Best Prohibiting Poems
Before I scarred the page
Raging what your letters cannot invent
Let me invite you to other books
I wrote before you owed me wage
For all maladjustment and discontent
Tettering on tentacles on hooks
Invite you to an open age
Of change and discourse transfigurment.
In a quiet moment read again
Shards of clay and artefacts beyond
A material functional disdain.
Look at the words like old bones
Bringing chromosomal tablets to rinse
The eyes of prejudices and conceit
You may wince
At what your arrogance did delete.
I have winced for years in broken jars
Unleashing rivulets of tears
For I gave you humanity as a gift, stars
Gave you dust and vessel for it
Time etched your abuse against this spirit
As you idolized barren observations
As if them alone could tell truths
Without the presence of experience.
Strange how you so prone to the material
Destroyed so much of its substance
In us. Yet it is inescapbale in the footprints of dust
The chromosomal bridges in our bodies
Linking us, reaffirming the gift again
Documents on my body like a stain
Irreducible by Mercator's illusions
There is no survival without the spiritual.
After protests, marches, firehoses and ropes
Still hanging from leftover branches of fear
I have earned the right to forgive you
The inherent gift make me your brother, here.
So now let us turn the map upside down
And draw again the latitudes unbending
In a straight line to your old thoughts,
Can we agree about the silence of the moon
Is a prohibiting noise in our head, a blind despair.
Categories:
prohibiting, philosophyme, old, me, old,
Form:
Free verse
As words escaped constricted passage
of time from eons of layered myths,
legends of demi-gods thus linked,
in glowing rendition, with whisk on hand
the Orator with staff, sang the Eel to slumber.
As words from parched lips of orchids, flowed
dispersing sweet juices germinating dense spheres
of time in which history was packed in roots,
armed with psalms in measured cadences,
the Orator soothed kings and chiefs.
As words of our ancestors oiled and pampered
by prophesies of aging oracles, songs of lovers
and monotonous chants of old men...slithered
into hiding while physical wars waged, succinctly
the Orator proclaimed the heroic pursuits of warriors.
As words, precision in recitation of kinship ties
craftily sewn by political machinations of unions
vital for survival of race waltzing in purity of blue
when blood flowed thru veins of aging rocks as
the Orator cemented pacts chanting tribal honorifics.
As words, imageries of sky bursting, moon phasing sunsets pertaining to legends of my village heroes,
sweet nectars that put rhythm in his art of tongues
inspired by fruits from my garden, mine own words
the Orator in action, was he infringing my copyright?
As words, our heritage orally passed down in poetry,
set imageries prohibiting meddling with sources,
set quotations where time absolved breaches of patent,
plagiarism, for traditions dictated that the word be
secured in a cocoon of oratory ferried down the ages
by the dynamics of cultural rites and rituals.
the Orator, blessed not only as the spiritual Vessel
...but now deemed as the Spoken Word incarnate.
Categories:
prohibiting, art,
Form:
Spoken Word
My eyes have not grown too weak or dim
to ignore what they've long been seeing
pretenders who wear a mask of disguise
like a skier who's not proficient at skiing
Everyone who labels him/herself a 'poet'
thinks he's composed brilliant words, versed
but lacks ability, and some of us know it,
and receives high praise; payback reimbursed
Is it because some seek insincere empty words
to gain a like response as a misbegotten debt?
Could it be they want undeserved admiration
for posting things a serious poet would regret?
And what of time consuming contest entries
that tower in skilled verse above most of the rest,
only to see everyone received a first place finish
when theirs is ignored but clearly one of the best.
IT'S A SLAP IN THE FACE!!!
Let's not overlook when the final results are in
those who give nods to each other as number one
It's obvious they don't always deserve the win.
Doesn't that spoil both the challenge and the fun?
Go ahead and point out that I shouldn't complain
because I stopped entering contests months ago
and seldom post on a site where some would reign.
but I discover things that make me say, "WHOA!"
Not so many fake names appear by a cheating judge
and I thank all of those who plowed that farrow
There are times when we all need a bit of a nudge
to make sure the path we walk is straight and narrow
Now I've learned that the advertisement displays
are prohibiting Connie Wong from enjoying her part
in reading and commenting in her loveliest of ways.
Connie is a talented poet, with a pure, loving heart.
My premium membership is up at the end of May
by now you've gathered that I'll not be renewing
but I'll still occasionally post on any given day.
Thank you for reading what has long been brewing
Comments are welcome if you would like to share
your thoughts, agreeable and even if they're not
We all have opinions; a community should care
about problems...unless you just don't give a squat
and if that's the case, I totally understand that, too
Categories:
prohibiting, writing,
Form:
Narrative
My mother says that I'll never see.
My father says that I'll never hear.
My brother I'll never get higher than a C.
My sister says I'll never tolerate beer.
Every day, my family puts me down.
They say that they're just being realistic.
But there is one thing they didn't put on that excuse mound.
That they're not perfect, they're never optimistic.
Studies show that the reason bullies
Put others down,
Isn't to please,
Not because they find pleasure in the pound;
Not because they like to tease,
But that it brings them up.
To the brim of their cup.
Mom, I see that you're an alcoholic,
Dad, I hear that you're in a financial rut.
Brother, I've gotten all A's and and one B. But not higher than you are on your drugs.
Sister, you were right. Unlike you, I won't drink, or portray myself as a ****.
And Uncle?
Thank you.
For helping my grades up to A's and B's.
For prohibiting drinking and drugging.
And...,
For opening my eyes and ears,
To see and hear,
That it's not me.
It's them.
Categories:
prohibiting, abuse, brother, family, father,
Form:
4/18/2018
Wide melancholic Owl Eyed glass goddess
Almost hypnotic, guilt trips semi-honest.
Her pain is contagious, vocally pulling heart strings
All guilty pleas are aimless, only her tragic tone sings.
Transparency: easily broken reflection of an identical image
-20 degrees: only the Sol Paisano warms her up in minutes.
Slow dancing with a demon, daddy of destruction
Mr. American Dream, ‘90s magazines family seduction.
Vermillion brick house built to hide the lies inside
Plants perennials in her perfect garden to keep the fantasy alive.
Distanced away from poster book suburbia’s neighbors…
They can’t hear the screams or cries.
The Family Man, dressed in clothes picked by his wife
A foreign beauty, Mrs. Owl Eyes.
The rings on their fingers: unsymbolic tattoos on skin
Prohibiting her to strip it off: a greater loyalty to Him.
Over 25 years without happiness, still celebrate April 28th
‘Xoxo, Love’ on a Hallmark card with roses for good faith.
She was at the hospital bed, by his side
While her cancer stricken mother slowly died.
Her fragile mamà weak from suffering the wrath of man
Raised to accept constant body slams and open hands, never took a stand.
Doña Guillermina, are you watching your nena from above? Following your quicksand path of life without love?
Do you yell down at her or attempt to send a sign
Just to realize, like you, she’s irreversibly blind?
Slowly she’ll join you because she’s running out of time…
Categories:
prohibiting, abuse, anniversary, home, identity,
Form:
Rhyme
4. The Articles of Confederation 1778
Three references: "The year of our Lord", first paragraph; "The year of our Lord", last paragraph; "Great Governor of the world", Article X111, 2nd. paragraph
5. The Constitution of The United States 1787
Two references: "Year of our Lord", Article V11, 2nd. paragraph; "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof", Amendment 1, Section 1
6. The Gettysburg Address 1865
Two references: "Created equal", 1st. Paragraph; "This nation under God", 3rd. Paragraph
05202017cjPS
Categories:
prohibiting, america, bible, christian, england,
Form:
Prose
In one spiritual being we do agree
Under varied names we called thee
From different images they were mold
How they came to be varies when told
Religion unites people of same beliefs
Some are powerful enough to sink ships
Some struggle to put their name across
Others use violence to justify their cause
From then on religion has great effects
Confusing people on issues it redirects
Constitutional laws are taken for granted
Religious edicts are usually adopted
Religious bigotry does not make sense
Makes us passive, sexist and subservient
Prohibiting contraceptives and abortion
Spousal divorce and same sex relations
Governments tend to take advantage
Faithful convictions justify wars instead
They allow them to beat, burn and kill wives
An eye for an eye for those who won’t abide
For them there are only male and female
No gays or lesbians can walk heaven’s trail
To have plenty of children is a gift of life
Taking birth control pills is like killing a child
And so backward the world moves
As increase in crime and poverty proves
As wars were launched in aid of religion
People kill to uphold their congregation
The Bible says that the day of reckoning
Is when various sects have started sprouting
If only we can learn to respect each of our beliefs
Discarding religious bigotry will save us from grief.
Categories:
prohibiting, religion, religious,
Form:
Rhyme
Bought at an antiques store for a song:
unframed print #225 of 750, signed by the artist
Number III of the family name, all painters,
(presumably) Those forbears hard to discard--
"Stay Awhile" its title, hospitably captioned by
a country boy, like my father, perhaps-- posing
beside his favorite horse on the back roads
of Race Pond, Georgia, his playground by
birthright, the Okefenokee Swamp.
Staying awhile, I place myself in the painting,
its cool morning mist in the hills beyond.
The white clapboard house, red-roofed, six
front windows, one dormer peeking out
from the eaves; four steps up to the porch
from the under-the-house black earth the house
was built on; its checkered slats at the base
prohibiting the crawl space where the doodlebugs
hide. Kitchen matches to be left untouched,
heeding the grownups chide. Only to the bugs
is it dire: "Doodlebug,doodlebug, hurry
on home--your house is on fire.
Two Christmassy trees hug at opposite ends
of the house, awaiting December decoration.
A grassy knoll rolls down to masses
of white and yellow sunflowers in a frenzied
welcome. Past the grayed barn where
tools are kept and the horses are tethered,
I place myself in the painting, flying Superman style,
spread eagle, arms out, facing downward
past clapboard house, barn. Then, into the hills
with their pale promise of perennial dawn where
there is no sorrow, no pain, no heavy heart
unshared, no loss we cannot bear.
Categories:
prohibiting, imagination,
Form:
Blank verse
I’m flatter by the system it’s not corporate it just ain’t witness
If every answer came out of the air or thin hair we could do what Moses did and part
The sea
Thoughts that come and thought that play around on time line
I never lost faith in the system the system never characterize a belief
All I ask is can I testify and take it to the streets
If I pledge the alliance does the star mean another
Hero has fallen
Thoughts that come and thought that play around on time line
If word fragments dawn and never waking how would I plead the fifth
Answer out of a page or history book let one judge
Thoughts that come and thought that play around on time line
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”
Categories:
prohibiting, art, love,
Form:
Verse
Lost in the green, leafy space,
Resting on his back out in the country,
The old hermit picks himself up and stands.
He begins the morning trek in the forest
Admiring the nature filled scenery—
The last retreat from the world.
Here peace abounds outside the world,
The man tries to create his own space,
Freed from the concerns of his country.
The trees form a barrier, a final stand
Prohibiting the city from his forest,
Preventing pollution of the scenery.
But bits of the outside defile the scenery.
The sanctuary is attacked by the world
Who slowly chokes the living space—
Unaware or uncaring of the leafy country—
With weapons of garbage, smog. He stands,
Staring at a coke can in his forest.
It stands out on the grassy forest
Floor. It ruins the life-filled scenery.
Almost acting as a message from the world,
Telling the hermit this isn’t his space.
A reminder that they own the country,
And out of a whim he is allowed to stand,
He is given the privilege to stand,
To admire, to enjoy the nature made forest
Whose beauty can be erased from the scenery,
Leaving only overturned land for the world,
Ready to defile the hermit's sacred space
And strip the trees off the country.
The old hermit cries in this country,
Among the trees, the animals, he stands.
Beneath the sky, above the earthy forest
He prays. Since childhood this scenery
Stood out. As a kid he’d leave the world,
Finding a solace in this private space.
But now the hermit’s leafy forest in the country,
The only natural space left on the concrete world,
Is threatened. Unless he stands up for the scenery.
Categories:
prohibiting, devotion, nature, nature, old,
Form:
Sestina
There's lots of play to underwear.
I'll try to be discreet.
It stretches to contain my boys
Who hang down t'wards my feet.
Elastic waistband hugs my hips,
Prohibiting their fall,
Much better than the outerwear
Worn by Neanderthal.
The Romans got the bright idea
From need to urinate.
They caught themselves so many times
In skirts of metal plates.
They learned that they could run a mile
As fast as they could go,
For loincloths kept their schlongs in place,
No flopping to and fro.
The greatest change from Caesar's day
To present day's sublime
Was the addition of a slit
For smoother exit time.
Of course some men like to be loose
And go with boxer shorts.
And if the fruit escapes the loom,
The girls will scream retort.
We can't forget those winter johns,
With trap door buttoned tight.
They're great for freezing temp'ratures.
Men wear them day and night.
But ladies have their negligees
Of silk and flimsy lace.
They do not wrinkle or bunch up
And beckon men to chase.
And now the reason for this post.
It's not a waste of ink.
One of my duties here at home
is at the kitchen sink.
My wife cooks all my fav'rite meals.
I clean up when we're done.
The other night someone snuck up.
The culprit was my son.
He and his wife were at the house
For supper, ham and beans.
He grabbed the wasteband of my shorts
And pulled them from my jeans.
He lifted them up t'wards my neck.
He wedged them in my crack.
He yanked and tugged, and tugged and yanked
And laughed behind my back.
He called out to my family
To show them what he'd done.
The tears were running down their cheeks.
It was a load of fun.
But from now on, I've made a change
And at the sink I sing.
I started wearing my wife's thongs.
He can't wedge those old things!
Categories:
prohibiting, dad, fun, hilarious,
Form:
Rhyme
Most folks I loved
died when I was in my thirties.
Not just people,
but our San Francisco bohemian mecca lifestyle,
our 365 days and nights celebration
turned into an epidemic of waiting
and watching
and mourning our losses,
wondering about possibilities of survival.
What could remain for us,
for me,
for this place?
What could become my purpose
our purpose
for any lonely future of diaspora survivors?
My closest friend,
a happily married matriarch
with two adolescent children,
died of breast cancer
when I was in my early forties.
Perhaps this was my final straw.
I have not reconstructed any friendships since.
This reminds me of my maternal grandfather,
who lived into his eighties
but as his quantity of years continued
his quality of celebrated convivial life shrank
through loss of two wives
and all their friends,
his generation of neighbors,
and then his hearing.
He told me
not long before he passed
he was not sure
if his loss of hearing was a curse
or a blessing,
prohibiting him from cultivating renewing friendships
only to be lost yet again.
My own hearing is not perfect
yet I seem unwilling to listen
for any more friends,
loved ones I could no better afford to lose
than those already gone.
Yet still I wonder
about therapeutic reasons for my survival.
As fertile celebrations fade to dusty memory,
my capacity to comprehend why I still breathe,
yet my generation of intentional families has long passed,
shrunk to incomprehensible mystery
as did my revered grandfather's hearing.
The best I can hear,
through this epidemic distance,
I rescued by adoption
then by love
four hurt children
no one else wanted,
and each continues teaching me how to love hims and her,
when I listen well,
in their distinctive needy ways and broken means.
Yet even here
with these final four
I night sweat in guilty worry
about how they could best thrive
when I can, at last,
no longer hear them,
nor they me.
Most folks I loved
died when I was young,
leaving me to wonder
severed prospects for survival.
Categories:
prohibiting, depression, destiny, grief, health,
Form:
Prose Poetry
There is a force upon this earth
a force of evil intent disguised
by empathy guiding the masses into a
feudal system of unequal apportions.
Already the wall is built, conjured with
a news media of imagery used haphazardly,
a wall, to keep in the intellect those who
cannot relate to simplicity that, which
is the secret of life’s beginning,
a wall that nurtures minds of organized chaos
whilst prohibiting precious sentiment
a ploy of the low life, those kept outside
of the wall except for the menial tasks
befitting his master!
© Harry J Horsman 2011
Categories:
prohibiting, confusion, philosophy, social,
Form:
Free verse
Loving Day
When Richard and Mildred fell in love,
their fate was decided by a judge.
For he was white and she was black,
their marriage broke Virginia's Integrity Act.
Forced to move to Washington DC,
they opposed the ruling in 1963.
In 1967, a supreme court ruled that Richard and Mildred Loving could live together,
as an interracial married couple in their own state of Virginia,
and declared that the law prohibiting this was unconstitutional.
June 12 is National 'Loving Day', when many Americans continue to celebrate the freedom to marry a person of another race.
Festivals, barbecues, parties are held,
to show that love knows no bound.
Categories:
prohibiting, 10th grade, black african
Form:
Rhyme
My voice, long muffled by evil hand;
With one intent –
Erase my voice,
My power,
My dream.
The hand of evil my voice does cover;
Prohibiting its discover;
And nausea rises up in me;
Longing to purge
the pain stuffed down for, oh, so many years,
And, oh, so many tears;
Like regurgitating bile within.
Though nausea rises up in me,
wanting to be purged,
My voice awaits to be set free;
And flight given to all that is within me.
What wondrous things ahead do lie,
with this voice to be released?
What will it say?
What will it dream?
My Savior, My Father, set me free
To give my voice a place;
Rise up within me without disgrace;
There is impact to be made!
Impact to set the captives free;
But first to start with me.
Categories:
prohibiting, emotions, freedom, inspirational, spiritual,
Form:
Prose Poetry