Best Leveller Poems
This game of golf as is this life,
Played all life, perfect still can't be,
Ever reminding of one’s wife,
Put on pedestal, upon tee,
Handicaps, roughs, bogies stay rife,
And played as if on edge of knife!
Easy to start, hard to finish,
And harder ever to master,
Followed like an unfulfilled wish,
Always one stroke from disaster,
As in life, handicaps bridge gap,
Eagles two, birdies claim one clap.
What rage be this game every age,
As many highs as there be lows,
A game ever on players grows,
Ageless be this sport in image—
To my liking a bit high brow,
Pricey clubs, carts, caddies in tow.
And if ye think you the ball drive,
Beware of game that drives you naïve,
This game of greens, good to relax,
Greener still goes envied player,
And greatest of a leveller,
Pro or novice likes it like sex.
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Reflections | 01.10.04 |
I saw you from the distance ;
I saw you in my dream ;
You are the queen of my dream.
When I saw you in actual;
You are far and behind from me.
Consciousness run in search of you;
I race by your side and sit with you,
But you never understand my presence
I'm leaving alone ,living alone in this obscure loneliness ;
Tears flows from my eyes;
My heart is not happy without you.
To the zenith of empty sky ;
And the lowest to the depth of the ocean ;
I call your name and seek to every one.
Admist was I in grave concern,
Thinking you would be with somebody's one.
When I finally come near and find you;
You belongs in the hands of the great leveller .
The ache of leaving behind is immense pain
Happier if I could see your bewitching smile.
My heart is crying;
It's crying alone all myself;
Come back and sit beside me forever;
Be my life and savour of my heart.
Oh I'm leaving alone in this desperate abysmal ;
Let me come with you and get together;
Let us make our life and get a charm life.
Thank you.
Have you heard
Of the ravaging virus?
That equal leveller;
That conforms everyone to the same corner
Some say it is the disease of the rich;
Some say it is for the poor,
Just like John 10:10
Its aim is to kill,destroy and devour.
Please stay at home,
Stay three feet apart
I do not want you to live six feet beneath
I do not want you to be laced in white
I do not want you to meet your fate somewhere amongst the cloud above
I do not want your family to be in deep grief.
Wash your hands without ceasing
Wash your hands without counting;
If you must count,
Like the number of time Mantis prays.
Like Wildfire in harmattan
Corona is but a wildfire
Suffocating,
Cutting into lungs like
An empty heartbeats gores into arteries
The rush,the spread,the death
I do not want your chest to be heavy,
Please stay safe.
The Sun will soon smile
We will all live.
As hour piled on hour and day on day,
Several years drove past as decades.
Past now etched in the sand dunes of time,
Displaced by the winds of a bygone era.
Sweet memories fondly remembered;
Several dreams now lived in reality.
Belief systems formed and strengthened:
Habits that hung on through these hours.
Relationships strengthened over time,
Acquaintances who are but strangers today.
Events that have been reinterpreted,
Worries that have now receded.
Priorities that have shifted;
Goals that have been reached enroute.
Wisdom that has been gained through failures,
Self awareness that has ensued.
Time that great leveller,
Who favours no one as friend or foe.
You are asked to take responsibility,
Judiciously exercising free will to grow.
Awarded 3rd place in the "Any Poem #34" Contest by PD
Pondering in sloth riddled exile, Stained by resolute pixel batter
Mutilated by idea’s negligent dirty mudded and infested bath-water
Sharing the extreme imagination contrast reality.
Panic thrusted full pelt entrusted.
Money feeds such little it cares
Freelance breed suffering servant indeed.
The ubiquitous sleeve hidden and deceived
Laughing smiles teeth that gleam
Sweaty handshakes left unfilled and malice built
A practitioner of harmful concept
A leveller of nature’s milk.
Death! Oh Death!!
Thou art the leveller
par excellence
Thou who kills without
mirth
Taking all souls from
hence and thence.
Pity is not in thy nature
Cruelity is thy second
name
Thou tread where no
living dare venture
Stealing souls all along
without shame!
Those with father thou
make fatherless
Parents thou suddenly
make barren hags
My friend thou made a
motherless
Wretch who lives
almost in rags!!!
Death! Thou art the end
to all souls
Existing far and near
the four poles!!!
Death is a great leveller
A balm for all our ills,
Frees us from every sickness
Without a need for pills.
Old rivalries forgotten
Buried under the sun,
Enemies turn cherished friends
For the role plays are done.
Know ether world is richer
With treasures ever be,
Yet we cling to dear life
Afraid that it would flee!
Essence of life is simple
It’s like ringing a bell,
Whose tolling spells happiness
With a magical spell.
The magic breaks not at death
Know this my mortal dear,
True happiness will unveil
When the heavens loom near.
***********
Prolonged illness
Doctor forewarned
‘Might prove fatal’
Family was prepared
“When time comes
Royal send-off
Matching elite status
Grand plans
Cavalcade of cars
Who’s who of society
Wearing unblemished white
Engaged in
‘Animated’ discussions on ‘Death’
Everything better than
That death in Mr X’s family”
.........
Old man’s wish-
Visiting Varanasi
.........
Trip made
Thereafter
Events happened too quickly
Riots nearby,
Complete lawlessness,
Movement impossible
Old man breathed his last
Family got stuck
Cremation couldn’t endlessly wait
Simple funeral
‘Death in Varanasi
Soul goes straight to heaven,’
Priest remarks
Small consolation this
Reason-
Death may be 'The Great Leveller'
But,
All pomp & show of
‘Death- The Event’
Had gone missing.
DEATH OF THE SNOW HEAPS
Like full-bodied youngsters they ruled the street
For a while - rude, unchallenged strength sweet;
Their short life - immaculate seeming.
Hard heartless shells - cold, gleaming.
Now skin shrinks to a nothing-life-span,
Revealing cigarette ends, rusty beer can,
Chewing gum, mud-and-dirt: a midden -
Lifetime-accumulated and temporarily hidden.
Now, shrunk and cracked like old men’s skin
As they lie and die dissolute and thin,
They will soon be forgotten by all talk
As they bleed water across the sidewalk.
Their pile of dirty secrets will soon be
Exposed in the sun for all to see.
The spotless snow was a perfect concealer.
Death the leveller is also death the revealer.
……………………………………
NOTE
City snow heaps in the streets, lasting from November to March, become
filled with hidden trash, which is only exposed when the heaps melt in spring.
I am the reaper man
and I’m always here,
striding through an ambience
of gut rot and fear.
I am the reaper man
with touch as cold as snow,
I stalk the darkest landscape
where angels never go.
I am the reaper man,
neither good or bad,
purposeful or random,
cheerful or sad.
I am the reaper man
lord of the blackest seizure,
the prince of anaesthetics,
the king of analgesia.
I am the reaper man
replete with scythe and hood,
astride the breadth of ages,
reviled, misunderstood.
I am the reaper man
the cataclysmic voice,
the saviour in the shadows,
redeemer without choice.
I am the reaper man
with kiss to render blind,
relentless for eternity,
so cruel to be kind.
I am the reaper man,
a leveller of the deep,
who drops the final curtain,
bestows the biggest sleep.
I am the reaper man
who won’t discriminate,
who visits every living thing
inevitable fate.
I am the reaper man
who pours the blackest rain,
foreclosing on all suffering,
nullifying pain.
I am the reaper man
who no one can avoid,
putting paid to life,
decreeing null and void.
I am the reaper man.
Always close at hand.
I am the reaper man.
I am the reaper man.
SNOWFLAKES
Lightly loaded on the branches
Filigree fingers of delicate white
God’s winter sky-buds starry bright
Made with frosted feather brushes
Fragile frigid frost creations
Graceful lace of white - behold
Their starry form from mist and cold
Sugar icing decorations
All flakes alike In virgin land
Frozen lonely motionless
Filled with silence and with stillness
By pristine heaven’s cool command
Great white leveller, God’s creation
Unique and six-rayed cool mutation
Delightful clean white transformation
Frozen water’s re-creation.
To : Constance -Rambling Poet -
From: Sydney Peck
Contest: "SNOWFLAKES"
LANDING
Big Brother's eye
beyond the sky
Saw it not sneak nigh,
round valley and hill,
gripping necks at will;
No Global Hawk, Predator,
Brigadier, Mirador,
nor fortress and tower high
Could site it here or there,
abridging lives to spare.
And as providers
keep a busy head
on their insecure daily bread,
even as they watch
in dread for the toll
on the new day's scroll;
And as the white angels contend,
with the Reaper's octopus hand,
And as old earth has to brace
For the Reaper's hasty pace,
Behold the mighty potentates
Of every creed,
of all Palace and House,
of every rank and race
Now kneel before Great Leveller Covid
and, on their clayey knees, plead
with him to spare their crown or mace.
Mohamed Mansouri
Tunis (Tunisia), on 14 April 2020
If anyone’s reading this poem, your somewhere in my past
I’m in the future for these ‘right now' moments never last
But still this is your present, such is the way time flows
All relative to the observer, every day comes and goes
So what am I doing right now, as your reading my poem
Perhaps going down a grave, most likely you’ll never know
We share the same planet, occupying two different worlds
One is in our head, the other one continuously unfurls
No matter how life is perceived, were merely passing time
That second hand keeps ticking, whilst hours happily chime
Seasons come and go, putting another birthday in the bag
Our circadian clock slows down, toned faces inexorably sag
Oh time that great leveller, eventually catches up with us all
Greatest force of nature, indifferent to light speed, or a crawl
Who started the clock ticking, or is all just radioactive decay
Countdown has only one direction, sorry there’s no other way
So onwards and upwards, past the stratosphere we will go
Back to where it all started, about fourteen billion years ago
And then what happens, that’s what you really want to know
I’ll let you in on the secret, perhaps not, will only spoil the show
''T'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
06/11/21
Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West
With an explorer’s gait, I walked jumping over gutters
My track, flanked with knee high grass and nettles
Also, wild bushes of all kinds that grew in clusters
I saw dragon flies whirring around in circles
Their wings catching glints of the evening light,
As they buzzed from one blade of grass to the other
Giving a solitary soul benign company and sure delight.
Strange enough, my track ended in an open space,
Enclosed by cracked walls, now a forlorn territory.
There are raised mounds, overgrown with weeds,
I can easily make out that it is an ancient cemetery.
In these graves lie those under the cold embrace of death.
Their toil and trouble ended with life.
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land.
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife.
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession.
Some graves are marked by head stones with crude grooves.
But most of them are nameless, worn out by time
We do not know how or when came their end
Did they die in old age or die in their prime.
Or perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However, their names are blotted out from life’s tome.
They have become inseparably one with the elements,
And they lie here motionless exuding a strange calm.
Generations pass and their progeny comes,
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind,
Nor thinking all the comforts, from their toil stem.
Oh Death, you are the mighty leveller of lives!
With your cold embrace, all differences are ironed out,
And here lies both the king and slave alike,
In silent sepulchres, with all earthly glory snubbed out!
Every night a game of card is played,
four suits fates fortell;
for war is a great leveller
for infantry boys in battle.
Soldiers double-dare gambling,
day and night. All-in a game
of summer hearts; diamonds in spring;
clubs in autumn; and winter spades for graves.
Cards shuffled and dealt face-down,
in grimy hands, that hold all the cards.