Best Perpetuation Poems
Amidst the vortex of empty time, going back a calumnious climb,
To change a love my only crime, sweet surrender of life sublime…
The Time Machines are ready still, sending me back upon my will,
To gain back love I shall fulfill, amongst meadows of the daffodil.
Evaporating reflections in my eyes, hands of time turning clockwise,
May the love we had apprise, as I look at the darkened distant skies…
The stars align for I await and the planets rebuttal in their debate,
The Time Keepers guard the gate, within their arms I leave my fate.
In perpetuation of times expanse, chronological clocks in romance,
Cupid’s arrow is ready to lance, while my heart prepares to dance…
I approach my love once more, will their love palpitate with a pour,
Guardians of time open their door as I awake out of bed on the floor.
Oct.07.2019
...turn back the hands of time
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Categories:
perpetuation, change, lost love, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Spoke to a cloud today –
the usual conversation
about shape and size,
lows and highs...whether
my need to tote a handy, spring
loaded umbrella...or a better chance
to go without pants, dance
on the beach ~ showing off
thighs, widening sockets
of older generational eyes – he
told me of clouds who gather and
threaten, causing ships to leap into
salty lather, sailors beware!
take battened-down care! – schools
of fishes diving to ocean depths
they share, with ancient vessels (and sewage),
a seafloor covered with sandy
coinage – a diver's delight; when
stormed into sight –
more subjects of our chatter
and debates, were those of tides
and tectonic plates; also of bony-splatter:
living shrapnel, from a well aimed cannon-ball
against a wooden hull, or artillery shell,
man's modern perpetuation, of that never
settling, always heartening seafarer's knell –
I went on to ask, if in all his travels, had
he ever seen anything truly divine?
Like an angel passing...or a saucer
flying...perhaps some mythical dragon
soaring, trying to lasso down a tasty
moon ~ bring him brightly closer,
doing some dragon flips, salivating
for cheesie fondue lips....
Categories:
perpetuation, humanity, people, perspective, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
Beyond the Black Fence
By Sy Roth
The land lay fallow
Beyond the black fence.
Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes
Lush in summer months
Deer speckled backdrop
Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage
And black birds rested on the scrub
Coupled with the land and each other
A fornucopia of perpetuation.
But like time
It marched in to war on its own turf--
The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures
Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt
That wild (plants?) draped over
And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders
Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush
And the deer fled
And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops
And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters
Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood
Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race.
Incessant noise of change
A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm
On the other side of the black fence
My side where I find comfort in a book
And a drink to whet my appetite
And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was
And the hoary land that once was my winter vista
Categories:
perpetuation, angst,
Form:
Free verse
darkness, like Jonah
held in the belly of the whale,
the end of a world;
closed-in time in dark spaces -
gives one, a hell of a time to think
in the belly of the whale
grew a whole world,
longer than 3 days and 3 nights,
the construction took finesse
and dare one say, a gauche fearlessness
to unravel that ball of light
eject it out of her universe
like a supernova,
like a titian haired prodigy,
far from easy, ostentum
to accumulate the life of it all
extend the regeneration in kind,
of a generational call -
each time an infant cries,
the occupant in an infant is re-borne;
they say, it will take
3 days and 3 nights -
to destroy it all -
the end of an unprepared
naive world -
who keeps tabs on the betting
of it all, the end of a world?
there’s always 2 sides to a game -
the dimensions, levels all endless,
split and perplex;
in your arms today, gone tomorrow,
the love and the purpose stolen,
the end of a world -
the cycle sometimes broken -
yet the perpetuation of life,
for all its worth -
continues,
light and dark
some more light,
some more dark,
some sit on the fence
in the middle, in-between;
the end of a world?
they say shooting nuclear rockets
into the Moon’s shadow
could be a valid reason
to collect unknown dark matter -
dark matter resides in us all -
why target the Moon and the Sun,
when we have bountiful supplies
within us all, human, here in this world?
all Jonahs, at some point, we are -
inside the belly of the whale
the internal infernal wars
of us all,
perhaps she thinks ...
she should cry like Jonah,
hmmn, not anymore buster, not anymore
she’s had a life time
to think on it all,
mull it all over -
more and more
the rise and the fall,
but, she doesn’t cry anymore
the philosophy
the mathematics
of the metaphysical
revolution takes over -
the futile banality of it all;
ostentum
the occurrences,
foreshadowing future events
borne from the belly of a whale
the ostentum,
goes about freely, now
watched from afar,
by the love of another,
uneclipsed,
in her own world
like a child
watched by a loving mother
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
perpetuation, birth, child, dark, light,
Form:
Free verse
Harvest of Mind
by Odin Roark
Acres of mirrors
Reflecting yesterdays upon today
Refracting wisdom’s tundra of experience
Into regret's abstract lessons.
How flexible
This mind of bendable energy,
Linking limbotic senses
Into a synaptic playground
Where one’s child-like recess plays perpetual.
Discovery beckons,
Hoeing brain’s porous marl
Bearing not the sweat of work,
Rather seedling’s preparation,
The cultivation of pain and sorrow’s rich compost,
The irrigation of past years’ yield,
That foundation of trial and error’s natural reward.
As each day's light finds horizon’s solace,
We slumber into mind’s picturesque growth,
Participating in collage-dreams,
Challenging synaptic connections
Smiling or crying,
Winning or losing,
We either concede as spectator
Or become a player,
A harvester of continuance,
The perpetuation of cognition’s daily bread.
Yes
‘Tis wondrous property we carry about.
Respected, it thrives.
Neglected, it weeds.
Rejected…
But a fossil-in-the-making.
Categories:
perpetuation, character,
Form:
Free verse
Whys and Hows
by Odin Roark
Through the window of rain spattered glass,
The old vet watched the large ant cling to the precipitous bombardment,
It’s tenacity of will overwhelming to the man’s eyes.
Why fight so diligently?
Why not let go?
You know how to land,
Endure your journey,
Continue the unceasing perpetuation of your species.
Obviously, the little creature understood something
Beyond the scope of the aging man’s comprehension,
Or perhaps the small creature just instinctively trusted mortality,
Had a clear and uncomplicated ‘why’ of life
Allowing any ‘how’ to just…be.
Slowly nurturing his espresso,
The elderly Marine continued staring,
Determined to arrive at an answer.
His mind wandered back to his youth
Where the meaning of life was taken for granted,
Where the indomitable mindset
Was the norm for any red-blooded young adult,
Especially one about to join in a war.
He asked himself if he had ever challenged a force that might destroy him?
Had he even once just allowed the many ‘why go on’ experiences of his life
To give him pause, like the loss of a limb…or two,
Or if the toll of war broke up his marriage-in-waiting relationship,
And especially the loss of a buddy to death?
Had he allowed any one of the life-threatening events to reveal itself
As a ‘how’ answer to ‘why’?
He sipped the last of his coffee,
Smiled at the ant,
Tapped the window
And saluted the small epiphany,
Who now seemed to weigh its options,
Then calmly walk through the rolling boulders of rain…
Maybe to find another ‘how?' the once fearless warrior questioned.
He held his gaze and tried to figure out
How the ant seemed so comfortable
Climbing up the pane of cascading rain,
Rather than just riding out the downward flow.
Hmm.
Categories:
perpetuation, life,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Women of age
A woman of age popped in last night.
The garden had become wet, might
this gardener – willing yet weak – plane seeds
into where nothing grows, not even weeds.
For this aged garden, has become barren.
No amount of passion nor patient caren
will be able to make life sprout or grow.
This, the garden and gardener doth know,
that when sweet seeds – needs – are sown,
reality comes to light and all is known.
They will come to an end without fertilization.
This awareness, this knowledge, their realization,
that life’s true meaning has ended – procreation,
a dead issue, has become life’s - no perpetuation –
meaning for these tired, aged, lost souls
who’s time has stilled, it no longer flows
from this garden, yet this gardener doth strain
for what will remain - their immortality, never again
from them to create a new – life’s force to remain.
No longer will they provide new souls for this plane.
From these two, never a story to be told
for they travel down a different road.
Each, on a separate journey, to end
their days, do they, still call each, friend ?
There are so many ideas, points of view, thought
about life’s meaning, so what is it ?, that is taught
by the lessons we have learn ?, the wars fought,
that have brought us closer, yet maybe not
to the understanding of mankind’s existence,
the meaning of humanity ?, or its relevance
to the world we live on, continue destroying.
We are but a disease ?, a virus ?, reaching out, deploying.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 26th 2006
Categories:
perpetuation, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
I found myself
Wandering across
A dreamscape
That was not my own;
And wondering
About the many
Dreamscapes of
The wanderers,
Suddenly seeing
That I was wandering
The dreamscape of
The wonderers of
The wanderers
That still wonder;—
A dreamscape
All my own and
Still not mine.
I found myself
Moseying with
The meanderers;
Found we were
Bound by an
Identical path,
One of us being
Leisurely, the
Other clueless.
Me, moseying,
Smelled the rose
Of the meanderer,
Who, meandering,
Saw me moseying
And assumed
I simply walked
Slowly; he also
Failed to see
That he held
A flower in his
Unmindful hand.
I found myself
Sleepwalking
Amongst the
Somnambulists,
Questioning their
Dreamscapes,
Why wandering
Them apparently
Was pleasing.
And they cursed
Me, declaring,
"What can a
"Sleepwalker
"Know about
"Somnambulism?"
So I found myself
Sleepwalking
Amongst the
Somnambulists,
The somnambulists
somnambulating
Over us
Sleepwalkers'
Heads, demanding
We succumb
To the greater
Mindful power.
I found myself
Graveled by
The grovelers—
Irritated by
The peasants.
The grovelers,
They grovel for
Me not to be
Graveled at
Their mistakes.
Yet the mistake
Is the groveling
At the graveled;
And how graveled
At the grovelers
I am. It is a circular
Conversation—
The grovelers
Shall die in
The dungeons
Of the graveled,
Trapped in
Perpetuation.
Categories:
perpetuation, humor, words,
Form:
Alliteration
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
Suyash Saxena
St. Stephen’s College.
Categories:
perpetuation, absence, adventure, age, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
[ edit poem ]
Life Is What Happens
What a long, strange life it’s been.
Childhood and adolescence were close to normal,
I never felt quite right,
Never fit my image of a normal kid.
Dealing with internal demons for so many years.
Adolescence was hell,
The frigging dybbuks took control
Internally screaming, “your not good enough”, “your dirt”,
Externally, manifesting as cystic acne, ugly, festering sores.
Then long hair, drugs and rock n roll.
Feelings of compassion, and forgiveness.
For awhile the voices got quieter,
Infrequent periods of contentment,
First love, and then the Voices were back.
Alcohol, anger, self-hatred,
Move away! Leave L.A.!
Transplant to Sonoma County
Twenty-three years old, alone, frightened.
A period of relief, enjoyment, discovery.
The search had begun!
A time of growth, feelings of great love,
for life, for spirit, for myself.
Politics grabs hold,
Open to new friends,
Seeing myself as worthy to be loved.
Christine, daughter of the Motor City,
Nancy Marie, the wild one,
And then she picked me up hitchhiking.
How do you measure a life?
Marriage, children, many good years.
But the demons reappear,
This time as a progressive, degenerative disease
I watch the life I thought I knew, disintegrate little by little,
until I’m stripped close to the bone,
And I watch!
Three decades spent creating a structure,
A way of being, a persona, a box,
In which to place all our preconceptions
About love, family, commitment, hopes and dreams.
Like Schopenhauer’s “Will to Live”, life moves on,
Refusing to address the petty personal dreams, wishes, and prayers
Focusing instead on the perpetuation of a far less then perfect species
--Updated 1/25/2013
Categories:
perpetuation, bereavement, emotions, life, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
Bodhisattvas turn airflow into flames,
water into Earth
as Jesus turned baptismal waters
into blood red rivers
of warm nutritious wine.
Bodhisattvas,
like Messiah prophets and saints,
long for
belong to
the baptismal political economy
of cooperative ecotherapeutic waters,
as yin flows air MidWay notnot pathological
through Yang's Great Transitional flames
ecstatically leaping,
empowerment "hungry"
for air's co-arising health-optimizing
embrace
as ReGeneration
balance evolving waves
of neuro-conscious language
logos thoughts
deeper mythos feelings
inviting ecological ethos.
When our political voices become too didactic
we listen wiser for more lyrically cooperative outputs
with denser harmonics,
singing and dancing in
bilateral resonant appositionals
polycultures
polypaths
optimally nurturing ego/eco-health perpetuation,
regenerative yang/yin dipolarity
of deep wealth EarthTribe.
While these singers and dancers
disconcert their way
maintaining (0)-investment PlaceHolder mentations,
SpaceTime Unitarian-Integral Occupation,
unbiassed polypathic attention
to neuro/eco-systemic ethics
and shared bipartisan norms
and co-invested political cooperative values
Natural communion economies of cooperation with Other
v competition for sufficient compassionate time
to heal threats to politically dense wealth outcomes
These are all held in Common Symbolic Messages
as invitations to positive individual freedom development
of positive values
with nutritionally regenerative purpose
emerging future Bodhisattva Co-ReGenerators
Composed of past,
and disposed toward future, healthy love
of neuro/eco-passionate balancing
fractal mind enlightenment
and dialectical body empowerment
Where red flame
of dawn's Earth matriarchal warning
meets red fears
of long dark-swept patriarchal past.
Categories:
perpetuation, earth, earth day, health,
Form:
Political Verse
Slavery
enslavement
force of self-imposed ownership
overpowering another's ego-ownership,
anthro-morbid,
collective ego-morphic tolerance of identity rape,
fear and anger, together building hate,
from which enslavement derives;
a culturally camouflaged nondual co-arising relationship
of codependent despair,
self-hatred.
Enslaving force perpetuates Ego's full-blown angry reduction
in self-identity,
deduction of self,
as someone who could "own" another's Ego-healthy will
for equivalent freedom from my freedom
to enslave another's life,
exterior and interior.
Slave and poverty development owners
internally enslaved by our own hypocritical hubris,
swimming upstream into economically encrusted perpetuation
of cognitive and affective dissonance,
chronic anxious homelessness,
hopelessness that I cannot afford to be more co-empathic,
healthier on my own,
than we are together
on Earth's owner-ship.
Those nations,
corporations,
families,
individuals
addicted to retaining
and further developing
vastly disproportionate wealth deposits,
divorced from our own cooperative health and well-being investments,
not only steal from those without enough to thrive,
but also slink away from our own collective mental health,
anxiously fearing freedom's inevitable reparations,
struggling to repress awareness of nondual codependent enslavement
into entropic death of species.
Hatred combines anger about past with fear of future.
"Anger Management" politics might choose a more transparent therapeutic label,
"Hatred Co-Arising Suppression".
Decomposing hatred first breathes through "I am Anger,"
listening for Time's healing simmer,
then decomposing anger about past violations
to embrace rational fears of deadly toxins
enslaving equitable prospects for a healthy future.
It feels healthy to remember we are Anger
with ourselves
and with each other
before,
without sustaining against ourselves or others,
perpetuating enslaving hatred
for mental health stolen from those without sufficient wealth
to thrive
to feed
our own unhealthy enslaving greed.
Dispirited slavery imposes greedy unnatural ownership,
dreadful wealthy lust for power
co-arising with holistic health's decreasing power,
globally and personally,
without as within.
Very bad karma,
total lack of grace,
not our way to Win-Win race.
Categories:
perpetuation, health, identity, power, psychological,
Form:
Political Verse
Unbreakable
This honesty allures a heavenly melody
An orchestration of profound serendipity
Deeply engraved before time immemorial
A perpetuation of unique legacy
Untouched by the numbness of life
Innocent, unscripted by a writers’ own
Perfect enchantment of darling buds of life
An extenuation of a ray clustered demeanor
Poised by divine intellect
Immensely sculptured by noble footprints
Blended together, never to be broken
The power of umbilical cord
Perfectly knitted for a winsome pattern
A vivacious embroidery of caramel falls
An inevitable bond spattered trail
Yes, the eternal glow of a twinkling star
Some things are forever
Categories:
perpetuation, love, , memorial,
Form:
Acrostic
(Dedicated to Pope John Paul 11)
Is Religion a symbol of unity?
Dedication for the welfare of mankind
A spirit of understanding
A respect for existence
An honour for leading the path
For awakening the human beings
A challenge for impurity
To protect equal opportunity
The explanation of Nature
And its system
And a power who runs it
Nobody can touch it
Nobody can see it
Nobody can hear it
But that can realise only
A passion of pain and Love
A spirit for dedication
To face the problems
To find out the solutions
To maintain a standard for living
To protect the ancestor’s progress
For liberty, integrity and fraternity
Religious spirit never cares for boundaries
Never cares for ruling dignity
A fight against misusing
The power of freedom
A barrier to stop cruelity
A barrier to control feelings
A barrier to nominate the respect for relations
A barrier to protect natural beauty
An encouragement to develop individuality
A technique for learning
A chapter of self reliance
A movement of skills
A path of failureness and achievements
A goal of patience
Maturity of determination
Wisdom of deeds
Perpetuation of truth
Shameless and shameful divisions
Sense of goodness and dirt
Faith in existence
Action of belief
Motion for aims
A smell of enjoyment
Efforts to protect future.
Categories:
perpetuation, adventure, forgiveness, friendship, happiness,
Form:
Name
4 ablution 4 acclimatization 4 adulation
4 benediction 4 biotransformation 4 blastulation
4 concatenation 4 conception 4 configuration
4 declaration 4 dictation 4 differentiation
4 ejaculation 4 emancipation 4 ********
4 fascination 4 flagellation 4 flocculation
4 gastrulation 4 glamorization 4 glorification
4 habituation 4 harmonization 4 homogenization
4 implantation 4 impregnation 4 incubation
4 jubilation 4 junction 4 juxtaposition 4 kation
4 keratinization 4 k-ration
4 labialization 4 libation 4 liquidation
4 manifestation 4 menstruation 4 micro-encapsulation
4 negotiation 4 notification 4 notion
4 ovation 4 oviposition 4 ovulation
4 parturition 4 penetration 4 perpetuation
4 quadruplication 4 qualification 4 question
4 reaction 4 repopulation4 reproduction
4 sanctification 4 schematization 4 scintillation
4 thermojunction 4 titillation
4 underestimation 4 unification 4 union
4 validation 4 valuation 4 vasocongestion
4 weatherization 4 workstation
4 zombification 4 zonation
Categories:
perpetuation, angel, baby, birth, child,
Form:
Alliteration