Best Redrawn Poems
Dwell not, O soul, on yesterday,
on sorrows past and gone -
the sketch you drew so long ago,
today may be redrawn.
Dwell not upon tomorrow's wars,
nor borrow from their pain -
that energy you need today
let not your worries drain.
Dwell not, O heart, on failures past
though each one left its scar -
rich lessons you have learned have forged
the person you now are.
Dwell not upon your victories,
for those shall also pass -
let not your pride construct a shrine
to trophies made of glass.
Dwell not, O soul, on others' gain
nor envy those with much -
contentment, paired with gratitude,
brings peace no wealth can touch.
Dwell not on anyone's downfall
as though it lifted up
your own estate; we're siblings all
and drink from the same cup.
So what is left, O soul - where does
the prudent soul pay heed?
Become less of a taker
always give to those in need.
Which seeds are we to plant
upon this plot of ground we plow?
Sow seeds of love, be brave, and dwell
in the eternal now.
Written 6 Dec 2020
One must imagine Sisyphus’s
boulder, marble-sized these days
And Ozymandias’ plaque,
spinning despair into praise
Look on, ye hypocrites,
and sneer at my undoing
Your universe is a giant sandpit,
entropy accruing
Their legacies long crumbled,
eroded by rust
Gods built the wrong way,
on scaffolds of dust
Virtue or vice register
equally the same
Except between stars,
there’s space for one more grain
Down here, we clock in daily,
stack hours like prayer
Worship strong Wi-Fi,
evangelize on thin air
Imagine heavenly echoes,
because the silence isn’t fair
Some develop connection,
others a thousand-yard stare
Our Earth splits naturally,
along seismic lines
Greenwich claims centre stage,
only for the meantime
Sisyphus, still aching,
gets an epidural at last
But only in hindsight,
for his hump blocks the past
Redrawn are our own lines,
watchtowers in the sand
Sketching new borders,
carving up the promised land
Exhume ancient treasure,
and black, viscous stuff
Addicted to all things buried,
as if our dead weren’t enough
Still we write blindly,
tracing glyphs already faded
Helps lift the mood
when depressed and jaded
Gods stand on shaky ground,
myth holds them together
In schisms that bind billions,
then sever forever
Oh, look on—ye poet
Sisyphus now rolls his eyes
He’s seen the apps, wars,
hoodies, and cable ties
His hamster wheel’s a meme
for gods who merely try
Small wonder he mutters,
at least Ozymandias gets to die
And sometimes I pray to gods,
or maybe their ghosts
About versions of me
I’ve been missing the most
They don’t directly answer,
but do leave this guess
In the end, to keep on rolling
may be my passing success
By David Kavanagh
The estate of my spreading life
has been plowed over many times.
Plantations have withered and been replanted,
grain fields have turned to dust,
have laid fallow for years
yet now the corn is high and golden again,
trees felled and burnt now grow tall.
Mind body and spirit maps
have had to be redrawn,
shorelines and boundaries moved.
However now I can walk my mind back into past times
and circle all the seasons of my existence
at once.
Barn doors are wide open to tomorrow lands,
My earth is still rich and good,
my store runneth over.
I am not the master here, just a worker following
a tilling, plowing, and seeding Owner;
I am charged only to oversee
this landscape of me.
When this soil I have worked
at last is blown away on the winds of time
a plantation of plenty
will be reflected in the mirror of eternity,
and I will be a servant of my most High Self
at home once more in my Master's mansion.
Another whole year has come and gone
Perhaps this year we'll awake to a new dawn
Where world peace will reign
We'll throw away the chains
And the map of the world will be redrawn
© Jack Ellison 2016
Good writing sings and always brings
a sense of clarity and coherence,
out of chaos, strife, and cloudy nights
for those with perseverance.
Good writing brings laughter, sends smiles to the rafters
and can take us to places unknown,
like Venus, Mars and innumerable stars
and give comfort when we're all alone.
Good writing makes a mind keep trying
to figure out the next chapter,
around the bend where time suspends
while pondering things that matter.
But good writing doesn't always end
where its author thought it should,
as oftentimes we lose ourselves
walking in the woods.
Good writing can save a sinking soul
from drowning in crashing waves,
and make a new start with a brand-new heart
redrawn, a new dawn, a new day.
And good writing wins again and again
when it lands on somebody's shore,
where they're lying around with their feet on the ground
and finally found
what they're looking for.
We humans are like freshly washed clothes on clothes lines
fluttering in gentle breeze, different designs,
made up of all colours, different shapes and size
created for certain jobs, live under same skies,
we have purpose, a reason, we are all needed
like clothes on that line one day we'll be depleted,
through out life our bodies and our minds change, redrawn
lost sent down unknown paths looking for a new dawn,
feeling life's burden just like that heavy clothes line
unable to be free in grips of its confine,
if our clothes are uncared for, not washed hung to dry
they can always be reused, we wither and die,
I see those drying clothes in a different light
life on lines so colourful, useful, soft and bright.
I stand on the plate with the sun in my eyes
the pitcher is ready, a fastball he flies
I swing just as hard as I possibly can
love says "strike one" as I try it again
I choke up on the bat, pull down on my bill
nodding my head, a new pitcher on the hill
it hurls past my chest, just missing my heart
love says "ball one" as the clock again starts
it's the seventh inning stretch, I need the relief
I brush off the dust, no way will I retreat
the coach saunters over, giving a pep talk
as the lines are redrawn on the infield with chalk
the board shows each tally, each inning not close
no intervention from heaven or its holy hosts
and I shut the book on yet, another losing season
I'll still play the game with faith in the reasons
The frost has etched the green grass white.
Lavender clouds chased a red rimmed moon.
The maples branches writhe with fright
and I'm alone in a cold, cold room.
A light snow lifts the nascent gloom.
Moon caste blue shadows sparkle, now dance,
as twigs skitter across the flurried lawn.
They seem to twirl on point, they prance.
I watch through the pane to the dance drawn.
The bleakness of night is now redrawn.
A symphony of woodwinds flute,
reeds whistle and brush a rousing beat,
deep in my heart a delight roots;
I'm warmed now by a scene so sweet,
snow for Christmas what could compete?
disillusionment gathers
like an incoming storm
with impending doom
rainless clouds
become the reigns
of the thunderous rage
toppling statues like trees
along paved walks
where peace one gathered
flags now burn upon the grounds
and those that fought to protect
lie unearthed within the fury
as headstones tumble
like dominos downward
common grounds become trampled
battlegrounds now redrawn
as the world looks onward
through the haze of destruction
awaiting the smoke to lift
yet the storm
rages on
unscathed
June 28, 2019
N-A rerun 9
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Brian Strand new poetry contest 2
Contest judged 6/29,2020
(it's the only n/a I have from this time frame, I don't consider it political but if you do and care not to place it, I understand!)
France is now ruled by Macroniens,
A species of urban boboniens,
Passably bright,
Not too far Right,
But perhaps just the latest d….d phonyens.
To keep France in order, the PoF
Must avoid moves might put them off :
An appeal to the Centre
Is a smart way to enter,
But too motley his triumph to bring off.
Credit, and how ! where credit is due,
Macron’s talent is rivalled by few.
He’s redrawn for the times
The political lines,
Like Bonaparte, de Gaulle and their crew.
His hold on power is complete,
Jupiter with cast hyper-elite.
No proles are in sight,
Now that can’t be right,
They may come to think he’s a cheat.
The particular Aventurine SA announces the particular achievement regarding couple of years from your launch regarding MMO Darkfall. Around the celebration with the next loved-one's birthday with the largest game inside the Ancient greek language industry, the business should lessen the value and also for your in-game items can be clients with the video game.
Today, the particular capitals of each contest inside Darkfall have got put on their particular joyous since fireworks climb at any time clear through the entire night time. About Comes to an end with 20: 25, the entire world regarding Agon will probably be filled up with red flags and the ones which see them can are able for specific in-game cash incentives.
Around the celebration regarding couple of years, Aventurine something special to all or any clients regarding twenty-five. 000 Yoga Items, that may today become included with the particular report of the getting regarding initially inside the video game. Shelling out from the Log with the video game, participants should be able to improve the expertise by themselves will probably be real world.
http://www.buydarkfallgold.net/
Things inside the video game have got extra specific joyous guns, along with fireworks, which usually participants will get coming from mobs or perhaps create to produce virtually any metropolis inside the Clinical. Chances are they can easily broke (sandynamitakia) everywhere they will want, producing breathtaking explosions.
Even more essential adjustments want to do with all the GUI with the video game, that has been redrawn, which will increase the parallel efficiency of each and every player's link with the particular server. Ultimately, there was clearly an important modify around the problem regarding PvP. People participants eliminate heroes are usually helpful contests (and also simply by file format drop positioning), must will no longer wish inside places of worship (places of worship), that may "forgive" their particular sins and definately will raise the positioning, in opposition to any payment inside rare metal.
Ring with no feather in my cap only envy
at handsome man drakes with bucks,
who could bank on "hot chicks" willingly
aligned in arrow emitting clucks
fluffing their respective tail feathers amidst
loud squawking out quacking
establishing pecking order like ducks,
or any other foxy fowl billetted
within walled din noisy hen house
preening, each be solder self flux
sing wings and waddling, flirting, casting...
webbed wide good lucks
at the growing flock
including male friends relatives,
minus yours truly, whose presence,
would merely generate a yawn,
though even a distinct black swan
received royal carpet treatment
particularly one named Shawn
encompassing another honorable guest
with illustrious surname Rawn
guests underwritten by Cupid,
whose presence surreptitiously withdrawn
(invitations distributed widely explained,
just beak cuz gerrymandering redrawn)
even provoking deer interest
of stray doe eyed fawn
hence lacking bravado and brawn
this bird den some seedy,
yet dove out crow kissing Avocet
trundled off to parts unknown you bet
far from boys stir russ, raw cuss, diss cuss
ting clacking clique, and thus this solitary fret
full ostracized, rejected, unwanted egret,
who heron there experienced many a let
down, not simply because of stork disparity
with the Aves and havenots,
but I never met
any other species so set
in their ways, hence off
on a wing and prayer
in search of other gulls,
whom this dodo bird they will coe vet!
Daybreak
So cold the night, like dead man’s hands,
Alone the weary watchman stands
cloak wrapped against the scything breeze,
His salt burned eyes cast to the seas.
Charts, geometric instruments,
In Illuminated casements,
All glint and gleam by candlelight,
Dancing devils in darkest night.
Useless tools for starless skies
adrift and blind until sunrise,
The crew uneasy, standing too,
Awaiting dawns first signs of blue.
Then, with a hint of indigo,
Heavens wide edge begins to glow,
Slowly, nights darkly shade rolls back,
Bright gold expelling deepest black.
Our spirits rise to greet the dawn
as details of the world, redrawn,
by the rising fiery lord of light,
Appear to our returning sight.
No fleeting moment commenced
nor satisfied by pride, the rock we all stand upon
Crimes against humanity are crimes nonexistent
Why, since us, the human race, are actively conducting these great sins upon ourselves
What do we pursue:
a world of peace, equality
a world in coexistence we stand
walking down the streets without that growing fear
without bolstering we need a holster for protection
Isn't one of the commandments of public religion
'Do not kill' but it's okay if you're in self defense
or feel you're threatened
an eye for an eye, do I have it right
but they don't take eyes, they take lives
that domino effect wished to be erased
Now we embrace the means of ending conflict with wars
instead of with words
air our grievances without phrases and meanings since we're big kids now
We've graduated from fist fights
to a revolver that leaves no trace
psycho passes of 208 and no one listening
There's plot after plot to assassinate others for the fun of it
for the make of it, for the Gods that beg for it
for some outside force no one seems to see
commanding blood on the door
If this is what freedom truly is
the consent by the universe, by man
to die at the hands of an object created by someone who is of the same flesh as me
leave me a motorcycle so I can attempt to ride it off to Mars
Why do we live like this
They say we have the power to change things
but we have no power for this
This is a worldwide civil war, a worldwide civil war
but there are no definite sides
just an oval like fortress for the people who don't care for your origin, you're a human like the rest of us so here you are our friend
I count myself among them
yet I fear the outside world just doesn't care at all
This is a worldwide civil war and the battle lines are skewed
for these lines are redrawn by the months and setting sun
This is a worldwide civil war but I shout to divinity to open their ears and aid in bringing about peace
hoping others will join me
for I am just one voice
so I ask the public to join me
Will you join me
the crow asleep in this chapel on a weary Thursday
The Image in My Heart
My specs are in my pocket,
folded for now and safe.
My best…
perfect glasses.
With four eyes,
I can see…
just like a kid, again!
Miracles are real.
I can view the rainbow in the distance,
God’s wonderful promise to All.
I can gaze near as well,
to view and truly see,
your face…
your kind face.
Yet,
every wrinkle, they are missing.
every flaw; they are not there.
I can only see the lines,
and soft touches,
brushes with destiny,
colored by faith.
Time has drawn…
and redrawn every part,
over all the years,
that connect us,
and keep us…
near to each other,
and even closer to Him.
You are truly beautiful to me!