Best Measuring Stick Poems
Imagine if you will,
a world of books where all the words
lead to the same place
no matter the beginning (no matter the middle)
A world where trees are never planted, never grow,
but always retain the same shape,
same number of branches, never varying
(not even a little)
Some don't have to imagine,
some want to make it true
Some want to mold us
into identical shapes and hues
(even if it's me,
even if it's you)
Some don't like the chaos that entails
in a society that is free,
but instead would prefer
micromanagement from above...
...to put it frankly, love,
they wanna flatten the sea
They don't like the mess that is You
The mess that is Me
They want to make an equal society...
...but how drab would that be?
To see a mirror-still pond
instead of a crashing sea.
To see a sky full of clouds,
all perfectly round
with none too small and none too big
They want to make things all the same
so let's involve the government!
Make every child a giant,
and every giant a child
Let politicians and bureaucrats
hold the measuring stick
(Family and Friends? Churches and Charity?
How ludicrous!)
They are the ones
with exclusive rights to the reins
You are just the pieces
of their sadistic game
...but they come dressed as an angel of light
with words so sweet it would make you cry
We want to make an equal society
Ha! I wonder why!
So as to challenge the pigs
of Orwell's Animal Farm?
"Some animals
don't deserve to be as equal as I."
We just want to make things fair,
a little here and a little there
Don't be so close-minded,
just give it a try!
But not everyone low
wants to be raised high
Not all who strive for height
wants to be chopped down
We are humans
We like to conquer mountains
by the sweat of our brow,
by the glint of our eyes...
...come whatever may,
we are persistent!
We are humans
We like the free ride,
to claim the spoils without ever needing to try
To be showered with everything
we could ever need
like manna from the sky
We are humans...
(no one ever said we were consistent)
A mind not filled up is just empty space
I'll decorate mine to stay in life's race
With silly string so I'm not too stoic
And badge of courage to help be heroic
A rainbow of colors when I'm feeling just blue
For my wife, some thick paste to stay stuck on you
A bright red heart to remember to love
Wrapped up in mercy that fits like a glove
A Labrador puppy will teach me affection
A compass implanted to show me direction
Scents that are common so I don't be a fool
And measuring stick to follow the rules
Some mathematical facts to say what is true
A river of patience when I don't have a clue
A funny face clown for acting a ham
And people who love me just as I am
So fill up your mind with whatever your taste
A brain not decorated is such a big waste
Reflections
Reflecting upon – it is a dangerous game for one to play
for it leads to flawed judgements – unreasonable expectations
for expectations are seldom realizes or met by others.
Expectations are difficult to live up to, by others or by ones self.
Images projected, those reflections are often built upon fantasies,
illusions, delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to a reality.
Personal history is just that – personal – and not a measuring stick
by which to quantify, see, judge, to comprehend what is here and now
nor is it the mirror by which to bring forward – into the future.
Judge not but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, it’s past, not the story upon which to create – today.
Today is all we have !, yesterday is gone !, - tomorrow is promised to no one !
B. J. “A” 2
January 12th 2007
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It is not a size or a shade or a color. Beauty is not something that can be measured with a measuring stick. It is not something that can be contained either. Beauty is an attitude of the heart. It is a drop of dew on a leaf for a butterfly or the scent of a rose to a bumblebee flying by.
Beauty is not at all what people really think.
It is so much more to me.
Beauty begins in the heart. It is the sum of all the thoughts of a person. It is the reason that gets someone to stand on their own two feet each day and then walk out the front door to serve their King. Beauty is not so much in the eye of the beholder, but is in the thoughts of the conceiver. How will you believe in your beauty this day?
Do not allow the enemy to deceive you into believing his lies over you. Do not allow the enemy to bring your discouragement because you are not a certain size or from a particular region of the world. Are we not all from the melting pot of God? We are all made in His image and we are all created to worship our King. How many times has the enemy tried to tell you that you are ugly and not worth anything because you did not look a certain way? Lift up your head for you are wonderfully created in His image.
Do not conform to the ways of the world, but by the renewing of your MIND.
Responsibility
A question of burden:
imagining a future
where responsibility falls..
Light or heavy
is the measuring stick
which swings at
us all..
There is variation:
light to one
heavy to another..
These are perceptions
which result from
imagining departure
from our
peace just now..
However..might we
observe these departures
from our peaceful place
allowing their departure
within our peace...?
Hello, and thanks for coming
Please come in and take a seat
It’s nice to get familiar
With each of you I’m supposed to meet
I know I was just born yesterday
But that doesn’t mean I am naive
And I welcome the chance to adjust some of you
Before the maternity ward I leave
I know most of you are generated
By my parental units, of course
And some of you through society
And cultural norms will be enforced
But please respect me as an individual
With unique talents and some faults
Don’t paint me into corners
Don’t make my freedom pay the costs
Expectations can be a burden
As well as a measuring stick
My journey will be challenging enough
Without too many of you interfering with it
I scramble up the jagged rocks,
on my way to the peak of this mountain top.
A self-given measuring stick.
Toppling back, I fear I will fall.
Barely hanging onto this rock.
Hardly enough strength to carry on.
Bruised.
Broken.
Beaten down.
A gaping hole of nothing opens under me,
as I stare below me.
Reaching, blindly seeking for the next foothold.
Scraping my way,
my hands feel like they are bloody and raw.
Trying to find my way to the top of that
formidable mountain top.
Just to see if I measure up!
GypsyofEssence
Reflections
Reflecting upon – is a dangerous game to play.
For it leads to flawed judgments – unreasonable expectations.
Expectations are seldom realized or met by others,
difficult to live up to by others, or by one’s self.
These images, projected, especially if those reflections
are built upon fantasies – illusions, delusions -
delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to ,
true reality before one who thinks she sees .
Personal history is just that - personal – and no measuring stick,
by which to see all, judge all, comprehend all and make it the
total essence of the here and now, nor is it the mirror
into which you project and say “ it reflects ”
bringing it, forward into the future.
Judge not, but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, passed, not a story upon which to create today.
Today is all we have, yesterday is gone – tomorrow is promised to no one
B. J. “A” 2
The letter to Monica, 1 pages
January 14th 2007
My Dear Monica :
AS I reflect upon the many diatribes you have pierced my ears, my soul , my heart, my spirit with during these passed seven months – July 13th 2006 – that we have shared time and became intimates ( stories of intimate, personal knowledge ), I have to wonder ?, just what do I really mean to you .
Love
Bill .
I pick them up to examine, one by one,
Those faraway days that now mesmerize me,
Like long-lost treasures hidden deep in the sea.
Could it be that my days are finally done?
Just yesterday, when life had barely begun,
Young and bored, I dreamed that in time I'd be free;
But now, mired in remembrance, where is the key
To unlock the past's iron grasp? There is none.
Hands clasped on my chest, I measure time gone by
In days, months and years, but the tally's the same,
Whatever the size of the measuring stick.
Though I knew long ago the years would fly by,
Time's wind blew right through me, and left as it came,
For life’s just a bubble that death will soon prick.
Gentle power rises from the west mad prairie like settlement
Driven as a demon from above the mountain grays discontent
City dwellers know this as cumulonimbus low altitude weather
Traveling their way at 10 feet per second by the satellite projection
Commencing surface to 6,500 feet up or better or so they say or let on
Variables here suggest wind speeds come on quickly
Heavy precipitation drinks up the sun in low lands down
The better to get wet with high level winds if sanity prevails
Influenced by no one in particular on the solar ecliptic measuring stick
One drip at at a time or drop if you prefer or please
Out comes the sun
It knows what to do
Beyond my consciousness,
in stark relief
A place beyond reason,
all spirits unleash
Beyond my awareness,
I inherit the wind
Each breath I blow inward,
new endings begin
Religion, a concept,
that God can’t abide
Dogma a pretense,
where idolaters hide
In my dreams there’s a voice,
that comes unannounced
Its structure on fire,
new words unpronounced
Time but a weapon,
to use on the weak
Its measuring stick,
to never complete
One question—one answer,
for all that transpires
In primacy wrapped,
no logic hard wired
The years I’d spent looking,
those moments I’d waste
When deep from inside,
with subliminal grace
The great Crazy Horse calls,
chanting words once unknown
“Your vision has freed you,
—its voice now your own”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Sure I compare myself to others
I can think that someone is funnier than me
That someone is happier
Or taller or prettier
Or skinnier or faster
Or smarter or more successful
Or ... anything
But there is still one thing they don’t have
My combination
The combination of characteristics that makes me, me
Nobody can take that away from me,
This isn’t a trade-up situation
It’s not the characteristics I have that
Make me better than another
That’s not the goal, there’s no measuring tool
What matters is the way I use my talents
And since there is no measuring stick,
Doesn’t that mean there isn’t
a grading system?
And if that’s the case, I’m not failing
And if I’m not failing, I think I’d rather spend my time loving myself than searching for reasons why I shouldn’t.
So the self-love doesn’t start when
I get the job I want or I clean my room
Or I start a relationship,
It starts now. Regardless of anything.
Because self-love isn’t attained by anything
Other than what already exists inside of me.
What is Faith?
Faith is a cool droplet of water on a hot summer day
Faith is a rainbow in the middle of the darkness
Faith is the hope of a moment that hasn't come to be
Faith is the substance of my Lord
For when is it that we grow the closest to our Father?
Is it at the beginning of a joyous time of praise?
Or is it at the end of a difficult time?
I say faith is the greatest measuring stick of our love for Father
It is like a bubbling oasis in the middle of the desert
What is it that you are hoping for?
Send your petitions to the King of Kings
And He will grant your heart’s desires according to His will
Hope is the substance of things unseen
Hope is the center of His will
Gwendolen Rix
8-5-14
Time, a human invention if ever there was one,
Though tiss laid blame or credit at the foot of a Supreme Being.
Time a vessel in which to pour our lives,
Time is a skin a measuring stick.
A something to pit one moment against another.
Time is one man's perception of motion,
against one woman's perception of reality.
Time is a tool yet is used as a cage.
How lost would we be if all the clocks ticks ran away with the tocks,
If they pulled down the shutters and headed for the docks.
Time does not heal pain but pain respects time as a coping strategy.
If we all did today what we did yesterday only better,
We would have moved in time but backwards.
Time can't measure the kiss or be home to the beat of a lover's heart.
The hour hand bent over and lifted me up to a high place and said.
"Wrap yourself in yesterday plan for tomorrow but live for today".
"I can see," said I, today is now and here, and I am alive.
This here this you this is us, this second is now so now is forever,
and as for the tomorrow well, tiss said that tomorrow never comes
One of the things I wonder about when we were created,
Is whether or not the use of prayer is overrated.
Because there's certain things that it just doesn't answer,
Such as why bad things exist in the world such as cancer.
There's just some things that we have to understand,
But faith and understanding just dont quite go hand in hand.
As I always like to say," If its not what you expected,
Analyze the situation then move on and just accept it,
God made a decision and now we must respect it,
It may be shaky at first but with time we will perfect it."
Our problem can only get bigger if we choose to neglect it,
Times can get pretty rough, sometimes even get hectic.
God will always be there in His grace to correct it.
He works mysteriously and we might not quite understand,
How He's there to solve our problems, but not always how we planned.
And when we feel abandonded He takes us by the hand.
God will always be there because God equals love,
And he constantly sends blessings from His throne up above.
The blessings are always there,
Sometimes we choose to ignore them,
Life would be much better if only we learn to explore them.
One of the good sides of prayer is it allows you to give thanks,
And it's a good measuring stick in your life of where God ranks.
The goal is for him to reach spot number one,
And share it with the Holy Spirit and Christ His only Son.