Best Meed Poems
A gut full of grease is a glutton for greed
A swirling cesspool of sinful man's seed
These men of corruption, a pitiful breed
They trust their own hearts, which deceives them indeed
Prey for the fallen and wicked to feed
Who whisper with promise to fill man's each need
They scoff at God's promise, those depraved will not heed
They mock every word in God's Book when they read
Rejecters of Truth, in which mankind is preed
They have no fear of Christ, Who shall judge every deed
He Who gives man the breath for his life to proceed
He alone, in strict justice, shall perfectly meed
He Who casts into hell, by His Word, whence decreed
He Whose anger, and fury, and wrath shall exceed
All the strength of His creatures, who must there ever dreed
He Who mocks, in derision, all the damned as they plead
He Who laughs as they weep and they wail to be freed
He Who kindles the fire that shall burn every weed
Reprobate beings shall become as a glede
The bread of the leaven He shall thoroughly knead
He Who bled as they jeered shall then jeer as they bleed
When He smites with His iron they'll remember the reed
They'll remember His cup, that accursed Ganymede
He forsaken of God that the veil should be screed
He Who endured that redemption succeed
He Who for sinners was made sin, to accede
For sin, and the Devil, and death to impede
The powers of darkness were forced to recede
As did that legion of swine once stampede
When Jesus returns riding 'pon a white steed
Armies of angels and saints shall He lead
Open your ears and your eyes and take heed
Do not let your heart be a stone when you read
The Word became flesh, as the God-Head decreed
Son of God, Son of man, incorruptible Seed
A Savior for every sinner in need
Son of man, in the flesh, come to weep and to bleed
Son of God, Bread from heaven, to heal and to feed
Christ Jesus, the Son, that He might intercede
To reconcile God with the chosen to be freed
He Who the Son frees shall be free indeed
There is a weird language known as ENGLISH ,
not so weird , but better than gibberish .
But I have a question of singular and plural ,
just like the confusion between urban and rural .
If foot is feet and tooth-teeth ,
why isn't boot-beet and mood-meed ??
If louse is lice and mouse is mice ,
why isn't house-hice and spouse-spice ??
If man is men and woman is women ,
why isn't pan-pen and tan-ten ??
If chair is chairs and mare is mares ,
why isn't hair-hairs and air-airs ??
I do have many questions in my mind ,
and I know there will be a solution some time !!! :p
Sterilize the enterprise...
Pro-rate your eloquence,
state sorrowfully,
then engage-
every page,
wondrous rapturous,
bashful captures,
slanty' cases and raging races...
Be hotter than road modern!
Beget the racers in the Stallium!
I am raving the major,
they take away the meed and complacent-
I am the smasher and head Caser!
Take me to the ancient hollow that was never endangered!
That precious life in beautiful consonance
Where feelings and life are constant
The Alpha’s, the Omega’s children ingress into unity
We, meek, abased on our knees for his glory
With musical inflections and modulations
Bestowing him with praise
He has presented us with his overlay
Successfully, we have overcome the ill ones temptations
No longer having to fight to deny
The serpent’s fabricated meed
Here we graze the crown of thorns
There we sing a sweet, euphonious hymn
And devour our Lord’s fruit from the Tree of Life
Silver spoons sit at evening diner tables
Forks and knives acompany these lonesome
Silver Spoons.
No one orders soup, but instead a large steak,
with mashed potatoes and gravy, with steamed vegetables.
The fork and knife are put to good use,
As the silver spoon sits there and watches,
As grimy hands, man handle the knife and fork
violently cutting away at the red meat.
Silver Spoons smile, thanking they aren't used
for steaks and mashed potatoes.
But silver spoons meed to be used too.
Waiting for one day, during lunch rush
for someone to come in and sit and ask,
"What is the special for soups today?"
Silver spoons brighten their eyes and smile,
but that time never comes.
Just another guy ordering steaks, or a hamburger and fries.
Poor silver spoons, not even used to stir their customer's coffee,
they use knives, instead of silver spoons.
Poor silver spoons, waiting for a beautiful woman to come in and order the soup.
Lately, it's been memories
and sleepless nights.
My bed, our bed;
these sheets smell like you.
I swear I hear your voice
at three am, and I'm
awake for another night.
I almost called you,
but I talked myself out of it.
Sometimes I have to remind
myself to breathe. "Just breathe."
I have to remind myself that
the world isn't over, and that
my shoulders have carried more
weight than that of the pain
you have caused me.
I can heal.
I meed to remember that
yesterday is gone, no longer
existent. I can't keep
dwelling on a past that
doesn't dwell on me.
I can do this.
Evil is a stubborn weed
People always plant its seed
Viscous are its deeds
On the innocent it feeds
A harmless germ in our mind
A thoughtless thought we can unwind
It can be a temptation to fault find
But once it clasps it is hard to unbind
Find your herbicide
Fumigate your inside
Where evil always resides
Before it spreads wide
Unthink the thoughts it breeds
Starve the seed with good deeds
Allow your harvest to succeed
And love will be your meed
*Image of Bread Our Daily Dough Pixabay.
Our Daily Bread
The rooster neck stretched while crowing
wakes unknowing
rubbing their eyes
mid-raised gold skies.
The fields being harvested all-day
work and no pay
hourly naught here
own free and clear.
Morning, noon, till the setting sun
mom's work ne'er done
our meed we're awed
by Father God.
2021 July 24
*2nd Place*
12 Lines In Rhyme
~~Joseph May: Judged 2021 July 26
‘Tis a tingle at the tips of thy lips where I shall plant a kiss,_
then slightly lick the curves and slopes of their mounds to partake _
of the taste of treachery that lingers with thee still.
Allow me to brush mine ears across the thoughts of thine mind to perceive the envy ‘twas present all this time.
Embrace me as I embrace thee endearingly in mine arms. Hold me tightly mine longtime friend. Let me inhale the girth of thee and to behold the winds afoul! Harsh, sulfuric humiliating hints of hatred and disdain. Those that envelopes thy very being, encompasses thy frame_ blow the breeze of ill repute. An odor I once would argue upon and tirelessly dispute.
How be it, that thee cometh unto me as mine friend? Whereby thee_
drinketh mine wine, lavish mine liquors, and upon mine food ye dine.
Yet ye stir the depths of mine soul undivine to devour the very heart_
of me for thy personal selfishness and greed. O woe to Ye, that taketh unto_
thyself all that I possess: the lowly and the best, thus remains my mortal_
coil in spiritual unrest. Hark! This unwarranted union has run amok, bearing no merit and no meed!
Doth not I matter in the course of life among the living? Hath mine breath_
blown in vain such as the likes of one never to be known again? What say ye of mine works, and toil I have bore unto thee in willful pain; and, toward the true liberty of hope and faith of a lifelong friend to gain.
In truth, the thought of us today in this profane present time bears the horror of its’ heinous humor. For I laugh not into the path of peril nor do I stand before thee as one proud. In my somber state of dismay, I am bewildered and grieved to no relief. Mine eyes shine gray as grief to know that mine friends are close but mine enemies are closer.
Now to be an unwilful acknowledgment, or better still an undeniable belief.
***01192021 Niyna***
You've remained a particularly fantastic mother to me.
Adequately training, I wouldn't have gotten gloomy
As follows, I'm keeping in touch with you today.
I humbly beg that God would lavishly meed you all the way.
Throughout the long term, I've seen delight and sorrow.
You were the main one to watch him grow.
Also, presently I'm a man you've raised.
Be that as it may, more often than not, you liaised.
My mother led me to His Way, and I am proud.
Without your help, I'd be lost in the crowd.
But you lead me to this point in my life.
Can seek boldness after strife.
The capacity to withstand any close-to-home attack.
That my enemies toss at me, and I may lack.
Thus it is with you, 'the world's best mother.'
I'll never forget you when you detonate your bawler.
Mother Mother, I'm intrigued about your wonder.
Either a woman or a divinely sent savior.
Her emotions run in her as deep as a river.
A smooth and calm lady is my mother.
Written: September 16, 2021
''M'' Contest, New Poems Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Lugubrious blue mood skies funereal and morose shed raindrops,
they unleash tableau vivant torrent’s wet tranche,
blessing, bane or boon from vault of heaven,
damp pearl blob bewitching moisture mellow morph form,
the stuff of less than benign grumpy weather grouch,
whose plight infuses yen for sun-drenched bliss,
haven of the ultra-violet swathe enthusiast,
for others raindrops are a liquid gem relish firmament bequeathed,
to whet voracious craving of nascent pastures,
whose gaunt green blade emaciating stillborn,
that aqueous honey to hue-blazed floral garden in situ bloomers,
who swallow cloudburst drizzle meed in muted slurps,
droplet streak and spiral bubble patten on top hung awning window,
empyrean tear beads that roof top tap dance ritual,
so tantalising to the awestruck spellbound eardrum,
or impromptu downward dribbles on romantic saunterers,
prompting boisterous laughter as they flaunt their dome transparent chromium truss umbrella,
those enraptured red-blooded refugees beneath tilting gust spun bumbershoot,
as mud splatter cherry cheek urchins shriek,
amid the spray and splash globules at agile finger tips
Can the black live
without the white ...?
May the sun rise
no morning ...
The cock sound
without singing ...
The rose sprlackout
without button ...
Can color decorate
without tone...
Laughter be smile
without mourning ...
The pain live
without consolation ...
A star burns without
without heating ...
The beast his brother
fear...
The couple live together
without mating ...
The horse without
hungry horse ...
May death
die...
Can the poetry
poet itself ...
Without meed of
a poet ...
life alone
live...
be welcome
without
come ...
One can be joyful
alone...
Can youl livei without
me,
and me without
you...?
*Image of Horses Nature by Pixabay.
Some Paradise Where Horses Go
"Somewhere, somewhere in time's own space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some paradise where horses go"
~~by Stanley Harrison
Where linger they midst verdant green,
Brung more to this a simple scene,
Placate the calm as horses still,
A light breeze whisk a daffodil,
They frolic and roam when they need,
Rivers and greenfield be their meed,
Tameless breed in their happy realm,
Where their faithful kind steer their helm,
Grazing the countries hills and vales,
An opened book for living tales,
In posing splendor statuesque,
Trail thoughts endeavor picturesque,
Calls of horses in nature pause,
Within its wake of emptied stalls,
Romp free and wild in blithe courses,
A paradise for all horses.
2020 March 07
*3rd Place*
Some Paradise Where Horses Go
~~Michelle Faulkner: Judged 2020 April 20
Written: April 3rd 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How I venerate you, O Lord
In your lens, lenity and levity loom
as a benign breeze
Stars doth glitter in a prolific night sky
Their radiance is a celestial litter
guiding wayward souls to shine
When people slumber, embrace
They heed no calls.
Even gates sealed by nobility
won't disrupt their serene sleepiness
yet I embrace your extol in solitude
In an epoch where time stretches
No flame flickers with fervor
as I wassail on Ambrosian Amber
amorist aflame by zeal and dazes
I spy on myself with an unequivocal shield
Observing an abundance of stars in motion
With clouds skating kindly, hide-and-seek
Through a sky smeared with ink
It's well past midnight
My knees start to quake and aquiver
I had eagerly awaited the moment.
Beneath clay of life
Amidst challenges, beleaguer
I'm tripping and fumbling from a perch
Oh, what a sight...
I fall from my pedestal
Now diminished to creeping and crawling
Our separation has been long
and crave your arcane embrace
It's been ages since
I first revered your ariose divinity
I will never perish asunder.
I grasp your blithely unfathomable lens
I am witnessing the blossoming of canorous love
while I am tangled in its throes
My clangor corpulent return is obvious
after desultory crestfallen
I grapple in agony, seeking mercy
Despite my anguish, I felt forlorn
in need of your diaphanous meed
But you never let me be lonesome
Constantly providing an unwavering glow.
Dulcet shrine dances
A hundred billion mirrors
Elysian pin-sized effusive
Dazzles with an ephemeral glow
Rising in an esoteric mirror
Fastidious gossamer glimmers
Of the divine inveigle
Until you bear them in
How will you realize?
Who resides there?
Elixir lyrics by masters
Churning my impalpable blood
Into jaunt juicy ambrosia.
You grasp my languid state
And celebrate
Wait till I dissolve
Into loquacious nectar
then will drink and maunder
a nebulous nexus was around?
why ever you are
your our star
we miss you
meed you too
we're all alone
please put our mind
at ease
DADDY COME HOME