Best Immoveable Poems
Even Rocks Can Cry
Even rocks wear away with time
and the demands of strength. These
seemingly immoveable objects,
deflectors of life’s raging torrents,
sun warmed seats of contemplation,
bearers of past high and low water marks.
Unnoticed, they sit as observers, watching
as time passes through their moment,
aware, yet unaware, of the softening of
edges, the smoothing of an old, once
craggy face, resigned to the river’s
changing moods, the wind’s cold chaffing,
the sun’s yellow soothing, the moon’s cool
silver chill and the cleansing joy of
a spring rain. Yes, these rocks, these
anchors, depended on for guidance,
for protection, for the memory of
the splashing joy of youth. These rocks
when left too long grow lonely,
shed an unseen tear. For even rocks
can cry.
2/17/2014 --125 words
Remember all the words of the Lord
to receive His healing full of light
be watching with eyes wide open
so you know to push sin out of sight
Faith is so important for every believer
be sure to stand firm in your faith
immoveable abounding in the Lord's work
showing you believe what God saith
Be strong always in the Lord
show yourself approved be like a man
walk in the ways of God no less
seeking His will in His eternal plan
Remember the scriptures God is love
so His followers should be the same
in all, we do be done in love
showing our resemblance to God above
Walk-in step with Jesus our Lord
keeping close knowing His blessed grace
giving thanks for all He has done
the blessed saviour who won our case
("Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love.")
1 Corinthians 16: 13,14 (esv)
In the eye of the hurricane, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : En el ojo del hurracan
(Ninth in the collection : Metafora del Desafuero, published – according to the editor, Alejandro
Duque Amusco – not in 1988, but in 1989, was awarded the « Premio Nacional de Poésia »
for 1989, on May 28, 1990. Bousono, as in these later free verse compositions, shows how
well he manages the long-breathed line, a clear contrast to the compact and elliptical earlier
verse, say, of the collection : Subida al amor. T. Wignesan)
The creatures of plenitude situated themselves holding their silence, the thrones of
inexplicability, exactly, therefore, in the very centre of the eye of the hurricane :
that doors be blown asunder, that windows be blown away,
that agonizing bodies in makeshift beds be smothered into oblivion,
half-dead widows, postmen who half-way in the act of delivering
the love letter which would definitely render us joyful,
the seat where the poor old grandmother was in the act of sitting
while sewing
the newly-born baby’s pony-tailed bonnet which turned around half-
way in the gusts,
the hurricane which uplifted love and all that was left of love :
letters, papers, leaves
of music,
lovers in coitus at the orgiastic acmé and the light,
when it began to dawn,
when the saxophone cleared its throat and commenced the beat of the
dance,
when everything on the stage in its place awaited the raising of the
curtain,
when the wedding was at the point of being consecrated, and the
priest was ready to offer his benediction : « el ite misa est »,
when within the following few moments the inexorable
ceremonial of the written formalities was about to be concluded
then, as I said,
and only then,
the hurricane unleashed its violence with rage, the incomprehensible
hurricane, and there stood still only the immoveable lucid eye,
separate, eminent, complete in its entire being, that by force of its
profundity had ascended to the exact point where it could
redeem its guilt,
the eye of reconciliation,
the eye of wisdom and suave serenity,
where the intact and silenced world sang
adorable and yet so beautiful without us,
necessary pretexts, notwithstanding, of its musical nature.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
My dreams lie past the Windward Islands.
Warm seas clear as azure glass untroubled;
Warm sand soft as baby's breath sound sleeping
In a safe and quiet land...
Warm lips and strong brown arms arms slow gentle
Tender as a night in Paradise - star gazing,
Tender in sublime, delightful ways...
And I am waiting, so untouched by love;
Surrounded by your echo's smile repeating,
Of immoveable ocean's space and heart strong beating.
Oh, my dearest love unknown,
Reach out for me;
You have always been
My dream unhidden...
You have always been
A forever kind of man.
Overcoming Obstacles
His actions all appeared to be wrangling
Horrible voice wish we could be strangling
Message was becoming both loud and clear
To questions asked, he was no way near.
Bernie had been hop, skipping and jumping
Up all of his supporters would be pumping
Languishing loud voice begging and pleading
And forward to some book not be reading.
Said current President's performance was poor
And Hillary supporters started keeping score
Before arriving Obama had been doomed
Republicans had nailed and sealed his tomb.
Failure by Republicans he was set up for
Not only that their policies are now closed door
And many problems in future Obama must face
Door shut was immoveable and did firmly place.
Definitely for failure his assignment was designed
Before he even started was set so far behind
Off from fingers will bite all of my cuticles
Upset by all the Republican prepared obstacles.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran
When things don't go as planned and life seems unfair,
'Tis easy for others to rally about cheering, "Hang in there!"
As you struggle to regain your feet at any reasonable cost,
You'd rather not hear, "Cheer up my boy! All hope is lost!"
When far from safe haven 'midst the billowing waves,
And desperate mariners pray for salvation from watery graves,
Drowning men are apt to scoff at the captain's strange accost,
Who bravely proclaims, "Cheer up me laddies! All hope is lost!"
The crew have completed their raid and are homeward-bound,
Cruising at forty-thousand feet, shells exploding all around!
Three engines sputter and die, excess equipment is tossed.
The pilot calmly says, "Cheer up men! All hope is lost!"
The unsinkable Titanic raced across the bounding main,
Meeting an immoveable iceberg, which was to be her bane!
'Tis hoped that Captain Smith's final words were other than,
"Cheer up! All hope is lost!," as their eternal bourne began!
This little verse was written with strictly tongue in cheek!
There are better ways to express hope when things look so bleak.
Stand up and boldly state when others waver and blindly grope:
"Cheer up, my good men! Cheer up! We'll never lose our hope!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Pendulous eyes, weary and bleak
Immoveable shadows, the unseen torrents
Coyly divulge the once impetuous spirit
On his shoulders, he carries a colossal weight
For his is a cleft vessel, rudderless and floundering
The rise and fall of each swell, brings neither hope or despair
He contemplates the gilded life, an absurd apparition
And slithers back to obscurity where the worm and dreams cohabitate
Contest: This or That, Vol 30 – 2-4-25 Sponsor: Edward Ibeh - Title Chosen: Etched in Stone
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Etched in Stone
Two hearts glare at each other
Clutching their stone tablets
Written by the finger of their rightness,
Guarding the secret handshake
In single sighted delinquent tantrums
Refusing to share the offertory
Of a loving cup -
Consumed by daggers of thoughtless words
Carved deeply in a scarred heart.
Floral offerings wilt
Upon stone manifestos
Where ashes of incense lay impotent
To clear the air
And wipe clean the embedded words.
Passion falls in pixels of distortion
Blurring valleys where sacred poles burn –
Lie in dust written in the past –
Paralyzed
Unable to rise from handwritten crypts
Placed in captive marble altars,
Epithets like an epitaph for love.
Immoveable stone resists the transcendent
Until forgiveness’ chisel
Re-writes the script of etched words
Crumbling in swaddled tears of humility
That know their need for grace
Consummated in love’s perfect signature.
Brown
June 25, 2010 at 1:11pm
This is brown…umbre,
It is shadow and that which you think you see there,
It is a mixture of all colors, and as such, it includes and underlies everything,
It is ancient, born of inertia and speaks of coming to rest in quiet stillness,
Of an accumulation of things expended and discarded,
Of missing or forgetting, decaying and dying,
Of brittle leaves that rattle and shake in the wind on frigid nights,
And crumble underfoot on a familiar path,
On which we all travel, where all return to feed new growth,
Of digging ditches in hard clay, of ground in dirt and sweat stained hard labor in bronzing heat,
Of beasts and men repeatedly plowing the soil, unearthing the scent of things buried and of longing,
Of crusted rust on steel or dried scabrous blood that covers a wound as it heals,
It is solid and heavy, in the smell, taste and density of iron,
It is in the weight and feel of old books, hardwood, an immoveable stone and authority,
And the thick aroma of smoked animal hides,
Of dark tannins and impenetrable murky water,
It is an elusive space concealed by the thin surface of a momentary present,
It is the unseen and the unknown and spurs a hunger to know, it spurs all desire,
It is searching to be and yet remains neutral, here and not, forever watching, always waiting,
It is the color of awareness and a knowing sadness,
It is the weight of all life in the burden of gravity that holds us to the earth,
It is the cry of and the earth itself,
As we so deeply want to fly,
It is what prevails after all else is considered.
Another day, another diet
Another party, another 'Try-it!'
Immoveable object, irresistible force
Something's got to give
O! to 'try-it!'... But abandon my diet...
~ I just can't decide how to live
Meth Bomb, Homicide Village,
Diverse Culture Site, Crown Town,
Kendaltucky and Johnny Appleseed's Homestead;
Tremendous and Troubling and Tortured,
Town of the Long Face:
They say you are explosive, and that is valid; I know of the white powdery crystallized bombs being made under children's beds in the deepest hell of a home
They say you are a cemetery on a cold winters' night and that I must justify with the RGS running the funeral mansion
They say you are congested, and I do believe that there is not a lot of field in range to go through the saloons and institutions
While many of the headlines are validated by the sweating asphalt- this town of mine is home and my hometown is just as flawless as its flaws:
Take me to a more sufficiently lead team of law enforcers picking up the crooks of Kendallville off the road.
Taking a lifetime of folklore and continuously celebrating the satisfied existence like Christians on Mardi Gras or Americans on the 4th of July.
Vicious as bears searching for their prey; amiable cubs jointly loving families and families of families
Sensible,
Persistent,
Exuberant,
Courteous,
Inconsiderate, Impassionate, Immoveable,
Covered in crank, devoured in the brain, suffocated by stigma,
Covered in red juice from babies who bleed from bullet holes,
Covered with resentment all around people who are the same the rest,
Encouraged by devotion taking apart all sin within the field like a first-time Christian opening their heart in the fight for heaven
Lost and encouraged that all things happen in the enclosed surface of a town for Him to save.
Encouraged with tremendous, troubled, tortured loss of the populous, diverse in a congested area, represented by Crowns throughout the town in years past. One finds salvation in the explosion of guilt.
Ing/ed
He was:
timed
lying down
waiting
braving it, the pain, invincible
grimacing
sweating
hedging-his bets
not panicking-yet
pacing
gasping
falling
still
breathless
void
stopped
still
heavy
rock
board
immoveable
stared at
no power
darkness
panic
screaming
doors open
battery - dead
agog
chaos
not alive
taken
transported
sirens
trolley dash
assessed intubated injected
prodded
pulse
adrenalin- more and more
faint heart:beats
monitors
sounds and uniforms, drinks and heat on the corridor
anticipation, but we all know it.
However, where there’s life there’s hope- right?
more waiting pensive heartfelt and pained glances exchanged
more waiting
pumped
injected
monitored
looked at
sung to
shouted at
Blood Oxygen Levels Decrease when taken off breathing machine which, has kindly been breathing for him
feet felt-massaged
prayed to-our little prince Shazad
no movement,
pale
cold
still
eyes slightly ajar
grim future without him- no I can’t; I won’t imagine
unendurable.
More time docs try..
okay- it’s 6.50am Xmas Eve 2014
‘He’s poorly now’..... says the nurse.
Blood oxygen dropping fast... sats going down, down down
sustained only by adrenalin anyway: He went 10.30 pm on 23/12/2104
in the house,
in the hallway.
He’s gone officially - taken.
Rest in peace, my little brother with mum and dad ok!
X
Had a restless night which for me is unusual
Usually, sleep like a baby quite immoveable
Something must be up
No warm milk in my sippy cup
Dreamt of a stunning filly, the attraction was mutual
C_ourageous, consistent, constant, constrained by Love.
H_onest, holy, humble, holding fast to the Word of God.
R_ighteous, reborn, regenerated, renewed and restored.
I_nstructed in righteousness, immortality assured.
S_anctified, sincere, submissive, self-controlled, secure, saved by grace through
faith.
T_ruthful, thankful, thoughtful, trusting God's Will to be done in His name.
I_mperfect but daily seeking for perfection, improving inwardly by the Spirit.
A_nointed, appointed, an holy vessel of praise and thanksgiving.
N_urturing, noble, new life with and in Christ-
Forever...
S_tanding, stedfast, immoveable, always abounding in the Word and Work of the
God of all Creation and Christ Jesus our Lord.
I saw you.
It wasn’t like the first time I saw you
or maybe, it was?
Nothing much happened (the earth didn’t move).
You appeared no more or less,
than the lump of clay you are;
before you turned on the charm;
or I did?
Before you became the irresistible object,
and I the immoveable force,
before the dance began.
I saw you.
It wasn’t like the last time I saw you
Or maybe, it was?
Nothing much happened,
The mountainous bulk of you had been climbed,
and one too many times.
The charm was spent
you were now the immoveable force
and I no longer the irresistible object.
The hats had changed.
The clowns’ faces were rearranged.
Being no longer immoveable,
having made way,
given to you my all;
no longer was I the Holy Grail,
worthy of your desire;
Nor were you, my Everest,
worthy of drinking from my cup.
I saw you.
It was the last time I saw you
Or maybe, it wasn’t?