Best Subtile Poems
Question persists in the back of my head,
What do I see when through windows I look?
I see the nature, its hilltops, a brook,
Glideth like snake to horizon ahead.
I see the people, old fisherman’s face,
Girl is so joyful to hop there and run,
Hair is of hers into ponytail done,
While she delights in her butterfly chase.
I see the weather that's whistling its way,
Rays are such artists, so skilful when paint,
Hills with the colours and shadows which faint,
Playing the flute to this vivid display.
I see the lines of a silhouette blear,
That over view and its wonderful theme,
Hover in front or perhaps in the rear,
In such a way that the girl, hills and stream,
Which are so joyful and so full of cheer,
Only as subtile reflection mine seem.
Reaching into depth of our inner-selves,
sharing each other’s emotions in the
subtile unspoken atmosphere.
Interpreting the individual’s qualities,
influenced by family, religion, education, land.
Transcending borders of race, creed, and territory, are those who remain courageous. Guided by Holy Spirit, they take their stand for innocence, proclaiming the coming of the new heavens and the new earth.
Traveling open-minded through foreign cultures enriches one’s ability to bond in love, empathy, and spirit.
Politically neutral wherever they live; humbly united while awaiting Divine intervention to obliterate hate, injustice, and human rule.
Love—— the mark of true Christians.
I met Carl Marx in a bookstore
hanging around in the classics, waiting
some casual reader's mind to seduce
his weaver, painter, plowhorse, produce
a strange dream of worker equality
the value of labor, everyman matters,
An oxcart teeters, ideas splatter
into his subtile, beguiling reasoning
I read on, in a dream, this worker paradise
A place where each of our labors have worth
If I study and become a doctor of medicine
I am the same as the welder and the shopkeeper
I felt the burdens of the laborer upon me
I saw his vision of classlessness preside
I wanted to buy that book! but it's silly
I am a capitalist, shamelessly bourgeois..
The midnight seashore breeze come’s calling….
With it’s subtile perplexities intertwined with lure
Remindful of days and moments once frittered
Climbing and straining our way to grand future
Which we were certain would somehow be better
Than that very moment we then held in our grasp
Now shown in recollection upon more solemn reflection
To have been far sweeter than the success we now clasp.
So now in this moment upon same scented breeze
Float longing’s of our past and treasured memories
Twinged with regrets of our shortsighted desire
To surrender our days in our rush and aspire
To stand here today with possessions and power
Having trampled the moment of our greatest hour
The mistletoe seed, doth feed,
Like the mind’s seed, of greed,
An ample example,.....................................................................................(Romans 1:20)
Upon it’s host,
Like a cancerous growth,
Will eventually kill, body of soul,
Adam and Eve were told,........................................................................(Genesis 2:16-18)
Before Eve mold,
Warned of the death in a mind quest,
Now the serpent mind, beastly inclined,
More subtile, than beast of field,................................................................(Genesis 3:1-22)
The mind spoke to Eve,
Is that so hard to believe,
Our minds speak to us every day,
To sway us away, from love's way,
To sway, Eve’s true purpose away,
T'was the mind’s beguile, begat seed, wild child,
And change paradise, to a natural world, in peril,
Now sacred heart, holds in store,
Our real pearl, in our inner world,
Now for God’s glory, the rest of the story,
Womanhood; of the world oppressed,
Fault; the mind’s quest,
But she has birthed; at God’s request,.........................................................(Luke 1:26-38)
She has birth the glory; the rest of story,
The Christ; our sacrifice,
Having saved, the world from peril,
Womanhood; a wonder girl,
She’s; your sugar and spice,
She; Christly nice,
Soft, fluffy, no fleas,
Guys please,
She’s; Your minds ease,
No woman, makes a man,
Live from his mind,
That’s his choice, by his own voice,
Death's seed, is parasitic of the mind,
Heart seed, is life,
To each his own; Leave womanhood alone,
Work out your own soul’s salvation,
Send the mind’s death thoughts on an extended vacation!!
9-13-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Dedicated to womanhood all over the world. And a
special personal thanks to all you special ladies, here
on Soup. Consider this to be your dozen red roses on
next mother’s day, from me, as that would be the appropriate,
day to post this poem. You are God’s best, take your rest,
let your birth of Christ’s love manifest!
“ Lovingly, John Moses Freeman”
Ps.There is a touch of irony in the story flow, not in the words. See it you can catch it!
I didn't untill I had already posted and was re-reading it!
Graceful sits her hand upon his arm as they enter
He in his tails and best, she in silver splendor
His eyes scan for those that would covet her form
Her eyes search for men rich, widowed and forlorn
His goal tonight to catch her in a situation indelicate
Her goal to continue in high society and sophisticate
Thus, the dance begins
As she flirts with coy and non subtile implied ways
he roves the crowd waiting for her to finally stray
She has culled out her next meal ticket
While he is hiding, waiting in a laurel thicket
To be a mistress, aging, is the death knoll
For one who never put away for future goals
She and her senior aged new par amour
stroll along the garden, into the darkened core
just when it is she is about to close the deal
Out he jumps, proclaiming his true love he does steal
And thus he is free to find a younger soiled dove
And she is thus inclined to marry, but not for love
Thus, the dance ends