Best Microscopes Poems
Bacteria, too small for human eyes
engage their fight for life within our midst,
so unaware of Earth's gigantic spies
with microscopes and slides, who co-exist.
And tiny fish, contained by walls of glass,
oblivious to all that thrives outside,
in worlds of colored sand and plastic grass
know not the ocean's roar or rhythmic tide.
Too, we the wisest creatures of life's sea,
who travel well the wonders of our home,
are blinded by the endless mystery
of space and time- horizons we can't roam.
What great dimension of the vast beyond
makes Earth a microscopic vagabond?
March 14, 2015
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon
Mile 4 Poetry Contest
"Aurora Spills"
Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields of stories
they wave her in
rippling time away
fingertips dance mesmerising
the stinging strangers
wrapped around her legs
treading water in deep
infested notions
the coolness of
irreverent nonchalance
romantic or not
pulls her under covers
like warm blankets
heavy comfort
calls the broken
floating towards
the shabby matrix
new gates of life open
mirrors crack like eggs
the vision reflects
both light and dark
demon and saint
their remnants
embers, still
in the coldness
of prickly gloaming
like glow worm glen
fireflies red and glowing
sparks ignite
a rapturous bushfire
from cinders
billy tea leaves overturned
empty cups read
the yolk of a heart
never lies
fried casually
by the over easy
in shallow pans
of poetry
under microscopes
of blithe mordant critique
minute shards of gold
are slowly sifted
from the flotsam dross
some wisdom found
in the muddy fertile mind
shooting up
from 6ft underground
like small green plants
growing under rocks
with centipedes and
the petulant poison of spiders
in pink reflection
insurgence blooms
war never waits
silently the Pandoras smile
understanding all and nothing
of a small life distended,
swelling love
for that which was stolen
where bursting broken blue weeds
undo frozen jewels
diamonds sharp for the cutting
shiny words spells of insanity
delicious moments
melting time swallowed
spoken without voice
listening to ghosts
scratching through walls
where life floods
from glass boxes
coffins of buried treasure
banished
kaleidoscope colours
overgrowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“The Lady in the Lake”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/IjX8xfZ7sg0
“Out of whose womb came the ice
And the hoary frost of heaven
Who hath gendered it
The waters are hid as with a stone
And the face of the deep is frozen”
LYRICS/ “The Lady in the Lake”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-lady-in-the-lake-lyrics
(This poem is political satire;
don't read if you think you may
be offended. No truth in any of it,
considered by many to be
tasteless -- Not meant to be taken
factually nor literally -- Sincerely, Joe)
New strain of Virus detected
just a minute ago! Predominately
in Democrat run cities and states:
Seems to be 3 trillion times more
infective. CDC is calling it the,
S.T.U.P.I.D. Variant. University Staffs
hard-hit! Early signs, loss of Sense-
of-Smell, Gullibility, and increased
fetish for Designer Masks. Best
detected by examination of Cancel
Cultures -- microscopes prohibited
per Fauci. The most vulnerable group
seems to be those who have already
had 4 doses and 2 boosters. To treat
Fauci recommends, 4 doses and 2 boosters
for everyone, preferably administered
as young as the womb to developing
fetuses by his personally trained
omnipotent physicians at Unplanning
Parenthood -- Biden and Pelosi
say, God Bless America!
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….?
,
Covid-19: A Silent Messenger of Lucifer!
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….?
,
MAGNIFICATION
------------------
Close up, the rare metal
shows me its greyish form:
no dots or dashes here.
A disappointment,
for I heard once a scientist say
that under microscopes
the dots and dashes seem to bleep
a Morse code that would save the world and more.
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without self-doubt.
There is no self there.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun
or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
As Stevens proved
the essential activity's
to imagine the world
then test it against the breeze.
What good is philosophy
without a confession
I sometimes hit
whenever angry
and can kill given
opportunity and permission.
My knowledge of enduring
seeds and periodic
elements is limited
by my impatience.
If I could stop
circle with a dot
breathing
perhaps then I would
understand myself. But
what is there to know about the self?
Long ago, according to Borges,
Shakespeare imposed
a self-imposed silence
on himself. He knew
what, that perfect acts,
accurate and factual,
actually requiring
microscopes and telescopes
for growing small and going far
take you to the very space a
gentle breeze and ridiculous bird
occupy at the end of the mind
at the end of your life.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
I NEEDED
“Boldness – If I choose to loiter in this day I will lose it, and tomorrow will be the same, and I will end up lamenting the lost days” -By Wayne Wyder.
I needed a person who would cook my [spoiled] goose when my train was about to derail and he would fix the shocks.
I needed a fellow who bothered to know that before the Italians could cover my feet I had cracked heels. I needed a fellow who will know the origin of all the scars on my body, I needed one who knew why I engaged the services of a bespoke tailor – that the main reason was because my body was shapeless at some point.
I needed a fellow who knew that “my brother is a reflection of me. I can’t fly if he is falling”. I needed the one who understood that when I was with him we were neither strangers nor club attendees, nor colleagues. I am saying I needed the one who knew that he is not my leader but my vein.
I needed the one who was willing to walk alongside me all the time.
I needed a fellow who lived beyond his feelings but knew that as a brother we would always carry each other’s microscopes in order to zoom our blood. I needed a fellow that knew that his emotions/feelings could not build both of us but could provide either of us with a tent.
I needed a fellow who had his pad when the other fellow was jettisoned by his own plane because he had allowed today to pose as yesterday forgetting that today cannot be tomorrow.
Yes, I mean I needed the one who also had a pad when the misnomer was introduced into the other fellow’s plane and fermented the other fellow’s gum trees thinking they were impressed trees. I mean the one who knew that we are both together in this and he allowed me to have his ear when we walked, I mean the one who knew to listen to reason.
In the 1800‘s
Looking out from a window down through an old oak tree
At flowers and skies, cloudy grey or sparkling blue,
Walking through the waving green grasses of the yard.
Mistress of words with an interior so deep,
Two thousand poems in the old leather trunk
Until her death, gently packed away.
Only 7 were published while she lived,
All anonymously.
Never wife nor mother, rare for those times
Yet, nature, love and death, their images and understanding
She placed in a few perfect lines.
Hearing the larks’ songs, science and religion
Modern thoughts in poems sent and rejected.
The Atlantic Monthly was backward;
Their editors so wrong.
Now I can’t pretend I fully comprehend
Her interior expressed sometimes
Too weighty for me. But the depth of those
I comprehend adds to
My hope that a life constrained
Whether by health or times
Is still filled with possibilities.
And so she said
“ If I can stop one heart from breaking;
I shall not live in vain.”
Though a mystic and transcendent,
With her practical humorous side this ends
“Faith is a fine invention
For gentlemen who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!"
This little Emily is my ode to thee.
Jared Pickett's The Ode Contest
How did we acquire the knowledge of getting food
following all protocols and procedures
of knowing when the Earth is in a fine mood
to give a handshake of bountiful harvest?
In search of knowledge and understanding
man has explored Nature, down to its hood
and due to his short comings, treated humanity unfairly and rude.
Knowing the mechanics of an existing phenomenon
makes one a happy and creative dude
but having no idea how it even existed
makes his understanding still bare and nude
Under a higher authority, we’re all nursed
be it a gentleman with the fine name-Jude
or matter in a non-stop pause
having no artery of sustenance like the wood
Life and existence, wisdom and health, He’s the source
Him- not even the microscopes can elude
He is existing, everlasting and much more than a force
He is no other than God and He is good.
Creator of color, creator of light,
You've given us both to shine day and night.
Your garden of flowers, all species of fish,
in all arrays of hues, what more could we wish?
Exquisite white snowflakes, volcanoes fire red,
Coral sandy beaches, new horizons to tread.
Your delicate mighty insects, we observe with geat awe,
In all shapes and sizes, they fly, creep and crawl.
Shiny fruits and veggies, succulant to the core,
and microscopes reveal stunning microbes galore.
Your artistry is prevalent in every single thing.
We thank you, Jehovah, to you praises we sing.
Spectacles of perceptions.
Yes, exactly in fact.
I'm quite skeptical.
Even if there exist recollections, seems
As if there were a mirage you see in an oasis.
But a mirage is NOTHING but an HALLUCINATION
IN THE SANDS.
YOU SEE life here does EXIST or do we only IMAGINE
OUR selves as living BEINGS.
Well, me? I'm only exactly a perceptive being.
AS WE ALL ARE TO SOME DEGREE.
It's my percept that we do EXIST, PLAINLY,
Plausible we do this eventually to persist.
Representing the human race.
With this REPRESENTATION comes amazement
With the ideation of how FAR WE HAVE COME.
This is SENSATIONAL QUESTIONING.
Do we truly exist as we think, we ponder and
Replicate? Then amuse one another with QUIZZICAL AND
Qualifying discoveries. So let's rethink this. We claim to
Be human BEINGS.
WITH QUESTIONING EXPLANATIONS about our own
Existence and tendencies.
We need to feel we need to breathe, simply. We need to
Breed. We have stolen natural substances to be deciphered
In LABORATORIES. as if we're thinking we have this GOD
Given AUTHORITY and we are who we are. We are worthy
To conduct such trials. We are worthy, with CUNNING
SMILES.
We are worthy BUT..... we are specks in the GALAXIES AND
BENEATH THE MICROSCOPES OF GODS.
A philosopher once told me that love
cannot be understood in a lab; a human heart
cannot be cut open, so as to remove love for weight
or size measurements, or even knowing its color.
It is at that moment that I decided to make my heart
a living lab; a lab with no microscopes, test-tubes
or white-coats. I wanted to investigate what love
really is, with my own rules.
Heartbreaks, ecstasy, sadness, and thrill became
the elements to use to see how love reacted to them; I had
a chance to do “emotional fusion” with strangers and familiar
people.
After this sanity-damned experiment,
the findings were as insane as a shell floating in an aquarium.
The image of love seemed like mixing sugar and salt
together, to make a cup of tea!
Can you draw a line so straight
That microscopes cannot debate
How perfectly you've drawn a line
Only your mind ever creates?
Would you rather have to cope
With stars that shine in perfect files?
At such a sight I would but mope,
And with a rampant star elope.
Words like broken shards of glass
Disseminate into the air
And fall with all their wordy gloss
Into my injured hand with care.
I'd rather by the odds be shunned
Than afterwards rummage the ground
For perfect pieces, leaving down
The beautiful defective ones.
No human is symmetrical,
No paintings fair except the frauds.
Dreams would fade were clouds not fickle.
Laud the skies with lightning flawed.
Pages perfect, you would think,
Are bland and vapid without ink;
Without the spots to paint a life
And plant a tree with blemished leaf.
Music's not a single sound
That goes forever; pure, profound.
A shift in pitch when scales ascend,
Would make it rich and pertinent.
If perfection were divine,
It would uphold no earthly frame.
Its structure would elude the mind
With an illusion of its fame
That would suffice to keep us sane.
As they leave,
They leave for us
Calabash full of sorrow and agony
They leave for men a plate of frustration
And desperation.
As they leave
They leave for women nothing
But cups of tears and fears
As they leave
They leave for old ones a basket
Full of fruits of ultimate death and shame
As they leave
They leave for workers a big bowl
Of empty promises, unpaid salaries
And incessant strike actions
As they leave
They leave for students a stabbed
And crippled students’ union,
Ramshackle and “Renopainted”
Halls of Residence
As they leave
They leave for our generation a loss compass
From which we can find and rediscover our
Moral values, valuable culture
Instincts of deliberative governance and
Leadership cum administrative acumen
As it is
We are living with fear of gbu-a-gbu-a
Of daylight gunshot of the emboldened to
Extort, encouraged to maim and induced to kill
Ultra-fascists campus cult groups commissioned
To crush all seeming oppositions
As is it
We are living with:-
Biochemists without reagents
Microbiologists without modern microscopes
Linguists without modern language laboratory
Computer students without
Being opportune to hold a mouse
Physiologists without bloodbank.
As it is
We are living with
Dike archaic books and non books materials
Students and staff basking in the euphoria
Of stone age and ancient facilities.
As it is
We are living in a garden that detest truth
Genuine intellectualism, dissent views and
Contrary opinions but rather nourishes in
Multi-colour ignorance, white lies,
Ever green concocted disortions,
Oceanic blu-i-sh sycophancy and reddish intolerance
Which is only reminiscences of the black jackboot
Days of the Abacha junta.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am