Best Not Yet Poems
I had a long day
and I carried the world
upon my shoulder,
The journey was long
lonely and arduous,
I want to lie down
and close my eyes ...
But not yet.
The sun is setting gently
and a weary wind sighs
through the evening haze,
I want to lay my burden down
and quietly sneak away
from the din of the day ...
But not yet.
I had my days in the sun
I frolicked and I had fun,
It's time to retreat
to my safe haven
and reminisce about
those willful days,
I am ready to confess
and mend my ways ...
But not just yet!
Yesterday,a ghost of someone better haunting in the shadows that he hath
banished it to.
I will bring you back.
From death and darkness to the light I will resurrect you to former greatness with
a last hope at her hand.
Better man she loved so long ago...I am not dead.
Not yet.
Wounded child hath sent you in jealousy to live beneath selfish pride and
careless discontent of the perfect life...of the perfect lady.
I will bring you back.
To the surface to resurface faith in those who had given up.
To heal those hurt by his ways.
To break the silence.
Don't lose faith love...I am not dead.
Not yet.
Yesterday, I will bring you to life once more.
Kind and caring, truthful and committed.
Selfish child sent back...I have much to prove.
Much to make up.Much living left to do.
Don't forget Love...I am not dead.
Not...yet.
Womb starts bulging oh no
Like a balloon you look on
As it bursts into life
Splintering my weak nerves on no
Pressing my nervous muscles oh no
Melting my bones oh no I say
Oh no, just not yet for this
Oh no, just not yet honey
Children are a gift from God!
For USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD6)
We Have Not Yet Begun..........
Some experiences leave words
inadequate to describe them
Like standing on the flight deck
of the USS Bonhomme Richard
Witnessing at sunset
the lowering of the colors
feeling the reverence and respect
shown as the flag flutters to rest
The solemn escort of the flag
that demonstrates devotion
to high ideals and freedom
Here on a ship with a name, deeply
steeped in history I am told the
motto, "I have not yet begun to fight"
Proud words that rang out long ago
from John Paul Jones
And so tradition carries on-
in the awesome technology deployed
in the constant fight against tyranny
During this tour I have learned
a whole new language
Important messages like
"Don't give up the ship"
and how the resolve of these words
shone from the eyes of every crew member.
The feeling of team-ship was strong
among them- yet I felt
as I stood at the side of a
certain Lieutenant Colonel
on that flight deck, that I
was in the presence of an American hero.
I will long remember
my visit to the USS Bonhomme Richard
In the little booklet I was given
it stated many facts and figures;
snippets of information of a
mind-boggling nature-
but the smiles and conversation
the crew were so willing to give
will live -in my heart forever.
I will be thinking of them
"Launching into the abyss,"
attending to commands- like
"Darken ship" and I will bless them always
for their roles in defending
our Freedoms
"WE.... have not yet begun....
to thank you for your fight
Dear men and women
of the USS Bonhomme Richard."
Suzanne Delaney
Haven't come face to face with my life yet
My desires haven’t turned into my goal yet
Don't know what i am in search of
My efforts haven’t bore fruit yet
Yearning to fly in the vast blue sky
But i haven’t turned into a bird yet
Wanted to soothe each inch of me
But I am not a perfume yet
Don't get ,what I keep on thinking
Haven't controlled my senses yet..
SPRING NOT YET
Not quite yet
Winds humming steady even
Yet blowing in minor mode
The cloud layer vast high
Relentless with no whisper of blue
Over coffee my window view
Offers a shiver but no temptation
I sense (with fancied feet)
An Earth just beginning to squish
Yet with forbidding firmness beneath
Torn by nature’s shredder
Lay scraps of all variety poking heads
There is no hint nor harbinger of gayety
In a scene with absent southern touch
Even Tiger – my puss – is reluctant
To venture out
Spring?
I can only close-eyed visualize
I stand upon this aging wooden bridge
peering into depths of the swollen stream
a fingerling flowing to waters of the sea
grief is rhythmic like the beat of my heart
tears ebbing in rise with the morning tide
each breath escapes in a murmured sigh
Three months gone by since my love left
bereft am I since there's been no word
no news of his vessel, now long overdue
a great storm cast its eye on his ship's course
If prayers were diamonds I'd have great wealth
currency in which I could never take pleasure
In my worst nightmare he lies tangled in kelp
without help to free him he surely will drown
a torturous fate that nearly drives me insane
Here, on the bridge, amid my sighs and cries
I beg that somehow he finds his way home
escaping the wrath of an unmerciful sea
Day after day, when dawn has barely broken
I stand on the bridge, sealed bottle in my hand
inside is a note in which my sad heart entreats,
"Poseidon, please send my love back to me
before loneliness becomes the cause of my death."
To the current my plea tossed. Hope, not yet lost
June 21, 2017
The hinged door has fallen open
inviting me to kindly step outside -
Death, be not so hurried
to grasp my fragile and wrinkled hand.
You've come for me far too early
so, I must dare to make a few demands.
I've not yet said farewell
to those I've loved and lost,
nor to those who once loved me -
whose hearts suffered at great cost.
One more time must I take in
the fragrance of magnolia,
feel the wind muss my hair,
and say a final prayer.
Do not pity the gasp of my last breath.
Life was a sampling, simply a test,
a temporary state of existence
until Death reached with persistence.
I walk slowly to my grave
not taking his cold hand.
Death does not afford me help.
No choir voices do I hear sing,
no celebration ending my life.
Freedom is awaiting me,
that only Death can bring.
Shed no tears of sadness,
tis for you I mourn and weep.
You must live in this evil world
and I... I shall merely be asleep.
To those not yet born
Be careful of the thumping heart
For rats abound
Turn to the morning sky and
Marvel at streams, mountains,
Drifting mists and rocks in pools!
In happy womb do dance!
Your sword? Best kept to hand.
You’ll need its edge one day
This poem has not yet been saved.
These daughters are far from depraved.
And all the elephants now live in caves
While you read a poem, unsaved.
Loose, rugged, and hot,
Then gone in an instant.
Like all our lurid lives
It survives, even as it dies.
At nineteen and eighteen
he said I couldn’t be seen
his reasons being:
too old, too sold, too mould for a being.
So the young and toddler, to that world of pleasure
and measure was his choice
-couldn’t choose an old frog for a voice
So like the devil in the Garden of Eden,
he appeared with a fruit to broaden,
And so in the name of the old
Kiswahili saying’udongo upatilize ungali maji’
He acted dying
On that soul so buying.
And the results so painful
Triplets on arms
Illness at hand
To such a young energetic ambitious being.
Written between 2000-2003
Just the young thoughts of the young mind
the heart says concede
lay it down, admit defeat
but death's not my style
Waiting and watching,
for the day to come, when I
am finnally free.
Compassion and magnificence glows
in you. You have the divine ability
to see through our souls,
and feel our joy, pain, happiness
and sorrow. You have the divine calling
to show everyone Truth as it really is,
but unfortunately war, corruption, drug peddling
and weapon dealings have given us the wealth
and power that makes our lives pleasurable. This
means that it will be hard for you to adapt to our
worldly lifestyle, forcing us to chase you away or slay
you. Well, some of us always pray and meditate,
seeking your Spirit on mountains, jungles, and in
silence. After being filled by your spirit deep in their
souls, they return with the Truth to the rest of us, only
to be scorned, ridiculed and excommunicated. I know I
am talking like a coward, but as a friend, I would urge
you to return to where stars never die. If you reveal
yourself as the bodily vassal of Truth, the worldly
masters might do worse things to you, than they do to
the seekers of your Truth. I know that with your divine
powers, you can see a world that is still bleeding with
innocent blood, men falling to their own pits and traps,
and hurting souls that are continually tightly clinging to
their suffering, not letting anyone to let go of their
own suffering. Sad but true it is; the world is not yet
ready for you…
I see the Night has come not yet
Breathe in the stars of our evening
Tomorrow Aurora will spread
And wake you up with light of being.
She'll brush aside the dream from eyes
She will flare up on cheeks of Glory
The thousands swords gift brilliant glance
to one who's getting sleep so jolly.