Best Taper Poems
The Festival of Lights, Chanukah has arrived
a hopeful time of praise each year revived.
The Menorah lit, each home becomes a church.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
Our sister Miriam lights the shamash taper first
a maiden fair and scholarly her prayers rehearsed
to bring together all that's beautiful, diverse.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
Eight nights we praise the L-rd for gifting us with Light
and pass around small things which bring delight.
We rejoice. In brotherhood we are immersed.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
May G-d in his greatness light all your days
May family, friends, and foes mend their ways
for all have needs, let kindness tame their thirsts
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
*Bo-ruch A-toh Ado-noi E-lo-hei-nu Me-lech Ho-olom A-sher Ki-de-sho-nu Be-mitz-vo-sov Ve-tzi-vo-nu Le-had-lik Ner Shel Cha-nu-kah.
* Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by His commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Chanukah.
When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.
I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.
When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.
First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.
Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.
I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.
Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.
Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.
Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.
We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?
Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.
Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.
The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.
John Weaver 2000 (Emily has cerebral palsy)
Her room is not the sort of room you’d quite expect to find
For a little girl whose love of life is clear
No toys or games or bats or balls, or fun things of that kind
No bicycle or skateboard will appear
But the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It's very cheerful and bright with pictures everywhere
A pump to feed her through the night and a big adapted chair
Though pretty dolls sit on the shelf and teddies on her bed
She cannot play with them herself so she holds them tight instead
And the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It was Christmas day some years ago with excitement in the air
When we opened her presents and then found
That she couldn’t play with them and it didn’t seem quite fair
That she would always be so cruelly bound
To a life without the toys that all children adore
And then we heard a new sound that meant so much more
A crackle from the little piece of crumpled silver paper
The expensive gifts didn’t matter to this special little girl
Her joy came from quite another caper
As the parcels and the packaging slowly started to unfurl
All she wanted was the silver wrapping paper
You see, she could grasp it tight to make a funny noise instead
And so it fast became a dear friend
And she holds it close beside her even when she goes to bed
And the lesson to be learned is, in the end…
Happiness is not always found in gifts so big and costly
And often simple things can bring the joy you need
Contentment is a state of mind and the choice is yours mostly
To be content with what you’ve got and with every little deed
Or, to always be in want and never satisfied
And so for me the real belief will never taper
That the truth of life is clear and very closely tied
To the little piece of crumpled silver paper.
A place where the subconscious freely flows,
Meanwhile a heart of innocence,Love grows.
There all escape the world and its cruelty,
It is a sanctuary of purity.
Similar places are never found,
Nor, are any souls with chains bound.
Alas,Like Life it is a vapor,
Lasting only a moment before taper.
Oh! To taste the sweet kiss of its lips,so divine.
Gladly residing at this space of time,
Extremely satisfied with peace of mind.
Never will I forget the blissful kiss,so sweet,
. Ode to a Lover's sleep
Looking with hearts eyes we'll find
It doesn't take much to be kind
You don't need powers or capes
Helping a stranger escape
The torment their life is bringing
Or the pain that might be lingering
All around their hearts each day
There is such a brilliant way
To ease the troubles that they see
Making tears of misery
Fall each time new days begin
They just want to finally win
Living free from misery
A simple request to be
Made true if we all just
Give a little friendly trust
That everything will be alright
Letting them know a light
Of kindness can lead them past
All the hurt--it will not last
You never know how one small act
Can make the biggest huge impact
On someone who's really down
Their life can be turned around
If we all take one small minute
To release love--try to spin it
Towards others who need a lift
It would be the greatest gift
No money or wrapping paper
To do something good and taper
The wrong in the world and see
The caring humanity
Flowing and seeping into
Others who are sad and blue
(SHORT) SONG OF AN OLD GROUCH
Itty bitty pretty kitty
Sing a sentimental ditty
Furry puppy woofy wuffy
Wrapped in toilet tissue fluffy
Daffodilly bright and frilly
Flutter like a girl’s Chantilly
Maids in dresses white with lace
Smiles as void as outer space
Package them in fresh brown paper
Tie with string - and light with taper
Free of all that cuteness sweet
Give me plate of raw red meat
That small corner
of the garden has been
in the shade since May -
this morning the sun
has made it back
and lit the dark
with a single taper of light
as if giving winter notice
that spring is on its way.
As breaths sink into the pool of dim nights
The wicker of angst grates more than I can bear,
More a fading hope lost in pathways, cracked
By utter alienation from riddled thorns…
Yet, an inner candle banishes doubt,
A lucent halo gleaming ever so near
Though it knows not my name, it knows who I am,
It guides a taper of faith with lit intuitions made,
Until peace glows in my soul , telling me I am home.
----------------------
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Quote Me Rumi Contest of Silent One
12/3/2015
Tonight I sleep in the jungle
Jaguar’s creep through the bush
We have dogs to hunt them, but in the end they are no match
I pull my poncho over my head to keep the rain out
We are not hunting jaguar’s but men
The men are on ambush
Put in the field to destroy
A probe if you will
The jaguar is only hunting to live
As the night grows colder and the bugs increase their intensity
The roar in my ears becomes unbearable
Did something move in the bush
Was it a taper or a spook?
My watch is almost over. Do I dare go to sleep?
There is something out there and it is evil…….
Subtle sounds are all around us
A kind of silence one can’t hear.
A child’s soap-pipe-bubbles bursting
or some lovers eyes shedding tears.
One does not hear a falling snowflake
nor nature’s music of the spheres
for so many go unnoticed
it’s as though we all lack ears.
Silence is a lone taper flame,
a dim flickering solitaire
smouldering on its waxen wick
to a slow deafened melody
extinguished before it is heard.
Life is much bigger than I imagined it could be,
There is more beyond the horizon of Hope through my Faith.
I am Uniquely made as seen by the different shades of me
With the out -bursting of colors depicting a side that some
May never know - happy and gay, rejoicing, celebrating, funny,
hilarious, witty, caring, loving, appreciative, satisfied.
Strong of character but often self-willed, and usually turn the "other
Cheek" too.
Reminiscing on good things in bygone days and share
Experiences, direct and indirect which propels the renewal of thoughts
of what could still be done,
By using learned knowledge and skills in other ways, I
Create, evolve, develop and initiate whatever God directs me to do.
I cannot imagine how vast a prospect God's Purpose is for me,
But I do remember that Life is much bigger than I imagine it could be!
So, I regurgitate past achievements to Capture the color and mix,
To be a fit in Society's go-getting World!
Emulating the Lord when He asked: "Who do men say that I am"?
I use the gift of penmanship to excavate what got hidden inside of me.
I endeavor to search deep within and skillfully share in philosophy,
Humanity, nature, emphatic for emotional and physical pain.
Look deep into my soul and glimpse what God sees
Simplicity does not mean "Walk All Over Me."
My pen gliding over the page as I write, can tell from images
"Painted" the true quality of me.
It establishes a "blueprint" like in the DNA when mRnA transforms
And transcribes " messages". So like the pens of Poets I opt to portray
The best of me, striving for that Perfect point to be
Released through the "window" of expertise that God loaned me.
God too is engaged in poetry as some Psalms of David show.
Like Reverse Mortgages He loans gifts and talents by beginning from the
first to the last. Thus, his subjects display talents with youth and taper
off with age.
Even switching from skill to skill, the "blueprint" is the same DNA.
What I develop, evolve or initiate, the background is the same!
Cassius Clay
A heavy Weight Champion
Who punched his way
Through barriers of colour
With blows of a kind Heart...
He floated like a Butterfly
Yet, stung like a Bee
A Heavy Weight Champion
With a light weight Heart!
Epitome of bonhomie
Who tamed his angry Soul
By the Light of Faith
Re-directing throe
With fury to his Foe.
Despite adversity of Birth
Trained to taper his temper
Sheathing hard-knock fist-
Boxer of amity and Love-
Inside a comfy glove!
*
Boxing is a recondite bodily Art
From the soft side of man’s Heart!
When he pours his sturdy arm
I perceive Art and not harm...
Floating quick and so ethereal
Dexterity invokes scenes surreal!
When Foe hits the canvas at last
Shall he forever be an outcast?
Victor must stand up and muse:
“For One to Win, One must lose
“Ignore then face turned blue
“For I must celebrate with you
“You fell down as my boxing Foe
“Rise up a Friend for a cup of joe!
“You’ve lost in the boxing ring
“You won being my Friend my King!”
*
Honoured be they that can compete
Our mirth they do totally replete,
A symbol of sacrifice holy and pure
As Pain and patience they do endure!
The World is now just one Village
Meant for amity and not for pillage
Sports direct how we affably relate
By accord not by how we dictate!
Fight the World, fight with the mind
Sheath your blows protect the rind
The World needs Love’s agile blows
Blows of Faith Cassius best knows!
*
Fight with facts, fight with vim
Fight the Devil with solemn hymn
Don’t fight with greed or fight with whim
But fill the Cup to the brim!
*
Endure the sting
and earn your honey
Endure the blow
to earn your money
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting!
Cassius Clay
Man O’ th’ Day!
*Dedicated to those who fight with Peace and for Peace. The World is a Village and we’re Family!
JM
17th Oct’ 2013
Realm of humankind wheedled in reset,
Homeland beray, lull to beset,
Scrawling the parchment to a keyset,
Xenophobia in callousness,
Dearth to darn the clout concord.
Orness synergy alliance the terrene.
Berth errand the rassle office,
Commissions detach the hassle orifice...
Pensile the ensile spirits,
Circumscissile recoiled resiliency,
Nuanced tensile expansionism...
Normalise a new normal,
Order the prime heart to bloom,
Taper our united dreg to blossom...
Blight in frights,
Dight the twinight against any affright,
Infinity within.
Silvery Moon drifts through open window.
Baby's bassinet is bathed in evening sky.
Across the open yards, Silvery Moon gifts,
gifts love and devotion to taper the shadows.
A shimmer to shield from darkness
dusting sleepy lids with light like baby powder.
Hold fast to fleeting innocence
and boldness of brilliant shield
as you swaddle my tender babe tonight
through open window, Silvery Moon.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, August 7, 2012
Inspired by Babyface (Carl Sandburg)
Navigating the immense void of night
The right ascension to a winter’s sky;
Coincides with the height from which I stood
Stars, interlinking crescendo’s so freely,
Imitate the centuries, as I presumed as much.
At least with one tuned in, to so many stars
The magnitude existence found, far large;
Appearing close to one another as a variable
Heralded each, a legend the Greeks had made.
(The Constellations)
Snoozing with the intention of inanimate usage
The head long bolster pillow, namely, ‘Hydra’,
Chose an encounter with Hercules as foe
Prolong impetuous, to each gradual hemisphere,
As one could sideways look, exclaim its’ breath
Pursuing each as on-lookers, chose that group!
Individually did it taper each ceaseless path.
Warily, with twisting motion, a scathing attack
Searching menageries from whence it came;
To the labyrinths where pulsars engage sense
Trails to adjoining torsos, and ten thousand heads,
Though be them stars or for the sheer hell of it
Combine as one, each with a will of its own;
As per chance, with the combined effort, sway
Euripides, a watercourse, with banks on each.
There, Centaurus takes grip of its south west tip
Uninspiring Sextans, via Alphard’s luminary
The heart to all there is, and everlasting life,
Immortality may be a reality or mere illusion.
Secondments trail to endearments out of view,
To Southern scopes from omnipotent fathers;
Godly endeavours that imaginations flame
Find these dreams for us, the Hydra dead,
To remain in searing portals to then regroup
Bestowed as thoughts to future centuries.
This modern social scene has overhung-
Encompassed by a twirl, one single snake
That twisted and turned where each was caught
By something that as groups could never see,
We as the stars ourselves imposing on each
Imposing one another, avoiding calm.
This meandering replacement deals with hope,
Extremely drawn out as the Hydra is;
To engulf every membrane of tale told so far,
Where mass of spatial existence seems blood
From which taking blame its life’s loss came,
And every impending story told so far,
Was simply a daydream to a night time sky.