Best National Poems
ghost, river, shiver, gaze, tender, cold
Ghost River
Ghost river runs without a shrink.
Little known in polite circles.
With cupped hands, the shameless down drink.
Suspended place, not inked in journals.
A decisive shiver up spine.
Why’d a boat wait at foggy shore?
He’d smiled at me, as we’d cheered wine.
Trepidation ripe in my core.
His leather gaze; something so strong.
It’s cold in this romantic boat.
The oars sluice in mud; bid ‘so long.’
This life offers me an antidote.
Awful the scented rose petals,
so inky ebonic afloat.
Tender whispers amidst nettles
of thorns piercing my inner throat.
Before I thought to scream, the hosts
in revelry asked me to join.
“Get out of the boat…” (drown, they coax)
Madness! Their eyes’ covered with coins.
My eyes flutter open at once.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s him.
I’ve been warned; palpitations in flux.
Satan’s given a pseudonym.
I shake off my trepidation,
it’s only a dream; excited.
Suddenly - a celebration.
Down in the waters, invited.
No longer a dream, a nightmare.
I’d never awaken…no prayer.
Salutations to Tiranga (Indian National Flag)
Mother India was freed from the British shackles...
To tyranny we bid adieu, new freedom welcomed!
'Tiranga' with due honour, replaced the 'Union jack'
Fluttered in the blue sky in the glory of victory!
Orchestra of happy moods had finally arrived,
Calling for celebrations with full pomp and joy!
Our National Anthem sung and Trumphets blown
All Indians joined festivity forgetting all woes!
Adding wings to this happiness,the Tricolour fluttered!!
Breeze of bloodbath and fetters all disappeared
Flew with resplendence this khadi splendour!
Three stripes horizontal with a central wheel
Top is the saffron for selflessness and valour,
Also marks vibrant hue of Ego absolution!
White in the middle stands for peace and purity
Also Knowledge and honesty attribute to it
The dark green in the third stripe is for faith and fertility,
Happiness and prosperity for a greener globe!
The wheel of dharma adopted from the Lion capital,
That once sung heroism of Asoka, the Emperor!
In navy blue is this wheel placed in the centre,
Progress it represents with spokes twenty-four
Ignites a spark of deep patriotism as it flutters
Wrapped around cadaver of the martyrs of this mother
Glory to Tiranga, Glory to the Nation,
World's largest democracy salutes this symbol
Let our flag soar high and keep our spirits boosted
Long live Tiranga till the sky is above!
For the contest: The State/ Country Flag - sponsored by: Judy Konos
By: Anulaxmi Nayak,
Country: India
Flag: TIRANGA - Indian National Flag
date: 08/08/2015
THEME: Salutations and admiration to our national symbol!
Today I present an old poem, written at least a decade before "Doubts". What this poem lacks in poetic format, and style, it reaps in sentiment.
Enjoy:
the Girl Who Ate the National Park
I was picking apples, from polystyrene
boxes, when she held aloft a spiky
green football and her excited voice
asked, “What do you call this?”
She named it durian. I didn’t know,
and pulled a lettuce from its packing.
Harvested multigrain rolls
from bakery bins, and hunted
sandwich ham from fridges.
I laid our picnic mat down
amongst market gardens, and planted myself
to grow in her company. Uncorked
a shiraz in a vineyard, and savoured
her smile. Pulled an apricot from the cooler,
in an orchard, and hungrily
consumed her words.
She took to the park's paths
like shopping aisles. Selecting ingredients
for a salad from green foliage shelves.
She chose a duck dish
as it flew above us, and decided on a fish,
as we watched it swim
beneath the waterfall.
Then as we left, she created a desert
from the trees.
Her touch stopped me. Rooted
me to the spot, where we ravenously
embraced. Our feelings blossoming
around us. Forming a canopy
which we took shelter under,
and bore fruit, that we ate together.
Our appetites sated.
Crater Lake
Looking down high above in sunny skies
A view through aircraft window down below...
A sublime scene of beauty cast in eyes
Of a crater lake, crowned by pristine snow.
The island in its center brought such cheer,
A picture postcard flocked with evergreens,
With a sense of serenity so near
In glory of this lake and what she means.
The deep azure of water shined like glass,
I will never forget our stunning view.
Enchantment stole my heart which came to pass
I vowed to visit there one day with you.
God's hideaway in mountainous terrain,
A sacred sight retained within my brain.
1-13-22 rev.
~Second Place~
Winter Wonders Within Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
*Photo from Wikipedia by WolfmanSF
1-3-19
Sleeping Volcano Poetry Contest~3rd Place~
Sponsor Eve Roper
He says he saw "(this nation's)
Identity sold and robbed by immigration..."
And I remember
My first day teaching at the border school
First one there that August morning
Cows were grazing on the lawn
I walked into the office to report them
and the secretary laughed, "They're Hector's.
They sneak over the border sometimes.
He's on his way to get them."
The crossing was two blocks away
There was a hole in the fence
Where all the kids from Mexico
Who attended school in America, crossed
Customs and border patrol agents knew them
AND watched them come and go
Safely
It really was an open border then
And no one felt their identity was threatened
America was built on the backs of immigrants
And those who came in chains
They worked for pennies and nothing at all
While white culture treated them as inferiors
Are we losing our identity as white supremacists
Because people of nonwhite culture refuse to be our inferiors
GOOD
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."
Declaration of Independence (if you read)
People coming to America to live free and pursue their happiness
Robs our identity
Really?
People coming to America to live free and pursue their dreams
IS our identity
not January 6 insurrectionists
not election deniers
not voting rights suppressors
NOT white supremacists
who are destructive to others' lives, liberty, and their happiness
My duty as a TRUE American Patriot is to call you out
You threaten the very principles upon which this nation stands
And like it or not, we will confront you, and block your way
This great country is made of great people,
not narrow minded _____
(Whatever fits)
I'm out
No mind was ever meant to bear
That torment, pain and sorrow.
In that cacophony of hell,
Their lives forged our tomorrow.
Called to duty, through their service,
Through their sacrifice and loss,
The foundations for our future
Were fashioned from their cross.
Far beyond the bounds of nature
Their mortal frames were tested
In bloodied, flea ridden trenches
Their fractured bodies rested.
Those bodies now, in foreign lands
Beneath fields of marble crosses
Bear testament to sacrifice
And countless wartime losses.
May future generations
That break upon the shore,
Not forget the pains they suffered
Nor the mental scars of war.
Look upon the scarlet poppy,
See the blood amongst the wheat
Know the quantum of their sacrifice
Times passage won’t deplete
To those that gave their future
We all owe this National Debt
The terms are very simple
Just that we must not forget.
.
Travel with me to a nature lover's dream
Denali's grandeur is the unfolding theme
Expansive vistas paint a wondrous scene
Snow covered peaks look quite so pristine.
Morning sun blushes atop gray clouds
Majestic sights gratify excited crowds
Glaciers glow upon a distant mountain range
Mesmerizing hues color changing landscape.
Butterflies roam flowers pink and yellow
Moths feasting on nectars look so mellow
Birch trees so tall, they swing with the wind
Aspen tree sings with its leaves shiny green.
Red squirrels run from trees to leap
White sheeps graze on ranges so steep
Moose and grizzly bear a sight must see
A golden eagle flies high above the trees.
Mountaineers climb soaring mountain peaks
Hiking, biking, camping is what visitors seek
Memories made here will never depart
A visit to the park will engrave your heart.
August 17, 2017
Placed 3rd: Strand choice Z contest by Brian Strand
The Illuminati are a con,
It is how they have won,
From the formation of the nation that they sit upon
While we are stuck taking our medication
And dealing with the manipulation,
We are avoiding the confrontation
To stand up and show some dedication.
They’ve created a world full of discrimination
That only causes more and more separation,
But this generation will stand by its reputation
To lead our civilization through an innovation
And create a restoration, not from imagination
But from the motivation and a transformation
So that we may eliminate this radiation.
We all must make a declaration.
Let us make it our obligation
To no longer feel this isolation.
Enough with the fake and the misinterpretation.
It all begins with our education and our communication
To set forth a new foundation made from the right information,
And have the consideration to give an explanation
To those who continue their observation.
We cannot have any hesitation,
Because that is what has created this starvation and the humiliation.
This deceleration from a dictation.
An obliteration of an abomination.
The desperation for annihilation.
A devastation from the extermination.
The contemplation of a suicidal fascination.
Why must we go through an evaluation of association?
Or an examination just for participation?
So this is my preparation to the administration.
My determination to the legislation.
To end this classification and begin a new implementation.
To allow the immigration of those stuck in a migration,
And give them the compensation for their triumphant demonstration,
Of their exploration and their adaptation,
And give others the rehabilitation and justification,
Instead of always leading with incarceration and a limitation.
We must rebuild our democratic federation
With a new team for the delegation,
Derived not from the propagation and defamation,
But from the navigation and confirmation of a proper nation.
Oh, my dear honorable poet!
Words recess when I write about you
For, they start loving you
You were a sincere lover,
when you wrote about love;
You were a lovable mother,
when you wrote about a child;
You were a faithful leaf,
when you wrote about trees;
You were the struggling last breath,
when you praised the air;
You were the righteous river,
when you sang about the falls;
You were the boundless sky,
when you sang for the birds;
you were the yearning bare land,
when you wrote about the rain;
You were the trustworthy soldier,
when you wrote about patriotism;
You were the jubilant mother nature,
when you wrote about nature;
You were the powerful priest,
when you praised the lord
Through your worthy words,
you gave life to the abandoned swaying rope;
Your notable notes,
persuaded songs to the singing koels;
Your incredible imageries,
granted countless ideas for the poets;
Your romantic rhythms,
enriched soulful meaning to the ragas;
Your powerful patriotic songs
obliterated the superfluous fears
and your proud personal life
taught us self-respect
Note: September 11 marks the death anniversary of India’s firebrand poet and a revolutionary thinker from Tamil Nadu, Subramania Bharati. In a relatively short life span of 39 years, Bharati left an indelible mark in India’s history as not only a Tamil poet but also as a national icon.
In the midst of all this chaos
When frustration’s only grown,
Let us pause to stop and listen
To the lovely saxophone.
Adolphe Sax was its inventor
Back in 1846
And his instrument remains
One of musicians’ favorite picks.
Charlie Parker, Clarence Clemons,
John Coltrane and Kenny G
Are a few whose sax renditions
Have made music history.
So forget this doomed election.
Take a breath and clear your head
With the melancholy musings
Of a saxophone instead.
O! Mahatma Gandhi!
You taught us non-violence
But we slaughter easily
Our own sisters and brothers
We create an institution
To promote your ideals
Yet we subject to ordeal
The destitute of our nation
Bride-burning and bribery
Casteism and untouchability
We puff in snobbery
Losing our accountability
O! Mahatma! Do not weep and curse
This beloved nation of ours
When the books of your messages
Are used only for binding packages
I want to write a thing or two about racism
A current problem causing quite a schism
Perhaps it could be seen through another prism
Outside the jaundiced lenses of current activism.
My thoughts are my own, not influenced by race,
I try not to judge others by the color of their face
Never thought too much about anybody’s “place”
Always believed our bigotry was a national disgrace.
In our little community everyone was accepted
Everyone, excepting for the very rich,* were respected
All of us by our circumstances were inter-connected
Only lawbreakers, whatever their shade, were arrested.
When we use words like race and racism in patter
When we raise our eyebrows at Black Lives Matter
The more we go along with unnecessary evil chatter
We serve up national discord on a political platter.
We should treat everyone like a family member
And when tempted to prejudice always remember
We owe to our ancestors, with all due candor,
Our place of birth, color of our skin, and our gender.
No one of us is any better than the other of us, see,
We all have the same inherent rights to be free
If someday we stand before a Holy Creator, I guarantee
S/he will see no base differences between you and me!
[*truth is, I think we did look down on the
rich folks, especially if they thought they
were better than us poor folk!]
Written 3/14/2021
HONORABLE WINNER
All-Poetry Contest
July 29, 2021
"A writer must use ink from their heart for their readers." By Poet
Even as a creative "Ghost" writer,
we need "Heart" as we pull an all-nighter.
What will our muse want to "Deliver,"
maybe happy or sad or be a forgiver.
Words can sometimes be very "Tender,"
other times be bold and an offender.
"Erase" is one of our many tools,
no writer wants to be put in a group of fools.
Words are like paint painting the weather,
from days with flowers like pretty heather.
Summers can be really hot and bold,
then we cool off to a winter of "Cold."
They say our blood is really ink,
not red but a pretty pink.
NATIONAL DISEASE
There is a disease in our nation,
Dnt be deceived by emotion,
We are eating deeply by corruption,
They called themselves politicians
We call them money political.
Let build our nation,
Because we have our mission
To save our nation
Let our act speak our action
For our decision speak our motion
Let us show affections,
So their will be no commotion.
Pay urgent attention,
There will be no separation,
Not by their so called selection
Deceive us by so called election
That is why I say,
Bcos we have see,
Take my hand and hold me
And we will be like remeo and julliet
Let us stay together,
In the mixed of confusion.
There is no another,
there will be no asunder
Let climb the altar,
Where no man can ulter.
And will pray for our nation
There will be no confusion,
And there will be celebration
Yesterday was Button Day;
I somehow let it slip
Or maybe I just chose instead
To button up my lip.
Begun in 1938,
This date was set aside
To celebrate the crafters
Who keep notions stores supplied.
For think about your buttons –
Not those round ones, white and plain
But the myriad varieties
That sewing sites contain.
There are endless shapes and colors
And materials as well,
Most with little holes for threading –
Look real close and you can tell.
Why, the perfect style of button
Can improve a garment’s looks
And as fasteners, they’re easier
Than zippers, snaps or hooks.
Just don’t push somebody’s buttons,
Even one who’s button cute
For on Button Day (or one day late)
We owe them a salute.