Best Sowers Poems
She was tragically wounded in her fragile heart
Betrayed by her lover, the one who tore it apart
with vile words and deeds he chose to impart
leaving her as addled as an abstract work of art
There comes a time when what was is no more
The strong become weak, the rich become poor
A delicious apple is simply reduced to a core
Hearts drawn in sand are washed from the shore
Sometimes life gets twisted by anger or fate
Things loved suddenly become objects of hate
When burgeoning signs of Spring arrive too late
There comes a time to have patience and wait
Budded flowers bloom before they wither and die
Truth is found to be nothing more than a lie
Relationships flounder until they go awry
There comes a time to whisper, "goodbye"
There are times we cling to hope, running deep
When mourners no longer have reason to weep
When we'll scale mountains, too high and too steep
And sowers of seed have bountiful harvests to reap
Things change with time, as dark becomes light
Tides ebb and flow and black fades to white
A golden sun bows to a silver moon at night
There comes a time to make wrong things right
We wear life as a cloak, a cloth of fragile weaving
Mended at the seams when ripped by deceiving
There comes a time to put an end to the grieving
In yourself, you must always continue believing
A chrysalis becomes a beautiful winged creature
The ambitious student becomes the wise teacher
Disbelievers find faith in Lord Jesus, the preacher
There will come a time when pain can't reach her
I’m a poet who was made not born
Molded by God through people, my inspiration
I became a poet so I can stand on my own
With God’s love and strength
Through my creative expression.
Poetry is my aesthetic way to express
By writing my stories of joy and loneliness
I became a poet to share my failure and success
For a day-to-day’s journey
God’s love is just around to give hope, bless.
Why did I become a poet?
Because of the people I’ve loved and met
To creatively reveal God's nature’s wonders, not a secret
In fear, doubt, stress or exhaustion
I lean on poetry’s comforting wall, my parapet.
Along with my job is my ministry
Done in my special way through poetry
I became a poet with Almighty Lord’s precious gift
To share His words like songs with praising arms like a tree.
..........................................................................................
(The poem below wasn't included in the contest. I'm posting it today, Aug. 10, 2024 5.49pm for keepsake. I've scribbled this just after writing my contest entry above.)
How Nature Made Me A Poet
Seed of poetry has been sown in my heart,
By sowers who played the biggest part;
Poetry seed grew and nurtured from the start,
From reciting rhymes with actions at age five.
Seed of poetry has been watered by mom and school,
When memorizing poem was my forte, so cool!
As I bloomed, I started to admire and fall in love like a fool,
To words where I express creatively gliding like waterfall.
My words came in various poems filling my paper,
When joy and love spark as odds to nature’s wonder;
In pains and sadness, writing poems is my comforter,
‘Til I realized, I’m also poet to share and adore our Almighty Father.
Sweet super mothers with magic powerS
Women of worth, patience of a willoW
Exceptionally empathetic, their depths inconceivablE
Entitled to glory, under their feet paradisE
Tireless, serene bliss on their faces brighT
Maternal affection radiating from warm bosoM
Oozing remarkable humility, denying the egO
Treasure of lore and wisdom, an art of the hearT
Homage paid to sweet mothers of eartH
Epitome of devotion, endurance and guidancE
Root of all foundations, souls of grandeuR
Sowers of beauty, sweet super motherS.
* A double Acrostic poem.
Those Slithering Serpents Of World's Hidden Abyss
Through pleasant meadows they slither and soft hiss
pushing down nubile flowers as they go
they of dark, giver of serpentine kiss,
sowers of blackest curse that hatred grows,
a malignant force, masquerading as Light
of corruptible hearts, beasts out of sight!
Lying in wait in fields of verdant grass
with long razor sharp teeth so quick to bite
seeking to inflict pain as victims pass,
secure in deceit, monsters of night,
a malignant force, masquerading as Light
of corruptible hearts, beasts out of sight!
Within deep shadows they dance, curse and play
waiting for another target to slash
full of darkness, fearful of light of day,
with blades of hate, cutting a bloody gash,
a malignant force, masquerading as Light
of corruptible hearts, beasts out of sight!
Through pleasant meadows they slither and soft hiss
pushing down nubile flowers as they go
they of dark, giver of serpentine kiss,
sowers of blackest curse that hatred grows,
a malignant force, masquerading as Light
of corruptible hearts, beasts out of sight!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2020
Rhyme, ( The Dark Disciples Of World's Cancerous Decrees )
Note: A poetic summation of those people that seek to
spread misery, pain, sorrow and injure others by way
of unwarranted attacks upon unsuspecting poetic souls.
Serpents that live to injure others that they decide
to harm due to their own insecurity, hatred, and/or
ill-born and unfounded jealouses.
May God forgive, (because for now) I am fresh out of that tender fruit
myself.
( Que Dios perdone, ya que estoy recién salido de ese
tierno fruto yo mismo. )
Autumn, O Autumn, I have always loved you.
Please forgive me if I've not told you so.
From childhood, you have been most special.
Back then, you signaled cessation from labor;
Farm labor that was very hard, hot, and humid.
Autumn, O Autumn. Is there another as
Productive, quiet, and beautiful as you?
Looking out all around, I see your beauty
In many and variant ways; whether it's the leaves
On the trees or the dust from the harvest of grain.
Or a sea of soft picture-perfect white cotton in the fields.
Autumn, O Autumn, you are indeed the great gatherer of
The seed of sowers, promoter of festivity and celebration.
Your voice shouts from the trees, the fields, the white
Clouded skies. Not the shout of noise, but the sound of
Anticipation, the joys and rewards of hard work and the
'Smile of God' upon your bountiful crops.
Autumn, O Autumn, the sun pauses for your entry. I feel
The tame in the atmosphere, the subduing of your presence.
You have come with smiles and not frowns, with lots of goods
To give to all and not take from any. Your God and mine have
Deemed it so. We are grateful for your season and shall be
Givers as you have given to us.
092222PS
Dear Lord. I know that every day has 24 hours blessed with sun, moon, and stars. Yet, every day, many people barely survive and others who starve
I know that every Christmas many will buy, buy, and buy; many will give, give, and give. Yet millions will be penniless, familyless, homeless; many will
beg, hoping only just to live. I know that our world brings joy and grief, cold
and heat, sowers and reapers, sorrow and pain. Yet there are those among us
who are careless, heartless, and live daily only to cheat and to gain. The
destructive forces of nature do not know the difference between Christmas and
other days. For lack of heat, hurricanes might cease, but will not halt at the site of our stop signs or even delay.
**************************************************************
Dear Father God, realizing all these things are true and that neither I nor my fellow humans are any match for Mother Nature, please grant Planet Earth
this Christmas Season a season free of massive and destructive earthquakes like the one in Haiti a few years ago. Let any small earthquakes that might
occur not be strong enough to trigger a large tsunami like the one in Indonesia a few years ago. Let your comfort and peace surround those in California who
have lost so much. Many escaped the fire only with the clothes on their backs, not to mention their lost loved ones. The sister of a friend in our church
perished in the Paradise fire. By the way Lord, I thank you for the rain that came to my region in Northern California about two hours ago. And Oh Dear
Lord, as you very well know, time will not allow so great a list of terrorizing
perils. There have been countless devastations the world over. My Heavenly
Father, I will not ask for more at this time; and I ask these things in the Name of your Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
11212018PoSoupContest, Christmas Mourning, P.S. Awtry
Meanwhile Doctor Kaunda reminded young
people in the country ascending the rung
of success they have a big role to play
with trappings of pride slung
in weaving together unity among unsung
swiftly tailored heroes, as sowers
reaping luxe fabrics of peace among
divinity, integrity, magnanimity,
and unity for this country.
He has however commended President
Edgar Lungu for his efforts in uniting recent
dichotomy, sans the various people in the country,
And speaking at the same event,
National Guidance and reminescent
Religious Affairs Minister
Reverend Godfridah
Sumaili sought riches for indigent -
says national unity and urgent
peace critical for development
of the geographical extent
spanning entire country
Reverend Sumaili says difficult
no matter how fervent
for Zambia to develop
if no unity among Zambians.
And earlier in his speech, Commodores
Vision Ambassador to Zambia
Chairperson Misheck Kombe yours
truly expressed concern to jumpstart
solution regarding regionalism and tribalism at heart
tearing Zambia apart, like inures
reflux resignation of meal,
thus Mr. Kombe underscores
how important each and every shores
Zambian to join the crusade complacent
against tribalism and regionalism
because it retards development for s'mores!
I have my constitution
which exists in the tablets of my mind,
It's not an illusion,
but an ally, a friend,
A guide to perfection,
Perverts the way of the pervert,
A guide to perfection
for the immortal, mortal and mortality.
There is a constitution,
Perpetuated by coercion,
Written by human distortion,
With zigged and zagged expectation,
Oriented to insufficiency,
Loops that our leaders pay to see,
Whose sowers sow carefully,
lest they close their own way.
Of a doctrine hollow I know,
Often planted on the way of justice,
Where the little of a cobbler is taken,
To spare the enthusiasm of a regime,
A policy set out for heaven,
But creates hell just before,
When infants survive just long enough,
To witness the state-of-the-art slaughter of their beloved.
An outline of legal malpractices,
constitution of an immoral basis of morality,
Thieves defining the principle of equity,
Harlots given virgin reception,
A fugitive in the state house,
A constitution which siphons justice,
Is your pamphlet of statements,
Written in pencil and erased in ink.
That's not my constitution,
Which differentiates between a ***** and hero,
Implemented sparingly by hungry lawyers,
Who when full do more harm,
To warrant extermination of infants,
And offer them a premature state burial,
Where man slaughters his kinsmen,
For the interests of a constitution.
Written 15/06/2012 MUTHOKA JACOB.
A reaction to failed confidence in the constitution whose makers become the prefects over its interpretation.
One good turn deserves another.
The good you do shall live forever.
No matter how small it will appear.
For those in need it’s always dear.
Their need is what compels a deed.
The deed you do will fill your need.
It’s like you save for a rainy day.
Sowers reap, so wise men say.
The good we sow will multiply.
It will go on after we die.
9/3/2016
*Image of It Begins by Pixabay.
Longanimity
Longanimity stretches a sowers grit for CROPS
actuality, albeit, can likewise be ones, calm, cool,
collectivity as the bounty of the reapers' CHOPS,
sublimity achieves nature advances as its jewel.
TESTS question one's prospect of forbearance
while tackling the crisis giving an appearance
BEST'S a favorable triumph of transparence
file away any despair entitling perseverance.
Impassiveness spread an outlet of snug DOORS,
abstractedness harps on focus, hard to fathom
jaggedness being unclear like peace and WARS,
disingenuousness, apathy, or idle our phantom.
POWER inspires valor to meet jeopardy, fortitude
being such intros a key to the crux, bid latitude,
EMPOWER one's gut to safeguard, ne'er subdued
freeing tribulation via best beliefs as its prelude.
Stoicism, Hellenic integrity of pleasure or PAIN,
prism of sorts to veer a beam or invert an image
schism hence lacks objection, curiosity ABSTAIN
escapism from reality treats a sublime vicinage.
ACTS of noble goals, confront peril, magnanimity
breeds one's bigheartedness forward, generosity
MAX the merits as concerns swamp, equanimity
seeds grounds to endure, merciful re longanimity.
2022 March 05
*1st Place*
Pick-A-Title, Vol 29
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 March 27
*NOTE: The Triple Lento form I used above is known as a CROSS LENTO, formatted as; 1st quatrain, start rhyme, aaaa, end rhyme, bcbc; 2nd quatrain (CROSS) start rhyme dede, end rhyme, ffff, 3rd quatrain (CROSS), and so on. A Lento has (2) quatrains, Cross Lento can only be used in double (4), triple (6), or chain Lentos (8 or more).
Compassionate Comforter
Messaging hope,
Put faith in our Father
Whenever He spoke.
Those that would listen
Are those who will hear
The call to repentance,
The need to draw near.
Listen to the message
With words of new and old.
Listen for understanding,
Nourishment for the soul.
Listen to the words,
Hear them beckon - singing.
Hear the Spirit calling,
Offering new beginning.
Sowers of hope
Taken on faith,
Receiving His harvest
Of peace and His grace.
This is my translation of a Chinese Song dynasty poem and my response to the poem
Yan Jidao
To the tune of Mulan hua
Again, the east wind blows its heartless gusts
Smears flowers thick upon the ground like scarlet makeup blush
Emerald tower’s curtain no screen for sorrow’s view
Last year’s melancholy washes in anew
Am I not a fool to fret so over spring’s remains?
At every step shed my tears in vain
Instead, I’ll fill my wine cup to the brim
This full of fallen flowers I need to drink my sorrow dim
People Petals
Fallen flowers do not linger in these days
When spring is greenhouse years and air-conditioned rooms
And workers plant the flowers for a time, then take their withered heads away
But no, it’s not in vain to fret and cry for all that falls and fades
The careless wind and strewn ground
A season mirror sending us our hearts
The flowers as if people petals that blossomed in our past
Faces gone, friends and neighbours, Christmas present aunts
Run to gather up those bits of life and stay their shades
Press them in my memory books and glue them fast
People petals still spread blush and dab the earth’s cheeks bright
The roads inside us still need tears to wash away the dust
Be summer rains and clear the skies for autumn gold
Even with the east wind shut outside and seasons small
We still know time and still grow old and feel how sorrow turns
Still the sowers, gardeners, sweepers
Still the faded fruits, the ashes and the earth
This was her thirty first year and she could not wait to start
And with Christmas now getting near she so enjoyed her part
Gathering up the different spools with colors joyously bright
She took out her knitting tools and knitted through the night
Such a joy was it to do as teardrops were often knitted in too
For she had this very special view and from upon it she drew
And every child was unique as she could recall every one
As so often with them she speaks as her work is never done
She called the hospital ahead saying she was on her way
The man on the phone had said, "we have a little boy today"
And soon she would arrive a special blanket under her arm
That place came alive in the presence of such a loving charm
Rocking him softly in the chair, her blanket bundling him tight
Life already seemingly so unfair but that needn't start tonight
As this little baby had a need for his own mother didn't care
And the way she planted this seed was just by being there
A season – Ages ago
Ages ago, many a seed had been planted.
Their blossoming brings, being taken for granted,
never seen, acknowledged or appreciated.
As gardeners, sowers of, we are fated
to pay an intolerable, unbearable price
for all, all we experience that is not nice
for a parent to see, to feel, believe to be,
that has come to be a part of you and me.
------------------------------------
I – like the south pole of, a magnet pushes - away ?
I – like a distant planet without gravity – ejects ?
Is it that I repel ?, instead of attract.
Is reality ?, for me, anything beyond abstract
and truly above contact ?, - such a pity
to get down and dirty, get to the nitty-gritty.
------------------------------------
A beam of energy, a wave of light, a speck of dust
in the vacuum cleaner bag of space, brought to light
within the vast womb of our universe, have I been.
My life’s impression being, being that speck of dust,
which, speck, upon speck, upon speck, upon speck
of dust gathers, accumulating upon my soul.
Dust to dust, atom to atom, gas to gas, a planet to create
until all is to heavy, I no longer am able to carry the weight.
The weight become so unbearable, these shoulders
begin to droop, drop off – back to dust, to atom, to energy,
to that vacuum cleaner bag, to the universes womb, there ,
once again to start it all over, back on the merry-go-round.
Maybe ?, a lighter load ?, a brighter road ?,
a much better story that could be told ?
What will carry us to the next time ?
What path will we walk next time ?
What journeys will be ours next time ?
Maybe ?, when it becomes next time,
and we gather, are carried into ?,
I might impart something of value,
a new start to help carry them through,
after they have been dropped off
- blown away by the winds of times passing –
to create their own planets, live their own lives,
their own experiences without influencing
the gardener with a world of negative forces,
what has seemed a lifetime of negative energy.
B. J. “A” 2
January 19th 2003
Rosebuds draft in scarlet, crimson, or maroon,
dreams to capture the viewer's point of view,
as its blossom's sheath their basis to its prune,
magnificent achievers rise in rows queue,
as the loss of age cast their field of thorn strewn,
shadows the facades to pipe a distinct tune,
shear away those sharp pokey points of danger,
and frail petals to amend its life-changer.
Amendments trail the housed maxed of tabletops,
of revived rosebuds claim a home as their own,
a treasured wealth trades with the town's floral shops,
then set at one's front wicket by an unknown,
or adorn tombstones as floral wreaths that props,
and crowned on a princess who sits on her throne,
a taxing burden to detain the death masque,
not tiny but thornless as Bonsai craft's task.
The Pyramid steps like the Baguio steppes,
where Filipinos view as their time-out spot,
the other is ancient for tourists who peps,
while an isle serves the rosebuds to sprout and squat,
nature confides stemmed thornless maroon by reps,
students check articles of the course they plot,
as a new breed of rosebuds shelved a terrace,
elegance embrace the solitaire heiress.
Loosely sketched parcels that the rosebud dwells in,
fresh sod fertile and well-sopped sealed neath the sun,
from its current strain, since its birth in Eden,
inspire blossoming with faint buzzes outdone,
coy rumors, green greener, red redder, seeds in,
East rises, and West sets, how the rosebud won,
Bonsai is an ancient craft not deemed as new,
man named rosebuds since their virgin birth, it grew.
Spring sprung sprouts as their healthy roots hug the ground,
a wealth of newborns reach for the warmth of skies,
its outstretched stem hardens merely being gowned,
a promised promenade paramount to rise,
by patrons, the sun, moon, and earth make their round,
a glowing shape as a rosebud is its prize,
the fields are graced with rosebuds color-filled rows,
as they grow in opened splendor till it snows.
Botanical Society best: Sowers.
ranked by their breeds and regions where they were raised,
down to idyllic truths, forthcoming growers,
who take pleasure in their leisure being phased,
where growth is best tended as their height lowers,
promised its dowery by virtuous praised,
reach prosperous glory in you or outpours,
rain or shine achievers within or outdoors.