Best Serener Poems
Fields where the bondman’s toil
No more shall trench the soil,
Seem now to bask in a serener day;
The meadow-birds sing sweeter, and the airs
Of heaven with more caressing softness play,
Welcoming man to liberty like theirs.
A glory clothes the land from sea to sea,
For the great land and all its coasts are free.
From “The Death of Slavery” - Poem by William Cullen Bryant
On this August day unclouded and drenched by sun,
Millions gaze back down history’s road of red dirt
For a testimony in memory strong enough to assert
The four-century path of great wrong they had to run.
All men are created equal…that famous creed…
Spoke by the founders in bigotry and greed
To buy them a selfish liberty and us a silent grave,
To make narrow-minds reign and tolerance die,
And to raise their banner over the head of the slave,
Adding their mark of racism to God’s clear blue sky.
In our heart our souls await the Lord’s avenging day
And for the winds of heaven to waft and play.
Thank God for legs able to march four hundred years
And for arms strong enough to make the enemy flee.
We now plead by the Psalms of David to be free,
With words so grave as to not be eluded by ears.
No longer bewildered by the curse of Cain,
Undaunted we march with God’s justice to gain.
Our steps have caused the infringed land to quake,
As we roll on dreaming of our liberty to seize
A treasure that generations assayed to take,
Knowing deeply that nothing less will appease.
This four-century trek has mitigated our dread,
Preparing us to raise our banner over their head.
Though our wisdom can enable us to vilify injustice,
We must depend on God to defeat its monstrous sins--
For it is by His wisdom that the arc of justice bends,
And continue to show our faith for Him to trust us.
Four centuries we have called on God to break the chain
And return to us our strength and passion once again.
The day has come for us to stand and face the sunrise,
With a new spirit and a shout of joy for the new day.
We must now escape this virtual yoke of lies
And standfast in the liberty for which Christ did pay.
A hymn of thanks we sing for a long-awaited deliverance
And for the glorious liberty of the children of Providence.
The space between is the silent river dream,
where the weariness of life has no capturing stream.
It is the hardest deed sowing oneself for seed,
by compassion the soul to soul will meet.
In all matter consumed by the ever lasting love of youth,
embracing the pure spirit in perpetual truth.
The dream in touch of soul,
is the endless story like an open scroll.
Clarity of perceptions is the subtle reflections,
all ideals become serener by so far with no direction.
The beauty for now believed is not forever,
it does not evolve, now and never.
A bargain for a sweet dream and some dire sleep,
the enchanted illusion is the lullaby still to keep.
Noble nature for all you are in gloomy days,
nothing is promised and personal in her ways.
Keeps us searching by hope in spite of all,
shapes and attractions changing the call.
Spirits of attachments by all might to keep,
grandeur of the self inflicted doom to reap.
All stories that exist, heard or read,
are another version of life and dead.
The ‘to be’ perception is the fountain of constant birth,
from the rising Sun at any moment emerged.
Always walk on the sunny side of the street
where the grass is always greener
my advice... give a wide berth to the shady side
(unlike Little Red riding the 'hood)
as over there the streets are meaner
better yet focus on the good
where life is pleasantly serener
maintain a positive outlook
and keep a cheerful demeanour
please don't be annoyed vex or hex yourself
(so as to avoid a scandal)
like the wicked old witch on her broom
who when angry flew off the handle