Best Independently Poems
I value the ability to live independently
Most sacred to me
is the freedom and my health
- every breath of dawn, is like a diamond
I open the window ... just for a little while
- no children are out playing
the sun is shining and the lilies are blooming
Spring sings its first greeting
Nothing is so beautiful
as the first coltsfoot
Our world today ... lockdown and isolation
Freedom has got a bad friend
and its name is: FEAR
Fear of getting sick ...
Infection and illness can hit quite randomly
A good saying goes:
// it's hard to define an elephant,
but, you recognize it when you see it //
This is a time and a reminder about
we are all equally vulnerable
... and mortal
// Dear Father in Heaven,
protect us in battle and sickness
Give us hope when it seems hopeless //
- Don't fear
... but cheer
Spring is my happy time
... it tingles in the stomach
- // (not in the throat)
I want my freedom back
27.03.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
What Matters Most To You
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
2 place in the contest
Spring is the time for ‘lek’
Capercaillie in beautiful dance
a spectacular mating game
A glowing ballet
that radiates independently
They want to pass on their genes
in breathtaking rhythm
// clatter, clatter, click, click,
pop, pop // - in the woods
The mistress
- the noblest freedom in nature
Allow the birds to enjoy the game
and mate in peace
They have lived in our pine forests
since the last ice age
Walk quietly and gently on moss green pillows
So close, vulnerable and gorgeous
When the midnight hour dims
a crack of moonlight ...
and a soul of satisfaction
// clatter, clatter, click, click,
pop, pop // - in the woods
(‘lek’ is an old Norse word that means ‘play’)
10/02/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
About head high, two bluebirds built a nest
Outside my window, in a young oak tree
They built their house complete with nursery
Last spring she chirped a lover's sweet request
It wasn't long before their home was blessed
Three little ones that chirped incessantly
They raised them to live independently
Last week they left no forwarding address
But I have hope they will return in spring
Rebuild even remodel, either way
Each day they said hello and were so kind
How beautiful it was to hear them sing
Perhaps, next year I'll ask if they can stay
Because good neighbors are so hard to find
November 20 2016
Italian Sonnet
Come close, come closer ...
let me bend your ear, my estranged countrymen
It don’t matter to me
if you’re a Democrat or a Republican
Your political persuasion
is of no concern of mine
Me be a global citizen,
parochial politics, I’m not so inclined
National jingoes
don’t make me do patriotic monkey shines
Us free thinkers,
we got an elevated state of mind
Listen here citizen Democrat,
don’t be no left-wing party socialist cheese eating rat
Listen up citizen Republican,
don’t be no right-wing party capitalist mice eating cat
It don’t matter to me
what your politics be
It don’t matter to me
if you’re a Republican or Democrat
Independently speaking,
neither party got any good stats
So vote however you please,
it simply don’t matter to me
I’m a global citizen,
don’t have no national self-interest
What’s good for humanity is what I want best
Are you listening citizen Democrat,
are you hearing me citizen Republican?
If America is one body,
how is it that the left and right hand ain’t shaking?
They both don’t do enough compromise,
they both love to spew party propaganda lies
History just repeating itself,
another divided house destined to die
Fighting against each other
Civil War
Brother pitted against brother
Rich against poor
Democracy now seeking cover,
done voted themselves a dictator lover
But none of that matters to me ...
I ain’t no Democrat or Republican
No, my friends,
I’m a practicing voter vegan
Don’t have no red meat party allegiance,
got no partisan politics infecting me
I’m a global citizen, 100 percent absolutely
So whatever your politics be,
it don’t matter to me ...
I’m above the fray,
I’m free thinker range-free
Dedicated to one I respect, enjoy, fear for and pray for as he faces violence each day in a part of Africa that was once his peaceful, nature adorned idyllic home. I wish him to run, he won't. God Keep Ye, Jannie Breedt
Ocean-born wave rhythms rock their roll
just as motions my own soul does extol
since first we seascaped soul to soul.
From your African, violent, dust bowl
straight to my United States’ role,
joy surfs the tides making us whole.
Your expanse is constant inside my coral mind
as though our ebb and flow were cast entwined.
An ocean sees our coastlines combined.
Though our shared depths are confined,
our seawaters’ yang is surely aligned.
I sail my authentic towards your motion’s drift,
feel its sincere floatage dip down and high-lift.
Never do I rue an anchor of sea-worn shrift
turning shallow the depth of my sailed gift.
Our vibration rides the same sea of mapped calm.
You soothe my torrid zones as a salt-healing balm
might whip storms into the tranquility of a psalm.
Your grace and kindness of steady waves
fill my otherwise deep-sunken sea graves.
Bright life vests secure notes you sincerely toss afloat.
Our waters churn beyond human means of control -
they plunge and sweep as independently designed,
leaving us with merely sand’s feel to finger sift.
Yet my endless depths harbor no sinking qualm
for my intangible drownings, your tangible saves.
I am a better me with each beached, ocean note.
Where Eagles Soar
Flying far above the masses
In azured tinctured skies,
They fly independently.
For that, is where true class
lies!
They want no part of any
motley crew birds.
Just self-determined to fly as
they choose to do.
Never bowing their glorious
heads,
To seek recognition from any
tempters of glory!
With their widespread wings
they soar clearly with full
independence and no doubts.
And were I a bird, you would
find me an eagle.
Heaven forbid I walk on a leash
like a beagle!
June9, 2019
5pm PST
Nelly my mum was 87 on June -7th -11
her Writings at ...
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush/
My sweet little momma still lives in her house. independently.
ELLEN MAY JOHNSON. (Beau Brummell is her great Uncle)
Yes Ellen Brummell was her name, our good sweet Mother dear .
We wouldn`t trade this girl so game, I`ll surely make that clear.
When droving sheep with her we went, back in the early fifties.
She drove the truck wherever sent, and set up camp so swiftly .
She fed the mob and kept us neat, and educated too.
She always was so good and sweet, of mother this is true.
She always gave us of her best, waited on us hand and foot.
With such a mother we were blessed, these words I`ve poorly put.
If ever with her down you set, She`ll fill your plate my friend.
The fastest meal you`ll ever get, If not your arm she`ll bend.
How she ever put up with our mob, watched over us with care.
Only mother could just do the job, of this of course I swear.
So when you see her run about, too busy to sit down.
Just you she waits on have no doubt, or some stranger from the town.
Don JohnsonConstance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name 'Mother'
I remember reading a short story by Hitchcock. Three friends walk and converse as they make their trek home from work. Huddled in mind,
independently fearless, the cold air or hot night baring their souls.
crows on line watching
remembering silhouettes -
chalk line to be drawn
Three, two, one - for one must eventually walk alone. Walking the line, confident, aware of every shadow, lurking, stillness jumps out.
Hesperus midnight
moon scantily clothed in shroud
clicking of high heels
Let go the chain, the arm-in-arm armor. Pallor of countenance as pinking blush of rush hour fades into dusk. You can almost see fingertips reaching out, moving away.
vertiginous spin
heightened intensity fights
thundering heartbeats
One, why her? All alone. Path is familiar and unknown. She spots someone near her residence. She runs like a stallion. Her horseshoes clip clopping on cobblestone. Key shaking, cranking, releasing. Safe.
Safe in a prison, of sorts. Safe, wrapped in her place of warmth.
the rocking chair creeks
only for a little while -
shower curtain shrieks
Each lady found a friendly front door and the backside; that closed out the cold or was it warm air? The third lady, warming her tea, hears the clearing of a throat behind her…
the stories complete
but my imagination
runs away with me
Now, I’ve told this tense tale, as I remember it. Three, two, one,
the ladies parted ways. Two will meet again, but the last one, ripped from the pages of time, lingers.
suspension of peace -
invalid looks through window
placed there by Hitchcock
"God's love fills me with gratitude" - Quote by author
Gracious Lord with love overflowing while devising,
created this universe mesmerizing
Every single element thoughtfully crafted,
an epitome of beauty, perfectly drafted
For safety our body is covered with skin,
All holes covered by hair, dirt can't go in
Our eyes have outer skin, eyebrows, eyelashes,
disinfectant water cleaning endlessly splashes
He manages internal functions of body
He has given us an automated body
Nature too functions independently
Every thing happens resplendently
Those who can't move like plant and trees
He provides for them, they live in ease
He gave utmost protection to every small seed
To ensure happiness blooms, organisms can breed
He created dynamic mesmerizing world to behold
He has given us much more than what we can hold
He has filled our life with multifarious sounds
Every time we hear them our joy compounds
He gave us variety in food and spices
So that our meal delightfully entices
Variety in his creation deserves acclaim
He ensured no two creatures are same
Still he doesn't boast, he has no ego at all
He works silently, we feel we doing it all
His love gently caresses me
I feel his presence wherever I see
God's love remains same
Whether we love or defame
We are sinning, destroying earth
Still his love has no dearth
Ever caressing wind whispers God loves me
Droplets of rain whisper he cares for me
Whenever I think how much God loves me
I am filled with exhilarating glee
18.07.2021
I plead guilty
Of saying,
My grandchild is
The most beautiful
The most wonderful
The most intelligent,
It shows, it is so evident,
Absolutely so loving,
Character and nature so giving,
Makes friends instantly
And acts independently,
And so much fun,
Takes my hand
To help build sandcastles
In the sea sand,
Likes to share,
Tells you if she feels you are wrong,
That is not fair,
And how old is this little wonder,
Who is not even afraid
Of an intense storm
With lightning and thunder,
Two years and 8 months,
Who converses so sensibly,
And comprehensibly,
I am not exaggerating,
Such a wise little mind
Who is also so truly kind,
Who tells me I am not pronouncing
“Absolutely,” Correctly
It is ab-so lut-ely yiayia, she says,
And I beam at you with pride
You are so little, yet mature
Everyday we love you more and more,
And one day when our time is up,
I hope no time too soon,
When you look up and
See a full bright moon,
And lots of glittering stars,
It’s Yiayia and pappou ,
Sending you hugs
And love galore.
YIAYIA AND PAPPOU ARE THE GREEK WORDS FOR – GRANNY AND GRANDPA
I wear the flame of your name,
traced in jaguar herbs
between pearl blades of angels,
pulling in the heat of your wildfire...
My soul branded with a burning love feather
molten madness stroking the light rebellious,
your identity a touch of kissing curves,
I am mantled with a cloak of star rain...
Addicted, engrossed,
as my silhouette aches to be drenched
in rivers of your rushing rhymes,
breathing nothing but the dream
of being chained
to the footprints of your soul...
Tethered to the stride of my soul
heartbeat warmly pained,
You follow with yielding scream
my attention on your pulsing eyes,
I spread open vellum of poetry achingly inked,
scent of rose melting frost...
I've witnessed them christen my night as lethal,
their prayers painting me as sin,
while I entomb their accusations
in a blood stained envelope,
laid to rest in a casket of poisoned lilies,
for I am no longer their Lilith
crowned with silken serpents,
jeweled in jinxed jasmines
I am the gold rose rays of sunrise
wrapping you in blushing silence...
But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?
Within your bloom there is a violet innocence,
weaponized once for ritual license
a jewelry box of black magic temptations,
Tiara of bloodstones broken for love repentance,
a Goddess become Woman trueth,
the coffin become catalyst to living tears,
elegant gown now simple linen of lilac hope,
reputation now means nothing
before heart's divinations,
You are no harpy, You are my revelation,
You are love beautiful, reason for my passion crystal...
This composition was written
by J.A.B. and Ink Empress
as a collaboration expressing
love as a transformative experience.
Ink Empress wrote verses 1, 3, & 5,
and also the bridge line,
"But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?"
I composed veres 2, 4, & 6...
During the writing process I decided to rhyme my end line words in reversed order
to her end line words...
So although our verses independently are Free Verse, I ryhmed the end line words in reverse order verse for verse, in doing so inventing
a new rhyme meter especially in contex of collaborative poetry.
Poem as depicted here.
___________________________________________________________
CIRCUMLOCUTION was inspired by the poem, Him & Her Intersection, by Brian Bilston. In the 2015 Great British Write Off, he won the poetry prize for this poem disguised in a Venn diagram. My interpretation of the intersection poem scans differently to his as the intersected part is to be read in a loop, as suggested by the title.
The Venn diagram poem is an interesting intersecting visual poem written inside a two-circle Venn diagram.
It could be written on any subject where a contrasting viewpoint is key to a successful intersection poem. The idea is for the two outer sections (the opposing views) to be read independently taking the intersection into account, for example, xxxxxxxx X / X xxxxxx (the lines don’t have to be of an equal length.) This intersected piece ‘X’ should flow in a logical statement from top to bottom—I aimed for imagistic prose.
I wish I weren't me!
---------------------------
I sometimes wish that I weren't me!
I were who I've always wanted to be!
A loving angel of the seventh heaven!
Chosen from seraphs of all the seven!
For my devotion to all the living souls!
In their suffering, who softly consoles!
Reaches instantly to whoever is in pain!
To give tender loving care most humane!
To look after dotingly for an ailing child!
To treat gently even the ones gone wild!
Even if I didn't have the powers to cure!
I could make sickness easier to endure!
Wherever I went, I took moments of joy!
With a soothing caress, or a magical toy!
My aura made grieving souls get a smile!
To keep it forever, not just to last a while!
I could enable infirm to independently live!
Instead of taking help, become able to give!
Not just I could heal bodies, also the minds!
Turn the impaired into a genius of a rare find!
In that quest I've worn a healer's white coat!
To do my little part though it's nothing of note!
I know I can never be who I've wanted to be!
But I can keep trying to become a better me!
-------------------------
Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)
Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo on LinkedIn pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140809133636-167523528-i-know-i-can-never-be-who-i-ve-wanted-to-be-but-i-can-keep-trying-to-become-a-better-me and my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1
All my posts are shared through my Facebook community page "Hear those pics Say what clicks" https://www.facebook.com/PicsAndPoets You are most welcome to visit this page as all my posts are public and everyone may tag, share, comment on and like them.
The same posts are also shared publicly and are accessible to everyone through my Google+ page https://plus.google.com/+AsgharNazeer/posts
I am corruption
A citizen of all Nations
The UN calls me complex social, cultural and economic phenomenon
Nevertheless, I do not mind
Countries of the world detest me publicly
However, they romance me secretly
So I relocated to Africa
To become a citizen of many African countries
Where I thrive with impunity
I am embezzlement of public fund
I am the looting of public treasury
I am economic crimes
I am bribery and receipt of illegal proceeds
Some call me theft and privatization of public resources
While others shamelessly refer to me as extortion, clientelism and patronage
However, I do not care about that
I manifest myself boldly as illegal appropriation or forgery and falsification
I am also blessed with quadruplets: abuse of state funds, waste, nepotism and favoritism
To maintain my citizenship I employ abuse of power(intimidation) and election falsification
I steal the continent’s wealth and fritter it to foreign countries
I live in slums of Africa
I live in cities of Africa
I am as ubiquitous as I am powerful
I have caused so much pain to Africa
I am the most powerful agent of African impoverishment
As you fight against me
I fight back with venom
Most African leaders love me so much
They cannot do without me
All religions worship me
The military is powerless before me
I hold the Executive to ransom
The Judiciary is my familiar abode
I am the permanent occupant of the Legislature
In me, there is no separation of power
I corrupt independently and collectively
I am a citizen in whom most African leaders are well pleased
As you can see I am well entrenched in my adopted continent
To eliminate me requires efforts
To diminish me is herculean
To tolerate me is dangerous
However I must die so that Africa can live!
We act according to our fears.
Afraid of failure, terrified of victory finding refuge within the tears.
We sacrifice the chances of success for the certainty of death.
We weigh the risk before deciding, we dismiss the chance when it’s in our odds.
The world is full of danger, failure stories - we just want security.
Security, even as an illusion is better than doubt and terror.
We perpetuate our child's position on the social ladder for fear of losing another step.
We want like everyone else no less, we will not risk for more.
We are safe as sheep in a herd. Sharing our faith.
Independent thinking is peeled away step by step, with no room for creative thinking in the herd.
We Reduce the field of view so that we won’t see the outside world.
We are the sheep’s
.
We explore all the possibilities and decide as per interest
We are not afraid of failure. He who does not lose will not know how to win.
We're just learning from mistakes.
We know how to recover from a fall and return a punch for every slap.
To be honest we also feed on sheep.
We think independently and are not subject to any whim or regulation.
We choose the path of our lives and do not live the path set for us.
We love ourselves and sometimes too much.
We are privileged. Not by faith, by choice.
we are kings and the sheep are subjects.
Is there anything better than a subject who thinks he is a master?
We strive to live the dream.
We are the wolves.
Fear is not a stranger; we have walked many pats side by side.
We know the sense of security in being a part of the crowd.
We too have painted poverty in the colors of modesty, sacrifice, and family ...
We painted our failures with the shade of self-pity.
We lied to ourselves and believed. We believed cause were afraid.
We were afraid because we knew that we were not blind.
We chose to be blind.
As we opened our eyes we saw.
Once we saw it, we understood. When understood it's easy to improve.
We are the wolves in the skin of a sheep, and we are not tampered with.
For all the sheep who want to be wolves and do not know how to open their eyes.