Best Potentially Poems
I am seated in a bed-like rock
Under the foothills this is a single block
The Sun rises behind my back
Though I face hills in the west, its rise I could track
The dawn delightfully unfurl
Mother nature decorates herself, like a girl
The valley is full of greenery
This is a soul soothing summer scenery
Flies are flying in group
With joy and strength, to recoup
Honey bees are busy flying from one to other flower
A fresh flower spreads the fragrance in the air
A group of sparrows fly at a low height
Jubilantly enjoying the new light
A tiniest sparrow dances by jumping from one leaf to the other of a plant
On seeing this, I too wish to jump out of joy, like an infant
Peacocks register their scream from a nearby place
I could hear well, as this area is ruled by peace
From a distant rock, a pair of peacock looks
Displaying the richest colors of their outlooks
Birds potentially program their offspring by singing to their eggs, at a short distance
One may think that they raise the voice with a grievance
Before me, a rabbit runs ruthlessly
Forgetting self, I sit here like lifelessly
Fight of monkeys upon trees on the top of the hill, comes like a melody
Free for all, as the whole range is under His custody
Clouds try to attract my attention with an array of colors
Peace as the Prince on the stage, countless others are actors
Breeze blows as if to say she is the most adorable among all
Of course, choosing the one among all is hard to tell
This is a mind moving morning
In my life, this day is a fine inning
My heart desires to lie under this foothill
But my soul is not full
as my mind yearns for my love
Of course, this place is like a paradise, as above
If I am to cherish my love even in a paradise,
the power of love, you may be pleased to praise
Though I stay away at a far off place
The feelings of romance runs like a race
To live here, to the God, I shall be abundantly faithful
But to conquer my soul, other than such love, nothing is more powerful !
The Adjective Twin: A Poem of Pain
I am "presumptuous" -- and with my brother, "arrogant"
we are the adjective twin of "gentle" blame
of "gentle" wounding, of "gentle" continued "colonization"
constantly in an "unconscious" search for unsuspecting names to attach to,
so that we can remain collectively unconscious of our shadows.
We were born (and are constantly re-born)
from the culturally "unconscious" womb of (even "progressive") white privilege,
with the help of "pre-judgment" the midwife who abhors "decolonization."
And heed this warning: We do NOT like mirrors, because clear mirrors tell
(at an uncomfortable-making non-white-privileged "pace" of needed transformation)
the kind of "decolonization" truths that inconveniently bring to consciousness "well-intentioned" unconscious "Orientalisms,"
("Truths" that could potentially flourish into "Reconciliation" healing--IF allowed mirror-full-ness);
and these kinds of truth make my brother and I really (mostly "unconsciously") uncomfortable,
because we don't resonate with mirrors, with reflection,
'cause rather than truthfully being "set free"
we like to be comfortable in our privilege.
When we, the adjective twin attach ourselves to unsuspecting names
(who expect standards that befit real civility, real nonviolence, real caring)
Mother Earth's mirrors of tearful eyes break in 1,001 pieces of feel-goodist "progressive" self-deception,
that "gently" kill peace--on Earth.
Don't blame us, though,
(and definitely, but "gently" DO silence the wailing sirens of inconvenient awakening)
because we are the adjective twin,
and the "progressive" harm we cause is ever so "gentle" and "well-intentioned," you see?
By: Moji Agha (Mojtaba Aghamohammadi)
Monday, March 26, 2018
Boulder, Colorado
Normally, I'm not one to be alarmed by things that go bump in the night,
But the other night I saw something that gave me a most dreadful fright!
I awoke to make a visit to you know where (as us old guys are prone to do)!
As I lay there half asleep, a very eerie figure came into my field of view!
Still in a sleepy stupor, at the foot of the bed, I saw a spectre peering at me!
I pulled the covers over my ears yet kept one eye open so that I could see,
Who this interloper could be that so rudely interrupted my peaceful rest,
And could surely be the cause of a potentially serious cardiac arrest!
A ray of moonlight shone upon the scary apparition causing me more alarm!
My spouse was serenely snoring and I hesitated to poke her with my arm.
I moved and it advanced toward me - it was a most fearsome sight!
I saw that it had several appendages, all glowing ghostly white!
Things were looking rather grim for me on that dark and stormy night!
To make matters worse, the clock struck twelve reminding me of my plight!
The shaking of the bed and chattering of my teeth aroused my wife to wake!
I cautiously pointed to the spook that caused her to do a double take!
Now the bed was really shaking due to her uncontrollable guffaw!
She pointed out a startling fact that caused me to drop my jaw!
"You addlepated nincompoop! From you I don't want to hear another peep!
That spook you saw was your foot so shut up and let me get back to sleep!"
Entry for Brendon J. Simons' "Hallucination" Contest
I haven’t been here in a while
At this point in my life that is.
The point where something great becomes misconstrued
more filled with angst instead of jovialness.
Shot through the heart:
Bang.
It hurts me to be here, hurts me to say this
But I would rather kill it, dissipate it
Then let it continue; I know I’d hate it.
I’d rather be preemptive, stay ahead.
To avoid the potentially hurtful aftermath
It’s the type to grip you by your soul and
make you want to O.D during a bubble bath.
This is just to let you know how hard it is.
It’s hard because there’s so much invested
If any shots come my way I understand;
As it seems to hardships I no longer feel the need to contest it;
It’s a love hate type of thing.
I hate that you may think the love was not all it could’ve been,
Yet we both know through hardships we made it, but this is now and that-
That was then.
No need for animosity we’ve agreed to drink in friendship responsibly
And if the time comes again where everything is lined up for both of us
Then I guess I won’t need the help of E-harmony.
This is not to say by any stretch that it is expected
or that you owe me anything by any means
but our present time is past, that’s the way the future makes it seem.
This is a divorce of sorts as are all relationships
No one courtship is perfect and this one’s included in that statistic
So despite what everyone around you might say
(Those opinionated idiots)
And even despite what your anger may make you think
We sailed on love, hurdled every obstacle, made impossible possible
But to perpetuate, a lack of being affectionate, is highly illogical.
Mix in the emotions we both possess and things become highly volatile.
We just need to get back to the basics, start anew,
With our eyes on the future with pens not pencils
There won’t be a need to erase it.
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
__________________________________________
Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
Tesla’s mind, A kinetic, static attic filled to the brim;
With magical ease he displayed his energy laboratory.
In centrifugal dance, grey matter clogs to universal energy; round and round, resounding souls spew forth from Tesla tricks.
Burning holes in his soul’s pockets; creativity never sleeps. On the astral mind mingles with hyperactive atoms; their playtime, births a genius.
Tesla mind, like Einstein’s mind; a conglomerate of power, imprisoned by temporary mortality and oh, the miraculous echoes upon the ethers, eternally.
Science is a spoiled child; a self-limiting ego. The greatest minds go far beyond it. Answers sought, eluded by egoist, viral limitations; are potentially, forever lost. Tesla mind will present them, in another future.
Tucked up for a night in a cold, black hole; Tesla mind tricks await their next performance on planet Earth. Who will see and hear the static charge; that’ll manifest future miracles? Who will realize what they’ll witness?
Tesla mind’s bunk mates are few and far between; ego never recognizes genius, in its own time.
It’s amazing how a simple glass of wine,
Can unleash a hidden thought or meaning
You’d think as much as I’ve consumed in life,
I would have a tome that’s gleaming
Full of wise, sagacious oratory
Of thoughts that help the mind
But maybe it’s all piffle, of the wrong kind
You see it’s a very simple thing,
If you’re a writer from the heart
It doesn’t matter how or if you cloud it,
It may someday become someone’s art
God has provided us one of many bounties, the grape
That sometimes helps unleash the sometimes hidden shape
Of some very blessed minds from the most blessed of us all
It may be a way to help reach our true selves, or sometimes break through a wall
So now that I’ve made this potentially absurd assertion
It’s time to prove the theory, with some not so perfect allocution
Of some wise, thoughtful insight into a single glass of wine
For without passion and effort in the making
It may not enable the divine
So maybe try a glass of the fermented grape
When next you feel the block of the writer,
And when others read your work thereafter,
Things may turn out brighter.
Robotics To Come
In the Star online today, there are a few articles on robotics....
From a robotic language teacher to an IKEA furniture assembler....
And the introduction of robotic workers in the construction sectors...
Besides the all too familiar mechanical arms in car assembly lines the world all over....
There are already mobile robotic waiters in some eating outlets....
Presently as a prop and as a novelty item to draw in paying customers...
The verdict is out there, about the latest technologies and innovation......
These are being introduced to counter problems of labour shortages and expertise...
Hohoho....
Even a teacher's job is now potentially in jeopardy...
Who needs a cranky school teacher when you can have your pick...
Of a sweet sexy voiced robot that is non judgemental and of infinite patience...
Hohoho...
He walked outside the mirror of
solitude,
And greeted with the purest of
stares.
Confused by this clairvoyant twin, my
fearful color was intact;
I awaited his response, and he spoke in familiar
tongue these following passions.
He spoke of that Sagittarius moon he
celebrates,
when the 22nd day presents itself.
In earlier episodes of himself,
he continuously advanced through blind
hallways,
with no afterthought of the internal flame,
potentially burning in his honor.
He revealed sketches of himself, that await
discovery.
The silent preacher remains his
title,
yet with every curious ear,
his history is awarded audible.
He became an unwritten author a
lifetime ago,
a sigh of relief was expressed,
as he became every metaphor,
thereby regaining those thoughts
of yesterday.
He still dreams of that fatherly
silhouette.
A favorite thought of tomorrow,
to borrow a voice, from this male
influence,
now absent from land.
The thought of plural skies visits him
constantly,
he’s never forgotten the idea of unity,
although on occasion,
it’s faded portrait appears fictional.
He awaits his inspiration in
reality.
Those white walls that surround him in
military stance,
are assumed to be his only company.
However, he’s confident in his legacy, found in
similar souls.
After exposing this identity of truth, he felt
completed,
I too, became a turning stone.
Before retreating, I asked for the word, that
complimented his image,
He simply thought Jiril.
Steam clouds on mirror
Hide the reflection in blurred
Chose to be unknown
Hidden soul not speak
It says through the words of eyes
I'm living in you
Unnamed solely side
Lived from the remained shadow
Under self conscious
Friend or predator
Both are potentially hurts
Pick the wise answer
Make peace with yourself
Take two sides in good or bad
Those, the shapes of you
I think she is treated as more special.
She is a fellow female employee.
My Jealousy, I do not want to see.
An unbecoming feeling;
I hope, it is not revealing.
Next, I start to feel resentment.
Another emotion causing lack of contentment.
Add my belief that that jealousy is not my cup of tea.
What does all this say about me?
From one problem, potentially two or three!
When entering the epicenter that is our kitchen
I immediately sensed the seismic activity
My ears tuned to the argument that was ensuing
the growing magnitude on the Richter scale
the continental drift between my mother and father
It made me turn to follow Denali (the family dog)
who was smart enough to flee
....He knew before me
"Get back here" my father yelled
"where do you think you are going" said my mother
I knew i was walking into a 7
potentially an 8
In a mantra I chanted
minimize damage
minimize damage
minimize damage
So I sat silent at the table
lowering my eyes
hoping not to add to the mounting friction
the electrical unrest
Dinnertime conversation
was always the same ....
who was at fault
who is crossing the line
& I the seismologist
was expected to referee
Their ring of fire
I could tell by the cool crust of my mother
and the hot mantle of my father
that the earth was shifting
and in the silence that ensued...
that hair standing straight on my neck
the eerie calm before the storm
I was not prepared for the flash
of tectonic plates flying across the room
my mothers aim dead on
the cracking of shelves and glass
the splintering of the boards beneath our feet
the aftershock of my father's fury
Me
Quaking
My Favorite Pet
I was a lanky pre-teen
with course, thick blond hair
on that hot summer day
when mom, sister and I
rode in our station wagon of gray
to see our potentially new Collie pup
A mere 4 months old
love pouring out of her eyes
as she ran up
A thick, shiny fur coat
and 4 toothpick legs
Like a connection I never felt before
in so many ways
For 7 wonderful years, Shelby brought light
to my darkest of days
took "me" for long walks
slurping cooked noodles the craze
all the neighbors knew Shelby
on Mulberry Lane
Towards the end of Shelby's days
her light started to dim
I knew the end was near
as tears poured from my red. swollen rims
16 years later...the course, thick hair and lankiness gone
her unconditional love lives in me
and I no longer feel alone.
Pick A Pet Contest - sponsored by Francine Roberts 7/5/2011
Life most certainly has its ups and downs.
Sometimes life may be as breathtaking as a Galaxy of whimsical Starburst.
Heroes and adored Lifesavers protect our most beloved towns.
The pessimistic Goobers in life are the absolute worst.
Even if there is a bump in your Rocky Road, remember you will always reach your dreams.
If you claim that you cannot fit in with the Smarties, then you are nothing but an Air Head.
Swim towards your goal like Swedish Fish soaring through a flowing stream.
Take 5 to pause and think, invent the next Whatchamacallit instead.
Tootsie Roll down your window and shout out in joyous bliss,
ignore Mike and Ike’s conniving Snickers.
Be ahead of the crowd because the Slo Pokes always miss.
Admire how the glorifying star within the Milky Way flickers.
Nothing is more rewarding than a gleeful Pay Day,
take the 100 Grand with pride because you earned it.
The Dove coos above and the illuminating smile on your face is there to stay,
but if you begin to taste the nauseating flavor of distasteful sourness, do not put up a fit.
Remember that one must taste the sour in order to appreciate the sweet,
take a risk like one of the Three Musketeers.
Think about all of the Hot Tamales you could potentially meet.
Face all of those belittling Whoppers of fears.
Eventually, you will connect all of life’s meaningful Dots.
Life will become a Candyland where it only rains colorful Skittles.
Run the exhilarating Marathon and miss Zero sweet spots.
Eventually, you will learn to adore life’s mind-boggling riddles.
October 4, 2018
How Sweet It Is Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Connell
Naturally regenerative
living systems,
like Earth
optimize global ecological opportunities
as co-redemptive economies
of loving solidarity relationships
expressing mutual not-negative subsidiarity,
within a web of interdependent Win-Win default networks.
If we are born passionate investments
of past yang/yin regenerations
redeeming economic risks
weighed as ecological opportunity
for pleasuring pleasant peace
with active love for all species,
all nature,
all Earth,
all Universal Intelligence,
then are we also,
at least potentially,
an interdependent species
of co-redeeming economists
thinking and acting and relating and feeling
sensing and feeling and smelling and tasting
touching and respecting and appreciating ecologically balanced reasons,
seasons of time and pattern and rhythm?
Where fasting advents precede
and roundly follow
cornucopic polycultural seasons for all cells
and organelles.
We find and sustain co-therapeutic relationship balance
half way between Yang-ego's deductive-reductive immunity boundaries
and Yin-eco's intuitive receptive co-operativity,
co-redemptivity,
correlation-ability,
mutual empathic gratitude
polypathic trans-actional multisystemic relationships.
If co-redeemers are messiahs
then we are also mutual bodhisattvas
as we intend cooperative Win-Win eco-normative salvation
and eco-logically therapeutic outcomes.
Perhaps mutual messiahs find it simpler to wrestle with,
rather than against death's pain and suffering,
to figure out what to divest of
by reconnecting within each moment's present opportunity
to what and whom and when and where and why we invest integratively
with each Other's health and well-being,
co-redemptive economically rational, yet passionate, logic,
as well as Right-brain's intuitive temperate sense of balance,
proportion,
enthymematic syntax
permaculturing rooted rhythms
of mindful songs
and global dance.
Ego's Logos as co-determinate partner
with Eco's Right-brain Mythos
co-redemptive political design
re-creating economic developmental revolutions.