Best Relates Poems
As imperfection fills our lives
perfection, we crave still
I think about just what it means
and how it pains our will
The quest for what does not exist
the drive to make it right
The disappointment that ensues
at how we lose the fight
The chip that flaws my favorite bowl
may bother me and yet
It simply adds to stories past
and one I won’t forget
The ding, the dent, the thread that bares
the soul that loses trust
They still have value in the love
that thrives and so we must
Consider how the chip relates
to life and love and soul
It’s just a piece of what we are
and not what makes us whole
This is a form called a Pensee, but I deviated from the true form. Also, somewhat an example for my contest. I use Isaiah first as it relates to me then how I try to figure out my best trait. Soon we will be married sixty-three years, and I feel that God gave mankind a command to marry, love each other, be faithful, stay together, and have children so I have done that.
Free drinks
Water, wine, milk
Holy Spirit offers them
To a child at small church years past
He loved me as I was
Filled me
Now a clean pot
He saw some promise in me
Though I saw it not, so now search
For my positive trait
Loyal
Sticking, holding
Through good, bad, sickness and health
For sixty-three years stayed, prayed and loved
I obeyed God and man
Before there was a world or a word
there was unfathomable loneliness
in the gaseous expanse of pin pricked night
an infinite course of vibrations, sound
nascent, coalescing, gestating,
until planets ripening birthed with souls.
There was only the orb, the throbbing soul
and an unknown longing for word,
conduits formed synapses gestating
to wavelengths of crystalline loneliness,
the aching white noise, static, lack of sound,
and the wanderers of celestial night.
Man was born to such a daunting midnight
aqueous eyes and conical ears for soul
to shattering din’s discordant sound,
no bird song, no harmony, no words,
just an aging, aching, aloneness,
of random thoughts thus wordless gestating.
A rhythm of circular gestation
formed the day and lingering became night
and thus weakened, warmed the loneliness
with woman kind He brought her soul.
Ether resounded with sheet lightening, words
for those sounds were to souls, the God sound.
Strong, silibant streams of understood sound
released from the oval egg of gestation
songs formed as man combined the God like words
croonings of passion fill the nubile night
as joinings rolled-tidal of mated souls.
Word all powerful had freed loneliness.
Each creature gifted an end to loneliness
earth, water, fire ,wind, all given sound,
all graced beloved with shimmering souls,
hatched from the dragon’s egg, life gestates
into the bountiful passage of night.
Cherish the ever present presence of the Word.
No longer alone, a sound vibrating within
each atom relates to the soul, gestation continues
in the night's never-ending cycle of the Word's life.
*My PASSION is SONG
* Many lines have internal RHYME as well as
the end rhyme achieved by the use of the same words.
*Dedicated to inspiration achieved
through the writings of L'Nass Shango & David Smalling
I am the environmentalist in love with wine,
my shoulders carry and reside in the cutting edge side of life,
the establishment craves to be the human race
while I stroll the memories of “Sailor fields”
amongst ancient Jurassic stone.
Is this! The only way for me?
My saline tears run freely now a days,
it’s time that governs one’s sentiment,
no doubt the plague of waiting relates to this.
What! Of the future,
hey , i want to forget about futuristic wars,
may be the media are in gross error of judgment?
I’m told I’m only a little man, at last now I know why I’m the
one that society chastises every day,
Why this mortal flame in constant combat becomes
life’s tomb stone around my neck.
To feel freedom, another swig so my lacklustre eyes again become stimulated
as the view overcomes my immobility and bids farewell, to the great lady
that glides portly on the outgoing tide.
Curse this elemental wind
that curls in from the east,
“Mother” i cry
“Is this the clarity of our beginning.” the start of all this crap,
as astringent thoughts flow through my urban bucolic mind,
seeing or feeling nothing of the moment, only a repeat of the actions of many insensitive men,
those that flourish, those that sentiment cannot stain those that walk tallest amongst men;
because they were hungry for appurtenance.
I remember well , in the far off lea of my mind,
down on the farm thousands of miles away across the Pacific,
where enamel clashed against concrete
there , where foolhardy dreams were dashed,.
when the heart pursued
the warm flesh , she that gave her
reflection to the swan song
of an innocence.
Alas should one be compelled to expire
as one would, a chardonnay basking in the hot sunshine?
Should one fall foul of a politically correct society
that , outside of one’s comfort zone,
because one feels , want , in choleric veins?
Even the sullen white cross, dotted upon the highways
become burning embers, a constant reminiscence,
an emotional monument to many inhibited memories.
Yet I beg this deportment shows me a realization,
that death is imminent,
so why this perpetual waiting, this constant urge,
for this vein dependency to be infringed upon ???
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Golden Locks
within the minute of retreat your back is tuned to your enemy's chorus
harmonic to your freedom, measured by compassion, anxiously seeking their humanity
thought ascending from stars see's an ounce of mercy surrounded in darkness
a defeated purpose which drove them to the heavens
those who have reserved hope find some place to accept the truth
a test of how far our courage outlast the chaos from all life's passed
mystery's enlightened path never reached the end of suffering
to the likeness of a fumbled method
we could now follow like the atoms of Eve
disconcerted absence to our eutrophic eyes
spreading legs like artificial soul
momentarily creators of their own excitement
movement supported by those who think your great
everybody who realizes the dream
shape your reflection and let the background find it's own feet
Apparent peace soon merged with equality
freedom's lark rests on the soles of a war monger's foot
peace showed up in a fresh pair of socks
the talking corps relates a message conspired by his earthy tones
sighting the great spoils and burnt offers of a desired sin
while designs of old are searched for something missing
past events re-invented an old tool of the government this ambiguous wireless chip
lets us say all of thing they can tax and the rest we make it our garden patch
I'm sorry, You see
To my three beautiful boys
I'm sorry, you see
Mum's not quite been the same lately
But I promise I'm getting better
I owe it to both you and me
To my family and friends
I'm sorry, you see
If I've ignored calls and texts
I know it's only because you care for me
But some days it's been a struggle just to function and think lately
To anyone who relates to this
I'm sorry, you see
But I hope you understand even the strongest struggle sometimes
Be it anyone, even you or me
A polytheist would argue
just one God
That there are endless guards
and many rods
given these wards
With many temperaments and aims
devotion for a supreme being
Compassionate gods spread
charity, clarity’s
light and goodwill
Whereas others spread hate,
blood still spills
Relates—mayhem and darkness
The God of the Old Testament
unforsaken is the nakedness
not ever to turn the other cheek
not even for the meek
He portrays Himself
Jealous and wrathful
vengeful, rageful
Numbskull—beware!
Whilst man plays by the rules
these judges will decide
The winner takes it all
The loser has to fall
No complaints, apologies
Whilst the God of New Testament
demonstrates much mercy,
forgiveness you shall see
For God and his creations
This is what’s in common
in the world religions
This is the core,
the common essence
all shared values
when in His presence
The road is long, painful and circuitous
A troubled past will plague us
dubious religious sects, false replay,
vulnerable man is their prey
Realization from my deepest self I reveal
enamored in love is how I truly feel
I felt with all things,
a strong sense of collectiveness
An emotional rapture
of the combined sacred oneness
One man showed us love
A true love He
displayed,
flogged, died
Crucified for love
of mankind
The Jewel of Jesus
Find a man like Him
and certainly not a moony (woman)
In Ganges River, I shall swim
in blessed holy water
I’ll bathe in
His wine I’ll drink
On my knees I shall sink
Bow down and pray
for Yahwe’s precious Jewel
the One, the Only
Eyes of blue?
Jesus Christ Superstar
“Devoid of decorum and dignity”
Is one of the quotes that I heard.
To know it relates to the POTUS debates
Is as awful as it is absurd.
On one side, a bully whose bluster
Would get him suspended from school;
With no self-control and a hole in his soul,
He’s a pompous, perfidious fool.
On the other side, he who’d replace him
Wants to pacify, help and unite
Yet in making his case, what instead he must face
Is a nasty below-the-belt fight.
In the middle, befuddled and helpless,
Is the person who should be in charge
But when things go off-track, he can’t stop the attack,
Like a substitute teacher writ large.
We watch, feeling sick and despondent,
In shock at how low we have sunk
And that outrage and shame, for which we have no name,
Lingers on in a nightmarish funk.
Soothe the mind with troubles past,
pain and suffering that will not last.
Understanding simple facts,
relates your thoughts to heart attacks.
On the brink of chaos' siege,
this crippling pain drops me to my knees.
Take my soul, but leave my heart.
For its been severed from end to start.
Relieve the pressure from under my wings,
and let my eyes feel nature's breeze.
Slowing time, or timing slow.
Erratic emotions erect and show.
No more hiding beneath the soil,
beyond unsheathing this hellful toil.
Reflectively shown the sun will beam.
Above your sins, He's on your team.
So rise again but do not fall;
allow your fears to dissipate small.
For when this misery has left its home,
there will be life in every bone.
LOVE FLOWERS
Love relates and liberates
Mutual trust procreates,
Enlarging all as it grows;
Love flowers as it flows.
Love's rapport binds and bonds
Affirmed in whispers fond,
And prospers like blossom grows;
Love flowers as it flows.
A pleasured prized and treasured,
Unselfishin it's measure
Requited quid pro quo;
Love flowers as it flows.
We release our hidden grace
As barriers unlace
When each the other knows;
Love flowers as it flows.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
When sunset ushers a sky violet blue
At the first star’s light, my thoughts are of you.
And when I gaze into the moonlit sea;
Lights dancing on water, you are with me.
When a lovely flower bends to the breeze
I picture your face, so eager to please.
As I fly away to a distant land
You dwell in my heart; I’m at your command.
I love your deep voice and things that you say,
And ways you miss me when I am away.
I don’t want to extinguish this fire,
Though it consumes my mind with desire.
I long for the moment we’ll reunite
And I'll share your kisses throughout the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4hsC0nRvZM
Song: Leaving on a Jet Plane
This poem relates to the song perfectly because I was always leaving on a jet plane
as a stewardess for 34 years. I met my husband on one of my flights in December
of 1979. We were married In December 1981 and the most difficult part of our
marriage was me being away 4 days at a time while flying down under to Sydney,
or Auckland, or 3 day trips to Japan. My thoughts were always with my husband and
children.
Eccentricism
Dick has a problem I don’t have.
He is a man.
As that I am female, Dick infringes through ignoring what is right.
He relates to homosexuality whims when I stand as a mist from the Garden of Eden.
Do you know that dick stated a psychological tenet that he was powerful because of *****?
That is when I had to relate because I had presumed that dick was *****.
However, he ventilates that dick is not the same as *****.
In this world, men are going through metamorphosis.
Their psychiatric preference is a man’s best friend.
In this place, women are suppressed.
Their psychological performance is best with a straight man.
Therein, many tendency is to become a lesbian.
This fundamentally means this world is twisted.
So insane that structured is trembling.
Through idiosyncrasies and sexual desires of man, minds are being manipulated.
But never mind all that, I is the person that wins against mammoths.
Insofar as none has, eccentricities are real.
Aerate the ideas of humankind.
Let loose the knowledge of origin since the time of God, if it is known.
Tell no lies.
Propaganda falsehoods until we acknowledge the truth.
This is what we do.
___________________________________________________
Penned on January 22, 2015!
How lovely, isn't
It, to have an 'off' switch, shotty wiring
And all,
And a presence lined up to ****?
They are always there
To cauterize the wounds of emotional castration
Without desire to examine
The blood pattern forensics,
Chalking the splatter up
To an affinity towards Jackson Polluck.
Tears are to the meek
As injury is to the bold,
Chastity is to pureness
As promiscuity is to curiosity.
And what
Supplemented activity relates to the character
Defect of an over-eager search for validation?
How surreal a menagerie constructed from
Syringes full of sunshine.
Currency crusted by blood in place of worth,
Hopeful scribbles of the pale and placid carrying
Small flecks of over packed bags under the eye
Can seem when sunlight filters through rose colored lenses;
How frighteningly apparent
Connect-the-dot freckles and
Spasms of the left cheek and
Teddy bear smiles and
Xylophone ribs and
Bits of skin ghosted from lips become
When refracted by a Narcissus pond—
How I m p o r t a n t,
How appropriate these sentiments:
Perfect companions for the rolled-up-carpet's journey
Of finding permanence along river bottom
Set into the silt and framed with waving algae:
A'voir, piggyback consistencies,
Meet oblivion in shreds
Blown out the back end of the skull
In the instant chapped lip worshiper meets collarbone shrine.
Such ready to leech services are no longer
A necessity
In the four hours of chemically enhanced rawness
Stuffed with bile and bruise and suck and lie
Hollowed of meaning,
Save for the proverbial cholesterol of hope clogged in pores.
But I awake in numbness,
Cold and invalid,
With my head pressed on Doubt's chest
And my fingers knotting in its own
Begging to be warm again.
While flying from Uruguay to America,
I experienced some fearful problems,
Some were real and some nightmares.
I was tossing my handbag left and right
I heard a sermon my mother used to sing
I was quite engrossed for a few minutes
Forgetting all the problems I was worried about.
Hey, my co-traveler said, “your tape is running”
I remembered recording my mother’s voice
I think my mother came as protecting force
Giving an edge over my imaginative problems.
A mother is next to godliness, God personified.
An event of March, 2010 confirms my belief.
An Australian mum brings her premature baby son
Back to life by loving cuddles when chances none.
The doctors battled for twenty minutes gave up
Of saving her lifeless baby boy of 27 weeks.
Doctors gave the child to the mother to say goodbye
The grieving mother cuddled him tightly two hours
Bringing back her son to life, weighing 2 lbs.
Twenty minutes of science, two hours of love.
I bet it is nothing else but divine intervention
+++
September 19, 2014
Form: Free Verse
***Second part of the poem relates to a miracle happened in Australia. Anyone interested to read more, here is the link***
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/search.html?searchPhrase=Miracle+mum+Kate+Ogg
Moon goddess in nocturnal flight,
When Luna’s rise at midnight breaks
One’s deepest breath of awe she takes.
Her wings are formed by silky light.
Silver shards beam through drifting clouds,
Curtains of light in misty shrouds;
Her hair billows radiant bright.
Her face a luminescent glow,
Captive of heaven’s indigo.
She whispers secrets to the night,
Twinkling stars light years away keep
Peaceful solitude in our sleep.
In dream state she relates her might.
Luna keeps vigil over night;
Genders poets compelled to write.
Emotions bared with-in her light;
Her mood through pen is oft’ displayed
In violence or love allayed.
A lovely view, her awesome sight.
Beauty remains beyond compare,
The gift of love she deigns to share.
Moon goddess in nocturnal flight,
Her wings are formed by silky light.
Her hair billows radiant bright.
She whispers secrets to the night,
In dream state she relates her might.
Emotions bared with-in her light;
A lovely view, her awesome sight.
December 18, 2013