Best Self Sustaining Poems
The Sun Rises- -The Moon Sets
Think of life, the cycle of
How radiation can support life, enough heat to
Ensure a stable self sustaining system.
Something like our RA, peasants producing
Under this celestial god. He may be dull at times, but
Never far from active.
Rising to all inhabitants.
Imitated by many, but none can capture
Something so surreal. For many hours
Everything thrives into productivity only to
Soon fade.
Telescoping images of you in the night
How warm is your glow soft blue white
Ever circling the world we call home
Master of revolution, elliptical, precise
Omnipresent, effervescence
Orb of the night, silent in flight
Never failing, glowing light
Shimmering beauty, through magnified eye
Emitting a wondrous, magnificent sight
Torched your surface, by meteor showers
Shine again tomorrow, I'm forever yours
This poem is written in the Acrostic style by father and son..
SUN written by son, MOON written by father
2009...........Jared Pickett and Richard Pickett
A span of questions fogs the mind of man.
Some famous thinkers wonder; is there God?
Was man formed by chance or by divine plan?
If not by God, the Bible is a fraud.
Yes, Big Bang Theory through men’s minds does scan.
They may look at the world, like Adam, awed.
But the soul inside of me screams out, shouts!
The heavens pout when science leaves God out.
The Genesis account tells all minimally.
Man’s creation took God seven days.
If God’s creation to you seems flaky,
Consider that account in diverse ways.
After God rested, Earth life was empty.
Book one of Genesis says seven days.
Confusion says, “Look, a contradiction!”
The faithful say, “Find the explanation.”
Day-one atomic parts were organized.
God’s energy… orderliness began.
In great wisdom light and dark were revised.
Thus, light waves, sound waves, no waves as per plan.
Day-two divisions, has man theorized?
The waters were divided; place began.
Oh great expanse where suns-stars would soon shine.
Small things, together, all workings divine –
Day-three was the day for the seeds and trees.
Every species received traits by God’s hand.
Combinations of genes since then proceeds,
Day-four set the stars in the skies as God planned.
Our Universe became at lightening speeds.
Big Bang explains it to the human strand.
The Genesis account once known minimally,
Curiosity sees maximally.
Day-five, the day for birds, beasts, and creatures,
The genes were created, but not yet formed.
Every being received unique features.
The Powers of Almighty through space stormed.
Day-six: man, woman, genetic rapture.
To God’s great wisdom, creation conformed.
By these thoughts, my faith was persuaded,
That scientific fact has the truth, aided.
Day Seven, the day of blessings and rest.
God looked upon his goodly creation.
It was self-sustaining, working its best.
All forces, features, and facts did function.
God had laid the foundation for man’s quest.
However there was still much to be done.
He rested, time passed; creations seasoned.
Is there a God? Yes, for I have reasoned.
Ó January 26, 2014
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: In the faraway! (Old/New)
Sponsored by Giorgio V. Motiff Philosophical
*Genesis Decoded: http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-
genesis-decoded
There is an emptiness
that knows another's emptiness
two voids that cannot be seen
the feeling of an abyss
darkness with no meaning
Existential Longings
for voices
that cannot be heard
a neverending anguish
that cannot be expressed in words
The beating of one's heart
reverberates the pain
There is no heartfelt joy
in endless
cosmic yearnings
Tears bring no relief
for these
gravitational longings
only the sun and moon and stars
earthly pain below
Two hearts, two bodies
one thread of infinite love
continental separation
joined only
by the heaven's above
twin souls wait helplessly
for their futures to unfold
they wait
to be joined forever
stars waiting to implode
Souls waiting for their destiny
waiting to be beloved
they wait
to burn inexorably
a combined self-sustaining sun.
(June 20, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Oh an ode to jenni mann
To write an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann
Would be good, and proper.
Fitting.
Fitting, not like the clothes your distant aunty gets you.
They never fit.
Ill-fitting
Unlike writing an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann.
Fitting.
When the plutonian shores of my heart wash asunder my sadness and heart-ache at your loss
I shall endeavour to beware the boars who gnash without remorse- they do make me cross
Their eyes filled with the darkness of the Forest of Dean
But who is the Dean? The Dean of a University? A cathedral perhaps?
Or is his name simply Dean Fitting?
Fitting.
We had weed cakes.
The amnesia induced seizure did not please ya
Nor did it ease ya into loving me
Perhaps if I had sherbet it'd be different.
Sherbet? or Sherbert? I'm not a gambling man
I shouldn't have left you in your seizure jenni, i shouldn't have left you
Fitting.
Now you're dead.
And there's no amount of sherbe(r)t in the world that can bring you back to my nest of sexual decadence
My quagmire of lust is brown and hollow - like an easter egg, only there is no joy here jenni.
There is no fun to be had without you, all I can now do is reminisce of sherbe(r)t, boars, seizures and ill-fitting clothes
I am stuck in a perpetual state of limbo, I failed to beware the burn, I am in an ever self-sustaining maelstrom of torment and sexual grief
F*ck
I am no longer,
Fitting.
The planet oxygen
Contained two constant
Continents called H,
Both covalently bonded,
Similar in shape, surviving
In a scheme far superior than
The disparity that dawned
Between them.
One believed in steam,
While the other fought for ice
To rule their tiny planet.
As time was spent and
Universes bent,
Forming self sustaining
Systems;
The rationale the
Over opinionated
Orbs realized was that,
Somewhere deep beyond
The matter that made
Them matter they
Couldn’t overlook
The reality that if they
Busted their bonds
And didn’t get along
And not coexist
Water wouldn’t subsist,
And existence for some
Would never, ever,
Even exist.
Submitted for Ad’s “What is civility to you?” contest
Where has all the water gone?
What is not poisoned is now in poor supply…
They call it “fracking,” a way of trapping
gas or oil for fuel to meet demands of energy.
Our water on this earth is the gift of life,
creating and sustaining it for all living forms
upon this wondrous self-sustaining world.
But technology…that is the world that
no other species knows about…
except for man…our demand
for fuel...the oil or gas, extracted in
this process of this fracking…cracking…
the earth below releases chemicals
into our precious flow of water there.
And in the process, we use up this
precious fluid in capturing our prize…even
in areas already stretched thin by drought.
The gift of knowledge…sometimes
we wonder if, in the balance of knowledge
and nature, it is perhaps not a gift at all…
for, in the end, the needs that our gifted
wisdom demands will upset the balance
that the endless force of nature commands.
Where has all the water gone?
What is not poisoned is now in poor supply.
The gift of knowledge?
The doom of greed.
Where has all the water gone?
Sandra M. Haight
~5th Place~
Contest: Global Poetry: Fracking's Effect on the Water Table.
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Judged 12/1/2014
Raw emotions
Churns like oceans
In my mind's eye
And my heart's cry...
Is left unheard again
Where have you been?
I will not worry
I will not hurry
I'm just concerned and I want the best for you
My ego of I'm-better-than-you is thrown out the window and front door for you too
Constructive criticism is what I need
I don't want your destructive put-downs
Humiliated as it already is...this engaging greed, I don't feed on, for it's not a good flower, but a bad weed
Don't give me demoralizing comments that gives me unhappy frowns
I earned the right
To have standards of being a positive poet wholeheartedly
I fight the good fight
To have the aptitude and ability to move on to other substantial things fortunately
We went through a De Ja Vu with a touch of Desperation
Hey who are you to say that I'm an exasperation?
I live to be a true role model inspiration
I sacrifice myself for others' sensation
"Live in the now"
Is an Incredible saying...without saying I'm just saying
Somehow I don't know how
To respond to my endless, foolish praying
Nobody cares about me...or at least it feels like it from so far away
I'm so upset because I want the spotlight when everyone else steals it from me today
I will be stronger than they'll ever know
I will go where the wicked wind will blow
I want to refrain from complaining
No more name calling...self-sustaining
Arrogant comments are not needed anywhere
Refrain from driving me insane or in utter despair
Even if it's just a hair...
Yet, you still don't care
Strikes me odd really that you are acting Real Nasty
You're something else, unfeeling and sassy
I'm not ready
It's difficult being me
I'm so unsteady
Felt this uncertainty
Throw me your confetti
Celebrate my downfall with me
I'm an overcooked spaghetti
The trash will accept me possibly
If I ran far away from yesterday,
I would compete with tomorrow
I'm in this race together with you
I will regain the strength that shines anew
Gideon in his high viz vest
Trying his best
To look like those
Who graft for work
Forgetting we have a long tradition
Of this in the North
He doesn’t pass for a man
Who could load a van with 2 by 4
So if he thinks he has fooled us
The answer is no
Gideon, just take your
High vis vest and go
Maggie’s little helper may do well to note
That the North has long since
Had a deep mistrust of you all
If you think we were fooled
By ‘Honest Dave’
The working man’s friend....think again
The pain still exists
From what the Tories did
Back in Maggie’s day
Destroying communities
Denying us a say
Removing our way of life
So Maggie could have her
Unchallenged way
The slow death of the North
Decades of us being poor
Underinvestment and being ignored
From whoever was behind
That Number 10 door
It breaks my heart
When I think of how it used to be
Complete with functioning families
Self-sustaining and working communities
But yet again we are stuck
With the new Tory Dream
Globalisation for all!!
Which destroys us further once more
My home town now looks like during the war
Displaced persons from all over the globe
With little work and nowhere to go
Left to cut our own throats
For low paid jobs
Which have no future at all
Bet you Tories thought
You’d dealt with us
In the North
Long since crippled
Without a voice
No longer a threat to you at all
But the EU Referendum
Gave Gideon and pals
Quite a shock
A kicking I hope
They never forget
Arrogantly thinking
Project Fear meant
The Tories would win again
Just as they want
But in light of the result
I would invite him to redefine
What his PR man said
That The Northern Powerhouse
Was just a good tag line
Anna Archichek
I see him across the
orbit,
Creating time in
mesmerizing circles,
Always so far from
me
Always so near.
We dance.
A lonely dance—
A tormenting dance,
Where we can never
touch
Nor; ever be apart.
The universe gave us
this gift,
Intertwining our
souls for an
eternity.
The universe gave us
this curse,
Extending the
longing over
lifetimes.
He pulls and I
follow.
He spins, and I
become dizzy—
Confused by his
nonchalance.
If he loves me, why
are we not closer?
If he doesn’t, why
is he still here?
Still, I follow…
My cold facade
revolving around his
light,
Hiding from the
universe,
A solemn expression
dug deep in my
surface.
He says we are
alike,
But I know enough to
know that it’s our
differences that
make us colorful.
His anger fuels,
It’s become a
self-sustaining
energy,
And I cringe
thinking of his rage
in the future,
Who will his words
hurt in the future?
He burns,
And I die.
Empty and lifeless.
Just let me die,
And free me from
this course.
He doesn’t know what
love is.
rhyme cause i want to
all about the thought
develop my delivery
summarize a plot
story telling chivalry
too many double shots
its my medium believe me
when i say id never stop
disguised in scenery
inspiration off top
i absorb to administer
interpretations caught
one with the universe
you'll be feeling what I got
i am art fall apart
freestyling as i rot
cracking open my melon
art like smellin crotch
mics will need killin
till im a petrified rock
fresher under pressure
mcs get coal in socks
not everybody gifted
knottin heads like dreadlocks
even ancients rip
trippin so rhythm was brought
self sustaining compain
brings cash like a crop
rhyming any language
so every word pops
im outa this atmosphere
yo, beam me up scott
writing how im feeling
albums to be dropped
blessings from lessons
living life has taught
shakepseare aint ****
competitions locked
everymother ****er raps
only one can be top
illest styles originally
the rest can eat a cock
innovate or mortality
every choice has a cost
poetry of the street
feed off the broth
mutli flavored labor
faulty haters wanna jock
jealous is another word
for liking how you talk
bring love to the crowd
followers will flock
you are what you eat
hope my words hit the spot
when all is said and done
we were all hip hop
A notion by the starry-eyed from the start:
“Follow the truth which lies in your heart.”
Call me cynical, say that my intentions are cruel in their casings.
Yet in the end, deny that it is the mind that perpetuates feelings.
Sentiment is never ending if one so chooses, and can be tyrannical in its allure.
Emotion is unrelenting, creating the very existence of human nature.
We pretend that people do the thoughtless based on a feeling,
yet our minds can change emotion within a split second by perceiving.
The images we see, the sounds we hear, the fragrances we smell,
the objects we touch, the tastes we absorb, and the stories they tell.
Our hearts are not self-functioning, their state is merely the result of contemplation.
As self-sustaining time journeys, the results overthrow notion.
What inspires this complex spiral of mind?
Music, discovery, revolutions formed by the brave and kind.
Be it an advantage or curse, this unique price we pay?
Does it make us different in any way?
For if we care, we destroy to thrive.
If we don’t, we lose ourselves, just staying alive.
So ponder, think, perceive, and muse.
In the end, our minds will with the dust fuse.
Stuck in an existence that you don't
belong
Why were you chosen for this time and
place
Look in the mirror you see a different
reflection
Can't even decide what makes you happy
Nothing but a sellout is what you are
Standing on the auction block to get the
top dollar
Striving to just fit in but your overwhelmed
with indecision
These feelings weigh so heavy in this
heart
Trying to find a section in this book with
which to restart
All eyes on you an example must be set
Though the pain and sadness you must
try to maintain
Stay focused stay strong words so easy
say
This reflection is you just own it and rise
to the task
Self sustaining your own sorrow doesn't
work for you
Remember the past just don't relive it
every day
The present is here and your loved ones
are near so just be thankful for what you
have
The future can be fruitful if you just trust in
yourself
Patience and diligence will bear you a
prosperous crop
Always keep in mind anyone can be on
top
This mirror is nothing more than a
reflection
It measures neither what you were or what
you will become but only what you are
now.
The stagnate machine planted firmly, rusted gears laboring to drudge along.
It does not function properly anymore; it has become obsolete.
The workers no longer need the machine to live their lives.
They can design a new system, built upon self-sustaining values.
It once labored greatly to support its work force. The machine now hinders the lives of the workers.
The workers grew so reliant upon the machine they thought they had become part of it, cogs in the system.
Now they realize more and more each day, that not only are their lives separate from the machine, without it they are more able to focus on the fundamental values of life.
The destiny in a stirred syrup. A two-string one.
Condensed, sticky and uncomfortably glued to a cause.
A mono in nature.
Like a skilled handyman,
with a must to-do space.
A shared space.
A shared controversy.
A stained cloth. And an unapologetic face.
I am not a math-pro. I hate numbers. And I don’t watch captain underpants.
I am a freelance interpreter,
where medical terms reach both male and female bodies,
In the same manner.
The office space is all about this. Equity.
Up roaring hands in overturning platform.
I wanted.
I pleaded.
I turned myself into a special spice
in competition of her ethical or non-ethical one.
My poetry is not an arrogant one.
A mere self-sustaining one.
To calm through the fiercest stormy nights. A mono.
Where she needs rejection in knowledge,
I earned in pristine.
But both empty,
folded beyond junkies.
An arrogant junkyard, leading our visions,
in seas, mountains and
with these very own material eyes.
C to C.
Looking up at all the lights that you can't appreciate
Among the city life I wonder:
What's out there; who's out there for me?
From what I do the thoughts remain in constant circulation.
From what I write will my life be revered or will it be viewed
As a man who struggled to persevere. The outlets in which
I drain my power are far from self-sustaining, and although
Straining, they jolt along. The truth behind his words
Is an authors saddest and most powerful story. His life; in relation
To all that surrounds him. His light; in all that's growing dim.
The complex written in small words as a reminder, not of spite,
But to remember life and what has been survived. An outward
Expression to set yourself free; hoping for understanding but never sympathy.