Best Successors Poems
Star-crossed lovers? Not even close
The two were brought together at first sight, it seemed no future
Came from different families. One with an alcoholic mother. The other, never even saw a glimpse of his father.
The tale of two, both had only one pursue.
The feeling of gentle, soft, light, addictive emotion.
None had no clear dreams of tomorrow.
The nights are filled with courtship, a chase to impress the other.
One moment hot, one moment cold, the rest, just right.
Like a ripping mango, once green, now grew shades of yellow.
The days came, after one another. Filled with tears both of melancholy and joy.
Trials after trials, the tests made them tougher, stronger, milder.
Fights came about, shouts, screams, pure disaster.
Struggles were like winter. A way to make them closer, together, sharing warm laughter.
From there, the fruit of their shared endeavors resulted in four successors.
Each one varies, much like the seasons.
Yet all dream of creating presents to give to their creators.
Time ages all. Time heals it all. Time makes it all.
The two continues to smile together.
Reminiscing the past, revisiting memories that lasts.
They both continue to live, only to paint a better picture.
Time creates it all. Time tells it all. Time knows it all.
When will the two fall? When will it all dull?
Together, the two will awaken, the two will never be broken, the two will happen.
UNDER THE FATHER LAND
We serve under the father land
In huminity we render
Selfless services in cosmopolitanism
In peace-less and troubless downtown
We inhabit as national stuccoers
With the aids of the bourgeoisies
Starvation, annihiliationists and insurrectionists
Famish the proletariats
We serve under the father land
Where the national integration is but tribal
Our forerunners neither retire nor die
As their successors grow older
Anti crime commits crime in crimeless communities
Where we smell not the throne
Yet, we're the leaders of tomorrow
When our tomorrow is afflicted with sorrow
We serve under the father land
When we die in bloody combat
In pursuit of national unity
We receive superfluous medication after death
When the copy of a copy is off the tracks
Lingering to the land of no mean city
Oh! the Cross is too heavy
But we're the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the farther land
When we're dichotomized, massacred
With our immaculate neoclassical ideologies
In racial milieu
We hike sheepishly in an unknown land
With vigorous expectations in future
But the future features fruitless flowers
Yet, we're still the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the father land
When we diminish our trivial capital
In selfless services
To the in impoverishers
But the father denies the children's welfare
Shall we perpetuate these?
If right we must be
Then fatherless we must be
The cross will be the crown'd
Blind eyes shall see
The pyramid
Our tomorrow is but yesterday
When the skeletonic promises will be fulfill'd
then shall the leaders the youths be
Our precious blood shall be sav'd
The national combat must be dignified
(Opurum Precious: Nigeria)
Copyright © odiboyp 2016
She tells me,
Of the belt of hunger that clings to her waist,
Of how it's only ever loosened by rampaging and rummaging through waste.
She tells me,
How her journey through payments, predicaments and pavements make her tire,
How her cracked feet and wracked heart are passed by Tyre after Tyre.
She tells me,
About the intricate diagnoses and prognoses that riddle her every fiber, vessel and vein,
About the cardboard pleas and pleads that have all been in vain.
She tells me,
That this is the existence her weeping womb has bred,
That her hope for her successors is that they may succeed her in the fight for bread.
She tells me,
Her name is poverty.
Do you remember her?
Specter of a Hero's Tortured
Soul
Forfeiting faith to successors to
sacrifice self for others...he
believes not in himself but his
progeny...
Eternal life and inflexible
determination prevent waning
love...his ceaseless adoration
powerful to the point of self
harm...
Unwillingness to ever relinquish
the shards of his heart...or the
memory of possible fates...
Soul scarred with unfathomable
secrets and wounds...alone and
concealed he is known to not
even himself...
Heart struggling to conquer
inner demons and loss...mind
overworked to find salvation
from hell's burning wrath...
Indescribable like smoke blown
through trees on a moonless
night...
Intricately woven to be as
substantial as the steam which
fuels his passion...
Never surrendering...never
retreating...never giving in to
any opposition...
Steadfast and valiant he will
never be
conquered...unreadable and
undecipherable...he will never
be understood...
It's Hogmanay the 31st
Only alchahol to quench the thirst
Its time again for the new year plan
Let's start the calendar with a bang
Resolutions, solutions and promises
Each with their own their always is
But the secret, the key to achieve
Is to think and choose realistically
Epiphanies and life style choices
Are often mistaken to easily anew
Only the true, genuine and determined
Are the successors who make it through
What I'm trying to say is don't set the bar too high
Without real commitment your limits are not the sky
Don't fill yourself up with false hopes and lies
Such as desires far to hard to try
Blue Iris,
Grimoire gondolas steal unbound human yawns,
Each Charon poised with sallow spear along the River:
Austere laughter of headless boughs
sipping grave-scented spiritual kisses.
Gruel to Drinking Fear you do coerce,
Till evil flees the dawn within its hearse.
I shall not warn my successors, no—instead
I shall laugh
A Godless laugh
From this unlit, inward tower
At the Thoms ever drawn to a fog-rent
Harbor of Lights,
Forever in flight
t’wards a searing promise:
“The shadow of your smile when you are gone.”
Softly flows
The Months; cadence down
The end of Years,
All Great Whites closely duty-bound
Gleaned russet stress and tears.
All I do
As gardens do
As zephyr hewn
Is wash my hands
I watch my hands
Just watch them grow—
Closing impossible crimes
By the cold March of Time.
Shall I catastrophe? I shall wasp anew
Geronimo! hellbent swoons: withered Eye see U:
A veldt vision on this peace of death
That singes arrows unto my breast,
Non-quietus—not of suede nor hawthorn
That singing! Unveiled Vistas Reborn.
The summer breeze made chill wastrel flames,
E'en herrings dappled across minstrel viridian
All bearing my name.
Subtlety
Is your root, surely as I inhale the palpitations
Of this noxious City so small
Yet so grand in its delusion.
Rachel or Leah? Suffice it (and damn it, too), at least Jacob’s subtle darkness
Invited crystal warmth to dine on elegant raindrops. At Life I laugh,
And Life laughs long, dreamy along kestrel seams. I dine
On sweet air.
Despised dream origin.
Quickly, quickly, awaken me—unwrap
Your blessed hearths, creature,
And begone—I despise
Your balance of whimsy; I despise
All of your beauty.
THIRUK-KURAL on not offending the Great*: Periyaaraip Pilaiyaamai - Canto 90, K899 and K900
[* The "Great" here are indifferently the King or other learned and wise people whom the King ought to respect and fear. In this canto, Thiru-Valluvar repeats himself (though elegantly, cf. K899 & K900) - unless it were for the purpose of reinforcing the idea of the weak who dare pit themselves against the strong and powerful - and contrariwise the strong and cruel meet the same fate of ruin if they incurred the wrath of the noble and virtuous-minded. It is evident nothing anti-authoritarian was permitted or conceivable in his time. Yet, reflect on how Lenin outlived the Tsars; Solzhenytsin and Pasternak - Stalin and his successors, just as George Washington - the British Imperial Crown; Vietnam veterans - Nixon; Li Xiaobo - thanks to the Nobel Committee and other campaigners like Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International who would shut an eye to wanton persecution within Western democracies - Xi of the Peoples Republic; the German Jews - Hitler; but NOT the one-man (Sri Lankan) opposition leader Jeyaretnam in Lee Kuan Yew's Singapore.]
K899: eenthiya kolkaiyaar siirin idaimurinththu
veenthanum veenthu kedum
When blazes forth the wrath of men of lofty fame,
Kings even fall from high estate and perish in the flame. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
If those of exalted vows burst in a rage, even (Indra) the king will suffer a sudden loss and be entirely ruined. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Should the virtuous in lofty positions become angry, even the king (of kings) will fall from high heaven. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
K900: iranthuamaintha saarpudaiyar aayinum uyyaar
siranththuamaintha siiraar cherin
Though all-surpassing wealth of aid the boast,
If men in glorious virtue great are wrath, they're lost. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
Though in possession of numerous auxiliaries, they will perish who are exposed to the wrath of the noble whose penance is boundless. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
No way the powerful can avoid downfall should they offend and incur the wrath of the noble-minded greats. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Father Christ called apostles
Be His collaborators
They were His eye witnesses
Apostles are priests and teachers
Holds fast their tradition
Governed by their successors
Successor was first pope, St. Peter
To now 2013, Pope Francis,
5042013
Rites and Wrongs
This write suggests the search of many slants
Pursuing words of truth you hold most clear.
Stand sober toward the charlatans whose rants
Exact belief in those susceptible to fear.
Reflections on the tomes of writers past
Remark agendas with a want to bring
To light the mystic words that prophets cast
Which spread the lofty rumor of a coming King.
A rock holds sway while scratches on a stone
Prescribe the path of hallowed righteousness.
Successors to the dozen set the tone -
The mind that dares diverge invites the hot abyss.
The stream that's meant to wash away the stain
Which nascent blooms bear from the first of breath
Presumes we bleed not pure but earned our pain-
A wrenching debt, but spares an endless tortured death.
We know not why the wind sweeps insolence
Into the space of grayish rooms unseen
And presses some to scoff at reverence
For black-robed shadows knelt and bowed in holy scene.
Lawless acts to shelter sins are fraught
With hushed consort by fiends so likely bent
Who offer haven when their rogues are caught.
Whose shrouded malice deemed a minor, lone event.
But yet the seething silence in the guise
Of those whose offered trust was so defiled
Is broken only by their troubled cries.
A shameful stigma preyed upon them as a child.
So tremble not to dash the age-old trends
With questions bracing your unruly airs.
Yea, stand alone, if need be, from your friends
For surely your slant deems as much respect as theirs..
He said, he said
I am history it is not dead.
I do testify,
that they ask for more than an alibi.
My face alone! Metal to bone.
See how their discretions lie,
as trampled footpaths to my home.
He said, he said,
Division lives, but not in my head.
Privileged accusation.
It is MY face and my proud vocation
under fire.
Who is the liar?
Inflamed again with grand oration,
successors of the hateful choir.
I said, I said,
I don't know what it's like to be dead.
But I do know well,
of those who get kissed and tell,
Nay Preach! All to well,
Of tension that, but for their word,
Would cease to live, to hell return.
If we could breach this gap,
Abolish chains separating us from the right track,
If we could read this untapped map,
Unlock the enigma from butterfly to cocoon sack,
Age would be a meaningless facade,
Along with race it'd have no face,
In this place it'd be an impact-less wad,
Unguarded stars under God amidst space,
Forever changed generation to regeneration,
If we could uncover what was lost,
From the point of influentially susceptible penetration,
Before condensation to storm until frost,
To bring back colorless consideration,
And no concern for money and priceless possessions,
Lace that into daily adulthood preparation,
Then adults could answer children's burning questions,
Grown folks could produce unbiased successors in succession,
Then we could have peace and harmony,
And from their mistakes we'd teach unprejudiced correction,
Far from you and me without the armory,
Full of guns they could settle cultural quarrels,
They'd do that day what we won't tomorrow,
Because they'd have better morals and their laurels,
Free of sorrows and anger to borrow.
Optimizing my essence-verity
being a contributor to ecology’s beauty
since for such I was created* by the Almighty…
allow me now to advertise my blessed bounty
as the lone surviving specie’s variety!
Have you tasted me with my offered "palatability?"
I was once a staple food in yesterday’s society
packed With antioxidant-capacity
along ready availability, and not found guilty of toxicity…
savour now my nutritive values of beneficial generosity!
You can’t belittle my ornamental products’ magnificent quality
revealing artistry marked by partnership-flexibility
of nature’s simplicity engaged with human’s dexterity
for handcrafted gifts and tokens of precious sentimentality…
check now my financial participation to workmanship’s intensity!
Bidding adieu calls for prudent sobriety
and I indeed believe that I have successors with integrity
to sow seeds of grace, kindness, and love’s purity
against extinction, greed and survival-of-the-fittest tenacity…
thus; now, I still see my family thriving with fruitful “acornic” stability!
*Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
April 29, 2020
Personification in Monorhyme
Honorable Mention, "BRIAN'S CHOICE A,any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/13/2020.
ECHOES FROM THE LIFFEY.
I hear it loud and clear,
A clarion call for the Irish,
A call to awaken our inner strength and rediscover the true us,
Even the walls echo it.
Motherland beckons,
The lush green fields needs weeding,
The time for grazing is long overdue for our livestock,
Even Our thoughts needs nourishment.
What happened to the sweat and blood of our forefathers?
To build a home for prosterity,
An enclave with vast opportunities,
A home for all.
The flight started with trekkers of leisure,
Soon it became trekkers for pastures greener,
Leaving in its wake a near desolate land,
Where the old yearn for their successors.
No thanks to the men in suits,
Whose misadventures led us down this path.
An unwinding route of doom and gloom,
A nations nightmare.
Mother Ireland weeps,
Wishing for daybreak to be nigh,
To dry up the tracks of her tears,
And silence the echoes from the liffey.
J.D.C AHUMIBE.
NEWBRIDGE, COUNTY KILDARE.
REPUBLIC OF IRELAND.
Forgotten to woo.
Cuckoo singing classical
Successors in shell
The attributes of the Church is three: authority, infallibility and indefectibility
By the authority of Church I mean the right and power which the Pope and the Bishops, as the successor of the Apostles have to reach and govern the faithful
By the infallibility of the Church I mean the Church cannot err when it teaches a doctrine of faith and morals
By the indefectibility of the Church I mean that the Church as Christ founded it, will last till the end of time
These attributes are found in their fullness in the Pope, visible head of the Church, whose infallible authority to teach bishops, priests, and people in matters of faith and morals will last till the end of the world
The Church has 4 marks by which it may be known, it is One, it is Holy, it is Catholic, it is Apostolic
The Church is One because all its members agree in one faith, are all in one communion, and are all under one Head
The Church is Holy because it’s under Jesus Christ, is holy; because of the eminent holiness of so many thousands of its children
The Church is Catholic or Universal because it subsists in all ages, teaches all nations, and maintains all truth
The Church is Apostolic because it was founded by Christ on His Apostles and is govern by their lawful successors, and because it has never ceased, and never will cease, to teach their doctrine
These attributes and marks are found in the Holy Roman Catholic Church alone
The Church derives to its undying and infallible authority from the Holy Spirit, the spirit of truth, who abides with it forever
The Church is kept One, Holy Catholic by the Holy Spirit, the spirit of love and holiness, who unites and sanctifies its members throughout the world.