Best Judicious Poems
Why, the greatest enemy of man is man
for man has subdued everything else
Fear not the tiger, fear the murderer's plan
Just hearken well to what history yells!
At times twas jingoism, at times a rancorous desire to do harm
Fear just man's malice and his ugly evil
If his dagger blow fails, he'll get you by black magic charm
His heart and mind alone well shelter the devil.
For how many fall prey to lions or snakes
one could even count them on fingers
Man invents a cure for smallpox but missiles too he makes
and he mercilessly kills without harbingers.
Man invented as many things for his destruction and harm
as he did for his benefit and good
He's inventor of bombs as well as tractors on the farm
And doesn't he detest acting as he should?
Man alone is behind the bloodiest of bloodshed
The angels too had foreseen his wars and battles
From the gory battlefield to the humble homestead
with the shrieks of murder our earth forever rattles!
Close your doors and your home secure
not to deter beasts, but to lock out the robber, the thief
For no greater danger than man lurks there for sure
Fear not the fierce bull, that you can turn into beef!
Wild beasts might be known to gobble us up
but isn't man as well found to be a cannibal?
Gosh, humans too on human flesh do sup
Man tis far more fearsome than any poor animal.
The greatest enemy of man thus is man himself
How much blood has he ruthlessly spilt of his own kind
Look out for the bottle of poison on his shelf
Till the deed is done, no knowing what goes on in his mind.
The poor young lady refrains from venturing out at night
How now, what does she so fear?
She fears nothing but assault by man's might
so rarely is she stalked by a grizzly bear!
Fortunately for us, this ain't how it always ends
man can always be the best of friends
So we can still count more on buddies and cronies
instead of focusing on foes and fiends.
For man he can be a hero and saviour
if judicious he is about right and wrong behaviour.
Besides religion as I know, infact does actually foretell
That the end of ALL killers and murderers
is that inferno of divine wrath we all know as hell!
...inspired by 'Science-Fiction Cradlesong'
by C.S. Lewis
Were we to try for heaven,
by dust and stars be riven
to lust for foreign places
where we might find strange faces,
the cost could be pre-emptive,
marginalize incentive.
In tubes of strengthened metal,
to demonstrate our mettle,
at speeds defying gravity,
(for honour or depravity?)
unknown manifestations
might try and test our patience.
Distances beyond our ken,
regions never seen by men,
from earth's fair confines to the skies,
is this judicious? ...is it wise?
Black as ink and unappealing,
drear is this infinite ceiling!
Perhaps we should be circumspect,
think twice before we genuflect,
raise space to a divinity,
but worship what we sense and see,
what price landscapes, dales and hills?
Space may aggravate our ills.
Note: Lewis died in 1963, 6 years before man landed on the moon.
...inspired by 'Science-Fiction Cradlesong'
by C.S. Lewis
Were we to try for heaven,
by dust and stars be riven
to lust for foreign places
where we might find strange faces,
the cost could be pre-emptive,
marginalize incentive.
In tubes of strengthened metal,
to demonstrate our mettle,
at speeds defying gravity,
(for honour or depravity?)
unknown manifestations
might try and test our patience.
Distances beyond our ken,
regions never seen by men,
from earth's fair confines to the skies,
is this judicious? ...is it wise?
Black as ink and unappealing,
drear is this infinite ceiling!
Perhaps we should be circumspect,
think twice before we genuflect,
raise space to a divinity,
but worship what we sense and see,
what price landscapes, dales and hills?
Space may aggravate our ills.
Those who stand their ground...
Their sacred ground...
With their backs against the wall.
Making bold their full intentions
While the slings and arrows fall.
Laying waste an air of happenstance
Permeating sick and feeble minds...
Caring not the monstrous odds
The powers of darkness have aligned.
I fear not this mass of troubled souls
Who demand their pound of flesh.
I contest every foot of treasured Earth.
I contest every loathsome wretch.
I give not an inch to those who dare
Make dark the light of day
To preserve such sacred wanderings
Where the meek would have their say.
I will lift my voice in praise and song
To evince the veracity of my cause
Displaying a knightly measure of gallantry
To give the hapless minions pause.
But sweet victory demands some sacrifice
As a judicious Death may set me free.
Knowing this... would you be at my side?
Would you rise and stand with me?
The End
Were I, Born To Tread Upon A Cold, Sadden Earth
Were I, born to tread upon a cold, sadden earth
Walk naked upon barren and dark dusty plains
Strive only for wealth-never for my true self worth
Would I ever have anything but futile gains?
Were I, to yield to Fate, its cursed flaming breast
Accept living in its shadowy subterfuge
Begging and pleading well that my dreams give me rest
Wallow in the sorrows of Hell's pouring deluge?
Were I, to live and be damn'd to such a Fate
Would my fallen soul be naught but a chained slave
In such blindness only my evil lusts then sate
Existing but in darkness, well within hell's gate?
Were I, to such state, a prisoner born to be
No more than a destined walking bag of bones
Unable to love Nature, its true beauty see
Sentenced to break my teeth eating world's black-stones?
Shall I, wake to live, love and sweet life truly find
Thereby deny the world's darkness its wicked hold
Learn to dance and in calmness let love so remind
There is remedy for world's lies I have been told?
Shall I, another path dare to so boldly take
Seeking peace and joy a man desperately needs
Begin to understand tis greed one must forsake
As one replants with divinely inspired seeds?
Shall I, each new morn rise to a beautiful day
Enter the world but deny its foul, wicked breath
Stop to kneel down and in all sincerity pray
For divine light and courage to face mortal death?
Shall I, live thus to in God's true blessings partake
Of the gifts and joys such a new life thereby gives
Walk anew, a spirit reborn - world's dark mold break
Live as free and happy as man was meant to live?
Were I, to such light given knowledge dare to bow
Dare I, kneel to this light, this great truth, this hope pray
Shall I, with judicious thought rise to do so now
Know I, tis the light that casts the darkness away!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-08-2020
Rhyme, ( From Faith, Light and Truth cometh knowledge )
Note- This new poem was inspired by my having read Greg Barden's
poems Titled, --
1… The white tomb trembles - part 1
2… Sea of Trees
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
Paper is precious
we must be judicious
When we use paper
we must not scatter
bits of paper here and there
It must be used with care.
We write and we learn
it should not be torn or burnt
paper does not come for free
It costs the life of many a tree.
The skillet hung near the old wood-burning kitchen stove.
Aside from her family, Mom considered it a special trove.
With that blackened old pan she prepared delicious repasts,
That in my judicious opinion will ne'er be surpassed!
Ah, just to recall the tasty grub stewed up in that old skillet!
How it tingled my taste buds just sliding down my gullet!
The chicken, steaks and chops in that old pan she did fry,
Evoked oohs and aahs and many a contented sigh!
She liberally dolloped lard in the pan 'til she had it just right,
Then concocted stews, soups and fried taters for our delight!
Mom was never concerned about such things as saturated fat,
Or life-threatening cholesterol and such things as that!
I suppose medicos today would have a conniption fit,
If they knew of the dietary sins my Mom did commit.
She must've done something right - her spouse lived past ninety-four.
Her kids outlived the odds, each reaching four score years or more!
Self-anointed wizards deem cast iron skillets detrimental to our health,
But I think they're just peddling new fads to add to their wealth!
My dear spouse uses her old iron skillet most every day.
I feel fit as a banjo regardless of what so-called experts may say!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Thou art enjoined to enjoyment,
Exhorted to exultation.
Thy responsibility is to be responsive,
and impishness be thy imperative.
So cherish thy good cheer,
And be not judicious in jubilation –
Rather exude exuberance,
For to revel is a revelation, and
It is on pain of death that
That thou art commanded to Live!
Horses are in oblivion
Preferred man-friendly animal since evolution
Today, bit lost in mechanised, chip oriented revolution
Important weapon in Bronze Age ancient wars
Utilised by ancestors as domestic transporter
But now restricted to official events splendour
And few sporting events, races, competitive glamour
And royal weddings, yoked to adorned buggies grandeur
Horses shall be back in recognition
With rising global warming concern
With Oil prices not expected to lessen
Antiquated horse carts demand shall be of high order
Benefits galore, herbivorous help sustaining on grass fodder
350 degree excellent day-night vision, energy reservoir
Capable of resting in short naps in standing posture
Horseshoe, saddle, bridle, rein only accessories major
Horse carts with no carbon emissions
Saddle, hooves sans honking and pollution
No ignition, start-up fuel consumption
No requirement of spark plugs, engine oil can
No seat belts, air bags for protection
Man put blinders on horse for concentration
But are themselves blinded by mad race of globalisation, liberalisation
Man need to put the blinders on self–consumption
Be judicious, avoid ostentation to keep in check carbon emissions
Switch to horse cart, use killer vehicle only in emergent situation
Today horses are oblivion
If ignored concerns for eco-friendly environ
Tomorrow mankind could be in oblivion
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Hitendra Mehta
May 2011
For Members contest – Eco-friendly Vehicle by Robb A.Kopp
A shade of Turquoise,
Vibrant and lengthy,
Smooth like blueberries,
Thick like quilt,
Wrapped in ribbon,
Neatly and tight.
Eyes like pandas,
Big and bold,
Lashes like spiders,
Most are new,
Some are old,
Like my big red luscious lips (or so I am told).
My big frame and stature,
Is not a match for you,
My retro fashion sense,
Vintage like me,
I'm happy with just flowers,
Gerberas red, pink, yellow and green.
Tick, tick, tick says the
Clock,make haste while
The sun shines.
For a stitch in time saves
Nine.
Tick, tick,tick says the
Clock,am always on a
Slow steady motion,
Waiting nor stopping.
Moving like a train-
Carrying along the wise
Ones-for time is in
Constant flux.
Tick, tick, tick, says the
Clock,though I err-as
Regulator of time.
But time waits no man.
Judicious use of time
Yeilds,nonchalant attitude
Breeds failures and
Regrets.
Tick, tick, tick slips the
Time.
My daily work to pursue; all chores to be assigned
Organization is the key, thus concluding in a peace of mind.
The future I cannot foresee, however solid planning in my hands
My employees won’t be led astray, they faithfully obey my commands;
I am patient showing them the right way, hence the day starts with morning bright
Every job is taken by grace while their working hours filled with delight.
Knowing I’m satisfied by looking at my face. High standards and higher they rise,
Pleased I am and my solemn gratitude I pay, rewarding them with a bonus prize.
These faithful workers with me they stay; I am glad that faith made me judicious.
In the bible it states that no sin is more fraudulent than another,
so in this mighty country that we have labelled the Home of the Free,
why do we judge each other, constantly dropping the judicious mallet that belongs to God,
point fingers and ridicule the next man,
determined to cause fright,
but inside we are petrified it might,
be our turn to face this judgmental fight,
what will they say when your sins are broadcast... Under the Lights
For ages, I used to rear my goats serenely;
Before I invited Mr. Hyena at home.
Green prairie my goats adored around the home.
Peace, the rustics relished too;
But an intolerable mistake I made inviting him.
Peace and life of villagers he happily bothered.
As an approachable and judicious man, he came;
With everyone and every junction to acquaint:
Who did what, who slept where and when, he learned.
To viciously raid all the goats;
Eating some and scarring others.
Distress and insecurity led others to absconding.
As some of our friends, Mr. Hyena behaved.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile