Best Remittance Poems


Premium Member Xenophobia- Target the Bird Not the Tree

Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature

Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil 
which results in a war without cause or reason

The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin

Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be

Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?

Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
Categories: remittance, africa, anger, anti bullying,
Form: Epic

The Bug Collector

A half-moon wind caresses naked skin
as a whispered prayer takes flight
Love me well when you dream tonight
Moonlight hosts a symphony opera
with natures orchestral might
Insecta songs they sing , for you
and friends in your care, I in theirs
At these unholy hours
thoughts prove masochistic
Wise counsel naught but acoustic
Un- remittance rends and rips
A lover’s melancholy grips in violent tics
Unpleasant distance will cause regret
For in passions sad neglect
lust and jealousy are bred
Thence in stealth their war is waged
through empty fortresses, razed
where loves light hath fled
but for one last cry distressed
Alas, with deeds time hath cheated
surrendered prayers gone unheeded
Lay thee abed, in privacy to wed
and weep alone instead
for those whom companionship
hath left for dead
As mounted specimens in camphor beds
Insecta songs they sang to deafness
with only a half-moon wind as witness.
Categories: remittance, lost love, prayer,
Form: Rhyme

Can You Forgive Me

Forgive all my attempts
To make you a magician
Coming to you in dozens of time 
Like a musician and an artisan
At times like a comedian.
A true art of chameleon in religion clothing
Approaching you only for assistance
Never making a remittance but
always giving you the remnant
Even on that i failed to ruminate
But act like a ruminant
I used every instrument of the 
mathematician (that on tithe)
Neglecting all your epistles to the 
Corinthians, Ephesians, 
Philippians, Colossians.
Especially, the one to the Thessalonians.
I omitted the acts of the Apostles
I did not take after the act of Joseph of Arimathea.
These portray the true heart of a politician 
and not a Christian. 
Forgiveness is a decision
Forgive and forget Is a household song
How do i deal with the incisions?
To be safe from infections and perversions
That leads to perdition without neglecting my 
friends affection and persuasion 
That is the nub of this notion
Only by your injunctions and inscriptions
It may be by information for reformation
I can make the right corrections
I must reach perfection
O Lord can you still forgive me?
Categories: remittance, faith, forgiveness, religion,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Borrowing Cultures In Full

A self acclaimed professional with incomplete training;
following a system with part-time understanding;
feeding a beast with little knowledge of an approach tactics;
are all shelters where misunderstanding is harboured and trouble, honoured.

Foreign traditions should firstly be digested before adopted,
any culture’s morphology without the remittance of peace and respect
is either faulted with errors towards humanity
or carelessly photocopied using a bad ink.

It is okay to have an ascent
by mere keeping up with the kardashians
or beautifully repaint the glamour of societal fun
by bathing in the Jacuzzi of pop culture.

But when an entire way of life 
such as faith based systems and religions
are admired and happily embraced;
such an adoption should never be done from a distance.
Despite its huge diversity, the world gets smaller everyday
due to similar interests, ideology and advancement in technology.
Even though borrowing cultures has aided this process,
it is still insignificant if humane virtues are altered.
Categories: remittance, art, character, christian, community,
Form: Light Verse

February 12 2006

So young and so in love
       in a marriage from above-
Countless surgeries on my
ovaries,
How much can one woman
             suffer through?
The allure of having a baby 
    was always a dream come true,
yet when I was told I was
infertile, I felt less than my true
value.  
Twenty-three is too young
      to find out a baby is not an 
          option, 
I just couldn’t see in my future 
             the choice of adoption. 

Forgive me for my admittance,
   forgive me for my greed,
I knew I deserved remittance,
   my hopes far away…Godspeed.

Crabby days came with a tummy 
     ache indeed,
crying for no reason,
         for my body did mislead.
A doctor visit approached 
and I was scared I needed
    another procedure-
but how many heart aches
can one woman endure?
               ...I just wasn’t sure-

An ultrasound confirmed
a baby I was to give birth,
right then and there I 
knew my life had...
                         ...hope and worth.
                                   
A dream come true, but still
  felt apprehension to lose this
life,
for it was always my dream to 
      be a mother as well as a wife. 

Thirty-eight weeks later a 
   baby girl in my arms,
my world changed and I’d
        forever protect her from harm.
She just turned eleven yesterday,
as February twelfth two thousand and six 
was my life changing day!
   Gratitude and appreciation for 
   my beautiful creation-
   oh, what an outstanding situation
that changed my life...
                 -in the most positive way. 


February 13, 2017
Categories: remittance, beautiful, birth, blessing, daughter,
Form: Rhyme

In Appreciation...

My words, 
Cannon fodder, 
Rushed 
Into a no man's land, 
Dying china ducks, shot down 
And sprayed into the weeping wind; 
Redundant, no meaning in the face 
Of all your caring deeds and grace. 

In all 
This creation, 
How 
Did I survive intact 
If not for your sweet mercy? 
The culture of a loving creed; 
Unconditional, supported by your ministry, 
By all the kindness given me. 

No gift, 
Material thing, 
Would 
Settle such a debt, 
Incurred upon my lonely soul, 
Such debit I am proud to own; 
Remittance, I could never pay 
From now until my dying day. 

These words, 
Inadequate, 
Written 
By some ghosted pen, 
Are all I have to give to you, 
Mere ink and paper sentiment; 
In truth, a lowly platitude 
Of my eternal gratitude...
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: remittance, life, love, on writing
Form: Verse


Stop Slithering

Spare me the sentiment,
You race-baiting charlatan,
Your "charity" reeks of contempt,
And your action for so-called "social justice" is mired in incompetence,
But upon this ID I issue a remittance,
For to me, being called white is a compliment,
A man above petty grievances and privilege puritans,
In my heritage I find contentment,
Knowing that I will never receive special treatment,
Only the disdain of the media gargantuans,
And the incessant complaints of the historically inept,
I revile your inferiority complex's persistence,
To perpetually enslave people in anti-American malevolence,
Why not exist the welfare womb and cut the cord,
For the world is not your enemy,
And if you truly wish to banish the monster under your bed,
Carry our flag proudly as a productive member of society.
Categories: remittance, america, society,
Form: Rhyme

Tick-Tock Winters Coming

Tick-tock winter's coming


Thrust from the sanctuary of the blessed womb
spring is sprung on a new destiny not without charm
from cradle to crawl, to walking and talking and nurtured by the soul that bore
education, kindred spirits to find and affection in gay abundance
tick-tock winters coming

The time for fun and to enjoy the harvest of spring
summer has come to rejoice and select life in all that has gone
maybe perhaps you will new destiny's create and nurture
or just be content to enjoy the halcyon days and clear horizons that present
tick-tock winters coming 

The time to reflect with darkening sky's what has been, and yet to show
autumn full of the burden of misspent or just summer follies
a chance to look on with wonder at destiny's created or woe's for those destroyed
the abundance that spring gave summer all but gone to pastures new
tick-tock winters coming

The stormy turbulence and darkness that must come
winter is a callous foe that no quarter yields to its destiny
for no-one single destiny has any idea how long its spring, summer, autumn will endure
this wicked foe gives occasional hope with remittance to summers past
and then just as quick reminds you where to go by stripping dignity again
some winters are short yet others proceed within its wicked clasp
until your hopes, dreams, and fears are passed on to some other hopeful destiny to cling
tick-tock tick-tock tick


MB 2013
Categories: remittance, journey, life,
Form:

Augustinian Chronicle: Youthful Indiscretion

Loitering in the lair of incontinence without askance
Chaufeured by alter ego looking for any appealing circumstance
Besieged by an uncontrollable libido that craves a licentious remonstrance
Bridled by an insecure complex that insists on a meaningless dalliance
Bethrothed a licentious title by my consort's malfeasance
Bartering for a brokered, fatuous, amorous romance
Initiating a coarse, trite parlance
Scoring a lusty, lively, lurid dance
Surrendering to the leveraged buy out with due penance
Shearing, shackled inhibitions for a night of undocumented remittance


Shackled by a conscience that bears the reproach of my debauched demonstrance
Shielded from the mediating law of recompence by my willful ignorance
Surrounded by the guilt of my insatiable intemperance
Struggling to find the source of my carnal provenance 
Sheltered by a boorish pride that stifles availing repentance
Separated from a mitigating mercy by a lingering recalcitrance
Sequestered from a graceful respite because of my strident indifference
Shamelessing skirting sanctifying succor through my froward inconstance
Stubbornly languishing in the throes of an indomitable, fleshly resistance
Shaking as I continuously ponder the deeds of my immoral exuberance 
Spontaneously trembling as my jaded psche haunts with an eternal vigilance
Categories: remittance, introspection
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Learned Lessons

When in time of memories past
we connect to simple thoughts
pouring to the surface of loves
sweet embrace.

Lessons learned are never in vain
when it comes down to aligned
effortless desires.

Belief has no boundaries when
we reach out for answers that
flow without a thought.

The silent portrait shows harmony
untouched when we believe that
all satisfactions are uncountable
when living has no timelines.

Admiration fuses equally with
tender understanding, knowledgeable
reasoning high above our knowing.

Simplified expectations adorn with
acceptance, collect intellectual material
 making life complete.

In the remittance of awkwardness we
except what has to be excepted, passing
on the bloodlines of another generation
to a different intelligent being of deeper
understanding welded  in one, flowing
freely inward.

Collective knowledge penetrates together
in the mind seducing energy to the fullest
ability to focus above understanding.

Being one with the universe portrays an image
of love, power, peace, and harmony throughout
the world forged to be completely understood
without mystery.

Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved)
Categories: remittance, inspirational,
Form: Free verse

My Soul Is Held a Prisoner of a Melody

Notes course through my veins
Nourishing me by song
Feeding the rhythm straight to my heart 
Beating so strong
Harmony washing over, drenching each pore
Showering percussion 
Bass knocking at the door
Lyrics to soothe my sadness, to calm my fears 
Words to lift my spirit, 
Music is my ecstasy, rapture to my ears 
Sweet medication, I gladly pitch my remittance
For music is my being, my soul 
Critical to my existence.
Categories: remittance, life, love, music
Form:

Just One Word

Giving receiving  												         Remittance of sin  											                       Affectionate power 												                 Caring always        												                Emanuel
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: remittance, faith, forgiveness, happiness, life,
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member I Knew

I Knew
David J Walker

I
I knew a priest
Who blessed the best and 
worst of us 
Saying
Go in Peace 
But leave your burdens here

II
I knew a man who bore 
His chest 
And cursed the heavy verse
That tore his breast 
And left him overcome 
With fear 

III
I knew the sound of
Distant thunder
And feigned the smell 
Of distant rain
In dry wonder 
And long-deserted days


IV
I knew the phrase of 
Remittance 
The key to every golden door
And who so swore would 
Join the banquet 
And thirst no more for
Wine from the golden goblet 

V
I knew a woman who 
Foretold the fortunes
Of worried patrons 
Who burned their aprons
And locked their doors
Vowing this time no more

VI
I knew the tales of 
Reconciliation   
Leaving the burdens 
On the steps for the
Priests to sweep away 
In the mornings after 

VII
I knew life when
The sun was burning 
Hot
In the midst of a
Lush garden
Categories: remittance, allegory,
Form: Rhyme

Its Over Now

Not remorse, but something similar
Regret? No, but feels pretty close
Time to get going, the morning smells burnt

Let the air press down upon this feeling
The voice being hindered, remittance for the soul
Time to get going, the day feels like its dragging 

Thinking about the last time sadness was felt
Trying to remember but nothing comes to mind
Time to get going, the afternoon looks to be a bore

A fleeting wind carries all lost memories down stream
Blind rage takes hold and follows along
Time to get going, the evening sounds chaotic

Been dragging along this empty feeling for some time now
One step closer to being left out in the cold, alone, abandoned 
Time to get going, the night tastes bitter
Categories: remittance, confusion, loss, love, sad,
Form: Free verse

Mister Money Bags No More

Mister money bags no more

Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
dirty deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."

I still bitterly lament how
the computer/scammer
who called himself "Harvey Specter"
exhibited exceptional faux zeal
and blame myself,
whereby figurative cog and wheel
within sixty plus shades
housing mine gray matter
did not properly turn
ordinarily (when perspicacity,
sensitivity, and acuity optimally function)

setting off an ear splitting squeal
loud enough to rouse
a sleeping Leviathan
when upon awakening would bellow
now cue the giant
from Jack and the beanstalk
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood
of an Englishman:
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.

Nevertheless significant loss
viz medium of exchange
(enriching the coffers of another -
particularly him that scoundrel
née fraudster foisting financial fiasco
frazzling father most definitely nonideal
modus operandi I envisioned,
hence the gofundme page
(ofttimes sited with 
gentility, honesty, integrity...
when crafting previous poems),
yet passage of time did not heal

severe financial hemorrhage,
keeping checking and savings accounts
analogously under critical care
(think intensive care),
whereby heroic measures undertaken
wads of cold cash linkedin 
to many intravenous tubes
but ideally capitol offense
aired once again toward remuneration
imposed upon ganef

who bled me dry
courtesy convincingly, glibly, liberally... 
sweet talking his way,
and I swallowed hook, line and sinker
(fabrication that Citizens bank employees
scheming to siphon investments)
yielded zilch (the big goose egg),
absolute zero positive result,
i.e. even partial remittance of lost monies,
when yours truly did make an appeal.
Categories: remittance, abuse, america, anger, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
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