Best Importing Poems
My love,
the depth of my fervor is without measure
you are the face that illuminates the darkness
you are the eyes filled with fireflies
their gleamy glows fill love's misty realms
you cause my heart to quiver importing me to dreamland
where we'll accommodate ourselves on some barren shore
as lovers...in a warm passionate embrace
freed from the burdens of the world
perhaps...taste our lips melting in another time and place
where we'll glide to the stars on wishes and wings of golden memories
we'll claim the nights as dreamers
whose pockets are filled with poems...written by our souls
when we learned to cross the bridge to ambrosial sighs
treasured by lovers...
joined by our fate before our shadows fall upon our footprints
and we vanish in the gray twilight of our time on Earth
9/7/18 contest Verses of Metaphors II
Categories:
importing, love,
Form:
Free verse
Take me back to the days
Where the feel of texture and distinguishing colors among Africans didn't matter
Where the only word was black, and not pale or darker
Where the only weapon was loyalty upto royalty actually smarter
Where mother toung superiority excelled the rest was after.
Where rituals and ceremonies were significant in culture
Where oral traditions activities was a preservation of history.
Where inclusivity wasn't done based on tribe, status or age
Where inspiration and education was passed from generation to generation through storytelling.
Where people performed rather than spoke
Where the media was the speaker's tone, volume, and cadence
Take me back to the days
Where people did not blame nationality, ethnicity,
culture, economics and education
Where there was no colonial domination
Where there was no concept of slavery, racism or discrimination.
Where Africa was rich in culture and not the fallacy of primitive and a backward jungle
Where Africa was peaceful and not a race with guns and violent.
Where shouting am black and proud wasn't important because color didn't matter.
Where respect for elders remained an unbroken cornerstone in african culture
Where birth, marriage and burial rites was honored.
Welcome to the days
Where exporting and importing of cultures have become the trend
Where cultures travel through deserts, cross trade routes and through immigration borders
Where exchange disregards our notions of geography and race.
Where virtues such as hospitality, empathy, courtesy and respect is long gone
Where the only thing left are byproducts of culture.
Where multiculturalism has faded and everone hails on becoming one
The richness is not in Africa looking like Europe
What makes the world beautiful is in the diverse contributions
Welcome to the days
Where culture is paraded on an image of drum beating
Where media's notion is dancing naked or eating bush meat
Where in the midst of it all culture lost its definition
Where there is no importance in defending a territory with no boundaries.
Where technology dominated our land and mind
The struggle lies in reclaiming what is rightfully ours
I refuse to fall and cramble because I'm for the idea of sameness.
In the mind is where it all starts
I put no blame on culture, not my affliction.
Categories:
importing, africa,
Form:
Free verse
Two billion people are of the Christmas persuasion,
Two billion people celebrate that most joyous occasion.
If that is true, Santa has to visit 23,148 people every second.
Which really is an awful lot as near as I can reckon.
I know that magic plays a part of Santa’s yearly shtick,
But even taking that into account it really is a trick.
Because that one second includes travel time and chimney scaling
Note reading, cookie eating, and occasionally board game playing.
Even taking into account that there may be a temporal causality loop,
That allows for the suspension of time for him and his happy little group.
Imagine how long it would take in a reindeer driven sleigh,
To visit each town and stop at each house along his way.
And think of the toys that delight and make the children want to shout,
The number of elves that it takes to build them would really freak me out.
The logistics of this endeavor can really start to boggle your mind,
The importing of raw materials alone could set you way behind.
To us, Santa may seem a jolly carefree guy, but he never gets to play hooky,
To run an organization such as that he must be one tough Christmas cookie.
Categories:
importing, funny, holiday, christmas, people,
Form:
Light Verse
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXVII
IF ever I had a country proud of its wall-less porous boundary
And if ever by no mistake of the Supreme High Command of the International Militaro-Business Conspiracy I were appointed the CHIEF TARIFF IMPOSER and Eminence Grise of and on all the self-righteous realms rocambolesque republics and renegade run-of-the-mill rotten rotting rostrum-raving riven ribald rascally rickety refugee-raised democracies
Mark my words I’ll put an end to the raping of my dearly-beloved national integrity by
One, importing all available rutting Queen Bees of the "Killer African Bees" and have them breed with local wasps of high pedigree in the front-line of battle along the Southern Border under every tree where I’d let Red Ant-Hills multiply free
Two, import Myanmar Pythons with a taste for digesting young fresh human flesh, mixed with the local brand of Everglades alligators, down the Mississippi and the Colorado River sprinkled liberally with the Grand Canyon brand of the Rattle-Snake with their tell-tale warning-rattle nipped off, together with the silent army of Black Widows clad in their enticing mantilla webs, as a second-line of defense against the illegal refugee
Next, if they still keep coming I’d roundup all the lazy good-for-nothing thick-maned Bisons of the prairies and have them lined up for a Charge-of-the- Heavy-Brigade stampede by whipping their asses to the sound of the Land of the Free
And if this doesn’t stem the tide of illegal immigrants, drug dealers and tourists with empty pockets, I’d call on the faithful Black and White striped Tribe of Appalachian SKUNKS with my tonitruant bugle, line them up so that their posteriors faced Tierra del Fuego and let them squirt to their hind-hearts’ desire even at the risk of driving the entire population out of the country
Yes Siree, this’s what I’d do as the Eminence Grise and Chief Imposer of Tariffs of My Beloved Contree
And this even if I never ever had no country worth saving for the ennui of a penny
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, June 11, 2019
Categories:
importing, america, drug, humor, immigration,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Nose is an Airport,
Importing,
Exporting,
Air!
Categories:
importing, creation, jobs, nature,
Form:
Imagism
At Customs
Delayed fatigued grumpy and miserable there was I
yet another queue at Oliver Tambo on arrival another
Check scan body search and
mind games in my baggage
Damascus had been an unusual holiday destination
had firmly attached a couple of splinters just a bit of
Shrapnel trauma displacement
on the movie of my soul
Amena breathing the rubble with one foot detached
collateral damage digitalised toes in my camera
Home still smouldering siblings
Riham and Yaman with Allah now
Sayid coughs up the message of
how the planes came planes came
again and again planes came planes
then mother and father had vanished
Assel unable to talk it is difficult to
speak without jaw when brain leaks
upper jaw lower jaw who
cares who minds the statistic
So many images am I importing the
injustice depravation guilt shame
‘Not in my name’ nameless no
frame in the hierarchy of evil
Destruction of a sovereign nation and
the king makers in the global North West
export and import in trauma and transit
memories narrative existential angst
In the queue at the airport OR Tambo
and the tambourine major plays human
beings sacrificed on the altar of a simple
custom of exporting terror and malice
I am importing so much on my return
from Damascus yet choose the line
‘Nothing to declare’ but sorry I cannot do this
there is no time and you don’t want to know
So much pain so much anger on my mind…
but I have too much to declare
Categories:
importing, immigration,
Form:
Free verse
PLASTIC BAG PREJUDICE AND BIGOTRY
What’s that over there?
Don’t bother, it’s just another of those goddamned plastic bags,
Just a plastic bag, a thin polythene bag,
Transparent, cheap, ugly: seen one seen ‘em all -
If I see one comin’ my way, I avoid it.
Always hangin’ in bunches at corners of streets
Where you wouldn’t walk at night,
In the markets after honest folks have all gone home,
Hovering, looking for nothing in particular.
An aimless existence, I tell you,
And I swear you can smell the stink off ‘em fifty feet away.
Can just tell by their color - they’re trouble.
And of course, always linked to cocaine and suchlike.
These guys never amount to anything; just useless,
Blowin’ in the wind - no purpose, no function, no real job:
Kinda like parasites on our country.
Decent folks don’t want ‘em - they don’t really belong.
Better to use good American paper bags, instead
Of importing these guys from sweat shops in Asia.
They’re nothing but trouble - they block up drains;
Can choke a kid; and suffocate a dog;
And we can’t get rid of ‘em. They won’t go away,
Don’t decay for like five zillion years in the soil.
We’d be better off without them -
Our country would be cleaner, less spoiled,
The way it was in the old days.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
NOTE
This is the third in my PLASTIC BAG trilogy. If I write a fourth, it will be a quadrilogy
Categories:
importing, allegory, prejudice,
Form:
Free verse
To use “that” or substitute “which”
Knowing this would make me quite rich
Wrong words are a glitch
That we hate and do switch
Since an editor’s ire is a b*tch
Author's note: I have been writing technical material for the past year, which has taken all my creative energy. I have missed many of the wonderful poets who live here. The good news is that the people I work for are beginning to embrace database publishing.
We have all the paragraphs in one table, and "assemble" the paragraphs into documents using another table by importing record keys. Most people are not interested in this kind of thing, however, it could save us all a lot of money and lead to better technical publications from my employer.
So, the site has some filtering for political correctness. At first, I thought I had left a word off, but alas, no. Is a little humor that bad?
Categories:
importing, humor, language, writing,
Form:
Limerick
Tides in motion beneath my crust
Of water-ice and planet dust,
Heat a hidden salty ocean,
Beneath my crust tides in motion.
My fertile womb so ripe with seeds,
With chemicals that new life needs,
Deep in the darkness, in the gloom,
So ripe with seeds my fertile womb.
We’re not alone, there’s quite a few,
Europa, Triton, Titan too.
We’re moons with a life-friendly zone,
There’s quite a few, we’re not alone.
In dreadful dreams I saw peril,
Aliens that are not sterile,
Importing death, disease, and screams,
I saw peril in dreadful dreams.
From Earth arrives a prying probe,
Now transiting past Saturn’s globe,
To learn if life in my womb thrives,
A prying probe from Earth arrives …
October 16, 2022
Swap Quatrain
For information about amazing Enceladus, see: solarsystem.nasa.gov/moons/saturn-moons/enceladus/in-depth/
or: www.newscientist.com/article/2339020-enceladus-shown-to-have-all-six-of-the-essential-elements-for-life/#:~:text=Saturn's%20moon%20Enceladus%20is%20producing,%2C%20oxygen%2C%20phosphorus%20and%20sulphur.
Categories:
importing, earth, moon, planet,
Form:
Quatrain
* the story of Antogo, was written in 1898, by a less famous author
by the name of Altourgum or Aultourgium, the Novus, said to have
been born to a female stripper in Sweden. He was the son of a
defected confederacy soldier who defected to Sweden during the American
Civil war. He left America, with the money they found in towns they invaded.
He left America with his ***** companion, who bore eight children. He founded the Swedish press company in 1890, later it bought the Swedish vanilla company, and began importing sugar from the America's, were he was considered a moneygrabber, but the British banker Noble Gifstan said the monies Aultourgium had seized was unlisted and could not have been given to those who had earned it, making his companies legitimate and valuable. After buying the Dutch Company Pyzo Pappy, he changed the name to the Dutch Sugar and
Vanilla Comp[any. They made a fortune selling products from the America's, he also began touring the European theater scene, were, he held auditions for musicians , actors and writers, who travel together on trains and ships, to do plays in area's were theater was profitable.
In 1934, the Daughters of Altourgium, found play's and songs from the era of the American Civil war, they had musicians to jazz-up the music and created a new modern sound to sing the sounds to, the used an orchestra and opera singer to sing the songs while the actors performed.
Categories:
importing, adventure, america, appreciation, black
Form:
Ballade
Years of indecision
Ended in an instant
My life in third revision
Starting in the present
Touching everything I've owned
Importing their very essence
Of each and every feeling they borne
History rearing it's very presents
Boxed and placed on an empty truck
My very existence held in transit
That is when the melancholy struck
Walking out this door would be a heroic bit
On the other side of town a lady waited
Patiently for me and for me to decide
That my wild single passions were sated
And to face and enjoy life by her side
I fired up that truck, my heart, soul and mind
Pointed them carefully to the other side of town
Arriving at a place, I knew, true love I would find
Truly amazed at the acceptance I had found.
rlm '09
Categories:
importing, adventure, angst, confusion, devotion,
Form:
VIOLENCE
Eye wrinkle it began
To begat disparage
And yet Tysoning
Shoot again begotten
Hemorrhage is brings
Shelling and uphill
We export oil
Yet importing mortars
Listen to the melancholy
Of motherless mothers
That of fatherless children
And of groaning men
If we must mêlée
Let’s fight for peace
Categories:
importing, satire,
Form:
Sonnet
Starvation, famine, death for all.
The prophecy foretold long time ago.
Bear no fruit of hollow labor.
That makes the urban and rural looks varicose.
Ploughing all day nothing to bring homeward.
There is many a brave heart here dying of want and cold.
Ho! Famine ho! Famine
Ye nest on the citadel.
Famine! Ye have soughs up the land.
Men run from right to left in wretch.
Hunger-stricken wobbles the ground.
At the realm of extreme hunger,
Comes the gluttonous feast.
Poor flood up the land doe in nature very rich.
Bemoan of subject leads to pogrom.
Importing and exterior source for long time feeds.
Myopia chieftain order back to farm.
The boarder in blockade, food in need.
Rooting and seeding will take a long to germinate.
Economy at stake, money value decrease.
Ho! When the hunger pangs have started assail.
A loaf is bought at high prices.
Untouchable is of grain,
Death rampage beeping. Looking pale,
And famished as ever. Roaming around,
in the pagan street.
Dirty ragged children scattered on the dusty road, Scrambling for orange peelings,
Powerless and ignorant is our worst distress.
Lonely and bitter the tears shedding.
Dying of want rife up the nation.
Alms are tied down,
Civil servant beggar are we.
A praying for hunger should part in seclusion.
With food-stricken many of mate shall die amidst plenty.
Ho! Ho! What shall we do?
What we see is of bad premonition.
Cramped by Tartarus that called them self big-cheese.
Categories:
importing, poverty, society,
Form:
Free verse
Stop
Shedding and sowing
Begin bracing for burning
In land of melting
Pots
Was
The crews parallax
Of the trees
Which conceives
The lumberjack to
Saw?
Timber!
Reviled
But adored due to bark,
Chopped down and chastised a log mark
Famine yet fervid mouth of hell,
“Rollways”, or “skidways”, dread logs dwell
Bide for a springtime
Deliver
Evil
And wicked “the drive”, a lake of fire.
Falling hopeless unfettered into the mire
Enduring faith downstream releases the flames grip to
Live
Gateman
Of Hades are knee-deep sifting
Through each frazzled log
Backside to smoldering smog
Preempting the authentic mahogany
from the stamp’s
Name-tag
Reward
Lumber baron’s yield from products in greed
Prompted woodworkers confer
Shaping strong chairs, tables and desks in idolatry
collecting death’s exchange signed by the
Drawer
Ton
In years importing,
crafting and trading,
but flies find rotting
Will it
Not?
Timber!
No
Roots to nurture from all have been chopped and ripped away from, however dark flourishing, thriving and teeming grain holds
On
Stressed,
Muddled and tempted in remaining a chair than readily leafing through
ingredients of decayed stump
Desserts
God’s
Intended is resiliently cultured.
Surviving from the rays of Anguish
Sheltering in soil of adversity
Sustaining out of the hands of affliction from marking
Dogs
Now
Upholstered chairs and varnished furniture love not only your shape and strength but the land and roots you came from only then you will be
One
Categories:
importing, africa, black african american,
Form:
Rhyme
How could failure be my gain?
As much as I tried hard
Sad and tired
I had tried and failed again
I nursed the thought for moments
And importing sporadic loosed comments.
I gave up... was about to give up
Like a broken glass cup.
Then came the spider
Black and furry legs like an armored tank
Sinking deep into space
Soaring higher....
Glued to a tiny transparent web
From its thorax`s bank
Caressing the air at every ebb
Like a policeman on a chase.
Pulled down
It was back spinning
Every time, it was winning
Like the outbreak of dawn
Such determined little thing
And its web, feeble and thin.
Amazed at the awe of its finished
Magnificent web tentacles
Exposed by the flaunted rays of light
Her mighty sank in the middle
Like a queen awed by her beauty.
My oozing shame away went
A pure hope in me trickles
That I felt in me a new might
To fight failure of its meddle
Off my life and join the success party.
This spider could achieve
Farther and wider
For this I believe
I have got the effect of a spider.
Categories:
importing, art,
Form:
Rhyme