Best Ponderings Poems
Easter approaches on tender, Lily-white feet!
Most think only of chocolate Easter bunnies, a most delicious treat!
Or, of going Easter shopping in lovely, spacious malls.
They know not, the significance of what Easter means at all.
A man hung on a cross, and died to save humanity.
But the move is on to discredit Christ, who died on that tree!
Some children, of Him, only lies do parents tell!
They are told there is no God, no Heaven and no Hell.
The goal .....to make man, a god?
While our only end, is to lie dead, beneath that cold sod.
For believers, their eternal future is both divine and glorious.
Singing with the Angels in God’s chosen, golden chorus!
4-6-2022
I wish someone would explain
To me how we can spend
Billions of tax dollars
On space exploration
When we can’t even figure
Out how to erase hunger
And poverty.
Who sets our priorities anyway?
Could someone please tell me
How it is we have the research dollars
Dedicated solely to the detriment
And destruction of whole cultures
But we’ve no way of curing
AIDS, Cancer, or the common cold?
Who’s in charge here?
Can anyone give me the reason
Why society insists on medical advances
In plastic surgery while so many
Still can’t afford basic healthcare
And die because of it?
Where is our leader?
How is it that we can find Jupiter,
Study its molecular structure,
But still can’t find an answer
For alternative fuel sources?
Is everyone sleeping?
While we continue to battle
For world-wide sovereignty,
Our own people collapse.
What happened to integrity?
Is there hope
For the next seven generations?
God, I hope so.
Popped in again here at the Soup
I'd spent too long out of the loop
I skimmed the blogs to find the scoop
of what's been dished among this troupe
Checked in to see a friend or two
Read lovely rhymes, on list of "new"
My own muse, dead! not much to do
In need of welcome of the crew
When words won't come, and heart is weak
and days are colored grey and bleak
when silence triumphs need to speak
You long for just a little peek
To read a poem, colored fair
and see the souls who dare to bare
their joys and sorrows without care
I long to tell them, "I'll be there."
I long to write and share my soul
this urge, at times above control
to be immersed and not to scroll
though lines of yours than can console
And so I stop my work to write
My uncle passed away last night
this sadness suffocates the light
Yet, life goes on with speed and might
A word, a thought, a single line
that all is well, a little sign
Poetic rest at friendship's shrine
I'll carry on; all will be fine.
Eileen Manassian
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five,
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Lancing pristine white paper with brazen blue veins,
it was quite impossible for me to abstain.
Day in, and day out, from the egg to the cane,
with old age beaconing and more of the same.
Lancings lingering images on pages of fading memories...
perhaps they're dreams these blue traceries,
As impossible as it seems, impossible, and often strained?
I wonder would it have been best for me to simply have abstained?
Year’s end approaches. Thoughts of coming days
Excite me. More than ever, love of friends
And family sustains me. God, I praise.
Redeemed, I’m Heaven-bound when life here ends.
So, I conclude there’s GOLD in life’s late phase.
May 5, 2023
Contest Name: Bite Size Contest no 63
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Upon my bare bent boughs, the blossoms itch,
‘Tis the high season when pollen count rises,
So much better when I wore not a stitch,
Now one's nerve jumps at nasal surprises
Humans emerge from their winter abode,
In awe of the plush panoramic rush,
Foregoing instinctual rambling code,
Flora slowly chokes below feet that crush
A summit of Bards I steadfast embark,
Beneath acrid acidic fall of rain,
Mini Beasts vie to bite deep through my bark,
As strained soil struggles to feed its gaunt grain
We ponder, Is Spring not all it may seem?
Spring with wise Sapiens would be a dream.
Date: 19 February 2023
Spring is not all Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Who are we if not pieces of the same whole?
We play with pain as if we knew it were a game.
Thoughts define our emotions define our behavior defines our reactions define our personality.
What is passion, but the acceptance of a collective idea, pursued with intense belief.
All that is, was, and ever will be must weather the storm of random attrition to carry some sort of legacy with the human race.
We must embrace evolution or we shall stop.
If there was no time before the Big Bang
Was there nothing or something other ker-banged
There was no morning, afternoon or night
Before the Universe was put out to endless flight
Concepts that we find are so useful in our lives
Appointments and times schedules will not jive
But in the infinitesimal void of the universe
Who would really care for what it is worse.
© Paul Warren Poetry
in the realm of yesterday
I am now but a ghost
a shadow that wandered away
yet another forgotten post
in the reality of the present
I know I'm but an illusion
a dream that won't relent
my surroundings mere delusion
therefore my future must be
a story waiting to written
by a delusional ghost
trapped within an illusion
I've treasured memories like purest of gold
Which are pondered in thought as I am growing old
Of my little children a long time ago
And the questions they posed, they
just wanted to know
Of animals, bugs, and of toads,
snails or slugs
Of fabric and string, Oh! Can we make a rug?
And of funniest words that they
found simply absurd
And of people and places
of which little ears heard.
Who, when, where? What?!
Oh, Mommy how?
And why? Why?
Why mommy, aren't we allowed?!
Of questions, this mommy had heard
Every day
As the children discovered through
their world and play
The seashells from the wonderous sea
The world, their university
And thus this theme which now I ponder
As back in time my memories wander
so - did ya?
did ya go to the open mic?
did ya go on ya bike?
did ya stand on the stage?
full of angst and rage?
or spout forth good cheer
did ya overcome ya fear?
despite the cold,
did ya act all bold?
...
or stay at home in ya bed
feeling sorry with dread
...
that's cool too
we just care about you
....
well...
did ya?
(C) Ian Diddams 2017
A LOOK AT NONSENSE
I cannot write a poem today
So why should I even try
It's snowing outdoors right now
And I am not sure just why
I don't have the answers
To all my questionings
But if I try to think it through
I might learn a thing or two
About life's many ponderings
And how they puzzle you
I might learn why strong men cry
When you least expect they will
And why that tiny bird I saw
Perches on my grill
Why do wonders still exist
E'n when things go wrong
Why do I hear a little child
Sing a brand new song
Why can't humans fly around
And save their tired feet
Why do words that make no sense
Often give relief
Maybe so I can write a poem
That relieves my tired mind
So I can then enjoy the snow
With its refreshing sign
Copyright, Kathryn Search
If I am my truest, most pure and complete Self
when I feel happy, light hearted, and free,
when I feel depressed, heavy hearted, and stuck,
who am I?
If this is the end of a few years' stint of feeling real - of being real-ly alive...
What does that now make me?
If it can be this easy
to fall away from mySelf -
to lose mySelf,
how do I get back to Me?
If I'm not here,
where am I?..
How strongly do I believe
in my own existence,
if I don't believe
in only existing..?
That's all I'm barely doing right now..
I really don't want to be a dead-weight on the World.
I want to be a part of its buoyancy..
I see occasional glimmers of
Me on a good day,
twinkling like a hopeful star
through a brief gap in a grey night's cloud..
I don't know if that gives me hope
that I've not gone too far,
or makes me sadder that
I'm rarely around..
If it can be this easy to lose Me,
can I also be easily found?..
Sometimes, it descends like a warm night breeze
A blanket. At once comforting and disturbing...
The sense knocks. A vague, uneasy membrane just outside of feeling
Too many years, too far along
Too much water under so many bridges
The house changes, transmogrified from cosy fustiness into something altogether sadder
It carries weight, occupies space, colours the green screen
Perhaps we are all just blank black books waiting for an author
Oh do, let us dream, Lord, of a peaceful and shining, promising day.
To realize the value of poets we know, and incude the ignored or unknown!
Refusing the faces of negativity, humbly walking in your ways, shown.
Always remind us, please, to go to the light, where thy glory, doth lay!
I realize that not all of us have a family to sit down and have a dinner to share.
But if you do, light your candles to make this confused world, radiantly bright!
After dinner, go to the family window forthwith, inhale Spring’s sweetest night.
See your silhouettes in the moonlight, on a tender carpet on this evening rare!
Poem 1
3/9/2024