Best Strictness Poems
Discipline
Controlled actions
strictness, control, order
Fulfillment of goals,aims and dreams
Self-control
She’s rolled up with patience
dedication and faith in the Lord;
her strictness punctuated a shared vision
that focused on learning acquisition.
Her punctuality, precision, and determination
to teach her pupils with discipline and right focusing;
as a rule of thumb she always obeyed
made the essence of what music means to all.
Rain or shine she’s there in her cubicle
waiting for her pupils scheduled to take their lessons;
those Hanon exercises, arpeggios, and other finger articulations
would lead off in concentration or warm-up in every lesson.
Perhaps she’s a scarecrow to some who hadn’t known her;
but she’d a listening heart described as a story line;
with depth and assurance that no one is denied,
along with other slow learners who coped with perseverance.
Truly, her endless word to slow down in every measure,
her technique that entailed so much discipline and correction
through memory lane I still remember a constant repetition;
her affinity for perfection that requires discipline and proportion.
She’s a teacher keenly aware of her pupils’ emotions,
her generosity explained either in time or learning a score;
as a sign and meaning to pedagogical association
with thriving efforts to play the music with technique and precision.
She’s held in the affectionate memory of her pupils,
their collective thoughts about her fittingly honored her
a woman like her with a horizon of meaning to everyone
a true Filipino educator with a glowing torch in her soul
and her music sustained my vocation to go on.
Its magical link to depth and soul of human expression,
its beauty and inspiration that kept me to deepen my own calling;
to make piano sing in the balance of emotion, technique and celebration
a way to experience Him with wonders and beauty – limitless world.
Maraming salamat , Maestra Marina M Diokno!
I really missed you; I really treasured whatever you taught me;
your strong affinity for virtuousity, allegato and sostenuto,
indeed, a memory lane suffused with gratitude and threads of appreciation.
Two hearts in an awesome communication
but covered by bodies which are worshipers of denial.
She adores him, he cherishes her
but such feelings are molded into the formality of colleagues.
Excitement, no matter how little, is suppressed,
appreciation rendered from a falling heart but by casual lips;
attraction, pressures the borders of the mind through its swell
but yet restricted by the protective bunkers of pretense.
When the time for absence to ease the saga comes,
anticipation drafts out a time table
for expectation to put every event on alarm
in both souls which cling to the thoughts of the next reunion.
Ego strips to perform a show on affectionate longing;
he becomes the gold standard to her new lifestyle
while she becomes the detergent to which his actions are washed.
Time once again takes a shift from itself,
internal body signals responding to a meeting, soon to occur.
Face to face, the physical acquaintance is once more blessed
but the corresponding fever has now began to snore,
weakening the whiskers of attraction to stay down.
Executive in the outside, voracious in the inside
with longing spirits towards each other
but confined by dramatized strictness.
Static and fixed concentration but away from her from the guy
with concrete rigidity lasting for long-long minutes.
Expert carefulness and planned accuracy in body movements from the lady
with continuous episodes of deep exhales
coming out of tension’s internal burning sticks.
Avoiding each other’s gazes with admiration’s lips tightly sealed
epitomizing an atmosphere of two minds in one likeness,
yet standing as agents of discomfort to each other.
Heat has unnecessarily been added to a delicacy so spicy
and nothing can blow it out unless someone says something.
her lips quiver
without making a sound...
funeral song
© kashinath karmakar 2012
====================
Placement:1st ;(March 2012)
Contest:Strictly a Stickler for Strictness (haiku)
Sponsor:Charles Henderson
I still wrestle with human afflictions,
when I see others suffering,
groping in the dark of invasion –
where the rich and powerful
become richer, tutors of domination,
over these poor people, my own people.
In a globalized and interdependent world,
the growing technology and culture
speak the same to civilization;
the unknown depths of man’s soul
get neglected in life’s situations.
Our moral compass eclipses
by emerging values of the world;
family ties and faithfulness,
seem to die out now in truth.
I remember the “bar mitzvah”
for Jewish culture and religion
strictness in their formation
for a son or daughter of obligation.
Torah for them – a sacred revelation,
a holy book about God’s laws;
his commandments in various modes,
a guide, indeed, a school for the souls.
Similar to Christian life and religion
a holy bible shared and read across cultures;
but with media invasion in all dimensions
God’s word has now less attraction to some
especially to young people of this generation.
Though I may think the world has changed,
it has become like a free market, a confusion;
with hardly any blueprint of principles –
that carry mankind to be God’s disciples.
How Beautiful Humanity is,
A Piece Of Wandering Souls
Looking up for Immunity, Upon a Soul
Which had been long lost with it's Origin
The Origin is but, The Struggles of our Ancestors
To make a divine living, Beautifully crafted
Out of Love and Affection
The Staff of Oranmiyan, exploring down
The Heart of the flourishing city of Oyo
Dictatorship in it's strictness, So gripping
It dries out the Blessed River of Álàsé
Like flowers fall out in Autumn, Bedridden
We are the Crafts of Life longing for itself
We May house our body,
But the Origin houses our Soul
Which had fallen, Abreast
Maybe I see a lot of Perfection,
In Kahlil Gibran's
He surely is, but a bedrock
Which I set out my tender feet
Into the world of Muses in their most brilliant creation,
The world of Poetry,...... The Rythm of Poets
Our Origin as "POETS"
@ThePoeticMembrane
????
I still wrestle with human afflictions,
when I see others suffering,
groping in the dark of invasion –
where the rich and powerful
become richer, tutors of domination,
over these poor people, my own people.
In a globalized and interdependent world,
the growing technology and culture
speak the same to civilization;
the unknown depths of man’s soul
get neglected in life’s situations.
Our moral compass eclipses
by emerging values of the world;
family ties and faithfulness,
seem to die out now in truth.
I remember the “bar mitzvah”
for Jewish culture and religion
strictness in their formation
for a son or daughter of obligation.
Torah for them – a sacred revelation,
a holy book about God’s laws;
his commandments in various modes,
a guide, indeed, a school for the souls.
Similar to Christian life and religion
a holy bible shared and read across cultures;
but with media invasion in all dimensions
God’s word has now less attraction to some
especially to young people of this generation.
Though I may think the world has changed,
it has become like a free market, a confusion;
with hardly any blueprint of principles –
that carry mankind to be God’s disciples.
Why be worried all the time ?
We're not doing the crime ?
We be fine
Why obey the rules ?
We be fine.
Parent's just can't stop being strict.
They tell us and show the strictness concern because they so called love us.
Sometimes when we are teenagers we get sick of it and fed up it was cool when we were kids for them to be concern but at our teens they always proceed to stay worried.
As long we don't don't drink
Don't do sex
Don't ditch school.
Don't smoke.
Don't break the law rules.
We be fine.
We feel in our teenage minds that they don't trust us to date so young.
Puppy love is like a form of immaturity love transform later on as real love while it grows and grows and rises.
Parent's have their rights and words to be strict.
Have their destiny's to put a curfew on us.
Have their right to not allow their daughters to be unprotective near dangerous deceiving boys and not date them.
My honest opinion is if they are going to date then they should meet a guy that is not twisted with sexual intimacy behavior and treacherous behaviors , but instead act like a decent gentlemen with loyalty honesty creativity great character integrity and a great expression.
Parent's want whats best for the kids.
They been through that stage of young age.
They know what it's like to be young and dumb.
But to me they will never release that strictness.
Don't ditch school to act cool.
Don't smoke at a young age.
Don't do drugs at a young age.
Don't dink at a young age.
Listen
Wait for the right time to date.
Respect them.
Love them.
Cherish
them.
Appreciate them.
And accept the fact that Parent's just will never release that strictness you can't live with them then you can't live without them, because they all you got they are your role models and lastly your guardian beloved angels.
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.
At first, I did once, spending my whole night
Started from the topic I needed to write
Half of pantoum, I dozed off
Felt like floated with the roof
My poem was posted after a week, fight!
All entries were judged after some few months
My poem moved to next page, new poems in front
Mine wasn’t found on the list
After passing judges’ wrist
Whose strictness lied on perfect rhymes and fonts.
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.
autumn winds echo
through bare trees in darkness --
Grandpa whistles
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
fifth place in Charles Henderson's Strictly a Stickler for Strictness
Haiku contest
Form, used to be it;
Structure was
What made it complete.
So all rhymes
And metrical measurements
Were employed in the marking
Of my lines;
And the intertwining
Of the cords formed
By my measured lines.
And the weaving of the cords
To get the strength
I thought was required
To draw the attention
Of the world.
But then the emptiness
That results from the
Firmness and strictness
As against the
Fluidity and harmony
And spirit of
Flowing thoughts-turned-word
On my paper
And on the ear of the listener
As against the colourful imageries
of beauty that poesy is.
I just want to share my poem for my mom's natal day.
God knows who to give to whom,
And I’m so lucky that I was given to you,
Your love is pure and unconditional…
I remember when I was a kid,
I used to hate when I got scolded,
I used to mumble when chores are laid...
Those days I become an escape artist
As your strictness gets into my nerves
But, eventually I realized, it’s for my own sake...
You’ve been strict when I was growing up
You’ve been strict when I was maturing
But, you’ve been my finest teacher in my adulthood...
Forgive me for the days I don’t understand you
Forgive me for the days when I’m not obedient
Because at times I like to fly away with no reason...
Today, Let me just tell the world how proud I am,
Because I’m so blessed, I got the best package in life,
You as my true friend, my mentor, my sister...
And most of all… My MOTHER… I love you indeed…
And then,
As he did everyday,
He woke up from a deep sleep.
He greeted the day with the same care
That he had laid himself down to sleep,
When he bid the day goodbye the night before.
The days were like gifts that couldn’t be returned;
The nights brought peace that he hadn’t fully earned.
As the day proceeded on its own deliberate way,
He followed his prescribed routine without much to say,
With the same care that he did everything,
Gentle, methodical, and true to its given nature.
No doubt, he was weak, prone to strictness, vain,
Like any other man burdened with his own name;
But it offered no great hindrance or undue pain
Beyond what any person feels in dealing with his shame.
As the years passed by, these foibles lessened,
Until he shed his petty little faults
With the same deliberation that he learned his lessons.
The care with which he did his work on any day
Was no less than the care he exerted every day.
Only as he aged, it was care of a different kind,
As the days became a new week, a new month, a new year.
His care was the care of his hands, his eyes, his attitude,
Even his beard and clothing felt the mercy of his care.
It was the care of a virtuoso whose fire still burned bright;
Every note of his violin sounded honest and without slight.
His mind and heart were focused on his duties at hand;
His soul was full, ready for the world’s trials to withstand.
When the day came to an end, as all days must,
He laid himself down to sleep with the same trust
That became a careful presence he garnished over the years.
Nobody noticed his care on this or any other day,
Nor did he notice anything amiss as he fell asleep one night;
But somebody did notice and together they slipped away.
"Smile and laugh when necessary,"
Was what the program said,
"Innocent bliss must be apparent,
But add strictness if needed."
And so around the class that she
Was put to study in,
She was a bouncing ball of fun
With an iron core within.
"Be polite, never talk back,"
The code this time meant,
"Be prudent, and be practical,
Be modest and yet intelligent."
So when at home she was,
The good yet strong-willed daughter
She followed orders and allowed
Herself to be made 'better'.
"Now be sarcastic, be sadistic,"
Was the next instruction,
"Smirk at pain and mock joy,
And prove it through your actions."
So around her 'friends', she was
A cold, merciless evil:
Conforming to the darkness and
Unafraid to kill.
Yes, she lived by a set
Of rules she coded, bit by bit.
She chose to forget her true self
Just so the glass slipper would fit.
The ocean speaks in poetry
Syllables slammed into the sand, sounding out the tides
Like a language uttered by ancient beings
Ripples flicker from the shore, forming words that echo in the crash of waves
Cool, blue-green waters contain the sentences of silent love
Even the wind whispers the condemnation of the structured
The forced strictness of the grammatical,
The drumbeat of raindrops are rhythm enough for the surf
A heartbeat wildly stuttering in a dance of speechless beauty
The grand jete of a ballerina stretching for the sun in the crest of a wave
A quest, unstoppable, for a higher power than gravity.
A music beyond silence yet above sound
A fluent fluctuation in the depths of emotion
A soul surrounded by the stranglehold of purpose
Pulled over the edge of reasoning and into an abyss free of thought,
Free from the confines of the chemical, mechanical, mathematical, logical,
Something that defies the dictates of society
Antonyms that reflect the intangible
Sorrowful joy - memories sunk beneath the spindrift
Lonely love - a bond that will never be broken
Contained vastness - like the ocean beating upon the shore
Poetry.