Best Potentate Poems


Premium Member The Little Man

Why should we 
be allotted a day at all
there is no allotment
we carry the load 
we always have 
we always will
it is au naturale 

we succeed 
the pain, or, 
somehow 
just proceed
despite it all
the ripping open
of seals, torn -

the message crowns,

at the opening
the trident 
at the door
 
inside, revealed

we are 
the strength
potentate 
high above
the little man
the smaller 
sacrament

the Mother 
that birthed 
it all



Candide Diderot. ‘24 



“Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.” 





Barber, Samuel. Adagio. Strings.
William Makepeace Thackeray.
International Womens' Day.

Premium Member Abundant Blessings Continue

Abundant Blessings Continue, 
Descending Endlessly From God.
Happy Is Jesus, King Like Melchizedek,
Nary Other Potentate, Qualified Ransom,
Savior Triumphant, Universal Victor.
Wholeheartedly Express Your Zeal!
© Mark Toney  Create an image from this poem.

A Seagull Named Steve

A Seagull Named Steve

This seagull flew by and sat a bit
Ordered tequila from  a wine glass sipped.

Dressed in bright yellow
Such a delight social fellow,

Conversation made easy
In beach sands breezy.

A Jonathon   Living indeed
Spreading his light giving sea diving seeds.

At first to me, a dive he did make
Up to the sun in restoration with me he did take.

In buttons of coco bean seed
I find my self hand in hand with he I need.

Washed away my blues
Into happiness hues
Of bright orange and yellow.

Across the ocean in search of loves notion
Conjured a passion sea foam potion

Potentate hurricane insane commotion.

But swirl in heavens bright blue skies
In the night full moon we did fly.

For a need for both fulfillment deep
Never to be forgotten not even in sleep.

As quickly he came this seagull named Steve
From no love forever to maybe make me believe.


But try I did truly beg him not to leave
My Jonathan  Living seagull named Steve.

Yet he is gone to other seagull endeavors
Living his life among castles of pleasures.

Me
He did not leave
For in my heart
He created I think
A new start.


Character Sketch of Me

Born in Cincinnati that buckeye state 
January 13th 1959 – 57+ years to date
A tangle of arms & legs testing lungs, which sounded great
He kind of resembled a misshapen octopus with oval pate
Glowering inxs of deep purple from blue mood being irate
Thrust out the womb of Harriet Harris whom Boyce did date
After courting this youngest Kuritsky kin whose ill-fate
Whisked by grim reaper, which demise she did hate
For her being imbued with vim and vinegar til illness ate
Away her je nais sais quois personable maternal trait
Evident during my boyhood reflected by her son of late
As he too inches closer to his mortality and Hades gate
Aware that each day ought to be cherished as the rate
Of time courses down that zip line where grim reaper does wait
Attired in brand name hoodie swinging scythe across oblate
Spheroid i.e. terrestrial firmament – though many years some great
Yet to be lived – trying to recapture childhood bliss before freight
Train on a collision course toward self-destruction ala tete a tete
With Anorexia Nervosa as thy then coveted deadly mate
A brutal hellish spiral down into abysmal depths of despair did create
Indelible psychological affects undermined existence I now equate
writ horrendous emotional, physical and social upon head of mate
Pledged his troth (almost 2 decades ago), which spouse doth berate
For lack of expressed concern and attests schizoid psychic slate
irrevocably seared and stunted natural development where I rate
prepubescent, early adulthood mental illness did grate
Against once boisterously playful innocent boy crushed potentate
Only male heir from me deceased mother who tried to extirpate
Mailer daemons who forged suicide pact and via voice did dictate
Albeit without success, yet decry forsaken innate
Experiences with female relationships lured my own poisoned bait!

Premium Member The Lord, He Is God

King of kings, He is on the throne,
Lord of lords, He rules the earth,
Mighty God, comparable to none,
Never-ending One, who can measure His worth?

Only Potentate, He is true and just,
Perfect, He is the Ancient of days,
Quenches the soul when on Him we trust,
Righteous, inscrutable are all His ways.

Shepherd and Bishop, our souls does He keep,
To Him be all glory forever and ever,
Unsearchable are His judgments so deep,
Victorious, He will reign as King forever.

Who is there like unto our God?
X-raying us, every thought He has read 
Yesterday, today and forever, He is Lord,
Zealous to perform all that He has said.

---------------------
8.9.16

Premium Member Independence

INDEPENDENCE


I have observed that America is a Democratic Republic with high values on the INDIVIDUAL 

We are 50 States, some of whose economies rival other countries; yet we are one NATION.

Yes, we have fought each other in a bloody war; yet we are one and shall not be DIVIDED.

As a nation, we set our goals and aim for the heights, flying and soaring like the EAGLE.

We are not about “He, the President or He the Potentate”, but all about “We The PEOPLE".

Our nation is not perfect, but at its core, “We Believe That All Men Are Created EQUAL".

We are blessed and prosperous; and as a people, we pause to give thanks every NOVEMBER.

So often, similarities make great people; but the strength of America is its DIFFERENCES.

Some of our rights are granted through government; there are others that are God ENDOWED.

We have One President, 100 Senators, 435 Representatives, and Supreme Court Justices are NINE.

Our country is a Republic and not a Theocracy; but most of our founding fathers believed in a CREATOR.

It has been said that America is great because we are good; may our goodness long ENDURE.

Cj07/19/2015


Jesus Is

GOD THE ALPHA AND OMEGA,
IS OUR ALMIGHTY KING
BELOVED AND BLESSED POTENTATE, 
TO HIM WE ARE TO SING.
GOD OUR COUNSELLOR,
CREATOR OF MANKIND IS HE;
DAYSPRING, DELIVERER 
AND PART OF THE HOLY TRINITY.
EMANUEL, GOD WITH US,
THE EVERLASTING ONE;
HE THE FATHER OF LIGHTS HAS FORGIVEN
AND THE SACRIFICE IS DONE.
GOOD MASTER, GREAT HIGH PRIEST,
GUARDIAN OVER THE SAINTS;
OUR HIGH TOWER KEEPS US
SO WE DO NOT FAINT.
MADE IN THE IMAGE OF HIS FATHER,
HE IS THE INFINITE ONE;
JEHOVAH THE JUDGE, OUR JUSTIFIER,
IS THE GREAT HOLY SON.
KING OF KINGS, LORD OF LORDS;
AND THE LIVING BREAD IS HE;
LORD OF GLORY, LIFE EVERLASTING
AND THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.
MORNING STAR IN THE VAST HEAVENS ABOVE;
MESSIAH, MASTER AND THE GIVER OF LOVE.
MAN OF SORROWS WHOSE BLOOD WAS SHED;
PRECIOUS CORNERSTONE THE CHURCH'S HEAD.
THE GREAT PHYSICIAN THE SICK HE MADE WELL;
OUR RANSOM, OUR ROCK 
WHO REDEEMED US FROM HELL.
SOVEREIGN SAVIOUR,
SHARON'S ROSE WE ADORE;
THE TRUE VINE WITH
UNSPEAKABLE GIFTS IN STORE.
JESUS OUR TEACHER IS 
OUR VICTOR TILL HIS RETURN;
WONDERFUL WORD OF LIFE,
THE PERFECT WAY TO LEARN.
ALL THESE NAMES REFLECT
OUR LORD AND KING;
EL OLAM - EVERLASTING GOD
OVER EVERY LASTING THING.

Plight of a Woman

A diminutive girl, born in a colossal world.
Originate as a weed, no one like to plant this seed.
All and sundry cried and swept, feeling depressed
the outcome of their sleepless nights was not perfect, 
the girl was never given respect.
Being discriminated and the only one who is unwanted, 
never meant to be created.
Struggle for basic amenities like contented lavatory,
Not allowed to hold the school satchel, 
and that is the biggest battle.
Her struggle is on but she will never move on,
Find her comfort in a government school, 
whereas brother goes to good institute,
learns the importance of school, pen and other tools.
Finishes pronto all domiciliary work but her studies never suffer,
when outclassed she was ignored 
and sacrifices still counted as buffer .
After marriage, in-laws and husband are primary,
beaten to death for small dowry,
her dream is to be Lowry.
Never scream and bicker, dodge others folly.
Women are quintessential trees,
they are the root of the family’s ease,
branches depict, they have nothing for themselves.
Are in the business of molding lives,
creating balance as a daughter, mother and wife.
Now she is a prolific writer,
she acknowledged her goal and became a powerful fighter.
The public’s mouth is shut,
and she is a stimulus for all girls, women and young adults.
A women’s plight is only to study and not be a young wife
she can show that she is the potentate of her own life.

Modern Shaman

Charcoal tar and gold brown tobacco
are both packed into a paper stick pressed
firm and trusting to the lips of a modern shaman
inhaling a cloud of harsh, strong, bold, and bitter barbs
that caress the tongue and prick and stick to pink organ flesh.

Disorientating nicotine is potentate in his scheme
it's purpose similar to black coffee; smooth and polished
blended beans for those late nights and early mornings.

His baked euphoria is living a constant maximum dosed out
and measured into separate jars of aromatic herbs.
Some for brewing, some for burning
each action acting in different ways to bring forth the contained mystic
hidden, shackled, held bare within his copper frame
conducting the currents of living, learning, thriving emotion
and like alchemy the chemistry
is solid.

He is the sum of all his parts.
He is the sum of all his senses.

Jolts, bolts, and shudders are
controlled through clever use of contraband
to establish simultaneous fluidity of thought and action;
Thereby soothing the soul and softening the daily struggle;
bluntly unnatural to every one of us
simple lovers of peace and passionate emotion.

He chases the dragon
He chases experience
through vistas both brief, and limited in scope,
to gain a sense of things
Great.

He is rounded at the corners
He is the sum of curved edges
smoothed and polished
(like coffee beans) in composition
balanced
by talented influence.

He is the stone worn strong
by paving a path where none is present.
He is the sword forged strong
through temper and tradesmen excellence.

He is man standing tall against the landscape
held up as a bastion of collected worth,
with marbled walls all round in a carved statue of constructed rock
aged fine by the time and the wind of the element opposition.
He separates the skyline,
the layline,
the landscape,
and delegates the elevation of the land beneath his feet.

He moves, builds, crafts, and dictates
(as the spider to the fly)
to bring his titan pen to the white page;
empty and inviting.

So Unsettling, To Say the Least

The sight of this bourgeois, career politician/businessman

(A so-called liberal, no less)

Seated high on the dais at the all candidates meeting,

Looking down on his constituents.


Trying to look as human as possible,

He's wearing his best crocodile smile tonight.

And no matter how hard he tries to look harmless,

He still looks slightly inhuman, perhaps like a

Conspiratorial, world-enslaving E.T., or 

Somewhat mad, Byzantine potentate.


Reptilian, his soulless, lifeless eyes momentarily

Slide back and forth in their sockets,

Back and forth across the crowd before him,

As he scrutinizes, with a cold, calculating, alien look,

His sheep-like electoral victims-to-be.


Or maybe what's most disturbing, even truly

Frightening, is that the strange look in his eyes

Actually seems like the look in the eyes of, God forbid,

The 12-year-old sociopath whose photo was in the newspapers:  

The unfortunate, little monster who tragically, heartbreakingly,

Willfully murdered a child half his age.


In a truly gentler, kinder world,

Work would not make a person merely enslaved;

Family would not be used as a weapon against one;

And the struggle for liberty would not, in

Effect, make real freedom the domain of only the few.

A Genesis Mimesis Part 2

Adam from and by his side Eve blessed to replenish                                                             to rule over the things moving land air and sea giving meat to all                                       the green herb the fruit bearing seed after His kind it was good										             Blessed Poet potentate and man saw everything good on the sixth page    											heavens and earth finished with multitude to dwell ending his work on seventh page										blessed set apart this day for the gracious Host rested even now men search                          for metaphors similes to fill pages poems and prose words of worth                                                 to artfully describe creation life imitates life after His kind                                                   even in a fallen world after satans pride Eve being naive Adam listening to her voice                                            rather than God's the Poet maker Jesus in similitude                                                           yet He is without sin humbled Himself being born like we                                                              the true light came to heal creation walked again on the water                                                        for all to believe the Lamb's blood shed thy sin be forgiven thee                                          the Lord of the sabbath still plowing the way the Seed died and rose again 	                                             					God said bringing forth much fruit watering with words                                                             blessed are the poets of love saved justified 									redeemed resting in promised words from above                                                                  waiting to fly away to greener pastures 									          	a new heaven and new earth we look forward                                                                     to our Maker's life within the Poet's breath
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

The Elemental's Confession As a Peace Offering

"The Elemental’s Confession as a Peace Offering"



In the moment I lost my head
my hands tied without voice 
I wasn’t crucified

I was looking for some kind of 
release from the solitary confines
of a confessional habit that was 
reclaiming an unknown peace
bare legged, yet not running 
with the violins soaring 
in a sore heart

I was elemental,
some unknown mysterious being 

suspended inanimate 
in shades of dark amber 
immaculate, impaired and too late
crackling through the cameo potentate
black capsuled and swallowed by bitter smiles 
with my precious time drowned 
in captured glass, scrying, 
peeling back all the layers

a confession waiting 
unholy and holy
escaping a small mind
metronomed and pulse 
throbbing towards you 
telepathically, 
my sonar to this day, bleeds forth

encircling your heart
it is where I worship
it is my church 

bleeding tired heart beats
like a cathedral organ
pipes smoking, a tortured phantom’s hymn 
of an unending time it would seem, within
the brutish Bardo, Vulgate immersed
mind staked in the fire, still,
passionate and burning 

disconsolate
restlessly waiting 

for your confession
to me, 
that never came

to finally be opened 
to finally be set free

(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)






"I burned your picture last night
just to see you move. 
smoke illuminating
from those flashing signs"







1. Habit
2. Confession
3. Bardo
4. Vulgate
5. Elemental
6. Potentate
7. Immaculate, impaired

Avariciously She Wanted To Be a Poetess

Two Poems



Avariciously she wanted to be a poetess

Cryptic colloquial eloquent words possessed

Often elusive eschewed from the theme

Limericks and rhymes avoiding etymology means

She an emissary of exonerated poetry banned

Refused extrication to facilitate an easy read

Hoped the fallowed grounds would lead the thieves

Foolhardily challenged the spies of poetry

Used furtive and feasible ingenious loquacious words

For the myopic poet seeing past opaque platitudes

A potentate poetess unconstrained by rules

Made a prudent decision of quiescent raconteur

 

The timorous young woman without any means

Observed scant observations of her apparent world

A sense of rectitude despite the rancid rooms

Holding profoundly laud regarding the state of penury

Perhaps, she myopic to any morose situations

A genius idiosyncrasy to others observations

Reading her books extraneous to any interpretations

Choosing eruditions to edify accusing disdains

Definitively making her way, condoning opinions

The cantankerous say.

Escaping reality with ambivalent

Articulate assents by way of academic astute ebullience

The Prime Directive Quiz ( P D Q) Or Prolix Drama Queen Part One

When You Really Discern… 
‘Why The Drama?’ Pattern
and Pending-Adoration,
 Pertains-Peroration
When You Perceive… 
Who Demands and Why?...  Proceed… 
… to Ply and Pry to Ascertain…
’ He Deserves This Portion-Acclaim’
  and Drumming-Heart, Soulful-Desire…
and Defer-Strength to Dry-Pyre
 and Humble-Pie, Donated-Data –
 in Your Plea-Bargain-Brain- Por-Nada
Disperse the Diaspora
Prefer Real-Deal and Retain Prerogative-Honor

 To, The Divine and Peerless… 
 Person of God – of Pure-Spirits
…  Whose Personage Positively… 
Remains Due-Homage and Dignity
…The Pinnacle… 
Of  The Direct-Pact - Empirical 
Drawn and Done, 
with His Precious DayStar-Son,
 Who Deigned to Come
by The Father’s Decree… 
 Was Dispatched with Poise-Prudently
as Probe and Provision… 
for Our Poverty and Pleurisy-Drain-Derision

He is The Pivot-Portrayal of Royal… 
and Portal-To-Pace-Immortal
This Diadem-Prince-Progeny… 
of Dazzling Famed-Piety and Propriety!
The Possessor and Presenter 
and The Permission-for-us-to Speak and Palace-Enter
The Premium-Derivative-Son,
 This Potentate Happy One...
 Proof-Explained and Patent-Won
Delving Mysteries; Described Memories; 
Drawing Forth Miracle-Draperies
and In Deference… 
As A Pro-Dative – Proconsul-Presence… 
He Maintains Preference
and Displays:  That, The Dynamic-Will… 
and Determined-Purpose Still,
Definitely,  is Top-Priority…
 One… and The Preeminent-Same… Pardon-Plea
He Is The Presiding – Deciding-Door-Key…
Precisely! -  Praise-Accordingly!

For We Are Wind-Swept, Droves of Dust… 
Dirt and Air-Gusts,  
Now, Plundered-Seeds… Still-Planted… 
Packed to Earth, Properly-Contained and Patted
 if We Continue to Divide… 
Disfigure, Pilfer and Hide 
From SonShine, then in Dirty-Prairie…
 We’ll be Permanent-Lain- and Perjury
If  ‘We Choose’ to Develop… 
Too Low-Down, to Peel-Hope
  or Plow-Perverted… 
The Preview, We’ll Not Regain…(We Deserted!)
Its Our Duty and Delight… 
to Reach Dawn-Heights
and Par-Policy:  Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse

Premium Member Fighting Chilblains

Come now, you days so dreary,
with thoughts mundane and weary.
Both windy rain and bitter cold,
find comfort in blains and days of old.

To sit and sigh and wonder why
this if and when the eyes are dry
and the coals no longer lit are pale
in the wake of stormy frozen gale.

Until the frost is no longer on the glass
neither inside, outside in stormy blast.
And the Spring thaw comes in strident strain
to greet us with warmth and smiles again.

It lays a comfort blanket on us in haste as
we smile inside ourselves...what a waste!!!
While sitting we muse upon our fate....
Glad it rests not in the hands of a potentate

My thought for tonight, anno dominie Jan 23, 2019
Charles Grady Henderson

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