Best Seldom Poems
The subtle scent of lilacs rides the breeze.
Cascading flowers brighten in sun’s sheen.
On crisp cool nights there rarely is a freeze.
And autumn leaves seem always to be green.
As moonlight changes daylight’s atmosphere,
Big cats and fox roam through the forest fair.
The starlight sparkles bright when nights are clear,
While families inside say night-time prayers –
When daybreak falls, the children go to school.
The bus ride quickly drives through rural routes.
Adults, then, go to work; some people rule!
The pecking orders known since kids were sprouts.
If freedoms remain free, it’s no guesswork.
Small towns down south will never go berserk.
12/30/2016
Written for Silent One’s Contest: A Sonnet About Where You Live.
This poem is about Live Oak, Florida, U.S.A.
For their personal witty fun
I’d been traumatized by my son(s).
Years and years they've said to me,
Let your other boys go free.
At my age I could see no point,
swinging with breezes below a joint.
Then the appendectomy came and went,
“Tighty Whiteys” made their last dent.
Stitches and gauze now long gone,
wouldn’t you know it before too long…
I did become hmm…Let’s see,
home of the brave and the free.
Wearing reminders of decisions I’ve made,
Now I’m a boxer but not by trade.
When I leave my home and family
I take my leave feeling quite happily.
These ain’t lies. Lie, lie, lie, lie, la lie!
*Inspired by an appendectomy and Simon and Garfunkle
nothing like a good cry
you know you got it right
the ammonia filling your nose
you know you got it might
no wimps no tears just a total deluge
a cleanse of heart to meet no harm
A seldom desired spice
Upon a dusty, remote shelf, lies in wait a spice
to season the meals of your days, your nights
It seems deprivation is the preferred taste
your palate lives its hours, while this spice
hovers over its dreams and your time – lost !
Spice is the light, is the life in ones journey.
Each meal should be sprinkled bountifully
with the essence of this self-imprisoned spice
Who !. - with wild abandon – wants to lay upon
your days, your nights, your hours, with his rainbow
coloured flakes, essences, to relieve, to brighten,
to add flavours to your meals – that your palate
may not - ever – have tasted or has long forgotten.
Spice is the light, is the life in ones journey.
Not one moment should be denied, be lost to eternity.
B. J. “A” 2
September 23rd 2006
This is the best of all possible worlds so the sages say but I read the papers and watch t.v. everyday and things are seldom what they seem.
Those who pen and talk all day expound what we should think,feel and say. Shall we cower before those who fain authority.
In the dimming of the light I seem to have regained my inner sight.
With our zeal to conquer time and space we are told this will only benefit the human race but things are seldom what they seem.
We strike out with our tablets in hand no long able to converse face to face with our fellow man
And in every university all that is spoke of is diversity yet things are seldom what they seem for all those who flock are of similar means.
Our skin has become thin and easily bruised if we allow in our midst those with divergent views.
Thus I shed a tear at what we have become: thoughtless,mindless and numb.
We often accuse you, oh life,
For being a heartless and vicious reality
But seldom do we thank you
For endowing us with God's spirituality!
(C) Demetrios Trifiatis
23 November 2015
Why I Seldom Eat at Chick fil A
By Elton Camp
They once had relatively good stuff
Lately, their chicken’s rubbery & tough
Food that is fried is, for health, not best
Filled with sodium as many of the rest
The service is often tending to slow
So it’s not my favorite place to go
The owner’s “holy” attitude I also hate
Business & religion he should separate
The true Sabbath certainly is Saturday
Not on Sunday as he does wrongly say
Gay marriage I cannot really endorse
My views on others I don’t try to force
Many folks he has managed to alienate
Who refuse to eat food served with hate
He needs to learn what is or isn’t his concern
That way, a respectable name in business earn
Cry of the night is seldom heard
When ailing heart's silent tears fall,
Muffling sound of voices unheard
Trapping her behind callous wall.
When choice is stark, facing soul dark
Cry of the night is seldom heard
As dreams deferred squander the mark
And bawl of love remains interred.
Enduring pain, feelings are stirred,
If no one dares to sound alarm
Cry of the night is seldom heard--
Alone she bears impending harm.
As stone-cold beats silently moan,
Hurt by fear of bashing incurred
And thrashed by blows of someone known,
Cry of the night is seldom heard.
February 2, 2020
HM: Strand contest #680 by Brian Strand
Distant refrains poetry contest
Eight syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Sponsor: Joseph May
Seldom
Seldom,
So seldom does this word prevail;
How shall it seek you too?
Seldom is a spark renewed,
Ephemeral and divine it appears;
Its light seems certain to no purpose;
Like sparklers in the brain,
They thrive in numbers but exist
No longer than thought sublime;
Seldom do they stay,
They only drift and shine towards decay.
The Seldom way we walk
We walk upon a fine line of care
Of put myself out there and clinging to my share
, of like me like you, and love all living things
because they have feelings too
True?
That women hold us gently from the depths of their souls
and men reach out and touch our souls softly
That everything we feel is what we feel for those
They know its what I've chose
That it all comes from within
That when we tell , men and women that they are great and and they are good
With conviction we say that are words are to be believed
Because all we want to do is to give and to recieve
Once someone has totally invested in us
With faith in ourselves and in Jesus a strong belief we release back into the world the love
and care they have shown us
We pray along with hope that those who have loved us shall be loved and cared about in
return
and whats left is a little bit of fear that we use to patrol us not hurt ourseles or any other
living being
Seldom does the soul pause
knowing it may
through stillness dissolve
yet I am drawn
as Summer’s clarity cools
through brown
to succumb
inspired by the forest’s celebration of decay
to rest within the flame
beside the oak and maple
where there is no beauty
only color’s discreet
conspiracy with delight
The silence of the cynical still
Could certainly cut through the strangest steel,
The raging echo of the crying fear
Sinfully freezes up my tranquil fiery thrill.
(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.
Let me publish a book, I thought,
And soon His divine blessings sought.
Bless me God that it’s received well,
And in markets makes a marked spell.
Forget it, my innocent child,
He said, desist from dreaming wild.
If put on poetry sites’ stead,
Be content if some do get read.
You know, e’en I’ve been a failure—
A slight till today I endure.
See, I've been writing scores of fates,
Have ye seen one that appreciates?
I once wrote a mega poem—
My greatest spiritual emblem,
Gita, put on a pedestal,
Talked ‘bout, but who reads if at all?
As part of a greatest epic,
I thought it might easily click!
So, perish such a thought dear child,
Be cool, they’re safely isled and filed.
___________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |13.09.2019|
Topic: humour, god, fate, poem
Aniruddha Pathak
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Sir God,
It's me again,
You already know what I want to say,
But allow me put it this way,
Our genesis is different,
But the destiny is the same.
We all must rest,
We'll die and go to unknown land,
A place only known to the departed,
Not even the worldly majesties,
Will escape it.
Do not give me many years,
Like those of Methuselah,
I not need to be wrinkled,
And look like a beast,
I need not to be a burden,
When my time come,
Let it be a decent journey,
At an old age dear God,
When I'll have accomplished all,
The wants and desires in mind.
At a time I'll be giving blessings,
The time I'll have nothing to lose,
Nobody will have to wail,
For I'll have put it to a halt,
My gift of life.
Dear God,
Let it not be through an ailment,
Not a fatal accident,
Not a suicide nor a genocide,
Not even a lightning strike,
Let it be a decent journey.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk.
Amongst the mist were trees
rot, a lovely flower grew.
Dark skies found its moss,
were sun shine seldom knew.
Beauty waded through the bog
and found a wretched creature
there.
A cursed tormented soul , her
sight could hardly bare
Nothing more than April rain
washed a way the mud.
I realized then what I
concealed, was covered in her
blood.
A diamond in the rough I knew
could drain a rose porcelain
white.
On this day I pray at noon, that
her flower find some light.