Best Self Sufficient Poems
It's my created courthouse
The jury's reached a verdict
A sentence of familiar course
Against the criminally virgin
Guilty by association
I stand to face my trial
Innocent of all my charges
Accused by my empire
Out of seventy-two wishes
I've got one left
A hunger for escape grows
On an open shelf
Surrounded by my story
I have lost my soul
Upon an open world's edge
And endless and lonely road
It's my created jailhouse
A self-sufficient cell hall
Not a single bar in sight
Just cells of open gray-walls
Imprisoned by my own delusions
In cell one on dead block
With broken bones and dying faith
An executed man begins to walk
Out of seventy-two wishes
I've got one left
A hunger for escape grows
On an open shelf
Surrounded by my story
I have lost my own soul
Upon an open world's edge
And endless and lonely road
It's my created world
It's my created plague
It's my created punishment
For my created hate
It's my created nightmare
In my created sleep
It's my created six foot hole
Which was dug for only me
Pretty, lovely,
Beautiful, Stunning
I am woman,
Fear me!
Sassy, saucy,
Feisty, spunky
I am Woman,
Fear me!
Smart, intelligent,
Bright, clever
I am Woman,
Fear me!
Independent, free,
Autonomous, Self-sufficient
I am Woman,
Fear me!
Fear me because I am:
Pretty, sassy, smart, independent!
Fear me because these things
Are a danger mix and explosive combination
Fear me because one day
You'll have to answer to me.
Fear me because soon you'll look up
For advice and I'll be the face there.
Fear me because to you
Women should have no power.
Fear me because to me
I will have more power than you.
I am a woman,
Fear me!
Fear me!
I am a Woman!
It took time for the soldier to realize,
that no one was truly self-sufficient,
after the raids and the bombings, hunger materialized,
and life seemed insufficient,
the villagers took refuge in a form of weakness,
as they watched their government fail,
and their lives sail,
unable to ask for any kind of help or guidance,
because of their own blood trail,
left by strangers in their land,
as most of these bystanders
become prisoners to a foreign command,
these thoughts flashed through the soldiers head,
as he walked around the countless dead,
he fought so many wars and won,
and he knew when another war starts,
they’ll take his son,
he gazed at the sleeping form of an old woman,
wrapped in a filthy sheet,
as she rocked nervously on the side of the street,
and small children huddled together,
and it appeared they haven’t had a bite to eat,
they simply watched and waited,
and for the most part,
that’s what the soldier hated,
these sights tugged at his heart,
but he was just following the chains of command,
there were whispered exchanges,
but he knew God would somehow understand.
Earth's
magnificent
bounties
reaching
across
continents,
Igniting
natural
growth.
Erasing
all
relevance
to
humanity.
* We should embrace earth, for it can thrive without us, whereas we are not so self sufficient.
July 08, 2014
Contest: Acrostic 1 in 4
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
The Many Ways God Speaks To Us
There are many ways God’s seeking
To make Himself known.
But is man listening and looking
To understand Nature’s revealing crown.
It talks to our human senses
Every waking moment of the day.
And in the night so deep and dark,
His starry heavens come into play.
In the smile of a new born baby
And those tiny hands so sweet,
God shows us His creation glory
Our own image to repeat.
In Spring it is the flowers
And their aromatic perfume;
The lambs frisking with each other;
Birds and their babies singing the same tune.
In the lakes and babbling brooks
He speaks to us as well.
Full of fish and waterfalls—
Many ignored stories to tell.
The wind whispering through the trees
But never can be seen;
Sways the tallest of the forest;
Then disappears like a dream.
We see Him in the thunder storm
And in lightning bolts so bright.
They light up His majestic heavens,
Even in the darkest night.
In the white snow of winter,
When those flakes begin to fall,
Gently in their uniqueness
They rest to cover one and all.
If we would but look and listen
To see God’s many ways
Of teaching us precious lessons
Of obedience and praise.
Stars in their trackless courses
Follow their appointed place and time.
Why does man think he’s so different;
Self-sufficient, yet needing the Divine?
The many ways God speaks to us
Are far too many to name.
How can anyone say, “There’s no God”,
Such blindness should be put to shame.
God’s creation is all around us
In the sun, moon, stars and sea;
In everything beautiful He’s created
That surrounds us lovingly.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012
www.maureenlefanue.com
Very Welcome Neighbors II
The Reticulated Woodpecker mates, made it through the winter……
…..offspring, one of each gender arrive with fanfare!
About one quarter the size of each parent, of course the female is the smaller bird…..Ohh, the splendor of the male sibling born with a complete fiery red-
crested head.
A set of a mini-mom and dad complete. Their parents hangout with them for weeks y
l
While they learn to f
And become self- sufficient.
The cozy nest they pecked open wide and filled with natures comforts the parents had prepared in the Winter atop a dying palm.
The lovely carved out safe-haven survived through the Spring…..compelled by instinct, the two Adult love-peckers go their own way…
…leaving their children behind in a familiar Patch of the woods with their home. p
o
t
The siblings have yet to stray too far. Gazing at the female as she searches A
what is left of the dead palm after the nest segment fell to the
Ground
easily snapping
off from all the soaking rains…
....The
palm now three quarters of its original height and rimmed with a rigid new opening.
I have my eyes on you two!
A man of few words, my father taught by example.
The best thing he showed me
was to set my standards high
and to be my own judge -
always modest never defiant or arrogant.
If something needed doing
I should do it without expecting praise -
self-satisfaction being the ultimate goal.
He taught me to set my sights high
and to be my own boss
no matter the circumstances –
to be fiercely independent
not count on anyone.
I learned to go about my business and be self-sufficient.
I did not do well in teams – like a bull in a china shop
I had my objectives and went at them as a loner.
I never saw it exactly that way
but I did get good at it to a fault.
One day, it was a rude awakening when
it dawned on me how I was doing things for people
and they were consistently ungrateful.
I knew the problem couldn’t completely be with them
My so-called modesty had become self-fulfilling servitude.
It finally registered that if people didn’t have to ask,
they didn’t have to say ‘thanks’.
And that never mattered to me until
I realized that they were in fact not thankful
And THAT was a whole different ball game.
I literally spent days if not weeks
stubbornly trying to unlearn and reprogram myself.
Tried to get it through my skull that
if people ASK for something,
or at least ADMIT they would appreciate something,
that’s when they might actually appreciate it
How cheap can people be -
what a warped world we live in.
For me, it was a hard lesson in human nature -
I was actually an enabler encouraging people
to take me for granted.
People really do like games
even the ones who say they hate them.
Admittedly it was late in life I learned this lesson
And I admit I often still choose to do things
without getting people to actually ask.
But at least I’m cognizant of my ways.
And admittedly when I do pause
and play the ‘asking’ game, it does pay off.
But I’m so unbelievably stubborn I don’t always
want to pay the price for their gratitude
so to this day, if I feel something needs to be done
I’ll just get it done.
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on April 25, 2018
Barefoot in the sand I walk the seashore, carefree
taking mental snapshots of you and me;
Living in the sanctuary of your natural agility
I am a womb in you, both beautiful and free.
When you pour me out my soul refreshes,
some say you are water but I say you are life.
Recaptured, I regain my sanity and dignity
and for this, I thank you water;
The seashores are quenched by your ebb and flow
and your eternal movements, are my Saving Grace;
You are self sufficient and unanimously rhythmed
and in your cadence even the mermaids rejoice,
as they dip their tails and siren your decree.
Oh sea, you are just a kiss away from me,
when I'm in your presence nothing in this world
matters, anymore.
In the shattered mirror of hollow empathy, I see fragments of myself drifting,
Like ash butterflies dancing in the cold wind of unspoken truth,
And their words—"I can't empathize"—are silver arrows piercing through
The illusory veil of superficial consolation, revealing the inner garden
Where I alone grow the cucumbers of wisdom, where I water the flowers of courage.
And I hear footsteps fading away down the corridor of memory, the steps of friends hurried
To their daily markets, to the Turkish dramas that swallow their evenings,
Leaving behind only the echo of a pat on the shoulder and a worn-out phrase
"Don't worry, it will all pass"—a devalued coin in the ATM of compassion,
While I remain here, in the fortress of self, counting my resources.
Ah, how strange this revelation—that in the absence of foreign comfort
I discover my own healing hands, my own wellspring of strength!
Like a tree finding water in its depths when the sky refuses to weep,
I learn to be self-sufficient, to measure my garden of limits with steady steps,
To cultivate my own remedies, to be my own sun and my own rain.
I no longer knock on foreign doors begging for understanding like a crust of bread,
But build from the bricks of imperfections a temple of maturity,
Where the echo of my steps resounds with fulfillment, not with a void to be filled,
Where each scar is a medal of self-sufficiency won in battle,
And where loneliness is no longer a fear, but a throne from which I contemplate my strength.
We had saved our precious stock of grandpa’s grape
prepared the ground and amended the soil.
After laying out the orchard, we planted cuttings with our own hands.
Fed the young vines with love and creek water
and waited for the work of the rain and sun
before giving birth to the wine.
To insure that his family would produce the best wine.
Grandpa, tho’ as straggly as his grape
cleared trees and topped them to admit the sun.
He would not purchase plants for his soil
and dug the trenches wider and accessed our water.
He was self sufficient and he propagated vines by his hand
We prevented winds from whipping vines out of hand
to best grow and mature the soul of our wine.
The vines followed the contour of steep site which brought the water.
The rows ran north and south to suit the grape - -
this presented light while drying and controlling the soil
allowing the plants to follow the eastern and western sun.
We placed much faith on the drying done by the sun.
We had one to backfill. We wished we had more willing hands.
We had two to dig holes, and one to hold the vine and tamp the soil,
as the fruit began to ripen to marry our precious wine.
A crew of four was used for setting the grape.
The Vines should not be sprinkled with too much water.
We made plans to prevent soil erosion and loss of water
to the harden the wood and expose it to rays of the sun.
The Niagra White and Riesling grape.
Both needed pruning and the waste hay cut our hands.
We made sure our methods were best for the wine.
They would mature late, even in warm soil.
We found that more humus was wanted by the soil.
Some magic was performed to deliver more water.
alas, for the reward of a not so remarkable wine.
Again the wait, the prayers, the morning dew and sun.
More work, more time, sweat and callused hands.
The next year we tried a grafted grape.
We had saved our precious stock of grandpa’s grape
prepared the ground and amended the soil.
After laying out the orchard, we planted cuttings with our own hands.
Fed the young vines with love and creek water
and waited for the work of the rain and sun
before giving birth to the wine.
Our final wine was surrendered by the sun.
We captured the prize from our water and our soil.
My hands, today, still stained with the color of the grape.
Turn if off!
I told myself
Are you behaving like an addict?
Do you have to read your emails, look on Facebook, tweet a few lines,
Play a game or two and while at work your lunchtime and breaks are
Filled with personal calls and surfing the web
Robots we are not
We are emotional intelligent beings living in a world that have diminished
Our attention with others to a text
Sure all of technology is a tool for making things more efficient
But are we so self sufficient that we miss the human element
By becoming deficient?
I see shoppers pass by others and never speak because they are engrossed
In conversations on their cell phones and bump into objects and fall into potholes because their attention is focused on cyberspace
Because of God’s grace
They weren’t hurt
But they certainly didn’t save face
I’ve learned to take a technology fast
At a certain time my cell phone and computers are off
And my television too
So that my personal interaction with others isn’t devalued
Stranded on the road, closed up tight in her shell
Too frightened to head out of the heavy traffic
I took the turtle home to make sure all was well.
She was hungry for she hadn’t eaten since a day
So I dug up four juicy earthworms and put in a bin
The first worm wiggled but the turtle didn’t prey.
We sat quietly and waited and waited and waited
Ants crawled across the pavement and we waited
Hummingbirds buzzed overhead and we waited.
Finally I noticed her eyes tracking a worm,
Slowly shifting her body in right direction
Snapped opened her jaws, picked up the worm
And gummed it to death as turtles lack teeth.
Was full after two worms, a bit in mouth like a cigar
Autism in turtles is a successful failure
Its shell, an amazing self-defense mechanism
Carry their homes and are always at home
Self sufficient mostly, long life, and endurance
Proving the proverb, “Slow and steady wins the race”.
** Inspired by a visit to Myrtle Beach State Park, SC (eastern box turtle
(Terrapene carolina carolina)
July 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
GOLDEN FLOWER
You are the sun that shines in the dark to the sightless souls
Your heart is brighter as the colors of life-yellow, orange and gold
You are the gemstones of priceless beyond Topaz and Amber-yes you are
Your presence, enlighten my soul and resurrect the dry bones and dead visions in me
You are a blossom and you blossom in season and out of season – watered by the Lord
Your incidence is EDEN-for the creator walks and works in you and through you
Your presence exhibits so much peace; joy and life- you are the Golden Flower to many
You are a born leader; creativity and innovation are at your core
You lead with determination and originality that is rooted self-confidence and individuality
You are aggressive and impatience with uncertainties and indecisive beings-people
Your life like creative art driven by passion and self-sufficient in achieving your desires
Your ideas and abilities attract special pollination from inserts and souls from all walks of life
Your happiness in life is rooted in you being true to yourself and your purpose – destiny
Your presence exhibits so much peace; joy and life- you are the Golden Flower to many
Marriages and families rejoice and celebrate in the beauty of your garden-Rose Flower
Your fragile-tender and caring heart draws us to the garden, your presence is refreshing
Your heart is the garden of rose flowers that never wither or dry against the heat of evil
Your are rooted in ever flowing streams of water of God-your love is ever flowing in pain or joy
People often celebrate your fruits without acknowledging you-yet your fruits/love never withers
Hurt cannot live in you because healing and love overflows out your heart daily – the beauty
Your presence exhibits so much peace; joy and life- you are the Golden Flower to many
From Anthony Ngabwe
(Tony The Poet@2014)
Once isolated from the world
In tune with nature
Living day to day
Self sufficient
Thrust into a globalized world
New opportunities, open markets
Technological advances
Loss of control
Terrrorism
Disease
The pace of life quickens
Daylight hours changed
Individualism and accumulation
Destabilizing forces
Confusion, vulnerability
Our sense of wonder lost
Family structures undermined
Dependent on remittances
Change laps island shores
From all directions
East and west; old and new;
Modernity and tradition
Fragments of culture scattered
Like pieces of a puzzle
Understood only when the last piece
Is put in place
Before I die, a million tears will crystallize.
Solid as sodium chloride, holding my breath I visualize.
Going through my journey, I am thankful for the life before me.
Appreciation and recognition I rise in value and price, awareness of my life purpose.
It was all destine, and predetermine.
Before I die, I will realize all of my self-pride.
I will look forward to the future, whatever it shall be I will succeed.
I will have the strength when I begin to feel weak, and I will stand when my knees buckle to the ground before me.
I will learn to rise when I fall.
As long as I have breath in me, I know it will not be for long.
I will learn to love myself, and be true to myself.
Listen to my inner voice because it will never stir me wrong.
Before I die, I will vocalize my pain inside.
Learn to forgive as I begin to live again.
To be self-sufficient and embrace, independents particularly in patience therefore without any complaining.
Before I die, I will have endurance for my world of descendants.
I will learn to love a million ways, as I let my spirit gravitate.
Before I die, I will lay awake as my heart pulsates.
As my life flashes before my eyes, my body permanently starts to indefinitely, paralyze.
Before I die, my eyes again crystallized.