Best Populace Poems
Blessed in abundance that manifests in our
stressed daily interaction with our fellow man, and the sincerest
form of our inner wellbeing is the outpour of laughter.
Dormant in the face of adversity, while we empathise with
modern populace at large and try to bring some
modicum of humanity and relief of the pain.
We’d all experience this from time to time and this is
seed of essence in our reality that is forever fraught.
Felled by ulterior motives – punished like Sisyphus by our
fellow peers – as the dulcet tones of compliments, the sweetest
wrung encouragement that soothed our souls like songs
sung at our cradle; the melodies now forgotten. They are
symbols indelibly edged into our subconscious and those
cymbals that tend to want to drown us out so that
we spin in the vortex, but vector us towards the stories to tell.
Be it to explain the tumultuous emotions raging beneath the surface of
our designer exterior – this is by far the saddest
hour and we, eventually, rather opt for the dilatory thought.
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark
I am able to move one’s spirit to the pinnacle of joy or drive it to depths of despair.
Not a chore to evoke passionate emotion--convey love, hate, life, and death.
Within those four small words lies our meek human existence all told.
To omnipresent Alpha and Omega, of what core lies between?
Now I sit with pen in hand to ponder many words of wit.
Gift to paint, not I, yet may cast an image to mind.
Bright lavender fields coax the amorous duo
to mingle with its deep, heady scent.
Amidst wet sewage soaked dirt
a filthy small child lays
weeping for mother
a bloody heap
close by.
See?
My!
The glee
holding words
Make them express.
Giving wide literate detail.
Understand to hold a soft heart.
Else never will you touch one’s soul.
So this is merely the lone reason I compose.
Excitement and warm sympathy and fiery passion,
within many a sorrow and tears and friendly persuasion,
in absolute care I do write and lay my psyche upon each page,
then wonder at length the primary purpose of such artistic endeavors.
Who among the world’s populace might gain an insight from what I scribe?
Does this really matter at all; since rarely, if ever, is it what one says… but how.
Drifting down to us as pearly flakes,
Ever drifting like a silver dream,
Comes that special time when faces gleam;
Earth‘s populace with good will awakes!
Merry is this end time of the year.
Bright are memories we make and keep.
Ermine-covered, nature goes to sleep.
Regardless, festivity draws near!
Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The wind here sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of deleting the old
To script a new chapter, a new story
In these ancient graves sleep the silent dead
Their toil and trouble ended with life
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession
Did they perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However, their names are blotted out from life’s tome
They are knocked down and mocked by time
And they lie here uncared, expelled from their home.
Generations pass and their progeny comes
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind
Nor thinking that all comforts, from their toil stem
Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Each life here is a volume shut down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or erased forever with no name or renown
With a heavy heart I stand beside these wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard-earned possessions behind
With no trace, mocked by time and forgotten by the populace
This garden city
Concrete skyscrapers loom;
Greenery punctuate
Tree-lined avenues
Bourgainvillea clusters;
Traffic jam companions
Waltzing slowly
Overhead bridge;
Ant-people below
Old neighbourhood
Heartland community;
Ageing populace
Feeble old lady
Speeds on wheels;
Electric commotion
Playground
For small kids and big;
Noisy charades
Fitness park
For young and old;
Fighting spirit
City side walk cafe
Crowded after hours;
Beery happy hours
Noticeable absence
Dry spell ending;
Sudden torrential rain
Umbrellas raised,
Parasols hoisted;
Too late this drenching
Side walk cobbler
New lease for old shoes;
Assorted wears
Hyper art queue
Long-winded delay;
Fussy customer
Bank ATM await
Ready to dispense;
Urgent pocket money
Office podium
By shopping mall;
Buzz of human traffic
Downtown hype
Temptations galore;
Mostly unnecessary
Leon Enriquez
23 Apr 2014
Singapore
In the fifties leaders told
an innocent trusting
populace
to duck and cover.
Years later they felt
so foolish
for the easy way
they let their fears
be strummed.
It had worked so well
that with ignorance
and forgetfulness that goes
with time,
and the arrogance that goes
with power,
and a populace drained
of will,
and hyped by televised fears,
many rushed out to buy
duct tape.
Now in a land
birthed in religious freedom
we argued over mosques
while desperate matters
are left unresolved.
Somewhere in this land
a jackass is braying.
“But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed.” ~Romans 2:5-11
I am at odds with this world
bearing ill will toward all,
There’s a moral outrage brewing
within me that I’m unable to constrain…
A scream I cannot voice,
A pain I suffer in silence.
It’s like I am on a crusade to
right the wrongs of the people
and punish those responsible,
To exact revenge on those who
have soiled the fabric of our society.
Unbeknownst to me,
this seething resentment
is raging deep within my soul
toward the self-serving segment —
This unabashed hedonistic wasteful culture
indifferent to the plights of the downtrodden,
Pursuing pleasure and good life
while the populace at large die of hunger.
Some wallow in luxury and extravagance--
They hoard, they feast, they overindulge,
unconcerned by the plight of the multitude
living in a squalid condition
deprived of the basic human needs.
Yeah, there’s a rage within me
and I am hell-bent
on smacking the world down.
There’re people in it who are evil and deceitful,
selfish, corrupt, arrogant, marauders,
warmongers and self-indulgent thugs.
I like to put them in a chokehold and
squeeze the life out of this egotistical lot...
Lord, it’s time to unleash upon the world
the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse.
~03/04/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge "J" words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
P R
Parasite Removal
P C
Populace Critical
B L M
Better Life Mandating
P O V
Positive Oratory Vibes
V I P
Vitally Imperative progression
The middle east, the north, the south
Are suffering from heat waves.
The populace is retreating to
Their air conditioned caves.
We in our Skagit Valley homes
Are enjoying a cool breeze.
The sun is out , we’re basking
In mere seventy degrees.
The farmers, rising early,
Are busy reaping crops.
Bringing riches from the fertile fields
Means labor with no stops.
In early spring the daffodils
And tulips steal the scene.
Replacing them a second crop
Is sprouting emerald green.
Our educated farmers know
How to get the greatest worth
From the richest, most productive soil
Found anywhere on Earth.
Ripe berries and fresh vegetables,
Potatoes, grains and seeds,
Our Skagit farms attempt to fill
The whole world’s hunger needs.
Our mighty Skagit River
Carries salmon in its stream.
Fishing from its sunny banks
Is an Izaak Walton dream.
Nestled between the mountains
And the waters of the Sound,
Fun in our Skagit summers is
Quite easy to be found.
A Gods Eye View of The World
Every form blends and fades
Persistent though
And meaningful
Below from top to bottom slides
Encompassed by
Itself
Describes a purpose
To shift from one to another
And never made less
Than the original
Veins and circulars entwined
Each led to destiny
Between crags and breezes
The formation
Forces of opposition
And tendrils equate
The indefatigable line of being
A mingled sea of light
Transposes through shadow
Arch and rock
Air indivisible
A vibrant salute continues
In a heraldry of birth
Festooned upon the relinquished
A sleeping crown
All appears dancing
A choreography of miniatures
And magnitude beyond thinking
Swift sent of consciousness
Awakened in a tide
Of gesture
And slow somnambulant time
Picks blades or petal
From hair or eye
Thus is its passing
A present unending momentum
Between the washing colour
Of an unseen spectrum
A fluid solidity of dust
On which inscribed imaginations
Pallet of brilliance
Careless even reckless
In its precision of chaos
The full monument of awareness
And spoken singular
Undivided
Unsullied
Stands between feet and sky
Between earth and star
An infinitesimal populace
Of essence and core
Scattered seeds individually planted
To witness
The realms of awe
( Thank you for this poem ).
WILD NATURE
Far from squabble of snobbish sniffy people
I wish to visit a wild country
where loud amusement has no entry to disturb
simple innocent naive populace.
Bathed in soft Sun rays at delightful dawn
gazing at close by pinewood
I would like to lie supine not on smooth lawn but on feral grasses
on non-mowed meadow,
where light and shadow play hide and seek game.
I will enjoy crazy cattle grazing chewing coarse grasses and foliage,
or camels thriving on thorny bushes making barren field fertile.
I will walk on furrows of field of crops
Kaleidoscope of butterflies on flash and flutter of colorful wings
***** unfamiliar bird whistles to startle or croons in cadence.
My pleasure to pass through pathless wood
My rapture to feel fragrance of wild blossoms
I would like to venture verdure of verdant valley.
and watch wild insects allured to juices of agrestal plants.
I will feel offer of Nature as bliss in every limb
in the wild country.
I wish to escape compulsive constriction of city life
I will sleep sound in quietude on serenity of sublime solitude.
04/10/ 20
Fourth Place
'Wild' Poetry Contest by Anthony Slausin
First Place
-A Brian Strand 1092
Contest by Brian Strand
1/21/19
"OAT"
I was wrong to quit
It's been too long I admit
Was gone a bit
On a trip
Putting down lagers quick
Now I'm back with a stronger grip
Deep down in the water sits
The key for you and me, it is not a myth
Now go ahead and ponder this
Does god exist?
I will honor this
World and bring the proper gifts
My help I will always offer it
With a whole lot of wit
I already did it, before you thought of it
Had to stop to piss
Up atop a cliff
As I was walking my boxer pit
While wearing a copper fit
Back in the day I bought a bit
Couldn't tell you the last time I copped a zip
It keeps coming my way, a whole lot of it
Meanwhile, all day long I sip
You should already know, I'm off of it
We're polar opposites
You keep talking ****
Unaware, that I'll bring forth the apocalypse
Soon,you'll need a walking stick
And put in a coffin quick
Before Autumn hits
Still paying my homages
I would rather remain anonymous
In all honestness
Here to follow through on promises
Got no time for incompetence
Across the seven continents
They continue their reconaissance
Over the populace
Because of much more than opulence
It does have to do with dominance
And is rather ominous
You're a drone, I'm a rocket ship
You're a mosquito, I'm a hippopotamus
I'm negative, you're HIV positive
I protected it, you kept raw dogging it
I'm clean with good hygiene, you smell like rotten fish
I'm off the Richter, you're sweeter than a box of chocolates
When I decide to finish, they'll wanna audit this
The USA is not perfect
never has been
never will be
Unlike Russia, which has
‘no alcohol problem’
‘no civil disobedience’
‘no LGBTQ populace’
Not to mention no truth in the
information it disseminates to
suckers around the world...
Yes, indeed, the USA is not perfect
not with George Washington
the 1700’s slaveholder (gasp!)
on our currency, not to mention
Susan B. Anthony, who was proudly
anti-abortion, pro-life – for shame, for shame!
~ Our ignominious past consigns us to eternal penance ~
Unlike Libya, where an ancient slave trade flourishes
to this very day: Muslims enslaving black Christians
which does not fit the media’s narrative
so most people aren't aware of it
and the rest don’t care about it
Unlike Afghanistan, where the repression of the 'Old Taliban'
is now fully in place under the ‘Newer, More Gentle Taliban’
or Syria, whose butcher of a ruler has made refugees of half his
citizenry, gassing thousands of others with chemical weapons…
But yes, indeed, the USA is not perfect
Never has been
Never will be
Let us forever grovel in abasement to all the tin-horn dictators of the world
not to mention our home-grown squadrons of regressive radical progressives
Down with Jefferson, Lincoln, Grant, Teddy Roosevelt, Truman and Reagan!
Up with Omer, Tlieb, Pressley, Sanders, AOC, Corey Bush, Schiff, Nadler...
Long live Maduro, Castro, the Mullahs, Xi, bin Salman, Abbas, Gaddafi et al!
Lies are Truths Might Makes Right Facts are Opinions
1 9 8 4
I’m watching television, black and white, January 1961
A surge of expectancy in the populace, the dream
Kids in the White House, a buzz of activity
New president going to make his speech
Ask not what you’re country can do for you
Hope being restored, pride, respect
The New Frontier, vision, new ideals
Camelot
January 2009, plasma screen,
A surge of expectancy in the populace, the dream
Kids in the White House, a buzz of activity
New president will make his speech
Crossing lines, uncharted territory
Hope being restored, pride, respect
Intelligence replacing idiocy
Leadership overtaking greed
Apathy being destroyed, youth involvement
Camelot Again?
A time for Unity
All Stand
Here comes the President, of Our land, Our Nation.
He is tall and smart, and speaks from the heart.
Not always nicely.
Not everyone hears him, some wish he would be quiet.
Not everyone likes him, some wish he would resign.
I don’t care.
I dare.
I voted for him, because “they” were against America.
It does not matter which party I am.
I don’t care.
I dare.
I voted for him, because “they” were against America.
“they made that clear then… and now…”
(they held their hands up as one… I watched the debates…
I was horrified, as none stood for the Citizen’s of Our Land, not one)
I watched closely as the mid term’s provided bugs to eat the capital.
I stared at the screens of fake news while they built houses of lies,
neighborhoods of deceit, and unrest among the populace.
Great people in power pouring their gray water into the public drinking system…
That we may all feel so self important, as to now see …
Evil in fancy dress, living in castles on hills surrounded by poverty and disease.
(the return of the dark ages)
The sign post up ahead, “Welcome home.”
I found out the last guy left a mess.
No surprise…
Words like swamp have been around for years, so have the alligators.
Deals done in the dark, between offices representing all of us,
to steal gain, for self worth. Family fortunes,
made on the backs of peasants,
whose hopes and dreams were for a better tomorrow. (for all)
No surprise…
America the beautiful, the land of plenty, “In God We Trust”.
Everyone wants to come here.
(including the socialists and communists
and all those that hate her for their own personal reasons)
But so many instill fear.
We don’t want you…here.
Beware.
“WE” do care!
“We” will dare.
To stand up, stand for and stand against.
To have... upheld, to uphold and to;
hand down, hand shake or shake up…
anyone and everyone that try’s to stop…
Our President.
God Bless him, I voted for…
quit trying to impeach him,
he is doing the job.