Best Scholar Poems
I walked into Dad's study and looked around
A wooden bull with ivory tusks stood its ground
a German Bayonet lay before lines of books, and
On the wall was an olde map of the holy land
Behind a schooner with three proud masts,
Lay volumes of worlds, of futures and pasts—
Palestine before the Hebrews, a Rhodesia Guide
Three Deserts, by Jarvis, hard to lift, I tried.
The Golden Bough and The Struggle for Greece
The Revolt of the Masses, The Golden Fleece
The Lost Possessions of England, Leviathan
The Firmament of Time, and Darwin's Descent of Man
Stonehenge, The Heathens, The 30 years war
Each topic a window, each book a door
An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, then On Tyranny
The Wealth of Nations, Jewish Confederates, A Goodly Tree,
The Medieval Village, Capitalism and the Jews
Fred Bastiat, Thomas Sowell, Dad had free market views
Texts of Geography, that was his trade
Shelf by shelf, in a proud parade.
I can't put my finger on why, I feel a sad chord
For knowledge should be its own reward
On much of this knowledge the world turned the page—
His room remains—his shrine, his stage.
Coercive Persuasion, On Aggression — much more to the list,
And framed on the wall, the lives that persist:
There's how Mom used to be, full of interests, just like him
I step into those hard streets; the world starts to spin.
At age of 26, Rohith Vemula
Died, cold murdered, homicide
Left his legacy of fight
Against atrocious tide
Of mislaid humanity
Death too wonders,
What killed him tender?
Injustice if condemned,
I too would have delayed
Avoided brazen condolences
Perpetrators of this heinous act
Unfazed by a scholars death
Like Vultures on corpse
Alas! they don’t realize
His thoughts will survive eternity
Transcending all forms of inequality
In the sea of inhumanity
Guiding light for many
"Rohith" a new star is born, for world to see
And salute its immortality
..raHUL
THE DISTRACTED SCHOLAR
Across the page in gothic script
Your clever hand has made a word
It gently sits upon my ripped
Peace like a singing bird
The word is proof you’re in the world -
I touch the page, it whispers faintly
With your voice, when the questions hurled
Against what you said was stone quaintly
Dead, when life itself was resurrection -
Or rather: You are at the edge of my dream
Waving to me like a mood – like the confection
Of deeds I uttered as if the lip of seem
Were nothing. Why trouble you with this?
- you have written on the page your kiss.
By Rosemarie Rowley
A scholarly man of numbers,
when confronted said, “Chance be gone!
He who believes the lie slumbers.”
A scholarly man of numbers
challenges the mind that lumbers.
“Probability is the brawn!”
A scholarly man of numbers,
when confronted said “Chance be gone!”
"Pack the chairs,no souls will be entertained here",
Politics is stealing the future of scholars,
The faith is rather picking blemishes from religious pillars,
Can't make it plain to them of my changed mind,
Grew up along the coast,
Education wasn't a key boast,
Chasing money and abiding to words from our illiterate parents,
"Hey,...if you refuse to go fishing,no food for you today",fear really got itself filled us with adherents,
The punishment comes always with fatality,
What is known to be risky,we see it to be easy,
Trained with marshal laws,...and it's the powerful canes form masters in the halls,
Privileged men went ahead to acquire knowledge,because they had all it carried,
Knew what is meant by a treasure buried,
Fought tediously to overthrow the whiteman ruling over their integrity,
When nothing was induced much into us,eyes were opened to plenty,
Disappeared from home to where no man ever had an idea about,
Saved by a richman but lonely hunter mouse ,
Impacted into me in-depth understanding,
Showed me the realities of life;formal education without a payment,
"God bless his hidden soul",
Returned after so many years,
"Life is now precious and exerting greatness of me,
Society wasn't able to exercise recognition of who I am,
But yet still,I found my childhood friends fighting for success with grey hair",he noted well,
Expression on their faces proves their lost in the middle of nowhere,
Hailing his superiority among them,he was appointed as the chief advisors brain,
So many opportunities he gained,
His life was a breakthrough to the land he was born to cater,
He is a refined gold within a polluted water,
Inculcated intelligence into his fellow people scoop,
Few took it wholeheartedly;they had eyes for pride so they've made it in a bloom,
Politics practically went about chewing the learned knowledge as strict,
Coping with internal and external institutions,he raised a fine district,
But,his heart never desired for a truth;
What were deceptions to uproot?
Helmet of glory,
Passion for God plays the background of his officialdom,
Only blink of eyes taking a yawn,religion stole his referendum.
Walk unpacified strides gently down the way
Moves unpredescented glides gently for the foray
Eyes locked,gaze in a lustful guise
Black gentility melange smiling eyes with a touch of topaz
Fingers tiny in a sexy set unison of a kind
Beautifully and wonderfully made
Longing to disappear
Flee with lips spitting "hi's"
The golden turn,smile of an angel
Oh,what a beauty Monalisa would chide from
Ravishingly raw wound with strewn muscles
Drew me closer than I ever thought
My erudite scholar won't you read me?
Read me like your long long array of books
Shelved and stashed away in places you alone can reach
I noticed you from go...
The day the mountain came to Mohammed
Ever,ever fresh in memory for keeps
As I'm carefully left alone to sort out
The left over of my thoughts
Would I ever let go of you?
I wonder
Finding acquaintance with women
has put me on a wild-goose chase,
making my mind so water-logged
with gross and unbearable lack of confidence.
Your presence has cancelled these memories
and caused me into an acute Amnesia,
remarkably stimulating me
to attempt an emotional brinkmanship.
You are the center of my personal project
but I end up being the research specimen.
Your first impression goes contrary
to your personality brochure.
My heart has toiled to be different,
coming close with rhythms of a calypso.
Your humble attention
is a good converter of wishful thinking
to reality, witnessed by the consensus
of hormones emanating from both sides
and evident by the glamorous
book-length positivity from your visage.
Having you face to face alone is a huge vicissitude
a body so much younger than the mind,
preserved like a hidden albumen in boiled egg
and your nude when covered in silky blankets
presents like newly made shawama.
I am in love with you, my sunshine,
vouchsafe your heart to me please.
I’m not ambivalent; I’ve long given you my keys
and to another, my life isn’t capacious
so accept my blank cheque, sign and cement this blessing
stamped with my loyalty, faithfulness and love.
He kneels before his beloved Queen,
savoring all her fair majesty,
as she waits upon her
pillowed throne
Lost amidst his deep intentions,
he offers up her praises,
as only one who's
born to pleasing, can
If the turn of the century was more then a wait would you wake
morning after morning like story of a teller hats off to a dean,
If inspiration was more then photo like the passing of time how could one tell the engrave of not one put twp love story I say just wave,
If fortune was more then a hat to a gamble a sea for a sea port a mountain to a bike then what would be the up heel battle,
Jokes and scars could all decided the making of a man.
You take the road I never had taken before,
a lock set with no keys only for two endless doors,
Grasses a withering in the wind and the rain,
a breath left short of a loves unsober insane,
for my hands in my fortune and I ran from mt fame,
if you are my hero then make me see,
what is left of your heartless glory that stands before me,
as painful as this love with a sting like a bee,
for dying wishes of this lady that dwell in the sea,
what's luster of a tale as tall and so shy
the price for the journey that left me to die,
a secret so cold,
to when we ask why,
from the touch of the man that fell from the sky.
There in little tidings packed in ribbon,
among the oleander I set beside my notes,
she sung no as well as no can be said,
or sung, with wording I can never reproduce.
The parcel with its ribbon, an honest thing,
undoubtedly, did not know itself and its
long words, but me
am all creation from cell to symbol
obstructed by its very gaze, held a hand
I do not own, nor wish I did and said no,
sweetly as perfume haunts the fleeting scent of more.
No; no bell to toll, no Faerie land awaits,
the eglantine is paper thin and folded
in a page beside the oleander.
The tales, all Chaucer, Joyce, Dorsey,
Keats, swim with the shelved shore of mind for comfort
until, like all good eventuals
I am with her no, a bottomless no,
sent with ribbon and retracted lips.
Everything I feel can be summed up in words.
ISIS VS CVILIZATION
A brute,a killer
Rapist, burnt thousands,has died
To many, tears fall
English Haiku
October 29, 2019
WAPO- reference to Jeff Bezos'
Newspaper, the Washington Post.
Males have always made it easy for me to veto
either by words or actions or both.
You started so altruistic and added a brainless flare,
I’ve never imagined one on goggles with such virility
with books and tie, making his swagger uniquely swanky.
This dissertation will prove interesting and worthy
as you plant in my isolated garden,
so many Chamomiles and exotic plants
making me forget the number of times
my emotions have been subjected to an Ambulance.
Your shawama description
blew up a vehicle from my laughter
yet flows with sincerity, grace and caliber.
You, on sweaty tight singlet
and pelvic hugging boxers, on the other hand
presents like a delicious volauvent.
Your heart speaks innocently
in a thick romantic brogue.
I’ve enjoyed the words coming out of it
which are more than mere blandishments.
I’ll hold onto them and carry your actions
like a gold-plated Candelabra.
My heart is in great amity with yours
and its acceptance, totally of its own volition
despite my ‘Yes’ being a cataclysmic event.
I’ve long signed the blank cheque
already hoping for ante-natal sessions by your own doing.
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
WITH A BIBLE IN HER HAND.
SHE DID AN AWFUL LOT OF PRAYING,
FOR HER FELLOW MAN.
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
AND SHE KNEW THAT BIBLE WELL.
SHE DID HER BEST AND PRAYED EACH DAY,
TO KEEP ME OUT OF HELL.
THE NEIGHBORS CALLED HE RPREACHER GIRL,
TO ME SHE WAS GRANDMA.
THE MOST PEACEFUL LOOKING WOMAN,
THAT I EVER SAW.
HER SMILE WOULD LIGHT THE DARKEST NIGHT,
WHEN SHE WOULD TURN IT ON.
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING,
THE WEAK BECAME THE STRONG.
THE POWER OF THE HOLY GHOST
WAS WRITTEN ON HER FACE,
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING
THE DEVIL LEFT THE PLACE.
A LUMP IS GROWING IN MY THROAT,
AS I SAY THESE WORDS TO YOU.
BUT I SWEAR BY ALL THAT’S HOLY
EACH WORD I SAY IS TRUE.
I WISH THAT I COULD SAY THE WORDS,
MY GRANDMA SAID TO ME.
AS I STAND HERE AT HER FUNERAL,
AND GIVE THIS EULOGY………….
”SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE”
>>
I paint pictures with words.
the year of the Corona Shutdown & "Police Knee on his Neck"
saw the death of beloved pastor & teacher
who suffered a stroke at 75, before teaching the lesson -
e did get to teach, after the stroke (MIRACLE, aleluia):
"THE Christian God does not say: Come as U are ...
Or that "I, God, have unconditional love for all!" -
Not a popular messages, but biblical
I say by inference, Derek Chauvin is NOT a son of God,
The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob-Israel!
David Pawson challenged us all
To find any verses in the Bible saying:
"Come as you are ... I accept all with unconditional love"
No a Covenant God has requirements ... to walk humbly, love mercy
(Read Isaiah and Micah, among others, or even John 3:16, "repent")