an urban warzone.
Slogans painted from shoulder to shoulder
In pungent, nuclear-white bathroom paint.
The smell is burned to memory,
Singeing nose hairs with chemical vigour,
Of dance-generated sweat, upturned pints,
A lover’s aftershave, the sting of cigarette smoke.
Washed once, maybe twice,
But anxious eyes watched the spin cycle,
Fearing specks of dislodged paint
Covering my muddy canvas.
Now “Draper” drapes a matured frame,
The only scent that lingers is
The petrichor of Northern summer
Tie-dyed deep into my fibres.
I bare a name that isn’t mine,
Memories of a life I did not live,
Scars from battles I never saw,
And honours that aren’t mine to claim.
Categories:
honours, allegory, fashion, identity, life,
Form:
Free verse
(CHORUS)she's hope tied to a rope of possibilities
she chokes, in reality its hard to cope
despite facts that life nowadays
seems like a stolen joke
she still tightens the rope
because she's hope
(Verse)
she stares at stars like mars looking for a planet
that would twist her sadness into a new raw core genesis
without an apples tale, without eve being snakes prey
hope prays and pays attention to Wisemans words
that creates ideas instead of nightmares hoping
god still cares even if our sins are beyond worse
(CHORUS)she's hope tied to a rope of possibilities
she chokes, in reality its hard to cope
despite facts that life nowadays
seems like a stolen joke
she still tightens the rope
because she's hope
(Verse)
She lullabies the moon while the spotlight approaches
heading into her cave she waves "SEE YOU NEXT TIME''
She was once a prey to the beast which feast on minds and lands
where hunters get hungry in their own country limited by boundary
hope honours all even ants in this earthy ball scrolling entire planet for hidden truth
She vividly retained ancient prophecies that said men will be destroyed
by his mind one day with intentions, modifying inventions
hope sworn she tried to warn earthlings before truth got torn into parables
but after all she's hope remaining within boundaries of her character
which she cant defy......she can only lend us hope and can never be broke from it
because she's hope
(CHORUS)she's hope tied to a rope of possibilities
she chokes, in reality its hard to cope
despite facts that life nowadays
seems like a stolen joke
she still tightens the rope
because she's hope
Categories:
honours, courage, hope, inspiration, pain,
Form:
Free verse
sometimes I smile wondering how we were all moulded
With beings calling themselves true worshippers of God
With this gospel of Christ that was spread by apostles
People led by the Holy Spirit and never loved the world
Thinking deep about this gospel that leads me book of
Psalms 1:2 where God meditates in His own word
Day and night knowing that the word is Him
Leaving me wondering why He created me
Giving me a clear reason that am Bound to worship Him
Many Christians are lost yet they represent spiritual kingdom
Logging ourselves in every Sunday mornings has been a habit
Criticizing the sacrifices made by true believers
Forgetting that they stand by revelation 12:11
Where they conquered the devil by the blood of the lamb
Christians are charged with hearts of jealousy and ill mannered
Forgetting the first love of Christ Jesus in the beginning
Making loudest noise and giving largest parts of their wealth
To cover the true selves of the demon that built an altar in their heart
Not forgetting Matthew 23:4 where they tie heavy cumbersome loads and let other Christians carry for them
Like Pharisees as Isaiah prophesied and said
They honour God with their lips but their hearts far from God
Where they speak of love and are in light skipping 1 john 2:9
Whoever says is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness
Smiling and nodding for Titus 1:16 where they profess to know God
But they deny Him by their works like the glaze covering an earthen vessel are fervent lips with with an evil heart in proverbs 26:23-26
Feeling the agony of the Holy spirit of how His church
Has turned to be a den of robbers by also
Rejecting the true way of Christ and avoiding paths of righteousness
Only to remember God in times of high tides and hurricanes
The house of God has been clothed with punctures of
Hypocrisy, greed, first class honours and taking advantage of weak souls
For the day of the Lord is coming running to revelation 22:12
Where He will pay according to our deeds
Where will you be standing in the day of judgment
And what will you represent that day
When all doors of help will be locked .
Categories:
honours, bible, confusion, devotion,
Form:
Epic
triskele* at half mast
full military honours
no birdsong is heard
Jan Allison
17th July 2015
Country – Isle of Man
(* pronounced tris –kel 2 syllables) 5,7,5 SYLLABLES CHECKED
The triskele symbol (as found on the Manx flag) is very characteristic of the three interlocked and conjoined spirals found in Celtic art throughout Celtic north western Europe
Contest:- You Country’s Flag - Skat
Categories:
honours, community, death, pride, soldier,
Form:
Haiku
The Nameless
Slipping through the sieve of history,
the nameless rest.
Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.
Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.
The nameless rest.
Their silent sacrifice,
quiet ordeal,
muted trauma,
remain interred,
amongst their remains.
The nameless rest.
Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.
Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.
The nameless rest.
They rest within us,
they walk with us,
in every step that we tread.
They rest within us,
they walk with us,
for their spirit is not dead.
“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow
Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.
My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.
Categories:
honours, black african american, dad,
Form: