Best In The Offing Poems
"I read the news today, oh boy" - Beatles
apocalyptic revelations spinning 'round inside my head/have me tossing keep me turning wide awake upon my bed/so much hating too much lying chaos just outside my door/brainwashed zombies from their pulpits spewing vitriol and more/horsemen riding children dying famine warfare take their toll/politicians see their ratings drop in value with each poll/earth is battered lives are shattered bombs and land mines maim or kill/ Satan laughing spreads his wings as mankind wallows in his swill/locusts gather then they scatter out to spread the word of doom/news crawls flash across the telly in the safety of my room/insurrection tribulation agitating anxious minds/weary travelers seeking refuge thus fulfill prophetic signs/lift your heads up never give up soon will come the final fight/Armageddon's day of judgment soon will set all matters right
"Run to the hills, run for your lives" - Iron Maiden
broken trams cause traffic jams that clog the streets and alleyways/people running seeking shelter for it's now the end of days/can you hide us will you save us from the wrath of Christ the king/every day yes everywhere we hear his judgment message ring/ law defying God offending wicked men now merit death/liars rapists pedophiles blaspheme with their dying breath/peace they cry out strife they mete out hypocrites will face their end/frogs keep croaking propaganda via media it wends/retribution’s in all creatures causing some to turn on man/seven-headed beastlike monster marches to the Devil’s plan/Babylon with all her daughters sing a song of treachery/to their gods they give allegiance - spiritistic witchery/when the end comes have we earned some merit with the One who reigns/future blessings in the offing paradise will end all pain
“Amen. Come Lord Jesus” – Bible
Love, I get love is more than a game the young play,
It is life one commits, not caged bird ‘shopped’ to mine
In the hope lives are saved that don’t sleep in harm’s way!
How can chemistry alter what man can’t refine?
Love is more than a look or a flirt in a mall
And is much more than cash you can steal, spend, or earn.
More accrued by a talent that’s honed by each fall,
Than by lumens discharged when we spark, or hearts burn!
Is it love that we’ve found when acquaintances flatter?
Does sharing a hobby like tennis or eating suggest
Love might be in the offing? Is love more a matter
Of saying, “Love look! I am here (with no test or retest)!
You are inside my borders, beyond reservation,
All love’s where you find it! Can ‘Grace’ be the child of ‘Intent?’
It’s like tropical moisture, trees rain the foundation
For life that surrounds, or can ‘Grace’ be constrained by consent?
Is it people who serve me or those I best serve
Who shine light on God’s leading when ‘push comes to shove?’
Do those get more who give love away or conserve?
Is the servant or fool more ‘admirer’ of Love?
Love, I know what I want, and I want it today!
What I prize most of all? To be Grace to your dreams,
To Grace others, engaged by time’s Author’s staged play
Where poor actors have roles their mute action redeems!
Brian Johnston
4th of September in 2019
For more details, please see my Blog dated 7th April 11
'In India, a new Revolution is in the offing'
A New Hope shown by Anna Hazare in India
A new torch is there in your hands, dear Anna Hazare*,
A torch by which you are waking up the souls
Of millions and millions of our sleeping citizens.
To wake up and to remove the curses created by many of our
Corrupt bureaucrats and down to earth polluted politicians,
Such people inspire only directly or indirectly in my country
Violence, crime, corruption, and greedy coalitions.
No words are sufficient to thank you, O soldier of Gandhi,
As by non-violence, only Gandhi wanted to change the society.
God has given you an opportunity to do something,
O bold soldier
Several hundred thousands are standing with you and
Millions would join your campaign for removing the curse of corruption,
Effecting our country and many countries of the world,
All these are the result of ever-increasing greed and misdeeds of many such bureaucrats and politicians,
Such people are ruining many countries of the world by their
Ever increasing lustful temptations for money and greed for power and pelf.
In an era when the world is facing its new Renaissance of knowledge and awakening,
We salute your guts and efforts to bring a wind of change in my country.
Just keep walking with the torch of courage and hopes you have lighted,
As millions and millions more are waiting to join your efforts or
Waiting to start a campaign like this in every country,
As all the nations of the world are facing the tortures created by unworthy bureaucrats
and politicians.
Keep the torch high to light up the nation with a new light,
Our dear soldier Anna Hazare.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 08th April 2011
Anna Hazare* . Anna Hazare is a 73 years old man and one of India's
well-acclaimed social activists. A former soldier in the Indian army,
Anna is well known and respected for upgrading the ecology and
economy of the village of Ralegan Siddhi which is located in the
drought prone Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra state
As I try to remember my only love
When the sunset of life is not far now
Wild, bright, the colors blended in row
Forming a magical hue, fading now.
Darkness closing, now time to go home
Resting in the darkened room quite warm
Lying in the bed with eyes closed to form
Images of love residing in mind’s dorm.
All in the waning light she stood there
A perfect beauty with smile sweet and fair
With her in sight, the life was much fairer
But the time came to bid her farewell forever.
As my summer eve was to wed another man
Many a sunset came and faded in life’s span
After many years an evening came again
In a glance saw her once, there with her man.
That was the last but one sunset of life
The last being in the offing nearly rife.
+++
September 24, 2014
Form: Free verse
First Place win
Comfort, luxury and accumulated wealth is nothing
Promise of beauty to the garden is spring in the offing
Separated from soul a body is of no avail
Without love life is not worth living
Luke lived in a place prone to an earthquake.
One in the offing made him shiver and shake.
He decided to act with full speed
Throwing caution to the wind indeed.
And moved to south Florida for safety’s sake.
The old goose is getting plump
Must be some special occasion in the offing
Oh I remember, that jolly old man
Will soon be riding into town on his sleigh
Pulled by eight happy boisterous reindeer
He'll be ringing his bell and singing
Those happy Christmas songs we all know so well
That have been with us for a lifetime
“Frosty The Snowman” and
“Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!”
Ahhh... those joyous memories of when we were kids
Waking up early on Christmas morn
But having to wait until Mom and Dad
Gave us the okay to tear downstairs
Our hearts overflowing with excitement
As we first set sight on the gayly wrapped presents
Piled high under and around the tree
What joy, what excitement
Breakfast??? Who could eat breakfast?
We were allowed to open one present each
But then we had to sit at the table for a good hearty meal
How cruel was that, a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast
We gulped it down and waited for the signal
That we could leave the table
And take our seats as our dear old Dad
Read the tags on each present out loud
When he called out our name, our hearts raced
We quickly ripped of the colourful paper
That Santa's workers had so carefully placed
And screamed out with delight, “I GOT IT!”
It was just what we had asked for
Santa must have had secret agents snooping around
What a time it was and what a time it is remembering!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
A journey landing in December
Road to the Moon of wonder
Trip of four to remember
East of Eden fonder
Milestone is in the offing
Instilled dream becomes a happening
Strobe lights showing and playing
Second-scheduled mission, but first crewed...
Standing in the dark
Kept in the lost ark
Longing for a spark
Hidden like a lark...
Underneath my ark
Nimbling is a shark
Waiting for me to fall off
Craving to bite me off...
Not too far I see an ark
There you stand as I stark
As my ark closes in
You decided to jump in...
You asked my name
I asked yours too
You saved my name
I was pleased to know you...
For twelve days and nights
you stayed in my ark
Thirteenth day you bade with delights
"goodbye" to steer your ark
"When will I see you again," I asked
"Our paths will cross again," you gasped
"...you are the Prince of my heart!"
Somewhere out there, you'll never know...
a new life is in the offing.
(Prosebite)
"The Children's Hour," Franklin D. called it,
putting his stamp on that ceremony, and, so,
we come together, bird, and beast: a yappy
little Bichon Frise in the parking lot, who believes
he's a Rotweiler. And, then there's the poet,
that strange species you are advised to avoid
lest what's worse, get written up in verse.
It's five p.m., and the great-winged birds (read
Turkey Buzzards) are circling over the lake
as if they know it's time for drowning sins.
I've been absolved of mine, the priest was kind,
still, residual remorse remains for those washed-
out black buzzard-stains, whose namesakes
leave no signs of circling, no trace in the sky,
unlike the plane shot like a ball from a cannon
that is climbing straight up over the snowy
rope beneath it. Then, out of the blue,
another -- the two aerial acrobats
forming a giant X like the cross that
St. Andrew hung on, but it's an epiphany,
not a crucifixion we celebrate as we clink
our glasses,wondering, where go these
hardy climbers, these sky divers? To what
destination, what new creation from their
ropes of light? Where they go, I do not know.
Where, in the offing, trails dissolving,
never the twain shall meet...
I, Thee greet,
There is no ‘you’ or ‘I’
Except that you choose
to call the fat clouds a name
and make them feel like overlords upon the others.
And, there is neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’
when we collect in droplets into rain
and percolate the crevices between rocks and questions.
The free flowing water you rinse your feet in
Collects the geography of the places you’ve been to
That the same water you now wash your hands with, is what
You once called ‘dirty’ and fed to the gutters of nevermore.
There is no ‘you’ or ‘I’, save ‘we’
We, driblets of water
Garnering into puddles,
Some, redeemed in pots of human bellies.
And, there is neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’
Little dribs charged with pain, break out
As saline rain, bouncing off troubled eyes,
A cesspool of wails in the offing.
And some others, not ‘you’, not ‘I’
Distraught to meet this uncertain world
Are lagged in rocks, trapped prisoners.
We are all waters, variously hued
To boil in teapots and warm the mien of takers
And a few, crystallized into heart-shaped cubes,
Are nursed between the parched tongues of lovers.
Loin waters all! Congealed over time
Sneaked into places like shy rivers
Collecting genetic snapshots of their bearers
Then those ones frozen by fear, iceberg-solid
Make the routes of our ideas unpassable
A few, like calm ponds
Unperturbed by gravity and noise
Undress before the caress of the setting sun
We all are waters,
Not you, not I, but we; streaming
In endless pursuit on the surface
While selfsame dispatch, gather like roots undersea.
**previously published in Sentinel Quarterly Review
We thought we were invincible,
Fearless, there we stood.
But somewhere to the rear
We heard someone sawing wood.
It was over the top for us,
A fight was in the offing.
But not for the carpenters,
They were busy, making coffins.
My grandpa always loved good yard sales
To pick up odds and ends driving for miles
Would return with amazing things in his cart
As he loved old books to instruct and impart.
First he would read a book with words’ usage
Would leave hand written notes on each page
His time came and passed away though sturdy
And I went to a University for further study.
As the family grew, needed more space enough
So decided for the yard sale with all the old stuff.
.
At the end of the day, we got rid of many a things
But the books, old and new, remained in the offing.
While winding up the sale, my eyes fell on an old book
At once the past became a present with a further look.
It was the most sacred scripture The Bhagawad Gita
A colloquy by Lord Krishna, a Bible of Hindu *Amrita
Preaching Karma as you have the power to act only
And no power to influence the result solemnly.
I carry Gita, the book with notes by my grandpa physically
And never forget the teachings therein spiritually.
What looked like a trash to people who had no concern
Luckily it has been a great treasure and of great concern.
* Nectar
+++
August 25, 2014
Form: Rhyme
Second Place Win
Contest: Where frozen embers still burn by Gail Angel
As the light from the Sun is blocked by our planet earth
The light refracts differently, hits the moon with mirth
Like a hot kiss of a lover hits the cheeks of a maiden girl.
Each time Tetrad brings a significant event in the offing.
It reminds me of God Hanuman who had the power to fly
The red moon looked like a red apple to his childish eyes
He flew to the moon, was hit & as a result got chubby face
Each time the Tetrad brings a significant event in the offing.
In the past, the Tetrad has seen the expulsion of the Jews
Birth of Israel, the war between Arabs & Israelis in queue
Now I wonder, what is in the store of The Tetrad of 15th April
Each time the Tetrad brings a significant event in the offing.
+++++++
April 22, 2014
Form : Kyrielle
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place win
Contest: The Red Moon by Dave Wood
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.