Best Reformer Poems
Written: February 5th, 2024
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My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating,
the flower that has yet to bloom.
My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.
My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people,
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.
My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets,
for the eminent aims of foes,
cultures will spread,
as history has predicted.
My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?
My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive,
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer,
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before.
the light within will always guide you;
all you must do is listen and follow.
Four walls.
Barricades.. built out of strong brick, but flimsy cement -
Strong force, but weak purpose.
It was ironic, she thought.
Society had set up four confining walls,
and yet was an unlocked door just there.. mocking,
beckoning those with the nerve to throw it open.
She was sure of it.
It angered her, these biased convictions.
She wasn't let to school. No work. No freedom.
And why? Why not, rather.
Simply because she was a 'she'.
But she would show them, she notioned.
She would show the world the suppressed would rise,
and break through the boundaries preset for them.
She would show them the women of the world could revolutionize it.
She would tell them,
and she wouldn't stop till her voice resounded beyond the four walls of the world...
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Dedicated to every woman reformer!
Holding her head high
with a resolute look;
possessing dauntless courage and wisdom,
She never feels subservient.
The emerging modern woman
fabricates her own traits,
by obliterating the customs
of engulfing in murk named ignorance;
and suppresses the routine
of living a melancholic life.
******
This is the translation of a verse from Mahakavi Bharathiyar's poem "MODERN WOMAN". He envisaged Modern Woman as a leader, law maker, savior and an independent person. Women were treated as domestic slaves in ancient India and his writings kindled women empowerment and gender equality. Remembering him on his death anniversary(Sep -11)
The original poem was written by Bharathiyar, one of the greatest Indian poets.It was written in Tamil. I am an ardent fan of him. He died so young(39).
He was fluent in many languages including Bengali, Hindi, Sanskrit, Kuuch, French and English.
Wikipedia:
Subramania Bharati (11 December 1882–11 September 1921) was an Indian writer, poet and journalist, and Indian independence activist and social reformer from Tamil Nadu. Popularly known as "Mahakavi Bharati", he was a pioneer of modern Tamil poetry and is considered one of the greatest Tamil literary figures of all time. His numerous works were fiery songs kindling patriotism and nationalism during the Indian Independence movement.
I crave a piece of land,
Oh! Parasakthi!
I crave a piece of land...
Amidst the piece of land,
build me a palace grand
with sundecks and picturesque pillars;
everything in pristine colors.
And near the well,
the long pinnate leaves
and the tender coconut dwell.
Around ten to twelve coconut trees should be near;
the moonlight should glow like the pearl luster;
songs of the Asian koels, I should hear,
and when my soul relishes, should embrace, breeze cluster.
To blend the songs,
I need my virtuous wife beside,
and our rejoicement jolly along,
the poetic verses pride.
In the midst of this land,
Oh my dear divine mother,be a guard.
With my poetic adroitness,
I should take care of this world.
* Parasakthi- Almighty / Goddess
This is the translation of Mahakavi Bharathiyar's tamil poem,' kaani nilam' - 'A piece of land'
I am an ardent fan of Bharathiyar. He died so young(39) .He was fluent in many languages including Bengali, Hindi, Sanskrit, French and English and frequently translated works from other languages into Tamil. It is immensely tough to translate someone like him. I hope I did atleast a little bit of justice
Wikipedia:
Subramania Bharati (11 December 1882–12 September 1921) was an Indian writer, poet and journalist, and Indian independence activist and social reformer from Tamil Nadu. Popularly known as "Mahakavi Bharati", he was a pioneer of modern Tamil poetry and is considered one of the greatest Tamil literary figures of all time. His numerous works were fiery songs kindling patriotism and nationalism during the Indian Independence movement.
"The Greatest American Ever Born"
by: Eric L. Boddie
Usually, throughout the history of all things
The strongest of all is the one they call king
The greatest would be the one who would let Freedom ring
That's the idea of America, how long did it take you to join the team
Paul Revere rode for it, history says people could hear him scream
Since Washington is the champ, he gets the first green
We all know someone like Jefferson, he smiles in your face, you know that scheme
And everybody Loves Benjamin, turn something on and see what I mean
"All men are created equal" by the hypocrites is the song they sing
Then history says Lincoln Freed the slaves followed by decades of lynchings
But credit Grant with 50, his victory is supreme
And then enter the Great Depression with the New Deal Roosevelt brings
And Kennedy wanted Peace but learned the truth about how bullets sting
And Malcolm said color shouldn't keep a man from defending
And now we've got Obama, Martin's progress trending
Slowly swaying from the drama, the needed end to social lean
Where we can all reach the place where True Love is redeemed
And the one who achieves that will be the greatest, it seems
And the only one I've seen is the one who had a dream
That's why if Martin Luther were alive, he would have been proud to call Michael "King"
note: Martin Luther King, Jr. was actually named Michael Luther King, Jr. at birth, and his father changed both of their names in honor of the great protestant reformer, Martin Luther.
John Calvin one I greatly admire
a man God set apart in His will
turning His mind and heart
and by His spirit full He did fill
This man once obedient to Rome
now transformed by Christ His king
for he was indeed God's man
purposing glory for God to bring
Although born a French man
he was to be Geneva's own son
reforming the Swiss capital by God's truth
the reformation really had begun
To be this man would be great
spreading forth God's gospel sound
impacting Europe for many centuries
but able to stay humbly heaven bound
To live and stay among such beauty
Switzerland is my favourite land
would feel so privileged and honoured
if God had made this His will to stand
AUTHOR NOTES:I am content to be who I am but if I could have been anyone
else in history it would be the great Geneva reformer John Calvin (1509-1564),
so thought I would write some thoughts on this hero of the faith.
But I walk along.
Forte to my cause.
A fort of strength…
Militarily built -
Therefore, must be militarily defeated.
Many say I am a buyout -
Too much intelligence to decipher.
No lack of esteem that can be embraced maybe a confrontation to face.
Personification of knowledge is an individual’s acumen ginned.
Gen by a rite of passage to quest for greater things.
Malachia is her name.
Anyone that desires the sanity of righteousness is a reformer.
A trial and purpose they have formed.
Strong suited to develop structure.
Strong points are shared prolifically.
A talent acquisitionist carries the scrolls.
A role player and leader at the podium.
Mississippi born and a Mississippian raised…
Acumen gins - informed by knowledge nowadays.
But I walk along.
Forte to the cause.
A fort of strength growing stronger!
Military built –
Thus, never militarily defeated.
Only a buyout prevails –
Cipher cannot be unconcealed or revealed.
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Written April 1, 2016!
Pride is a motivator, a stimulator of scarlet soul
an accelerator to the next glorious goal
generator of newcoming awakening
cultivator out cunning the unkind
cutting away all the doubts and flouts, leaving the babel and rabble behind,
a slayer of beasts and witches,
pulverizer of all that threatens my wishes,
Pride is an educator, a teacher whom need not flatter
or conspire to push passion higher,
a preacher promisin that you can be better than you thought you were,
transformer from the mediocre to a raw reformer
makin my heart the perfect love performer
romanticizer of the love battles that my Lady and I thunder
reinforcer of our durable dreams, encourager for our beautiful hunger,
Pride has weather, moving me to smile at the wind and bear the barbs of error,
an innovator of my instincts, reflector of bleeding color
It compells me to be a competitor, a finisher, and a star runner,
my blessings won't bow to humble hoaxes
my talent cannot tolerate the tamming of tragedies
my courage will not cower with the false virtue of humble hypnotism
ain't no way a honkeytonk humbler gonna wear away my sway,
my faith will not stumble upon the stones of humble wastelands,
I wasn't born to walk with humble eyes,
I'm alive to thrive with a sacred strive,
in pride I hear the voice of my Creator say, be great or die!
J.A.B.
Florence Nightingale,
born on 12th may ,
was a British social reformer,
a statistician by day .
She was a nurse
who had a magic touch;
helped all the men around her
would never make a fuss .
She was called the lady,
the lady with the lamp
who'd come and provide aid
all throughout the camp.
Out of all the nurses,
she was one of the best
earning herself a royal red cross
she was surely better than the rest.
even though it's been
years since her passing
her impact in the world
feels everlastin
Ethereal Ascendant Sacred Transcendent Emmanuel Redeemer
Emissary Afflicted Submitted Triumphant Evangel Reformer
Exemplum Agonist Servant Teacher Emancipator Restorer
Epiphany Adored Slain Theonomy Efficacious Resurrectionist
Everlasting Altruist Sanctifier Transmigrate Expurgator Reconciler
Eternal Almighty Supreme Triumphant Eminent Risen!
Some people
Quest for the daily food,
prattle on about the trivial stories,
Languish in agony and loose spirits,
Execute deeds that hurt others,
Grow senile with grey hairs(without goals)
become prey to cruel death
Did you think I too would fall like these risible people?
This is the translation of Mahakavi Bharathiyar's poem"Did you think I would fall".The original poem was written by Bharathiyar,one of the greatest Indian poets.It was written in Tamil.It is immensely tough to translate someone like him.I hope I did atleast a little bit of justice.
I am an ardent fan of Bharathiyar. He died so young(39) .He was fluent in many languages including Bengali, Hindi, Sanskrit, Kuuch, and English and frequently translated works from other languages into Tamil.
Wikipedia:
Subramania Bharati (11 December 1882–12 September 1921) was an Indian writer, poet and journalist, and Indian independence activist and social reformer from Tamil Nadu. Popularly known as "Mahakavi Bharati", he was a pioneer of modern Tamil poetry and is considered one of the greatest Tamil literary figures of all time. His numerous works were fiery songs kindling patriotism and nationalism during the Indian Independence movement.
I break everything I touch;
At first seemingly simple-
But soon too much,
For my games are so nimble.
My feelings out of reach-
always too far to touch.
And not made known through speech;
I am an observer-
I keep my distance;
I am not a conformer-
And at times lack resistance.
I speak my words carefully,
I am a reformer-
And I shall go about it tastefully,
Though always be straightforward.
If you paid slight attention,
You'd notice need for a contravention;
Morality has gone astray-
Long Lost in comprehension;
I hold true to mine today.
Why when we speak do we do so
condescendingly-
Instead of understandingly?
It's honestly trifling.
Although to late for prevention-
If nothing else, help ease the tension;
Perhaps we could find ourselves some
redemption.
For not only what we speak-
But also what we fail to mention.
Any Poetess knows her writing style.
She knows her swagger.
Her arrogance is in her words.
She struts even when she is not being vulgar.
She is a Poetry Diva.
Visionary
A Dreamer
True Reformer
Excellent
Diva of Poetry
Her mind is preoccupied to her theme.
She is topical in her poetry scheme.
She mesmerizes her vocabulary.
She is a Foreign Indian's Fairy.
A Poetry Diva's libretti conjure.
Unique
First-class
Idyllic Rhymester
A Wordsmith of Poetry
Bard – A Diva
Many times, she deciphers.
More than often, she’ll depict.
It would be her expression she lives within.
She is refined.
Within veracity, a Poetry Diva speaks her mind.
Versifier
Set your soul afire
Awaken your spirit into night
Lyricist
Diva Poetess
Ill-mannered she is not.
She does not write half-cocked.
She can be so male gaited.
Golden is her unique way.
A Poetry Diva is a platformer.
Wonderful
Magnificent
Ideal Utopian
Such a romantic lover,
Poetry Diva is enamored!
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Penned April 24, 2014!
For Kelly Deschler Contest Poems About Poetry
2nd Place
VI
Deeds
Patrick traveled lightly,
He carried but his needed load
And made himself as useful
As he could along the road.
He aided all who asked him,
Offering a hand where'er he went
And they, pagan or not, knew in his form
A blessing had been sent.
He made it, at last, to Ireland
And saw that he was needed there,
For, by the tribal rulers,
Hope in life had been made bare;
In his Creator's will for him,
Patrick was most sure--
That in his steadfast faith in God
Would lay any problem's cure.
Patrick was a foreigner,
He had no wordly protection
As he wandered through the Counties,
Which were then tribal sections.
Gifts and money, Patrick refused,
For conversion God did send
Him among the tribes and chieftains,
this rarely made a friend.
(Patrick never knew
That by the Druids long before
A vision had been prophesied,
A piece of their fathers' lore
About a harsh reformer,
From whose table would fly impiety
And those, who chose to follow him,
In blindness would agree.)
Patrick preached the gospel,
Forgiveness and mercy
And taught the Irish people
Of the soul lasting eternity,
Though some would not hear or objected,
Some could not resist-
There were so many converts
With no need to insist.
The people told that Patrick
Truly loved to teach
And time flew from his awareness
When he started to preach,
(He carried a gnarled staff of Ash
Where ever he went)
One night he preached so long,
The stick, roots into the ground, had sent!
Once Patrick lit a fire
Upon Slane hill in County Meath.
Billows of smoke filled the air
And rose above the heath,
He did this in defiance
Of Leoghary, who was king
And through Patricks brave resistance,
Christ's teachings, through, did ring:
Many pagans hauled up buckets,
The whole hillside they drenched,
But Patrick's Paschal fire
But by him could be quenched.
It was upon this hillside
Patrick dispelled pagan divinity
By plucking the trefoil shamrock
To illustrate the Trinity.
Patronize me not because your feet ride in new heels
In a flurry of moves to prop the ego
That in a hurry kills
Dreams and creams in streams of unwise steps you and I can forgo
To pave the way clear
For you and I to step up gears
In thoughts and plans you and I hold dear
Despite uncried tears and unseen fears
You and I can do without
To grow a little warmer
Snipping frills, nipping in the bud any lingering doubt
About the role of a reformer
Who when the going gets rough
In real time or at a later stage
Claims you and I don’t possess the stuff
To engage and manage intricate matters when on the verge
Of putting the icing on our cake
Knees collapse as you and I lapse
Into making the most elementary mistake
That perhaps
Sets us back months of careful diplomacy
In our march forward towards the consolidation of the relationship we treasure
When unalloyed gynocracy
Sails, nails, wails and mails nonsense beyond measure
Ensconced in manifestations of self adulation
In whose sludge you and I indulge
To promote moves whose undulation, moderation and modulation
Multiply errors to ensure our collective failures bulge.