Best Presumed Poems
I followed you from Galilee
To that sad day on Calvary
Of love You spoke
New hope You woke
Some said I was a prostitute
In me You saw no ill repute
My heart now cries
I watch You die
Sharp spikes that pierce Your hands draw blood
And through my heart emotions flood
A Son so blessed
Is laid to rest
Three days I stayed outside Your tomb
Never to see You I presumed
And though I mourned
Glory's reborn
I genuflect and watch You rise
To join Your Father in the skies
This blessed day
Showed us “The Way”
The sacrifice You made for man
Celebrated in many lands
Easter Sunday
Give thanks and pray
Written in the first-person view of Mary Magdalene, one of Christ’s best known
disciples. According to modern religious scholars, the Gospels of Mark and John say
she was the first person to see Jesus after he rose from the dead.
Did you think my friendship fickle,
thus deserving of the sickle
did you think that it would wither up and die?
Did you think my friendship faded
thus transforming true to jaded
did you think you could revive if you try?
Did you think my friendship lacking,
thus you sent me swiftly packing
did you think that you should stop and ask me why?
Did you think my friendship ended
thus presumed it can't be mended
did you think that you could leave without goodbye?
Well, my dear, let me assure you
That as friend, this girl is true blue
did you think I'd let you simply walk away?
Quiet wrong is your surmising,
and I find it quite surprising
that you'd think this friendship's was not here to stay
So, now listen, friend, just listen
Let these word's of friendship glisten
as on through these lines of poetry you play
I'll be here though sometimes silent
With a heart that's supple, pliant
Write the words, and don't be doubtful, dear, I pray!
Eileen Manassian
The Garden of Eden
Some people believe that the Garden of Eden
Was in Africa, Asia, Australia...not Sweden.
The presumed site of its location
Is assumed from the interpretation
Of which Good Book's being read…and who's doin' the readin'.
Noah
Noah's ark, neither yacht nor a sloop,
Was constructed to be one big animal coop.
On his crew It must have been a strain
That during forty days and nights of rain
To keep forking in fodder and scooping out poop.
It Ain't Necessarily So
Pious people are prone to become agitated
When agnostics assess their belief's overrated,
And the words that they're liable
To find in the Bible
By mere men were created, not divinely dictated.
[Written during a twelve hour power cut caused by
Storms this past winter]
The storm that arrived in the depth of the night
Got even worse with the new morning’s light
Although I presumed that they’d already know
I contacted the electricity co
I asked if they knew the whole town had gone dark
Are you fixing it or just having a lark
I think that I upset the man on the phone
He told me to wear a coat inside my home
Just listen to me, I said to the geezer
I think you should know I’ve got a dead freezer
Without any leccy it’s gonna defrost
And all of its contents are gonna be lost
We’re trying to sort it all out said the man
But I would suggest that you eat what you can
So I checked the freezer to sort out my tea
My cooker is gas which is lucky for me
I made my selection from my warming freezer
Fish fingers and chips… and ice cream and pizza
Sausages, drumsticks, a tasty rib-eye
Two rocket lollies, a steak and ale pie
Some prawns that I think have defrosted before
(I’m still gonna eat them because I’m not sure)
Some old sausage rolls from Christmas last year
A fisherman’s pie I’d forgotten was here
Another small pizza with awful fake cheese
An out of date bag full of freezer burned peas
Four quarter pounders and thinly sliced beans
I think I might loosen the belt of my jeans
I bleed poetry to heal through
midnight confessions.
Mistress’s ink does not seek
your caramelized validation;
it has no desire to please
your feed of presumed perfection.
I’ve never tamed this
skill as an online profession;
this is just an unbreakable obsession~
I’m drowning in for a distraction.
Don’t question my
hazy metaphors,
veiled away from towering
thorns of introspection,
too vague and meaningless
for the skies adorned
with sleeping stars.
These scribbles of sentimental
symbolism may cause
digressing reactions,
for I’ve been sewing a
waltzing nightmare,
whilst counting syllables
within concocted connotations,
surfing through wicked
schemes of sunset-colored
sestinas to sunflower sonnets.
Now I knit hyacinth haikus
in honeysuckle hues,
woven from pristine petals
amidst wilting wilderness,
awaiting twilight that
would awaken words written
in repetitive refrains,
reigniting the flames
between spaces on fragrant pages,
so dreams will no longer
be more peaceful
than the air I breathe.
Although these lines
do not rhyme with teal-green
tides that sketch
turquoise beginnings,
I still hope time can maybe
guide this canvas home.
Andy was a pretty young girl,
Flirty, fun, always busy, in a whirl,
She was popular at school,
Was intelligent, nobody’s fool
She never was short of a date,
But this would become her fate!
There was at college with Andy,
A nerdy guy called Randy,
Always unpopular heartily disliked,
He spent time alone, always hiked,
And occasionally, biked.
He asked Andy to join him one day,
She felt sorry for Randy, decided to say
Yes, so off they went on a trip
On his bike,
She had no idea Randy was
A complete psyche,
Rode far away from people in sight,
He bludgeoned Andy to death
With might
Used his bicycle pump, threw her down,
Off a mountain, into a shallow
Lake to drown!
Rode back to college, and was in tears,
His face had scratches, her friends
Worst fears,
Were foremost in their mind,
Randy was a freak, one of a kind!
She fell of the ledge Randy lied,
As he continued his story, and cried.
A helicopter flew to the scene,
The police were at this stage keen
To discover the absolute truth,
About this nerdy looking,
Pimply, youth.
Police feared that Andy was dead
The Chief of police at a
Press conference said,
Randy killed Andy, her hair stuck to his
Bicycle pump,
Pushed her and she had landed
Below in a slump.
Randy was found guilty, sentenced to die
By lethal injection,
Which didn’t bring back beautiful Andy,
With her fair complexion!
My first grandchild was turning three,
sweet girl with a motherly bent.
The perfect present seemed to be
a dollhouse; so, shopping we went.
She found one not by accident -
real bells for the front and back door,
three stories, carpet on the floor
two-car garage, a three bedroom,
kitchen and bath. Who could want more?
Memory on the breeze, presumed.
She had moved on, Kid's Kraft was done.
Trying to hide my discontent,
I asked, “What is wrong with this one?”
“It’s not real.” Not like home she meant;
her place, the five-room flat they rent.
The Little People caught her eye
"Here is my house," I heard her cry.
there's mom, dad and me, just like home."
With three dolls to boot, a good buy;
no chic decor, no polychrome.
Happy memory? not so true,
but truly it is in a way.
Only one went shopping, not two.
I bought that dollhouse on display
the fancy one, for her birthday
and sensed her dissatisfaction.
Her mom had bought the other one,
small with three dolls a child could clutch.
Three’s magic, mom’s gift so much fun
while mine sat at my house untouched.
written 02/03/2018
It’s truly Greek to me and you
“Agape” may sound like the English, agape
I gape; are we awed by Christ loving me and you
The human in me is a swine, sloppy and greedy for love
Consumers-Supreme, like shopping for shoes and food,
Hording homes, trophies, even the Dodo and dove
Beloved, the love of God is not to be presumed
The Creator of the behemoth, leviathan, and atom _
Imagine: He wants a relationship with puny humans
Imagine: His kiss, the force that holds up the universe
Prevents atoms from splitting in awe and fission
Gave all to love ... gives every gift, but we won't converse
O Holy Spirit, forgive me! I take too much for granted
The One who split the firmament into heaven and ocean
Who tells the blood how to make life’s music
Became a baby in Mary’s womb, to grow slow by slow
Suffer like us, become the Perfect Adam, such love
Only He can take my rags, wrap me in His High Priestly robe!
I used to be a romantic; forgive me for seeing how obscene
Is a love that is all face and human flesh
Forgetful, ungrateful of the source; agape love that kisses the perverse
How to conceive this, almost beyond any human being
Such love shames the greatest fairy tale or happily ever after
I want too much ... missing all the while, mysteries of living
Glory to Father-Son-Holy Spirit, amen.© Anil Deo, 20170331
Sometimes you ask me a question
When you already have the answer,
Sometimes you speak volumes
About matters you barely know,
Sometimes you ask for my opinion
Having presumed a judgment,
At times like these I listen, but never utter a word
And you respond in kind with a stern look.
January 16, 2018
Placed 3rd: Strand Pick 10 Contest by Brian Strand
I am resigned.
I was once full of neoteric life, fresh as morning dew.
Blank as a hardened sponge waiting for that morning, to
soak in all this life.
I was curious and surprised by the innocence of young creatures. Playful, and distracted by all the colors, flavors, scents, sounds, and textures whirling around me. I was but one drop of water yet presumed myself the storm.
I was then full of new life within my growing awareness. I was the life giver. The female womb, ripe as fruit from the tree. The planting of which was forbidden but irresistible in its passion and pleasure.
Life and death growing inside me.
I was then blind sided by reality, by my insignificant self.
I lost the morning dew, I lost the fevered curiosity, I lost the ego.
I was left with cold questions and fear. Knowing myself to be corruptible.
I became the seeker, the hunter, the collector of truth.
The water dried up, hardened the sponge once again with no more mist or dew to soak in. It was not for me.
The colors no longer distract.
The flavors have lost their savor.
No perfume in this decaying stillness.
I am deaf to their noises, and they shrink from my touch.
I am resigned to listen to my own thoughts… of what is to come.
I am resigned.
Solitude be damned to a final emotion
When we are puzzled by the mystery of life,
Inspired by misgivings in a distant memory
Touched by thought and opinion
Contemplate the meaning of passion and want
When the sun escapes to darkness,
And presumed is the want for wisdom possessed
Here in a shadows conviction;
Until the loudest sound came from quiet voices
Let the mind accept what our eyes imagine,
Until the solitude of inspiration is lost,
For meanings we gathered are soon forgotten
Here in the specter of thought
But oh to death is our journey bound
Down a road to kingdom come,
Where all is held to the quiet of its end
And judged by the silence within;
Until the loudest sound came from quiet voices
This is a long extended night,
The stars all hibernate,
The blustery gusts revolve around
The dreams which suffocate.
Now the torrents lash my door,
And now they slam the shade,
'Be couched right here, and do not move',
The whispers promptly bade.
Out there I glanced, the wild tree pranced,
She swayed her tipsy stem,
All drenched and dark, the leafy arc
Seems like her death-gown's hem.
Is that mere downpour, or a sign,
An omen of the time?
The thunders clash with louder splash,
Upon the lakebed slime.
My window pane is stabbed by rain,
One thousand spears en masse,
They prick the eaves, pummel the leaves
To the level of the grass.
The flickering lamp will die at once,
It does not cease to pour,
A marble sculpture drowns beneath
The water on the floor.
That which gives life can take it too,
Lo there it heaves its head,
The shrine's bemused, the priest presumed
A curse on holy bread.
It has to cease within no time,
The devil's thunder roars,
The gale allays his evil play
Withdraws his wondrous force.
28th September, 2021
I recall the story I was told when so young
Of a girl so beautiful, her life barely begun
She was all but fifteen on her way home from school
Taken at will by a crazy mountain fool
She disappeared, assuming they both went to ground
There was many a search, she never was found
Days passed, and weeks into years
As our community moved on, only her family shed tears
Then came the day when my story was retold
Inside my mind my memories to unfold
In another town far away from the past
Across the street my eyes did cast
For I spotted a young lady, with her father I presumed
But something clicked as my past was resumed
Thinking back to the reports and the newspaper clips
She always carried red roses as they matched her red lips
Is that her, that fifteen year old girl
Across the road living a different world
Do I intervene or lets things be
Is she the girl from my past I see
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-4.php
Bishop of our souls, looked below.
His blood, a flow.
Life, gave it all —
so great our fall.
The great I Am entombed. Presumed
that mankind’s doomed!
Angels abide
by Jesus side.
Of scripture, death is terrified.
His eyes are wide
when Jesus wakes —
bides fire in lakes.*
7/18/2021
12 Lines in Rhyme
Sponsor: Joseph May
Rhymezone & HMS
*bides - waits for
1 Peter 2:25 For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd (Bishop) and Overseer of your souls.
Revelation 20:14 Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire.
Bible Scriptures NIV
Night Shift Worker
At sunset is the beginning of our day
Darkness embraces our peevish spirit
Flashing neon signs bring us in esprit
We are mindful of making a living
Danger awaits us anytime
But this is where my feet are destined to go
Where the crime took place, I need to be there on time
My pen and camera come along to tell stories awhile ago
Steady and careful hands are attentive to ailing one
Life and death situation, I presumed life will always prevail
My job demands accuracy, for mistakes will hound my wisdom
Nursing to sustain a losing life will not fail
Eager to go to the heart of the sea
While the full-moon beams dwell into the deep
My fishnet awaits patiently for a catch
For early in the morning, I bring meals to a family
I need to be tough in any situation
Unwelcome visitors alert my action
To guard premises and valuables stay untouched
By greedy creatures harmful to the serenity of the place
The graveyard shift is my time to log for work
The workplace is loud where the phone ring is enchanting
I need to stay calm and soft to answer complaints
In the end, I say “thank you for calling, have a nice day”
I am at work, while most of the humans are sleeping
I sleep when all of them are awake
Cursing words are normal, my ears are adjusted
I am used to it, to make it through my shift every single day
As soon as the sunrise, my day ends
Daylight warms my weary eyes and body bends
Down the hills and street, I rushed
Only to keep the promise, to come home for my family I must
Posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site last: 26 August 2009