Best Nurturer Poems
A unicorn took flight with brilliant, rainbow wings
ascending from the heart of a joyous poet.
Dark eyes shined like jewels, smiling from high,
parting dark clouds and unwrapping gifts of
love and friendship. Words of light and purest
energy reached to heaven on a spiral staircase
where blessed angels extended hands of healing
to a poet's heart. They know her well, her hands are creators
of many a masterpiece - sharing, befriending, inspiring, encouraging -
soulful in words and action, passionate in her artistry,
selfless of her time...see how her admirers crowd around
as the unicorn descends once again from her rainbow flight?
All wait with feet on the ground, sharing prayers, asking the angels
to sing so she may feel and know she is not alone.
Never, ever alone in the fight. Too many of us have been
where she has been, felt the darkness pierce our hearts.
With hope and faith, the sun will shine again. The angels will sing.
She will ride that unicorn again and share her poetic heart again,
smile again, laugh again, teach and inspire.
She is more than just PD, she is Linda -
friend, daughter, mother, grandmother, nurturer -
The darkness cannot have her. She is needed in the light.
for Shadow Hamilton's Fighting Depression Contest, 12/1/14
A stranger lives within me.
I see her now and then.
Sometimes it's hard to see the line,
Where she and I begin.
Human beings are complex.
They have so many facets.
It's like they wear a kind of cloak,
In which are many pockets.
One pocket holds a nurturer,
Another holds but self.
One is confident and brave,
Her sister grasps for wealth.
A cloak of personalities,
Which hides even from me,
The person that I really am,
The soul I want to be.
One side of me is honest, good,
One cries out for revenge.
One side of me is beautiful,
One angry and unhinged.
Which side of me will I let out?
Who will I let them see?
When will I meet the one who hides,
The stranger that is me?
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story - VII-IX Continued
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
Check out: www.stateless.mysite.com/Pantouns-20-Aout-2017.pdf
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
VII
The One-Act Play's the favourite Old Men's roman fleuve
Experience shows Old Men how to keep the Wench in hell
They know how to stoke the Imagination with love
They need no how-to softwares to write a novel
VIII
The One-Act Play they say is still Old Men's mainstay
Though on Freytag's Triangle they slip down climax
The Wench cannot make Old Men still come up their way
Not so the Youngster his horns gore Wench's false syntax
IX
The Wench always seeks to milk Old Men in side-burns
Old Men know One-Act Plays don't box-office burgeon
Nor drips invested in banks ensure big returns
Not so the Youngster who banks his bit in oven
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 11, 2018
OGE
Crushed dreams exploded friendships eroded,
stubbornness, selfishness and ego interceded,
expectations of true friendships forever eroded.
Mystique, curiosity gives the urge to peek,
but critiques week after week , send a message
there's a mean streak.
Always like a kid wanting to be applauded,or a
confused adult needing to be lauded, friendly at
times, ugly at others .
Yoyo idiosyncrasies
flexing like Jekyll and Hyde, a crazy pretender,
never had a nurturer, stuck in mixed moods
one that love and friendships eludes
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story (Continued)
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
Check out: www.stateless.mysite.com/Pantouns-20-Aout-2017.pdf
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
IV
During the intervals of the play the actors
Spy on older folk queueing outside the lone loo
The Wench in the hall twists and turns on spectators
Not so the Youngster his pen stiff in the igloo
V
Middle-aged couples in the audience flick through
The programme not reading even the title page
Long years since they thumbed dog-ear-ed novels stuck in glue
Not so the Youngster who jumps high from page to page
VI
Old Men trundle back to their seats trailing wet patches
Not regretting over-coat flirts with hat-check Wench
Old people read novels in bed but in snatches
Not so the Youngster who throws into works his wrench
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 10, 2018
Almighty God* constantly blessing my life
Blessed Saviour of compassion-care
Caring Creator, directing me
Driving Director toward enlightened spirituality
Enlightening Spirit for stewardship-faithfulness
Faithful Father granting goodness
Good Granter of helpfulness’ hope
Helping Healer against sin-virus influence
Influential Instructor along biblical judgment
Just Judge, showing me kindness
Kind King full of love
Loving Lord with tender mercies
Merciful Master, nurturing worshipful heart
Nourishing Nurturer, leading me against evil
Omniscient Leader along great power
Powerful Mover for joyous revival
Quickening Reviver, restoring my soul
Redeemer-Restorer Who strengthens servanthood
Strengthening Christ for triumph’s assurance
Triumphant Warrior, lifting my faith’s banner
Upholding Faith-Author that conquers doubts
Victorious Conqueror, winning with wise counsel
Wisdom Source, exemplifying discipleship essence
‘Xcellent Example Who personified servant-leadership
Yoke Bearer with against weakness’ fall
Zealous Fire for my earnest devotion to the Almighty God.*
*Genesis 17:1 …The LORD appeared…, and said…, I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be thou perfect.
June 1, 2019
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
Check out: www.stateless.mysite.com/Pantouns-20-Aout-2017.pdf
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
I
The Old Man often stops by the hedge or dark bush
His back to the World, the Youngster can hold his own
The short story is written through spurts in a rush
Not so the novel which calls for much breath word blown
II
The poem most write confines itself to the page
Cousin brother to the short story told in a day
Old Men take less time to leave the Wench in a rage
Not so the Youngster whose novels always end gay
III
Plays are staged with intervals peer to the novel
Essays take longer to read than the short story
The Wench smokes cigarettes waiting to stoke yell
Not so the Youngster whose next essay's more gory
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 9, 2018
For Mother's Day -
Sometimes, we forget -
A Mother is human.
Sometimes, we forget -
That she has fears of failure
As a wife,
As a parent,
As a human.
Sometimes, we forget -
She is not infallible,
That she does not have superhuman strength,
That she cannot leap mountains in a single bound,
Sometimes, we forget -
She is not allowed second guesses,
Uninterrupted time of her own,
Or human frailty in times of weakness.
Sometimes, we forget -
She must carry a shield of iron
To protect those frail beings trailing behind
Who seek her shelter in any uncertain situation.
Sometimes, we forget -
That she cries in the dark
For mistakes she may have made,
Or shortcomings that have gotten the best of her.
Sometimes, we forget -
That she is still learning like we are,
Guarding each step as we carefully go.
Sometimes, we forget -
That it is a daily challenge
Just to know when to be strong,
Or when to be soft as the time is right.
She is the guardian,
The caretaker,
The nurturer,
The strength in our core.
Sometimes we forget -
She is afraid, after all –
That she is merely the naive student
Learning how to become the Master.
By jb pearce
05-06-16
Nature's
verdigris face
beams at waterfalls touch
evergreens drink a hearty fill
moss is abundant upon the limestone;
I sit dangling my feet in the
cool aqua-watching swans
glide lazily
along.
a taste
of springtime peace
invades my spirit with
its' lure in this place every year;
mother earth is a sweet nurturer, soft
of caress to the soul who needs
an escape from the grind;
tranquility
wondrous!
Most of the fey were sleeping the day the tree stump came alive
She had the most glorious hair, and the prettiest smile.
She gathered woodland flowers and decorated herself.
A handful were silenced by her gorgeous transformation
Will she remain human or resume her life as a stump?
It was a quandary best answered in the future.
She was a story teller, a nurturer, and a nature lover.
They appreciated her, knowing she could change back at any time.
Woman, discarded remnant of Adam?
Fe-male, not to be given her own name;
her own identity, other than, a part?
Receptacles, empty bowls, hollow holes,
to be filled only with necessary roles?
Necessary for man.
Primero uno, cock of the walk,
strutting, scratching, with his third leg dangling.
Womb man, so they, the male God’s called her.
Earth Mother, heroine, holder of hearts and hands,
no man, nomad, nurturer of new life;
from the warm, wet, darkness to the Light.
Woman.
She said maybe to so many things, I was not sure she had an opinion
But after awhile I realized she has an honorary degree in diplomacy
Always accepting, never judging
I had not found anyone else like this in the world yet
I was amazed and pleasantly surprised
She never put anyone down or used derogatory names
I wanted her to be the queen or the president,
but she was not excited about either
preferring to be a neighbor, friend, and nurturer instead.
Weary farmer, worn and worried,
"The wife's not well",
unspoken thoughts awash with grace-
All he took for granted flows into his face
His nurturer has left her place.
101 in a row (off the bad wagon) 191
Contest Judged: 12/20/2016 1:57:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
9th Place out of 10
A woman, the epitome of grace
A picture of beauty, a sight to behold
She is like a flower, with petals in place
A wonder to marvel, a story untold.
Her eyes, like stars, sparkle with life
They speak of her soul, pure and bright
Her smile, like sunshine, chases away strife
A true source of joy, a delight to sight.
She carries herself with poise and charm
Her gait, a dance, a graceful motion
She emanates warmth, like a fire in a calm
Her presence, a comfort, a soothing potion.
A woman, a force, a power to reckon
She is fierce, yet gentle, a paradox so true
Her love, like an ocean, deep and unbroken
Her spirit, like a phoenix, rises anew.
She is a nurturer, a protector, a guide
A beacon of hope, in times of despair
She is a warrior, with nothing to hide
A woman, a wonder, beyond compare.
A woman is a wonder to behold,
Her grace and beauty, a story untold.
She moves with a rhythm all her own,
A dance of life, with seeds she's sown.
Her eyes are like windows to her soul,
A place of depth and wisdom untold.
Her smile, a beacon of hope and light,
Guiding us through the darkest night.
Her voice, a melody that soothes the heart,
A lullaby that can make us depart
To a world of peace and tranquility,
Where love and joy reign with humility.
Her strength is like a mighty river,
Unyielding, yet gentle and tender.
Her spirit, an unbreakable flame,
That can weather any storm, without shame.
A woman is a force to be reckoned with,
A power that can move mountains and shift
The tides of fate, and create a new dawn,
Where love and harmony will forever spawn.
So let us cherish the women in our lives,
Our mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives,
For they are the embodiment of love,
A gift from above, sent from heaven above.
So here's to the women, the queens of the world
Who make life beautiful, with their grace unfurled
May they always shine, like stars in the sky
And light up our lives, with their beauty and high.
He is my almighty, my always, my armor
He is my blessing, my breath, my boldness
He is my comfort, my carpenter, my compassion
He is my divinity, my devotion, my delight
He is my earth, my eternity, my enlightenment
He is my faith, my fulfillment, my future
He is my God, my gift, my grace
He is my hope, my heart, my heaven
He is my insight, my inspiration, my inner guide
He is my joy, my judgement, my Jesus
He is my king, my kindness, my keeper
He is my light, my love, my laughter
He is my maker, my music, my morning
He is my necessity, my nurturer, my night
He is my openness, my oil, my offering
He is my purity, my praise, my peace
He is my quest, my quiet, my quivering
He is my rock, my redeemer, my rest
He is my shepherd, my sight, my sensitivity
He is my truth, my treasure, my theology
He is my understanding, my unity, my usefulness
He is my value, my vastness, my virtue
He is my worth, my warmth, my wisdom
He is my xenia, my xenas, my xenodochy
He is my yearning, my yore, my yesterday
He is my zeal, my zenith, my zest
He is my Jesus, He is my God, He is my Holy Spirit
He is the One I love… He is my everything
Yesterday, tomorrow and today – always
He holds the key to death and the grave
As well as my eternity – Praise His holy name!
Matthew 16:13-19
King James Version
13 When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?
14 And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets.
15 He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
16 And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
17 And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
18 And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
19 And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.
Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
April 22, 2021