Best Strong Point Poems
Evasion, the dagger's sharpened strong point
Slowly has pricked love's joy until now gone
Tedious the effort to time appoint
Verbiage to one who speaks from heart of stone
Fluffy moisture laden clouds float across
the blue sky, gentle breeze stirs heart's desire
Thus love's awakening to you like dross
Intimacy through deep channels expire
Can love's embers be rekindled to flaming
hot Tabasco Sauce, open up cold heart
Let in spring's whispers of love not blaming
Uncork the closed mind to thoughts uncharted
Let not evasion of thoughts and needs trap
Reach forth and receive all from love's tap
Finis'.......
Just for PD
Finished May 16, 2014
I was working for Jack Daymond, a farmer,
who farmed livestock, potatoes and vines.
I s’pose he had over two hundred cattle.
The spuds and the grapes grew in lines.
Oh gawd! Jack had me slaving ‘til sunset,
keeping his farm spick and span.
Jack kept his eyes on the produce,
while I was his cleaning up man.
And that meant me days were all busy,
spraying and killing off weeds,
grubbing out hundreds of tussocks,
before the darn thing set its seeds.
Sometimes old Jack was a good bloke,
he’d jump in with a fine helping hand,
and we’d spend our day in the paddock,
destroying the weeds on his land.
We were digging out plenty of thistles,
in the north paddock up near the creek,
and we worked like a couple of Trojans
clearing what should have taken a week.
Then a voice loudly filled up the air.
And it was quite menacing too.
A bloke in a suit was striding to us,
declaring his strong point of view.
“Mr. Daymond, I am here to warn you,
that I represent government’s need.
It appears that with government water,
that your quota you far did exceed.”
“I’m here to check your irrigation,
and make sure you’re not being unfair.”
Jack Daymond replied “Do what you must,
but don’t go in that paddock up there.”
The bloke in the suit became snaky,
standing over poor Jack with a leer,
“Don’t tell me where I can or can’t go,
See this card that I am holding here.”
“This card is a reminder to you,
I have authority over your land.
I am allowed to go wherever I wish,
have I made myself clear? Do you understand?'
Jack looked down at the card in his hand,
and knew there’s no sense to rebound,
so Jack nodded politely and joined me,
grubbing thistles from out of the ground.
It appeared that Jack had been beaten,
and in silence he’s taking it hard,
between thistles he gazed to the paddock,
at the bloke who had shown him the card.
But then a grin formed on his face,
we heard yelling like never before,
for the bloke in the suit he was sprinting,
and it’s something we cannot ignore.
Jack beat me on reaching the fence.
With the bloke in the suit in full flight,
and hot in pursuit was Jack’s Jersey bull,
with a look that was all sheer delight.
As the bloke in the suit got beside us,
with the bull behind him by a yard,
Old Jack cupped his hands and yelled out -
“Your card! Your card! Show him your card!”
High School was not my favorite place
Though I had fun, I often felt out of place
Most of what I learned I would never use
Some of what I learned I put to good use
If your strong point is a love of learning
Work hard and keep that focus burning
Since school is never out forever
It's time to refocus your endeavor
Clearly on the more important things
Of the truth and all the joy it brings.
Who Do You Think I Am?
Do you think I'm disabled?
With known problems, a member of the gang;
Or do you think I'm a nerd,
With my computer always switched on?
Do you think I'm a geek?
With books my greatest pleasure;
Or am I a cross-dresser?
With chinos for composure?
Or maybe you think I'm the fastest footswitch user in the world?
As CALL Scotland of Edinburgh University told me so in 1985;
The footswitch being the device I use to operate my computer:
They did not know I was a home gamer/programmer and used my hands,
Albeit with a keyguard, a metal overlay on top of the keyboard:
Anyway, it’s not how you use your computer that matters -
That’s private to yourself, it’s a transparency;
What matters is what you say on it and what’s your advocacy.
I am, and always have been, an atheist,
Believing that there is no god at all,
Knowing that people matter,
And that good times are gonna call,
If you’re kind and loving, that is,
And give people the respect they’re due,
You have an understanding that comes from knowing,
That relationships are rational too.
When I was 3 or 4,
My parents asked me to carry my own Bible to church,
So I just said no, that I couldn’t physically do that;
We were already 5 minutes late,
But they nonetheless scolded me for insolence and wanting attention,
Called me delinquent, with an obstinate streak:
I just looked at them and quietly said,
“No, I'm an atheist!’: they’d used the word often in denunciation;
But they just scowled at me in retribution.
I found life so hard sometimes,
That I often would think that I was essentially disabled,
But deep down I've always known myself to be an atheist,
Wanting normal things like radio, TV, my friends and books,
Wishing I could relate to another atheist or youth;
So when I left home, I felt loved, respected and appreciated,
Because people accepted my diversity and atheistic ways,
Such that my difference became my strong point and my always.
The ship was rounding the point when the Island appeared.
Fog was covering the coast, an illusion in the blue infinity.
Cardinal points showed signs from North, where Seasons interfered,
As new dimensions laid upon the mast, forming from salt divinity.
Sailors stepped into the shore, while stars looked like a point of light.
Wind-bound hands touched the sand, like a breeze moving the leafs.
No points given, a land unknown unfolding in the middle of the night,
Dropping its treasures on the ground of new visions and motifs.
A point of departure from Darkness to Light, some trembling shifts.
This Island embraced their fears as a breath against the waves.
At this point of no return, they committed to their soul wavy lifts,
As faith formed new colors to draw their eternal, golden caves.
There is no point of vision other. Trees were their echoes of joy.
Cliffs and waterfalls childhood dreams that didn't have to end.
A night's strong point far from the ocean's insistence to dent and to destroy
A new life they needed to share as one, a new promise to defend.
What is the point when you leave from the Island of redemption?
To be condemned with points of conscience faint, to break what is joint?
This last stop, yet missing point, should be from life's deduction the exception,
This diversity you ignore should be your own truth's memory.. Match point.
Gluteus Maximus
That Gladiator of Rome
Got into such a rage
That his mouth did foam,
He cursed and snarled
And snarled and cursed,
Yet things didn’t improve
But got much worse;
His fists beat the ground
And he spat into the air,
No one dare come close
When his temper did flare.
Obviously struggling
To undo a knot so big
Wasn’t his strong point,
He couldn’t give a fig!
Unable to get to grips
With those darn leather laces
His sandals caused such scowls
And grotesque grimaces...
So, aren’t you grateful
That he isn’t alive today?
That bad tempered warrior
Your life he would slay
Just with one of his black looks
Or a growl at your face,
You’d probably explode
With only a trace
Of smoke and shoes
Left where you did stand,
Nothing but grey ashes
On the Coliseum’s red sand!
Fragile from the start,
Amazing I stood on my own two feet
I was younger, smaller,
Female, weak,
And strength was never my strong point.
A mummy’s girl
Clingy, strange
In a world gone mad.
Shy of my own voice
Whispering in a crowd of screams.
Quivered after the beatings,
Never stood up and said ”no”
I would have run, but nowhere to go
And strength was never my strong point.
Only answered back when heads were turned,
Falling on deaf ears
My whispers
I n a crowd of screams.
Id never amount to much,
Only had dreams’
And dreams are a burden
To the bully’s Flightless
Under the weight of their own grief.
Strength was never my strong point,
But here I am all the same
Firm, unmovable,
And here I am,
in that crowd of screams
Little whispers got up
And began to sing.
Some people will only say they love you
If you fit into their tidy li'l box, it's true
Don't be afraid to disappoint
Uniqueness is your strong point
To stand naked in a crowd is an ultimate coup
Argument was never a strong point.
Based on what I know than I used it.
War was never part of the list
When being right never matters most
Doing right was of outmost importance
Never let your voice be heard by the deafs.
Let your work be seen by the blinds
Fill the heart of those who are troubled with joy.
Heaven will blow horns for your work.
Touch the souls of the deads with strings.
Keep the distance of haters away from your goal
Let be peace between the heart,the mind and soul
Bring future to those who has given up the battle.
Let be light in the eyes on dawn.
Rested are those who has found eternal peace
Lend a hand to those who has a wish
Blessed is the heart that never envies
The soul that never curse
The mind that never witches
But the mouth that encourages with wisdom.
TREASURE-HUNTER:
I didn't come this far by chance,
Because I didn't have the map based on my stance.
I'm not a pirate hiding to plunder,
Neither am I just a passenger,
Travelling in search for a greener pasture.
I've confided myself in the heavenly King.
The one in whom the world exists.
Trials have laid on me necessities to learn.
And at every minute do I raise my pen,
Jotting down everything for future reference.
I might not be around to jump on defence,
To easily explain this journey at an expense.
The learned will understand this essence,
Which will make my narrative very simple.
I'm a modern day prehistoric man adorned in ancient apron.
Living in the land of civilisation,
My cognition is primitively hooked.
Dwelling in the bossom of integration,
I'm no way conforming to be a crook.
The bellow blows in the midnight,
Causing me to rise and stay over night.
I watch the fireflies in the field,
As they create beautiful spiral motions as they thrill.
I appear with a strong point of hope,
Of which I don't struggle to uphold.
I'm on deliberate routes digging for gold,
So I don't care even if I'm old.
Perhaps, I'm the last survivor,
Searching through ages for survival.
And nothing is really breaking me down,
Since at last I will wear the crown.
Call me the treasure-hunter,
And I will answer.
Apologise no more!
I’m sorry if I offended you,
My intention it was not, let’s be clear.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
Tact is not my strong point I fear.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
My colour won’t change, your attitude can.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
Let’s take a look at how this began.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
Though you took my people to enslave.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
If my ancestors were too brave.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
You see this ‘sickness’ is part of me.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
With my vow not to flee.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
By refusing to give up the fight.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
In being just and right.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
That I will not lay down and die.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
In not accepting your oppression, no matter how hard you try.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
My spirit is a gift I’m afraid.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
In God’s reflection I was made.
I’m sorry If I offended you,
I refuse to bow to thee.
I’m if sorry If I offended you,
For you are not My Almighty.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
Your perspective I may not change.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
But counselling I can arrange.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
As it’s clear as day and night.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
For it’s Your perception of black and white.
I’m sorry if I offended you,
Is this apology just a token?
I’m sorry if I offended you,
It’s You not Me who’s broken.
anticipation. a strong point, a big move, a big change. Ready? willing?
Love and Law. Two factors in possible restriction or obligation.
To say unitentional, an indirect yeet intimate approach.
An indirect yet belligerant approach, a contradiction
A tear, torn, indecisive. The contradictor, almost contradictory,
like mirror reflecting mirror and everything in between. This world revolves
around this reflection. Logical, artistic, or quiestion? Sanity, and you queston
yours. To be taught so your entire life. And to he and she until now, except for he
and she and you are tautology expert. I don't want to, need to hear it again. and to
reassure you. the thought has crossed my mind.
He made me look at my insecurities with braveness
His hands of abuse could not scare me
So, I kept quiet and only gave him an eye and said a short prayer while his voice went over the roof top as he shouted to impress those who were watching
Little did he know that I survived
I survived terror, trauma and a worst deal of pain
At that very minute nothing could hurt me more than he could
My fear became my strong point!
My laughter at heart was giggles having a deep eye interaction conversation with a monster
His hormones were not at a steadiness but in rage
His voice was more certain than the loud music I used to be played and all my myth became my truth
At that moment he became a published book of bad errors and mistakes with a poor grammar
This was so rare to me that his desirable rage was filled with hurt and that it could be academically awarded a medal for a movie displaying right in front of my eyes
A rare me was more certain than desirable to see nakedly how the devil looks in soul
He was terror, trauma and a great deal of pain but I could not break but survive
Poet
Masego Nkuna
I am from the midnight sunset
dreamt on by angels
From a cut in half oak tree
residing on a corner
I am from the machine made earthquake
that rocks the beds
and frightens the children inside their heads
I am from a dance in the rain
in the middle of the road
to a walk in the park
when the sun is shown
I am from the rush
of a thousand eyes
with no hesitation
From an argument
that has already been won
but not ended
I am from a strong point of view
that holds a voice
with a need to be noticed
and not thrown aside by choice
I am from the art of expression
through hand written
and typed word
I am from long letters
both heartfelt and meaningful
sometimes surprising
the ones that seem to be absurd
I am from tears on my keyboard
typing what was impossible to say
as a God wasn't there to hear me pray
I am from lyrics
that not only change
but saved
I am from turning off the lights
turning up the volume
and disappearing
I am from feeling understood
without being known
and being accepted
without being told
I am from insecurities
that just won't go away
From keeping a straight face
so no one can see the pain
I am from big arms
and a fat face
while looking at girls that don't show a trace
I am from looking at mirrors and beginning to cry
because I can't stop the hate
that goes through my mind
I am from a childhood filled with harm
with words and actions
that will never leave my brain's arms
I am from that mom everybody though was great
because they didn't see her yell without restraint
I am from confusion of love and hate
because nobody was there to tell me how to differentiate
I am from the non-existent blood on my hands
as she always told me it was my fault
she was in reprimands
I am from the pain I feel everyday
because when the monster left
it took my mom away
I'll tell you about something that is rotten to the core.
When outside of church, some preachers cuss like sailors.
My friend saw some of these preachers who like to cuss.
They should be ashamed, preachers are supposed to set an example for the rest of us.
When they cuss, they anger God because it's like slapping him in the face.
Morality is not their strong point, what they're doing is truly a disgrace.
Out of all of the people in the world, preachers are the ones who should never swear.
Those preachers are not God fearing people and it is just too much for me to bear.
This makes me angry and Jehovah God and I are both filled with disgust.
It proves that the world is lost when we see preachers who we can't trust.
(Sadly, this is a true story.)