Best Link Up Poems
Gradually life became about survival
suddenly my friends became my rivals
don’t see them now, think they’re my enemies?
That they'll never be, they’re treasured memories.
Would I go back and alter?
Maybe small altercations
but feel forever blessed to
have had friends so amazing.
And though some did me wrong
maybe I did them too
we’ll leave that stone unturned
to preserve and not chew.
In all fairness to have had our paths link up for so long,
creating so much before it all went wrong
is really rare and special,
we lived on the same level,
the pitfalls and perils
as we smoked ourselves sterile.
On different paths now
as our distant laughs sound
in memories less loud
a group of friends once proud.
These people I can never side against,
how the power of the past prevents,
can never hate these ladies and gents,
after all they made up my greatest events.
Because...
Over time life becomes about survival,
suddenly your friends become your rivals,
don't ever allow them become your enemies,
walk away and keep them as good memories,
because one kind not to store in your memories,
are the many you meet out to be enemies,
these people are nothing but your rivals,
keep your friends your friends it aids survival.
My father is gone but my husband’s around,
As well as my kids and the grands,
So we made up a plan we’d link up for the day
As the calendar kind of demands.
Just some time in the house to spend shooting the breeze,
Catching up with a book and some songs,
Then a trip to the playground for running around
All together, as family belongs.
Who needs presents or barbecue, flowers or beer
To mark what is a made-up event?
For an afternoon joined with the ones that you love
Is the way Fathers’ Day should be spent.
I am fearfully, wonderfully made
There are two eyes in my head with which I see
Two ears one on each side to hear birds chirp, leaves russle, that please
One mouth with which I can eat all the bounty of earth made for me
Two hands which accomplish work or play
Two feet to carry me forever and a day
He's fearfully, wonderfully made (Bumblebee)
One large body heavy in design
Delicate tiny wings thatcan carry him around
Fuzzy on his body and legs to carry lots of pollen
He helps propagate the garden
Strange creature on this earth by God's design
We're fearfully, wonderfully made
For our cells to be fed by protein power
There's a manufacturing machine inside that works twenty-four hours
It has to stretch out a chain; take it apart
Then fill up and twist it back like logos linking up
Then when its finished all the parts match
Fits together like a zipper or train on track
(This is the results of knowing about Huntington's Disease.
Flipping channels on tv on day seeing a person explaining
how our body has to be able to use protein..HD is caused
because a person's body can't use a protein on the DNA
link CAG...It is the G part that they can't use..They think
that in the process of the body fixing the protein on the
link that something is destroyed or damaged so that it
does not link up so the body can use it.)
(Same day watching religious progam the preacher used
the scripture "I am fearfully and wonderfully made".)
(Then I wrote a poem using bumblebee which we have
many of around here..There are many carpenter bees..
So I wanted information..I learned that the bees' wings
are seemingly too small for its body..Scientist say there
is no way the bee can fly with those wings but it does.)
I am saying this is rhyme because I don't know what
else to call it..Sara
Poetry is about faith, a song, and sometimes a checkup.
It’s about that girl on the other side you want to link up.
Poetry is about the beauty of life when you want to grow up.
It’s about lost love and now all you want to do is throw up.
Poetry is about the frustration that makes you want to blow up.
It’s about all those things you just said and you want to backup.
Poetry is about a good night of sleep but you struggle to get up.
It’s about the time it takes you in a rush to put on your makeup.
Poetry is about being stuck in traffic because there's a pileup.
It’s about realizing you should take your car in for a tuneup.
Poetry is about the spring fresh air in the morning when you get up.
It’s about enjoying a breakfast together with hotcakes and syrup.
Poetry is about being at your local bank when there's a holdup.
It’s about the police showing you all of these people in a lineup.
Poetry is about family reunions when you don't want to show up.
It’s about all of the gossips, you hear while sipping on your teacup.
Poetry is about going to the doctor’s office to get a workup.
It’s about finding yourself at the local gym, counting a pushup.
Poetry is about all of these emotions that need to be let up.
It’s about writing things down balancing your life to shape up.
Edward J Ebbs - September 13, 2014
Written for a Contest, How Poetry Began
Valentine's day instills romance
amenable to the heart's call
enticing love to take a chance.
February finds time to dance
as winter temperatures fall
Valentine's day instills romance.
Happy hearts slip into a trance
that encompasses one and all
enticing love to take a chance.
Dances get prepared in advance
for when winter slows to a crawl
Valentine's day instills romance.
Sharing a reassuring glance,
she wears innocence like a shawl
enticing love to take a chance.
When hearts link up by circumstance,
they don't defer to protocol.
Valentine's day instills romance,
enticing love to take a chance.
(Villanelle Poem)
1/24/2016
This is not a message to attack my brothers
But it is a message to attract my brothers
Black men we cannot deny who we are
Or the definition of our true color
No matter how we look at our lives
We must recognize that we are poison to ourselves
Trapped in our own minds like prisoners
Not having the proper release to realize
Who we are, and how strong we are as a people
Instead we've been living a lifestyle
Where we're not happy unless we're holding each other back
When Malcolm X quoted: By Any Means Necessary
He meant that he would help his people
'By Any Means Necessary
Not for us to hold each back
'By Any Means Necessary
I've learned that we're the only race of people
That are more powerful and smarter they any other
However, we've somehow got caught up in self gain
We fight each other, rob, and kill each other
Trying to get ahead in life
But once you take a good look back over your life
You'll see that you haven't traveled far at all
Ask yourself this question
If we can't be safe around our own kind
Then who can we be safe around
So we need to reverse our mind set
Instead of being a prisoner in your mind
Start thinking open and clearly
Be free like a bird
Say to yourself, there's nothing, or no one
Holding me back from being who I want to be
Link up with strong positive brothers with like minds
Instead of trying to hold them back
Help to build them up, and push them towards their dreams
'By Any Means Necessary
If this continues, and has a popcorn effect
Do you know how this will make us all better people in so many ways
Brother it's true when they say
It's strength in numbers
There's nothing more stronger, powerful, and more dangerous
Then an educated black man
With that being said........
Image the strength and power in a million of us
Working together, with the same hearts, minds, and drive to make our world a better place
'By Any Means Necessary!
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
(Joy Williams, b. 1942 in Sydney. Since she was born « fair » of skin, the authorities forcibly removed her as a baby to be placed in a children’s home, and at the age of 6 to be assimilated in a « white » institution. She later studied for a B.A. at Wollongong University in New Soth Wales.
Joy’s first born, Julie-Anne Joy, was taken from her at 10 months by the Aboriginal Protection Board. She worked for an organization called : « Link-Up » in Canberra with tentacles all over the continent whose prescribed aim was to bring together parents and children thus forcibly separated by the authorities. Joy, finally, « linked-up » with her family 42 years after enforced separation. – Info culled from K. Gilbert’s Inside Black Australia,
Penguin, 1988.) T. Wignesan, Paris, December 16, 2016.
Les Souvenirs de Noël – Translation of Joy Williams’s « Memories of Christmas » by T. Wignesan
C’est 16 heures la veille de Noël et je pense de toi.
Je m’amuse en rappelant de ce que tu as dit : Noël est pour les
enfants –
Je pleurais car je ne jamais étais un enfant.
Je vois un arbre, tout allumé des guirlandes de Noël,
J’aperçois la réflexion des lumières dans les yeux de mes enfants tandis qu’ils dansaient autour de l’arbre avec une anticipation joyeuse.
Je me demande ce qu’elle aurait pu être la vie d’un enfant.
Est-ce que mes souvenirs auraient pu être heureux au lieu de rien ?
Est-ce que mes enfants se souviendront de leur enfance ?
C’est le matin de Noël,
J’entends des cries de joie,
On m’a réveillé d’un sommeil agité et j’ai senti deux pairs de bras autour de moi,
J’éprouve le sentiment qu’on a besoin de moi.
Dieu, comme j’aime mes enfants !
J’essaye d’apprécier le Noël à travers d’eux, mais, à l’intérieur, je pleure,
Une nonne arrive avec une boîte de vivres et je me sens maladive et vidée,
Elle comprend ce que je ressens. (Mettez la boîte là, je dis.)
C’est le soir de Noël,
Je suis fatiguée.
On m’aime.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
My brother David met William Geris
A former head of state of Utopia
Having dinner in the city of Paris
They talked about big things
David had plans to run for the state Judiciary
So he discussed it with William Geris, He said
Go ahead David, for me that will be beneficiary
Play the music and let them dance to your tune
Get to the poor folks and promise them heaven on earth
Woo them with sweet words of a better tomorrow
Breaking the cycle of poverty and a prosperity rebirth
Promise them free education and free health care
You need to go to all the churches
Promise them every valley will be filled and every mountain made plain
You need to be charismatic to show you are ready for service
And don’t forget to say your long prayers
You need to hang out with the drug smuggling gangs
To really show you are one of them
Tell them to give you the chance to emancipate them from death pangs
And know well, they love to break laws and ransack state properties
You need to link up with Organization for Youth Ablaze (OYA)
“A Change you can see! A Change you can believe in!!”
Now that is what I call the ‘advertising phase’
Promise them of gargantuan jobs and scholarships
You also need to hung out with the financial gurus
A kind of ’Dating’ before Marriage
Sound it aloud, they are the ones with the clues
Cars-Yes! Gargantuan contracts-Yes! Meetings at some posh hotels-Yes!
Pull the wool over their eyes, indicting songs of hope and peace
But when you lose the election insists on a recount
A diversionary tactics of getting the opposition votes cease
“I’ll slap you so hard that your teeth will come off”
Mr. Geris is this what is on the ground, you call politics?
It looks like I will be a schoolboy fantasy and a sketch cartoon
David, my son most politicians have with them a bag of Poly-ticks
I call it the absurdity of the absurd Poly-tricks
Mother Trees
will subdue deforesting Earth.
International Green Parties
will conjoin Democratic Organisms,
not so much Machines,
to re-invite WinWin ReBorn RePublics
of and for CommonGround bicameral healthy-wealth,
short- through long-term
wellbeing outcomes.
Those with LeftBrain EitherWin/OrLose challenges
link up karaoke machines and podcasts
to sing and dance new cooperative green anthem
rounds enabling outdoor ecoschool four seasons
in 4D spacetime RealTime
deep learning how to sustain ecovillage nutrition centers
with resilient multicultural abilities
for nurturing water-womb oceanic habitats
and intercontinental wealthy souls.
Organic cafes
build self-entertainment cooperatives
for ballroom and square dancing,
jazz and comedy improv,
blues and soul,
gospel and GodSpell
praising Gaia's gentler green reminders
to take our anthro-centered WinLose hubris
down an EitherUs/OrThem notch,
or even Lose/Lose depressing dualistic two,
away from most self-declared SuperElite
competitive false anthro-wealth
codependent hoarding of fake-health fatalities
between us.
Earth poetry contests,
grow more comparative cooperations
of WinWin polycultural
multicolored ultra-violet hues
and ecofeminist strains,
wonder and awe
transparent greyscaled shades
of double-binding fractal double-negatives
equals positive yang/yin energy
integrating timeless convex/concave octaves
in WinWin water-wombing webs.
She doesn't want a boyfriend, she wants a winter love
She's on the prowl for a man to give her hugs
She's going to steal his hoodies and leave him cold
This is the saddest love story ever told
She looks and smiles and we fall for it
She gives us the number and we end up calling it
We link up, have a few dates and then we know what happens
The alcohol leads us to think the night had passion
We wake up next to a stranger we don't know
She offers us breakfast before we go
We stay for a bite to eat, next thing we're discussing the next date
She's the queen and has us in check mate
We let her wear our hoody, she keeps it forever
She'll still have it when we're not together
She uses a guy to keep her warm instead of buying a coat
I fear losing more hoodies than getting my heart broke
I've lost so many already, they're out there in the wild somewhere
I want my hoodies back, it's not fair
Please don't take it serious ladies, I'm just having fun
But if you want to wear hoodies, you'll have to buy your own one
Get up and at ‘em be strong,
feeling I am reborn,
coming back and full on
like an atom bomb!
Expose their corruption
my life saw disruption
I’m putting right the wrong
from where I left off,
unsighted and lost,
but I’ve worked it now,
connect the dots,
going berserk (bloaw).
All I needed was understanding,
couldn’t tell, look potty and shot,
standing strong now, shouting all I’ve got.
Giving it back to cowards
for slander attack, you aint empowered,
and this ain’t back handers or slapped faces,
it’s baseball bats and collapsed in places,
metaphor, you fool,
I use words to tell all.
Remember me?
Obsessed with bringing me down,
made an enemy,
left me beaten on the ground,
it wasn’t the end of me,
by you my friend I’ll never be!!
You changed me and strained me,
left me mentally exhausted and drained,
controlling my reputation, like trolls,
shrinking opinions,
Satan spawn minions.
Strolling through life in the free,
silently proud of what you did to me,
living fearless, all clear,
wetting your pants when I reappear,
and I’ve no fear,
alive so all can hear,
survived to get here!!
I’ve so many angles to ring bells,
shake up made up minds in that hotel,
you contaminated them then, now they don’t care,
until one thought they have seems spare,
so they think back to yesteryear,
and suddenly link up as question marks appear,
as lost logic starts to become clear.
What I say will line up, ring alarms,
dislodge your corrupt,
I’m not out for physical harm or have you in a line up.
Telling my story, it’s written,
it’s just this,
come back biting poetic justice,
think I fight just fists,
I've wit and you're just twits.
Now I understand, I drop it move adjust flourish,
understand why I was discouraged,
putting truth on a perch, it ain’t perjury,
my story you got me personally.
and others won’t see the truth if they choose not,
but it’s there in view and now won’t move or be forgot,
so if people refuse they do as they do,
in time they may question clues and ask questions of you.
I’m done with it now anyway,
spoke and exposed,
my link to all this now disposed.
All I needed was to understand, now I do,
I’m a rose re-rose and roses grow,
with thorns that warn,
I’m done now, letting go.
And I’m feeling good too,
I’m living life, and I’m not you.
In a session of shower
I send two lines in whatsapp
And wait for some flowers
To bring me a bird seated on a second
If not on hours
Why no bee yet
Is the other window now
Tired of alphabet
Or after another bait?
I feel uneasy
Are my words far from sea
Lacking the flavour of a glee
Whatever it may be
I miss the dense tree
Of blueberry
In the swing of fancy
Far away
From all property
Of land building or sea
At sunup, I
Wait for the cup
The crimson link-up
Tactile memories of touch
In today's embroidered crutch
But no cup yet
Seconds and minutes militate
I wait
For the playmate
To palliate
And sedate
Late autumn here in Bengal
Unlike in the West
Is still a boy and girl of nineteen
Walking hand in hand
Brand 'Hemanta’
The name for the season
As wind blows up sands
As riverbanks chat with woodland
Pink yellow and green
Leaves and flowers umpteen
Can be seen
Writing lyrics
Pink drumsticks
Winter is yet to set foot
Frost yet to collect at the root
To erase monotony
I come to hug the shadow of mahogany
From nowhere
Clouds gather in the small golden plates near the trunk
The chipmunks run away
Light and shade in your plait
I have to wait
I look up to the sky
Where clouds fly
Storm unfurls
Their headful of grey curls
Laugh and say
Why do you shake your leg so much in dismay
Haven't you seen the evening
Waiting for hours in its swing
To hug the jasmine blooming
Starlight guiding them
Just look how the sunshine
Kisses the clouds
A twilight flower drops into
A white sea
Expanse for trance
No need for your eyelashes to dance
Instead of getting tempted
By the red and yellow petals
Of being impulsive
Wait and enjoy
The cloud and sun hug
November 16, 2017
Chasing The American Dream Part1
The wonders of social media and its different applications ...
They allow everyone to make reconnections and link up broken communications...
Recently through the ever pervasive hphone What's app application...
Chanced upon a long lost childhood acquaintance while in primary education..
Going back 50 years or thereabouts, we were school kids so care free...
School was something we had to do going by our respective parents' decree...
Classmates were aplenty when we were that little and so carefree...
Being that many, some were invariably great company and others were on the periphery...
Now that this generation of us are all pushing 60, greying and decidedly growing old...
Facebook and What's app are some social media aids we indulge among friends so old...
Little wonder we are like scattered oats, prospering all over the globe...
Many of us are already dotting GrandParents and savoring our golden years...
A few adventurous souls have conquered distances, seas and the oceans...
They are no longer residing here in Bolehland, the motherland where they were born....
These adventurous ones are now Australians, Singaporeans and one is even in Kiwiland...
And of course, a few are living the American Dream, lapping it up in the Land of the Free...
Now, at the present moment in history, Bolehland here is far from rosy...
Our currency, thankfully it is stabilised temporarily, has fallen considerably...
The political situation is a tumultuous one with frequent spats of public bickering...
The ruling party appears less than satisfactory and perceived to be corrupted and less than worthy...
The common people, the rakyat, are understandably far from happy....
From the onslaught of removed subsidies, new taxes and heightened cost of living ...
So things are far from rosy here in Bolehland, very much unlike the fabled American Dream...
Where freedom reigns to provide golden opportunities of revelling in the American Dream...
So here's the glaring difference, Bolehland here is sliding down a slippery slope of economics...
While far beyond the horizon, the Trump administration is working towards making America Great Again...
What a difference...
From Loneliness to Linkages
In the midst of a lonely night
With not a voice to greet the ear,
And not a human sign in sight,
Seated at a familiar desk
With faint fingers on the lap-top
And a thoughtful mind not at rest,
In the quietude of a room
I dare not ever call my own
I can hear my breath in the gloom,
The tick of the clock on the wall,
The rustling of the gentle winds
As they caress leaves that do fall
As feathers on the lowly ground,
The sharp shrilling sounds of crickets
And the quavering croaks of frogs
From a nearby verdant thicket.
From the loneliness of my room
I try to link up with the multitude
As I press down the keys of my laptop
To create verses in deep solitude
And rhythms with or without rhymes
In a freely structured version
Beyond the bounds of space and time
To convey my deep-seated emotions
Gathered in solitude and quietness,
Share my cherished thoughts and visions,
Impart images ingrained in my mind
In the daily course of my lonely life
To one and all who may wish to find,
In a bid to forge linkages with friends
Beyond the range of the oceans
And bring down the loneliness to an end
Written by Krishnanand Guptar
18 February 2023
POEM 47 LOVE IS POEMS
IN MY COLORFUL LOVING WAY SHE IS FOR ME
I FOUND A NEW LIFE WITH HER TO LINK UP WITH ME.
I NEVER FOOND ANYONE LIKE HER IN MY LIFE SHE IS HAPPY PERSON.
SHE IS SOME ONE YOU WILL NEVER FOR GET IN A LIFE TIME.
BY:MR.JERRY BIG PAPA WELLS