Best Possessor Poems
The child is a poet with innocent eyes
And a bumpity A-B-C rhyme,
A dancer whose feet with the rhythm of life
Move in jubilant one-two-three time.
The child is a doctor who heals with a kiss
And treats with a serum called smile,
A researcher who seeks out the meaning of life,
Then explains it with unflinching style.
The child is a chef who makes sandwich and Kool-Aid
And thinks it a royal repast,
A hero who battles the monsters and villains
And renders our land safe at last.
The child is a teacher, a sleuth, an explorer,
Controller of race car and ship,
Possessor of limitless spirit and mind
With holster and gun at the hip.
Reflections of children shine pure in the eyes
Of those who are watching them grow,
Remembering times when the sunrise meant journeys
To lands where adults cannot go.
Written in 1987
I rise from deep within the earth
out of pressured lavas
I rise above the level into
breathable realms
I rise following the risen
He who set my path and
monitors my lift lovingly
tenderly, yet such pinions
given of steeliness unpluckable
I rise for the grace of the Father,
for the loving sacrifice of the Son,
for the Spirit, all Powerful, Ever-present,
All Knowing – I rise from man's mental
coma...from delirium of his lesser ego,
from estrangement of his physical-obstinance;
climbing higher, into loftier, far brighter reality
of being...
cleanly exalted, my consciousness purified –
I rise on frequencies of heavenly choirs...
throngs of worshiping angels welcoming, wings
fanning my once fuming soul – all the while
singing Praise to Christ, man's Conqueror Lord:
The slayer of Death; the Subduer of devils
and their throngs of whispering, shouting,
deafening demons;
I rise from out under the Master Liar...jealous possessor,
once Arc of God's Most beloved till Fallen...
I rise on a divine swell of compassion and forgiveness –
carried yet higher, on upward, surging tide of greater purification,
resurrected with Divine momentum...a soaring sea of expanding
spiritual freedom...
It is Easter,
as The Risen One anointed, so shall we follow
and rise!
“Glory to God
in His Highest!”
Written: November 12, 2025, for contest sponsored by Tom Woody
*****************
If granted the power to time-slip back—
not a scale of edits, just one clean crack
in the epoch’s obstreperous spine—
What would I convert? What moment, what line?
Would I sieve the tumult of history’s breath,
undo a war, a plague, a death?
Or would I vilify my own dwarfish past,
pluck one thread from the tapestry vast?
I considered Napoleon’s umbrella,
or whispering sense to a gin-soaked fella
who discern “Titanic” meant unsinkable fate—
But the glitch was mine, not the ship’s mistake.
I’d fly to the day I didn’t say “stay,”
when love was a lissome, vivacious ballet,
and I, a moribund, wan little rabbit,
Let fear swindle my healthier habit.
She stood in a nimbus of vernal light,
a pioneer of pleasure, a rotund delight.
I was a hayseed with embryonic grace,
a virtuoso of silence, an evocative face.
I’d evolve that. Just that. No replay.
No sesquipedalian excuses or rhapsodic decay.
Just one word spoken, one velvet touch—
not humdrum, not blithe, but just enough.
Let the empyrean writhe with ululation,
let the rubble of regret find its station.
I’d be her possessor of time,
a zoetic glitch in fate’s design.
And if the Nereids complain against me,
If the metaphor of kismet tries to unfree
My choice, I’ll redeem my soul with song—
a mellifluous farewell to what went wrong.
Your eagle-plumed lips breathe:
hold on to my angel-flying heart,
bite the unbroken
bone of my wing,
...and I succumb to your enticing heat,
O, to be free in your feverish flame ~
the humble fall of hope into
the sun-calmed kiss of your sea,
learning to move
and muse amidst the mystery
as I heed the slow sink
of mundane minutes
into splitting silence,
leaving no note of music,
as darkness dissolves
like the deepening daf
of an ancient ache ~
for whirling waves resemble
dervish devotees,
intoxicated by euphoric ecstasies…
But would you, the divinely placed
speaker of light and fate ~
still love my scarred swell
if, perhaps, you saw
the unavoidable ugliness
of unintentional uninterestedness ~
the failure to seek the sun that hides
when wakeful stars scintillate,
perhaps too reluctant to romanticize
anything that warms the sky
besides the saffron of golden dawn?
I am too tired to test the tides,
to see where they crash.
I am too torn to tease
and treat tribes
of tactful treachery with tolerance…
Take me as I am ~
I am the pursuer and the escaper,
the possessor and the possessed,
the wilderness and the peace,
the destruction and the dream,
constantly pushing and pulling,
learning to normalize
being the siren adrift
amidst aquatic angst ~
So wade with me, O oceanic nomad,
someday we will no longer be
just you and I,
but crooning currents
drawn only to the
magnetic magic of the mermaid moon;
we will rise as
Moirai mystics,
dancing with destiny,
engrossed in life’s pulsing peridots,
devouring Pele’s passion…
We were never meant
to conquer the chaos,
but to candidly claim the clemency
of rippling pearl blooms…
I am an island of love
that is yours truly ~
***Inspired by the artwork; The Sea Maiden, 1894
Herbert James Draper
When morning comes and grass is dewed,
one looks beyond the window's view
The crimson sky, announces you
You spread a warmth, with revelry,
You take our breaths, you awe the eyes
Old friend, possessor of the sky,
you tint each cloud while passing by
O' morning friend, O' rising sun…You never fail to come !
Over the rooftops, over my lawn, over the crest of early dawn
Warming,………greeting,…………….skimming along…….
You come each day, to blush my face, your gentle fingers know the way
From morning’s path, long past noon, from east to west, a well worn task
You race across the time and space, an ancient clock, while keeping pace
And as the twilight comes too soon, you blaze a trail with redder hues
And ‘tho I know how soon you’ll go… I wonder why I miss you so…?
My brilliant friend, O' setting sun, it’s time to wave a sad farewell
I wonder why, when fading dim, you play for me, a sadder song?
Yet, still I’m here, in silent awe, to watch you burn away
Slowly………fading………………………………………gone
_____________________________________________________________
"The Mirror of Lost Sees: Theophany"
The You in me
possessor of knowledge
heir of the prophets
I Am, the friend of He
the me in You, waits patiently
watching you unveil in
the Mirror of Lost Sees
The Possessor of Unveiling
unseen You are in the mirror
walking corridors and highways
within Me, I Am
returning barefoot Home
walking on burning coals
set along the common road
by those warring brides
soap boxes set high and clean
competing saintly hypocrisy
religiously the learned scholars
look towards the Sun
for an unknown face
with one name
What burns inside
a body of limited time
hidden deep behind
the windows slowly opening
Truth sees watching soulfully
this is where the face is found
too bright to see
wrapped and shrouded
interred eternal
within You
I Am You
that I am
and You
are Me
Theophany
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"One day Rumi was reading next to a large stack of books. Shams Tabrizi, passing by, asked him, "What are you doing?" Rumi scoffingly replied, "Something you cannot understand." (This is knowledge that cannot be understood by the unlearned.) On hearing this, Shams threw the stack of books into a nearby pool of water. Rumi hastily rescued the books and to his surprise they were all dry. Rumi then asked Shams, "What is this?" To which Shams replied, "Mowlana, this is what you cannot understand." (This is knowledge that cannot be understood by the learned.)"
1. Earth
The designated household steward
Formidable, resourceful, and replenishable
Overseer of life advancement
Protector of the realm
2. Air
The dynamic life giver
Atmospheric regulator and ventilator
Breathable qualities regenerative properties
Possessor of the realm
3. Water
The paramount mundane neccesitator
Aquatic shapeshifter's topographical improvements
Liquefied nutrient entities' sustainabilities
Provider of the realm
4. Fire
The maintenance of creation
Foundational builder massive molding
Keeper of the Flame
Prudential of the realm
The most beautiful girl in the world.
Have you seen her?
The most beautiful girl in the world!
I have! And she is a wonder to behold
She stops traffic, no need for police
She lights up a room, she's that electric
She shines brighter than the brightest
diamonds and pearls
She's the most beautiful girl in the world
There's nothing that compares to her
nothing else to look upon, to gaze upon
for she is the sole possessor
of all the beauty that exists.
Her smile, her kindness, her grace
entrances, mesmerizes, paralyzes
Have you seen her? I have!
To be close to her for a moment
to catch a glimpse of her elegance
is all that is needed to take your
breath away, and once that is done
you can die in peace
as you are breathless anyway.
Have you seen her? I have!
Now there's nothing left to do
but to wait, until she appears again
So ...I'll just stay here...waiting...
contemplating my
vision of loveliness
my wife.
John Derek Hamilton
April 22,2016
when staring at e. e. cummings’ little ‘i’
—not reading,
it reminds me of st. francis’ sublime yet humble lowly jesus:
“he hides himself under the little form of bread”
if cummings’ little ‘i’ meant
the ‘i’ overpowered by something like gigantic rock,
overwhelmed by this evil prevailing world,
or intimidated by the malicious neighbors,
the ‘i’ hidden under a piece of bread is the lord
coming as an ‘i’ that is even smaller than the cummings’,
though he is the possessor of the power
and more than able to punish the world,
to save those worthless ‘i’s
for st. francis’ reverence on the consecrated piece of bread is
not of the dwarfish ‘i’ but of a pious one,
let my ‘i’ be not of the blasphemous one’s
but of the pious one’s as well,
the ‘i’ gazing at the forsaken lord
who died on the cross as a lonely ‘i’
pulsating rhythms
carrier of the hidden
invisible hearts desires
mover of life's breath
possessor of one's longings.
(February 9, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
As I walk under a sky
Of thousands shades of blue
With the sun kiss warmth
Touching my skin
All I can think about
Is only you
Possessor of my soul,
Why are you so beautiful?
You’ve shaken my being
Just by knowing
I am also a small part
Of your beauty
If the birds can speak
It will tell me the secret of its flight
If the sun can talk
It will send me the song of its light
If the moon can sigh
It will let me know its longing
Is the same as mine
Every moment the universe breathes
I become entangled with its beats
Till there’s no more separating ways
Between being and existing
Just loving… you
I keep walking inside your immensity
As human being
As lover
As a woman
As a daughter
I can go on giving my low self names and titles
But can’t you see how insignificance this me is?
Sky, sun, moon, flowers
We’re all making our existence
Yet the only one here is
Just you, The Beloved!
"Today is my birthday and I just make one of the most difficult choice in life so far, leaving poetrysoup. There are so many poets here that I have come to care and even love, yet goodbye is inevitable. Thank you to those who has allowed me to walk inside your immensity... there are no words to define your beauty. May your journey is filled with leaves of speech, flowers of love and memories of songs... I salut you, dear poet."
I am the river that flows into the sea
I am the river bed giving passage to the river
I am the floor creating the river flow, but we are one
I am both depth of heart and shallow of soul
I am the body, possessor of heart and spirit
We are union, We are single, and We are one
I am root, I am trunk, I am limb, and I am a tree
I am the river Jordan ever flowing into the Dead Sea
Perhaps a day will come to give her life and set her free
I am the Dead Sea, I am Everest, the low and the high
I am the bush of thorns and roses, but we are one
I am a sovereign one and 50 too, and I am United States
On a bush I grow, unique am I, protector of the rose
On a bush, I thrive beautifully, protected by the thorn
I am beauty, bush, rose, and thorn, and we are one
I am the father of the only son, holy spirit plus we are one triune God
I see a cocoon who through many struggles will be a butterfly soon
I am the living air you breathe and the life-giving water you drink
I am the mind so well linked to the brain that makes me think
I am a tree standing with others to make a mighty forest
I am the people of the seven continents of the earth
Many are we, separated by mountains, rivers, and seas
Out of one blood have we been created from our One God*
Many know not as do I that we are the many, but all of us came from one. I pray we all shall someday learn that standing together keeps us standing strong. Someday, all creatures near or far shall live together and never alone
070520PS*Acts 26:17
On the streets, mothers grilled guttersnipes,
Not to squeeze runny nose and runaway,
Perchance met by chance,
Sangfroid song is sang by heart,
Just an air breath of dare devil juvenile hector,
A furious broom, soaked inside grub of soil,
And chased until bedaub with blessed syrup,
On the contrary, likely dumped the grim green on the
street,
While keeping odourful astonishment long after,
Some swore that ground should open.
May not tell if lives in a hovel or cave,
A scary terror fleet flit streets stinking bum of the
underworld,
Possessor of all waste, his living chamber are painted
With umber dung with dumber grey and dummy dawn,
Shower rumble and wet sickening dapple flower,
Crawling vine holdsway and stranglehold,
Blood sucking vampire pods looking unhealthy,
And bobbing Piranhas in his muddy crystal ball
aquarium,
Fed soft wobbly creatures with no nose, nonsense and
eyesores,
While Dung Beetles are the beloved pets.
Mutuma was alone in the forest,
busy piling up his beans harvest
in his favorite sisal basket.
As he was about to lift his basket,
a feather from nowhere fell
on his basket, with a soft
landing. He could tell
that this was a strange event.
“How can this be?!” he asked himself.
The forest was not an abode for birds,
especially the ones that had blue, as a chief
color! “I’ll become mad!”
Before he could run away from this mystery,
an elf appeared right in front of him!
“Don’t be afraid. I have great secrets and mastery
of all world languages,” the elf told him.
Mutuma was told if he called out a person’s name
and dropped the feather, the person would die by sunrise!
“Maybe it is my destiny to tame
my fellow villagers of all the evil that they have absorbed
in their way of living, like white cotton in dye,”
the boy thought.
As the Sun set, Mutuma called each name he felt
carried deceit, malice, hatred, gossip, and many other vomit
of the Evil One. Exhausted from calling out names,
and bending to pick up the feather,
Mutuma returned to his village, and slept in his hut.
When the Sun later woke up, the boy noticed
something strange. His village was as silent as a dry well!
When he visited his parents’ hut,
tears and guilt welled in his heart.
His knees became so weak, that
he knelt on the ground.
Some villagers lay lifeless outside their huts!
All the elders sat breathless around their fireplace!
“You could have refused my offer when you had the chance,”
Mutuma heard a whisper. It was the elf’s voice!
“I am sure that now you are aware of the feather’s power. It drifts
in thin air, but brings down thousands and thousands of people!”
“You should also have known by now that everyone, including you,
has some evil in his or her heart”…..
The poor boy was appalled when he later learnt that the elf
had conspired to kill every villager around him,
so that he could be the destined possessor of the feather.
“Immortality will be your blessing;
loneliness will be your curse,” the elf
once again whispered to him.
FURUHI, A LAMENT
(Based on a poem by a Japanese poet of the seventh century, Yamanoe Okura)
What in all the world is most desired?
The precious ores, the seven precious stones?
Yet what are these to one
whom Heaven gave its fairest pearl,
that gem love brought forth to day,
our son Furuhi, our little son?
O why did Heaven lend to us
its fairest jewel?
When the star of evening shone,
he wakened us, laughing, jumping,
and when the star of evening shone,
he lay between us, there to be
a lily cupped by two green leaves.
But like that short-lived flower,
his freshness faded, wilted, paled,
as he grew weak and sick upon his bed
until like bird of night death came
to snatch its prey.
O Lord of sky and earth, tell why
you, possessor of both realms,
took from this scant store our gem,
our most loved only flower.
And Lord of dark shades of night,
to whose realm of nothing falls
all the realms of being owned,
why did you seize with such unseemly haste
what in full time was yours with better grace?
What cause had you to deny
a little season's bliss?
O Lord of dreams and visions, why
did you, as though consoling, promise
to return to us our pearl
and let us see him smile again,
and let us hear his laughter as before,
at our waking, till cold reason
with vial of gall poisoned the cup of dawn
that we felt his death not once,
but again with each returning day?
O Lord whose name we do not know,
lead him gently and with parent's care,
or call us soon that as before
our shoulders bear him high.