Best Remotest Poems
Dark thoughts emerging from a lifeless spirit,
a wandering ship sinking into the remotest depths;
denying itself reality and its sense of comfort...
and was ever there a lighthouse to disperse its darkness?
A captain stirring his erring ship,amid furious waves,
for an imminent and fierce war,
not noticing the making of its destiny...
fighting unnecessary battles of ambiguity,
hoping that luck would bring it safely ashore;
even a small island was hidden from his gaze!
An unwise listener would not take advice from anybody,
he didn't reject it embracing his own vulnerability;
a good decision that didn't imply a cost...
would he ever been discouraged or lost?
For uncountable years, this eager sea-man,
resisted and spoiled many pleasures for victory...
freezing time to avoid another tragedy
with a perception so sharp to defy anyone's will!
And did he deserve the harshest judgment
from others, who were pleased with their fate?
Loneliness was chosen by him
for unequivocal reasons and he craved it
like the bitterest, strongest wine
to make him strong and invincible...
nothing swayed him from his pride
to obtain that impossible goal!
A
question
that
never
slumbers
to the end
of hour,
is love exchanging views with
that of why. For both are
never ending, and never
ending are the pupils standing
seamlessly upon an exampled
tulip celebrated and cherished
known to man as female. A
female of whom among us
constitutes as God’s monumental
gift. Oh how thy sleep soundly
in the midst of her pedestals,
breathing in oxygen as
dehydration metamorphose
to liquid tears and unrehearsed
palpitation waltzes about thy
heart. Not even in the remotest
degree that today is of yesterday.
For whom to have known that two
visitors would
long to be
lovers of
love to
the extent
now
being
in
love.
Pace INK-U-SCRIPT
03-06-2013
Note: A translation of Tagore's Geetanjali song 12. Influence came from a music of Olafur Arnalds.
Geetanjali song 12: Translation
Tamanna Ferdous
My journey started in an ancient time
The quest along a longest route,
When I first began the journey
My chariot along the voyage for the first light.
Planets and Stars carved a meandering trail
As my journey shaped its own time
Shaped the quest for time in the eternity
Within the forests and the mountains.
To be within love of all, ever flowing
With the remotest seclusion
Is the hardest meditation of all
With the simplest contemplation.
The traveler wanders through the doors in unknown
and returns to the very own land
The voyage of unknown merges
With the temple of the innermost mind.
Here are you! This very word
had to do a say in me
Where I gazed in every way
And along every way to be.
It filled my world in a million flows
You are! And they exclaimed,
Where are you? As, the cry
then , melted into teardrops in pain.
Journey' End
Seeing Franklin in the Music City I realised it is my journey's end
If the goddess of wealth would rain money and generosities
I would live in Franklin with my three daughter's families
One is already living there, moving in with two more would be easier
A place has value only because of people residing there
I would buy my own cottage with a flowery arbour
With three other cottages around for our utopia
Near Jackson Lake with ducks gliding for my grandchildren to enjoy
A country that gives way to an ambulance and won't let you die
Even in the remotest place is a country that cares for your life
The roads are broad and smooth where your bones don't rattle with bumps
Windows are without wire meshes and nature is crystal clear
Can see the beauty with the naked eye without obstruction
Clean grocery from round the globe sans cheating
Friendly faces eager to help, soothing to the heart and eye
Walking down the arcades a wave, a greeting and a smile
Being moneyed I would charter an inflow of loved ones to my utopia
The mesmerising autumn colours made me want life to just stop
The freshness in the air is all so energetic and rejuvenating
The week end trekking trails, yachting and exploring
New experiences experimenting to enliven life in all its spheres
All these add-ons make life worth living, more value
In my next life I wish to be born here with happiness abounding
I'm sure god listens to the hearts ticking away their time!
SECOND
Balveen Cheema
October 27, 2015
Contest: If You Had The Money Where Would You Like To Live And Why?
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
* This poem is specially written for my daughter who lives there as an expression of my love to be with her always.
Oh, my fallen maple, oh, my frozen maple,
Why you stand in blizzard bending and unstable?
Did you see somebody, did you hear there something?
As if you left the village I beheld your passing.
As a drunken watchman you have stepped on path, you
drowned in snow, you froze foot having very strange view.
Ah, and now I myself have become unstable,
a friendly booze is over, I can't walk, disable.
There I met a willow, here the pine I noticed
singing song in blizzard about summer remotest.
And it seemed to me that I am this one maple,
But I am not fallen I am green and able.
Being not so modest, almost losing reason
I hugged birch as a strange wife in this winter season.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Sergey Yesening.
Sandy nations of Arabia
bushes of Tropical Congo
rocky lands of Afghanistan
the dry soils of Somalia
waters of the Mediterranean
bush land of Karamoja*
forestland of Colombia
ragged dress of ozone layer
swampland of South Sudan
homeland of Aborigines
All dance to rhythm of same music
tragedy of intelligent man!
*Karamoja is the remotest
part of Uganda where the people called
Karamojong depend on cattle and nature!
Many die of hunger in a nation of plenty!
Life is worthless
I am valueless
Everyone despises me
He said....
He got a rope
Around his neck it went
Then unto the tree
In the remotest part
Of the jungle...
His lifeless body was found
By passersby
Who stumbled upon it
On their weary way
From their farms...
Such is the tale
The world over.
Old
Young
Men
Women
Boys
Girls
All commit it
The greatest of crimes
Against oneself...
Suicide....
Why will I
Want to kill myself?
Maybe...
I am poor
My boyfriend jilted me
My bank is after me
I am in a deep mess
My self esteem is lost....
All and all and all...
Is why they go for it...
Whatever you face
Wherever it hits you
Whenever it comes...
Suicide is never an option...
The bedbug told her kids
Whatever is hot
Must become cold
It's a tide...
It will wash off...
Suicide...
The greatest crime
Of all time....
I accidentally let one loose
one you hope no one had noticed
so guilty, face like a red spruce
acting like I hadn't the remotest,
It was lethal, Silent and deadly
people retching, gasping for breath
I don't think they'll easily forgive me
well their relatives for causing their deaths,
imagine an elevator full of corpses
Only I survived, suspected of foul play
questioning me about unnatural causes
trying to explain what happened today,
Gained information from specific sources
they said I was a professional assassin
trained by some foreign special forces
all because I couldn't keep my gas in.
7/10/2018
Things are quiet when I’m so far away,
No one can hear what I say,
And the sun sets in blue along the horizon,
By the end of each glorious day,
On this little red planet made of iron and dust,
This planet I now call my home,
This quiet bare land where no man has been,
Just me here living alone,
With my batteries for life, solar panels for food,
I wander around oh so slow,
I’ve learnt how to live on this uninhabited land,
And my mind it’s learning to grow,
So I wrote my own book about my beautiful life,
Being sent here down from the stars,
How I set everything up on this remotest of places,
I’m the robot called Adam on Mars.
A simple life is good enough:
There is much peaceful beauty
In modesty, once man can laugh
At trouble born of duty.
Full long ago a pilgrim was
Condemned to endless sailing,
But then he learnt the end and cause
Of all his bitter wailing.
He turned to search for rest and grace
Far off from his old heading,
And found his peace in a calm place
Whence endless waves were spreading.
He thought of sharing with all men
The story of his travel,
But found that what befits the pen
Can shatter and unravel
The riddles he had chanced to solve
Throughout his quest and yearning,
And that mere words could not dissolve
Thick layers deep with learning.
He stood upon a cliff and wept
To know he lacked the power
To free the knowledge he had kept
In life’s remotest tower.
Alike, though there are old men who
Have solved the heart’s great riddle,
Their strength to speak may vanish too
Once fear begins to middle.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
I got up very early breathing in scented air,
beholding the beams of light that came from far;
and looking outside pure joy built up inside;
all is awakening: He always keeps His promise!
How comforting is to have freedom without anxieties
and imitate fearless eagles that spreads their wings;
will I seek adventures never imagines, written or told?
Will I go to the remotest places nobody ever explored?
Earth is a wonder with its majestic mountains and waterfalls;
beautiful are the lush meadows with marigold and sparrows!
Finally, my thirst will be quenched at the nearest bubbling brook,
and the ravens that have traveled far will share my water and croak!
Who needs more rest a farmer, a traveler with sheer interest?
or a novice poet that hasn't found a muse to inspire his verses?
What is taken more to heart happy kids or those with sunken eyes?
After a tiresome journey, we get nostalgic and we come home to rest!
"I live in Spain for my sins," she said
I thought. "Where do you go to be good?”
And ,”Yes I will probably mess with your head.”
Well frankly that is understood.
We met in a bar on the Algarve
Her body was really superb
I contemplated telling her just for a laugh
But I suddenly lost all my nerve
She sat at the table adjacent
To mine in the bar on the beach
I thought, “Well if I am just patient,
She might not be far out of reach.”
Then, having decided that maybe,
With luck, that we could be a pair
I proceeded to give her my best chat-up line
Whilst running my hand through her hair
It was just about then that I noticed,
‘Cause my peripheral vision is good,
The chance must have been the remotest
That beside me her boyfriend now stood
“I live in Spain for my sins,” she said
I should have gone out of the door
For now, there are several bumps on my head
As I lie here, supine, on the floor
(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)
They all heard that,
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days.
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation.
I was counting those quarters. One by one.
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store...
When silence honors every single voice out there
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper.
And slowly,
I sustained.
I was tamed within
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes.
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper.
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand?
A specially biased right hand?
There are need of mirrors, here and there.
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too...
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.
Bayezid Bostami-
A caring soul , a devoted one, for his mom,
since he was a child,
On a moonlit night, at midnight , mom woke up
and called, “O My son!
For my thirst unquenched, have thy grace to save me, your holy thee!” She said,
Before she relapsed , in a deep sleep ,
eyes closed
The young soul gazed around the room,
a room, where, only to be found a pitcher, empty, and barren,
An intrepid one, he, determined to be, a heroic effort,
to fetch water from the remotest fountain, alone
If you really want someone to love you
You should set aside making them happy
And just focus on why you love them.
We’re all flawed, I am certain you know too,
For when feeling unloved we feel crappy
Though our egos might shine at the gym!
Hard enough to believe that she values
Things inside that you doubt people notice
For self-doubt is where most of us live.
Though her love might look real, doubt continues,
The intransigent fear of a lotus,
Holding beauty is not much to give.
So don’t think you’re to blame if rejected
Even God has to struggle with this one
It’s just part of the dance we go through.
Groucho Marx to all friendships objected
Never sought any club’s satisfaction
So sure devil had staked out his due.
Simply tell me you love what you’re seeing
And you hope that I also have noticed
Some traits charming enough to be fair.
I don’t care if we’re ever agreeing,
Or if you will be true the remotest,
Please just drag me back home to your lair.
Long Tooth
June 2, 2016