Best Joying Poems
Samsara
Endless, pointless
Boring, joying, funny
All beings struggling to escape from this realm
Hell!
Categories:
joying, faith, imagination,
Form:
Cinquain
Today I will let my body
To rest, lazy on the sofa,
Waiting for anything to happen;
Just the breathing calm of this day
As I was reading to myself a good book.
The relaxation does not have to
Have any conversion, letting everything
Out of this world for which I harbor
It to the end.
Whatever it should be I'm not
Worried from anything else.
Let it to pass as the minutes
To hours, as days and weeks,
Joying myself to the maximum
Of God's will.
Categories:
joying, peace, space,
Form:
Alliteration
Tears unshed before, fall now
The distance ahead, shrunk to an end
Memories are spared for us to keep
Time continues, even at our standstill
Years spent, succumb to a day.
Our last paper, joying our spirits
Together we wrote; each his own
The moment a speciality, faded into seriousness
A room filled with relief, not ready to relieve
The future is bound, the past is profound.
Walking away from the building, once detested
A struggled step, not a leap
No matter our differences, our commonness are intertwined
The regrets we have, are that of knowing
The base we had, cherished more considering the unknown.
Friends that motivated our wake, promise to stay
Lightly are their words taken, the truth we have seen
Gratitude owed, to all those who held us up
Chapters written, a glory unmatched
As our grasps meet once more, finality taints the romance.
Life begins again, with responsibilities anew
The crossroads met, our respective pursuits acknowledged
A farewell granting us solace, to a well-traveled journey
Love found, lost to a depart
Our childhood glides away; independence, comes to stay.
Categories:
joying, absence, age, farewell, feelings,
Form:
A beautiful box in the golden morning when you are watering plants
At midday a workshop where you are providing me with the ladder
In the evening a walled closet to transform the personality and gravity
At night you first gather the stars, pour them on my body, which then
Enters my system defeating the platelets
Finally they get me to pieces that go above and twinkle and beckon me
Perhaps someday I will have some dream
All enclosed by the same four walls, day in and day out, -- with no sprout.
Or, --an entwining infatuation where you are led into barriers, failures,
and frustration on the absolute four walls enclosed and encumbered
By more fight, hospital, tears, stench, begging, than smile and pleasure
But nevertheless are fated to come back to the same ruthless four walls
Regardless of they will hold you or unhold, for the simple reason that
the four walls are an enchanted garden to you. Nay, the very life is so.
Whether stand or fall, you are always and always back to the four walls.
Perhaps the truth strangest of all.
At the moment, here, the four walls are the well known animal farm.
We are being packed into asking us not to unfold our wings up or down
For the sky and ocean which are doors to precarious disintegration
“Clip them for the walls. Stand or fall, stay at the walls”. The dictum.
Religion, Nationalism, Caste, Class, Faith, Institutions, all very tall walls
We hate inclusivity; the walls are programmed to warn us in the room.
For poets of the soup, however, four walls are four pleasant horizons
Ever expanding and contracting as if a cosmic inhalation leading to
happy exhalation in an unending rhythm of life pulsating the heart and
sustaining the ever greening poetry. The world pauses to salute them.
Walls with windows let in million footfalls. Back at the wall, but eyes
and ears unhindered at the air and sky. Joying to live till the day they die.
________________________________________________________________
23 February, 2016
Categories:
joying, anxiety, break up, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
We breeds start to unexpectedly open our eyes,
In the midst of no where we start crying without lies,
the pure gesture we aboard and the nurturing hands we've been weaved in
the numb of love we've been deceived in,
we cry with joy hope and without consciousness,
as those surrounds us start celebrating with hearts righteousness,
this was the beginning of spring with blossomness,
new buds starting to crackle and sing with lightheartedness,
As we open our eyes in this world its new palace which we've stepped in,
with no notion of words and no creeds we've cropped in,
we start growing blooming and tackling with time,
living peacefully and tranquility for the hope with a resulting prime,
we walk through the fence with our hearts melded rusted and molded with time,
we end up walking the path which itself is a question of choice,
who knows whether we are on the right track neglecting the inner voice,
we crumble we rise we fall we abandon,
as we learn with time to cease the thinking with stand on,
then it comes the moment that was the destiny of our journey all along,
we end up becoming received by our deaths before long,
the moment we start departing from the world,
the moment we start letting our eyes getting closed by the cold,
as the body goes numb falling of snow begins,
the newly grown buds start dying out insignificantly,
as the eyes starts closing with no hope of regains,
our heart beat become impulsive with no pure intentions to last longer,
our organs tripled and amalgamated with the hearts idea of revolting,
again who knows if we are gonna truly find peace,
to others that surrounds us we are a lost crease,
we lie resting with no Turing no cries no laughs and soundless,
as they start mourning with there hearts content that's endless,
how odd the world can become,
the ones that were joying are now mourning and crying,
and the ones that were crying are motionless like the calm of a tree,
how tragic it may seem to us and to the world encounter,
but in the end life is a journey from spring to the winter.j
Categories:
joying, winter,
Form:
Epic
Zerk was a lurking berserk
who lived in the murky-murk of the cirque
by the smirking Turk
Zerk was irking a-jerkin’ and a draught of perkin
Zerk was a-joying his shirker’s approach towards work
Zerk was a-starking, a-barking, and a-marking the world with his dirk
Zerk was a-perking for a-harking about bo-razzle and bo-really fools
Zerk was a-quirking, an abundance of uncorking bottles, un-forking sustenance,
and un-storking women
Zerk was not a follower of any kirk
Zerk was a-hoping to clerk for an irksome and biased hipster jerk
Zerk was always a-hanging out with his friends Breschel, and Lurch
Zerk contributed his artwork to the world,
Zerk was by no means a berk, instead he was quite the intellectual quirk
Zerk was always a-yerking out at the berks with his political and philosophical propaganda
Zerk was always a-chirking up Lurch with his meditative-mindset
Categories:
joying, dedication,
Form:
Bio
incompetence seats imperviously in the rock,
watching his last drama in senility;
surrounded by old scoundrels as himself.
Same tyrant of yesteryear who through the powder invaded sanity,
stalling dreams by their guns.
incompetence foist on us by gangsters,
That robbed the destinies of thousand years
protected by criminals, feeding from proceed of fraud
joying in the decay called a country.
That British amalgam of 1914,
Incompetence desperate for power after several disgrace,
whines in tears like a baby at the third attempt.
soliciting empathy by emotions, clueless yet desperate, threatening
“The dog and the baboon would be soaked in blood”
and indeed, his dogs are killing the rest of us.
incompetence sleeps in the rock,
unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury.
incompetence made the rock a domestic arena,
harbors kinsmen as attack dogs,
By nepotism stalls the progress of a Nation,
deluded and assuming that leadership is a cozy comfort away from sufferers.
incompetence is here to rule, Not a Leader, we have no leader yet.
Hides in ambuscade as his clowns misuse words like “The Presidency”
incompetence enmeshed the already besmirched reputation
as gutter tongues ranked us collectively as “hole”
incompetence robs a thousand destinies,
sixty years after the dark days, we grope in darkness
No road,
no water,
no Hospitals
"waiting for “godot”
promising a false future that never comes,
two times incompetence, twice fooled.
Incompetence in Africa's largest hub.
Incompetence makes a weakling of our strength
Categories:
joying, anger, change, corruption, freedom,
Form:
Burlesque
Easter Monday
A day of rest
like a bird in its nest
joying
enjoying
having fun
until it's done
there is no hurry
nor worry
we eat nice food
for us to feel good
we are joyful
it's so cool
good mood
no need to be rude
we sing
with a smile we bring
with wholeheart we give
love to live
in unity
as a united community
on an Easter season
with a reason
of love
from above
from the Divine
Father, Son, Holy Spirit One.
Drencho_POET_Loads
Categories:
joying, easter,
Form:
Rhyme
Buried in an avalanche you
might see on "Hoarders buried alive"
back and foreground
white sheet with limited pay per view,
nonetheless sky scraping heap
(Uriah not kid) nsync with a 'U'-
shaped tube anchored securely thru
solid wood - sporting
towering, leaning, bulging, et cetera slew,
sans huge sized mounds,
this goodfella cockily rue
stirs memories while
almond joying sifting,
(comprising ream mains of outdated queue
vee cee paraphernalia, bank statements, old
fair maidens faded letters, phew
against unrequited lovely lasses
kissed by either gentile or Jew
us gal, during young manhood
confession stated, aye did accrue
now (said besmirched Casanova
wannabe across floor I did strew
said, no longer promising princess,
whose once tenderly fresh rose buds
exuded profusely courtesy ingénue
argh..., how frivolous to argue
with cowardly former self, hence
into the maw of das spouse (Sibyl)
she more than enthusiastically
masticates regarding unblossomed
(romantic opportunity) yours truly blew,
when flickr ring spark flame snuffed out
before profound love chanced to hint
of compatibility, ah... nary a blues clue
maybe best not to fantasize
going down nostalgia avenue,
but cast attention upon motley crew,
no matter I traversed
boulevard of broken dreams
(but oh this...pray lemme tell you
more on this cool spring green day)
ornamented with boughs of churrigueresque
mother nature's divinely wrought
sensational beauty procreative forces construe,
yanking fanciful thoughts back to feeding
pulpy material pages of me child's worldview
scribbled squiggly blurred lines
no doubt gifted artistic prodigies shew
did evince talent this papa doth truly value,
yet an excess of near identical curlique
leaves little breathing room, plus report
cards shows innovative smarts,
frequent affirmations this dada paid due
tee, which gushing praise
my girls never taxed for, yet both knew
this aging baby boomer father decries
being swamped with exorbitant clutter
hence effort now made to save whar grew,
some artistic embellishment and/or
intellectual award, the majority hesitantly fed
into jaw of thee missus the human flew
where hard copy quickly incinerated inducing
me to sneeze atchew!
Categories:
joying, appreciation, april, father, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes, I sit and stare the wall
Sometimes, that name I just call
The name I was too fond to listen
In my eyes, the name just glistened
The name of the person, I could die for
The name of the person, I could cry for
The name which had many memories attached
I never wondered, this soon they would dispatch
The memories of me, laughing and crying
The memories of me, running and joying
The memories of those arms, having me sleep
The memories of those shoulders, having me weep
These memories make me depressed
These memories make me stressed
I cry and cry, all day all night
I know, it can never be alright
All words, for the name to be described, are less
My heart has sunken into the lake of sorrowfulness
That name is a precious gem for me
I didn't knew that person would, so soon, flee
I try and try, to ease the pain
A fallen effort of no gain
My mind is in a wandering state
I can't leave it on my fate
My feelings are a hidden mess, which can't be expressed
These feelings, hurt me and make me depressed
That name, I just think a nd cry
That name, makes me feel, I wanna die
I try harder and harder, to keep myself busy
The depression inside me, makes me feel dizzy
That name, keeps on popping up in my head
That name, makes me feel to be sooner dead
I wish that person had never died
For whom, all these years, I have cried
He took away, my happiness with him
Making my life, all blur and dim
He was my only joy and love
He flew away so fast like a dove
I wish to meet him sooner again
In heaven or in hell, with happiness or pain
My feelings are like those eyes
With corpse in front, and tear of cries
My heart is like that toy
Given all the pain, with the name of joy
I'm caged up in these imaginary bars
That person is the only thing, I wish from the falling stars
I want to be with him sooner again
In heaven or in hell, with happiness or pain
I wish to meet him sooner again
To tell him all my worries and pain
And again our friendship we will mend
In a world which will never end......
:-Aleema Siddiqui
Categories:
joying, 9th grade, death, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
In the cackling, har-de-har, wind
I sashaying, underneath the sky
Frolicking about the flurry
Joying in the air cry
Laughing calmly, among the windy
Rejoicing, beneath the gusty
All the while, walking on air, blissfully
In enchanting, wind gaiety
Categories:
joying, wind,
Form:
Free verse
As time flows by through the waterfall of time
I put pen to paper to complete a rhyme
And through the years I've written such things
From childhood wishes to Angels with wings
Looking back on my earliest writings at hand
I sometimes think I it was then to understand
How simple pleasures give more to me now
Than my biggest dreams could ever have somehow
The laughter of my children I miss so much
They are growing so fast and no longer laugh as such
Gone are the innocent childhood dreams
No more do they ponder over such silly life themes
It is sad really to think that we all
Use to laugh when we skinned our knees in a fall
As we grow older we lose sight of what really should be
The most important of values; love, health and honesty
Putting away our childlike ideas and ways
No longer enjoying or laughing seems like life's in a craze
To hurry here and hurry there no longer in joying the view
So now as I sit here writing and thinking of you
I am grateful for all the things you give
Mostly the little things as we day to day live
Your sweet smile, your hand as we walk the road
Loving embraces when in your arms me you hold
But of all the things you given to me
It's your friendship and love that makes me see
That maybe all of life's childhoods have not gone far
They just waiting to shine like some patient star
As adults if we can appreciate the good things in life
Our health, our children and forget the grief and strife
There's a whole lot more to our lives to be met
If for a few moments a day our childhood ways we do not forget.
Categories:
joying, childhood, day, me, childhood,
Form:
I
He was no farmer, Carl Farmer
He was a loud preaching man
His eyes got wet, peradventure
As we heard the trees and land -
II
"We do not complain though confined -
Bunched together, joying in life
We seek light not more dirt, ground -
See us: Cramped, bright, and quiet!"
NOTE: This was a mystical experience in Central Virginia Carl farmer & I separately experienced around 2018; the same clump of trees (declining forest) was serene, though a tangle beneath the canopy. Speak of "live and let live!"
Categories:
joying, analogy, environment, flower, philosophy,
Form:
Quatrain