Best Stigmatic Poems
Tropical quadra plateau, Amazing bright sunny,
Glided waterfall Carrying happiness in their gunny.
Long nodding flower's joyously plumed,
Everbody waving happily, the herald bloomed.
Eureka, I love this heaven on earth!
Hazy perished hills, houses trenching at the outskirts,
Swaning over to the fluctuating peak of mountains, roosted with struts.
Orchid waftured, Clinging on to the cluster of flowers,
Precipitated rain was about to shower.
Gosh, it Stimulated my soul!
King of beast, sucking the sweet tempting fragranced juices,
Solitary alienate species including Honey bees mused badly abuses.
Fluttered wings, Struggling with them, Leisurely travelling my journey.
Fitnessed physically as if I am in an defensing army.
Situation turned to be horribly muddle,
Tremendously, I wanted to sort and excitedly cuddle!
Proud to have an Airfoiled wings of mine,
Antennate feature you prissily shine.
Rainbowis passion lying inside me,
Resourcefully mingled with music and dance, happening besides me.
Whoa,People got entranced!
People jeopardize the innate beauty,
Relishingly wanna do my duty.
Actuating my arms, Ventured to fly high.
Intended inspiration wanted to reach the sky.
Weaving the web spiderman thirstily trying me to catch.
Escaping from them I ran, prevented myself from getting snatched.
Ohhh,They had a Hostile faction accord!
Nature's beauty aspiringly propelled me.
Blowing wind, tactily sensisizing my skin,
Blushing cheeks, spilled the bean.
Nocturnal creatures will wake in the dark,
Aerophilically dangling around the shruby bed,before they bark
Stopping by sayonara, continuing my next stigmatic destiny!
By Madhavi
The caricature of a gentleman, nameless, scorned,
The infamous savage of the famous street was wobbling:
Scruffy, shaggy, ruffed beared, tousled haired,
Disheveled,
there went the odious appearance, bumbling.
Soubriquet: lunatic, fierce, rowdy with murky torn clothes,
Was sitting stigmatic with grubby means,
Was teased and thrown stones,
To drive away from the decorous street!
He was spotted pitied with meagre chuck,
While feeding a destitute;
Taunting and sneering didn't perturb him,
Gave his share simpering, only to be starved!
The antithesis of savage, the man of the hour,
Silently paved his way then, bare footed tottering,
To be again the savage of the decorous street!
(1)
Strophe
Slowly and slowly fly the mighty feathers:
the uncanny wrath bearer, the poacher's prey,
the bald bizzare stigmatic cryptic creature, the ecology's majestic role player;
the curtain raiser of ecosystem's air purifier.
Alas! Your iconographic role is omitted,
you, the saviour of the mortal race
from the contagious diseases.
Astounded! How you uncontaminated dear environment.
Your poaching has taken away
the soul of the balanced ecosystem;
crucial is saviour friend's presence, on the verge of extinction plight might have horrid ripple effect!
(2)
Antistrophe
Irony! The friend's void can't be substituted by mere replicas of sustainable development;
the diminishing existence will
drastically affect the local food webs!
How alluring to have a glimpse
of the hunch and tuck of the bird's head in the cold,
flapping and fluttering the wings,
stretching the neck in the heat!
You, remain aloft for hours,
soars gracefully on long broad wings;
with dazzling sharp eyes
from the highlands to pick the carrion!
(3)
Epode
Your iconographic presence is being honoured by the myths, legends, fables of civilizations from ages.
High time to contemplate, to introspect,
to jump into the ecosystem's integral bandwagon:
as pivotal to rescue and redeem the bird's friendly endangered existence!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
We are born remembering
DNA's sacred syntax,
cryptic receipts with multigenerational redemption value,
to redeem integrity through this incarnation's
fully functional root and crown potential
For ecological
politically co-intelligent
co-operative economic practice
with polyculturally unconditional intent
Mutual subsidiarity of peace
compassioning just rightness
declared only through solidarity
in co-prehensive
leftbrain consciousness.
Who are these would be CoRedemptive Mentors
stalking my multi-regenerational mirror?
Tempted by good and evil
I reconnect MotherEarth's suffering
to monotheistic FatherSun's not listening,
steadfastly ambivalent feelings
ambidextrously languaged
Riding Time's enculturing edge
flying forward for hope of better
stronger
surer lasting light,
fleeting backward darkening doubtful powers
to change what I cannot compassionately tolerate
to fulfill EarthJustice commitments together
as we might
were Anthros not a lone Redeemer
anti-hero monoculture
Prophets without sufficient Time
for holy spirit's embryonic forms
flowing full-natured unction.
This present makes a safer home
than future's pregnant womb
or past's enslaving RoyalAnthro tomb
severing analogical revolutions
apart
rather than preserving integrity's resolutions
together.
Double-bound
stigmatic
messiah wounds
Breathing in Earth's first breath
while dying out Ego's already last,
stifling my victorious solo shout
"not yet...not yet" out
My mythic time
portends mystery's co-redeeming climax
without embracing Beloved EarthTribe's
sacred sensory resonance.
Redeemer musing Heart
mediating fragile warring Mind
against unwisely breaking Body,
our Trinitarian Teleology
As messianic restitution
perpetually rides
Earth's suffering surf
of almost pregnant paradise.
Change your name…
Change it for one that with its scorching stigmatic fervor will evoke blood from
those who hear it. That the word detonates at the level of voices and that the
ferocity of its enunciation’s chars your tongue at the moment that it escapes your
mouth. Change it for one that is cunning. Change it for another that will be a
mirror
that reflects the falsity of its songs. A name that once spoken out loud will wrench
the feathers from the wings of angels that are in the vicinity of the conscious.
Change your name…
Change it for one, which instead of screaming in hushed tones, will resound.
One
that reflects your anguish and murders you every time you hear it. One that will
challenge the word of God. Change it and discard the one that was nailed to your
forehead. Remove the veil of your name and replace it for a new one, although it
might become a shroud. Change your name of shame for one of damnation.
Change your name of supplication and submission for one of sin.
Change your name of dead Royalty, although it might be the one of a bastard.
Change your name so that at the beckoning…
You will not answer.
Not entering among those sterile walls
your mind is firmly resolute with decision
not wanting to be cutted
you are leaving your life
in hands of earth
but will you be wise enough
to ask her a right questions
determined enough
to hear the answers
I know you are afraid
not feeling your body as your own anymore
it is still your body
and those cuts maybe aren't happiest solution
they are definite one
I know you are afraid
feeling is well known
like you are broken
damaged
devoided from fitting in socially constructed frame of 'normal'
but normal is social construction
receptive for modifications
your body isn't all of you
it is that perfect cloak for your soul
and cloak has that habit to become worn out
needing some repairs
there is nothing stigmatic about that
here ... take my hand
let's be labeled
together
we'll wear that yellow badge
despite their bigotry
don't be afraid
and don't let your ego choose instead of you
tired of departures, yet
aware that you have your own path
I'll esteem your decisions
because I love you
please don't die on me
Your book says 'Honor Thy Mother and Father' and you tell me I must follow this.
But I must dispute back and insist you cannot honor those who aren't honorable.
And you watch me as I take an approach towards your book that's not too classy.
And you glare at me menacingly and tell me that my attitude is much too sassy.
You tell me the moral of the tale is this, I say the moral of the tale is that.
And yet you are indignant towards me, and call me a brat.
And then you hold a stigmatic belief towards a topic, and I counter it perfectly.
You laugh me off patronizingly, and you insist I am wrong doubtlessly.
You think because you've got some years on me I am empty of knowledge.
And as you shutter out my heartfelt opinions you leave me lethargic.
And as you watch me enjoy my music you scream it is trashy.
And as I defend my enjoyment you write me off as sassy.
In every weary word, there is a selfish storm,
Within a blinding blurred of a formless form…
Thoughts are lost amidst the negligent nights,
Tongues are tossed upon blasphemous bites.
Cloudy confusion arises from its sacrificial still,
As the able abeyant advises the wandering will…
The silence surrenders to the drowning deluge,
For the rain remembers to release in its refuge.
Where the idealized illusions come out to play,
The stigmatic seclusions dormant in disarray…
Whirl winding whispers decay in the distance,
Amongst tangled twisters of raging resistance.
Nov.19.2019
Disarray Poetry
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
N/A for contest
Dotting about land mines eyes half closed
Asleep she seems while walking unto this edge....
Repulsion taking hold fey flags his juggernaut: jostling
King snakes slithering past these planetoids searching for her lizard queen ?
Demimonde's state of this union's address devil-may-care; and that he does dear dusty
Acheron your systematic servitude touch'stone's, tour de force: stigmatic ellipses be genetic
Your red rum rivers his macabre's subtle genre in another's, covert genocide their general assembly
Standard-bearers taking oath they solemnly sware savoir-faire satyr's, satanic satellites: diphtheria's diplomacy love's night.
Sacrifice
Sacrificial solitudes traumatically trapped thru out time
Sabotaged souls subservient to the Necronomicon night
A selfless surrender sanctioned with a calamitous climb
Penal punitive pondering of the marauding mind's abyss
A slave seducing deviation from the mantra morals amiss
For infinities infraction the absorption of a stigmatic smite.
March.28.2018
Rhyme Time 1
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
~SHELTER FROM TH' STORM~
TWISTING INTO VORTEX,MY VISIONS VANISH TO NAUGHT
THUNDERHEADS ROLL VIOLENTLY,AS VORACIOUS DINS RING A TOLL
TH' DARKNESS...NOW FEEDS FEROCITY'S MAELSTROM
BURSTING AT MY SEAMS,TO CHALLENGE REALITY
STIGMATIC WOUNDS,PROFUSELY NOW POUR
LIFE BECOMES DEATH,AS I PLEAD FOR MY DELIVERANCE
REGRET OF MY BIRTH,FEEDS A YEARNING
FREEDOM ONCE AGAIN,FROM TORTURE...I PLEAD
DAMN MY MORTALITY,I DESIRE NO MORE
TO BE LOOSED FROM BOND OF FLESH,MY SPIRIT GROANS
A TRAUM'D PAST,WAXES NOSTALGIC
CONCEIVED ONCE MORE...THEN REBORN
DEMON'S SEED PLANTED AGAIN,SEARING RAIN BLEEDS
TH' STORM GALES TOSS ME,TO N' FRO' TO BREAK
THOUGH SEEK I A SHELTER,NOT ONE BEACON SHEWS
MINE EYES THAT KNEW BEAUTY,ARE NOW BLACK'ND BLIND
A WHIRLWIND NOW FORMS,DRAWING ME FORTH
DEBRIS PULVERIZES MY PSYCHE',AS IT SWALLOWS ME IN
ONE NOW WITH THIS CYCLONIC SATAN,I SEEK TO DESTROY
BUT AN EYE APPEARS FROM TH' CENTER...OF PUREST LIGHT
PIERCING MY HEART...RELIEF COMES AT LAST
TH' STORM NOW CEASED,I FALL AS I GASP
HANDS APPEAR 'NEATH ME,AS SAVED I'M AGAIN...
FROM CEASING LIFE'S BREATH...BY TH' TRUEST OF FRIENDS
©~AZAZA~'09
ACCURSED THEN, ACCURSED NOW is a
Dedication to all fellow
South African's and to People
throughout the world who has suffered
the shame of pigments bane.
Sullied and tainted words
Bloodied red, in pain etched hearts
Doom strickened from the start
Sisters white, brothers brown.
This one better, that one to cast aside
Feel the pain, hear still today, how it screams
Because of the past, the future still bears the cost
Separate development, separated families.
Political idiots of yesteryear, fared still no better today
Chaotic then, stigmatic now
In numbers and colours, have peoples classified
And have each generation, the other brought to shame.
Parents denied and lost on the road of memories bane
Families ferreted and hounded, and at a distance placed
Left to flounder at the wayside as fragmented debris stock
And guiltily forgotten by an intermingled past.
How man's atrocities the Lord Father would want to blame
For mans insane laws, enacted by the bigotted vain
Has compasssion flown man's vocalled coop
Has Humanity perhaps, an other name?
Who is this would-be Redeemer
stalking my own mirror?
Whether for good or evil
I remain stuck in
ambivalent.
Riding Time's unfolding edge,
glancing forward for faith in better
stronger
surer lasting light
glancing backward darkens optimistic hope
to change what I cannot
yet
to fulfill commitments to grow together
as me and we might
were I not so all-encompassing alone.
Universe of Presence much too vast for home.
Even so, the present makes a safer home
than future's pregnant womb
or past's sterile tomb,
drawing these two faces together
in stigmatic messiah wound,
breathing in and out,
stifling each victorious shout
"Not yet!...not yet....again
my time unwilling to climax
without our Time past
and future CoBeloved.
Faith in fated freedom
struggles with choosing Earth's rebirth
as ego-death
to what might have been
anthro-privileged benign
contents choosing co-invested life
as if co-passion through cosmic context
of karmic win/win revolution.
CoRedeemer hearts
and loving minds
perpetually ride anguished surf of paradise,
not yet, not done yet
not this, not that,
not yet tomorrow, too soon yesterday,
hanging on bodhisattva mentoring crosses
in-between
where nondual co-arising Now
surfs swelling/ebbing cycles
Here
not yet resiliently healthy
There
and not yet wealthy
win/win Were.
A SPIRITUAL SAINT'S STRENGTH AMIDST STRIFE
Fortitude for half a century, giving God all the glory,
The Foundress of Holy Family lived a humble, godly life,
St. Mariam Thresia - a stigmatic saint's story
Filled with many troubles, temptations and strife,
From Puthenchira, an Indian Syro-Malabar Catholic
Consecrated herself to the Lord at eight or nine years,
Modest and meek, serving the poor and the sick,
She was disciplined, obedient and different from her peers,
With childlike simplicity, charismatic charity and Christian chastity,
Fastidiously following Father Vithayathil's fine footsteps,
The "virgin of pains" was for Family Apostolate, the model entity,
Nursing the sick and dying by visiting them at their doorsteps,
Burning with intense love for God, she was a mystic soul,
"Whose Heart was aglow with fire and whose feet were winged",
Enduring her sufferings for the sake of Christ was her goal,
Her patient, divine spirit was with radiant sweetness tinged,
She had fervent trust in God's immense providence,
Her spiritual ecstasy was hours of prayer and meditation,
The "Apostle of suffering", she strived for her continence,
Wiping the tears of the broken hearted was her consolation,
Her gracious gift of goodness guides us all in giving
Care, concern and compassion to the comfortless at all cost,
Her lasting legacy left behind still leads the living
To show His love, shine His Light and shelter the lost.
Form: Rhyme (abab)
10.23.19
{This poem is about St. Mariam Thresia, who was canonised on 16th October, 2019 by Pope Francis in Rome. She is the Foundress of the Congregation of Holy Family, Puthenchira, Kerala.}
Unbridled bout of self-assertion blatant
turns you to a repelling babbling exuberant.
Shutting of orifice floodgates you eschew,
forgetting everybody isn’t fool around you.
Torn to shards if you blurt bullsheet absurd,
do a volte-face eating your crappy words.
Try to not gulp them dry in stigmatic drouth*,
for a fly does not enter a closed mouth.
August 14, 2019
*Drouth is Scottish dialect for drought