Best Reproaches Poems
Walk with me, my child, before you grow
Hear of the world I’d like you to know
A unified Earth without country divisions
One without governments to make decisions
A world where people are not judged by race
Color neutral, can you imagine this place?
Freedom to worship as each one pleases
No hate-based reproaches, just loving breezes
All would have food, shelter and joy
Care would be given to each girl and boy
Mother Nature would smile upon us all
No earthquakes, tsunamis or mudslide falls
Art would be revered and beauty bestowed
Never again would war sounds explode
Now tell me, dear child, do you share my dream
For you hold the power to build a new team
Our youth may set our tomorrow in motion
Precepts like these need not only be notions
CITADEL AND CONSTELLATIONS
The green leaves in rugged moans;
The tall bushes in rumbling groans;
The roofs train creaks-- their fugue
blow cobwebs hugging branches below,
such are precursors inviting darkness lair
for stormy clouds before crowd the days.
Yellow horizon seem unreachable honey
as in my life's ocean, balloon billows I bear.
I-- surged in every swell to skirt yet still
lashing waves dashed pushing me sometimes to despair.
Again, cataclysm walk unheralded casting loose
my arms lift upon the glimmer of silver lining from afar
somber shadows enshrouded me in a mist of struggles.
Ounce of strength I have, I try to juggle and juggle
yet, curses fell from hearts and lips parched of love.
All these came, one and all --
the flowing light has flickered flash and gone
but beyond all these you stood -- my sentinel...
You hushed the bad constellations hanging 'round my world
like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship to his home.
Yes! You are my beacon, a promontory amidst
cyclic onslaught brambles and chameleons,
a rock to cling in the wind's creeping fury,
Staunch and firm, my ñhero fighting the torrential
cascade of tirades and reproaches: MY CITADEL. . .
_____________________________________________________________________
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Your Favourite Old Poem #2
++Placed 2nd++
***Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name How You Make The Stars Hush
++Placed2nd++
©O.E. Guillermo
06:37 pm, February 24, 2015
Flash floods forecast hurrying steps and wheels ahead of foreboding clouds pregnant as eyelids welling with tears of baptismal rain to cleanse earth's skirt of its mire of blood and dust of blinding confusion with thunder of reproaches and flash of lightning clarity. I had been standing, switching gaze from red eye turning yellow to the traffic slowly rolling in one lane, in the next
a car came speeding forward unaware of the pedestrian, head down, hurrying into its path. In an instant making eternity: Rainbow splendor!
slow car swerving right
blocks car missing collision
saving the man's life
May 24 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Nehemiah 4-7
Key Verse – Nehemiah 4:9 Nevertheless we made our prayer unto our God, and set a watch against them day and night, because of them.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO ANSWERS OUR PRAYERS
MADE UNTO HIM
Praise be to God for answering our prayers made unto Him for our:
Cause clinging to His covenant
Call cleaving to His commandments
Concerns carved with our commitment
Clamor correcting us against carnal cravings
Cry for His consoling comfort and commendation
Nehemiah 5:9 Praise be to the Lord for His admonition that
we walk in the fear of God midst:
Evil restraints
Exerted restrictions
Enemies’ reproaches
Efforts resulting in reprimand
Exhortations reminding repentance
Nehemiah 6:14 Praise be to the Saviour for thinking about us:
Reviving our spirituality
Replenishing our sustenance
Refining our stewardship service
Rejoicing our serene salvation-status
Responding to our supplication with His strength
Nehemiah 7:5 Praise be to the Almighty for putting His will
in our hearts for our:
Victorious faith
Vitalized fueled firmness
Valiant favourable fervency
Vigor to fight foes by His flame
Virtuous values toward faithfulness-flow. Amen!
May 24, 2024
The colour of her Kohl uncertain,
She flips the pages of the magazines.
No hints, no clues, no advice.
Disgused as the voice of reason:
Common sense.
She paints her eyes to burnt orange
To match her dark complexion,
She wears a flowery gown still in fashion
She arrives at the party
Surveying the naked eyes staring
At the starry night.
She wrecks her brains
About an ill-advice
Of staring at the stars with
Naked eyes.
Her mind is blank.
Why is no one wearing Kohl anymore?
All the females are in strippy gowns.
The invitation said flowery gowns.
Is this a postmodern take
To flowery fashion?
She takes off her glasses
And wipes them clean
The stripes are still hurting her vision
Where is she?
Why are all the familiar faces
In stripes and not flowers?
The loud music plays
Familiar tunes
Bob Marley, the Doors
She floats to the music
Ripples of her hem.
Though this enigma;
Still unresolved;
Is niggling her.
She strikes up a conversation
With a handsome
Blond youth.
He admires her Kohl
Burnt orange and all.
Pays a complement about
Her rose tinted complexion
She blushes even more.
Though the conundrum
Is still there
Unresolved.
She puts on her brave face
And asks
"The flowers are hidden
Behind the stripes."
He answers casually
No touch of irony.
How she demands to know?
"Simple," he answers,
"Dresses are multi layered"
She feels like a fool.
She reproaches to the question
Of lack Kohl.
"No one cares to hide
Their eyes no more."
The youth
Says
"I like a woman in Kohl."
Yasemin Balandi
Chronic Pain – The Beginning
You snuck into my life in the 1998th of May,
Everything about me wishes that you’d go away,
My whole being longs to feel good strong and well,
But for the last 18 years each day has nothing new to tell,
Chronic pain I hate you, chronic pain I hate you…
My story is I used to be athletic but that changed for me,
Playing sports of every kind enjoying being wild and free,
Your gifts to me were all new forms of aches, pains and fretting,
The simplest things became so hard to do plus deeply upsetting,
Chronic pain my rage, chronic pain my rage…
People see us walk and talk and think deep down this guy is fine,
They do not see the inward battle that is stealing all that was mine,
The real me is gone and he is not coming back for he has died,
Oh one truth is my heart is breaking and I just want to run and hide,
Chronic pain the robber, chronic pain the robber…
Those who have been fighting long now just put on a pleasant face,
Family, friends no longer stop by or care thinking we are a disgrace,
We simply do whatever our bodies will allow us to do each day,
Telling fibs to those who happen to ask us how are you anyway,
Chronic pain my enemy, chronic pain my enemy…
What will you do to me tomorrow trust me when I say I can wait,
Comfort sanity good things to think about to get me through this date,
God give me a silver bullet please restore me to my former self,
I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines watching my life from on a shelf,
Chronic pain please be gone, chronic pain please be gone…
Written by – William Arthur Tell
2Cor.12:10 – Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.
ScourMoueINn
ScourMoueINn
Sahrah tends. Sahrah tends the bar at the Inn. The ScourMoueINn. She washes dishes
passes out Ale to the largesse man drinks droughts ever pays. IN the corner passing
unnoticed is the small monkish man with the leer, so eye watch young Sahrah tend. When
approached reproaches some nervous curses foiled. Foible but talented drinking no ale at his
table but soda just impaling his eye upon Sahrah, sure he is never noticed young love never
notices old want. His blemishes fails. She comes laying left on the table near the old mans
soda was a Valentine Heart full of young love twisting it turning it over the old man read
Sahrah loves... but the namme was failing no namme was forthcoming his misunderstanding
was in thinking Sahrah never loves him, she loves everyone just the same as she tends even
him. The largesse man no threat head bent half asleep full of Ale on the table. They soon all
get away. Sahrah came. She stood looking inside like all young women have there own
interest do. Reaching her hand out to touch once the elder mans beard. Then they left the
largesse man there asleep turned the Key to the Door of the Inn. A Valentines Heart will
come true. At the ScourMoueINn. Sarah tends.
Wakeful dispensations....
Traveling down reproaches weaving road at the speed of mono sound!?
Disintegrations decay within the rearview mirrors fiery blow-by-blows
Smoke and debris transformations strewn about whirlwind trails of sins
Destructive tales to form this phenomenon through, vestibules cryptic....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Crucible amid, assimilations abstract theory?!
Weird, strange, illusion, dream, nonsense; words plenty since ever
To overcome fear, avoid confusion, maintain commonsense or whatever!
But this story of mine is an experience I record as game of nature;
Revisiting it, wondering on the hows and whys over the years as I grew mature.
The answer only he held; the one who wished to live life careless and carefree!
Then one day he sunk in the marsh and died, setting her widowed mother free
As if of all frustrations and reproaches from kin, peers and so many in the locality!
A good soul he had met once who admonished him, patiently
And left him in some good hands who could guide him start anew.
He tried to change but at his own time, as of what was in future he had no clue.
What thoughts in mind and what visions froze in eyes closing to death? One phone call to the good soul after a year; as if from other realm, a message.
His name he left, saying to tell that good soul he had called; was it a presage?
That good soul ready ever to help called a friend who related to him in melancholy;
That very morning, he had been to the boy’s one year after death ceremony!
The good soul sat in shock; he didn't even know about his death a year back.
In trance he walked to his fiancée's house; over night he talked to her about him, in flashback!
(I wrote a short story on this. Based on true experience in 1993, some months before my wedding. It was during the “Pitra Paksh” (Fete des morts in Hindi) – here we are actually in this period which ends on 1st oct 2016. The boy met my fiancé, a youth worker, who had some words with him and his family. He never met him again. Among Hindus the final after death ceremony is performed after one year of death and it is believed that the soul, if not departed earlier, has to after the last and final ceremony)
On a bench,where I sat waiting for heavenly inspiration,
as the yellow sun moves downward and slowly evaporating,
with my pen and note pad , I`m tuned to this inclination,
The blowing of thick summer dust is quite exasperating,
but its effects nullified by the whistling of the canary,
Alas!a bus stops suddenly,like a magic carriage,
And a psychedelic dame alighted carrying a black berry,
blood rushes to my fore head,making me lose courage.
This lady is captivating and rare in the sea of Pisces,
which makes me to adjust my Telescopic lens,
Her mesmerizing moves make me forget my present crisis,
as I lunge out to impress her without sitting on the fence.
She smiles with a snow white teeth as she approaches,
wooing and making this lady mine will stop all reproaches.
With God's promise of victory* for His glory
Sealed by His granted salvation through Christ's blood at Calvary…
My soul can win over self-pity’s misery.
With God's promise of victory in exalting His name
Prioritizing Him, denying worldly fame…
My heart can overcome self-reproaches’ blame.
With God's promise of victory through His sanctification
Grateful to Him for eternal redemption…
My spirit can conquer self-glory’s corruption.
With God's promise of victory by His faithfulness
Being called to walk in His holiness…
My testimony can persevere over self-righteousness’ haughtiness.
With God's promise of victory amidst His grace
For stewardship's work upon His ministry’s brace…
My commitment can surmount self-confidence with humility’s trace.
With God's promise of victory around His sustenance
Enjoying His supply’s abundance as well as body maintenance...
My well-being can hurdle self-inflicted pain due to health-related ignorance.
With God's promise of victory based on Scripture
Along with imputed divine nature…
My trust can succeed over self-exaltation’s fall in my faith-venture.
1Corinthians 15:57 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
June 2, 2020
3rd place, "The Promise" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 6/6/2020.
Sometimes, I grumble in my weariness
my heart complains of burdensome toils…
yet when silenced by God
engulfing me with His loving peace
all I need to do is express my weakness litany
confessing self-pity’s lamentation
admitting skeptical justification of carnal arrogance
in the guise of rational argumentation, indeed earnest
believing fully well that He knows my needs
even before I come to His throne of grace.
At times, I’m despondent
about my pursuits’ profitability
as mocking reproaches attack my soul
questioning my commitment
for life-building concerns…
then when the Saviour quiets me by His mercy
I yield to His assuring embrace of approval
thanking Him for commending my sacrifice
exalting His name in worship, basking in His goodness
for the privilege of being in His ministry.
Ceaselessly, I seek divine silence* of heavenly bliss
within the Almighty’s secured haven:
His truth-fortress, tenaciously steadfast
where my faith finds strength upon Scriptures’ upholding
shielding me against despair enslavement
gearing my spirit toward temptation flight triumph
so I can continue fulfilling His granted roles
marked by reaching-out endeavours
of leading others to enjoy the blest tranquility
Christ offers through His gift of eternal life.
*Psalm 35:22 This thou hast seen, O LORD: keep not silence: O Lord, be not far from me.
June 24, 2020
2nd place, "Reflection in Silence" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 6/25/2020.
May 15 Scripture Meditations Based on Psalms 69-72
Key Verse – Psalm 70:5 But I am poor and needy: make haste unto me, O God: thou art my help and my deliverer; O LORD, make no tarrying.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR BEING READY TO HELP ME
Thank You for being ready to help me against sinking in sins’ deep mire
For never letting my soul to suffer in hell’s fire
Because You love me with Your compassion that does not tire
Despite my lack of holiness that You require and desire.
Thank You for being ready to help me against thriving submission-reluctance
For never hurting my heart that’s earnest to show repentance
Because You care for me midst fellowship’s intimacy, not from a distance
Despite my frustration over absence of faith’s substance.
Thank You for being ready to help me against wearying foolishness
For never turning my seeking toward Your wisdom’s purposiveness
Because You teach me by Your scriptural instruction-effectiveness
Despite my unbelief’s stubbornness midst ignorance-perilousness.
Thank You for being ready to help me against overflowing hardship
For never undermining my prayer in my service-stewardship
Because You uphold me in Your offered labor-partnership
Despite my inconsistency in surrendering to Your workmanship.
Thank You for being ready to help me against confounding reproaches
For never insulting my sincerity with condemning searches
Because You regard me and my frailty-crutches
Despite my pride of vain hunches along blinking selfishness-torches.
Thank You for being ready to help me against attacking adversaries
For never pushing my choices into destruction-set territories
Because You guard me by Your protective miracles’ mysteries
Despite my doubts’ vexations and needfulness’ worries.
May 15, 2022
I asked for 40 winks more, but she
had her way with me, as she always does.
Don't argue with the muse: "The ***** is always right,"
my brother would say in disgust about his third,
and final wife. He's the guy who walked me
down the aisle in a crowded church,
and gave me as wife to his best friend, in lieu
of a father, gone too soon. "I wish Daddy
didn't die," he said, a grown man on the telephone
in one of his late night phone calls, where I
sat huddled in a blanket on the floor, listening
to the lost child he would always be.
He wore pinstripe gray on my wedding day,
preempting the famous "Hucklebuck" as we
christened the funky turquoise suit
that lit up his blue eyes and golden Greek-
god hair. He was the baby brother I raised
after our mother left, leaving him back-
stroking, forever seeking Jesus love
in a sea of imperfect women.
Ever the renegade, he took his married sister
to his Senior Prom to whispers
of impropriety, and glares from pretty girls
who might have been his date. I was
the big sister, glamourous in the simple,
black moire' gown our aunt had made to take
my freshman year at college by storm.
Oh Yes! Brother above reproaches,
gone ten years as your birthday approaches,
I call (no area code needed) to say,
in the 28 minutes it took to write this poem,
maybe less than the time it takes to birth
a baby, 'dare a la luz', red and screaming
in his brand-new birthday suit, Poetry
and you, brother, were labors of love. You:
the most beautiful boy in the world.
2 Corinthians 12:10 ~ "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."
~ The Holy Bible
When I'm bogged down by fears,
Then He reminds, "Be not afraid",
When I'm troubled with tears,
Then He tells me, "Don't be dismayed";
When future's bleak,
He comes along,
When I am weak,
Then am I strong;
When I'm filled with sorrows,
Then He assures, "Be of good cheer",
When I'm tensed 'bout morrows,
Then He comforts, "I'm with you, dear";
When cares exhaust,
He unwinds me,
When I feel lost,
Then He finds me;
When I'm mired in worries,
Then He whispers, "Be filled with peace",
When stalled as time hurries,
Then He confirms, "Wait, be still, cease";
When my feet slip,
He steadies me,
With His strong grip
then readies me.
13th April 2023
For Constance La France's "Writing challenge - 'T' words" contest