Best Pilgrimages Poems
Though just a wall
or so it's deemed
She's kept alive
a people's dreams
Myriad pilgrims come
her faithful friends
To renew her glory's
beginning and end*
*Beginning - Inaugurated by King Solomon, c. 1000 BCE
'End' - To be rebuilt with the advent of the Messiah ...
__________________________________
The Western Wall, aka The Wailing Wall,
miraculously survived the razing of the
Holy Temple and the Temple Mount by
the Romans in the First Century C.E.
Jews have made pilgrimages to the
Wall over the millennia, especially since
1967, after the Six-Day War.
Categories:
pilgrimages, dream, jewish, motivation, religious,
Form:
Rhyme
Serendipity
God’s hand, like a muse of the serendipity,
Makes His presence self-evident
In marvels colliding
When happy chances of happenstance
Tango with moments of pure whimsy –
Living epiphanies’ lifeblood
In generosity flowing, spilling over,
With revelation’s laughter of surprise
To stumble upon clear eyed condensed coincidence –
The synchronicity of planets aligned –
Lost in the waxing-waning cycles of moonrises
A plea born upon the lips of a servant’s heart,
For parallel footsteps in pilgrimages and side by side
Linked by servanthood planned for such a time as this.
Hearts of affirming collaboration bloom
Like flowers growing through concrete cracks
When rainstorms hurricane this battered plan
A living answer for pacing eyes
Sometimes blinded, wearing discouragement,
As hearts appear in surprise parties
With glimpses of encouragement –
Moments when hilarity finds a perfect bubble heart
On a flapjack’s edge
Or a coffee saucer wearing a topaz colored gem
Tar droppings screaming “Surprise!”
Or thunderheads giggling in celebration of floating miracles
Eternity’s prankster – vitality’s elan
Living in the playful realms of a-ha’s inspiration.
7-22-21
Contest: Muse
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
When I changed the name of my ministry to A Servant’s Heart I asked God “Are you with me?” From that time on I have been seeing hearts – everywhere – even as recently as today!
Categories:
pilgrimages, god, heart, inspiration, muse,
Form:
Free verse
I've lived in it all my life -
the self's grand fiction -
refuge for the child, youths
rebel fortress and a walled
cloister to house
the holy relics gathered
on the pilgrimages
of my mind. I have built it
line by line with words
baked into bricks.
Rooms follow years
down passageways of books,
dusty manuscripts and dreams
hung in stations along
age blackened walls.
In high towers, windows
open to a universe
with a terrifying silence
at its core.
I hear reality's hard fist
knocking at the door,
a presence breathing
its corrosive damp into mortar,
unpicking me
brick by brick. And yet,
a sense of peace in surrendering
what was never really there,
dissolving into what is
Categories:
pilgrimages, allusion, poetry, self,
Form:
Free verse
L. MESSI vs C.RONALDO™
They're two male G. O. A. T
striving for the throne:
One named Lionel, other named Cristiano,
One aged 35. The other aged 37,
One is seen as a god,
The other as super hero.
One hails from ARG????, the other from POR????.
One owns & bosses the no 7,
The other dons the iconic 10.
Who's every kids model & ladies crush? Cr7????
Who's every man's dream & hero? M10????
Who's every defenders nightmare? Lionel Messi.
Who's every goalies daredevil? Cristiano Ronaldo.
Who is the media's own son? L. Messi.
Who's journalist black sheep? C.Ronaldo.
Lionel is like the last born of the house
who can do no wrong even when he's wrong,
pampered long enough in mama's house (Barça)
and finally released abroad when he's older.
Cristiano is the first born of the family
who pilgrimages to fend for himself (Lisbon - Madrid),
And takes the blame or responsibility for others
(even United's 21/22 trophyless season blame
was hinged on him despite his scoring exploit).
One mount on praises and adulation,
The other feeds-off criticism & respect.
The throne became void when our forefathers:
Pele & Maradona vacated the hot seat.
Now, the age-long tussle has to sly once & for all.
Fanatics, let's crown the new GOAT,
Give what belongs to Caesar to Caesar
And what belongs to GOAT, the accolades.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© December2022.
Categories:
pilgrimages, 1st grade, football, god,
Form:
ABC
longest night
greyed crumbling walls
housed holy monks in rising song
now only sparrows sing
moor brown winter dry
Kathy searches for Heathcliff
ponies huddle in ruins
ancient spirits
walk hill path pilgrimages
stars watch impassive
white ladies maidens
float above in tower halls
mice gather wheat seeds
wuthering winds pry
tightly shuttered windows hold
fox yips hound sleeps on
fill the hearth higher
gather for tales softly told
owls screech wisdom
whisper blessed words
drape the magic greenery round
soon night ends larks sing
Categories:
pilgrimages, longing,
Form:
Haiku
Silver sender winter's GLAZE.
Sun style fun shine, gentle rays.
Bit of light.
Snowman built on top THE hill.
Happens DAYS AND DAYS.
Happily snowy blowing craze
This SEASON'S CHRYSTAL phase.
Lofty softy covering Of winter's white.
So Sun satuated a sleek Saturday's
Soothing sight.
Cold and gleeful LAUGHS
First part of winter fun
With sled and winter TOYS sliding gliding
With cold and golden frozen SUN.
Fluff and huff and BLOWING stuff.
PILGRIMAGES made for the fun of it
Snowflakes and FROZEN faces soaked in
Cold sport and PLAY.
GOOD DAY
GOOD DAY
GOOD PLAY
Categories:
pilgrimages, beauty, day, light, nature,
Form:
Alliteration
Neighbor
Babul Ahmed
We have two well
Everywhere in the middle of
the Virgin River flowing.
Your home on the north side
I, along with the southern windows.
Every morning, facing East
We see both sunrise,
Road, the western horizon
Scarlet red beam bent-law of shame.
Our feet below the soil
Soft or dust dhusara agricultural soils
Rivers flowing below,
Constantly flowing beneath brings.
The smell of the soil, rice Kaun.
Only the sky over our heads.
Its dense blue or ash color dhusarata
One more red sun or
Baby Krishna black cloud confusion,
Stars in the night, all the same
Galaxies, wain, the North Star, or Venus,
Paint-stained firefly night anymore.
Batasatao so ina r ÿ cameli air,
Jasmine or Shefali, Belly, easterly haoyaya
Sail boat, row, bucolic melody, issued row.
Vortex air route dust, straw, kite reel,
Bagatta predictable. Our skin color
Light brown or bright Shyamala,
Our wagtail sisa, Manik weld
Rice myna, pilgrimages, Crow,
Lily striped bisahari swelling.
The river flowing through the center of our two
His babble, transparent salila, frisky fish,
Flag waves on the border of the dissection.
Unknown to all but silent concert
Ganga flows from the Buriganga.
Sylhet 1 April 015, 11:05 am
Categories:
pilgrimages,
Form:
Epic
ARE YE GOING TO MARRY THAT WITCH OF A DAME - Counterfeiting the CANTICLE by T. Wignesan
(With self-lacerating apologies and scathing penance to that great troubador medieval English poet who longed for his lovely lass during expunging pilgrimages to Scarborough Fair. T. Wignesan)
Are ye going to marry that b**ch of a dame
Peanuts quail venison on lime
Remember what she did to make you so lame
For she's bound to ditch ye if you hardly rhyme
Tell her to stop painting her leathery face
Peanuts quail venison on lime
Without no mud nor slime on lewd grimace
She's bound to ditch ye if you're stumped for a rhyme
Have her stripped in yon dark desert lithium mine
Peanuts quail venison on lime
Remember how good she's at the roller-coaster grind
She's bound to ditch ye if you feminine rhyme
Have her read to ye Gulliver's Travels in bed
Peanuts quail venison on lime
And ride all Yahoos till their butt-ends turn red
Then she's bound to stitch vowels in your rhyme
Have her show ye all her unkempt drawers
Peanuts quail venison on lime
In between her sonorous sighs and rough coughs in tatters
Then she'll witch her wiles for the guile of a dime
© T. Wignesan - Paris, May 8, 2019
Categories:
pilgrimages, betrayal, fantasy, humor, marriage,
Form:
Quatrain
Funeral Cortege Sans Protocol
The autumnal equinox period
Spells time for worship, pilgrimages
Rituals and a pandemonium
Of festivities and gay hyperactivities
The elephant godhead idol
Over decked, anointed
With all fervour is immersed
In its watery bed amidst chantings
Its worshipped form
Turns to formlessness
The formless deities rise at dawn
Bleating like sacrificial lambs
Leaving a trail of dismembered limbs
On shores like the carnage of pilgrims
Heaped on one another in Mecca
After the great crane's death knell
A convoy of trucks arrive to pile
The mutilated aftermath of their godly images
Littered unwanted on the golden sands
Sweep the once worshipped but
Now shredded and tattered earth's burden
On their slow funeral cortege sans protocol
SECOND
Balveen Cheema
November 11, 2015
Contest: Dark Poetry
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
pilgrimages, allusion, death, funeral, goodbye,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric
© Francis Maugo
Help me understand;
Why you want me back
The arrogant and heartless Basis.
Was I not your source of grief and nightmares?
Was I not your bondage and source of oppression ?
Help me understand;
Why do you want me back?
After all those series of torment, anguish
And pain you inflicted on my younger heart.
Was I not the the reason behind
Your daily lamentations and wails?
Help me understand;
Are you giving up on your "religion"
And "new form of worship"?
What happened to your new "friends"
That you constantly defended whenever
You could be giving me fake affection?
What happened to your constant "holy pilgrimages"?
Do you want to tolerate sinning with
The devil incarnate Basis?
Help me understand;
What came over you that made you
To want to take me back?
Was I not the arrogant and disgrace to you and
Your new " heavenly compatriots"?
Was I not the big threat to your brighter future?
Was I not the the BA- and not
the BASIS you used to adore?
Help me understand;
Do you want to now kill me
After maiming my heart?
Was it not you who celebrated when
I had to accept your divorce letter despite
My tireless efforts to broker peace between us?
Help me understand
Was it not you and your belated fellow daughters of Jerusalem danced and jubilated
While drinking my blood that was gushing from
My bleeding heart you had maimed?
Help me understand;
Are you on a mission to send me to the grave?
Have you recruited enough "friends"
To come with you and dance on my graveyard?
Kindly help me understand
Why do you want me back
Oh poor me ? son of Maugo.
Categories:
pilgrimages, betrayal, boyfriend, break up,
Form:
Free verse
Calypso red dressed in dawn’s vague morning mist
Splendor painted behind the miasmic curtain
An enigmatic temptation dripping of murk and shadow
A delicately cruel mélange lost within nature’s backdrop
A barb in the thigh of our daily pious pilgrimages
Imprisoned beneath a shallow earthy grave
Forcing and screaming it entices it’s own release
In a measured fury of escape and conquest
The fragile orchid screams a silent blossom of victory
And worshipped thanks to the morning sunshine
Categories:
pilgrimages, hope, imagination, life, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
Those eyes that can reflect heavens on earth,
turning earth expression into constant birth.
Pilgrimages to You from within as servant,
sacred dwellings of worship and its current.
Compassionate visions radiate in true ideal,
provided natures phenomena and eternal.
Seeing flower footprints as godly dancing steps,
veneration of space as formless love effects.
Immensity of celestial majestic display,
presence without doubt from Your heart at bay.
The soul as compass pointing towards that behold,
crossing the ocean of life facing the storm so bold.
The eye of intuition never deceived,
hidden mysteries given liberty received.
The domain of every soul in its own sphere,
multidimensional observer reflecting to take care.
The magical glance poured into every child exist,
starving kisses enfold that no one can resist.
Categories:
pilgrimages, appreciation, child, giving, judgement,
Form:
Ballad
They foolishly spend time and money
on the pilgrimages
deeming that Father will fill their aprons
with precious pearls.
Basket of sins on their heads
still overflows,
and a pious life
is rarely loved.
The 'sacred’ water of the Ganga
merely washes
the decaying bodies
of impure souls.
No relation with Him,
no connection with Him;
their pilgrimages go on
half the cycle.
What do they gain
by the journey of bodies
when the mind is left
in worldly worries?
His real children
living in the temple of body
reach Sweet Home
in the fraction of a second.
Their journey is
the spiritual journey,
journey of the mind,
the pilgrimage of remembrance.
Categories:
pilgrimages, devotion, father, god, journey,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I'm a power clock
to this soul
a mother to
this woman here
i have nurtured her legs
to grow longer
and know better than to sway
with pilgrimages
i have braided her
thick kinky hair
and washed her face until it glows
this beauty right here
is of my making
this woman here
wears pride and dignity
like the mustang wears its mane
has a sense of definition
greater than essence of man
this woman here
is a giver, receiver
someone in need yet
dances to no tune of a dictator
wears fruits of intelligence with elegance
this woman here
is a masterpiece
is here to build home here
this woman here
lives in a mind of a man who
appreciate naturale as a sense of style
and flair
a man who commands her needs
feeds love to her in a glass spoon
and answers to her yearns with grace
yet he still sincerely begs for more
but more to
this woman here
comes with incentives
more means forever
and more here means all of this woman
whole with no ammendments
this woman here
is to stay...
Categories:
pilgrimages, losswoman,
Form:
Where does love go
after the thrill of hunting
through jumbles of resentment and
thickets of fear
After whispered promises under
musical moons during nocturnal pilgrimages
nurturing teeny dreams
Where does love go
After the rites of 'I DO'
and ostentatious feasting of
friend and foes
Where does love go
After the ectstacy of dewy nights
feverish morn and nauseous noon
Where does love go
when sorrow wrench the heart and
trouble shred the soul
when tears pour like libation
when crises cripple faith
and raging hormone tear apart a peaceful lair
when couples brag and braww
brawl and brag
and frightened kids become helpless umpires in
domestic squabbles
when chop money dig galling holes, in
penuried pockets
and million hands grab few wads
when harried hearts beat discordant tunes and
suspicion sprout on famished ground
when words are hurled like rockets
and laughter clang like cymbals
when hate filled eyes gush with blood
and judges gavel inter once bouyant dreams
Where does love go?
Categories:
pilgrimages, confusion, depression, girlfriend-boyfriend, introspection,
Form: