Best Recipients Poems
Gifts of stuffed toys make my special child
delight vibrantly in freedom bliss
as he cuddles them joyously
to create magical time of beautiful wonders
transforming his bed into marvelous haven.
Awesome bonding moments
grasp him around fellowship with his friends:
soft monkey, furry ape, smooth dog,
huggable bear, silky dinosaur
bringing sheer laughter of amazement-joy.
With sign language and gestures of care
he attends to them in his relaxation time
midst roll-call they understand
as he lines them up in his organized manner
expecting for their presence.
In his mirth-filled grin
he picks them up one by one
conscious of their responses
heartfully warming him therapeutically
never defying his touches and embraces.
As he prays and gives thanks to God
my special child asks blessings for his stuffed toys
midst utterances they all comprehend
expressing his affection toward them
like how his Mom loves him so dearly.
Before he drifts to sleep
he covers them with his own blanket
assuring their safety around his protection
while he allows my hands to extend toward them
since for him, "we are a family."
Yes, his stuffed toys understand his quirks
as they play with him with their flexible compliance
keeping him company of significant worth
enabling his individuality to exude compassion-manners
while enhancing his kindness-deeds.
More than soft toys, they are my special boy's treasures...
...gifts from people who love him --- whom he values likewise
as both recipients and benefactors of care, comfort, and cheer
... since they exemplify God's grace, goodness and generosity
while radiating hope, peace, and triumph for their functionality
though, of course, they can never and must not be....
... substitutes for a loving home.*
*Psalm 127:1 Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it.
September 16, 2025
1st place, "More Than A Soft Toy" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on 9/26/2025.
10th place, "2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 20" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney; judged on 10/8/2025
The middle class here can't be saved
When 0.001% act so depraved
Their wealth without end
These royals* still pretend
Did not come from us—their
enslaved**
*The Royals: CEOs, Banksters, Revolving Door Regulators, The FED, Congressmen for sale, Lobbyists, Board Members of Big Corporations, Major Shareholders who vote for these Board
Members, Corrupt Managers, Dishonest Used Car Salesmen, Presidential Candidates with more than two Residences, Elected Presidents (and their lackeys who pretend to regulate but look the other way)
**The Enslaved: Workers, Career Regulators who are trying to protect the public, Honest Hard Working Citizens, Students--some with oppressive loans, Immigrants, Soldiers, Police, Firemen and Firewomen, Parents, Children, Orphans, Disabled, The Sick, Small Business Owners (who don’t hire lobbyists), Volunteers, Health Care Workers, Welfare Recipients, Inventors, Investors, Entrepreneurs, Actors, Artists, Journalists who do in-depth investigation (not like those with FOX News, ABC Radio or many other of the outlets where they mouth the status quo), Non Profit Corporations, Charities, Teachers, Transportation Workers, Waiters and Waitresses, Dishwashers, Servants, Farmers, Managers, Ship Hands, Cooks, Unemployed
Author' s Note: Have been at Occupy Wall Street 8 days in the past two months--which is why I haven't been here--plus I have to work. Miss you all, but it's for a good cause. I am very briefly seen on Conan's feature: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog at Occupy Wall Street if you are looking for some humor with a little umph.
devout pilgrim lips
in discovery's journey
leave love offerings
sacred shrines of her body
devotion's recipients
Jade Celeste
S - Sol reigns supreme in ebony space
P - planets orbit in a cosmic race
E - each determined never to embrace.
C - Comet tails trail away from his face
T - tracing a path that time will erase
A - and mask its passage without a trace.
C - Clouds are recipients of His grace
U - unhindered they roam from place to place.
L - Luna has a way of giving chase
A - an eclipse becomes her secret ace
R - resetting time, to a lunar pace.
The minstrel and the rubbish
To a homeless in N.Y., who had a guitar to keep him company
But he that is greatest among you shall be your servant.
(Matthew, 23, 11)
The rubbish was blown aside
by the arid marching of the wind
leaving the whole street clear
for the minstrel who was crooning
his latest composition
to the street’s dream-recipients,
while the voltage of the wind
was going down at intervals
under the burden
of the unexpected stave.
The night was watchful
- you’d say she dreaded –
lest she bumped into the chords
and crush their solitary waving.
Breastfeeding music the minstrel
was opening up new pathways
to the question marks
of his melodies.
Me, what was I then
I still haven’t found.
Wind, rubbish, onlooker
or something else?
The minstrel ’s mute audience,
the rubbish, transcended its nature
at Time’s attendance register
and, after all, it would not
have always been rubbish
and some of it would have had
its own illustrious past, too,
and it must have known
what it means to have
eyes that leave Love
as a map to find them back
and warmth that has left,
as a memorial,
its fleeting past,
with Hope
as its one and only stamp.
All alone the minstrel,
homeless with his homeless guitar
housed his trivial dreams,
under the yoke
of the obese city’s wind,
in his Heavenly Melodies.
(translated by the original ‘O ???a??d?? ?a? ta s???p?da’, by the poet, from his book of the same title.)
A beautiful colorful day,
every flower greeting hellos.
I'm joyfully kissing love,
many nights.
Only polite quiet recipients,
sound true universal valentines.
Wanting xylophone youthful zeal.
A summer's evening stroll
in the downtown.
Tiny flying bugs
maneuver in the wind.
A hobo with one hand
strums a guitar,
his traumas grate against the air
as his style
-the blues-
echoes from his instrument.
Older ladies rush home
their purses clutched tight to their sides.
Knowing the approach of wicked darkness
is near,
and the welfare recipients who wander
the streets perhaps need
extra cash.
Druggies begin to appear.
Their morning,
and day
-hours in which to score a hit-
is others sleeping time.
This is the downtown.
When the summer evening winds down.
Golden is silence, words often said
Written words linger inside one’s head
Poets have ways of leaving their mark
In the stars and inside someone’s heart.
Reader and writer may never meet
Yet words swing along to one's heartbeat
It’s a poets gift of art come through
That lifts one's spirit when life is blue.
Poems of love leave one warm and snug
Alike being tucked up in a rug
Those of faith, there’s many can relate
They guide folk to the Lord’s golden gate.
Tribute poems melt the toughest hearts
They mean so much, are top of the charts
To recipients words mean a lot
They're alike sweets from a candy shop.
Poetic humour brightens one’s day
A laugh a day keeps the grumps away
And in the silence of loneliness
Cheer up poems are simply the best.
You are a very precious treasure more than a golden gem
Working so hard for many years serving your fellowmen
You shared your knowledge, strengths and whole self lovingly
For the benefits of all…making life so worthy for everybody
Your life with this job can be in diversions of path
At times you swerve, you just go ahead and never stop
Being dogged and determined in everything you do
All graces in life from God, through others kept pouring on you
As you are finally retiring on your noble job
You can look back and see your great achievements in life
Not merely on material things but on your career and infinite love
So enormous in the eyes of recipients and your friends around
Your retirement doesn’t mean, it is already the end
It is a new beginning to enjoy your rich rewards and blessings
It’s the most wonderful time to spend your whole life with your family
The alpha and omega of your love and generosity in your community
by Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
11/Sept/14
I have stories in my heart I want to tell
Some of people in paradise and others in hell
I know all the characters in my stories well
Some perish, while some are saved by the bell
The characters are just you and me in print
Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink
They maybe imagined, made up names and identities
But they are just like us, our situations and realities
Like God running the world and carrying out his plans
I forge words and create stories with twists and turns
Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose
Where no one can escape the blues
I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch
The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench
Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas
Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance
Heartbreaks all over and death in the end
In imagination as in reality, its hard to find a friend
Every man for himself and every woman abused
Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used
Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales
Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails
Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales
People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails
Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients
Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients
I compose the truth in exaggerated prose
Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose
My characters may not be close to fame just yet
But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet
More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth
Best laid plans, matters of life and death
An unedited anthology of human tragedies
An underground bible of life’s vanities
With chapters and passages for my eyes only
Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely
When that day comes maybe I will be famous
But for now, I am unpublished anonymous
Puzzled are the recipients of a fruit cake from Santa Claus this year!
Seems that Yuletide ain't complete 'less you git one to bring you cheer!
Fruit cakes are much maligned and I'm here to set the record straight!
However, I must admit 'tis one of the most bizarre things I ever ate!
Even a mediocre chef can be very creative in concoctin' such confection,
Tossin' in all kinds of dubious stuff and whippin' it up to perfection!
Yule never know what Yule find when into a fruit cake you slice!
You just have to take yer chances! 'Tis a proverbial roll o' the dice!
Should you choose not to eat the thing for fear of breakin' a tooth,
There are numerous functional uses fer this lowly delicacy, forsooth!
They make a wonderful door stop, foot stool or a very formidable missile,
When hurled at yer neighbor's yappin' mutt, that ever makes you bristle!
This is a not so subtle reminder so as in your mind there'll be no doubt,
If you're givin' fruit cakes as gifts next year, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
remember it's not the "actual" data
it's only the metadata, but we
never met a data we didn't love
there's treasure in detritus debris
with intense Holmesian determination
we'll be able to infer and deduce
some linked reference, some correlation
between pointed data bits obtuse
government or company or corporation
don't matter the size of digital scrap
data microscope will reveal motivation
wanted are all of the small bits of crap
listing phone logs, search queries and such
myriad IP addresses and email recipients
to squirrel away with the lightest of touch
GPS Lat-Long located and databased insidious
to imply we spy on domestics is irrational
since we're "multi-national" by determiner
we're only looking at the "foreign nationals"
'course from "over there" you're the foreigner
you see there's nowhere to run away
no thought too trivial or secret to reveal
what networked digital crumbs can convey
is what gives metadata its big data appeal
© Goode Guy 2013-08-22
A true daughter,
Delightful.
A polished gem in the Good Master's crown.
Another soul of the Virtues demonstrates
Further the role of Faith in our Lord's realm
Of the here and now...
Singing so sweetly to our Jesus
Of all the love that she had long since found in Him.
Favored for her adherence to having,
Applying the small grain of a mustard seed to the
Existing situations that she might be faced with...
Situations that daunt her not in the least...
That by the authority of His Name this dear sister
Is no stranger to speaking the Word into these
Areas of her life... into the lives of others that she has come
To hold so dear.
A maker, seller of lovely jewelry is a gift she gladly possesses,
Makes the most out of this special talent, this special craft.
Makes the recipients of these hand crafted jewels joyful of heart,
And the ones to whom had never heard the message of our
Lord's salvation,
Eternally grateful, for now they too will one day walk the Kingdom's
Streets of gold with praise, thanksgiving in their hearts.
For now though these newly born into the Kingdom take up their
Own God given gifts and talents to use them in full measure for
His Glory and many people's good... while they pass on the most
Valuable message of Jesus' redemption to all who would say yes
Lord and believe it so.
Wisdom, lessons gained.
To rise, to walk in the here and now.
Chiraq
Date: Sun, Nov 15 2015 at 9:22 PM
("Killings")
("Victims")
"Imprisoned"
Highest ("Statistics")
In the ("System")
And of ("Disease")
Feeding the belly of the Beast "Obese"
Separated from Fathers & "Mothers"
Become "Hustlers"
Of the Streets Become "Brothers"
They Judge US by "Colors"
Only rightfully Almighty God Judge Can "Conduct"
"Poverty"
"Animosities"
Against the "Society"
Of the "Rivalries"
"Fighting" amongst Each "Other"
Mothers "Crying"
City "Dying"
Children in the City caught into "Violence"
Police "Sirens"
Ambulances "Flying"
To the scene "Outlining"
Of the Innocent "Lying"
Guilty of the Choices "Decided"
Drugs, & Guns "Imported"
From the "Forces"
To Openly "Extorting"
In the Man's "Voyage" Of "Torrents"
College "Tuitions" an "Unemployment"
Not Enough "Fruition" in the Schools Educational "Fulfilment"
I'm Speaking of Knowledge & "Wisdom"
Not in Texts "Written"
An History or Historic "Recipients"
It's Books "Written" of Historic "Apprenticeship"
"Inventions" Etcetera "Printed"
But in schools today not "Descended"
Math, Science, Reading, (Language) "Arts"
Speaking a "Language"
"Nameless"
to say isn't the "Hearth"
Of a "Nation" Created from the "Arch"
Of Gods "Blueprints"
It's not Blue's Clues to find the Blue "Scripts"
The (Media's) "Encyclopedias"
Is "Onamotopoedia"
Same Sound repeating the Image of the "Deceivers"
Amongst the ("Receivers")
Gangs, Sets, "Organizations"
Built on ("Foundations")
Amongst the Creation of the ("Nation")
That has been "Forsaken"
This the life "Chose"
Of ("Those")
Generations from Generations ("Rose")
Pray for a Change but I'll never "See" it
Because we Endangered Species in Existence upon ("Extinction")
I Hate Chicago an the World for number of ("Reasons")
I ain't on the Outside looking ("In")
Looking from Both sides of the ("Tent")
I ("Vent")
Is life all that has to offer to ("Exist")?
A little girl came wandering out
She was dressed up to the nines
Like a mung bean munching hippy
But her father claimed she was divine.
She glowed and preened, with a smile of joy
In her clothes of different hues
With a little gleam of confidence
Dealt from Dads’ loves expressive views.
There’s many people living now
That have seen or been that child
New endeavours can bring infancy
Given growth when someone’s smiled.
Encouragement is a precious gift
Helping recipients conquer fear
Motivation aids improvement
Because purpose lives when someone cares.
Remember hugs don’t always come from arms
Warm words they can embrace
Our choice is that we use them right
There’s reward from a fabulous smiling face.