Best Prohibitions Poems
Flirting flappers
Whipper snappers
Prohibitions
Big restrictions
Legs are showing
pearls are Swirling
Charleston’s harking
Lovers sparking
Dancing Lindy
With Miss Mindy
Jitterbugging
Afterwards hugging
Raccoon coats
Rowing boats
Bathtub gin
Fun never ends.
Yearning- the bosom gemstone’s ever-grasp
Without, on wavy roads of sea-asp’s Mesmerizing sky-eyed without fear Billowing locks of Freyja's tears, rapture’s reverie my battle cry An overflowing Bragi's cup does supply
Though the thing will seek its reckoning I will not go, though Valhalla is beckoning for above all, I savor your fiery fervor
You have made me, your love-warrior Note- Love poetry was against the law. The prohibitions against love poetry help to explain why courtships were little practiced in the Viking period. While the goddess Freyja was the patroness of mansongar, and delighted in love poetry, mortal women had to be more cautious. Love poems were viewed in law as a distinct slur upon a woman's reputation, suggesting that the poet had had a more intimate knowledge of his beloved than was considered seemly (Foote and Wilson, p. 112). The reputation of a woman reflected upon the honor of her family: if her honor was tarnished, so was that of her father, brothers, uncles, cousins and sons. Any dalliance with a woman's reputation was likely to bring down the wrath of her entire lineage upon the hapless suitor!
I hear things that make my dear heart lose its composure.
The news of Earthquakes,cyclones,and tornadoes have brought my rigid heart to a fracture.
Our lands have felt them,even the air,the waters and those high places that have the mountains as their enclosure.
My tears cant help but roll down my eyelids commisure.
Who will answer the question that our hearts conjure?
"Who is at fault?"
The weather?,mother earth or grandmother nature??.
Rather,i think they should fault us for our torture.
Which we effortlessly and so quickly have dealt to them in immeasurable measure.
I think we would have stopped this if we had thought of even our own future.
But presently in our minds,it's more exploitatory mechanisms that we conjure.
So we can defile their resources intricately till they become impure.
Imagine the wastes and damages we have made her procure.
Just for the treasures we greedily want to procure.
The pleasures we temporarily want to enjoy.
And for the landscapes and structures we want to see in our pictures.
We forget all the fractures she painlessly endure.
Despite our hand-made breakages and fissures.
how many prohibitions and restrictions did she actually adjure?.
Yet we have engineered diverse machines and given them fear-imputing features.
And it's her crust that our machines puncture,when we ride them recklessly like men on stupor.
We have access to her materials for sure,and from them get our own beautiful infrastructures.
But we fill her waters with things that her impure,and our day to day activities disfigure her once beautiful structure.
Though we see the havocs that we have caused to rupture.
we still take our stand and claim our actions are just for our comfort and culture.
Oh!! These tears are for the environment,mother earth and grand mother nature.
For they are caught up with destroyers in this dangerous venture.
If only our actions from now are unto them like a cure.
Then there will be hope to take a picture one day,and what you will see in them are wonderful eden-features.
OLUWATOBILOBA ©
Festival of the Fools!
Festival of the Fools
in which is celebrated in different culture as different names
originally celebrated by most cultures on January first
which was first coined in Great Britain in 1861
celebrates inclusive art of busking
and street performance
with foolish fun for all ages
devoted to community engagement
and making arts accessible to everyone
three full days of acrobats, circus arts
quirky comedy, and diverse music
In the Middle Ages
a mock pope, or a Lord of Misrule, was elected ecclesiastical rituals were parodied
low and high officials swapped places
could have originated from the Kalends and probably Christian adaptation of Saturnalia
In the thirteenth century they became burlesque of Christian morality and worship
despite repeated prohibitions and penalties
imposed by Council of Basel in 1431
these feasts didn't disappear until the sixteenth century
often dressed in street clothing, including women's clothing, masks, garlands of greenery, or even in fools’ costumes
priests and clerks wearing masks
and dressed as woman, panders, or minstrels
Exalting fools and foolishness
Praising and toasting every fool
Mocking fools and foolishness
Feasting and drinking like royalty!
Nineteen months has passed since I did a step..
A step to attain one of my dreams..
Rumored as the land of "Just dime or penny"..
Talked as a land of so much strict Rules..
Rials their stable currency.
Oil their main product..
Towering modern ediffices abounds..
Architecturally design interiors..
Rich truly, as they said..
Islam the strictly followed religion..
Arabic their national language..
Riyadh, Jeddah, Maddina some of it's mainland..
Black and white the common colors of apparels..
Yet, roaming around malls..
Variant vibrant colors visibly in stalls..
Simplicity, that's what I appreciated here..
It was a barren solid land..
Almost all nationalities are here..
Finding a life; Making livelihood..
Maximizing what this country can offer...
Yet it's rules, the prohibitions..
Depresses the other life of man...
It takes away some of the joys of living..
Thus others, breaks the rules...
" incest meetings" are such as searching gold..
precious as undiscovered diamonds..
friends makes the stay here worthwhile..
Adopting and preserving the heart of humanity..
by: olive_eloi
02/10/2013
9:44pm
------------
extracted
smiling; hello
It's been a long day, tired off all the repetitive noise:
Move slow
Times fast
Why won't
You go
I'm important
Are you important
To me
Extracted
Hello; Smiling
Digging into a word; something about electricity, a connection; might discourage it. The sun stayed on long and with all the conversations, cars zooming, creatures moving, I couldn't find silence in my head. Staring at an ordinary sidewalk that grew me exhausted from how normal it was. I paced a listless pace, in total daze of the abundance of copied sound:
move fast
times slow
why won't
you hold
am i important
you're sure important
to me
Modest from the recognition, trying to figure out the appropriate response to
smiling; hello
Alternatives:
If I smile and nod, he could stop and pause, probably turn around, want to know my name.
If I smile and nod, he could move along, probably just courtesies, never know his name.
Tired of all the repetitive noise:
Move slow
Times fast
Why won't
You last
Am I important
Are you Important
To me
Questioning the result that be encountered from the:
Hello; Smiling
How should I perceive so actions could follow through;
Do I want her presence, I don't know why I looked, a smile she had it booked. It took me a moment, that I just had to stare, the hopes I'm not sure I'll declare.
Is it just my intuition, is there something that I'm missing. My walking's starting to ease in speed, I'll lose what could be found, what might I need.
Staring at an ordinary sidewalk that grew me exhausted from how normal it was. I paced a listless pace, in total daze of the abundance of copied sound:
move fast
times slow
why won't
you bold
i'm important
you're sure important
to me
Something about recognition, modesty and prohibitions; ruin a perception twice. Two people could of broke the ice. Maybe to afraid to fumble, but even misheard words spell mumble; A salutation or full discussion, two hands could've been touching
Shake
hold
Play
touch
Feel
same
way
Each other
Grab
cup
Pull
caress
massage
All
day
Like lovers
Hello
Smiling
Red fire glowing
in the sweet smelling night
giving off captive senses
and dismantled memories.
Timeless pictures
flickering in front of my eyes.
Pagan pipes and cymbals
rouse my ears.
On the drunk mountain of Parnon
the daughters of Achelous and Evrotas
set up a wild erotic dance.
Naked, scented and fired with desire
they call Hermes in their company.
Whatever I think
whatever I yearn
is under the threat of a punishment.
There are too many “prohibitions”
and I have a rebel in my mind.
1. Faith
I know people who view life through 'lenses (rose-colored),'
and others who 'trumpet' God's death with "Heil Hitler!"
The first group attempts to cloak naked ambitions
in translucent fabric and dreams their sin vanquished
(because they purport to 'forgive sin' in others).
What magic heals victims we find in bar ditches? (1)
Should these thank the Gods folks don't take what thieves left them
as we pass them by? Have dismissive acts virtue?
The second vouchsafe to say strength's owned by statue,
and gain (when gain's found) proves the province of mayhem,
claim God of this world hates the poor man, loves riches,
not Eve (Man's true mother), but choice should brand 'brothers!'
If my 'gifts' loom greater, are blood's rights relinquished?
Can children choose genes? Don't you see prohibitions?
Are you your true creation - more God's pup or **star*?
I think of "dead stars as my parent" (feels gentler!)
2. Humility
Is 'TRUTH' Christ's 'WORDS ARE RIGHT,' that our best path's a humbler
path chosen by faith, that Self-Knowledge defines 'SIN?'
To claim that you 'know' that God loves you is sinful!
Our faith can't be knowledge, for we can't grok God, friend!
Though Truth can get shared, Truth's more water (we borrow)
and that's a whole TRUTH that most egos find lacking!
Humility dictates we grok that we can't know
for 'Faith' can fool Saints! A 'True Faith' blooms by questions!
Faith shared brings real blessings as others' suggestions
illuminate corners that might host inferno
if tender collects there! I pray for Light's backing.
All shadows are sins that portend a fresh sorrow!
Faith groks that all griefs are, in Truth, more a godsend
(suggestions for growth!) Pleas, explain how that's awful!
It's GOD'S TRUTH that Christ brings us though each man's a stumbler
(TRUTH -Stumbling's not sin!) Time's New Testament's Darwin!
(finis)
A FADING PROFESSOR ON A
FEBRUARY FRIDAY
On a cold, gray day
that made cold and gray
synonymous with abyss,
she came to his office with
two new drawings that advanced
her thesis about ecological design
in a coastal Canadian city
She had done something to her hair,
something else to her nails, nothing
at all to her eyes that were almond,
Sephardic, Israeli, in a way that gave
new meaning to deep brown and soft
It was four twenty-five on a
February Friday, eight degrees outside,
the lake-effect snow horizontal in the
wind, the big building next door an uncertain
arrangement of blurry white lights in the dark
afternoon; and the requirements of winter,
the so-called spring semester, were wearing
him down like the arcane rituals and the
strict prohibitions of an ancient religion that
could no longer offer any comfort or solace
in our savagely modern and turbulent times!
With a professorial manner that just barely
camouflaged a nearly naked ambivalence he
invited her to sit and to roll out her drawings,
discuss her ideas, while he silently and subtly
escaped to the weekend for rest and repair of
an overextended and overworked soul
Responding with energy and apparent aplomb
to each point she made, he was actually
gone – like the sharp after-image of a
sudden bright light, he was seemingly real
but gone just the same, off to a place where
the snowfall had stopped and the susurrating
cadence of the single frame drum and
a singing prayer bowl summoned him for
dinner, for deep meditation, and an
agnostic’s prayer addressing gratitude
and grace beneath a stained glass sky
fading slowly into night
After so many years in the monastery, Monty
wants to use his name which
is never allowed due to the
pledge of anonymity.
He owns nothing there of course,
no one does. It all belongs to God.
When Monty sleeps he enjoys
the only ownership. Even selfish
singularity in meditation is denied him
since the monastery assigns him a mantra.
Monty does treasure his dreams,
dreaming as he curls on the narrow bed
in the concrete cell the abbot assigns him.
He enjoys the memories that flood
through the irrational narratives of sleep.
He knows, in spite of the prohibitions,
that these are his.
o time... precious time
precious moments... live each breath
many miles of smiles
sadly... if only
life with no prohibitions
nature once decreed
life at the present
human inflicted deadlines
why... life will live on
Through my inspection of the current events,
I make the assumption the world’s gone awry.
If we had the gumption to all live in tents,
Ration our possessions, the world wouldn’t die.
Through my assertions, I urge you to share.
Prohibitions are needed for many the crowd.
Love forms through accretion of natural care.
My intentions are pure that I speak out loud.
My notion this evening, is to make you all ponder.
No instigation, am I trying, nor willing to do.
My infatuation with trying, is so you don’t wander
From the one nation under God, bestowed unto you.
The mountain is covered in water,
The valley is filled with rain,
Because angel tears were sent to wash away yesterweek's pain,
And the motor wants to go faster,
But the driver must refrain,
To reach his destination at all,
For safety he must abstain
And children play in the creeks,
Despite the stern prohibitions,
Because signs mean nothing to those who can barely read,
They're as green as the grass will be
He wrote with his pen
With solid lines on white paper
And penned him out again
He could walk through it like vapor
Instead of walking away
But that would take his freedom
Away ... he could not last the pen
And thinking about it
He may not last anything again
All his life was concentrated here
All his dreams to this moment came
Days of labor
Hard work and silent providing
Getting no applause or favor
Marginal except when giving
All his beliefs
In family, dominion, and love
The tortured wind making a song in him
When the terrain was demanding
All his faith ... and the steady hand above
Slack on the kite string
The new mores harrowing him
And suddenly ... one argument for his rights
Moves the system and the pen:
The sword at Eden gates flame again
All he did was trusted love
All he did was taste the fruit
Urge nurtured by inseparable love
Preferring death
Than not to cling again
And saying at last before it came
Was there a moment of respect
A little bit of value for all the sense in him
And there would be another alternative
Another day to divert the flame
It's too late now
Wealth vesseled in his children vain
Love nestled in his woman drained
Pride excoriated, honor stained
The line upon the page remain
Prohibitions: exhortations
Of his limitations ... and the denunciations
Supporting the lies against his name -
Love is a moth and the world a flame.
Something really grossed me out
While walking down the street;
A stranger cleared his throat and spat,
Just inches from my feet.
I think it is illegal
To just cough up phlegm and spit.
In society, it’s something
We should really not permit.
There once were signs in subway cars
Announcing prohibitions:
Loud radios and spitting
Both had fines for inhibitions.
Some people, though, do what they want
No matter who’s around.
I guess I should be grateful
That that spit stayed on the ground.