Best People Poems | Poetry
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New People Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best People poems are below this new poems list.
by Baker, Charlie
Loneliness would be so much easier if there was not so many people
by QUIGLEY, CHRISTOPHER
Growed Up People
by Ellison, Jack
We, The People, We Are ONE
by Donnelly, Artsieladie Sharon
The Beautiful People
by Krutsinger, Caren
by Roberson, Alex
Misogynist homophobic people need to stop
by Raynes, Lewis
We Are All Colored People
by Vitale, Mario
Evidence Seized and People Pleased
by Horn, James
The Way People Are
by bauer, ilene
View all new People Poems
The Best People Poems
I wish to be with the broken people
the get in your face challenge me people
The sometimes hidden
sitting in a dark corner kinda people
The don't you love me
I wish you seen me sorta people
People just being real people
not having to have it all together people
Them doing their best to figure it out people
dancing and singing without the smooth moves people
I don't care about the color of their skin
or what others think of as their sin
They don't need to be perfect to win
seeing and listening is where I'll begin
Beyond appearance of fat or thin
I only know what I know
I've never been where they've been.
with our broken smiles
It's the best we've got
It might seem like so little
still I think it's a lot
Through life's struggles we've all fought
lessons needed learning
experienced not taught
real is real it couldn't be bought
So forget the fake people
the all about perfect hair and clothes people
The I live in the right neighborhood and drive the right car people
It's all about me, top of the hill people
They only hang out with the supremely cool people
those too important to talk to me people
thinking they're the best of the best kinda people
when all along they are merely Sheeple
ba ba baaing, thinking they are strong instead of feeble
I love characters
people who are unique
I look under exteriors to gain a peek
strength of lions disguised in meek
unconcearned with fab or being chic
Worth listening to if allowed to speak
the stories they tell will make your eyes leak
For in the end
we are all broken
stumbling and choking
Disguising hurt with our joking
victims of others and their poking
So look close maybe you'll see
eyes that aren't blank
hearts that aren't empty
Who we think of as complicated
in the end might not be
They might push when others come close
yet they are affectionate times three
Each just a bit afraid and broken
all the while wishing
and wanting to be
A part of something
If only we choose to see
those on the fringes
are a part of the we
All we have to do
is let them be!
Dedicated to our homeless population.
They teach us the unvarnished truth about ourselves.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.
I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
clichés, and repetition; I fall in love
with items that people throw to the wind,
kick around, and step upon.
I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn;
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.
The old man who sits in a rain-gorged gutter,
his fist raised to the sky in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly, beloved wife—
I fall in love with him too.
I fall in love with things that some people deem
as ugly, dirty, morose, and immoral.
The more I fall in love,
the more I love each moment,
including the pain, torture, and misery
that may unfold along the way.
Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.
If I write down treasonously teetering words,
the reader could assume such words
to be rooted in rage, or a cynical outlook,
when the words are actually birthed from love—
I love every word in existence.
I fall in love with the woman
who is too shy to have a sincere conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be grotesque,
when in fact, she is exquisitely gorgeous.
I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of seaweed
rotting on the shore, and the way her hair smells
baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
mesmerized by the essence that the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat, who, after she watched the moving truck
drive away, slunk around the alley in search of scraps—
over the years, she has proven to be a respectful
and loyal companion (so easy to fall in love with, again and again,
while maintaining the love I already have).
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms
when it shines through the cracked, antique windowpane
that I simply don't want to replace.
And as for the people who believe that it's impossible
for someone such as myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day,
well, I love them too.
2016 Pulse Remix, July 18th, 2016
(original version was written on April 6th, 2012)
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012
and the porch light hums
the sound of another
Burnt up – crisp
aching new reaches
of the imagination turn
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
Sweeping ‘cross in whispers
two thousand years
and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
like a red cat's eye marble
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
and forth -
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm
by another set of ears,
in some other when –
some other marble.
When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth
Night sounds come in floods
and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
where no ears hear.
The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment,
The girl turns to face
of all she has yet to hear upon
the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps
on the skin
that God gave her;
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
breathing in the dawn
as it breaks.
The farm notes this coming.
The sky knows;
The wind knows.
The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,
breathing through this land;
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
and through into another’s
© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
It’s only the good that die young.
I sadly have found it seems true.
While evil across earth is flung,
God’s purest of souls are too few.
I sadly have found it seems true
the wicked live long past their prime.
God’s purest of souls are too few.
On earth they live but a short time.
The wicked live long past their prime.
The goodly to heaven do go.
On earth they live but a short time.
The sun shines on the righteous though!
The goodly to heaven do go,
while evil across earth is flung.
The sun shines on the righteous. . . though
It’s only the good that die young!
Written April 12, 2016 for The sun shines on the righteous Poetry Contest of Seren Roberts
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
**Back smile/smile Back **
With your heads way up your :]ssa[:
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease,
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well,
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage
With progressive mental retardation
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips
He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in,
The madness in Alice's Wonderland
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle,
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs
Cross My heart and hope to die!!!
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
Where Have All The Pretty Poets Gone?
A real poet are you, charismatic over everything you serve
Showcasing, a rainbow that folds the perfect world wide perspective
I'm talking about flawless literature at its best no typos, no muss
Just a page full of boredom and rust
Thank you for having Lunesta all up in my head
It's like reading a poetry lesson, from the extras of The Walking Dead
An image frozen cold, waiting for inspiration to hit like Al Capone
I'm bored of your flora flamboyant language rocking me like stones
A psychedelic trip, into the odyssey of a blind man's tale
A home where I am pushed to open a dictionary & thesaurus with braille
Wondering what you just said, --Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful day!
The best rocket pen poet in the USA Today,
Launching words like no tomorrow, a fool of wordplay and sorrow
A godlike guinea-pig genius, delegating poetry politician style
Perhaps, one day you will become a famous writer
Burning books, like a cigarette lighter
Until then, enjoy pushing your pen as if it was cocaine,
Snorting up and cutting up the food chain in vain
Patronizing and ignoring those, for better or worse
A solo cup stuck up another cup, -won't even look my way
Correct me if you will, it's no big deal
Just don't forget to give me the same respect I offer you
Until then my pretty poetic friend, I kneel before no one
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
I'm leaving now, but here is a reminder
'Twill bring to you the days we walked through rain
So when you wish to feel my hand in yours
Or stroke your dripping hair-- Then kiss the rain
Though leaving now, I wish I could be with you
So when you feel o'erwhelmed with grief or pain
And long for my caress upon your face,
The rain will touch instead-- So kiss the rain
Whenever you have tho'ts of this sad parting
And salty tears your lovely cheeks do stain
To feel the tears for you I'll surely have
Do this, and I will too-- Go kiss the rain
Whenever you are longing for my presence
And times that we went strolling down the lane
I'll whisper soft endearments on the breeze
So heed the sighing wind-- And kiss the rain
If ever you should pine to hear me speaking
The thunder might burst forth with glorious main*
While drops that fall are sure to be my tears,
To feel them wet your skin-- Just kiss the rain
* Power or Force
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013
Daddy never did understand.
That violence doesnt bring comfort.
A lost soul seeking acceptance from a unwelcome hand.
She was silent no one ever knew.
The secrets behind her bruised eyes.
A shocking victem none but all had a clue.
She cried to empty walls never speaking aloud from fear.
A confession of pain and shattred trust.
this is only what angles hear.
Scars selfinflicted are better than that
As she lays a broken shell gazing at the celling.
She questions if others know what will they say.
Doing whatever it takes to stay numb.
Innocence lost a parent should never betray.
The guilt was placed apon the wrong head.
Void of all emotion.
No child should yern to be dead.
At times it gets to uncomfortable so in
another direction we steer.
For at times it's just to painful to stomach.
What only angles hear.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
This girl, she's crying inside,
But all everyone sees is smiles,
This girl, she's hurting inside,
She's lived like this for quite a while,
Always holding her pain inside,
She won't ruin everyone's time,
This girl, she's breaking down inside,
But all she does is smile,
Those deep eyes,
Hold a lot world of misery,
Playing pictures from her mind,
Showing her past, her history,
She doesn't want to remember,
But the memories continue to play,
Every night she prays,
Wishing them away,
But this girl lies with her laugh,
And hides behind a mask,
So that no-one can see her pain,
Her past, her denials,
This girl, she's dying inside,
Although no-one can see her pain,
She just continues to smile bright,
From day to everyday,
With beautiful lying eyes,
For everyone to see,
Everyone and anyone,
Everyone but me.
Copyright © Loretta Bailey | Year Posted 2011
God is all colours
And He is no colour,
For He lives in the black
And He lives in the white.
He lives in the mixed,red
Olive, brown and yellow,
For He lives in the heart
Where colours out of sight.
God is all creeds
And he is no creed.
He lives in the Muslim
And He lives in the Jew.
He's there in the Hindu,
The Christian, the Buddhist.
In all true believers
And the doubters too-
So why all this predjudice
Because of colour?
Why all this thinking
There's a chosen race?
Why are we fighting
In the name of religion?
When surely God wears
Every human face.
Man has differences
Man has opinions.
That is the way
The human race is run.
God is only ONE GOD
However we see him.
He's one for all,
So that all can be ONE.
Copyright © SYLVIA Coulstock | Year Posted 2010
Life and cigarettes burn to fast.
We waste are time.
So within the moment you bask.
A pretty face has to age.
Every story meets it's final page.
When life breaks you over its cost.
Then you'll sing a lullaby to the lost.
The lights in the street hide all but the truth my
You can act.
But you can never mask your fear.
In dark rooms you sell all but your soul.
A wicked moment a stolen encounter.
All things take there toll.
That sweet face has tuirned hard your so warm
to be cold.
A secret that the bitter have already told.
Can you wash away there stench as from
the past you are tossed.
In dark corners blood stained angles
sing a lullaby to the lost.
Is this hell or a nightmare that knows no end.
A cell to most.
To others the only refuge inwhich they
she falls to the floor a lost look needle
Most will rememeber a doomed fool.
Others her wreckless charm.
She was a junkie and a easy lay.
More bones are broken.
Over words others say.
She sold flesh but payed the ultimate
In a dingy corner of th world.
Were the angles sing a lullaby to the lost.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
*5th Place winner
Copyright © Aiyah Torres | Year Posted 2014
we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
fall for nothing
may stumble along the trip
may swerve at the wheel yet
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
Bestowed with femininity,
wisdom, elegance, and grace,
daughter of the human race.
X chromosome integrity
ordains attributes endowed,
according by propensity,
a nature kind and proud.
Beauty and vitality
anoint her noble gender,
magnum opus artistry
imparts celestial splendor.
Her marvelous complexity
gives complementary disposition
to valiant masculinity
for a perfect coalition.
yields licentious pleasure due
the wanton sensuality
of erotic pas de deux.
woman becomes by thy behest,
sacred vessel of posterity,
with honor ever blessed.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
Walking alone past the reeds blowing lace,
Stroking the oak by the old wooden gate,
Guided by trust to my lovers embrace,
Pouring my heart into leaves as they bate
Wind into dancing as feet hesitate,
Just long enough to find rhythm, I trace
Patterns in air as the pollen creates -
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...
Sky paints a picture for moon in dark space,
Vast driven oceans of life demonstrate
Love for the mountainous deserts displaced,
Each born anew, by the wind to its fate -
Seamless infinity’s natural state,
Is seeing your eyes on another’s kind face
And Finding forgiveness for those who breed hate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace
Out in the sun as light seeks out its place,
Faith comes to breathe as it encapsulates
Bodies of men where his truth is encased,
Dreamers whose dreams become true and innate,
Their journey is hard but rewarding and great
Where love can be found but cannot be replaced
And words that when written just right captivate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...
Each breath I breathe makes me appreciate
How beautiful life is, how rich and how chaste -
Nature’s perfection is light incarnate,
Fair is the face of the Lords given grace...
copyright Kristin Reynolds 2008
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2008
Authored by Chuck Keys
It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.
There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically
It wasn't here or there and it was.
With no distinction,
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.
It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.
In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.
The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."
Differences exist for differences,
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.
Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010
I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the years started to come and go I fell in love with the wind
I would open myself big and wide swaying to the music of my friend
My rings became many and my bark was as red as red could be
Then the day finally came I was the tallest of the tallest trees
I stood tall and I stood proud and everyone knew my name
As my rings continued recording my destiny to fame
Then the fateful day it came my friend and I had a fight
Looking back I can't recall who was wrong or right
I said, "You are but the wind something people can't even see"
" And I'm the king of them all the tallest of the tallest trees"
That night the wind started to howl she really started to blow
And I the tallest of all the trees learned we reap what we sow
My roots struggled to hold on tight but without a soul around
She who had been my dearest friend knocked me to the ground
The loggers came and cut me up then shipped me away
To my soul that truly was a sad and lonely day
Torn from all I knew and loved wishing I didn't have to feel
I was cut into boards and post down at the local mill
Now I'm back here at home just a few feet away
From where my friend the wind and I used to dance and play
I'm the deck on which you stand I lay below your feet
There is a bench made of me would you care to have a seat
Sometimes in life our roles change just take a look at me
The trick is no matter who are what you are be all you can be
See I was once a little twig who became a mighty tree
And now I'm a redwood deck as proud as proud can be
And of my friend the wind she visits me everyday
So I can thank her once again for helping me find my way
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
” You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars.”
We put down roots
and bear our fruits.
With dear offshoots,
we are like trees.
Stars wink their eye,
burn bright and die.
No asking why -
we are like these!
Written for the Desiderata Poetry Contest of nette onclaud
Now for the Any Old Poem #5 contest of Skat
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
You, most desirable bride among
Your suitors many have been throughout
In every part of the world, you were the one
They were after
You declined their proposals, despite the fact
All suitors, to charm you they have tried,
With great honors and by putting your name
Next to theirs, to allure you to sanctify their
The totalitarians and
Have declared themselves your fervent
Admirers, your ardent devotees to you and to
Your eternal principles
By wrapping themselves in your
Heavenly gown and calling themselves your
But you unyielding remained
You knew that no one has succeeded to measure up
To the ideals your wise father, SOLON,** has set
And to the glorious values with which he
Nurtured you, those superb principles:
Of lack of self interest
Of the paramount devotion to
The common good and the happiness
Of the people you serve!
It is for that reason, you, oh Democracy,
Seldom have shown any favoritism to any of
Your suitors, for all fell short of
Your lofty aspirations
You were, unfortunately, for very
Lengthy periods of time mistreated, neglected, subjugated and
Exploited by your pretenders:
The power thirsty
The war mongers
The money seekers,
Chose to ignore all that you stood for and
Disregarded the common good and the
Happiness of the people they supposed to serve
For to promote their own interest and those of
Ruining the chances of any true democratic
Society to be established
For that reason, oh Democracy, I understand you now
Why a spinster, you, have chosen to
© Demetrios Trifiatis
16 OCTOBER 2014
* Democracy is the combination of two words: Demos and Cratos . Demos means the People and Cratos means Power so Democracy means “ Power to the People.” It will be helpful to read my poem “ THE BIRTH OF DEMOCRACY” for a better understanding.
**The concept of Democracy is deeply rooted in the Greek Psyche! We see it in the Mythology where Zeus, the supreme God, is just “first among equals” Then appears in Homer’s poems but the father of Democracy is asserted to be Solon, the Athenian who was one of the seven wise men of old. Solon, 7th –6th centuries B.C. was the theoretician that established Democracy. Solon considered the pillars of Democracy to be Justice and Virtue. So every politician should be Just and virtuous and his main objective would be to safeguard the wellbeing and happiness of the people and that of the state's plus the wealth to be distributed justly among the citizens. Knowledge, responsibility, self-control, self knowledge, sacrifice, equality, had do be characteristics of every citizen. Plato said that “Virtue worth as much as all gold that is possessed by all people put together and all gold that is still in the ground.” To that Aristotle added that “ every politician has to be forged on the anvil of virtue.”
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014
Color me white, or color me black. Color
me brown, or color me red. Color me
yellow, but color me to be just me.
Color me anyway you want. You are the
artist, you know what to do, just capture
my beauty and let it show through.
My beauty is not on the outside for everyone
to see. My beauty comes from within and
few people have seen.
Color me with the colors that you so much
love to use and when people see this painting,
they will see themselves in me.
The people will ask you - why did you put so
many colors on me and you will tell them - because
the beauty I did see.
The painting is now finished, the artist has done
his job. A painting of many colors, that he is very
The colors bring beauty to the painting on the
wall, but if we were all colored blind - we wouldn't
see any colors at all...
Copyright: written by
Lucilla M. Carrillo
I wrote this poem because through out life
I have seen a lot of injustice done, because
of who we are , or where we came from. We
did not choose to be who we are, or where
we came from. God chose that for us. I don't
think God made a mistake when He made us.
He had His reasons. We are who we are, that
can never be changed. We live in this world.
We are God's Race...
Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2012
India (Original Poem)
I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.
I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.
I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray
That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.
This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.
When they learn this knowledge
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.
India (New Poem)
Handed down through the ages,
India's Gods and Goddesses call
Out to me from sacred places.
I want to bathe in Ganges waters,
Be there when monsoons arrive,
View Holi's colors on happy faces.
I wish to absorb all the beauty,
Mix with all the friendly people
And sing in celebration's song.
I want to enjoy the festive music
And watch the dancers dancing,
I wish to truly feel that I belong.
I'd revere every God and Goddess,
Have respect for all Gods I know not.
I'd love to learn of Ganesha's power.
I want to meditate in floral gardens
Contemplate by reflective pools...
Connect my spirit to the Lotus flower.
I would take my small camera with me
And shoot all the sights and sounds,
Share my heart with natives blissfully.
I'd love to share in children's laughter.
Share my thoughts and culture too.
I'd treasure my time in India eternally.
Famous Last Line
March 9, 2016
Holi, the Festival of Colors. Holi is celebrated as a welcoming of Spring, and a celebration of the triumph of good over evil. What that translates to in action is an enthusiastic dropping of inhibitions, as people chase each other and playfully splash colorful paint, powder and water on each other. People also attend bonfires to commemorate the story of Prahlada.
Hindus consider the waters of the Ganga to be both pure and purifying. Nothing reclaims order from disorder more than the waters of the Ganga. Moving water, as in a river, is considered purifying in Hindu culture because it is thought to both absorb impurities and take them away. What the Ganga removes, however, is not necessarily physical dirt, but symbolic dirt; it wipes away the sins of the bather, not just of the present, but of a lifetime.
He is the Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. He is also worshipped as the god of education, knowledge, wisdom and wealth. In fact, Ganesha is one of the five prime Hindu deities (Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and Durga being the other four) whose idolatry is glorified as thepanchayatana puja.
The Lotus, the national flower of India, is a symbol of supreme reality. Hindu religion and mythology portray goddess Saraswathi, the muse of learning, as being seated on a lotus flower. To the Indian psyche, the lotus is more than a flower – it represents both beauty and non-attachment. There is a saying that although it grows in mud, it smells of myrrh. Toru Dutt in her sonnet “The Lotus” addresses the flower as the “queenliest flower that blows.”
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
A whole new twist to the same old story
Evil scientist in their laboratories
Creating monsters that live in the night
I often reflect on mankind's plight
As mankind drifts further from his soul
We seek things to fill the hole
The path of lies forever bends
Truth is straight and narrow my friends
As I see it getting bent in every way
I simply find myself compelled to pray
What will become of our sons and daughters
Will their souls be led to slaughter
As scientist seek out another way
To disprove what the bible has to say
Trillions spent in search of a ghost
Another theory of true reproach
Rainbow stars now fill the skies
I wonder what is hidden inside their lies
We can now place a robot up on Mars
But can't help the drunk at the local bar
Trillions more spent on a new space station
But we can't feed the hungry right here in our nation
Seems to me before we go further conquering space
We should maybe try to help out the human race
Our quest for knowledge has drove us insane
We are now so smart we don't use our brain
Our nation was founded "In God We Trust"
Our government says "Let it be covered in dust"
Even this lowly creature up out of the pen
Knows in his heart that thats a sin
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.
As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.
This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.
Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left.
So, now, I had plans!
But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.
A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.
She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.
Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Cause I never did like clowns.
After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.
She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.
So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout.
There she is.
Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.
Now it’s my turn.
With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.
She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.
As if she read my mind,
“Are you feeling warm now?”
“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.
But, “Now I am”, is uttered.
As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.
As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.
These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.
I locked myself out of my heart.
I turned around to go back inside.
Only to discover,
she didn’t have the key.
© Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2010
"When humanity becomes louder than love, stay out of its way. At times, it's better to be the lion in the distance, rather than the sheep losing their way...again."
This was the 1st time
I felt out of place.
Its impact mimicked abused parallelograms
Unto emptiness’ solution
I witness sliced wrists shedding bohemian smiles.
Latching onto anchors of invalid mo(u)rning
There was no sunrise to be found,
Because humanity kept making love to silhouetted blinders
I was surrounded by shovels
For the sake of digging louder messages’ trench
Caress incipient wings
And half-full Windex bottles
Just to keep perception from clouding my lyrics
Because nobody wants to see eye to eye…
…cataract-laced speeches permeate tainted whispers
Of an innocent breath
For B-rated serendipity
Oh, this was the 1st time
I felt out of place.
Turning away from windowed afflictions
To step towards gratitude’s breath
No longer looking in
How good it feels.
Yet, I still miss my friends.
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2014