Best Pottage Poems
Pottage of lentil and bread
Thank you Lord I’m fed
With wheat, barley and flour
Filled my cup this hour
Overflows with grace
Bless this taste
Yes!
~~~~~~~
Place among 273 Semi-Finalist
Total of 1034 Entries
Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest
March 6, 2008
~~~~~~~
AMASOWONMWAN
At arm's, I am but your brethren,
Ne pas comrade
Pour food, most have sold
Their Honors for gold
Others, a pot of pottage
The tree only bends to the wind
Because it doesn't know how to do otherwise
Ainsi be wise, precautions taken
Births no aftermaths
You are not your father's son
Lest, you wear the family's emblem
Upright;
Off white greyish, ripen with time
Solely relying on faith
Hoping for the best,
Yet ignoring all good
Seeing nothing right with better.
Amasowonmwan
Strangers shan't lay a curse on you,
Nor take your portion
A few know your real names?
Iten edo
Even the gods forbid that a father bury a son
But then also
The child is the father of the man
Alright?
The darker the skin colour
The deeper the roots,
For sour sweet tastes the truth
Like rumor, solid liquid smells it flavour
Symbolisms of our ancestral struggle.
Fear what you know
Not the unknown,
All these and more
Are reasons why people drown
At ovia river.
ghops
It’s Christmas day
Hip hip hooray
With festive cheer
And our family here
The feast begins
Amidst all our grins
Crackers pulled, mottos read
Fancy hats upon each head
With turkey eaten
We’ll not be beaten
Enter the flaming pud
Which looks so good
But whence it came?
This pudding of fame
‘Twas a Roman cook
Where first we look
Making pottage of meat and veg
Placing in readiness on a window ledge
By the fourteenth century frumenty it became
Meat with fruit, wine and spices, it was not the same
This soupy dish was a fasting meal
A preparation for Christmas was the deal
With added eggs, breadcrumbs and fruit it changed once more
Plum pudding lasted until banned under Puritan law
The arrival of King George, the ‘Pudding King’
Got the outlawed pud back in the swing
For his royal feast he did declare
Plum pudding would be the dessert fayre
By Victorian days the meat had gone
Enter the Christmas pud known by everyone
Merry Christmas!
~~~
A seasonal frame of mind led to this!
STAY OR GO yes or no?
An offshore island we remain,
whether we stay or go..
But our history we need now
to declaim.. and say No!
Truly enfranchised for only a
few decades,now cheaply given
away for a pottage of gold...
all without our say so..
Sacrificed on politicians' ego trips.
We, the people,the everyday man..
back to square one of a century ago..
Disenfranchised again,ruled by a few..
part of another illusory 'grande ideale'.
Our kin so recently fought to win the war
..but we so easily gave away the peace..
Time again,for the English common man
to say No,to regain our release...
Time for this undemocratic 'Union' to cease..
Time for us to depart,we do not 'belong'
It's time to move on..
put once more 'our enfranchised horse'before
'our' cart.
The 'global village' is now here.. a larger
stage on which England,on its own,
with much to give..can play a full part.
You may hear me recite my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
Hunting lips of rage shoot like a barrage
these sounds put on the run, a nearby witch
the victim’s now in need of bandage
covering the whole body stitch after stitch
everything near cracks, even the table
and all sense of opposition just die
try to calm her if you are able
if not satisfied, nothing she can buy
the louder she gets as the more she’s old
then her views rust to stay rigid and tight
junk of her patience, she’s already sold
as emotions run fast and out of sight
her internal heat burns any pottage
run from crazy mama, the new adage.
A vessel made for ultimate good,
God fashioned me in His image,
Not knowing my intrinsic value
I sold myself for a mess of pottage.
Being marred in the potter's hand,
but always His beloved daughter,
He made me again another vessel,
still created for good, but much better.
Just as Esau sold himself long ago,
ignorantly, I found I did the same.
I fulfilled lusts of the flesh and mind.
Fleshly pleasures never brought gain.
In sugary treats, the beggarly elements,
I hid from my fearful, negative feelings.
Tribulation revealed my heart's treasure.
I understood little of God's dealings.
Not loving myself for all my failures,
I'd make myself perfect to find love;
An erroneous goal to bring me glory.
All glory belonged to heaven above.
Why didn't He just give up on me?
It was a "wonder" I often questioned.
Meanwhile, I discovered His mercy,
patience, forgiveness and compassion.
"You finally found out how", He said.
His "words", before it all was finished,
gave me added courage to keep trying.
My determination was not diminished.
"Find out how to do what", I asked?
"To have peace; trust and obey."
He knew it alluded me at the time.
There was so much more to convey.
Allowing me to suffer consequences,
I began slowly to walk in the light.
His love, while pondering His words,
guided me in the darkness of night.
Little did I know His meaning of,
"Stop just dipping in your toes!"
"Immerse yourself"; then light came.
I'd find help in His word for my woes.
Immersing myself in His Holy word,
I found grace to help in time of need.
The more often I immersed myself,
I grew toward the light with speed.
No longer are the beggarly elements
A place for me to hide from negativity.
Embracing love for Him, self and others.
I'm no longer blind but now I finally see.
In the light of his indescribable love,
perfectionism didn't leave much room
for His work and ultimately His glory.
His grace and mercy can now resume.
The rope is tight around my neck
And I feel it making its imprint
Into my flesh.
I glance at the growing crowd
That has gathered round
To watch me perform my trick.
In the crowd I see only pale faces
Whose lifeless laughing pupils seem to sear
Into my flesh.
I turn from them to look at my hands,
Hands callous from cotton-picking in bands
But at last I am freed by God's graces.
I can still smell the pottage heating by the fire
I can still feel the embers jumping out
Into my flesh.
I can still see the corner, full of refuse
I can taste my bloodied molars, loose
After a thorough clubbing from the Sire.
I can see my mother being stripped and whipped
I can see my father drenched in burning tar that seeps
Into his flesh.
See my sisters displayed naked and bare
See them modeled like two healthy mares
Hear my brother's sigh as his lashing is skipped.
But I, thank God, am more fortunate than these:
I am released at once from the burden
That trembles the flesh,
Spared from the torture, from the agony,
Whisked away in a chariot stately.
And thank God for the oak, the sweet gum, trees
That have mercy on me, that grant my wish,
(Euthanasia)
FREEDOM.
And SNAP! the sand-bags hit the dirt...
Oh, America,
my beloved America.
The world owns your soul,
and chortles as catastrophe comes.
Bartered was your legacy,
for riotous living,
and pottage no longer gratifies
your innards cravings.
Terrorist lambaste your innocent,
and spread false doctrines.
Fear and anxiety hold you captive,
casting foreboding shadows o'er your land.
As a mongrel wallowing in its vomit,
so it is, you and your sin.
Having no vision of signet ring and fatted calf,
your robe now drapes a self righteous frame.
Has the line in the sand been crossed?
While your flag still flies, the eagle soars,
and your Statue of Liberty stands erect,
return unto the father.
Oh America,
my beloved America,
God loves thee more than I.
To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
when I heard
you was gonna
represent Tom
at the trial
and share the widow’s homelier pottage
bowed ‘til your bonnet brushed the floor
far below you saw the bricks on the floor
mostly these are seen as food labels
stooped and raised your knees,
because of laziness
the dust of the city
backward down your back so thin
like ducks.
And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”
(This poem was created using snippets from other poems.)
It’s Christmas day
Hip hip hooray
With festive cheer
And our family here
The feast begins
Amidst all our grins
Crackers pulled, mottos read
Fancy hats upon each head
With turkey eaten
We’ll not be beaten
Enter the flaming pud
Which looks so good
But whence it came?
This pudding of fame
‘Twas a Roman cook
Where first we look
Making pottage of meat and veg
Placing in readiness on a window ledge
By the fourteenth century frumenty it became
Meat with fruit, wine and spices, it was not the same
This soupy dish was a fasting meal
A preparation for Christmas was the deal
With added eggs, breadcrumbs and fruit it changed once more
Plum pudding lasted until banned under Puritan law
The arrival of King George, the ‘Pudding King’
Got the outlawed pud back in the swing
For his royal feast he did declare
Plum pudding would be the dessert fayre
By Victorian days the meat had gone
Enter the Christmas pud known by everyone
Merry Christmas!
Before Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Before Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
Before all concerned attempted to fix him
Before they all failed to make him great again
He was first an exported idea from the old country
Such an idea was anathema where Humpty was from
So Humpty succeeded far above and beyond expectation
In reality, Humpty was an idea whose time had come and
no one, but no one could stop Humpty from being the greatest
because he was, in essence, a great gift to a world of power mongers
So Humpty crossed the high seas and beat a trail through high weeds
He eventually explored and fought his way west from sea to shining sea
Similar to the Great Alexander, he conquered until there was nothing more
to conquer except the great outer space where he dreamed of living someday
But time was running out on Humpty and his people grew restless and self-centered. Having grown weary of lofty and noble pursuits, his countrymen eventually rebelled and turned against Humpty, against traditional values, against the Church, and even against the God of their fathers. He was stripped of his constitutional rights and sentenced to live out the rest of
his days sitting on a high wall on which there leaned a broken cross painted red, white, and blue. Humpty's family and friends were forced to move away, leaving him all alone and surrounded by foes, fools, and pleasure seekers. Puzzled, weak, feeble, and fainted, Humpty finally fell off the celebrated wall to
his death. After Humpty's death, it seems that the masses all of a sudden saw a great light that arrested and captured them because their hearts were broken over the demise of Humpty. They prayed and labored feverously to restore Humpty to life again but to no avail. Humpty was gone. It was too late. In Humpty Dumpty they had what the whole world longed for, but they gave it all up for a 'mess of pottage' (pride, pleasure, greed, indifference.........)* Sometimes it's too late to acknowledge that which we once ignored.
06242018PoetrySoupContest, The Mystery of Humpty Dumpty, Faraz Ajmal 3P, *Genesis 25:29-34
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Picture # 4 used as inspiration
At our lakeside cottage where we have pottage at night
When autumn comes and russet mums' blossoms daze
Go to bed early, nothing to dread and wake by sun's light
As the sun sets there's no regrets just joy at summer's end
Fall wears her gown, her trees a crown as sun sends angular rays
All of those glorious colors and arboreous reflections seem to blend
Upon the lake beside our cottage , no place we've tried above it does rise
Our golden lab lying asleep, as nights slowly creep upon days
We peacefully rest, and feel so blessed as sleep softly creeps with surprise
I
We celebrate Labor (LABOUR)
This year, with more PRAYER
II
I prayed briefly for my country, the people
Singing the "Pater Noster" - FATHER IN HEAVEN:
In the wee hours, as I awoke, thankful
As born-again believers ought to feel, say ...
As we arise, for He kept us alive, for today
III
Talking to Father, Son, and Spirit -
Perhaps a delusion, akin to your own
Worshiping Capitalism, as a Market Force
More Holy than socialism, glorifying
Free Enterprise (Only gains are free for taking;
When markets fall, tax bails them out, saving
Face of "Free Enterprise," to the tune of trillions)
So my DELUSION gives me peace, no harm to you:
Thank you Jesus for Salvation, favor, and forgiveness
And RESTORING what man lost; waters & Forests
Especially the image inside us: we have so prostituted
For a plate of soup, like Esau, who we saw trade heritage
For a mess of pottage; not caviar or LEAN, but lentils -
Abba-Father in Heaven, HOLY is thy Name, hallowed be thy Name
Give us this day, our daily bread & COMMUNION
I want to see His Face, the face of favor and Grace
The Face of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Master, too
Holy is thy Name, O hallowed be thy Name
Help me forgive OTherS, as I've been forgiven
Abba-Father in Heaven - and help us through this virus
Bless my country and folk, bless the global village
We repent of our sins; Help us Holy Spirit
Teach us the right way; You are the Teacher Given
Rauch-HaKodesh, the Spirit of God, Spirit of Truth
Who recalls for us all that Jesus ever said
Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done ... Father-Son-and Spirit
We worship your Holy Name, in the Name of Jesus
Halleluljah and amen, Hosanna and Amen.
This was how it went down
Just before my countdown
I was sent in a lockdown
And was seen as a downtrodden
Caressed and scourged
How did i get down?
I wouldn't say
But i would if i could
I only slept for few seconds
Just to wake in a fine bondage
With someone feeding me with
Pottage
Of course the one i trusted
So i told you about me
And you hated me for being me
Whose fault is it that i grow?
While i called you "my person"
You pressed the button
And the dragon was unleashed
Well not this time
Because i woke while you slept
Took the fire extinguisher
And defended myself from the fire
Poured by your dragon
It had burned me enough
I wasn't shock when i knew
Its you
But i felt pity for your actions
Because i defeated the nightmare
Kindly read the letter i sent you
"Dear Ex- trusted one,
Do Wash My Trash"