Best Storehouses Poems
The battle between body and spirit
Housed as I am,
in this earthenware vessel
I witness,
the raging between body and spirit.
My mood- sullen and morose,
a telling sign-
a flashing indicator-
pointing to a weakness in my will,
a slow debilitating decline in my convictions-
indicating a buttressing of my resolve-
is urgently needed.
This paroxysm has been a body blow,
and my spirit is reeling.
I am cloistered, incarcerated now these three years,
having served a portion of my sentence.
What is my crime?
These four walls,
such contemptible, wretched creatures-
mock me, taunt me, deride me
as weak and worthless;
but I know better!
I am shackled to the two evil twins-
misery and myalgia-
myrmidons- secret agents of the devil
serving at his pleasure.
Hell-bent they are on a wicked crusade
raping and pillaging the golden storehouses
of my treasured faith and hope.
Sacred vaults protect my integrity,
my zeal is still intact.
As I wrestle with my afflictions
I throw tantrums-like a feral beast
charging towards the drawn sword.
However, I succumb to the inevitable.
I sense the folly of the fight and submit,
although-unwillingly to this intransigent,
auto-immune disease.
How do you fight an enemy who is
entrenched in your marrow?
This enemy is coercing me on this death march
and it is unrelenting in it's insistence.
The gates of Sheol* beckon to me to enter,
I resist the clarion call, although the gravity
draws me ever closer to my sealed fate.
I see visions of paradise, here on earth,
where pain is no more,
and all suffering is a distant memory
until eternity erases it from my mind.
Unfortunately, for me,
looks like I'll be taking the subway,
instead of the train to paradise.
December 17,2018
For Misery contest Edward Ibeh
*Sheol Hebrew for the grave.
Not hell as a burning place of torment
as is commonly taught and believed.
Hola, I am Ram mehta,
I am going out to say adios to the land,
Where cars are houses,
And houses are storehouses.
I am going out to say adios to the land,
Where boy friends are easily available,
But batteries not included.
I am going out to say adios to the land
Where the girls are looking for the fun,
But batteries to be recharged.
I am going out to say adios to the land,
Where a son is enamoured of his own mother
And daughter seeks her own father in bed.
I am going out to say goodbye to the land,
An unmarried girl wants a child,
Her mother takes her to the city to get pregnant,
Like a shepherd takes the cows to a bull.
Please leave your message,
I shall get back to you
+++++++
August 6, 2014
Form: Free verse
First Place win
Contest: I'll be back byVicky
Bethlehem, a star attraction, out of thee,
Among the chilliads, the small, the great.
A shining example - how grateful are we?
How deep and wide, one stellar star of fate.
In storehouses: blessings, rain, mannah and snow.
Likewise, one brilliant star from the creation of time,
Proudly displayed, in Paradise, before its eminent solo.
Set in its ordained place, for this moment, in its prime.
Bethlehem, a star attraction, out of thee,
Among the chilliads, the small, the great.
In the greatness of destiny, noticed by shepherds
And magi, disparaged by self-immortalised pharoah.
The precious power of its rays - no idle words
Can convey. Singular sign of salvation in its marrow.
A shining example - how grateful are we?
How deep and wide, one stellar star of fate.
Always crowds are pressing in, down below,
But the lone star has plenty of open space.
A beacon of hope, a compass arrow, its glow
Proudly presents a nativity - invitation for grace.
Bethlehem, a star attraction, out of thee,
Among the chilliads, the small, the great.
A shining example - how grateful are we?
How deep and wide, one stellar star of fate.
11/9/2022
The Only Star For Me
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
In my mind, thousands of memories swim around.
Funny how we store them up,sort and stack them,are them.
I'm so glad sometimes,
glad nobody can see....
all the memory storehouses
that live and breath deep down inside of me.
Every wonderful sunset,
and flowers that were picked just for me.
Faces that became my past,
sweet nothings, and broken dreams,
good intentions and many promises
they should have known wouldn't last.
And,
times I've spent with my family,
my sister and two dads.
A bus-ride with my brother they'll never let me forget!
The laughter of my childhood,
and the moment I heard my daughter cry for the first time,
sweet bliss.
So many, many others,
but I think I'll let those be.
It still amazes the moments we chose to keep.
A reflection of what makes us so unique.
I guess i'm gonna close the vault,
it seems I found some peace,
and yes it's okay, I've come to learn
some of those dancing memories will never cease.
Wearing her zippered jumpsuit of lime
My queen loves to survey the valley's field.
She dreams of finding a perfect place and time
She can make her dream city something real.
Megiddo was an ancient and famous city
Where starting at Solomon's gate then entering in,
Delight, pleasance and joy showed no pity,
And t'was no comfort not to be found within.
This proud city of great power and zeal--
The glory of some rare ancient engineer--
Has seen dust fly from many a chariot wheel,
When victorious kings came to holiday here.
Perhaps ancient Israel's most splendid city,
It soon captured every kingdoms' eye.
A diadem of the Jezreel Valley so pretty,
It invoked the kiss of the Assyrian sky.
Surrounded by its high double-thick stone walls,
Megiddo’s palaces did lavishly and amply abide,
Containing their ornamentally furnished halls,
With towers, storehouses, and courtyards alongside.
And then there are temples—believed to be three,
With vestibules for believers to enter in.
Then of course the altar for only the holy to see,
Where doctrines are given a positive spin.
Where’er perfect foundation might lay,
My queen shall find a delightful field.
And there to be in full domain and array,
The promise of Eden most
empyreal.
(I am inspired to write this poem by three Hollywood Movies (1)* The movie: Art of crying
(2)** The Cruel Intentions II (3)*** Julienne Moore starer (I don't remember the
name of the movie)
Hola
I am Ram Mehta, I am going
To say adios to this damn,..damn da..
To the world of Movies where cars are houses
Houses are storehouses….fed up with this life style
I am going to say adios to that world where the boy
Friends, girl-friends
Friends of all types and kinds are easily
Avaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiii l a b l e
just for asking only
BUT but but buttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
Batteries not included
I am going to say adios to that worlddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
Where the
Girls
Are looking for fun, but.. But…what should I say yay
"Batterries to be recharged."
I am going to say adios to that world where a son is enamoured of his
Own..own, (I am shamed to say, O.K. will write,) “mother”
And …………….
And …………And a father seeks his own
Damn (I got to write) hhhhhh “Own daughter” in bed
Still shameful is… An unmarried girl wants a child of
Her own, her mother takes her to the city to get
Pregnant like …likekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkke
A shepherd takes the cows to the
BULL.
Adieu Adieu
Adieu
+++++++
March 18, 2014
Form : Concrete
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place Win
Contest: Danger by Sheri Fresonke Harper
Jehovah gave me two boxes to keep
One box was black the other was gold
In the black box, put the tears that you weep
Put your sorrows inside for it to hold.
The gold box is for all the joys you reap
My joys increased, blessings were manifold
The little black box felt as light as air.
Surprise, surprise, my sorrows were not there.
Jehovah, where did all my sadness go?
My dearest child, they are all here with me
Storehouses will open blessings will flow
Always trust in me, was his fervent plea.
I’ll carry your burdens, give me your woes.
My care will never fail; it is the key.
The meaning of the boxes is sublime.
Jehovah’s wisdom and justice are prime.
We have an excellent helper and friend.
We have nothing to fear, he’s always near
Our heavenly Father will help us mend
If we listen, then do our best to hear
Hearing means doing what he recommends.
He guides our steps. Makes the road smooth and clear
Because of him, our lives are desirable.
These truths I sang complete this parable.
PAINTER OF THE SKY
Before the beginning of all creations you were
You wove the very foundations to be seemingly fair
Everything stood firm and still
You did this by the words your mouths fill.
Seven centuries you took to paint
Man and birds and bears breathing your air without any faint
You called the Milky Way into being
Separating day from night since it was not so mean.
You called the waters to expanse from the land
All because you had in mind an eternal life planned
Yet the shadows of the Near East called you a myth
Walking in so great darkness and filth.
Darwin and those who make your words ineffective by their traditions
Hiding in their so called specimen and sample conditions
So I asked them to look at the sky and tell me
If it came by chance or free.
Let science say your colors were just cosmic conditions
Or there is a Painter of the sky who chose his colors without any fixations
From Kuwornu to Da Vinci no art can compare
To the void less nature of the earth you tear.
The blossom blooming blue skies
Where the flying creature flies
Tell me, if you know who ornamented the clouds with such garment adorning
And opened the storehouses of the snow to stop you from too much warming.
In your darkening council you speak words with no knowledge
You should have known it is all His privilege
That man will know and understand
And give account on the day all will stand.
In the presence of the great Painter of the skies
Judging generations whom with Him never made any ties
But will see face to face the Turner of years
Whom all will witness with such great horror and fears.
Honey combs swollen..sticky and sweet
Apples candied or chopped for mince meat
Raisins dried from my Daddy's grape vine
Verily I say.. it's again harvest time..
Eager for Winter and sun shortened days
Storehouses busting we bring in the strays
Tilling and tending ... the work and the grime
Toiling and teamwork.. we receive Harvest time..
Intervals of hours.. of weeks and years
Miles of work.. with blood.. sweat and tears..
Every time to a season.. every season for a time
~With our hearts full of gladness..
we celebrate Harvest Time!
I am going to say adios to the movies,
Where cars are houses,
And houses are storehouses.
I am going to say adios to the movies,
Where boy friends are easily found,
But batteries not included.
I am going to say adios to the movies
Where the girls are looking for the fun,
But batteries to be recharged soon.
I am going to say adios to the movies,
***Where a son is enamored of his own mother
*And in bed a father seeks his own daughter
**And blood sister seeks in bed her own brother.
I am going to say adios to the movies,
Where an unmarried girl wants a child,
Her mother takes her to the city ahead,
Taking the cows to a bull like a shepherd.
Leave your message please,
I shall get back to you at ease.
* The movie: Art of crying
** The Cruel Intentions II
*** Julienne Moore starer
=======================================
Fifth place win in
Contest: Outrageous Rhyme
I indeed need the things you crave
but will not make myself a stark slave.
Men who are truly in need
do not gather grains in greed...
There are no storehouses in the grave.
I need no golden chain and classy shoes,
there are better things for me to choose...
a heart void of hatred,
and some clothes for the naked.
What does a great river have to lose?
For every high and mighty mountain,
there is a fresh and fragrant fountain...
we do not have to impress,
there is no need to oppress...
The needy and the greedy are death's gain.
You humans walk about with ease
With no care nor mere concern
Where every step could maim or kill
And pilage upon return
Whether consciously or unaware
Your ignorance is noted
Oblivious to basic laws of motion
Where walking equates to floating
You boast of sciences and their order
Superior to all that lives then!
Yet upon much closers inspection
You thieve progress from our nests
What you do not know is undiscovered
As If it was always concealed in view
But your vanity and arrogance
Made what was plain seem undiscovered
Education is the key THEY SAID
And so observe wat more to learn
We have no formal education
Yet it is our knowledge that you yearn
Our cities require no government
Nor our storehouses a cooler
Our population knows no census
Yet all sleep with full-cropped bellies
Our currency of order requires neither rates nor taxes
Prepared for every season our larder is stocked by and far
How sexist can we be when our monarch is always a Queen?
Is not discrimination amongst ourselves what stunts unity and progression!
Tiniest of all beings yet the most enthusiastic workers
About from the ascension of Our Lady till the chill that summoms phantism
Our industriousness is favoured such as the work ethic we possess
Watch, carefully observe, learn from us and you will prosper
Imagine what we could do if we were you with all this knowledge
We'd bring order to the world and calm to all chaos
Maybe now you know to lose the botox that stiffens up your necks
Look down more timeously and remember we too are beings
No matter how far we travel into the universe
No matter how many worlds we conquer
Or marvelous civilizations we encounter
No matter how many creatures we dissect
How far into the past we probe
No matter how many words we write, or read
There is always one step further; one more word to pen
One more iota of information to uncover.
Our storehouses of knowledge
Do not help us survive
Though we hope they will;
For we must believe we will continue.
It all depends upon
One more grain of knowledge
A puzzle with the answer we all desire
Then will we be forever.
Not as a race entire,
Not through works of art
Not from words of wisdom,
Conquest or slaughter,
But the egoistic Self,
The person, the arrogant mind;
What matters if there is or is not a god?
The query is merely: Will I be forever.
That there is life beyond life
Is the dream, the hope,
Of blind misbegotten certainty.
Are we not like a drop of water
That quenched a thirst for knowledge
Then evaporated, but still exists?
Please do not suppose "We are not."
When no more doubt remains
Then shall humanity crumple
And fade from the universe
No longer possessed
Of the undivine quest
No longer needing to persist in this land
When another, we insist, so surely waits.
For now, the starships search outer realms
The pen transcribes the mind
While seldom do we stop to reflect how
If ever the destination is at hand
We will have lost all purpose.
c1973
An earnest poem from my youth, tossed in a file box and stored away lo these many decades.
He begins his poems with a negative tone
But there is a positive affirmation of God’s creation
Indirectly affirms the beauty of divine image
As he laments, “Disguised since childhood”
Though one bears the image of God
One comes of age as masks.
And wearing masks is a false creation
As masks are man-made and not God-made.
Wearing masks is a false creation, a false self
That began “Since childhood” as they are
Constructed for survival and success.
Then at the end Rilke imagines a location
Of storehouses where all these lives are laid away.
But the remote location requires a journey
It’s a journey of repentance
But it is our own emptiness of” Suits of armor
old carriages and clothes hanging limply on the wall
All images of emptiness.
For Rilke, God is most intimate, most personal
He speaks to Him as if they stand side by side.
Rilke once said
Religion is the art of those who are not creative
But he, himself, failed to represent God in his poetry
So he tried to transform his art into his poetry.
+++++++
*A myth developed about his death "Gathering roses from his garden,He pricked his hand on a thorn, both arms swollen and affected and he died.
His Epitaph
“Rose, oh pure contradiction,delight
of being no one’s sleep under so
many lids”
+++++++
April 23, 2014
Form Free Verse
Second Place Win
Contest: Rilke's Book of Hours by Mystic Rose
THE BOOK LOVER
Some women pine for silks and pearls
Some shop away their hours
But I’ve a book-hound in my blood
Preferring books to flowers
Each page I touch With loving hand
I trace the print snug there
The whitest page grants me delight
The yellow brings despair
The old bookshops on dusty streets
Are storehouses of dreams
They guard the dancing continents
And trolls that bridge the streams
And for each story hidden there
Mid pages silken glories
An offering of bouncing tales
replace bland bedtime stories
And on this paper
Fine or rough
my fingers gently roam
Safely in these books I find my place--
And build myself a home.
Victoria Anderson-Throop
Juja, Kenya