Best Imply Poems
A Turnip and a Cabbage
are walking down the street.
This may seem a might peculiar
as they hadn't any feet.
Before you judge and criticize,
I beg your minds to wander.
To take a moment just to see
on what the herbage ponders.
The Cabbage says, 'The sun is out,
it makes a lovely day.
It is nice to see the other Plants
we meet along the way.'
The Turnip nods approvingly,
the Cabbage is his chum.
For every day they walk this way...
they both begin to hum.
There are no words, no songs they know,
they no not how to sing.
But they cannot miss what they do not know
so no sadness does it bring.
They leave the street and find a trail
leading to a brook.
Where they find a tree, a friend of theirs...
looking at a book.
'What do you have?' The Turnip says
with interest in his voice.
'Something bad, you should not see...
I leave it to your choice.'
Tree hands the book, which Turnip takes
while Cabbage jumps to see.
They flip the pages, both in awe,
they gasp and ask the tree.
'Where did you get this?' Such a story,
we do not believe our eyes.
What Plant would write of such a state?
It surely must be lies.'
The tree responds, 'These sad affairs
happened long ago.
By a species less developed
with little wisdom to bestow.
They were unkind... some cruel and dark,
always out for more.
They hated all... were prone to cheat,
they invented a thing called War.
They fought tooth and nail for shiny objects,
over which they fussed.
Destroyed themselves... their culture gone,
a victim to their lust.'
The Cabbage and the Turnip
let out a cushioned sigh.
But Turnip strains, 'I am still confused.
What does the book imply?'
Tree thinks a bit, 'It was Nature's way
to cleanse our treasured Earth.
To fight disease and cure infection...
saving only things of worth.'
So to those of you who doubt this tale,
forgive my little rant.
But take from this most people lack...
the brains God gave a Plant.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
A Shattered Peace
(as a privileged white man searches his soul)
A shot rang out that gave a fright
and shattered peace in dark of night.
For just a while I gave a pause
then ventured out to seek the cause.
I saw a shadow in the dark
as I approached the city park;
the cop stood tall and at his feet
a young black man lay in the street.
"He tried to run," the sheriff said;
reported crimes from which he fled.
(‘twas later found upon research,
the man was heading home from church.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I noted it to be dark red,
the pool of blood beneath his head;
a shocking moment to define,
it’s color was the same as mine.
Are we that different, he and I,
this inbred guilt which you imply?
For which he died, his only sin
‘twas darkened pigment of his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How many times must this repeat
these black men dying in the street?
How many times must this repeat
these senseless shootings indiscrete?
How many times must this repeat
until our bias we defeat?
‘tis in our soul the answers lie,
and in the hearts of you and I.
June 21, 2020
You are an enigma,
only found hidden under leaves.
A colour in the rainbow still unseen.
Fate has formed your mind into a revolving door,
without pressing the buttons,
it remains like dead seeds,
so I became your gardener to help you blossom -
perceiving you will flourish into the rarest rose.
Only you can soothe me from your thorns.
You are a sleeping volcano, sometimes senseless,
irritated by every polish to regain consciousness.
When embers ignite within your enraged eyes,
fragile flames spiral into bitter bonfires -
visible from scorching scars on my soul.
I always wonder
is this the last time I adorn my armour,
as I follow you into your internal inferno,
hoping your fulvous frenzies
are temporary like the last star.
You are a master in your art,
but I'm an alchemist with your secret ingredients,
so I tug your strings in reverse,
but never leave you dangling in a
disorderly drunkard manner,
because you are a unique, untouched gem.
Words are vortex to your heart,
so I summon silence to keep you on the edge,
but before you fall, I'm there to catch you.
You insist it's ebony, when it's ivory,
so I tell you to go left, knowing you will go right
and when you say you cannot write,
I Whisper secrets to the wind,
aware they'll carry to you like a typhoon.
As you vent, your metaphors manifest the
honesty behind the poison in your veins.
Suppressed emotions become poetry.
When you imply, I do not feel
and you are hellbent to hurt,
your wrath leaves me hanging like a punch bag,
yet I never aim back, knowing calmness heals.
I can tell you it's the final spring,
or I've laid down my shield and sword,
but you are unable to halt the slaughter,
until the sour aftertaste becomes pleasant,
so I place sugar cubes, slowly on your tongue.
I was born to take the stones out of your heart.
In this cognitive warfare of intellect and logic,
where you push and I pull,
there is only one winner, no sinner,
as in your quest to prove me wrong,
you succeed and that my love is
reverse psychology.
I see Him in the plants and trees
With the flowers caressed by bees
I see Him in the ocean’s breeze
He is breathing life into all of these
I see Him in the birds who sing
In the faith He will always bring
I see Him in the joy of a Spring
He shines a light to which I cling
I see Him in the twinkle of a eye
In the azure sea of the dawn sky
I see Him in wonders He does imply
He is laughter whispered in a sigh
I see Him in the gladness of the sun
Within a light that will never be outdone
I see Him in the beauty which will stun
He is the miracle of serenity that is spun
I see Him in the moonlight and stardust
In the brilliance of righteousness I trust
I see Him in the feelings that will adjust
He is there in my heart, an absolute must
I see Him in the kindness He inspires
In the radiant love that He fires
I see Him in the soul who He sires
He is the only One my hope requires
I see Him in the pen of a writer
Within the words that are brighter
I see Him in the glory of a fighter
He is the prayer that feels lighter
I see Him in the silence of a dream
In the clear, cool liquid of a stream
I see Him in the reflection all agleam
He is the music to my song and theme
I see Him in the wonders all around
In the hearts and souls that do astound
I see Him in the city and the small town
He is the Father, Son and Spirit renowned
I see Him… in a smile, a sigh, a song
I see Him… in the light, the love, all lifelong
For the One who leads me out of the wrong
Back toward the faith, hope and love so strong
~ink blot~
a scribble
would imply
my pen could move
***
Though I ain't a cordon bleu chef as the title might imply,
I can still whip up gourmet fare in the blink of an eye!
And to an oven or a fryin' pan I need not be a slave,
As long I can open cans and boxes and use my microwave!
No need for me to spend hours cookin' on languid afternoons,
Makin' a mess with spatulas, blenders and tablespoons.
I can simply open a box and fix Kraft's macaroni and cheese,
Or thaw Marie Callender's lasagna from a carton in a breeze!
Ah, the variety of Campbell's soups I can extract from a tin,
All prepared to perfection, not too thick and not too thin.
Doesn't take me long to create a scrumptious mulligan stew -
Just open a can of Dinty Moore and heat it up is all I do!
I never bother makin' vanilla waffles anymore from scratch,
When I can thaw Eggo things from a box and enjoy a tasty batch!
Thanks to my handy microwave I can fix Sara Lee frozen pies -
I didn't bake 'em but my gullible guests think otherwise!
My side kick Chef Boy-r-Dee and I make a fine spaghetti,
And also unrivaled ravioli, tortelline and capelleti!
I'm always happy to share with others the secret of my success,
And the proper presentation of fine cuisine with panache and finesse!
Entry for Lewis Raynes' "I Love Food" Contest)
Creamsicle sky melts in July
and drips down on our souls renewed.
From midsummer’s unstifled sigh,
creamsicle sky melts in July.
Our tent keeps secrets, we imply.
A fire sparks a sultry mood.
Creamsicle sky melts in July
and drips down on our souls renewed!
For Andrea's One Lovely Summer Triolet Contest
Visual #7, 5/28/15
An old Great Dane may be timid and shy
While a Chihuahua’s bite can make you cry
Friends come in all sizes
And there are surprises
When size does not ability imply
*Inspired by Mark Twain's quote: “It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.”
Written May 3, 2015 for John Freeman’s “Dumb and Dumber” contest
Pounding hearts pumping out rivers of love, in the beginning, those
Anointing streams of sweet passion which nourished our souls
Soon began to shrink, then were slowly abandoned. They
Simply seemed to disappear. Those long forgotten
Invigorating waters that washed away our troubles.
Onward now we go, lost and bewildered,
Not knowing how to reclaim what we lost along the way.
TLH © 07-30-2012
This dance feels resurrected
Right down to the cherry stains on your sleeve
And the tapestries that look like iron will
But are really shadows cleverly woven to imply it.
I can not see here
The lights are too low
But sometimes things are better seen
When lit by the lanterns of the mind instead.
They look brighter
Redder
Closer to real
Than real could ever be.
We were here once before
A thousand years ago give or take a century.
I spoke with a carnelian tongue
You tasted like pomegranate seeds.
Going back there again
Carrying that same tune
Becoming crimson
Becoming other
Breathe
I lost my breath
You gave me yours
You held me
You said
Breathe
What did he mean
when he said
turn the other cheek?
Does it mean
violence isn't the answer
and peace is always the way?
Is it to deny the natural
carnal response?
To challenge the older laws
that have long been ensconced?
Maybe it's a come on
to the ungodly
"Give me what you got
I have no need to be afraid."
Maybe he meant
our bones are fragile
but our hope is not?
It shall never rust nor decay.
Surely a punch in the face
is no threat to one's life.
If a man put a gun to your wife
would you just let her die??
(surely life is precious
but God have mercy
should it come to this)
Should we cast down our weapons,
trade them for pruning hooks?
Is that what Jesus meant?
Or perhaps, maybe,
it begs you to take a deeper look.
and gaze at the wisdom God has sent.
Does it not surely mean that hatred
can't be snuffed out
by more hatred?
There are many trials we go through
but one thing we must know
is that love should always be sacred.
When he stated
Ye are the Light of the World
does that not imply
that the world itself is DARKNESS?
It's a gloomy forbidding place
with many pricks and thorns:
why add to the harshness?
For now it seems
we see through a glass darkly.
Having trouble deciphering
the passages and what they meant.
What about Romans 13
where it says, Execute vengeance
against those who do evil?
To whom is it referring
and to what extent?
Our limited understanding
leaves us grounded.
NOTE: This was written in response (and inspiration) to Liam McDaid's poem titled Thou Shalt Not Kill. It's a very fascinating topic, and one where I don't quite have answers...
Dark thoughts emerging from a lifeless spirit,
a wandering ship sinking into the remotest depths;
denying itself reality and its sense of comfort...
and was ever there a lighthouse to disperse its darkness?
A captain stirring his erring ship,amid furious waves,
for an imminent and fierce war,
not noticing the making of its destiny...
fighting unnecessary battles of ambiguity,
hoping that luck would bring it safely ashore;
even a small island was hidden from his gaze!
An unwise listener would not take advice from anybody,
he didn't reject it embracing his own vulnerability;
a good decision that didn't imply a cost...
would he ever been discouraged or lost?
For uncountable years, this eager sea-man,
resisted and spoiled many pleasures for victory...
freezing time to avoid another tragedy
with a perception so sharp to defy anyone's will!
And did he deserve the harshest judgment
from others, who were pleased with their fate?
Loneliness was chosen by him
for unequivocal reasons and he craved it
like the bitterest, strongest wine
to make him strong and invincible...
nothing swayed him from his pride
to obtain that impossible goal!
Blind Faith
So, even the expression, blind faith, makes my blood boil.
I've had one too many conversations with "intellectuals" who disdainfully look down on us believers for believing in a Creator. They imply by the expression blind faith, that we do not have the mental capacity to think or to reason, that we blindly, or naively, are lead to believe in God without any proof.
They say that believing in an invisible person, or force is foolishness, a mere childlike fantasy nothing more. One commentator said "I used to have an imaginary friend, when I was a child, but I grew up, and no longer believe in fairy tales, and imaginary sky friends, like God".
Firstly, I would say that it is not foolishness, to believe in invisible forces. Science has proven the existence of radio waves, gravity, magnetic attraction, electricity, wi-fi, and on and on goes the list. So it is not the intellectually weak-minded who believe in invisible forces, it is all rational people.
To be frank, if there is no Originator of life, no Initial Causer, Creator, or Intelligent Designer, then what is left? What initiated life? Chance you say! Ok, let's look at random chance as the initiator of life. Ask any scientist what are the mathematical probabilities, that life, even in it's most rudimentary form came about by chance, they will tell you the odds are trillions to one, over billions of years!
So let me get this straight, believing in a great Causer, when we see the effect (us, life as we know it) is unreasonable, but according to them, it is more reasonable to conclude, that life came from nothing at all, and the odds are trillions to one against it, and that it is a fact. Interestingly, mathematics professors will tell you that 10 billion to one odds, is the limit, beyond that it is not only improbable, but rather, mathematically impossible to happen.
So, to prove God exists, all we need to do, is do the math! It is mathematically impossible that life came by random chance. For those that believe it to be true...sounds a little like...hmmm...... blind faith!
John Derek Hamilton
May 16,2017
From glory to dust-2
F ragile humans flailing away at cataclysmic events, trying to
R ule the world without a clue, not knowing the way
O ut... Impressive they try to be, imposing their
M ediocrity in synchronicity with deceptive ideologies
G lamourously they present themselves as role models
L eaders of society, in the arts, and business moguls
O f the sports world, they excel high above the
R est of the competition, they are winners, never
Y ielding to doubt or fear, ever overconfident
T oo many times they reach the summit, the peak of power
O nly to find themselves crashing down into the mire of disgrace
D isillusionment will rule the hopeful mind and heart of the innocent
U ntil the day when they finally comprehend that humans on their own
S imply cannot control or manage the chaos that confronts this world
T ogether the impious and vainglorious rulers will return to the dust.
John Derek Hamilton
March 22,2017
There are no shape walls
to bridle one's emotions
creativity is properly ventilated
unbound by meter or syllable count
embracing nakedness
yanked naked in its virginity
The binding belt of chastity
given over to lyrical lovers
Sleeping quietly in the meadows
a pristine area free of squatters
fighting for their rights
with sonnet-crafted homes
and hamlets defined by literature.
Straying away from the norm
acolytes watch as castles are built,
that worships orderly expression
poetic masterpieces,
safeguarded and preserved at all times
metaphors align into a specific subset
pictures look like works of art,
there is a distinct realm
for those unfit to fly in their confines.
Outside of the norm
is a vast nebulous
growing quill flowers from seeds sown
the power of smell to evoke memories,
which one's brain may elect to ignore
when settling at a location of a specific form
is what one's words must imply.
On this trip, there are no rules,
only that burning desire inside
strive to harass the page,
fire getting into the core
from telling someone a mystery,
till the key bares the chest
where other ideas demand rebirth.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 28, 2022
Free Verse - Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
5th Place Contest Winner
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand