Best Sceptic Poems
Those eyes of yours
Holding a bunch of blue sky
Have been inspiring me lifelong
To seek rhyme and song
In turbulence
A Buddha like balance
Then you, the sceptic
Always asking
'What is your view?'
Almost like Socrates
Never readily conforming to
Any set thesis
Would open a sky
Asking why this
Why not that
To discover a new door to stand at
Thus you wanted to groom us:
'Cogito ergo sum'
I think, therefore I am
Relaxing my diaphragm
And now in the twilight I look at
My too many windows to look out
For a new sprout
I thank you there
Among the twinkling stars
And you young girl
How soft suave but yet straight
Is your speech
While we screech at a little conflict
Raising ugly forms
Ignoring norms of civilization
You are always low but firm
Polite but powerful
I try to be like you
In my communications
In interrelations
A grandfather trying to emulate a granddaughter
Life is a great assorter
And there you
The oranges in the tree
The beauty spree
The life and lyre free
Have inspired me
To stay happy
Even in despondency
Then you
The beggar in the street
A lesson for survival
Never say yes to defeat
You have to first sleep and eat
Then towards other vitals
You the whore
Drifting from shore to shore
Embracing sort of death
For the sake of life
Tiny shines of strife
Where ever you look at life
With a childlike interrogation
With a touch of admiration
Will come across
In a session
Diamonds of inspiration
___________________________________________________
3/1/2017 : Contest: Who has inspired you most in your life
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri-Carroll
Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking coals.
Down to the river's edge where swaying reeds
feed mongrel contemplations with moist whispered words;
rusty oil-slicked surfaces lick the muddy banks,
karma sutra assassins are the predatory birds.
Fixated upon a frozen traffic system, bolt-locked,
dumb-shocked by electric one way streets to dead ends;
barstool poets weep sleep-sozzled cabbage tears
for the closing-time tragedy of long-time absent friends.
Drunkards shamble on beer-stained coliseum floors, grumble,
mumble incomprehensible diatribes into thin air;
the memorial park benches flake skin and rot within,
white spirits rape the dreams that anyone should care.
Deserted boardwalks spool a crooked travel,
unravel with myopic glint and blink, cat's eyes dying, died,
and the desolated song from night's deflated lung
hums doggerel consolation with no meaning left inside.
Illegitimate offspring of fatherless daughters and sons,
buns in sceptic ovens, burnt baked black offerings;
sacrifices on toilet stall altars, to lie in state
no more than ether, aborted ghosts, empty superfluous things.
Saviours ride no pale horses, immaculate white stallions,
galleons never sail to where the sun pristinely sets,
for the purpose of this life resides in its conclusion,
deserve has nothing to do with it and nothing is all it begets
Inspired by Charles B. Widmeyer’s hymn “Come and Dine.”
COME AND DRINK
It’s inside of him who waits—
passion afore it’s too late.
The stirring of the waters, his healing close.
With no working legs, no boast,
has no friends to help him coast
into the waters…then Jesus overflows.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
Magdalene’s seven spirits—
viscosity that digs deep.
She’s haunted by nefarious wolves—sceptic.
Deeper still, one touch of Christ,
draws her to the highest heights.
Deeply cleansed from impure thoughts— Christ heals the sick.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
What’s better than this? The lamb—
led to the cross…great I Am
eaten up with all our suffering and sins.
What’s better than that? The dawn
bursts forth lovely as a swan—
Christ with life-giving power, a righteous win.
Refrain
Rejoice! Rejoice! Oh what joy there is in Him.
Kind of joy that bubbles, rises to the brink.
With richest blessings poured, to the chalice rim,
overflowing cascade beckons, “Come and Drink.”
10/18/2021
My mother had a treasured ornament
A big brown shire horse
To the mind of a ten year old
This was a toy of course .
It was a steed for my action figures
A target for my toy gun
It carried cavalry and Indians
Giving me hours of fun.
One day whilst playing with my plastic bow and arrow
I knocked the shire horse from the table
Two pieces broken from its mane
But superglue held them stable.
I never told a living soul
I was never asked, So I never lied
and my mother polished that horse every day
Right up until the day she died.
Last night at my mates house
He and his wife were entertaining a fortune telling friend
What she had to say to me
Made the hairs on my neck stand on end
I think all that stuff is utter rubbish
and I got up to leave
When the lady asked me why
I said, I'm afraid I don't believe .
I said goodbye to all my friends
Then I turned to go
The medium/fortune teller
Told me there was something I should know
She understood I was a sceptic
So I must leave of course
but I should know my mum had forgiven me
For breaking her shire horse.
No one but me knew about that horse
I have kept it secret for so long
This morning my scepticism about fortune tellers
Is still there but not quite so strong
As I've said I broke that shire horse
So many years ago
I never told a living soul
So how did that fortune teller know ?
I wanted a quiet evening, away from Proto
To order a pizza with loads of ricotta,
And write a poem, with not one interruption,
Savoring a glass of wine, without disruption.
Sounds perfect to me said a voice, let us begin.
I looked around no one was there except Lynn
My golden Labrador, the voice spoke once more,
It’s so pretty outside, from here comes inspiration,
Poems bring serenity,
But at times written in desperation.
The voice came from my poem I had just started,
I was delighted, felt elated could this be magic.
I believe that you talk, I’m no sceptic
You’re the words creating my poem and I a poet.
I will stay by your side, and together,
We will travel where ever, forever.
With a fame so destined,
Bitcoin will have nothing on us
We will kick up a such a lot of dust,
And create a great fuss.
Now don’t forget this is my poem, I explained, you only
Add if I ask.
Once upon a poem and rhyme,
Lived an old, old man called time,
No, no, no, said the words,
The cat,
Sat on the mat
And ate the rat
That is not poetry I shouted, you arrived in my space
Perhaps you should explain why you’re here,
And state your case!
Then I heard another voice, somewhat shrill
I’m so glad it said, chase the words away
I recognized the second voice straight away,
For I’d heard it every day,
It was my Muse, she sounded sad and was crying
You don’t love me anymore, my heart is dying,
So I assured my muse Patsic
That altogether, we’d create worldwide magic!
Oh good said the words, it was getting too much
And spilt a tear on the poetry page.
Now can you listen, please,
I’m not so young in age,
I can’t get so upset,
Glad we have all met.
Then continued,
The furry cat,
Sat on the Persian mat,
And ate a fat rat.
Still unacceptable, I said to the words,
Let me finish mine.
No, no, exclaimed the words, I want to try again,
The eclipse on the earth, orbiting into the moons shadow,
Glimpses the bright sun, and from a slither so narrow,
Stop, I said, that was good,
Perhaps I’ll let you finish tomorrow.
So you thought it was good, let’s do the dance of joy,
And as we danced, the words on my page
Scattered everywhere.
I looked at my new friend,
It will be an eventful, ecstatic journey for us,
This partnership of three, will I know,
Entertain,
Time and time again!
“All war is a deception”
The day was chilly and dark
Low clouds hung over the sun
A low church stood a silent witness
To the raging sea and surf
Past its bent arch, darkness reigned
A candle lit slowly by the priest.
One by one the faces come to light.
Amused bronze. Smiling stone. Unsurprised.
For a time the length of that candle
gesture after gesture revives and dies.
Stance after lost stance is found
and lost again.
Who was that, you ask.
The saviour, the son, the priest replies.
A sceptic candle coughs.
I count the angels on the wall
And mother Mary’s soft tears
As all around the war rages
You come out in the dark sun
And find the children playing the game of death
24/09/2011
By Tahera Mannan
For constance’s “The Church by the ocean” contest
Love for First sight :
Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.”
Because you were my real boy friend forever.” “I meant it when I said I didn't believe in love at first sight. It takes time to really, truly fall for someone.
It's not easy to believe in love at first sight until that special person comes along and steals your heart.
Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.
It’s the first time that my heart has become so restless.
Waiting has now become very difficult .
Yes, it seems as if I’m in love.
I have become very impatient now to meet with my real gf.
She have complete control over my pure heart and pure soul now,
it seems like i have fallen in love for the first time in my real life.
I don’t find sleep all night long.
Every moment thoughts of her senseless talks,the memory of good time spent torture me.
How should I describe my real feeling of love to her?
If i go far away but come back to her again.
O my beloved, what’s this happening to my heart!
It seems as if I’m in love.
The intoxication of her speaking gaze has robbed my heart.
O my beloved, Your simplicity has robbed me.
The feeling of pain seems pleasant to me now
Today I have learnt what it means when two hearts unite.
I have full trust on my heart-beats now.
“Love is like a friendship caught on fire."
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your own destiny according to your own good wishes for you.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Slowly, silently now the moon
Shines in her silvery shoon
Ever since the creation of the world
The colour of the moon is always gold
An essential planet at the service of humanity
It continues to rotate for more than a century
Frequently the moon changes shape
From the crescent to the semi - lunar frame
Gradually it matures into full moon
Going around the earth singing her tune
Whether young or old everyone loves the moon
For it is considered as a sign of boon
Together with the stars embellishing the sky
Through its illumination the bat will fly
With the help of divine light
It brings forth the traveler's delight
A common belief is that it influences the lunatic
Of which many are still sceptic
It's birth is based on a monthly apparition
Deciding the exact dates of festivals and celebrations
With its waxing and waning movement
High and low tides are under its command
Viewing the moon at night
Is indeed a splendid sight
Awareness drifts in a pool of sinew, flesh, fat, muscle, cartilage, hair, nail, bone, sodden skin, fluid, bile, excrement, blood, swirling in the maelstrom; in its belly thought.
Clarity forgotten, dissolved, flushed down the drain without Mercy.
Bon Secours,
Bon Voyage.
©dbyrne June 2014
.Inspired From Sapper French's Diary from April 23. 1916
"Come On Over Fritz"
Rain like a shower down my back off a thin wooden lath
It’s cold and miserable unlike a welcome hot bath
Air so bad we cannot breathe, today don’t feel like taking this path.
Gas bombs are falling a thick yellow cloud rolls our way.
Pray God the wind catches and sends it astray.
Thank God no gas lungs for us today…
We used the same trick as miners with a canary bird to test for gas
But we caged a mouse instead, if it died we would not pass
We got sick, but the mouse survived, oh telling us; what an ass.
Got a cut upon my leg, the doctor says it’s septic
What a relief a hospital bed, lots of company, analeptic
I though this war was right, now I’m a sceptic.
Back in the field scores of bodies lying dead
Personalities cut down, stuck in the mud ahead
Blood bath, bodies everywhere we tread.
Walking in water up to our knees without ease
Found water cress, so good with bread and cheese.
A little comfort, although not much sitting in this bise.
It’s strange something simple like finding water cress
Can give us an unsophisticated pleasure in this gory mess
Eating and drinking, amidst body parts - no less.
But we had to do what we could for every inch we could gain
How the mighty fall, the Germans came to our trench of mud and rain
With grenades, daggers and bayonets – most stayed, face down; slain.
A huge German solider was patched up by our lads
An older man with a scratch; reminded us of our dads
It’s remarkable we fight and kill, yet still mend these cads.
August the tenth a strange day, a German stuck his head over the barbette
One of our boys called out “Come on over fritz” as if he did it for a bet
Fritz relied in perfect English “no blooming fear” happy to have met.
After the respite of banter back and forth
New orders went out to be followed henceforth
Anyone talking to the enemy would be arrested thenceforth.
Entered into Mark Toney's
Poetry Marathon mile 7 contest
Ask to know God in fact and form,
Live each query with curious heart;
Begin to board vast divine norms,
Explore and see your field and art;
Reach to know more when ideas ground,
Turn upside down theories that spring.
Expound the core in practice sound,
Inch sceptic frown where fancy flings;
Nurture and heed quantum physics,
Sense profound joy in seeking truth;
Treat and succeed maths sure critique,
Extract glimpsed ploys that reveal proof;
Induce bold pact to forge new trends,
Note brilliant tracts that insight sends.
Leon Enriquez
01 May 2015
Singapore
The moment you get a blank page near your eyes
Fill it with as many stars as you can
Bring them out from your river and crimson clay
At play inside your land and sea
This is the first lesson I was taught by good earth
That has helped me a lot towards
Survival with delight from the sounds and colours
Not possible to buy with dollars
Ask why and how at every step you take forward
Not faith but reason always be after
Be sceptic and explore every sun moon and star
And enjoy the dance of intellect
Was the second lesson I learnt all along the road
From the air and water I came across
As I grew up with my changing world around me
Changing me too thereby everyday
A discovery of doors and windows toward beauty
Lend your hand to one who needs it
Kindle at least a dim glow in the dark for some eyes
Draw out some thorn from a flower
This I learnt from the path I traveled inhaling in joy
The aroma of soil brick and dust
While the first two always desired me up above for your stars
The passion of holding your hand kept me close to your river
_______________________________________________________
12/02/2017
Nothing prepares a heart for the first glance,
None other than the heart of a lover seeing another,
No verse can contain the chemistry exchanged
Between the two hearts brought by chance.
No raging war can fight off the fires that ignite,
That glorious moment the first touch of a hand is felt,
No ballad can capture the essence that flows
Between two bodies embracing all the night.
No sceptic doubts the passion that overflows,
When anatomies collide in a long love-making dance,
No sonnet can comprehend the love exuding
Between two lovers craving a love that grows.
No cynic can criticise the heat felt in each kiss,
Shared as a sign of pure love & affection like no other,
No quatrain can express the ultimate promise
Between two souls to remain as one in utter bliss.
Nothing can ever bring asunder God’s mighty work,
That bringeth forth the rose and the eagle destined together,
No force roaming Earth known or unknown stands
Between two hearts blessed as the Master’s artwork.
It was your call
If you did call
I would have been home
I would have not
Those minutes, That time
We would have talk
We would have walk
Now where I am
Now I am lost
Lost inside your heart
Let this heat pass your heart
Let it pass the heart
You will shine bright
You shall be my light
Shine, shine brighter
So that doubters will stop
Never again will they be sceptic
Never again will these feelings stop
A feeling that makes flowers glow
A feeling of happy future
Shall I call you;
Nor wait for you
Wait for you to call
Wait till I stop thinking
The thoughts of you
The truth about our dream
I usta be beautiful ,honest and full of life
but that candle burned out real quick
and the old me is outa sight
my trust has withered away to nothing and it makes my hair fall out
My bones are sore and dull,
trying not to snap then crumble to peices and blend with the earth
My face has started to wrinkle though im still young
My mind is An Angry sceptic watching from the backround ready to pounce
My soul has been auctioned off to hell years in the past
This world has taken a loving ,kind gentle soul
and beat and molded her into
a common bitter biotch
my world crumbles to ash
and i am gone
crusted to the core of the earth
and im just living on a usta be
becuase you all have
killed the genuine me