Best Recognitions Poems
My heart egos and my life drained from me
Simple life I live, I act as I know all
But I know not, no, not even a little
I earnestly seek for recognitions
But my life and my heart is a hole.
An empty vessel, soulless, loveless
I have been succumb by the pain of heart aches
I have become a broken man,
Know not what my future holds
I envy those who went before me, who were acknowledge
I hold on to the little shred of hope in me,
I am being drowned by my own sorrows.
Love, hate, a new beginning and ending of my old self never seems to happen
My wrath against my enemies is nothing for they humor me with insults.
Let not death come to me in misery and despair,
For life is full of joy and full of sorrows.
Love me, as who would love a stranger from nowhere.
Let my sorrows be taken away by the love of many
But at last, no one would.
Don’t cry for me, for no one knows me
They came before my grave and said “who is this man?”
“Why is the name not written?”
It is not written because I am nothing
Don’t shed a tear for the stranger such as me.
Life is like a dream on a calm sea,
As the captain gracefully steer and gently moves its rudder.
The passenger puts their lives in his hands,
A calm sea is the heaven of any sailor.
“So, where is my captain?”
The wind blows every so gently,
But my heart sinks gently into the sea;
Who will mourn for the stranger?
Drowned from my grief,
My faith begins to waver like a ship tossed around by the winnowing wind
My heaven, my calm sea turns against me as I sail the Galilean sea
“Where are thy words that calm the raging storm?”
Ay! I have no peace even in my passing.
I have not thy words of command,
For my faith has been tossed away by the hating winds,
Shallow, empty, and broken I lay here in an unnamed grave.
Only thy mercy will guide me to the third heaven!
Let my sorrows be washed away by the blood of the innocent lamp.
Let thy words be the honey drops for mine,
As this world knows only lies
Blinded by greed and lust,
They seek only to destroy of what they fear.
And my sorrows are tossed away by thy promises.
For thy compassion for lost sheep is great.
"Have I found peace?"
I have, for I know my heart is at rest when my body has aged
And my salvation has come
When I died with thy Words of truth
Vincent Van Gogh
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Passion tormenting.
Acceptance? Unholy flaw.
Vibrant colors capturing,
All alone he saw.
Beyond starry skies at night,
Honored by his vibrant brush.
Cypress glory, bright,
Embedded images hushed.
Country houses, peasants, cows,
Smitten. His soul crushed.
Chestnut trees. And coleus.
Perfected by sorrows eyes.
Lilac bushes. Irises.
Still Van Gogh's soul cries.
Orchards' blossoms, olive trees,
Fields. Bottles. Hats. Books. And Seas.
Still-lives. Harvests. Groves.
Then, to the asylum led.
Protected from hurtful flows.
Eyes absorbing strife-
Gripping anticipations.
Frantic energetic strokes,
Garden. Creations.
Pondering at his easel.
Paint, brushes and canvas hoped.
Life moaned in his face.
Endless striving. His mind seized.
Competition wore him down.
Peer recognitions.
Pained. Rejected. Feeling naught.
Oh, “Sunflowers in a Vase”,
By death fame was bought.
"Self-Portrait In Front Of The Easel"
To view, use the link below.
http://globalwholesaleart.com/selfportrait-front-easel-p-6458.html
This poem was written for Abe Lopez's Van Gogh contest
Kim had funny hair when we were in second grade.
She made bad grades and sometimes got paddled
for being late to school too many times.
She wasn't good at jumprope
she was the last picked for any team.
She wasn't someone got paid attention to,
by those of us that got paid attention to.
Kim was white.
Latoya was dark skinned, flamboyant and poor.
During recess, some of us were hanging by our knees from the chinning bar.
Latoya decided to join in.
She never had before, but she
had some athletic ability
felt an urge to show off.
Yep, she hung there exposing her poverty through
the holes in her underwear
because she trusted our urging her to participate
to be sincere recognitions of her
talents.
They weren't.
We made fun of her
in cruel ways
we were seven or eight years old.
Kim, dear Kim, gently approached Latoya and said,
“Come with me, they are being mean to you.”
I learned kindness from Kim.
He was born in Yonkers, just north of New York City.
This man grew up to be funny and witty.
While working in a luncheonette owned by his family,
with the art of patois, Sid displayed proficiency.
As a funny comedian, he made his presence felt.
Sid got his start in upstate New York in the Borscht Belt.
As a saxophonist, his first job was at the Vacationland.
He became an influential member of the hotel’s band.
With the late Imogene Coca, he was a television pioneer.
On Broadway and in movies, Sid would also appear.
However, alcohol and barbiturates nearly destroyed his career.
A recovery brought him back into entertainment’s sphere.
Over the years, many awards and recognitions came his way.
At the age of ninety-one, Sid Caesar passed away.
RIP Sid Caesar
(1922-2014)
I thank both wikipedia.org online encyclopedia and variety.com for information
I obtained to write this poem.
I can only be sad when you are not,
I can only miss you when you are not,
My heart can simply grunt in long deep sighs --
When you are not here.
In those university days when I used to melt in nature
For long hours, and your worries are prominent on your forehead:
Apprehending that I got in unknown troubles;
Apprehending my whims of uncertain nature,
You waited for my return.
I still kept that memory fresh --
Your beautiful brown eyes, flash of that undiminishing glow of smile,
That innocent care, that unpretentious services
That you rendered in my mealtime;
When I was there in "Ramu Rubber Garden"--
That is still fresh like patel
That is still sticking to the rose.
What should I call you then? -- my 'rose',
That glows in the first light of slenting sunrays:
You are ever glowing like that sunrise;
You are more than a glow --
You are the round ball, the source of that glow.
I learnt to enjoy the beauty of the sunrise and sunset,
Over the melting profusion of colours,
Over the crests of the dicudious trees,
Over the valleys of crimson shades--
Because you were that "round ball";
You were the source of life and light in those days.
On your death, I blow bcak and forth like
A restless gale of wind.
You are, to me, a world of recognitions from the
Transition of the childhood simplicity into aestehtic eternity.
You are to me, a pure piece of art, an unending tune
Stretched on the unending timeline.
I miss you now as you are not;
I miss you because I love you --
Love that graces mankind in beautifully molten sadness.
Islands in the Stream
Islands linked together like forged argent charms,
In straights of silent, surging currents,
Where Watchtowers of Fresnel lens sound fog sirens
Where sacred shoals harbor shame forgiven;
Lightships built high on cribs and Keys of truth finally seen
As bright argand lamps on chariot wheels send out beacons,
To signal sightless ships with broken masts and rudders
Through whirlpools of turbulent canals and gushing straights,
To find serene deep-water ports in chains of channeled islands.
Yet, these no islands only mountaintops of maturity climbed
From submerged land coupled at a thousand leagues
Beneath the tidal moon enchantment;
Restoring milestone harbors of illumination
Words lit by isophase candle lamps inside carved prisms
Expanding light waves of thought - recognitions of new plateaus
Topping astragals of aerobeacons with untasted adventures
Into enlightenments leaving behind each newly explored isle -
New christened tall ships navigate siren’s lure in uncharted streams.
9-20-21
Contest: Islands in the Stream
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
The image in my mirror,
(Some loving mother’s son),
Has no identity,
No name from anyone.
Mottled thoughts surround me
Each one a treasure trove
Living there as episodes
My past has lived and wove.
A woman in my doorway
Asks: “How you feelin’, Dad?”
But I cannot recognize
This wandering maenad.
Things appear before me
Throughout my normal day
But recognitions of what they are
Alzheimer’s stole away.
I can’t feel the sorrow,
The loss nor the disdain
Within a face before me
Upon which displays pain.
I’m filled with love and longing
Which I want to shine on through …
But, I can find no one I know
To whom I can give it to.
For Mystic Rose Rose
Bring me Home
Poetry Contest
Tuesday
28th September 2021
Bring Me Home
Today back when
What I'd like to give you is
A subtle heady mix of perfume and cologne
Before or just incase my mind and
recognitions fail me
Based purely on my childhood memories
Of what my mother and father's
actually smelled like to me
Which was embedded and infused into the
threadbare carpets born out over time inside
our family home
That once I was eventually forced into
finally replacing
Was then lost in time forever unable to return
Wishing although brand new later I never
had to replace
Because something new never will be able
to evoke the sensibility of the past
And once it's finally gone ever able to replace
As something you simply took for granted
as a certain scent or smell
No 1 else on this earth possesses but them
Like mum retuning home from a long
hard 12 hour shift from the hospital
where she once nursed breezing bye
With an aromatic blend of industrial
detergent and cigarette smoke
And dad embedded with what can only
be described as electricity and T.C.P
Garnered from the tubes that we're the
main component in the back used to
power old t.v sets
Is what every night I pray to dream
Following whichever comes first mother's
perfume or dad's cologne
Bings me home
And may I also take this opportunity of thanking you
Oh Mystic
For making me take the time to
stop and smell the sweet scented
rose's of my past once again
And for reminding me just how truly blessed
and grateful I should be
When wondering why
Earth is
as S/He are
Follow green capital wealth,
he monopolistically advised,
for playing more catastrophic
future win/lose games
And yet, remembered s/he,
also lead to future win/win learning
with full-spectral
deep mindful
panentheistically organic
green vegetation nature,
and blue sky nurture,
and red skies at night nutrition
Dusky and well-moisturized
nonviolent communications
better trauma-informed physically robust health
of a non-anthrosupremacist
nonverbal planet
seasonally inviting cooperative metaphysical wealth
of a synergetic EarthTribe
unitarian experience
Currently wondering why
Earth is
as S/He are
Where two or three
green gift economies
green polycultural ecologies
green empowering theologies
are thriving worldwide hypostatic wins
Start there to follow triple co-investments
and here to lead cooperative compassions
toward optimizing inside personal health
also includes restoring outside social wealth
Opportunities
to grow more elegant
and civil
and enlightened
and depolarized
and less chronic stress-triggering
To integrate social
green
panentheistic capital growth outcomes
with red-is-right fisted trauma prevention
reducing blue/green climate desecration anxiety
Thereby planning to harvest
improved eco-political health care
giving
And global co-empathic wealth
warm
wet
wombed
sacred soul and soil
and sea and seasons
CoPassionate green fragrances
felt
and formed
and functioning
Flowing out past
win/win recognitions
inflaming intuited sacred grace
Health Yang-given out
past
Wealth Yin-received in
futures wondering why
Earth is
as S/He are.
Word Trio in D Minor
Who? Me?
Dude, I’m just a confused star-watcher like you.
The movie of life continually plays before us,
Here in the cinematic darkness of another dying day;
Celluloid memories dressed in black parade before us like lost ghosts;
We sad souls, hopeful but hopeless,
Scan the heavens for a distant voice, a silent nod,
Even for a faint whisper of response,
From the Giver and Taker of all.
For the *****, dressed scantily in baleful blue,
Continues to turn and bend like Eden’s snake;
Moist, slippery oozing scenes take place once again in the leafy palisades.
We star-watchers know where to gaze,
We choose which stars to kill with an empty barrel.
The asphalt avenues remind us of the nights ahead,
They veer as a woman veers,
After bitter recognitions in the morning,
After anguished eyes have seen the drooling truth;
They confront us as dust confronts the dead,
They guide us as lanterns in the cold fog.
They know the truth is hidden in plain sight.
Who? Me?
Dude, I’m just another lost soul like you.
Lost as men without contemplation or reconciliation;
Lost as women without gesture or spasm, but
We star-watchers will bring roses for the dead,
We will sing the songs of submission and survival;
We will dance to the music of madness,
And we will continue to scan the skies and the stars
For a distant voice, a silent nod,
Even for a faint whisper of response,
From the Giver and Taker of all.
What Comes To Mind
Busy work, not idle time,
no real thinking, blank and sublime.
Rake the grass, feel the breeze.
Sweep the walk of crispy leaves.
Washing dishes, pay no mind.
And soon the thoughts appear
I find.
Concepts flow poetically,
old ideas in simplicity.
Obvious recognitions;
never gave thought.
Now become a page of notes.
Emotions flit, flashback scenes
conclusions escaped until now.
Amazing how when mind’s turned off
natural pleasures fill its space.
Flowing thoughts
becoming words.
Things I’ve said
but never heard.
So pen in hand
I write and say
The things I busy worked away.
Words After New Year
The words are dwindling now
but they will come again
in time, towards this year
with the purity of silk strewn
through a ring.
I will wait for the words
because unlike politics
these things have to be
seen to, with patience
and care like a plant
on mulched sand.
Sadness and Walking By The Moonlit Sea
I do not
whisper about the moonlit sea
anymore.
because I am past
the age of innocence
and recognitions
of times
I have betrayed
to someone else.
Instead I will wait
and if you betray me
I will write about you
with such fervour
you will wonder
what hit you
when I write
of two soldiers
walking by
a moonlit sea
after days parched
in the desert.
The Black Nazarene
The Black Nazarene moves now.
Each year,
during the passage
of our Black Nazarene,
I am cursed to follow
a certain predicament
funny
predictable
infuriating.
Now I find you
and nothing
but sand.
This man
who reminds me every year
of what I have done
what I have done
what I have done
to both of us.
Is It The Devil In Me
The devil in me
says take it.
Take the pen and be master
of your destiny.
I fear the walls are thin
between us
and you can see
my transparent
sinewy motives
like tea stains on
words of old books,
maps, atlases of desert dunes
that hold the key to
fate and destiny, of lovers,
soldiers and the piety
of children who do not know
yet how to hold
a pen.
For all that it is worth was contained in a single droplet of thought
in symbiotic deliverance
shall pass perhaps unnoticed by a billion suns
or find it’s way in chaotic course
discover the enchanted spells of Icarus
And in form so complex present itself
Centuries coalesce into a single moment
the precariousness of miracles
only await for recognitions nascence
what other supplicants breath so endeavors
in exultation of a universe
And in form so beauteous reveal itself
It is but a living thing
so of molded intricacies ever described in geometries
to distinguish the passages of galaxies
the potential heartbeats of a billion witnesses
stand upon the precipice a precarious miracle it is
And in form so singular only perfection could have created it
For all that it is worth was contained in a single droplet of thought
Attention!! About Face!! Salute!! AT EASE!!
These are the commands the soldiers from
The Lord's military force hear when they make it
To Heaven's gate after Judgment and recognitions
Have taken place and they have gotten their star filled crowns.
Then these soldiers throw these crowns at the feet of Jesus and worship.
Then they are told they ain't gotta fight no more (for now anyway) and are
Given new tasks that them happy and cause all Heaven to rejoice.
Best part no more worries of earth; no more sickness, no more worries about war, poverty, bills, preparing for what has already taken place-the end of life.
So right now we are hearing Forward March!! but at the end of life if we keep living in the Lord's will we'll hear Salute!! and AT EASE!!
RECOGNITIONS
simple
memoranda
of
an
appreciation
of
the
acknowledged
single mindedness
so
evident
in
self conscious
realizations
& detailed
exressions
of
understanding
eyecatching
motifs
disintegrate
elegant
vulnerable
&
numerous
sensitive
substitutes
the
influential
comment
to
illuminate
a
reposte
yet
so
inadequate