Best Protections Poems
Assaulting me! The darkness comes to be
in devil’s guise. Phantom haunts my mind;
in sleep paralysis I cannot flee -
insanity bleeding through ruined rind.
I’m humbled now and at your merciless
whims and words afflicting by your whipping
cruelty I’d endured and what of this -
stranglehold of fear that is so gripping.
The trauma it inflicts does overwhelm
in present as it did in madness past,
as Hypnos slips me blackened nightmare’s realm
my sanity becomes a lone outcast.
Stalking specter and there’s no protections,
I’m the victim with my mind in confines,
house of mirrors broken your reflections;
antagonistic mania still shines.
My life with you; you’re still inside my head,
though self-destruction chose as your fare-well.
Subconsciously you infiltrate with dread
as incubus revenge becomes my Hell.
Susan Ashley
September 23, 2018
*Hypnos: the ancient Greek god of sleep*
A star shinning in my heart with the morning light
When I thank God’s protections all through the night
A sun brightening my life in every way
Instilled by Holy Spirit guiding me day by day
A warm wind making me feel God’s omnipresence
Feeling the love and care of my family, clan and friends
A moonlight giving romance to sweet couple
Being in-love with my mission sharing and serving people
A rich garden with all the beautiful and fragrant flowers
As I’ve strength for challenges with smiles and laughter
The most wonderful grace from the Divine Providence
Making me grateful for all His gifts and my accomplishments
A fruit of the Holy Spirit born in one’s heart-core
Making me a blessing, Oh God to Thee, I joyfully adore!
July 31, 2022 10.06pm
JOY
Contest Judged: 8/10/2022 11:50:00 PM
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Place 10 (out of 10 single w)
Patradoot or The Messenger29 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
These young boys and girls, were brought up,
By their parents, with great love and affection,
Now they are mad, in love for their motherland,
To show the splendors of their youthful energy.
They are ready even to sacrifice their heads,
What to say of body pains and tortures inflicted on them,
By seeing such fearlessness and energy of their youth,
Even the enemy gets ashamed of, dear letter.
Triloki was one of these young boys,
Who happily took bullets on his chest, dear letter,
And kept on moving ahead without withdrawing,
Keeping the dignity of our nation and Satyagraha.
DESCRIPTION OF MY CITY ALLAHABAD
You will find my beautiful city Allahabad,*
In an ecstasy and full of rapture, flowing in it’s air,
When you will move on its roads and streets,
Along with the Postman, dear letter.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 12th August 2010 to continue in 30
Clarifications:
* Allahabad Also know as Prayag or Triveni is the most ancient city
of India, where river Ganga and Yamuna now meets at
the holy place called Sangam.
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
Supporting killing children
they will never ever get my vote again
when you abort a baby
your aborting God from your life
Non-christian parties
now they manifest in our country
protect the eight and democracy our freedom
Any party that supports death as a way forward
has lost my vote forever more
and I am not alone in this opinion in protecting our eight
to keep democracy safe and real
not infiltrated by foreign demons
Turning away from the commandments is a poor state of play
twisting every good value and deed pretending to care
offering choice a word that was given from above as a server
Pro killers I call anyone
who supports these doctor Shipphams
every soul has the right to live
Funny how good values has become the silent facts altered
people are afraid to be real and voice the truth as having the highest value
What kind of clown government calls a referendum
to remove certain protections at the cost of over 25 million
better they kept our country as is and house real problems
Beginning with the homeless and show caring compassion
rather than squander the money promoting sin
True Irishmen and Women would turn in their graves
they each and every one would lay their life down for their children
not murder them as this country needs to awaken
freedom has been removed bit by bit
this shedding blood is inhumane
it's time we stand in numbers for God
He is the chariot of our light
Does humanity ever change?
He deceives the people; claims he is a king.
Hang him on a cross would be just the thing.
They do not confess the truth of the church.
Burn them at the stake or worse.
Make them wear an arm band.
Then gas them throughout the land.
They are enemies of the state.
Thus, the gulags they create.
They do not comply with the revolution.
Eliminate them is the one solution.
Ban a book, delete an account,
Silence voices of decent.
Only allow majority assent.
For a man can only speak, what a man can think.
In these current days and times,
Government and media have combined,
To assault the language; thus, our minds.
Control the language, control the mind.
For man can only speak, what a man can think.
Folks let fear take them over.
Succumbing to popular notions;
Believing they provide protections;
Blinded by cowardly inventions.
Forgetting all of histories lessons,
Regarding dangerous insurrections,
Claimed by men seeking self-elevation.
Yet, there is no way to gage the power;
Of one man unwilling to cower.
Who stands up strong at the fateful hour;
Resisting wrongs of a throng’s clamor.
For a man can truly speak, when a man can think.
The bones of a forest are stripped clean by the ocean and strewn on her shores. The sun-bleached wooden cemetery leaves a somber impression on the morning scavenger of shells, who meanders in the gray mist of a fall morning dawn. He is lulled by the hush of the fog and the rolling waves that break on a gravel strand. With a head bowed down and hands crossed behind him... he searches... searches for opalescent treasures... like answers to life's questions. Is this how it all started, or is there some grander purpose? Then a gull caws as if an angel calls the seeker's attention. And as he looks up his sight receives a message delivered by two brown pelicans sailing along a cresting wave. This was here before you... and it will continue when you are gone. But now... you are mine... and we are one... divine.
by Martin Braun
6:30 a.m. September 20th, 2023
Jenner, California
To my oceanic compatriots. They put our love under a glass dome, posted deterrent signs on the paths we created 35 years ago, and sealed off the oceans. If they heard my, your, stories, they would run the environmental Bolsheviks into the sea like the demon-possessed pigs that they are. These self-righteous propagandists closed Drakes Oyster farm with lies, and they, like gulag interrogators of 1936, threw us into a sort of prison within the spaces of our minds, torturing us by excluding us from "the motherland's environment", and created an unimaginable wasteland with the walls they built by a lust for power. We are of this world... it is they who are aliens. Let us enjoy what God made. We created the protections with our respect and love for the environment. The environmentalists simply make laws, criminals, and prisoners.
A holy man, a profit of God, but of what God?
Rasputin the black snake of Eden, endowed with
Silvery fork tongue of the viper.
It slithered into the golden palace of paradise,
Coiling and oiling around the royal cradle of
Innocence, constricting it within the folds of lies
And deceit until the inhabitance could not breathe,
Or escape his spells of evil.
Behold the snake charmer of men’s souls,
Feasting at table of the sinful, relishing in
Pleasures forbidden orchards of unripen fruit.
In the chambered hallowed halls of the last
Czar of Russia, a gray monk’s robe turns red,
As a snake shedding its outer skin, gaining in
Strengths and power with every act of evil
It performs.
A royal mother’s love betrayed, by faiths
Lying profit, a jackal laughs beneath the
Tapestry’s of refinement, and the child of
Innocence lies unable to defend himself
Against the viper, named Rasputin.
But others seek the green eyed serpant
That hinds beneath the queen robes of
Protections and invites this masked
Judas of debotury's, to a dinner of
Nights pleasure under the guises
Of Deceptions ruse.
Beguiling the snake with wines poisonous
Yet brilliant color and flavors bouquet, the
Royal guardian’s awaited for the grim-ripper
To arrive and do his deadly deed by the death
Of this living evil incarnate.
But Rasputin realized this deception, and cursed
The royal household, to fall beneath the enemies
Beyond the gates of the royal house of golden thrones.
At the stroking hour the assanian's killed the profit,
Of lies, yet his legacy lived on as the golden palace
Fell unto the power of Rasputin curse.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Patradoot or The Messenger 39 /50
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
When in the nectar pond of her mouth,
My kiss use to take breathe, dear,
Even the pride of the beauties of heaven,
Seems faded before her charms, dear letter
When during her extreme laughs and passions,
The rows of her pearl like teeth appeared,
They use to wave like necklace of pearl,
In the red shines of her lovely lips, dear letter.
The round mark of her forehead used to disappear,
Whenever her face shined with luster dear,
Also during our love making,
When pride ever came in her mind, dear letter.
Such lovely face, of the moonfaced my beloved,
You would find without a smile dear letter,
The face that never bent in self respect,
You will find plight full, dear letter.
Her limbs which she used to keep covered,
With the softness and colors of beautiful silk sarees,
You would find them covered now with,
Coarse cotton Khadi colorless sarees, dear letter.
Seeing her motherland in miseries,
And her people unfed and uncovered,
She must be wearing that coarse clothes,
On her tender body in sympathy of her people,
Ravindra
Kanpur India 013th Sept 2010 continues in 40
Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
When pretty girls often walk past
I make sure I don't look too fast
I like being kissed
not feeling a fist
and that is how marriages last!
Limerick for 'write with the wit of Twain', sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
based on the Mark Twain quote-“There are several protections against temptation,
but the surest is cowardice”
06/22/2015
Untitled
You weren’t the gunman, but you didn’t want to see gay people kissing in public.
You weren’t the gunman, but you don’t like gay characters on TV.
You weren’t the gunman, but you think gay people are sinful and need saving.
You weren’t the gunman, but you were upset when gay people gained the right to marry.
You weren’t the gunman, but you use slurs for gay people.
You weren’t the gunman, but you would vote against legal protections for gay people.
You weren’t the gunman, but you’re the culture that built him.
You’re the bullets in his gun...
~ Written by fifteen-year-old Jared, formerly known as Megan ~
Jared’s original poem written 6~ 16~ 2016
When I go outside and see the homeless, I see one thing,
There are no homeless Hispanics and yet,
There is a Hispanic Panic amongst those who are paranoid
From the abuelitas selling taquitos to artists hawking cartoon portraits, street vendors were hustling long before the pandemic. But they are being forced to adjust even more due to the downturn caused by COVID-19.
Mexican merchants are struggling to keep their
Food Truck small businesses, LA Street Vendor’s, are not pan-handlers
For goodness’ sake, buy KEEP-SAKES!
In an era where more of our workforce is in the informal economy with zero protections and safety nets for emergencies
LA Street Vendor Campaign demonstrates how local solutions
can scale up and reach thousands of precarious workers
across Los Angeles and beyond.
#1
Strap on nice and tight
where the night knows what to say
can you feel it now?
#2
Jaws dropped to the floor
come touch my sexy headlights
window screen shut
#3
Protections breaks
hard wood moves towards velvet lips
white stains on my chest
Sandy I
11-8-12
Patradoot The Messenger 44/
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
How he sleeps, O dear letter without even a cot and bed
Resting on a rough blanket, lying on the floor, and
Who pats him, when he faces such tortures of the Jail life?
When sleeps also does not come.
He must be eating there, the tasteless dry foods of Jail,
That too, without ever getting a chance to hear,
The affectionate words, which makes a food,
More delicious or tasty, when it comes from your love ones.
O, please tell this also to me, dear letter,
Does my husband ever remember his life companion and
Does his eye ever get wet, while remembering,
His dear wife, who is so much away from him.
What message my dear husband has sent?
Through you, O’ sweetest of all dear letter,
What teachings, he has sent through you?
To tell his loving wife, please tell me, O dear letter.
Do not think an Indian woman,
To be a weaker sex only, dear letter,
She may sacrifices her life, for the one,
Whom she makes her life partner, dear letter.
Ravindra to continue in 45..
Kanpur India 06th January 2011
Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.
In the state of being equal,
Especially in status quo,
Rights, and opportunities not always shown.
Fairness
Justness
Equability
Impartiality
Even-handedness
not in this reality
I am a woman of the gender species
Speaking up loud, and bold for equality
Empowerment
Equal within interests, activities
Clothed consideration if able
Allow me to do it
Empowerment
Though, genetically-genitalia differences
Doesn’t necessary mean, we of different gender
Can’t hang, nor handle
Empowerment
Understandings of gender continually evolve
If we can handle it.
If it don’t hurt me short term or long term
If I can learn it, allow me to own it
Allow us to get along with it; In the course of a person's life,
The interests, activities, professions these are considered the domains of ...equal access
Enjoy the same rights, resources,
Opportunities and protections.
It does not require that girls and boys, or women and men,
be the same, or that they be treated exactly alike."
Allow me to do it
Empowerment
Though, genetically-genitalia differences
Doesn’t necessary mean, we of different gender
Can’t hang, nor handle
Empowerment
Understandings of gender continually evolve
If we can handle it.
Just allow me to do it if I’m able equally…
Same rights, resources, Gender equality
Allow me, to be free…
Empowerment
Allow me, to be free… Gender equality
Gender Equality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann |
Patradoot or The Messenger 37 /Many
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor
Originally written in Hindi by my
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
You will find my beloved, dear letter,
Faded like the clouds full of water,
Like after the night enjoyment dear,
The woman appears in the morning.
You will find her face pale, dear letter,
And her steps would be heavy and slow,
When you will notice these signs in her,
She is in pregnancy, you will come to know.
The gloom and paleness, on her face would have come,
Because of her separation from me, in her pregnancy,
Leaving her ornaments aside, dear letter,
You would find only love and modesty in her.
While beholding her beautiful lotus stem like hands,
They would look without the glow of shine, due to gloom,
When that lovely woman would appear before you,
To greet and welcome you, dear letter.
My beloved has not received any news about me,
Since a long time, dear letter,
While looking at her face You would watch, This
Has weathered the natural glow of her beauty.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 7th Sept 2010 continues in 38.
Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can
Send me an email on [email protected]
Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.
He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994.