Best New Image Poems
you make me better
i see a new image of myself
i feel like i am somebody
i actually wanna live now
i feel cleaner to the touch
the height of my depth has grown even more
my smile actually hurts my face....and it feels good
each sunrise feels new everyday
the feel of my every emotion is not so bad
my pride is now put in the proper perspective
my vibe is a perfectly creased three piece suit
warm happy faces have overtaken the stone cold facial expressions
i clock in each morning looking forward to clocking out
no longer do i drive in circles
no longer do i search for the strength to reenter the driveway of my life
the key to my heart is placed in a hook in the center of your heart
thank you....for helping to notice my dusty flaws
you are such a blessing to my maturation of my mind, body, heart, and soul
you continue to make me a Better Man....
Random happenings of life
get out of record just as quick.
They may sustain however, to boost
our own morals in some tranquil moment, especially
when such incidents have been generated by our own
learnt values and kindness; a helping
hand to a pregnant woman in the
store; accompanying a child
across the road
and like yesterday;
I was drawn with concern as an
old modest lady, preceding me out of bank, dropped her
fat purse. I rushed dropping my heavy office bag to secure
it and called to her, brandishing her valuable.
She looked back bewildered and exclaimed
“Oh!” as she recognized her belonging.
A disconcerted look painted
her face red and she grabbed
my hand with the wallet. Desperation
and relief was the new image on her panic stricken face.
She nearly hugged me mumbling incoherent words of
gratitude and relief. I smiled kindly,
assuring her it was nothing.
She explained she was
saved from a great loss.
I advised her to check the content
and made sure she placed it inside her bag.
I returned back her thankful smile and turned back to pick
my bag. I waved to her as I rushed. I look back, once at the
crossing; she was still standing dazed,
gazing at me, her handbag strongly
clutched beneath her arm.
I waved to her and smiled to
myself crossing. There were springs
in my paces; I felt so good. I glanced around at everyone,
feeling happy and proud. The sun looked brighter in the blue
sky as clouds move decisively. The world
seemed suddenly more beautiful.
My day was made!
The beggar
Wizened by lack, more than by age
The old blind beggar, who does loiter our streets
Unknown to most, is the legend
Behind the tales of Joe the bandit
With his great horde, he'd ridden into our town
The mordacious look, on his heavily bearded face
Did elicit fear, from the bravest.
Our good old town; always his to pillage
The lives of the town's folks; nothing but a trifle
He'd kill to instill terror, at the slightest provocation
But his next ride, into our little town
Had been his last ride, into any town.
A spent cartridge a meter, had lined our streets
The drains and sewers, had also run red
As a weak town's folks, had risen to war
Killing the bandits, all but Joe.
Shackled and marched round the old town
His life was spared, with his eyes gouged out
His new image; a message to others
That Old James Town, was out of bounds.
03/04/17
The snatcher of a growing childhood
converting adolescent innocence to adult desperation
now wears trending covering of power and glamour
with mind blowing colours fading away from one wash
coming from a shredded past is this trapped thunder
having an attitude felt in different temperatures
and character molded by a thousand question marks.
An uncle by blood, a friend at heart
a heart which announces all kinds of delicious meals
but serves in actuality spicy foamy vomit
shows qualities seemingly classmates to humanity
but are wholesomely baptized in the dead sea
the chilling atmosphere is no camouflage for this freezing fire
bathed in his urine, yet now declared clean.
Time has grown beards and once again, their eyes meet
she's expected to kick the whistle for his fame to linger
his shadows, too weighty for this new image he carries
smiles manifesting with a lazy energy
knocking the head of every feminine soul
his moving up has considered these stains beautiful
with his sleeping crimes far from societal righteousness
whoever he has beaten, should be a celibate prostitute
and kick the whistle, never letting it reach the lips.
His sunflower is blue and honey, bitter
letting the world know this, translates to singing hymns to the dead
she stands her ground to open his history's black chamber
he's the criminal but the public stands as her poisonous jury
she chews this bone with rubber teeth but never stops
the truth unveils but to noisy ears
to let all know he's an adult born of a child.
He's tenacious but not on a jean underwear
one more little voice adds to force out a moving plant
the anthill is broken as they come out of all holes
one time preys now unforgiving predators
to show a personality as real as a neckless head
resting on boneless shoulders
the whistle has been blown rather than kicked
as justice and fairness become first cousins to life.
HAIL THEE OSAMA, NOT !
I cry your demise, Oh dear Osama
For you live not long to be a saint
From The sour fruits you sow since the decades
Just yesterday, your elder was blessed
John was called, Oh dear Pope John
Beatified for life of a flock-Sherperd
That never canibalized upon the flocks
In peace he leads, in reality he preached
The world to turn a new image
What was your motive then? Bn
Progress for humanity or long live to the Qur'ans Sharia?
Who live to rule the other? Humans or faith?
Learn where you got it wrong, Mujaheddin
On your second coming, dare not evil
Never dwell in tora bora!
Bear with men and learn
If only you care to the core
We should have crave your mercy
As sympathizers
Apostles to Jesus, harmless merciful talibans
Yet I admire you a lot, I adore you
Its works of a mad courage to stand alone
And existed as the odd for this long
So your sainthood days shall come
For my joy to call you Prophet Bn Osama
I pray thee peace, I call the true warrior
For the bad memories that haunts me always
Never to forget, till you exist no more.
An amethyst ethereal was seen
in Herculean constellation grand
of gem’s celestial purple-splendored sheen
within a dying star’s outreaching strand.
In vivid planetary nimbus show
its death in living color to portray
the stellar rings around the rosy go
like jewel from the lava in Pompeii.
Midst Milky Way that cloud is most remote
from scene of where is played this brief vignette
with earthlings spinning out their anecdote
while circling star half through its span— and yet
past present immemorial amassed
beyond our beingness shall everlast.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is a sonnet…
Some sources of inspiration were the following…
Archaeologists discovered an invaluable cache of ritual artifacts at Pompeii…
Image and information ~ A Cosmic Amethyst in a Dying Star…
Image explanation ~ This new image of IC 4593 has X-rays from Chandra in purple, invoking similarities to amethysts found in geodes around the globe. The bubble detected by Chandra is from gas that has been heated to over a million degrees. These high temperatures were likely generated by material that blew away from the shrunken core of the star and crashed into gas that had previously been ejected by the star.
Its a blurred image of my wish
So deeply buried I wish it resurrects as fast
From those thorns of impracticalities my bones fears to tend
When shall that day be, real, true
A song above the cries of the "Bata" drums, to shout joy
For my birth into a courage, that I lost all this age
Oh Sovi Agbade, god of the thunderous laughter's
Let it flow into my heart and punish my weak ego
Now!
Yes, from the olden stocks, i am born
Risen to the call of the dawn criers ogene
That calls me to tend the land, for the seasons seeds of sweats
Aye! I shall respond and on guard long before
This day of this age
To claim my lost glory, from the drown fate
My trampled destiny, today we part communion
For my new image awaits at the outskirt.
Now!
About the digital age and loss of human fidelity and meaning
South core stabilized after all the smoke had cleared.
None could understand how such occurrences could be part of every day life, but the setup was inevitable.
All relied on another type of persistent Image outside of the self. The other path discovered unto destruction by the hand of crafty men.
Despite the failures, they persisted on the path.
They created higher dimensions of interference against the intuition of the native images until one day, the merger occurred.
No one could anticipate the outcome.
The complete loss of the native images to the present new Image seeing everything.
Like the god Image of old, a new more prescient Image demanded performance at the limit of the native images.
None could accept the serfdom but none could escape the reality imposed.
All wished for the smoke for relief.
“There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such an unreal life. They take the images outside of them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself.”
Quote by Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf
A new image
For first impression
An advertisement
For sale promotion
Various lens and mirrors
For real, virtual, strange images
But for man
No matter how modified the appearance
The heart remains the same
Never take anything that's not yours,
something that you haven't earned;
somebody worked hard to get that,
so put it down and think of a better way
to lift that weight off of your conscience!
If all followed your example,.
and in front of God they'd tremble,
we would have less crime today!.
What keeps people honest
is the fear of being caught
and dearly pay for doing wrong;
some laugh at your hesitation,
others foresee your frustration;
be stronger and wiser than them
by giving honesty another image:
truly genuine and truthful!
Would you like to imagine or really see
a world without danger or trouble?
Start cleaning up your act and be humble:
many will notice the sudden change
and begin their endless jeourney...
down a more righteous road full of wisdom;
what they'll learn from your new image,
can't be compared to what will come!
What keeps people honest
is the embarassment of being criticized,
or even worse of being alienated from society;.
and that fret state of mind
guards them against any attempt
to break the law as often as they could!
Then does the human spirit, indomitable and free,
have an imponderable conscience...
ready to violate all moral principles
that any law-abiding citizen never would?
Perfection is not found in humans,
unless they turn to spiritual guidance,
and they could have a soul
as dark as the Devil,
but with grace they are transformed
and made as obedient as angels;
you have a greater potential...
simply rise above them!
It happened in a place
I’d never thought of seeing her
Suddenly there she was
In front of me, smiling her joy
Excited, delighted
My heart pounded in my chest
I felt blood rush to my face
And the moment was such a blessing
Precious and exhilarating
A combination of amazement
Wonder and incredulity
I thought quickly and slid my phone
From my back pocket
These were modern times
In spite of her senior years
Tears of happiness stung my eyes
As I centered her face in my lens
And snapped the image quickly
There she was, on my phone
Smiling like she’d never been gone!
The moment passed and she disappeared
I didn’t look for her – somehow I knew
She’d gone back to heaven where she lived
With God and His angels, Jesus and the Saints
I picked up my phone and looked at her image
Amazed that God had given me this keepsake
She looked younger than I ever remembered her
And I was praising God for this gift of His love
When I woke up and looked at my phone
Hope never far from my thoughts
There in my photo album was a new image
Only it was of a butterfly whispering by
Instead of my lovely Grandmother’s smile
K Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
September 13, 2021
She is in charge of her body but her mind is fighting her tooth and nail.
She has her own outlook on life but a force inside keeps saying stop.
Wild and carefree is her new image.
Yet the old self filled with righteousness is trying to take over.
New love has allowed her new flame to ignite.
Yet the old love wants her to return to the past.
He keeps bringing up memories of what their life was like.
And while she has fought off his attempts, a little bit her slips into the past.
Hanging onto her new lover's hand, she hears him tell her that nothing will
separate them.
Alone at night she wonders how long she can hold on.
Suddenly her old self appears telling her she won't win.
Emotionally she cries out and banishes her old self.
Can she hold on or will she slip again?
Distant, Yet Distinct
Crowding My Dreams
So Hard To Concentrate
When This Light Gleams
Shimmering In My Eyes
Breaking Thru The Passer By
Content For A Moment
Within This Memory I Lie
Running To The Door
My Foresight Needs Shade
This Dwindling Reception
Drifting As We Fade
Into Another Night's Dream
Into A Brand New Image
Just Wait One Moment
While We Assess The Damage
One Day Later
And No New Light
Just The Faint Essence
From An Endless Night
Smoke Filters The Sky
In A Failing Aspiration
Is This My Worst Dream
Or An Awful Premonition?
a journey
out of character
step outside the norm into new
undertakings endeavors
that will expand personal horizons
cultivating a brand new image to
be portrayed to the world
new image
new impression
change exterior
change interior
better version
better design
make improvements
were needed in order
to create the persona
that was always desired
move away from the old
move towards the new
leaving the past version
of self in the dust