Best Piteously Poems
So many times we see someone in need
Most walk by while they piteously plead
Plead for help that may not come
Plead for love because they have none
So many people just don't take the time
To support their fellow man
Like it's too much to be kind
Too much to give a helping hand
To someone who needs it, please take a stand
Stand up for the ones who cannot speak for themselves
Stand up for those who live their lives in hell
They need your help, you may be the one
That saves their life, think of your son
If he were in need and you not around
Would you want others to laugh at his frowns
To see him in need and lift not a hand
To help him up out of no man's land
You'd want strangers to aid him, I know that's true
But don't forget help can also come from you
We are all in the position to assist
I know you know that, but here's the twist
In helping others we also help ourselves
And that is a great reason in and of itself
It feels wonderful to help those in need
To sleep soundly knowing you did a good deed
So please when you see someone who has not a thing
Take time to help, it will make your heart sing
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks, not far away
He crouches low, his muscles taught
While calculations fill his mind
The perfect arc of force to find;
His quarry, still without a thought
Of what design the tiger sought
The tiger springs, the creatures flee
His mighty limbs with awesome force
Perform their planned and deadly course;
Now lies the springbok piteously
Forever torn from things that be
And o'er his corpse presides the prince
His solid jowls bespecked with blood
His razor claws in crimson flood;
He glories in these trickling glints
That show his skill in ruby tints
And when the prince has et his fill
The birds descend to eat the rest
To feed the young ones in the nest;
But on the tiger roams at will
He's free to wander, hunt, and kill
Written on the twenty-eighth of July, 2013
"Seeded"
planted in the mind, another way of being
outside spectrum, the act of forgiveness
the lore of love, united with the Seven Sisters
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"The Pleiadean Frequency"
https://youtu.be/5FHMTeyPlbo
“Suddenly they all fell off the edge into the sky, where they all turned into stars."
“One day, as they danced, they found themselves rising little by little into the air, their heads being light through hunger. How this happened they did not know, but one said, “Do not look back, for something strange is taking place”. A woman, too, saw them rise and called them back, but with no effect, for they still rose slowly above the earth. She ran to the camp, and all rushed out with food of every kind, but the children would not return, though their parents called piteously after them. But one would even look back, and he became a falling star. The others reached the sky, and are now what we call the Pleiades, and the Onondagas Oot-kwa-tah. Every falling or shooting star recalls the story, but the seven stars shine on continuously, a pretty band of dancing children.”
Pleiades
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleiades
What is a Starseed?
https://typicallytopical.com/what-is-a-starseed/
Starseed, Pleiadian
https://typicallytopical.com/pleiadian-starseed/
Starseed, Types
https://typicallytopical.com/starseed-types/
Legends of the Star People
https://montanapioneer.com/legends-of-the-star-people/
Concept of Soul among North American Indians
https://www.se.edu/international-student/wp-content/uploads/sites/85/2019/09/NAS-2011-Proceedings-Danchevskaya.pdf
Onondaga Creation Story
https://www.aaanativearts.com/onondaga-creation-story
Origin of the Pleiades/Onondaga
https://www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Legends/OriginofthePleiades-Onondaga.html
North American Indian/Creation Legends
https://www.aaanativearts.com/legends-symbols/creation-legends
https://www.aaanativearts.com/legends-symbols
Written for Ink Empress' 'Unwritten Absence' Poetry Contest.
C(ulpa)ble
Your unwritten absence unravelled much
Disrobing piteously your impure intent
Starkly exposing a ravaged soul as such
Cocooned in dark yarns of deceit, I lay spent
In golden gilded cage tarnishing from neglect
Plated with cosmetic veneer for society's consent
Yet, you were oblivious to the storm brewing, most perfect
Bidding the right time to sound its thunderous dissent
NEGLECT, tacitly accepted afore, HENCEFORTH NEVER GOES UNCHECKED!
Once upon a time, Prunella
dwelt amid a magic wood
a dainty pixie most rare
whose temperament wasn't good
Last one of her purple line
in that dreary, dreaded glen
where beasts ever feared to tread
and mankind had never been
For purple pixies were known
to be devilishly mean
they'd terrified the kingdom
wherever they had been seen
So Prunella lived alone
and pouted, skulked and scowled
and dark nights when coyotes called
she piteously howled
Until one day she found them
some children lost in the wood
and scared the daylights from them
just because she knew she could
The children fawned and pleaded
to appease her rotten mood
this only made her madder
so she copped more attitude
But she'd miscalculated
when she made the last one mad
and felt the ammunition
from that slingshot-wielding cad
Wee bits of sweets kept flying
so like pebbles at her wings
until he ran out of those
then he chucked most anything
Around the wood she darted
avoiding him at some length
until at last she gave out
having used up all her strength
He plucked her from where she fell
and plopped her into a jar
then she began to bargain
as the village wasn't far
But Fred, both shrewd and clever
vowed to keep her locked up tight
'til they all were safely home
and ev'rything was made right...
So she charmed the fireflies out
to show them all safely home
bossily shouting orders
from within the jars glass dome
But once they were safely back
the boy quickly changed his mind
decided to keep Ol' Prune'
(as pixies were hard to find)
And 'though she was mad as hell
and her wings pulsed fiery red
she couldn't help but admire
this precocious, wily Fred
'Though he never let her loose
they became the best of friends
laughing with glee as they kept
his parents at their wits-ends
“What's with these wild ideas?”
They would grouse, and groan, and moan
unknowing those mischief-plans
were a pixie's- not his own!
Like a mourning dove, my lament is spilled
I cry in grief as shadowed night grows cold
Spirit crushed from love's promise, unfulfilled
Burdensome sorrows in my heart unfold
Succumbed by tears, I piteously weep
In sullen thoughts and restless sleep, I dwell
'cross the skies, Luna flies in lambent sweep
With consoling hope, or my tolling knell?
On winds of change, I'd soar to zenith height
With wings fanned in poetic volition
Never again fearing a mawkish night
No room for gloom, nor fear of perdition
My eyes long for benevolence anew
Where the world is adorned in hues of blue
11~17~2020
Winds of Change
Sponsor: John Hamilton
She slunk through the grass
eyes firmly fixed on her prey.
The geese knew she was coming
and with hisses charged her.
Hair standing on end, crying piteously,
she fled the scene pursued with much
hooting and wing flapping.
Through the cat flap she shot.
At last they were gone, next time
perhaps a sparrow or pigeon.
For after all she is a tiny scrap
only four months old.
Bigger prey would have to wait,
for now a nice bowl of milk
and a platter of tasty food.
Replete she curls up on her cushion.
Like humans have a life,
Although people don’t face a murder charge
For hacking them down.
Like humans indulge in strife
But don’t wear their animosities like a barge
Nor noise them in the town.
Like man, parade a breathing mechanism,
Though it is carbon dioxide they cherish
And like him answers an organism
Granted that they don’t oxygen relish.
No tree ever halts the knives
About to be driven into its bark
Nor mourns their piteously lost lives
To axes operating before dark;
Scarcely panicked by wanton disturbance,
The very contrast of African Presidents in countenance.
Above King David cutting gallantry
That earns a subject panegyric commentary…
The monarch by his Absalom was mortally scared;
The barks of all trees are to their enemies bared.
Think for once why you lost him, twice why you kissed me
And thrice why you met me – patient how much should I be?
To endure this, pain but as pain and plague at full cry;
Within the borders of this life when everything is just so sly.
To have awoken enamoured and deeply attracted to your charms,
With sincerity and a desire to hold you but in my arms –
But what anguish does it give me hence? And what plight?
The deprivation of finest and divinest kisses of goodnight.
But what pleasure does it give me thus? And what thought?
The deracination from me of the lips that I dearly sought, –
So, what feeling of love so profound can be satisfied fairest,
When you, the lady that I so much love cannot love me best;
‘O who shall love you but as I do?’ I enquire –
And you say, piteously: ‘Everything is up to the Holy Sire!’
I am, I guess, a tattered soul.
A vagabond of sort.
A derelict adrift at sea.
No captain and no port.
Nowhere to go, no one to guide.
This frail and haggard bark,
Aimlessly drifts out to sea,
Piteously and stark.
No pilot here the helm to take.
No first mate to assist.
Into oblivion adrift,
Into a dark abyss.
Will there one day a solace be?
Will nepenthe be won?
Can a sweet respite be found
Before my setting sun?
Eagle-Rare is The Union,
All her members’ arms pinion,
Not with a from-behind arm twist
But thrills that can dare a long list …
You join her you pray to not leave,
You indiscreetly go ahead to leave,
You never cease to piteously grieve
Or emotive sighs endlessly heave.
But please, in the open say it not:
Still on her white sheet parades a blot
And lives with a touchable problem
Singularly bought her by her cultist emblem:
A pair of squinted eyes,
Whose owners’ broad smiles are lies;
And teeth that can one stagger
Farther than an Arab’s Dagger …
And Alakara isn’t bothered about it,
Wherefore many think it is her dug pit!
I count it that I’ve once again won
For being fifty one:
On this day, the 15th June
High my stereo with tweeters tune;
In noise–prosecuting quarters to Victory ululate,
In advance vowing to not later vacillate,
For only a just-caught-and-now-brooding criminal
Or the fast-wasted by a disease terminal
Would to the Euphoric say “Nay”
On man’s caution-depriving Birthday…
Really, the day to puff up one’s chest for boasts
With paid filled glasses for appropriate toasts,
Save for the life-jailed already gathering dust
And facing a tomorrow of inescapable rust
Or the piteously dying with his graveyard space
Reachable with not so much as a long pace…
Happy Birthday to the Gemini
Here in Nigeria but very sure He is in “Germany”
Already ambitiously eyeing Fifty-two years,
The prayers that should take him to it selecting all their gears!
Looming, inescapably all around,
Enough to make one's heart sink,
Once and for all,
Enough to douse the surest, brightest light.
A mangy stray cat suddenly emerges from the
Gloom, walks up to one, meows piteously:
Company!
On such a night as this: Company as
Welcome as any wise teacher's, any noble leader's,
Any loving familiar face's.
Boko haram terrorists
Times without number
A neighbourhood unsettling with a bomber,
Their grabbed territories
Zones of a thousand worries!
A people in panic
Piteously plan their escapes route,
Their pursuers, a manic,
Who must them funnily shoot!
It’s a horizon of unthinkable sleep
And the digging of graves not decently deep:
It’s a constant brandishing of a superior weapon
That precious lives make a lottery coupon.
North-East Nigeria to forever a story tell
That Borno was once a plain cell,
Each is increasingly a militant
Not convinced that innocent lives are important.
Excellent kidnappers they’ve got
And Suicide Bombers a lot:
It’s a pant welcoming an explosive,
Whose impact is a monster:
It’s wearer, an unbelievable youngster,
Obsessed with destructions, extensive.
Crazily, every Boko Haram
Takes non-adherent for a ram,
To readily his daughter
Slaughter and quarter
For a voiced and heard “Blood of Jesus”
What an Islamization of Nigeria
That should True Muslims anger in Algeria …