Best Outgrows Poems
A GIFT
You've given me
a piece of your soul
inside a sunken brown envelope
written handle with care
as if I was born heavy-handed.
You've telescoped
my soul once more
in its caravan
on a mountain slope
stooped by a bulky backpack.
It's good you've frozen
that portion of my long journey
I could have missed the sun
just because I stooped too low
that I could only see my heavy footsteps.
I've always known
when I unwrap your love
with my crystal-pure letter opener
I've trapped a powerful force
that allows me to forge ahead
with its timely smiles.
what I just received
is static showcase of a dynamic love!
NOW I KNOW
Now I know
you covered yourself
in coming to me
for I was too green
to know myself
that outgrows my form.
I am sorry
if I hated anything
that didn't speak
my unfulfilled language
though what it attempted
was to enrich it and my world.
You spoke my language
nonetheless
and maneuvered me
into marching
to my inner heart.
How could I resist
from following
strangely familiar footprints
to a wide lawn home
almost forgotten
in the dark smoke
of my activities.
WHY YOU
Could it be
That my footprints
Have lead me
To meet and see you as beautiful?
I could have seen you
any other else
If these noise
would have stopped crowding
about my sensitive ear.
Maybe I was formed
To see you as I do
And there's no way
To be otherwise.
Or if there is
It could be a slim probability
I could not wait
For time to unwrap
Your true worth
For I have my heart
Filled with pregnant rose
And to wait a little longer
Would mean forever.
It could be
that you are an eclectic
of personalities
that lighted my footprints
or, perhaps, watered them with tears.
in my case I chose you
and that's a footprint hard to erase!
Dalila Agtani
To you, O women great, in obeisance, I bow,
For your primary forms of mother, sister, mate;
Full of love, patience, kindness and compassion, how,
The almighty has adorned you with goodness great;
As planners and arrangers, today, you excel,
As big bosses chiefs and heads, powers vast you wield;
Teachers, officers, authors - In all you seem good,
Care, caution and concern - with you go very well,
As economists, to homes and globe, wealth you yield;
In your head and heart, virtues reside as they should...!
Incarnation of love! You’re my inspiration!
Visionary you are; your views always outshine;
So beautiful! True jewel of any nation!
In forms of goddess, you dwell-in many a shrine;
Your perfection permeates limits of the sky,
Your determination deepest of depth pierces;
In patience is like the forbearing mother earth!
Your optimism outgrows the very palm tree, high,
Your trustworthiness, every painful hearts, nurses,
Honesty and loyalty, in you, find no dearth...!
In integrity, O women, you're never less,
Sense of wit and humor in life you never lack;
With grace of forgiveness you raze all hatred-mess,
Your nature of nurturing heals each psychic crack;
Your encouragements make the humanity grow;
Your fun and frolics, happiness in hearts, blossom,
In facing hardest of challenges, you've no match!
Thoughts and feelings in you, like the gentlest breeze, blow,
There lies constant comfort in your benign bosom;
Wisdom and wit, with you, merrily, get attach...!
You've been the source of all human origin,
Wombs that have given birth to global history;
In, form of, immaculate virgin with no sin,
You've brought the redeemer, full of mystery;
It's hence; I extol you, dear women, to the heights,
Strength and power of the universe hides in you;
Creating, protecting, destroying each power!
Hills mountains, vales, landscapes and all marvelous sights,
Earth and ether were born by feminine strength too,
My wish is to be your friend each-and-every hour...!
23 March 2022
TRIBUTE TO WOMEN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
A young man bought a tight pair of fleeces,
And their stranglehold filled all the creases,
But the fit was so thin
That he couldn't begin
To pump blood to his bits ... and his pieces.
Well, they made him look chic as expected,
Though his girlfriend was feeling neglected,
Cuz from belly through bum,
His poor junk was so numb
That he just could NOT get it ... erected.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "What's Bugging Me" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Bawdy Limerick Contest - Let's Keep It PG-13" Poetry Contest, Tania Kitchin, Judge & Sponsor.
* One of my weaknesses is expensive clothing, and my pet peeve is the new "slim fit" men's suits and clothes - I hate the way they look and feel, like a little boy who can't afford new clothing and outgrows them. I can't WAIT 'til they go out of style! * ;o)
("The World's Greatest Toy" is the motto and ad line used by the makers of The Erector Set, which I had as a boy and remember fondly ... though the word later took on much "grander" meaning, lol)
* Syllables - 10, 10, 6, 6, 10, counted at HowManySyllables.com *
His innocence lies in the very unknowing
Of what is the truth as he just keeps on growing
He questions the birds in the sky up above
He warms us with laughter and endows us with love
Every question from him is so serious, yet
I have to laugh, from the look that he gets
He’s often a handful, but with a heart that’s so wide
As he often states feelings that he just cannot hide
She is his sister; she’s a bit stronger and taller
Which makes him seem younger, just so much smaller
There in her heart, she, too, has her ways
Of giving us sunshine on the darkest of days
She’s dramatic and active, an athlete to boot
She’s the younger of my girls, who’s so very cute
She’s willful, demanding, but yet can be coy
She’s a blessing from above, an angel of joy
There, even older, another girl blessed us so
It’s been fun watching her age, fun watching her grow
She’s not yet an adult, but seems to just know it all
I hope in her assumptions, she never suffers a fall.
However, she my daughter and a real beauty at that
Who often asks us parents if her clothes make her fat
I guess it’s her age, but that’s the norm for these girls
I’ll love her like my baby girl, as she outgrows her curls
Then there’s the man, my oldest boy, he’s so wise
He grew up so fast, right before our very eyes
He’s sensitive and caring, so smart, gives respect
He’ll be quite the man, very successful I just bet
Though, he too, is a teen and subject to the pressure
He still does so much to which others don’t measure
He rounds off the family, he, my oldest boy
As all of them, together, bring just so much joy
I’ve written many forms of verse
Sometimes bad…sometimes worse
For poetry it seems….a curse
Word shopping with an empty purse
For years before I ever spoke
My poetic crayons broke
The dog ate two, several melted
Yet, without voice I truly felt it
By accident I wrote a Sonnet
‘bout an unseen passing comet
The colors set the page ablaze
In passage through the crayon phase
I now share on silent keys
My Crayola memories
Etched in ever-changing lies
For no one truly owns their skies
So be it crayon, keys, or pen
A search for forever’s now and then
Give thanks for crayon’s simple truth
The poet never outgrows youth
Solar flare of souls, their rebellious radiance glows
Luscious light outflows, all boundaries it outgrows
Seeds break their hulls, toward the light they crawl
Gripping the dark earth tight, craving heavenly light
The surface is penetrated, broken, a quiet joy unspoken
Blue Angels, Visions, all break out of their dark prisons
Swollen buds, restless stallions seeking out companions
Thunderous discharge of energy puts innocence in jeopardy
Night Blooming Jasmine bent on producing a sweet scent
Toxic fruit is what`s left once the ashen flowers are spent
Tenacious days are losing time, deforming a face once sublime
The sky`s a radiant gold, heavy with summer`s stories untold
Commenced
as a tiny
egg glued to foliage.
Maturing bondage in a shell
awaits
Larva.
Eating, growing,
full size caterpillar
outgrows its present confines.
Splitting
Again.
Reattaching
itself with liquid from
its spinneret . Creating a
button.
hanging
little pupa
dieting, motionless,
metamorphosing completely
anew
Cracking,
exposing head
and thorax first. Followed
by legs and golden wings of a
Monarch.
As the pride of our continent
rolls out her drum of independence
With great achievements clearly evident ;
to groove an extreme life of Indulgence
She blows the trumpet from her resident
Once enslaved,now liberated
She dances ethusiastically in triumph
Her vigour and victory no longer defeated;
Gradually as she outgrows her nymph
and mounts up on platform elevated
Her days ahead are even more green
Though now myopic to see the Big screen
She'll win her spurs if only we get really keen;
and quit venting on her our spleen
but esteem her as a Queen
blame her not for the on-goings in her abode
nor openly tag her good-for-nothing dry bone
encourage her instead to keep up with the high-way code;
and she'll sooner become the chief corner stone
yelling out in a more cheerful tone
Call her not a nonentity
for she firmly stands as a true identity
she yearns for true diplomats to uphold her dignity;
as she gradually unfolds her creative ability
to nurture heroes of her nativity
I mean Her, our country NIGERIA
a nation envied from afar by foreigners
endowed with so great a treasure on every area;
birthing diverse calibre of World-class designers
Hoist the Flag as you go for Goals,NIGERIA!
Let us accept this pain
and some fear
it will heighten autumn colors
crack of clean air
black crows in blue sky
lake.
Rather than fight pain, falling
asleep in front of tv,
understand the full
import of its situation
in the body. Blessed
once, cursed now
only fear prevents
full knowledge of experience.
The gray sky brings
winter, no blame.
The poet writes a few last poems
or continues to live with his pain.
In itself pain does not oppose
life, and may enhance it
or build character, create
wisdom. But too much fear
chokes the throat and burns
the eyes. It
destroys the last free
assessment of life.
* * *
Now I am going to live in my body
as it is, almost fearlessly
running in pain, working
to abandon immortality
as a hope, conceiving
sunset after sunset
feeling what I feel.
On the streets I meet
many beautiful young women
curious to a certain extent
what makes a man older.
I can only say ten years
and the hand that reaches through
the cloud. I can say
only the knowledge of mortality
which makes us brothers and sisters
with the animals. And only
the acceptance which gives us wisdom
to couple often and lovingly.
How am I going to live every day
as my last, hoping happiness
outgrows fear by an ounce
or enough? By running, writing
and loving. By moving uphill
and downhill like a bear.
By committing my last words
to a powerful lord. How
do the clouds accept my dead
self? A rock thrown, a crow.
* * *
When I am old
young girls will not be frightened anymore.
I will invite them
to my seat and tell
about the women I knew.
I will tell about
the clothes they wore
and how they earned a living.
I will try to remember
what was important to them
and if they had a favorite color
or knew how to divine.
Maybe I live and maybe I don't.
The smoke is white or black.
The winds are bright or dark.
The coins are heads or tails.
What have I been afraid of?
Death is most of all like sleep.
We spend so long apart
after briefly knowing ourselves.
I need you to know myself
and without you all I know
is sun.
Rose
If we all become flowers of rose,
Whose scent always outgrows,
Even those hands crush us, in an instance,
Will be left with our fragrance.
All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi
From a book "Outspoken" - 2012
Available at www.amazon.com
Coordinates require input, chance comes coincidentally,
Rendezvous a meeting point, your wandering aimlessly,
Vector on interception course, we cross paths randomly
Anticipation is foresight, I never imagined such beauty,
Innocent palpitations strike, overwhelmed by nubility,
Calibration nonessential, elegance exudes so naturally,
Reason is the difficult part, am I thinking irrationally,
Infatuation happens, pubescence outgrows captivity,
Desire lost in translation, god what is happening me,
Cannot understand, attractions growing exponentially,
Resistance futile, unconditional surrender I give freely,
Stay a little longer, for I’m helpless through invisibility,
Somehow you went away, disappearing into obscurity,
My only confession now, is yearning a crushed fantasy.
By David Kavanagh
Something I created
Visions of you and me being synchronized
Maybe to you the picture faded
But it's eternally captured in my mind
The memory is for my own survival
I dream to feed my soul
to the far corners of my mind i travel
For my spirit to become whole
But its just an illusion they say
and I have to cheat with the thought
I imagine you as an everlasting print
You have become my work of art
I'll keep adding to the creation
So the picture outgrows even you
Build it up to perfection
Till it no longer stands true
Only then will I be able to escape the memory
The sweetness in your eyes
When the You that I so clearly see
Becomes an other person with time
My dubiously protagonist Self
outgrows toward a co-invested
cooperative
co-governing center
A core UnWhite House communication center
Tao training for sacred positive
and trauma negation memories
Into ecologically
and economically
Right whole open
PanenTheistic MacroEconomic Intelligence
Amping up
co-relational win/win choices
through unconditional regard
of global
inside/outside co-discernment
voiced human choices
Ego AnthroPrivileged
by secularizing LeftHemisphere
health and safety cooperative wants
evolving old tired competitive addictive needs
to defend revolutionary
evolutionary win/lose theories
that predation is normative
whether in a win/win thrival opportunity
or in a win/lose risk to survival time
Not mentioning
survive together to thrive
communal co-empathic
win/win imaginations
empowering enlightened co-governance
animating long-term resilience histories
My intimately win/win highest and best
co-redemption narratives
feel like a sacred housed cooperative
trauma-free awareness
and copassionate intent
to live together EarthTribe curiously,
yet confidently,
win/win animated
sacredly together
On, but not overpowering,
my cusp of traumatic anxiety triggers
and co-therapeutic anticipated compassions
together deepending mutually co-invested
ownership and co-therapeutic
natural health and spiritual safety
intent
Calls my sacred housing cooperative images
merging projects for
and from
cooperative nondogmatic experiences
comforted by food and energy
nurturing resilience
Appreciating river-front environmental green
and clean
co-relational preservation
not at all bully mean
Historical-multicultural
Right-sacred/Left-secularizing
co-discernment spirit-mind/nature-body skills
of cooperative
co-governing communications
For green compassionate resilience
reproducing inside imaged
EarthPeace therapeutic homes
and panentheistic gardens
in/out-sided
wellness-rounded
competing mortal space
throughout immortal time
for EarthTribe's health-cultural
co-responsive resonance.
Sunshine and Showers
Gardener stands with a watering can,
in hand. Sunshine and showers begin
with a drizzle on forgotten flowers,
refresh from the rain showers.
Patience, time doth thy beauty does also grow,
always very slow, sunshine does show.
Gardener towers with song during evening hours, shy,
it lightly falls, rain from the sky.
On summer's windswept day,
creation took clean away.
On faces so fondly strain,
up towards the sunshine rain.
Through lacy and delicate Lilac tree,
showers wet the bowers familiar filigree.
It's ever rare, and wondrous there,
the summer sun dries each upturn faces, it does dare.
Garden's magic, through the sunny hours
tend outgrows his flowers
and hid away from his divine
gardener, tends to shine.
2/20/2018
Good news
grows healthy outward actions
from inward integrity attractions.
Pathological propaganda,
fake news,
grows conspiracies
and black magic outside my door,
From unconscious accidents of ignorant mistrust
and deliberately mendacious distrust.
Good news plantings,
waterings,
fertilizing outcomes
harvest polycultures of healthy wisdom--
more good hope-filled news.
Fake news evermore outgrows paranoid
fake absence of historic news,
lack of weed discernment,
drought of PositivEnergy,
toxic salt and bleach
build sick subclimates,
monocultural worship
desecrating MotherEarth's healthy karmic grace
with more red Ego Outrage,
anthro-centric bad win/lose business
trending toward lose/lose
absence of secular LeftTruth
and sacred RightBeauty
gospels.
For example,
Today, in the USA,
declares FakeNews Incorporated,
Donald John saved everybody
in the whole world
from the horrors of Green EcoTherapeutic Cooperatives
restoring Health/Wealth News--
Positive organic energy
devaluing derision of evermore deflating
FakeNews competitions for market share.
Yes,
that,
AND Donald John saved no one
currently living on RealTime PlanetEarth
with contagious bliss of more Integrity
through RightBrain ego entertainments
observing adrenaline-soaked
over-heated competing subclimates
of pathological Fake Busyness
pushing nothing healthy--
merely more WinLose
trending toward LoseLose devolution,
counter-revolutionary absence of anything
PositivEnergy newsworthy.
Gospel narratives
grow healthy multicultural salvific actions
from Left with Right integrity attractions.