Best Supplanting Poems
To say the universe always existed violates every concept of our logic.
The origin of our totality could not have been a spontaneous event.
A beginning requires a beginner. We have no concept of what always was, except by supplanting what might be with what is through faith. Faith permits us to believe the incredible, which means; extraordinary things do not always require empiricle evidence.
Faith is unconstructed. It's a gift. It's either presented to you through conviction, or it's not. You eiher possess it, or you do not.
With faith, we know love and with love we find strength. Without faith, love cannot exist and without love, existance would be inconsequential.
To deny the existance of God is to doubt the love in our own significance...
Whenever I... do remember you
Whenever I...
do remember you...
I feel..a tender warmth,
consoling my pain, as,
your compassionate heart
was what rescued me...
from the bane,
of my fractured state.
Shine on, dear one!
Whenever I...
do remember you...
unsurpassed joy...
washes over me,
like a tidal wave,
vanquishing my sorrow, and,
refreshing my aching soul.
Shine on, dear one!
Whenever I...
do remember you...
a placid peace,
overwhelms my mind,
supplanting charcoal skies,
with resplendent beaming rays,
from your shining eyes.
Shine on, dear one!
Whenever I...
do remember you...
I come alive, resurrected by,
the fragrance of your love,
I am revived, by inhaling,
perfumed memories of our...
amour sans fin.
Shine on, dear one!
John Derek Hamilton
April 24,2018
born under the sea, an irresistible force
two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
equatorial deep-time child of Laurentia and Avalonia
journey northward, surfacing, submerging
surfing the waves again, a colder Hibernian dalliance
precariously perched on Eurasian plate
old bedrock confused, youthful erosion above the ancient order
darkness entombed around channelled winter light
early New Grange civilisation, the Boyne valley before the blood
river mouth vikings, raiding, assimilating
birth of the coming capital, eastern stronghold, Baile Atha Cliath
chain-mail Norman conquerors castle-building
appointing pious supplicants with sword, cloth, crook and cross
wholly unholy alliances unravel
rival hierarchies sharing ill-gotten earthly reward from overseas
saintliness, brutality, men and women
expanding Christendom, pagan kingdoms adjusting to defeat
Patrick, Brigid, Columba, Columbanus
Irish civilising roman catholic conduits, Dalriata to Lindisfarne
outreaching, a strand of Irish character
yet to encounter future revisionary metaphysical thought
protestant rebellion, mainland overspill
praying elites competing, preying on the island's god-fearing people
avian watchers on Skellig pinnacles
warm ocean currents well-up, catching the southwestern gale
enduring the ill-will of nature and man
supplanting, subjugating, saving souls, the power of might and fear
treachery within or well beyond the pale
fair and dark hair, ginger genetics existing on the edge of life
tossed thin people hanging on, many leaving
scraping blighted ground, returning to the sea, promise of the unknown
The Infernal Serpent
coiled ’round the soul of man
strangles the love and understanding
imbued by the Creator
supplanting it with hatred and distrust.
The result
conflict
Collection: Attaining Peace
Written: June 2019
I know that I have called this a sonnet, and I recognise that it falls short of such an esteemed form, but it is my first attempt, please forgive me.
in SUPPORT of GOOGLE'S SELF DRIVE CAR
a black tarmac warrior
a technology killing humanity worrier
plotting a course at one hundred kilometres an hour
his fatigued mind begins to wander
they want to take away his freedom
to replace his skills and wisdom
superseding his brain with one of silicon
technology supplanting humanity beyond his reason
Isaac and I Robot showed the way
when with technology protecting humanity we will rue the day
while his mind remains resolute, his car begins to sway
because humanity in control is the only way
then in his old age, his is the first generation
with no licence, but independent automated motion
Dear son,
I am told I should tell you things not in books
It is hard for me to begin
Your mother said only what is in the book I know
I think my dilemma is neither you nor I
But the whole purpose of the book
This letter may turn into if I try to understand me.
And if I am not in the picture
Then your existence becomes questionable. We must
Establish our need for more than mere presence
And this makes us listening to each other significant,
Make this letter existentially important
And you significantly more important than either of us think
I do not read books because I believe all books
Books took a wrong turn just by their necessity to speak
And to make speech more permanent than memory
They disrupted a whole tradition of history to write
What we were, and are becoming
By making picture out of words for reflection
As they tell us who we are
Without beat of tongue, and rhythm of gesticulation
That surrounded the melody of oral communication.
The literary man made an ulterior civilization
Telling us with barbed cynicism: the pen is mightier than the sword
I handled all books carefully like a weapon
For in them are seeds of destruction
Not intended alone for our history
But for the civilization of our identity.
My dear son
Every structure and fiber of our imagination
Is no longer about us
For we have been reduced to incongruous metaphors
Supplanting faith in history
Supplanting us with toxic ideas of utopia
Knowing full well for this dream
There is no remembrance after sleep
For waking is an hypnosis for those in too deep.
Even as I proclaim this preamble on clutches.
Sequestered from mundane oration
Until this spell from Earth’s rotation
Meanders from my frozen gaze.
Melting clouds in pastel plush,
Evanescent waning rays,
Recant my vision’s wanderlust.
Slivered shards of ruby hues,
Unflinching wisps of reddish blues,
Nuanced haze in wafting threads,
Supplanting twilight’s blushing gray.
Eventually dusk’s blanket spreads;
The trance is broke – I look away.
-28 Jun 2014-
(Rhyme aabcbc)
Give me an idea that I can use
and built on for the future.
Run through my mind and find something kind
overlooked to help me to endure.
Give me fables and legends of old;
all the enchanted stories.
Find something kind and run through my mind
supplanting negative memories.
Give me not only wisdom to see,
also the courage to lead.
Run through my mind and find something kind
to say to my fellow man in need.
Give me all your sorrows and the pain
that you’ve saved from your brothers.
Find something kind and run through my mind
with the hope that I can bring others.
POETIC FORM: ZaniLa Rhyme
__________________________________________________________
ZaniLa Rhyme
The following is an invented poetic form for which I have written several examples over the years. The ZaniLa Rhyme is a repeating form with an inverted refrain. It is, in essence, a syllabic form created by poet, Jan Turner. It consists of at least three 4-line stanzas; or six per the original design. It has 9 syllables per line in lines 1, 3 & 4, with the 2nd line having 7 syllables. The rhyme scheme: ab (c¹.c² –Internal Rhyme) b. The metre for L3 is: /**/ … /**/
Line three is a repeating line throughout. It contains leonine verse, divided into equal portions (syllable count), separated by a conjunction (which might remain static), resulting in the nine-syllable count. The title is derived from the first half of this line. The same line is repeated as the third line in each stanza, but the two sections of the internal rhyme are switched around in each following stanza. Thus, the line is repeated identically in each uneven numbered stanza, and the turned line, in each even number stanza. In the example, I have written it in italics and boldface for ease of reference.
Each stanza starts with the same opening words (underlined for ease of reference) but continues with a different ending which is unrhymed with any part of the stanzas—it is progressive in its statement and carries the momentum of the poem forward.
When you love someone.
When you love someone, they possess your whole mind
they're in control of your entire body, soul and time.
When you love someone, their absence is cruel torture
dark shadows of solitude follow their brisk departure.
When you love someone, your darkness turns to light
their moonlight brightens even your blackest night.
When you love someone, you love their imperfections
idiosyncrasies, irritations melt under love's reflection.
When you love someone, it's complete and forever
time seems to stand still, whenever you're together.
When you love someone, you always put them first
living altruistically, allowing love's illusion to burst.
When you love someone, their smile mesmerizes
supplanting desperation with hopeful surprises.
When you love someone, your whole life changes
disillusion cedes to hope, your mind, it rearranges.
When you love someone, you feel totally complete
desires satiated with pleasurable emotions replete.
John Derek Hamilton
December 15, 2015
Darkness abides save flickering candle light
Illuminating his silhouette of masculinity
exhaustion renders an end tonight
Supplanting all previous antiquity
In the quiet he sleeps
Leaning close to steal his breath
As the wanting piques
With the rise and fall of his chest
My lips fall slightly upon his own
Sleepily he begins to stir
For his pause my darling he soon atones
As his hands they caress my curves
You set my passion ablaze again
Our appetite whet for more
Soon transported to a lovers realm
The key which unlocks my door
Though intimacy sweet
It's ecstasy adored
Permanency is what I seek
Our days and nights in one accord
In times passage you'll leave and then
My eyes will covet your face
Abandoned and lonely I'll pick up my pen
Repeatedly this scenario retraced
How I long for the time
Your wife I'll be named
Together our lives redesigned
A longing no more to be feigned
When all our tomorrow's
The missing knows no place
In your arms I know no sorrow
My home in your soul interlaced
The fear hiding in the shadows
Terror and fear inhabit the mind of the unbelieving soul
Gloom and doom unite together hiding in the shadows
Chaos and anarchy combine filling humans with panic and fright
War machine starts it's engines again, preparing for the fight
Malevolent rapaciousness is an obvious sign of the times
Evil last days are marked by vitriolic hatred and violent crime
As a novel's suspense is shattered, when first, is read the last chapter
So this evil world's end is just the prelude to our "happily ever after".
If you only knew what God knows, you would, know how the story goes
Then your inner peace could grow, supplanting the fear hiding in the shadows.
John Derek Hamilton
March 26,2016
Listen my children
and you shall hear
of the midnight ride
speeding greed will steer.
Just as our cooperative economy
is fueled by gratitude,
our competitive WinLose economy
is fueled by greed.
Other parallel points of contrast
ecologically and logically follow
in their own sweet and sour time.
Cooperative industry,
business
tribes
governments
systems and networks
enjoy organically limited slow-growth
in comparison
to capitalism and elitism and egotism
fast-growth
toward insufficiency of Earth's carrying capacity,
and Yang-dominant WinLose evolutionary enculturation
of Yang-Yin divisive survival stories--
Mom and Dad never could get along--
secularly supplanting sacred
Yin/Yang health/wealth thrival stories
of slow Paradise
revolving seasonally appropriate deep-ecological development,
listening to both redevelopment Left
and reverting-reverse-time decompositional analysis Right
of restoring nutritional-slow
and toxic-fast
health trends.
Further,
and don't fall asleep yet,
we're just getting to the best part,
slow grown cooperatives toward abundance
are dominated by matriarchal/patriarchal integrity stories
more than fast-paced
overshooting patriarchal Westerns with shot gun dissonance,
the chaos of believing and teaching
that justice is what comes out of the end of a rifle association,
incommensurability of values
across economically healthy corporations
as also ecologically wealthy organic-flowing incorporations,
both born of FatherSun
deductive LeftBrain enlightenment
and MotherEarth
inductive RightBrain polyphonic feelings
of color and sound
music and dance
in octave-fractal
slow-growth marches
toward salt marshes
predicting oceans
of YangLight
slow-breeding Yin-tides of revolution.
Matriarchy,
where what is embedded deepest
is also ethically and aesthetically highest
richest
healthiest.
Listen my children
and you shall hear
of the midnight ride
speeding greed will *****.
And everyone died alone unhappily ever after
as before.
Fragile flakes weave a soft duvet of snow
supplanting Fall colors with Winter white.
And blustery breezes begin to blow:
as a sullied sun slowly slips from sight
to the honks of migrating geese in flight.
Winter wails, amidst a flurry of flakes;
Her crystalline aura, composed of ice.
And She starts to freeze the rivers and lakes;
holding life ransom, in cold's crushing vise:
while awaiting Spring's warmth to meet her price.
Fall colors get whitewashed across the land,
Autumn lies buried beneath drifts of snow.
And the naked trees, stripped of their leaves, stand
barren, rooted to where nothing can grow:
even though it used to, not long ago.
A cold chill rides atop a frigid breeze:
all the songbirds have long since flown away.
And the temperature drops by degrees,
till it is too cold to go out to play:
and children are stranded indoors all day.
It's six days since
the Hole was dug...
First frost clings now
to newly turned earth,
to shunted sod,
to stones, to pebbles.
A grave grows colder
today than yet it's been...
Hearts grow busy, too.
Supplanting last images
with happier ones.
The heart and mind curate
a story to tell and re-tell;
to tell ourselves. To hold back
the ghosts.
~~~
It’s a year and some four months
since its been six days,
today.
The field, once buttercupped,
had been for Iris to wander.
His field, unbuttered.
She ignored what he’d eat.
A square of yellow beside a square of green.
(If only you’d seen!)
Her white, stark, above the fresh-cut ginger yellow
field.
Then, in a month of summer, her field...
greened.
She a cloud above a lawn.
He a sienna burning in the
Summer sun.
His field daisied and hers green.
The yellow square now green.
The green square now white.
She in her place.
He in his.
Trading primaries.
Today, the buttercups began to return to his green-then-white
field.
The place where his grave is.
I notice,
through tears,
that none have grown over his grave.
Ghosts, perhaps,
are flowers.
The beauty returning,
from seeds buried.
If cleanliness
thrives next to godliness,
could wealthy White Houses,
slick and in their capital-sucking groove,
survive when paired with homelessness?
This question presupposes
perhaps a radical view
that divine powers are more homeless
than secured behind military-industrialized,
greed capitalized,
plutocratic White Houses.
Is your god's aspirations
toward Earth's homeless sustainable revolution,
where outside is benign inside
and inside out vice-versa?
Or leaning more toward supplanting human nature's industrial needs
with politically self-empowering greeds--
gates closed against the rabble?
I suppose your god
could remain both egocentric
and become more ecocentric,
just as the White House
could remain a temporary shelter
for those empowered by co-empathic wisdom
of our humane species' ultimate homelessness
without a healthy Earth.
But, in White Houses of this sort,
the gates, if needed,
open from both sides.
The perimeter fence grows lower slower
which is not higher faster self-absorption.
The lawns North and South and East and West
extend toward all our homeless cousins,
Elders not yet burned and buried from healthy memory,
and those yet to become born from matriarchal wombs
into a more sustainable revolution
of shared homelessness.
Where Earth is home
sufficient for all,
or we all continue toward climates of homelessness
in gated Only White Houses Matter
of nationalistic greed
far surpassing Earth's need
for vulnerability and integrity
of a multiculturally homeless
co-messianic
co-redemptive
recreative bodhisattva warrior;
a reweaving god
of and for omnipotently co-operative love.