Best Principality Poems
Night after night. Day after day. Lord please watch over her I pray. It breaks my heart and I slowly fall apart. Seeing her sad makes me mad and feel like a bad sister to her even though I try my hardest to make her feel special, keep her crown and glow. The problems she'll have to face, the tears I'll have to erase, the time it will take to make sure she's alright, looking tight, and be there to fight her battles so she knows she got me through any and everything, through the good, the bad, and what the future may bring. My little sister, my other half, something that no one can replace even when we fall, we'll get back up and stand tall. The crazy conversations we share, the games of dare,the time I take to show her I care. She's not my child, she's my sister to be exact and to love and cherish is something we'll never lack. To see the world together, cold nights and stormy weather, always and forever. She's special and one of a kind, someone you'll have to take time to find out her personality, she may be smiling on the outside but stuck in reality, don't know the principality of life itself, so when it comes her way, she'll shrug her shoulders and have nothing to say because she lives day by day and was born this way. But she'll rise higher, she'll set this world on fire and grow one day to build an empire and shine brighter than the sun because she hasn't fought the war of life yet but she's already won.
We have brought this upon ourselves:
This virus, this egregore:
This cult of individuality.
Our right to die and bring others with us!
Truly an inversion of full potentiality:
Others live so we may make right.
The Sun shines on all, says the Teacher,
And vanity blows among its rays.
Like a mask covering a face, so the individual masks their community:
The community devoted to the rite of self-absorption and absolute dismissal of the Absolute
that is the ground beneath us all.
In the guise of a serpent, pleading to be left alone,
like the man behind the curtain, pulling the strings of our poem,
like a talking donkey, kicking us down the road,
this power and principality wants us to become I and all to be you
so it may survive another day, sacrificing us at the anti-altar
of death and decay.
No blood will flow – no life to be seen -
growing and growing, spreading its seed:
From west to east,
by the forces of materiality
and powers that be.
There’s a certain irony to it all:
We must as individuals overcome our idiotic being -
rather, be captured by the wonder of the other -
and come to the altar fully experiencing
the body and blood of the Other
fleshed before us, drawing our eyes
toward the gaze of an other.
WISDOM WAS FOUND
The day moves me into this ultimate search
Of the principality that Lords over life
And rules over Kings, nobles, aged and Princes
As my desire yearns for that which is profitable to direct.
Steadfastly aiming to avoid the natural consequences
Invited by my wrong actions and life's fitful fall,
I grope for the path of the higher realm,
Then realise that even the word of God
Is searched and tried in the furnace of fire 7 times.
I surrender my eyes to her rebuke
And embark further into the land of the greats
Even the discouraging and slothful wind
Couldn't strangle my lamp
Amidst intimidating and daring storms
Where men's soul stagger not
But swaggers into celestial hall of fame,
Owing to grace, persistence and doggedness.
If only I find her, discretion will preserve me
From the perversity of the diabolic whose path is crooked,
I thought of the rags of time,
How I had stalled in movements in life's race
Where I was born to take the lead;
My heart cried for an ornament of grace.
Who shall then buy me one?
Still I hear no answer but one from me
Then I sell all that's within me just for her bosom.
Even my manliness and ego holds me not.
Who can withhold himself from speaking?
For real you have instructed many,
You have strengthened weak hands,
Your words have upheld him who was stumbling
And have strengthened the feeble frigid knees.
By the blast of God you were let loosed
And all your enemies are subdued and fade away.
God understands her way - ask Him 'how'?
And He knows her place - find it now!
For He looks to the ends of the earth,
And sees under the whole heavens,
To establish a weight for the wind,
And apportion the waters by measure
When a law was made for the rain
And a path for the thunderbolt,
Then He saw Wisdom and declared it;
Prepared it, indeed, He searched it out.
To men He said, "the fear of the Lord is wisdom
And to depart from evil is understanding."
Written by: Vick Manuel (VickWizzy)
Copyright© 2013.
Reference: New King James version (NKJV), Thomas Nelson [1978], copyright 1982, Job 28v23,28; pg301.
Slow and steady wins the race,
Little by little,a life builds,
Moment by moment,time walks,
Age to age,I'll grow.
Learning a little everyday.
And not spending all my time in play.
And still inside me,this rule shall dwell;
For what is worth doing is worth doing well.
I'll do well,whatever I'm to do.
Slow and steady,I'll learn to know,
The supremacy of knowledge of long ago,
The principality of wisdom of time.
And in days to come,we shall see,
That life will be better for me.
Up in that old attic are an antic Raggedy Ann Doll and a rocking chair well used by my grandmother.
Grand she was and as great as she to be; she instilled value and principality.
Up in that attic is an old Raggedy Ann Doll and an antic rocking chair my great grandmother rock from.
Short in statue but tall in her stance, my great grandmother guidance departed wisdom.
In that attic is all kind of memories of how my great grandmother and I loved each other as family.
Friends bonded and she as a life-long mentor, in that old attic resides expressive art.
In a far corner that was east to the sun stood a portrait of my great grandmother.
Knowledgeable was the face with eyes of hazel brown painted at the age of seventy-five (75).
The reminiscence of youth is a mural seen as I sat down in the rocking chair thinking… (“Mama, let’s read The Bible together.”)
In this old attic is love unknown because of the time I had with my great grandmother before she was beacon home.
THE PERILS OF THE WORLD
When the truth is born, lies die.
The perils of world are caste.
To those who desire a greater aspect, the birth of concepts is conceive once again.
The liar will manifest in iniquity.
Counter-clockwise the table turns.
No warning has been given to anyone.
Then again, all know right from wrong.
Transgression will form even when the universe is rightfully shown.
A brick wall without reflection damned as hell.
A man with no principality is the resident.
Of course, he had choices; however, he did not chose well.
He wished upon and now he dwells.
The world is foolish to know that peace is given by the omnipotent.
Therefore, the perils of world are caste once more.
Gist, fools come unto God.
Yes, you were born to be free.
Yet, you have cause your tribulations and trepidations of today.
Repent your sins and refine your religious ways.
Therefore, the miseries of the world will fade away.
When the truth is born, lies die.
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PENNED ON OCTOBER 03, 2014 @ 12:49 A.M. EST!
I've ventured far from Indiana, the home soil of my birth,
To many exotic and exciting places all about this earth.
I've seen majestic Mount Fuji from the Kanto Plain of Tokyo.
But I'd rather marvel at Pikes Peak right here in Colorado!
I've traveled the rugged Khyber Pass in ancient Pakistan,
And saw sumo wrestling and cherry blossoms in Japan.
The alabaster city of Casablanca I've visited in Morocco,
But I'd rather tour old ghost towns right here in Colorado!
Magnificent Mount Vesuvius I've seen across Naples Bay.
In Holland I've seen windmills and tulips in vast display.
I've seen the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano.
'Tis more thrilling to see eagles soar the pristine skies of Colorado!
In Bermuda I've lolled upon the beaches of pink sand,
And have viewed the towering Alps of Switzerland.
Mayan ruins I've scampered over in Old Mexico,
But I'd rather explore the ruins of Mesa Verde in Colorado!
I've climbed the Tower of Pisa rewarded with a view divine,
And visited the quaint Principality of Liechtenstein.
Some folks strive for a lifetime seeking their El Dorado.
I've found mine right here in Colorful Colorado!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 Tracie's " Where in the World..." Contest - Dec 2011
In Philadelphia, in the year 1929,
an actress was born that had a career that was fine.
Grace Kelly, the daughter of Jack and Margaret Kelly,
came from quite a distinguished Irish Catholic family.
Her father was successful as a self-made millionaire;
her brother, an Olympian and town councilman there.
Grace’s uncle Walter Kelly was a vaudeville actor,
and Uncle George Kelly, a Pulitzer-winning writer.
Any film critic would tell you her acting was quite good.
She was one of the beautiful women in Hollywood.
Among her films were, “Fourteen Hours”, “High Noon”, and “Mogambo”,
and Alfred Hitchcock’s “Dial M for Murder” and “Rear Window”.
For “The Country Girl”, she won the Oscar for Best Actress.
In several other major films, Grace made great progress.
Included with “The Swan”, her other great pictures would be
“To Catch a Thief“, “Green Fire” and “The Bridges at Toko-Ri”
Her last film would be with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby.
This was the Cole Porter musical “High Society”.
Later that year, Grace would marry Monaco’s Prince Rainier.
She retired from the screen and became a princess that day.
Grace had three children, Albert, Caroline, and Stephanie.
With her husband, she ruled the tiny principality.
Grace’s life ended abruptly when she was fifty-two.
Her life was like a storybook fairy tale dream come true.
Sectarian movement all about faith to believe in the principality of
separation of church and state, is doctrine being formed?
Sentient to the principals of rightful mindedness, which advocates a
philosophical righteousness that transcends a new school of thought, what
is Social Theorem?
Born to this country as native
Educated via public schooling
Not a protest but a radical movement
This century mandates such.
We must devout.
Baptism of a country for a greater determination is a rite.
We apologize for not living right.
Atonement without compromise is not obsolete.
We must hoist against iniquity.
Life itself has been done.
Social justice is our anticyclones.
Nadirs forms.
Social injustice is intolerable.
What makes life heinousness?
A weapon formed to conquer.
Prosperity is not seen.
Modern today Anabaptists
Social Theorem thinkers
Holistic love in a world of trouble, can we début?
A single-mindedness purpose aimlessly, will tenacity construct?
We have ethically dedicated our lives, will this persevere?
We step-up to the cause of deification, how do we venerate?
Doctrine forms.
Our living becomes complete.
Minds are set to defeat wretchedness.
All-inclusive is the populous.
Individual lives are foremost.
Deny my rite and transgression will define yours.
Your ways within the world will not defeat God’s.
Ethereal, the vision brought forth will bless.
Naked eyes reveal a place in time,
an exhibit that binds and blind.
Sectarian movement all about faith to believe in the principality of
separation of church and state, sentient to the principals of rightful
mindedness, which advocates a philosophical righteousness that
transcends a new school of thought; is doctrine being formed and what is
Social Theorem?
___________________________________|
PENNED ON JULY 27, 2014!
FORM: ANAPHORA
THIS POVERTY OF MINE...
Improves upon the amount of time it takes you to conduct an opera that
tells about how to live this life.
Moralistic conceptions are fulfillments of healthy appetites.
An Aesop Fable he or she will write.
***
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel Rapunzel let your hair down.
I am the new Prince in town.
I killed the lad you loved today.
Rapunzel let your hair down and be my lady.
I come from far away to be your Prince.
I know your mother locked you away to become an old maid.
I am here to give you a life of matrimony, love and affection, children, a
family.
Rapunzel, let your hair down.
I will woo you with flowers to ingratiate.
We are meant to be together eternally.
Rapunzel, be my lady.
***
Rise above iniquity and address this perilous world
Domestic violence, conflict, and confusion are illuminated throughout the
universe.
Why is this constant struggle and strife?
Live right!
***
SHARMAR - THE KING
This is a man’s world.
This is a woman’s universe.
She is the child bearer.
I have become the villain.
I am an abuser.
She is in love.
I will use her not to face [my] troubles.
Conflict will confuse all.
I work hard in any endeavor.
The future is there to proclaim.
A woman’s place is behind her man.
See Coretta with King.
Strength she gave.
She empowered her man.
You saw her sadness and her gleam.
You see Betty with X.
Empowerment she was and the ultimate strength.
You saw her beam as a scholar.
Her walk fulfills that power.
Much light from pain diminishes weakness.
Might it be moralistic?
***
To destroy is to bring new life.
If one is without the other, why?
***
A woman’s hair is her glory.
What does that statement mean?
The manner of principality states age brings glory.
Therefore, the subject of these philosophies thrives.
A woman’s life is magnified 100xs by her life-story.
Move not my soul, if it is not closer to the Almighty God.
If my soul is no closer to the Lord Almighty, I shall not be moved.
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PENNED ON JULY 20, 2014!
Lighter is its economy, floats slower than a feather,
wasting resources, capable of becoming marketable leather,
pollutes the air for citizens to suffer bad weather,
expecting Yams from planting the seedlings of Onions,
results to failure regardless of any opinion.
A marriage, dangerous to the spouses’ sexualities
and then the tussle for who’s the next principality
without any regard to God and to humanity
only sustains the fire of a bitter union,
a truth accepted by, not just my opinion.
The masses pay with all they’ve got in one offering,
yet are used as unnecessary sacrifices to continue suffering
but the best they can do is just to keep baffling
on whose tribe or religion should take dominion,
smiling in affliction is foolishness, in my opinion.
Reduced to nothing for poverty to place its stickers
Sycophants emerging from most of all its thinkers
a once courageous Cat, now has lost its whiskers
becoming a laughing stock in its international communion
oh, this is a bitter fact and not just an opinion.
A country on barefoot, not even on slippers
encouraging ethnic robbers to be its Gate Keepers,
rights deprived of its meals, even mere supper,
mercenaries romanced as government companions.
Nigeria is already doomed, that’s my strong opinion.
Published: 6/24/2020
For the Opinion Poetry Contest
sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Position: 5th place [6/29/2020]
The height of science and the width of commerce
in my dwelling place they merge
with the ambassadors of understanding
giving me their pledge.
Capturing the seat of the wise
and sitting over it,
covering its edge
as I wear the garment of knowledge.
So what's next?
My hands are filled with gold
My pockets, heavy with silver
these make me the Diamond myths
and the greatest team player
to financial strength.
I've been owned and followed
and my shadow, replaced with good health
as I'm possessed and romanced
by wealth.
So what's next?
Occurrences and happenings, I'm the doer
Planting the seed of what's to happen next,
like a sower
with all authorities and rulership
placed lower
is the extent of my unbelievable power.
so what's next?
Acquiring all possible knowledge
accumulating unbelievable possessions
and becoming the greatest principality
the world has ever known
without positively touching a life
and making a soul smile
is going through a clothing store naked
and coming out naked
with everything in the world just strings.
So what's next?
DEATH!
Leaving behind all the attachments
as they drop in command of hades
vanity upon vanity;
all is vanity.
The morbid law of the rigid
It is a principle for the principal
A belief that holds the total
The standard not for the normal
Above reproach, beyond nominal
A law for the feeble and mortal
A rule of tyranny and inflexibility
Found in a principality
Observed as a quality
Anything besides is nullity
Transgress, face penalty
Regress, become nonentity
Redress, labeled mediocrity
Resolute, named superiority
Meek, called inferiority
Compromise, cast as frailty
Opinions equated to profanity
Fairness shunned as evil and vanity
Rationale is called disdain
Don’t drift, remain
Don’t shift, sustain
Don’t twist, maintain
Don’t lift, retain
That’s the law for the deprived
The morbid law of the rigid
wouldn't you rather win, would you rather lose
succeed than fail
rise above than get left behind
wouldn't you rather love
and not be hurt
laugh and not not be weary
cry but tears of joy
be happy without sadness
creeping around the corner
wouldn't you rather be rich than poverty
stricken
quiet than to voice most opinions
wouldn't you rather be positive than let negative
overwhelm you
it all a choice
individual principality
the way life is
without questions, without definite
nothing is concrete until you add
the main ingredients.
ChloeJames 2014
Glitter glue laced ticker tape....
Of colourful confetti covering such sight
More and more, their eyes dipped in tars
Infectious quills, beneath these softened feathers
Penetrating, their own fatalities cryptograms....
As they aimlessly blend a colludeds pretentious purpose?
Bending this times fading, unto its very own knees!
Within these, their poisoned spoiled schemes
Buried beneath such smiling lotus faces; cracked
These mannequins dressed in their own dark blank black....
Messengers without a promises clue; not knowing whom they are?
Perditions offspring they seem; these, children of the sintarians star
Venin poised at the tip of their tongues!
Hidden, behind sacrilegious' ruby red lips
Drippings, of a partings depository decay?
Trying to spread their gangrenous green blood
Throughout my venous' veraciously pulsing veins
Like liquid streams of futility....
These pantomimes' grand charades
Parabolics, with hollowed fangs!
Puppets, upon their powdered strings
Amid the soul asylums sanctuary
Of the indeed, vanguards inane....
Colourless confetti, permeating my sight
This contributor, of the jet black pain
Spawned, by the principality of invectives, inverted cross
The bleakest paramour amid the paralax of their unknowings
Souls, thrice times dead....
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Perditions Parade