Best Immemorial Poems
There's a time to run, a time to rest
A time to take stock, a time to reflect
A time to forgive, a time to forget
A time to beget, a time to reset
A time to surrender, a time to fold
A time to be brave, a time to be bold
A time to speak up, a time to be still
A Time Immemorial ~ to do His Will
I hear you in the wind that blows
through fairy-forest trees.
I sense you right around the bend
in musk and mushroom breeze.
I see you in my own son's face
and recognize, you're free.
Halo my heart,
though you depart,
you're always here
with me.
Between liking and disliking
While the reason being an arbitrator
But do you see the rift between
Sane and insane ?
That the privileged ones of the era today
Conveniently and keenly prefer to ignore
To differentiate between the two
For it is their lust for power (not prowess)
For it is their greed for grip (not random)
When the truth silently creeps between the duo.
They are skilled craftsman of beautiful lie
They are excellent spoliators in disguise
As the saying goes ‘ hay when it is sun ’
And for these magnificent ones
Any day is sunny day.
They open the gate of allurement
Lo, throng the crowd of odds and evens dull-witted
All of those underprivileged are roped-in
Here these magicians erect
Hypothetical mountain rise so high,
Hear the mighty illusionary oceans splash,
With hollow promise and assurances
All these wrapped in attractive packs
To gift away those poor souls
That never see a sun shine.
They are masters of your nation’s destiny
They want peace at all cost.
Not in the nation’s interest
But in their own interest,
They pledge to resort to anything
To achieve their goal of peace
Treachery, bribe, brutal force or divide and rule
They are not reluctant to avail any of these.
Y’know, they have the honour of dividing the nation
At the brink of communal line,
Here they play the game of emotion and passion
Followed by a mass blood-shed, rapes and mass exodus.
They would give you anything but freedom and liberty
Take all moons, stars, planets but peace,
The reward of your toil
Those starry twinkling sweat,
Not yours,
The blood that travels thousands of miles in your body
Again Not yours,
That salty water wailing out of sockets of your eyes,
That waif and stray tears,
That too Not yours.
It is they who are the masters of your blood, sweat and tears,
It is all because you have given them mandate to govern you,
To be more precise, to serve you.
Just who the mighty one can stop
Niro from playing flute
After city he sets ablaze !
Memorial Day – 2020... since time immemorial
crème de la crème strongest and bravest
forsook their lives eternal peace they rest
honored and revered succumbed mortal test.
(now pardon ma faux pas
from dis po' pa try'n 2b sleek)
line six starting here necessitated minor tweak)
Officially called Decoration Day
proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan
first observed on 30 May 1868
Waterloo N.Y. officially declared the birthplace
by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966.
though seven and three fourths score years since
(minor emendation regarding time frame)
Appomattox, a psychological balm
helped stitch frayed nation to calm
served as silent psalm
since bombardment at Fort Sumter qualm.
National holiday most adept
at uniting Civil War fallen soldiers
when fiercely armed as brother in arms crept
against opposing forces, which took
by surprise “enemies” or found inept
ill prepared troops with surprise mortal
blow which ambushed attackers leapt
mowing down valiant soldiers, thus
becoming slain grooms who eternally slept
sorrowful lamentable hymns from
widowed brides tears wept.
Cease fire that day
terminating internecine flay
o’er mounds of earth whence
bones o boys donned blue or gray
a day of remembrance for those
who died in our nation's service lay
celebrated this last Monday every May
one must know tis not about division nay
boot about reconciliation
and sacrifice brave heroes did pay,
the price of their lives for granted
freedoms enjoyed as american lee-way.
Forsooth, now we cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
Early season wind,
a butterfly stoop towards:-,
is it to west or east?.