Best Scrutinised Poems
IF I RULED THE RED CROSS
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
many changes I would make
It would be required
that our Movement is understood
By everyone without excuses.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
Every activity is scrutinised
Before they'll be organised
By the principles that are recognised
Be indictable not to be prized
To preserve my Independence from being Paralysed.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
Nobody will misuse the emblems
No one will violate the principles
Everyone will follow the due protocols
Anything that's wrong
Shall always be wrong
No matter who does it.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
The emblem shall be Red Cross
Never would our documents
Be printed in Black Cross
Anybody found wanting
Will have their faces crushing
In the ocean of red crossing.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
I would require
every volunteer to love each other
as a sister or a brother
and care for those suffering
from the pains of illness
By giving my Voluntary Service
Without expecting kind gesture in reverse.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
I would want it to be
a happier and more loving place
of lasting peace
There would be no wars,
no hurt in anyone’s life
Life would be long
and held with respect.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
The rules of war
Shall always be a law
The Geneva Conventions
Would be respected
By every soldier as expected.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
I would be open to criticism
Refrain from nepotism
Desist from individualism
Discourage sectionalism
And embrace unionism.
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
this is what I would require,
but sadly I do not
and my dreams are just dreams
of a place we call tranquillity
Where we preach Impartiality
Sing the song of Neutrality.
However,
If I Ruled the Red Cross,
I would try to make tranquillity
To spread the power of Humanity
To cherish the strength of Unity
Everywhere for everyone is Universality
Into our own reality.
©Marabi Amfaal Hydara
The Humanitarian Poet
This free verse was written from an agnostic point of view
so may appear biased, against organised religions
I assure you this is not my intention, and it is simply a poem
For the record, I have told lies in the past, and still do occasionally
The tannoy operator
And so it came to pass at a certain time in human history
the greatest illuminati in civilisation are called together
with only one question to solve
IS THERE ONE TRUE GOD!
Physicists, philosophers, professors, sit round an enormous table
No religious leaders where invited,
as they are deemed to be extremely prejudiced,
Besides they already believe in many relevant Gods
depending on their denomination and orientation,
Stern faces stare across the table at each other
For this matter is to be taken, with the utmost gravitas,
All known religious texts are brought in, and piled high on the table,
“Search the evidence” echoes over a tannoy system
All the texts are studiously scrutinised, over the ensuing days
After which the great debate is due to begin in earnest,
But first a show of hands is called for, by the tannoy operator
and this question put to them,
“Have you found one true God”
but alas nobody raises a hand,
“Ok so let the great debate begin”
They all just look at each other, stand up shake hands,
leave the room, and go their separate ways
Unknown to these illuminati another conference had been called in secret
by the tannoy system operator
Only this time, it was between the various religious leaders,
Again after pouring over all the texts
the same question was put to them,
“Have you found one true God”
and sure to form, every one of them raise their hands
But then unbelievably stand up, and prepare to leave the room,
“You cannot go, without revealing who God is”
echoes from the tannoy
Just then a massive argument erupts, spilling over into fisticuffs
Indeed this status quo, has remained ever since.
By
David Kavanagh
Beauty's Beast.
Well I'm looking but I don't see.
A little here a little there
I even looked under the stair.
In the wardrobes and chest of drawers.
I even scrutinised the floors
but look I did and could not find
am I stupid, am I blind.
You say you left it by my chair.
Well I'm sorry to say it's just not there.
I'm flabbergasted to say the least
but I think your wrong Beauty,
there is no Beast.
How high the moon in comparison
To the depths in which I sink;
How black the nightfall garrison,
How black the thoughts I think.
In every niche I see her,
Every place I think I spy
Glimpses of something proximate
In peripheral white of the eye.
I seek with fevered staring,
I seek when more sedate,
And all the time comparing
Degrees of love and hate.
The searcher and his tether
Are bound so they are one,
Through endless shifts in weather,
Inclement skies and sun.
On desert plains and highways,
Through anguish and through bliss,
On crooked wasteland byways,
Or cold metropolis.
I microscope my mind,
My bare soul scrutinised,
For scraps of clues to find
Some answers symbolised.
The heart is driven weak
By all it left unsaid,
How long must someone seek
For something known as dead.
Yet search by force of will
Until all hope is gone,
And time is all to kill,
And travel travels on…
GLAMOUR
mores
shown off
ae moral
imperatives
symbolic
to its core s
emblematic
&superficial
a potential
put together
the spectaculare
scrutinised
embroidered
& paraded
insights
of the
passive
barely
visible
idealised
faces
brightened
loved caressed
to an
inner
perfection
People started running,
for buses, taxis, trains,
with umbrellas no defence,
against the wind and rain,
a drowned rat cycled past,
then disappeared down a lane,
when lightening flashed, I dashed,
hoping to dry out again.
I shot past the pub’s “welcome” sign,
“No Prams or Pushchairs Inside”,
then scrutinised the menu,
for something not micro’d or fried,
with my paper, pint, pasty, and peas,
I sat by the warm fireside,
waiting for the storm to pass,
and brighter weather outside.
“All their comings and their goings were so closely scrutinised
as the prosecution’s trump card was the evidence they prized.
Though the wily prosecutor gathered facts to build his case,
some old bushmen too were scheming and a plan was put in place.
“They were crafty, artful dodgers, who’d been slipped a quid their way,
and could see to it the evidence might somehow go astray.
The bold band then took advantage of the absence of the guard
for some twenty or so minutes and then broke into the yard.
“In the small hours of that morning they absconded with the stock
and the speed of the audacious theft had left police in shock.
These bold bushmen used a vehicle which, much to their delight,
lured the cattle through the darkened streets and quickly out of sight.
“All available policemen joined the search to find their trail,
but their roadblocks and sheer numbers proved to be of no avail.
Then at sunrise the black constable, a tracker of renown,
traced the mob out to the stockyards on the outskirts of the town.
“All the cattle had been slaughtered and not one ear could be seen
and a piece of hide was missing, where the owner’s brand had been.
Still the heads and hides were proof enough … or so the lawyers thought,
but the judge dismissed the evidence and threw it out of court.
I just sat there flabbergasted as the old bloke rose to go,
‘cause the way he’d told the story he was really in the know.
But he sensed I sought the obvious and said “I need a drink.”
Then he hobbled down the street away … and turned and gave a wink.
In the book Champagne Country, which explores the history of Roma and district, there is
a chapter on Bushranging. In part it discusses how the notorious Harry Redford was tried
in Roma, though found not guilty and also there was another account of an incident which
took place in 1952. A number of head of cattle being held as evidence in a cattle
duffing offence disappeared from the Police yards about two a.m. in the morning while
supposedly being under constant guard. The culprits were never apprehended. Years
later my wife’s dad, who went droving at the age of ten and a well known identity around
Roma, shed a little light on the subject. The above tale tells what took place. Certain
facts have been hidden to protect the guilty.
Rummage
If you must.
My presence here
Is based on trust
So dressed am I
In Summer svelte
Yet you're to check
My trousers belt;
I'm scanned
As if each cell is rogue
So scrutinised
Despite en vogue
I understand
Away from home
You check my
Hydrocortisone;
The lotion for
My perfect tan
Or salve for lips
To kiss this man
Accept, do I
My gooey three
Could form a plan
For bomb plot spree
A victim
Of mis-communication
Disturbing transport's
Destination
Ungroomed
Is how my luggage ends
While protection
Of the sky depends
On just this task
For safety's sake
More pleasant if
A smile you'd break
Your focus can't be
All on me
Perhaps you're wondering
"What's for tea?"..
Or hoping soon
To get away
To pack for your own
Holiday
So here's my wish
For you to find
Credentials
Of a different kind
As poke and prod
Display and sort
Where discretion is
A last resort
So one day you may
Understand
In travel
To another land
Exposure
To some inner delving
Though required, it may be
Disconcerting
I M M E N S E C O N D E N S E D
I Instructed by a plot, broken into paltry portion
M Mauled into small, mammoth to screaming speck
M Mountain range cramped, meandering cancelled
E Elements of concept squashed into essence
N No word left unchecked, numerous adaptations
S Scrutinised, all adjacent scoured thoroughly
E Erraditacate unnecessary words, edit again
C Captivate from word one, add an anomaly
O Owe the audience pleasure, build their trust
N Never accept the standard, leave cliche alone
D Dive into the character's psyche, dig their dirt
E Employing research makes validity emerge
N Nullify nonsense inclusions, nudge away distractions
S Set up captured fast in short form, stir in surprise
E Every line moves story forward, each essential
D Diagnose end point, not long form done and dusted
No one would have believed in the early years of the 21st century that English lives were being culled by evil powers from the timeless worlds of hell. (No’ 10)
No one would have dreamed that they were being scrutinised by someone who treats us like we’re a disease that swarm and multiply in the inner cities.
Yet somewhere in the gulfs of hell, minds immeasurably more evil than ours regarded our lives with such disdain and slowly and surely drew their plans against us!
The silence hurt
The empty hours
Aching to be filled
With meaningful activity
With encouraging words
The office abandoned
The empty desks
Unread bookcases
Files to be scrutinised
Would things ever revert?
The hubbub of colleagues
The banter in the corridor
The incidental exchange of ideas
The shared insights on the whiteboard
The feeling of team
A form of family
All a distant memory
Not a worthy competitor
Not a godforsaken war
Not a foreign power
But an infinitesimally small
Invisible enemy
Out of nowhere
Has changed everything
Causing a revolution
In the path of evolution
Economy thwarted
Jobs lost
Education abandoned
Caught us all by surprise
Made us hunker in our homes
Afraid to come out
Hiding behind screens
Hiding behind masks
Scrubbing hands religiously
Avoiding those we hold dear
Each interpreting the guidelines differently
Applying tailored logic
Trust breached
Will life ever return to where it was?
awareness self aware
of dark veils of ignorance
shrouding our consciousness
rotates polarity of sentience
to view inner luminescence
the offered enablement
seen by periscope vision
is then scrutinised by ego
by jaundiced perception
in dimmed colouration
once baton of awareness
shifts into the void internal
we must rest our lower mind
trusting cognition spherical
to behold God’s miracle
for detachment complete
let us celebrate our delusion
resting our head at His feet
in continuum of meditation
heart radiant in elation
looking around in wonder
nestled in quiet contentment
bliss in-pours as vibrant thunder
as we view life in astonishment
delighting in soul unfoldment
17-September-2021
A crack will appear, a hole will grow
The truth will out just so you know
Many decades of men try to hide their crimes
Some are so conceited and up themselves that they even think that they can beat time.
But while they spaff the truth and live on lies
People find new ways to crack their smile
The truth will out because for the nation it must
Too many of us dead, too many of us lost
The anguish, pain and sorrow of so many out there
We will not let the truth be buried to compound that despair.
The truth will out.
Their lies will be scrutinised.
They think that we are nothing but fools who fall for lies.
But this is above politics, here there are few rules for us and them
The truth will out and then the nation will stop and stare
With eyes of anger and raging glare.
Our people have differences yes, but when the hammer falls
When we see the tears of our people who have lost it all
Hear of stories of our children dying alone in fear
Don’t think that we’ll forget who’s responsible for a nations tears.
Our bodies were celebrities, before we knew fame
Privacy was a luxury, stolen from our innocence,
Our curves measured, scrutinised by envy,
Scales became friends without the empathy,
Put under a microscope, our bodies criticised for growing,
A black girls body, becomes front page news -
The buzzword they religiously used, ‘fast’ as if it were choice
Shamed for being curvy, yet paying for our shape to be replicated,
They instil hate, to make us shrink -
Just for them to showcase the bodies they claim to ‘hate’
Stealing credit, and robbing the spotlight
The aim of their game, was to install shame -
To feel better, for not being naturally shaped
Paper reviews and media highlights,
No protection, just unwanted exposure,
Contracts signed without our permission,
To showcase our bodies, like we are caged animals
Turned into a circus, to point and laugh at,
To hide the fact, that they wish they were black,
Their skin green, with the envy of our blackness -
Projecting hate in disguise of jealousy,
Trapped in a state of constant sadness,
For not living up to an image they worked hard to perfect
Our bodies, were just caught in the crossfires of their anger
Our ancient fathers had it easy.
Every now and again God would appear
To one of them on top of a mountain, in a dream,
Or what would seem to be a burning bush.
He would tell them where they went wrong
(which button to push)
Give them a set of instructions.
Then, presto! Away they’d go
And things would also go right for a while,
Until the instructions became obsolete.
Meanwhile, they would be scrutinised
And revised by God, and a new set provided.
Neat! In the Old Testament this was standard,
Now we come to the New: not so for us.
We have to formulate our own instructions,
Perform our own miracles,
By trial and experiment,
By logic or presentiment.
We hope, we fumble and grope
And often (but not often enough)
We discover a missing fragment
Of the Seventh or Tenth Commandment
(only a fragment, mind)
While the First Commandment,
Although we search, we cannot find.
Someday perhaps,
On a slide, looking down a microscope,
One of the laboratory chaps or some old bod
Gazing at the heavens through a telescope,
Might just catch a glimpse of God.