Best Researcher Poems
The child is a poet with innocent eyes
And a bumpity A-B-C rhyme,
A dancer whose feet with the rhythm of life
Move in jubilant one-two-three time.
The child is a doctor who heals with a kiss
And treats with a serum called smile,
A researcher who seeks out the meaning of life,
Then explains it with unflinching style.
The child is a chef who makes sandwich and Kool-Aid
And thinks it a royal repast,
A hero who battles the monsters and villains
And renders our land safe at last.
The child is a teacher, a sleuth, an explorer,
Controller of race car and ship,
Possessor of limitless spirit and mind
With holster and gun at the hip.
Reflections of children shine pure in the eyes
Of those who are watching them grow,
Remembering times when the sunrise meant journeys
To lands where adults cannot go.
Written in 1987
( I visited the palace of Dracula in the year 2003 while attending The World Congress of Poets)at Iasi, Romania. If anyone interested to view Dracula Castle, I have placed a photo on my photo blog)
Deep in the Carpathian Mountains
Perched atop on a rocky peak
Is the castle of prince Dracula of Romania
But his way to rule was quite unique.
He was a ruler, a researcher, a law-maker
And law-breaker, a lover of a different kind.
His preferred method of torture was impalement
Hammering nails into one’s head,
Hacking of the limbs, burning alive
Cutting of noses and ears,
Mutilation of sexual organs
And last, not the least, boiling alive.
Inhuman cruelty infamous in history
Stake would be forced through the body
Till it immerged from the mouth.
Like a scientist he made research
On to make it slow to die.
Strange were the ways for the welfare of people
And what a way to keep people wealthy
Poor, vagrant, beggars, and the cripples
Were invited for the feast in a great hall.
After the feast, ordered to set fire on the hall.
What a way to solve poverty and over-population!
Dracula had a mistress, a fair one who drove him
To distraction but ready to please this moody man.
Once she told him that she was with a child
Dracula had her examined for veracity of her claim.
When told, she was not with a child he drew his knife
Cutting her open from groin to the breasts
What a strange way to verify the truth and honesty.
==============================================
Date: 1-27-14
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place Win
Contest: Castles by Shadow Hamilton
A lady with a weak bladder*
Thought nothing could make her madder
But Heaven knows
Her pantyhose
Revealed a soaking-wet ladder!
*Weight gain stretches bladder muscle causing
leakage. The French strengthen bladder muscle by
blowing up balloons. The Japanese prefer sitting on
a wooden stool and repetitiously lifting their legs level
to the floor, but the quickest results are achieved by
the Manx Method developed by avid researcher Jan
Allison, which consists of standing on one's head
and farting along with the 1812 Overature!
A true Nigerian is brave like the Lion,
He is courageous, hospitable and kind.
He never shies away from responsibilities;
In his hearts of heart he controls all within him.
Through faith, he moves without stopping;
Even when there are many road blocks, he conquers.
A true Nigerian is patriotic and loyal,
He is not a gambler nor a fraudester.
He walks to achieve a common goal; unity.
He sees black as black and white as white.
He is the eyes that the country boast of home and abroad when he brings home the glory of love.
A true Nigerian never discriminates among his people.
A true Nigeria is a good leader in his home and country, he sees beyond looting of money and
Embazzlement of public fund in his trust.
A true Nigeria is perfectly perfect in perfection,
He is not dubious as you may think and have in your
Wrongly wronedg mind of mind towards him.
A True Nigerian is never lazy and idle like they say,
He is hardworking, goal driven, dreamer and doer.
He knows his rights and obligations in his society.
A true Nigerian is a true African decorated with an
Unfading black blood in his strongly strong vein.
He is honest, gentle, courageous and easy-going man.
A true Nigerian is a poet because he sees beyond you.
A true Nigerian is holy not fanatic fool in the church.
A true Nigerian believes and hope in the land of his forebears that goodness shall spring out from it.
He is educated, intelligent, world class citizen and
A thunder that strikes to destroy evil among his people.
He looks right into your eyes and tell you tomorrow.
A true Nigerian is a reader not a watcher of event,
He is a researcher, world class entrepreneur.
A true Nigerian obeys the laws of the land,
He is a goal getter among all in the World.
Show me a million succeessful men around the world and; I will show you thousand of Nigerians among them.
We are blessed in many ways, nurished with a talent of gifts; Nigerians are blessed and uplifted.
We believe that If something that was going to chop off your head only knocked off your cap, you should be grateful and when a girl has beauty without Brains, the Private parts suffer the most.
We are Nigerians, we are proudly Nigerians.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
‘MY BROKEN HEART’
Poem to Richard Madeley and Judy Finnegan
Here is my heart, broken in two.
Because I lost my chance to appear with you.
The greatest chance of my life, I’ve ever had,
To talk about my writing although it’s sad,
To meet denise again, the signed photo she gave me in ‘95’
Hangs on our kitchen wall with great pride.
I would never have gone on holiday to Skegness,
If I had known the outcome would have caused me so much distress,
To be contacted three times by you’re researcher, Nicola McNeleus
To be asked to appear on your show as a guest.
It broke my heart. When I found all her messages, but by then it was to late,
I would have come back from holiday, Done anything to keep that date.
I watch your show every day,
Please god let them give me another chance I pray,
I would give anything in this would to be.
Sitting with my husband with you two on that settee,
With my eighteen-year tranquilliser addiction and agoraphobia, I’ve been to hell and
back,
But now my life is back on track.
To give hope to others, to show the world what I have done,
Who knows it may even be fun.
So please Richard and Judy, answer my prayer,
Please, Please Please, let us be there.
I am the hidden, the forbidden, and the lost link
Unto the creature called man?
The basic primal instinct, the raw inner fear,
That quivers within the interior nerve left exposed,
Do I exist, define existence if you so dare?
Habitations inherit divergence, I’m diversity’s
Maligned beast, living on the edge of extinction,
Wishing nothing more than to be left alone.
A child of the wilderness, I so cling to the hardened
Cliff’s roughest point of origin, survivals primitive,
Dangling in the winds of the lost, barely hanging
By mine own finger tips, begging for life,
Yet unable to speak on my own behalf.
Curiosities unseen visitor by night,
I’ll pull back the current of reality if pushed,
I’m the wounded animal screaming within
Humanities darkest nightmares,
Do I exist, reach out beyond your
Limitations comfort zone, and find out?
A creature dwelling within the shadow realm
Of reality, wood knockings echo, that rocks
The mountain tops by the illusions of the
Night moon.
Do I exist, does not a jackal feast beneath
The African eclipse, am I not made of flesh
And bone, come into my wild kingdom researcher,
Here your find the answers you so seek,
But if alive thy leave no promises do I so keep?
Once in fears caverns did our species hide,
Traveling only under the darkness of night.
Driven by the white demons whom didn’t
Understand that which was considered
Different, we became the hunted,
The outcasts, as they livid amongst
The rays of the sunlit world of light.
I am the hidden, the forbidden, and the lost link
Unto the creature called man?
The basic primal instinct, the raw inner fear,
That quivers within the interior nerve left exposed,
Do I exist, define existence if you so dare?
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Majored in Social Anthropology -
Healdtown a significant influence
in his life .Not only was Mafeje an
influential academic, he was a man
of brilliance, intellect and insight.
His trials and tribulations were many. For example,
Archibald addressed a crowd which was ‘illegally gathered’,
and for that reason he was arrested. He did not despair.
A force in the fight against injustices and marginalisation.
A custodian of African heritage, awareness and identity.
A protector of the African identity, of African roots and rights;
Mafeje contributed to South Africa and its nationals. An ‘intellectual
pathfinder’ who played his role in enhancing the people of Africa’s
knowledge and self –worth. That which he bestowed, both on the scholarly
and political spheres was no mean feat. He shone in both scholastic and
insightful ways. A man of brilliance, intellect and insight. A focused pathfinder.
He laid the foundation for future African scholars embarking on a similar path of study. He also raised the benchmark in his field of study. A fountain of
knowledge and an author and researcher of repute.A focused pathfinder.
In the middle of the night a door slams
The awful scent of cigarettes floats upward penetrates my nostrils
Insomnia keeps him up and restless
Lying here I hear, smell and know that the worst is yet to come
Huntington's Disease slowly destroys brain cells
Mutant form of huntingtin aggregrates within the brain
It touches the connectors and interfers with the synaps
Extra dopamine causes his need for instant gratification
I taste the tears as they spill tumbling down
Feel the his fear, his terror of what lies ahead
I can hear his hurtful words as his temper flairs
Thankful for his hugs when he is calm
I am glad that he is able to work for inability lies ahead
Unless some researcher somewhere finds a treatment
If not only downhill slide is inevidible
Destruction of the brain will leave him unable to even swallow
Let my tears spill down, overflow touch upon my face
Taste the salt as they touch my lips
Let me face the daylight hours with courage and strength
Today he might stumble and fall into the horrors of the disease
Contest: In A Relationship With Disabled Person
Sponsor: W. Thomas Markham
One famous person with Huntington's Disease was Woody Gutherie
If you care to you can type in Woody Gutherie on YouTube and hear him..
Fasting cleanses both body and soul
It breaks you only to make you whole
Its spiritual connection plays a vital role.
Now not only the wearer knows the shoe pinches
for you get the chance to be in the needy's shoes
A whole month to forget those addictive binges
A chance to comprehend the poor man's cues.
Donot complain if your tummy's rumbling grumbling
for the poor man has always been thus starving
Feel his hunger, feel for him
and side by side give your weight a trim
Everybody wants to be so slim.
Many religions do prescribe it
The fasting one will describe it
If you have never done it
you might want to try it.
A month of fortitude, forbearance is a month of fasting
intended to impart a self-control and patience that's everlasting.
We all need ketosis to get rid of the lipids, fat stores
And researcher Google just told me that's what fasting ensures!
Craving for eatables the belly though may be raging
yet scientists have proved that produces a substance for anti-aging!
So if you are interested in a healthier, longer life span
come join me and fast away this month of Ramazaan.
It's time you understood God's health plan.
Researchers say the fasting person diverts energy
from the digestive system to the immune system!
Every wajibat has been proven good for both soul and body
Scroll even Google for yourself to thank the fasting dictum.
Fasting's a perfect way of bodily detoxification
Researchers say it's notable how fasting detoxifies each organ!
So come one come all, fasting can be for any creed
It lowers the BP and lowers the greed
as attention is diverted from the self to those in need.
I hope a month of NO food yet gives some food for thought
For a fasting from pondering should never be sought!
Ambiguous Loss**
(a paradox of presence and absence )
(coined by researcher educationist Pauline Boss)
You disappeared.. without a last goodbye
a story ends incomplete, holding on to hope
beneath frozen tears, an ambiguous sigh
an uncertain mystery, tell me how to cope.
a story ends incomplete , holding on to hope
you are dead or still alive, an unresolved grief
an uncertain mystery, tell me how to cope.
ruminating worried thoughts , never in relief
you are dead or still alive, an unresolved grief
a persistent sorrow, where have you gone?
ruminating worried thoughts , never in relief
in cold storage you live, how do I move on ?
a persistent sorrow, where have you gone?
beneath frozen tears, an ambiguous sigh
in cold storage you live, how do I move on?
You disappeared... without a last goodbye.
**Ambiguous loss is a loss that occurs without closure or clear understanding.This kind of loss leaves a person searching for answers, and thus complicates and delays the process of grieving. (Wikipedia ).It is prominent when a loved one goes missing , soldiers lost in action , the family live in continual loss difficult to reconcile .
.
15th February 2020
Sponsor Line Gauthier
Contest Name PANTOUMT
Innocently lured off Hwange National Park
shot at with a bow and arrow
injured and confused
then tracked down
and killed in cold
blood with a gun
Cecil was killed on July 1 of 2015
whether he was murdered by a
big game hunter or a researcher--
the truth remains—such a friendly
lion did not deserve to die in a horrible way
conservationists and all good people are outraged
surely someone somewhere has to account for this
horrifying act of cruelty and other poaching crimes
This is for Andrea D. who asked for my Cow Gas poems. I have at least one more to
post. Look for California Cows. Mike
Cow Gas
I’m putting my cows all on Beano
With the veggies they eat – oh the gas
Eight hundred plus liters of methane
Each day through each cow does pass
Either that or get funnels and tubing
To capture the gas when it comes
And convert my gas guzzling auto
So on methane alone will it run
If cows can do it, why can’t I
A tube, a tank, and by and by
I’ll generate enough to fry
A burger on my grill
While it won’t get me very far
Were my gas used to run a car
The world would label me a star
For doing what I will
But if everyone would do their part
To capture each and every fart
That through your system did depart
Global Warming would be a chill
Mdailey
Researchers say the slow digestive system of cows makes them a producer of
methane, a potent greenhouse gas that gets far less public attention than carbon
dioxide in efforts to fight global warming. When we got the first results, we were
surprised. Thirty per cent of Argentina's (total greenhouse) emissions could be
generated by cows,' said Guillermo Berra, a researcher at the National Institute of
Agricultural Technology. Berra said the researchers 'never thought' a cow weighing
550 kg (1,210 lb) could produce 800 to 1,000 litres (28 to 35 cubic feet) of emissions
each day. Greenhouse gases are widely blamed for causing global warming.
Methane, researchers say, is 23 times more potent than carbon dioxide in trapping
heat in the atmosphere.
We can probably do the same with the typical human male. It would be no less
complicated and probably no more uncomfortable than a colostomy bag. And while
the typical male may not generate enough gas to run an auto, it should be enough
to run a gas grill on the weekends. Think of the savings and the contribution you
would be making to the war on global warming. As you all know, girls do not pass
gas (or so they tell me) so only the male species would be able to contribute in this
manner.
I am the hidden, the forbidden, and the lost link
Unto the creature called man?
The basic primal instinct, the raw inner fear,
That quivers within the interior nerve left exposed,
Do I exist, define existence if you so dare?
Habitations inherit divergence, I’m diversity’s
Maligned beast, living on the edge of extinction,
Wishing nothing more than to be left alone.
A child of the wilderness, I so cling to the hardened
Cliff’s roughest point of origin, survivals primitive,
Dangling in the winds of the lost, barely hanging
By mine own finger tips, begging for life,
Yet unable to speak on my own behalf.
Curiosities unseen visitor by night,
I’ll pull back the current of reality if pushed,
I’m the wounded animal screaming within
Humanities darkest nightmares,
Do I exist, reach out beyond your
Limitations comfort zone, and find out?
A creature dwelling within the shadow realm
Of reality, wood knockings echo, that rocks
The mountain tops by the illusions of the
Night moon.
Do I exist, does not a jackal feast beneath
The African eclipse, am I not made of flesh
And bone, come into my wild kingdom researcher,
Here your find the answers you so seek,
But if alive thy leave no promises do I so keep?
Once in fears caverns did our species hide,
Traveling only under the darkness of night.
Driven by the white demons whom didn’t
Understand that which was considered
Different, we became the hunted,
The outcasts, as they livid amongst
The rays of the sunlit world of light.
I am the hidden, the forbidden, and the lost link
Unto the creature called man?
The basic primal instinct, the raw inner fear,
That quivers within the interior nerve left exposed,
Do I exist, define existence if you so dare?
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Khalid
Kindhearted, funny, talented, happy
Son of sweet hearted mother
Lover of drawing, music and animals
Who feels encouraged, optimistic, and joys
Who fears quarrel, blood, weapons, and wars
Who would like to fly in space, to be a paratrooper and a mountain climber
Chemistry researcher
Before There Was Google
By Elton Camp
Way back in the graduate school days
To find facts, there weren’t many ways
Simply to find a library book
Into the card catalog you look
In little drawers, find the card
Searching was tedious and hard
When you locate it, still have doubt
For perhaps the book is checked out
It was off into the musty stack
The needed information to track
Also bringing the hapless researcher fear:
The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature
One couldn’t have a sure expectation
The magazine was even in the collection
In very few colleges anywhere around
Was even a single computer to be found
For the good old days, I don’t yearn
But trust Google to help me learn