Best Messenger Poems
The Messenger
I watched the clouds of afternoon
Gather tempest force;
Now, from a cozy shelter
View October's raging storm;
Watching through rain washed windows
Golden oak trees quake
While from their summered branches
Autumn treasures take.
Drops of glistening rain fall
From the clouds above
When darkening skies of eventide
Hurry bust'ling crowds;
Through storm winds call they homeward rush,
Not hearing autumn sing,
They search the night for quiet havens,
Shelter from the rain.
Children run along the street
Among the fallen leaves
Gathering autumn's artistry
Riding on the breeze;
The wind blows cold, time's messenger,
Of dark days yet to come -
Taking from the land its harvest
Making way for the ice blue sun.
Have published nine chapbooks of my poetry. The Messenger is one of the poems published in a chapbook titled Rhythms and Rhymes - Award Winning Writings.
All of the poems included in Rhythms and Rhymes have won a contest or an award.
My books are available through my website - www.samkservantsheart.com, or through me. That is an amazingly self serving piece of information but I thought I would include it.
One of the first to land, it took me by surprise
because bright sunrays glowed behind an ashen cloud.
Upon the glass-topped table, right before my eyes
this tiny pearl of wonder came to me, avowed
its army, made of millions, soon would override,
to smother every garden, grassland, bushes, trees.
It warned me to seek shelter, quickly run inside
before the fast, relentless force drove in to seize.
Its shiny dome reflected darkness from the sky.
How long had it been falling till it landed here?
The first to make it through, the siege to verify,
my messenger, a raindrop, braved the atmosphere
and warned me to take cover, quickly run and hide,
'fore army, made of millions, drowned the countryside.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: The Raindrop
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 11/25/2018
Sonnet, written in Iambic Hexameter
12 syllables, 6 feet per line
I saw a little Cardinal
setting in a tree.
I said to that little red bird
"Why have you come to me?"
He flew a little closer
and let out a great big "chirp"!
I'm a messenger sent from heaven
and from those who have passed on.
I hope this brings you blessings
and great peace in your heart
because,God heard your grieving prayer
and your loved one is at rest.
At that very moment
my heart was at peace.
Because, God sent this little bird
in my time of need.
Now if you see a Cardinal
listen closely to his song.
It might be the answer to your prayer
sent by the Lord above.
Patradoot or The Messenger29 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
These young boys and girls, were brought up,
By their parents, with great love and affection,
Now they are mad, in love for their motherland,
To show the splendors of their youthful energy.
They are ready even to sacrifice their heads,
What to say of body pains and tortures inflicted on them,
By seeing such fearlessness and energy of their youth,
Even the enemy gets ashamed of, dear letter.
Triloki was one of these young boys,
Who happily took bullets on his chest, dear letter,
And kept on moving ahead without withdrawing,
Keeping the dignity of our nation and Satyagraha.
DESCRIPTION OF MY CITY ALLAHABAD
You will find my beautiful city Allahabad,*
In an ecstasy and full of rapture, flowing in it’s air,
When you will move on its roads and streets,
Along with the Postman, dear letter.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 12th August 2010 to continue in 30
Clarifications:
* Allahabad Also know as Prayag or Triveni is the most ancient city
of India, where river Ganga and Yamuna now meets at
the holy place called Sangam.
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
Will always treasure
White silken plumes gentles touch
Take upon oneself
Day by day lifeblood’s beacon
Doves ministering spirit
By eve roper 11/07/2014
welcoming songbird beckons sun
berry bright singer on snowy landscape
tragedy’s summer sting leaves me undone
warm tears still fall on autumn leaves
till winter shrugs its cold shoulder
ushers isolation as my somber heart grieves
return, wee harbinger of spirit connection
your engaging trill evokes smiles
and his voice fills me with recollection
oh, cardinal, turn your songs to love’s ember
convey my gratitude to a love that passed
let your melody gently whisper, “remember”
*February 13, 2019
*Many believe that a red cardinal sighting is a sign that a spirit seeks to connect. Cardinals also symbolize renewal of spirit within ourselves.
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,
I found him standing in the street
With no place to lay his head
I offered him a humble place to stay
And this is what he said
"The day of reckoning, is soon at hand
Beware of the things to come
A false prophet will soon appear
And will be worshiped by some"
"Turn not unto, your own understanding
But go the way of the cross
For those who do not heed my warning
Are doomed to forever be lost"
"Though I am but a messenger
Sent from Him on high
Repent this day your wicked ways
For the end of time grows nigh"
With these words, he disappeared
I know not where he went
But I know for sure, his words are true
This messenger that Heaven sent
When all my days have faded
Into my children's memory,
May they recall I loved the Lord
And tried his messenger to be.
Let them remember words I said
To guide them safely on their way.
Please give me words of wisdom Lord,
That will survive beyond my day,
Words that will a beacon be
For loved ones coming after me.
To a Certain Poet
by Frank Daub
Your modesty -- regarding talent? BECOMING to your SOUL.
The decision to embrace this thought? Belies your role –
As MESSENGER.
Long ago you took the mission
To tell beauty in words and lines.
Now time has blurred your vision.
Now doubt has wormed your mind.
Think about the adulation –
Deny those words are true!
It is you might stop creation –
It is you must see it through!
Anyone who is a poet, these days
Seems very sensitive and scares easily away
They might seem to have some errors some say
But maybe they were to be created that way
So be very careful, for whatever you say
For the poet is human and can easily sway
In any direction they can go to each day
Put it on the end of a pen to quietly say
If you could do better, would you be talking that way?
And you are the one being scared easily away
To find what is written maybe about you today
And anyone who is a poet, these days
May seem to have found your errors some say
but then maybe you were created that way
And soon in the end no words anymore too play
All the words we have in our minds go silent today
They will all disappear in the end and be taken away
Who was writing out our pain, were frightened some say
And now everyone wonders why no more poets today
Patradoot or The Messenger 39 /50
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
When in the nectar pond of her mouth,
My kiss use to take breathe, dear,
Even the pride of the beauties of heaven,
Seems faded before her charms, dear letter
When during her extreme laughs and passions,
The rows of her pearl like teeth appeared,
They use to wave like necklace of pearl,
In the red shines of her lovely lips, dear letter.
The round mark of her forehead used to disappear,
Whenever her face shined with luster dear,
Also during our love making,
When pride ever came in her mind, dear letter.
Such lovely face, of the moonfaced my beloved,
You would find without a smile dear letter,
The face that never bent in self respect,
You will find plight full, dear letter.
Her limbs which she used to keep covered,
With the softness and colors of beautiful silk sarees,
You would find them covered now with,
Coarse cotton Khadi colorless sarees, dear letter.
Seeing her motherland in miseries,
And her people unfed and uncovered,
She must be wearing that coarse clothes,
On her tender body in sympathy of her people,
Ravindra
Kanpur India 013th Sept 2010 continues in 40
Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
Alas there is no more confusion,
finally found my last conclusion.
Expect me as if Jesus will return,
from a ghost to a realm of concern.
Your dreams are portals like doors,
welcoming spirits into hasten wars.
Leaving the thoughts without trust,
keeping your fears in much disgust.
And though you sought no consequence,
deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence.
Awaiting in your nightmare of screams,
enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.
The bard’s tale begins here, without remedy,
This telling of here is, there is, and tomorrow is,
Predestined works of meticulous perception,
A prophetic hunter searching inside the anecdotal,
Over uncountable eons for his vague lucidity,
An eremitic nomad perceiving his journeys path,
Being sculpted and painted upon times medium,
Recurrently seduced by the thirst of obligation,
Into the pinnacle of death’s unabated progression,
Quintessential holy man distorted by august lunacy,
Avant-garde purpose and innate coolness,
A prophet of constant deviating certainty,
An amalgam of the inevitable impetus of here and then,
Derived from the presage of opportunity,
Distinguished by fate to eternally struggle,
As a combatant upon the fields of our history,
Revered triumphancy amongst pain ridden turmoil,
Swathed in esteem and overwhelming omnipotence,
The divine sojourner moves ever forward to eternity,
Polished in the ineffable glow of foresight,
He continues down the pathway to do his biddings
Patradoot The Messenger 44/
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
How he sleeps, O dear letter without even a cot and bed
Resting on a rough blanket, lying on the floor, and
Who pats him, when he faces such tortures of the Jail life?
When sleeps also does not come.
He must be eating there, the tasteless dry foods of Jail,
That too, without ever getting a chance to hear,
The affectionate words, which makes a food,
More delicious or tasty, when it comes from your love ones.
O, please tell this also to me, dear letter,
Does my husband ever remember his life companion and
Does his eye ever get wet, while remembering,
His dear wife, who is so much away from him.
What message my dear husband has sent?
Through you, O’ sweetest of all dear letter,
What teachings, he has sent through you?
To tell his loving wife, please tell me, O dear letter.
Do not think an Indian woman,
To be a weaker sex only, dear letter,
She may sacrifices her life, for the one,
Whom she makes her life partner, dear letter.
Ravindra to continue in 45..
Kanpur India 06th January 2011
Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.