Best Propound Poems
Still Seconds ( A Valentine )
Chocolate box romance
Of ribbons and flowers
Wishes in poetical phrases
Letter and verse
Imprinted rhythmical beats of hearts
In soft sweet confessions
Underline Cupids children
But my love prowls
On feline soft paws
Its breath an engine
Its rhythm slow steaming
Waiting
Saint Valentines greatest lovers
In painted masks
Have struggled expressions
Too beautiful to defy descriptions
Of eternal Kings and Queens
In heavens love
Of Cherubim and Seraphim
But my love rages
In perfumed heat
Its still seconds it eats
Its constant deciphering of
Wanting
A full deluge could wax Shakespearean
With torrential emotion
Propound and profess
Passions unceasing delirium
And so esteemed the grammatical invocations
Of loves powered obsessions
Would write unceasingly on
But my love irreversible
Stands helpless acceptance
Its distracted ecstatic if
Its intoxicated blood
Needing
And so I break upon a howling wind
Aching pours from my throat
A screaming name
Desperate tempest to a brooding sea
I stand helpless
In still seconds
Unable to contend
With love
Figures of immense reputation and popularity they were
Attracting public attention and admiration in the pursuit of their great works
Leaving behind them a legacy of some kind
But going with them their unique characters.
Wasn’t the explosion of Christianity the work of Jesus of Nazareth?
And the burst of Islam not the work of Muhammed of Mecca?
Neither will the admirable leadership of Julius Caesar;
Nor the conquests of the unlearned Charlemane,
And the military successes of Alexander the great,
Be forgotten in History.
If the British can forget Napoleon’s continental system
Jews then, would forget Hitler’s concentration camps
And history would entirely cease recalling his mentor Mussolini.
What if Carl Marx did not propound radical socialism?
Lenin then, would not have smashed the bourgeoisie and ruled Russia
Neither would the principles of Marxism-Leninism be sustained by Stalin
Nor would Churchill seal the border between the East and the West with an iron curtain.
A grave mistake it would be to forget Martin Luther King Jr.
For if he be forgotten, Mahatma Ghandi then would also be
And the entire movement of nonviolence
Will stop covering many pages of modern history books.
Had it not for Kwame Nkruma and Hastings Banda to cut the rope of colonialism
The ambitious Cecil Rhodes then,
Would have drained the whole continent of all its economic wealth.
The ascendancy of Nelson Mandela from the horizon of apartheid
Was not the beginning of Maximillien Robespierre’s reign of terror;
Characterized by avenges and reprisals
But the emergence of Abraham Lincoln’s true democracy.
What if Caesar were not butchered?
William Shakespeare then, would not have been the greatest playwright
Causing Charles Dickens and Chinua Achebe not to appear.
For the existence of a Jewish state, David Ben Gulion fought
But for the reemergence of a Palestinian state, Yasser Arafat strives.
A noble story one that ought to be our good host laughed and swore the games begun. Come match the knights tale if you can sir monk. To bellow arms and blood and bones he swore. A noble one I'll pay off the knights tale lets do this right. You tell yours by and by either I'll speak or go on my own way. Everyone listen but first i will propound that i am drunk i know it by my sound. For I'll tell a golden legend and a lie. Forget your ignorant drunken bawdiness it is a sin and great foolishness. Tell us of other things you'll find to lack i see you are angry with my tale but why. cuz you are a fool your head is overpowered by the wine. If you are not enjoying yourselves then cut off my head but as i drink my wine and ale. Whoever won't accept what i decide will pay for everything we spend along the ride. So hold up your hand if you accept my speech reflect a little and don't hold me to blame if you choose wrong don't lay it on my head. And both of them had bawdy tales to tell theirs no sense making earnest out of game.
I suppose struggling bards (such as I) are wont to muse
Upon profound or inane topics to propound our views.
So, it occured to me how baffling the English language could be,
To new arrivals to our shores from international potpourri.
Will he ever master the usage of to, two, tutu and too?
Should he order "coal" or "cole" slaw at his favorite rendevous?
Plane could be a woodworking tool or is it that thing in the sky,
Or something plain and simple or a plain of undulating rye?
He tries to sort out the subtleties of yawl and ya'll,
And the nuances of aunt, ant and if that ain't all,
How can he figure out the use of maul, moll and mall?
Is it a golf ball or a formal ball? 'Tis enough to make him bawl!
He must ever ponder if a yard is three feat or three feet,
And is addled about the use of peek, peak and pique.
Is a pupil a kid in class or something to do with the eye?
Buy, bi, by and bye, now what does each of those imply?
His fear is that he'll never get it write or is it rite or right?
He preys (or prays?) for deliverance from his fearful plight.
Momma mia! He's bewildered and just wants to return home,
To that Eternal City in Italy called Rome (or is it Roam?)!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Unseen
Between shadows
Opinion is unheard
Feeling emptiness on the soul
Nobody care is she alive or dead
Sadness reflects in her lost eyes
Blank stare in the dark night
Weeping past days
Alone
Shadows
Cloak as a veil
Perceiving ostracism
As exclusion of daily life
Confining forever in four wall room
Inner fiendish voices propound
Secluding in a world
Fantasy rules
Reason
4-25-2016
Last name here, First step there, only one allay...
Vestige sagacity, flaxen ochroid genes skitter down,
Diddle drizzled dints to acquiesce an ugly axis,
Whet of whiled grime, tips on me thus to dawn,
In hands of lonely children, bid these lips bye-bye...
Bequest oaths, for ode by love is a home plight,
Coalescing pivots crux fine fortunes through,
Docent tasks fathom nature's dew of grief,
Tons of totes vex abstruse wills to loot,
But virtuous lenity glib adept heartfelt reefs,
Gait jiffy haps with tribes so grim time tears,
God's flanges tarry finales who lope o'er losers,
But foremost, guerdon sojourn souls aiding others...
Accouter the outfitter by concords of trust,
Master a gentlemen and woman of good taste,
Upon Sunrise and Sunset, leave wise and do weep,
The bequeath of ensuing generations propound...
Upon birth and grave, life and death, -but more life...
How can we take pride in a country
that is sliding into dissolution and chaos?
We praise ourselves for ending slavery.
yet racial prejudice is still much with us.
We pay slave wages and refuse to change
the minimum wage to a living wage.
We call all people equal under the law,
yet privilege and money or the lack of it
make legal decisions unequal every day.
We have liars, cheats and criminals in
our supposedly democratic government,
chosen primarily by a voting system
that is funded by moneyed corporations
with a vested interest and the wealthy.
Goal: to remain in power.
We declare all are entitled to liberty,
justice and the pursuit of happiness,
yet how can a people be happy without
security that they will not go bankrupt
because of hospital and medical bills?
How can we be proud of a country
where the supreme justices of the land
arbitrarily take away our rights
to make decisions about our sex lives
and personal decisions about our bodies?
Who choose to exercise the power of a
ruling class against the will of the people?
In a country founded on freedom of religion
we are more and more governed by those
who propound a certain religious mindset.
We are not yet living under a dictator,
and have freedoms not dreamed of in
dictatorships, but for how much longer?
Our freedoms are being taken away,
unilaterally, without recourse.
Our democracy is in mortal danger,
not from enemies abroad, but from within.
A vast explosion in the sky
of supernova’s great goodbye
is how immense celestials die.
Yet these demises have their worth
to aid perchance in future birth
of star to house a planet earth.
Our human species’ vessel home
beneath the heavens’ vaulted dome
is floating in a sea of foam
where we’ve been sailing safe and sound
with bubbles multiversed around,
so novel theories propound.
Thus in our ‘brane’ with solar world
that’s strung with particles unfurled
we dwell within dimensions curled,
as per this unifying stance
about the unbeknownst expanse
which hosts our mortal song and dance.
The firmament we peer into
plays hide and seek with what’s in view
to shift with varied light anew.
When sets the sun at day’s decline
and darkness shapes its redesign,
somewhere a star will show its shine.
Longfellow’s classic epic said
that endless meadows overhead
would ‘one by one’ in silence spread
their star ‘forget-me-not’ arrays
of blossoms for the angels’ gaze,
his lovely lines to paraphrase.
‘How countlessly they congregate’,
wrote Robert Frost of stellar spate
that waits beyond the darkling gate!
Though death all life may underlie,
in cosmic twinkling of an eye
somewhere a star is born on high…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * * *
Some sources of inspiration were the following…
“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,/ Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline: ‘A Tale of Acadie’
First line of ‘Stars’, by Robert Frost, from Robert Frost’s ‘A Boy’s Will’, 1915…
M-theory ~ Wikipedia…
Pulsating honor doth corroded hearts impound
A blustery breeze echoes cries from each, preceding battleground
A recurring, eager parade of reporters, gawkers freely roam distant mound
Below, fatigued, tidy mass of steeled infantry; to death's throes bound
Neighing horses conditioned to mayhem the pageantry doth confound
On opposite ridges, mounted turrets prepared hell's fury to expound
On signal, a synchronized, concussive chorus doth its dark melody propound
Scraps of metal shards initiate; commencing another, toilsome round
After lengthy barrage, wits collected a more lethal volley to stound
Familiar, urgent order to charge christens hallowed ground
With youthful ardor a wide-eyed bugler doth the bridled expanse unbound
Shrieking rancor from recoiling rifles; a familiar anthem doth resound
Recurring cacophonous medley, weathered nerves drowned
Once more, a mass of flesh surges into the abyss with mortal hopes crowned
Anon, shattered limbs; gory wounds misery's cache compound
It seems there are self-appointed disciples who've nothing else to do,
Except propound their inane dogmas to assail folks like me and you!
This nation is being torn asunder by a few people acting on their own.
Why can't they find productive things to do and leave the rest of us alone!
I find it offensive that Christ and Christianity are held up to ridicule.
With absolutely no apologies to anyone, in my house He alone will rule!
Now if others should happen to have a different point of view,
That is fine with me, but leave me alone to worship in my pew!
There are those who want any reference to God to be ignored.
Remember, "Blessed is the nation Whose God is the Lord!"
Prayer is banned in the public realm and is prohibited in public school.
Separation of church and state is fine, but shouldn't common sense rule?
Our nation's flag, that shining beacon of hope for this troubled world,
By some of our own people is scorned and at it profanities are hurled.
Seems that some folks use The First Amendment as a fuzzy cloak,
To justify most everything with a screen of mirrors and smoke!
Some folks are easily upset if what you do or say ain't politically correct.
I hereby aver my Declaration of Independence and such twaddle I reject!
I'll say and do as I please and if it offends, sorry, I'll continue on my own!
"Progressives" may do as they please, fine, but leave us other folks alone!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Though my mind has clearly gone,
my hollowed vessel sails on and on.
Tattered memories clatter through,
dried leaves in search of their limbs,
desperate to seek the plumpness of youth.
Their only hope; give up the fight,
to death magnetic earth,
once more, rebirth.
Yet far and wide they stride,
the empty vastness of my tumbleweed state.
My world weary gait,
my lucid lament,
only serve to further propound confusion.
Scents send senses searching relentless.
Optical deficits, no acoustic solution.
Solution beyond reach,
beyond my touch,
and I want it so much.
For King and for country,
for valour not treason.
I search for The Season,
the peace I believe in.
For peace eternal,
for posthumous pardon.
Cocoa from this bean derived
Essential to this product
Scarce thought for the deprived
With creamy blend of milk and butter
Our tendency to indulge
A fair wage and exchange- it's juster
Alas sugar laden, it feeds the bulge
And addiction
In assorted shapes and packs
To enhance temptation
While the bean pickers live in shacks
Obesity the scourge of the West
Small amounts only is the lament
Hard work and long hours spent
Sparse time for rest
An essential gift for the yearly fest
And post elective fast
Fair trade for all we must propound
You see its full of beans
So make it last
tell them i’m gone
tell them i’m gone to change my name
give them any name
i’ll not give them another name
tell them i’ll not take my father’s name
no more father than i’m my own
i do not create
i’m not responsible
i have no ownership over my makings
so i’ll take this name i’ve got
for the moment
tell them
and i’ll go short-changed to be cast again
yes
tell them i’ll go and change my name
not have my name changed
and come out again unchanged
tell them again i’ll not take my father’s name
yes
tell them that
tell them i’ve gone to change my name
my very own name
and yet keep the name i’ve gone to change
yes
tell them that
tell them when i’m there
i’ll see why josephus broke the essenic law
why marx the mighty essene changed his name
and note
why the ribonucleic-acid embargo in between
why the dna father-son short supply
i am a cell lodged in the molecular-memory-millennia
i’m the agent of growth and decay
i see the cells strung out in an embryonic fantasy riddle
while intercourse was still permissible
i proclaim
i propound
in my genes the spermatic stimulation
the evolutionary process
the woman the link-breaker
keeps it all going longer and longer
until i stand and transmit
until we reach out into the micro-wave length
listen in on ourselves
in the multi-macro-cosmic network :
the tv stations
the electronic transmitters
the nether-world subliminal messages
all shall interlock
and we remain tuned in
sitting bolt-tight-up
in our nudging squeezing cells
no more afearing nor doing
no more no less that is
than sucking a python diet
we’ll do without rousing sex-play
courtship nor foreplay
or even sans monetary excuse
we’ll do it for ourcells
in ourcells
by ourcells
then i’ll not have to go away
nor will you have to tell them
‘he thinks he’s gone to change his name
his only name
and quite probably not take his father’s name’
rendes-moi mon nom unique
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan, 1965 - London from the collection : tell them i’m gone. Paris : 1983. (rev. 2012)
DEATH IS A NOTHING WORD
for Death was once called
D'aarth in ancient of ancient
times, then translated to Death
to control and cause fear.
Death means nothing to the dead
but it sure means a lot to the living
because death is a nothing word
for the dead is glorying in their living
and the living is left to mourn the dead
Death means nothing to the dead
for the dead is now living a life free
free from worry, free from pain and body
the living finds the missing of those love ones
who have passed on from this earthly road
sometimes too terrible to bear
but the dream of the dead goes on instead
The door of death is there for all already awaiting
it's only those that are scared of that word of death
that makes it hard to go thro' that open door
for that open door leads to a world of dreams
the dream of walking in a dream
till the passing on is fully realized
that more the living is done on the other side
tho' without a body, you the "Spirit" is now free
So it is now very important to realize in truth
that You are You the Spirit in a body encased
and not the other way round that you are told to embrace
and so go on to knowing of your Immortality
and that makes the door of death easy to go through
to make the new living so much easier to propound.
Brush strokes of emotions on my life's canvas
Always the brown of dirt, seldom the green of grass
Dark and lonely, sans any glee
Even on the brightest day, it is darkness I see
I try to search within me, for happiness to feel
To lift my heavy head, and, for life, find zeal
Try to smile and help another human stand
But it's tough to maintain balance in my mind's quicksand
The colors look drab even with festive lights
My eyes simply refuse to see happy sights
I yearn to see beyond this monochromatic scene
And feel the warmth, hitherto unseen
Friends propound theories for finding happiness
Quick fixes abound and shortcuts to success
Nothing works and I am losing my grip on life's thread
I wonder how long I can last with a heart depressed