Best Layman Poems
Firstly, one has to take into account their scientific peers’ remarks,
As to the likely cause of how an Earthquake starts.
Some forums say it is caused by the shift in tectonic plates,
Others seem to doubt, seem to hesitate.
Some believe a government conspiracy of a machine that causes the devastation,
Their conspiracy being at the cost of the suffering of another nation.
The layman believe, if all the people in China, at the same time jump,
It would cause worldwide earthquakes as their feet come down with a thump.
Nevertheless, to conduct such a feat would be a difficult task
Therefore it has never been tested and is considered a farce
I have read the theories from all these schools of thought,
And collated the facts that backs my theory which is now widely taught.
Take some time to cogitate the facts
Sit back and take the time to chew on the fat
You will see the simplicity in my theory
And say to your self it’s all true how eerie
The Earthquakes are caused by, you guessed it me and you
From the sexual experiences we all go through
Example:
“I felt the Earth move, how was it for you?”
And she would say “I felt it tremble and saw fireworks too”
Or:
I saw Jane today, you know, the one that makes me go weak by the knees
She’s a real knee trembler a real sex tease
Now imagine these experiences on a grand scale,
No think bigger than me misses; I know she’s bigger than a whale
They say there is a couple having naughties every second of the day
That’s many earth moving experiences I have to say
These minor trembles are absorbed by the earths crust from these sensations
That occur in every town, country, and among diverse nations
So when you lie in bed savouring the tasty aftermath
Before you decide to take a bath
When you think how he or she made you feel the earth move
You have contributed to the making of earthquakes and there’s the proof.
Good night
Writers wrong readers with wiles
Please protect poetry and prose
From flagrant fraudulent fancies
Of overwritten odius odes.
A related collection of poetry
Now can be published at whim.
The author just needs lots of money,
Hubris,and perhaps a few pencils or pens.
Once the selection is published,
Layman will fawn at the elequent jewels,
Of eight words of lithe, flowery meter,
Grouped together by formal,old rules,
You and I know better,we can't be fooled.
Another anthology appears
Boldly boasting ballades
Can't construct cinquain
Ditto deconconstructing didactic
Easy efforts elevate essentially
Fabulous flippery, fun, fauxmance.
Give gifts ,gaity, glory
Hide hyperbole ,hail honesty
Ignore idiosincricy
Jubilant jeweled jots,
Krielle knowledge,
Luminates lovers learning.
Masters manage monoku
No one notices nonsense
Only ones own oratory
Presents problems personally
Quatern quixotically quizes
Rhymers,readers, royalaires.
Simples statements said softly
Translate terse tense truthfully
Unless unabridged
Villanelles vex vaguries
Written without wordiness
Yes,you yearn, yearn yonder
Zee's zero
For Deb's Challenge A A and a Mistress
Brenda Atry
The clarion call i obey, i was called to serve my fatherland,
to experience a different cultures, norms, beliefs, ideologies to see and feel a different region..
Days gone by, months gone by, i understand the people's clamour, their unimaginable unbearable hardships,
The weather is cruel and harsh, it stings like a scorpion bite,
The sun is hot it hits deep into the depth of my skull..
Breeze ceased,
Sweat dropping,
Water is expensive,
Life is expensive too,
Tribalism is venomous,
Segregation is disastrous,
The leaders are heartless, they show favoritism, regionalism and expect obedience, harmony and peaceful co-existence from the masses... One Nigeria they said, i bet that's only on paper..
Our leaders enjoy luxury,
the poor masses are chaotic,
A layman prioritised family problems rather than societal change.. A bad orientation leads to misunderstanding, the three majorities are considered while the minorities are at bay..
Our country is in turmoil, herdsmen stories on the newspapers front pages, their settlement burned down to ashes,
Farmers ambushed and killed..
Life lost..
No peace within!
Our leaders ain't planning for a better tomorrow but for tomorrow's election, several years down the line our stories still remain the same..
My fatherland was my pride now my dissapointment,
So many graduates unemployed, the jobs are reserved for the sons and daughters of the elite..
The street is filled up with crimes...
I exclaimed!! Who will bring back harmony to our dying nation??...
A different breed of human
Is the scientist, it seems,
For things beyond my ken
Compose the basis of his dreams.
While average people think about
Activities mundane
The scientist may delve inside
The pathways of the brain.
In language I can't understand,
The research gets explored;
Discoveries that knock his socks off
Leave the layman bored.
I'm grateful to the scientist
Whose pinpoint laser scope
Produces end results without which
We'd relinquish hope.
The Little Heart
by layman on Nov 8, 2011. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved THE LITTLE HEART
A little, little girl
Looking very smart
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
She is like a rosy rose
Dancing like a lovely plant
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her voice is like a cuckoo bird’s,
Her speech is like a little parrot’s
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Her world is like a princess’ world,
Her parents, like a king and queen
Come, come, come
Dear little heart.
Though, her world is like a princess’ world
Her parents like a king and queen,
Dark, dark, dark,
Every ,every where.
MADHU PATTIATH
http://allpoetry.com/poem/9104741-The_Little_Heart-by-layman
The Innocent Culprits
by layman on Jan 25, 2012. © Madhusoodanan Kizhakkepattiath, All rights reserved
Except you and me,
Everyone slept in midnight.
O, lovely, Nolhivaram,
... what is left, me alone.
Vultures of universe,
Flying around,
Left a little,
for you and me.
The innocent children,
Mind tortured,
Roaring at me,
A taste of passion.
Me, a lover of thy beauty,
Never pinched a little,
In shadow lights.
Beauty of ocean,
Beautifies not,
The men of broken heart,
A lost paradise.
The roaring tides,
Blows at beach,
Never be happy,
In vultures peak.
The unknown beautiful,
To the known painful,
Does it in nets,
A little in seas.
The soldiers of seas,
Solitary in heights,
Webs their morrows,
In night's paradise.
A Little is left,
To me, a unknown,
By the heart of beauty,
With innocent culprits.
BY MADHU PATTIATH
http://allpoetry.com/poem/9313307-The_Innocent_Culprits-by-layman
The country is so filthy with garbage all over the dearest homes People are sick with unpleasant smell and poor sanitations, poor managements. In such country that claiming to have functional government to the gravel of my thought, pin the pain to pink appointment in the morning to monster cowries to swing of crabs.
Fed up witnessing innocent souls departing from us seeking another world with totally different environment, where your face cooler to the duty of your fingers to the fan of the grave. You suppose to stay here to helm it people, then you left us in innumerable thoughts, the garment hem are the only thing picturing in my imagination.
He cannot stop the pain of death panging the back to the battle field, the flies force the citizens to leave the city and seek another continent of no communication between people. People only stopped slapping their faces when they are in beds; the country is stinking like rot eggs middle summer while the heartless man exploiting our resources to rusticating and resuscitating his family overnight.
Keeping us captives in our mother’s wombs, well they are living in luxurious lives styles and pushing the best cars in town, the layman is down there with curled hair sweating to make end meets. He cannot fill his belly with a single dietary; they blow their noise on us whole day with their cars beeping all days long.
Cursing us with exhaust pipes poisoning our lungs, the city is candles city there are no infrastructures because they have built fences of tribalism which keep us apart. The poor have no alternatives except to flee the city, because they no longer welcomed to integrate with the elites.
The country is littering with rubbish, sick is everywhere; people are dying from treatable diseases. The country is bust up with tribalism, sectionalism and nepotism. The citizens are seeing impotent government steering the wheel of the state like the moment of a statue and there are lots of frustration among the youths and the elderly.
The country has contaminated with toxic acid of tribalism, politics has eaten in our hearts establishing hared among cemented thought and mechanical breakdown.
The sub-conscious jugernaught,
And it’s defence mechanism,
For so long your multi-faceted dimension we’ve fought,
So commonly known as super ego, ego and id’ism.
We can all be mean, jealous, envious,
Sometimes kind, caring and compassionate at best,
What we don’t like, we call social deviance,
I know all the me’s I can be, collectively we’ve got a chance,
Not much is known by the layman,
There’s a reason we feed from the tame hand,
Each one of us immensely powerful,
We need our vision back to make it's power null,
revealing, no cohesion, a fictional entity cull.
The mind unravels and absorbes the 'knowing' wealth,
letting go of the ego and in 'their' terms my mental health.
Mother! Show me the way
The real parent
A seed plant from its plant
From what is planted comes a real parent
Mother! Show me the way
No more arguing
From blood, fresh, water and going_
Forming a child of parent and mothering
Mother! Show me the way
I call her mother
Calling her everything I don’t bother
No me nor brother
Remembering a steam, real world of father
Mother! Show me the way
She might be left
Meandering right to left
The children to benefit
From back looking the prints left by foot
Determining the real gear from the pot
Of my mother in order to eat
Mother! Show me the way
She might be used
Let me call the pleasurable to be not measured
From where by the moments of pleasure my father pretend
Removing day, welcoming dark, these depend
The direction of the day of today in play
This is the horned saying of the poet to deploy
Mother! Show me the way
She sweat without sweet
Day to day, morning to morning
Humidity encouraging her, motivated under digging
What was found, taken without any profound?
To the others to eat, from my mother’s sweat
Mother! Show me the way
My African mother, a real woman
Regardless of no man, a teacher or layman
As you see the moon, out from the sun
Show that I’m your son, let me out from the summon
As it is what we get out from what we receive in
Negative relation and the negative impact come on
Mother! Show me the way
EMOTIONS
emotions:
Universal language of
The subconscious,
Unprocessed feelings of
Inner self
Your thunderous silence
Supersedes any utterance
The conscious can offer
Bringing thus understanding
To the hearts and minds of
Men
Blessed is the one who the
Plethora of your expressions
Can master
Be he a learned man or a
Layman
For the truth hidden in
The hearts and minds he
Can decipher
Thus
Brute honesty can prevail
Over embellished utterances masterminded
By
The diplomatic conscious
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 MAY 2013
Privilege coming from the man in equality armor
Unheard of by the layman.
They say things like
“well you don’t quite understand”
And
“this is what you need”
I am sure it’s not what I want
But
I don’t quite understand
High raised community of elongated propriety
In the infirmity of structure moved in the liability
Man's weakness is his bright visions to a lost sight
Unclear to remove layman rules unfolded
By blind ambition in quivering mission
Of thuggery not gained in format by living
But believing in confused formulator of plan B
Of lateral shift in dimensions in the mind
If you mind hiding behind the revised lies
That lies in the epicenter of grey truths
And broken youths to immoral elders
In which illusions enter as history
Turned into fact then held in the highest regard
But there are no foundations in this yard
While the watched herd is heard rebuking the truth.
Long ago in Northern England there was a big lake of heavenly nectar. The lake was called 'Love'. One day Layman was going along the lake-side road with his friends. He didn't know how to swim but had a secret wish to taste the nectar. So he, going through the pavement, intentionally slipped down the lake and began floundering to and fro. But none of his friends came to save Layman as they too didn't know swimming. Layman struggled much to save himself and probably he could do so had he not focused on tasting and swallowing draughts of nectar. He was a drowning man but he didn't crave to live without swigging more and more sweet nectar with mouth wide-open, eyes glittering with untold pleasure, and heart replete with joy. , Some moments later, Layman drowned with a broad smile hovering over his jovial face.
Lea, lush cordial waits
dawn, a promise of dew,
yet couldn’t stop the moment
stealing the moorside view.
The turn of Alf’s cart wheel
broke the silence of the night,
the beat of a lone heartache
stole the dark from the light.
“Picturesque Turner Lane”
The wind aloof did hone,
the old grey stone “Bar House”
Stood there, cold bare alone.
Out of the earth the village
rose, where the lake settles deep,
“Parson’s Lane” An expressway
to stone mason, layman, sheep.
New age enfolds the bridle
path, in the meanness of June,
wading amongst celandine
to a “Fats Domino” Tune.
Bare face against the window
precious eyes, craving stance,
a candle waits for someone
to touch in warm romance.
For youth is a learning curve
an implant, of worldly ways,
maturity dismantles
the lust of innocent days!
© Harry J Horsman 2010
Every layman knows that since long ago,
painting, sketching and sculpting
by those possessing valid talent
has produced art that exhilarates hearts
and/or thoughts as artistry caught.
Not all know that our modern times
paired fine arts’ aesthetics chime
with craft’s utilitarian cadence
under Visual Art's mega umbrella.
Many wish riddance to this ambivalence.
To me, the grabbing-high from creativity
comes when it moves me perceptively.
I’m not much for art particulars,
its critics, popular trends or scholars.
I have my own criteria for art to
be brought home and share my hearth;
it must spark my imagination’s girth
with a delight that bubbles forth.
Druid
Prophetic Intelligent
Teaching Philosophizing Envisioning
Priest Cleric Amateur Dabbler
Escaping Studying Performing
Average Ordinary
Layman