Best Meting Poems
Justice for All
time marches on
reality's fire consumes—
dreams go up in smoke
Dishonest weights, deceptive scales forsake
as chains of injustice rake the flesh
of the preyed-upon bleeding, amid wild
wolves feeding, soft sheep bleating,
protestor's pleading, jurisdictions cheating,
cajoling, wheedling, injustice repeating—
jurisprudence at the confluence
of affluence and influence
~undocumented lies exhumed
unmitigated truth entombed~
They have their thumb on the scale! We
have sussed every detail on the field of
debris, some so fiercely taking a knee,
others shot trying to flee! "I can't breathe,"
"I don't care!" Why don't they care?
Of what justice is meting beware!
One higher than the highest is watching,
waiting to signal the one riding to conquer
and complete his conquest. What's the true
future view? What more can we do
before we become past tense?
tragedies worldwide
flooding my senses daily—
fill my bag of tears
November 5, 2020
EoW (9) Conflict
Brian Strand, sponsor
RUNAWAY TRAIN
A runaway train a life full of pain
Running avoiding the hurt
Getting away with lies, dancing in the rain
Treating everyone like dirt
Call me insane
I am my on freak on my runaway train
Running like the gingerbread man
Running as fast as I can
Catch me now if you can
Abandoning every life plan
Removing the ones in my life I cannot stand
Finding myself in Rome
How the Hell did i end up in another land
Take me French men by the hand
Sent me back with the runaway brand
Trust me it is no joy to feel like a toy
Runaway train has been my only joy
Leaving everything behind
Meting myself as a homeless in every cargo
Runaway train in my on matchbox
Runaway train lighting up the flames
Runaway train my life full of speed
Running avoiding my hearts need
Tracking me down and you'll find me in my own
( Soul Asylum) lost in a ( Runaway Train)
********A FUN SPROUT
My runaway train has ended
, everyone joined, jumped in my cargo
My runaway train all the supers mended
Waiting on them who joined my Wells Fargo
Thank you everyone for closing the contest,
In less than 24 hrs. Did not expect that.
Being my first contest and all,
I looked for one thing i needed to see.
A different point of view Of what I wrote above
SKAT
A vengeful eye for an eye
but mind you, to avenge yourself
ain't easy as apple pie
Indeed a punch for a punch
or invite your foe
for a delicious
malicious lunch
to dish out nasty retribution,
yet revenge is a dish
best served cold!
But a tooth for a tooth
will it actually soothe?
A horrid scowl for an irate pout
you scream coz she did shout!
Ah, that biting desire for sweet revenge
On the mind it can bitterly scavenge!
Sweet it might seem, sweet at first feel
but it's really more sour than an orange peel.
Then there's the danger of meting out in excess
There's a need to don self-control's harness.
One may try to spread retaliation evenly
on the slice of his arch enemy
Rat-a-tat tat on his door
for some payback tit for tat?
To chuck out all plots and thoughts of seething revenge
poses for man at times the greatest challenge.
Is it then so natural for this human brat
to cherish and relish a tit for tat?
But if so many of your chores complain of your negligence
you might as well put off too, all desire for vengeance.
Any wish for poetic justice, spit it out in poetry
Harbor no yearnings for getting even
except maybe in virtual reality.
Ah, alas as Jesus's humble way to offer the other cheek
is for ordinary man perhaps a task too docile and meek.
Almost always, as additional allurements arrive, ask as a Being...
By better borne behests become best Causes ?
Can causes create concise concepts Diligently ?
Do doers do decidedly dumb doldrums Ever ?
Each eek echoes egotistical efforts enduring Familiarity...
Faith fathers forgiveness for flaunting fabled Gifts.
Gasps give great grief, growing gruesome Hatreds...
Hasn't humanity had hurt hearts hung Innocently ?
Is insistence in increasing irritation inevitably incongruous Justice ?
Jimson jars...jitters...joggles...jolts...just jocose jurisprudence' Knell.
Kerfuffle kin, kickshaw kept ken, kindly knaves kneading Lamentations...
Leaving love's loaves, lordly lotharios, looking like lowlifes Made.
Marking more madmen mere moronic monsters meting mayhem Nearby.
Now, not never, nab needed nerves, nurture nasturtium near Openness !
Once only one, ordained our ostracism, outrage outdone on overwrought Plight.
Perhaps pride precludes passable patience, posing portentous prolapse Quickly !
Quiet quandaries, quarrelsome qualms, quivering quixotic quirks Resplendent...
Reaching relapse, revolving recidivism, reconstructed reflective reform Seen !
Searching secretive states, seemingly simple, sincere serenity sought Through...
Tender tears, touching together to total tympanic transformation Unjust.
Unique union...unimportant, unbending, unpopular, unless universal Veracity !
Verbose verbalism, vertical vignettes verify vital victory Won.
When written with wit...watershed words work wonderful Xerography !
Xyloid xylography, xeroxed xeno X, Yet...
Yesterday's youth, yowled yummy young yips Zanily !
Zeitgeist, zombie zealots zapping zonked zingers...Away !!
Once i lived with an uncle in a sleepy coastal town
who had a very beautiful house help from upcountry
now my male cousin Kiki desired to have a relationship
with our beautiful house help who was very lovely
One day Kiki arrives home alone he tries his advances
she flatly rejects him he then tries harder than its allowed
with no success.. later that night he is summoned by my uncle
Kiki tries best to defend himself....but is severely reprimanded
Now my Chieftain uncle is given to punishment and for Kiki
our Kiki is ordered to spend the night in the Chicken house..
not the European pet chickens these are real African chicken
complete with a rooster who scratches Kiki mercilessly
Come morning Kiki is full of scratches but he has learnt his lesson
he apologizes like his life depends on it and high tails out of the house
Safari my chieftains uncle we all love him but is know to be really hard
when it comes to meting out punishment and our Kiki had it coming
Lewis Nyaga
mambo ya pwani
Once upon a corner in the City,
An old porch of craftsmen days
Vine winding posts and bannisters and rockers,
Drawing one and all on their way.
Afternoons were busy with our mother,
Rocking, mending and meting out wisdom;
Children resting from lawn cartwheels,
The paper boy stopping for advice about courting.
Scents from the gentle boiling of beans
Blowing freely in the fresh spring air;
Shasta daisies wrapping its foundation,
Bermuda smelling fresh from mowing.
And
There was laughter and lemonade, and
Newspaper, movie magazines and song sheets.
Young marrieds’ visits – women stay at homes, then
Stars began twinkling at twilight,
Father his Chesterfield, mother rocking at his side,
Recounting their day, children gone inside,
About Mister This and Mrs. That,
Teasing and whispering undying love to each other,
Where have these gentle times gone?
The sign outside the monastery reads:
“Near this spot, karma
first entered the world.” -
beside it, a small slot in a wooden box
painted white, with “DONATIONS”
in red letters scrawled across the top.
The cobbled track between the stalls
& shops is both narrow & steep, a maze of
potholes & ruts, karma’s answer to ‘tourist traps’ -
a holy obstacle course for the pressed & dressed
& impeccably plain, coming & going outside
the money exchange, where dogs & beggars
compete with American Express in 15 languages,
& lunch is a handful of flies & stones
next to an old woman working her fan,
frowning over a brazier whose coals are eyes.
When they’ve discovered I’ve been to the edge,
to the village where karma originated,
they’ll want to know what it’s like,
so I’ll tell them: it’s the coldest, darkest place
I’ve ever seen, full of the meanest people
I’ve ever met, grasping for change.
Like all those other places where karma originated.
A memory of footprints, every trace of hand or hair,
at every corner a familiar smell, a fall from grace,
every beggar an answer, meting out an earned revenge.
All places are recognizable in time.
Outside the place where karma originated,
I ask someone if they’ll take my picture as a kind of
souvenir, something to see, evidence I was here, or
there, or anywhere. They hold my camera upside-down
as if to dare the logic from its cage.
No smile. No cheese.
The shutter shudders, the light burns in
& the smallest part of me escapes into the prison
through which we all must pass in order to be free.
Is your comeback a symbol of faith or vengeance
Let it be clear if to light or darkness you pay allegiance
Don't make men victims of ploys up your sleeves
Meting out on them wrath as thieves
Suffering for invested trust
Reaping from it the dividend of disgust
To whom much is given, much is required
Even that which is sought, solicited and acquired
For the fulfilling of desire comes with position
Propositions, dispositions clamouring for your decision
And the old stream of a mind must be stretched
To a lake from which nourishment is fetched
Ask yourself why some lead and others follow
Is it the bait of the lender on those who borrow?
Is it charisma, wit, oration and charm
Is it the strength to which weakness submits to avert harm
Is it a fixed ordination of a bloodline from the beginning
Is it learnable of its intent, design and meaning
Think of God who is continually believed and defied
Yet all life and breath have on him always relied
Patient that they'll freely yield to Him without force
Ye must fashion your ways after this high course
For ye take a heavier cross than most men consider
So let the highest of character surpass the highest bidder
K. Muitherero.
Wait On God
(Verse 1)
Everybody want to do things at a pace
Thinking with this world
We can face,face it all alone
If you thought that
You're all the way wrong
How can you wake up
And only think about self
Ask yourself, where does that help come from,when you feel like you want to run
Sometime we can make our own life hard
It's just better to wait on God
(Chorus)
Wait on God,His timing is perfect
Wait on God,it's totally worth it
Wait on God,you have a choice
Don't let anyone but him be your voice
Our life doesn't have to be hard
If we just wait on God
(Verse2)
Rushing wanting things to go my way
Somehow I was losing my faith
Things were not working in my favor
I was quick wanted things now and later
But then I realized so meting greater
That with my problems
I would send them to heaven
And he'd solve them
Without any questions, without the judgement
He is so worthy
He doesn't think anything of it
He loves me dearly, he sees me clearly
I'm waiting on God ,hope you can hear me
(Chorus)
Wait on God,his timing is perfect
Wait on God,it's totally worth it
Wait on God , you have a choice
Don't let anyone other than him be your voice
Our life doesn't have to be hard
If you wait on God
(Bridge)
The timing couldn't be better
For you to get yourself together
It's not that hard
If you wait on God
The timing couldn't be better
For you to get yourself together
It's not that hard If you wait on God
(Chorus)
Wait in God, his timing is perfect
Wait on God,it's totally worth it
Wait on God,you have a choice
Don't let anyone other than him be your voice
Our life doesn't have to be hard If we just wait on God
Repeat until Chorus fades
Written by:Concettahardnett
6/26/2016
Though fear is an instinctive characteristic
It is implanted by some suckers, on the society
Giving birth to an intimidating practice; hoary
That has gripped the humanity since genesis.
Exploitation is the dearest offspring of fear
That has enslaved humankind down the ages
Unleashing a reign of trepidation repeatedly
Has no parallel in the record of civilization.
Fear has equipped its armoury with progeny
In the form of weapons; perilous and chilling
Foremost among them being the fear of god
With heaven, hell and Satan who join the list.
It has ever hushed the voice of the miserable
Subjugating them to harrowing sufferings
Meting out treatment inhuman nonchalantly
With no trace of remorse, even, occasionally.
Religion and its bye-product; superstition
Have ruled the roost since time prehistoric
With ignorance of masses to their support
Steal from mankind peace and progression.
My Christmas
To me Christmas is a Grand Celebration
irrespective of any religion,
world- wide accepted by every nation.
Exchange of warm wishes is prime.
Entertainment and heartiest Greeting
cheerful, joyful, beautiful meting
of friends, relatives, family and sibling
yearns to enjoy the festive time.
Happy birthday to Jesus, the Great Personality
I do not value Hinduism or Christianity.
By birth though Hindu, I honour only Humanity
the unique religion I like to follow.
Each year I decorate Christmas Tree.
I hang stars, jingle bells to swing free.
I invite my loved ones and make merry.
Bright candles are lighted and delighted to glow
12/24/15
What does Christmas mean to you Contest
Sponsor Matt caliri
/Blind meting. / Invisible touch. /
/The Sharp. / Voyager beyond the sea./
/Letters into the bottle, / in choppy waters. /
/Remembers, / Frames, /Cold spring. /
/Dreams framed/ in wind travels. /
The General is a bit of an authoritarian.
He says, Breathe! And you say, how much?
Twilight is much more chill; she just says, “See you ‘round!”
But then you’re bouncing along to a happy tune,
and that’s not so good when The Man is holding
a soldering iron in confined spaces.
So, the General, it is.
The Man spends all his time mapping and zapping,
meting out death to fireflies and moths
who are out past their bedtimes.
I think the OR doubles as a mosh pit;
there’s a large plexiglass shield over the huge monitor,
full of cracks. I’m guessing he’s an Auburn fan who
kept throwing instruments at the screens during the games.
And the room is like 56 degrees.
Likely, the General is not well endowed and wants to make
sure everyone else looks bad. Just to be sure, they
take a little more off the top.
It’s a strange experience.
But you can mess with them. I told ‘em,
“May the Lord bless you while I’m gone!”
They didn’t like that, double-padlocked the doors.
Then, the General says, “Okay, we’re ready now.”
“Now?” I ask. No, now.
I watch the plunger get short,
feel the chill in my forearm,
the rush of warm across my chest,
and I enter the floo network and re-appear back in my room,
wishing I could have gotten a well placed punch off at the General.
Day. Night.
The very two constants of a man’s life.
They we met and must leave behind.
They race each other in a constant relay
Silently telling how much time we have left.
It all begins on a bold tarmac line.
The point where we all hear the gun let go.
The origin of the rest eager steps.
Eyes fixed, fingers gripped.
So much pep planted on a helpless line.
With stubborn hunger we set forth.
Making sure we meet up with the many legs.
Meting covered distance with foreign units.
Makings turns we never planned for.
The goal post can really get glurry.
When placed with assorted team-players
It’s hard to recall what we really want
When choked with steps not our choice.
Day. Night.
The very two constants of a man’s life.
The fingers that counts the steps we have left.
Make sure the next step truly counts.
Keep running.
Jennifer
Shy,Caring,generous,outgoing,
Sister of Chris & Michelle,
Lover of animals,dancing,and all kinds of music,
Who feels happiest when hanging with friends,and family,
shy when meting new people,nervous in hospitals,
Who needs Saturdays nights,understanding,and a good car,
who gives lots of smiles,support,and advice,
who fears spiders,leaches,and dying of a broken heart,
Who would like to see racism stopped,usher in concert,and Child abuse stopped,
Who lives in an apartment over looking the down town Digby,for now,
Thibodeau.