Best Trustee Poems
This world, never ours alone, but shared with other creatures great and small.
The Earth turns and new dawn comes, and will long after we're gone.
A Sandpiper flitted along the shore and told me so.
We must face a truth that we borrowed these days, you and I,
from benefactors and trustees, unborn and untested, yet will be.
I finally understand now, watching the selfless Caracal's practiced smile..
the tawny red bearded lion basks in the same sunshine.
Touch a heart, lift a soul will you? It's not too late.
For I have faith we are mostly good.
Now listen to the song of nature, be kind..
and don't worry about what never would.
Lord, I come, I confess, blessed by my sisters and brothers
A candle was extinguished to light another
Lord, you are the key that I may see
you are the trustee of me
You claim my life with your dying breath
As you lie on the cross at the hour of your death
Given the truth of your presence
You came down from heaven
To lead us with your blessings
Our sins forgiven from our transgressions
I am so glad that you are in my life
You ease my life of suffering and strife
Lord, I come, I confess, blessed by my sisters and brothers
A candle was extinguished to light another
4/10/2017
Inspired by; "Lord I'm So Glad You're in My Life"
The words strut & rust can be derived from the mechanism of Trust,
Trust could not exist without doubt,suspicion and the possibility of failure,
would I desire Trust if I never had it,or couldn't have it,
many things to Trust such as creatures,currencies & concepts,
we can sustain faith in ideologies,instincts,and inspirations,
my first Trust must have been Mother,
second being invulnerability to death,
trusting the search and trusting the treasure of experience,
believing that if a man is a king for a moment then he is a king for a lifetime,
if courageous once,then gallantry can carry me again,
Trust is everything I have,it is everything that I've done
and everything that I will produce,
Trust is the morning rhythem telling me I can survive the dare of Day,
I can feel suffering yet surge,
the trustee of my Soul's account,
Trust delivers the itinerary of my intentions to the Eye of God's equity,
a warm water soothing the sting of society's satire,
bringing me to the tabernacle of plumb testimony,
trusting Life to give opportunity
and Death a passport beyond the portcullis of charity's charm,
finding gold in broken stones,
giving grief to the wicked & comfort to the confused & conquered,
to Trust that living a good Life is about developing strengths,
preventing stress from tresspassing upon your soul,
geological gusto on the rim of my religion,
I look at graveyards and say okay -
J.A.B.
As I rush past the dastardly faces of those in pain,
I begin to ponder if it were possible to die here,
Surrounded by disease and loneliness the decrepit weep under those in control,
There daily dose of detrimental disruption,
The toxins streaming through their inadequate veins,
I slowly emerge from the empty corridor,
Hearing the woeful cries of those who are whining,
I have reached his bedside,
He looks up at me in such a way that cannot be compared,
I place my frigid hand upon his,
And I feel no warmth just the mulled sense of death in the air,
I glace at the tubes running from his weakened limbs,
His ever-growing fear racing through his diminished heart,
“Look after your mother, Noah”
A frail voice is heard,
I seek remorse from the dying man’s eyes,
How could I possible fill the leeway this man has kept between himself and my mother,
He is a constant trustee to my mother,
And a shoulder to bawl upon,
He himself knows he is approaching the inevitable,
His eyes wonder around one last time seeking a sense of fulfilment,
They soon lock on to my youthful eyes,
The diminishing hazel stained irises are slowly weltering away,
Along with my Gramps silver lined soul,
“Can you still have last words even though you are someone that isn’t well known?”
I chuckle with a teardrop flowing down my caressed cheek bone,
His hand lifts to my cherub like cheeks,
A final stroke of my now blessed face,
Only now do I notice the continuous beeps of machines is no more,
Just a flat line of sorrow.
In the night within the silent darkness
Cried a fallen angel,
From the waves of the wind soaring from afar
There he rose from the ground below; hopelessly.
Known to him was only pain,
As he came from beyond the borders of sadness
Still dared fear, thence uttering of patience,
He became the sole beneficiary of his faith,
Carrying his dreams on his dropped shoulders
Evidently, his were the tears of a forsaken orphan.
He derived from a land of broken dreams
Riding on the horns of hopes all demised
Hoping to be a trustee of your ears
As he fears your heart already despises him
Unknown to thee, has he a strength greater for his frame
Thus he refused to carry himself pitifully
Through the strife he dragged his feet
And lonely cold nights hardened his skin
So you listen to these eastern winds blow, and hear the echo,
Of those distant cries as he sheds tears of a forsaken orphan.
Deprived as he is; the protector of his dreams
He who isn't here to live for centuries
Just a mark of his own is all he needs
A stain of good fortune that he seek to leave
In the memories of those who follow him
Spoken in tones. notes on a board
Nay! not his name in shining lights
He beseeches you for a silent place to weep
Those sentiments in his head, in tones that might not soothe
For they will be the last tears of a forsaken orphan.
entrapped by the agonies of the life
astraying in the bewilderment of world
hunting for trustee for my heart
the broken heart voiced from inside
in the mundane existence, no one is worthy of trust
I love to be outdoors,
but hiking, I don't commit.
I'll pick the cushy swing,
for my lazy butt to sit.
Umbrella drink in hand,
but lacking the umbrella.
When my life reminds me,
I'm fine without a fella.
Under the old maple,
where my cushy swing does fit.
I really take a chance,
with the bug bites and bird...poop.
With my trustee Schnoodle,
that will never leave my side.
I love to be outdoors,
It's where I feel alive.
In all schools, there is assembly conn
Which directs the class or school yon
Expectations of all – trustee – the swan:
Choosing topics and teachers from Taiwan.
Keeping updates is teacher’s duty since eon
So is the assembly to represent omicron.
Different themes or topics about nylon
All are dealt in assembly now and forlorn.
Hence is the theme of Creativity chosen
By Divine Child School in Mehsana anon.
This will go on till students change begone
Illiteracy, agedness, negative mindset, wan.
Stained with little fingerprints,
echoed laughter of children's past.
Toys that were once longed for...
outgrown, forgotten, outcast.
Swing that once swayed piggy tails,
untamed leafage it only sways.
A trustee superhero...
the day, no longer, he saves.
In children that once loved you,
a more creative mind you bloomed.
Imagination needed...
these children, so well, you groomed.
Precious toys of yesterday,
by little hands no longer touched.
Precious toys of yesterday,
through you, they learned, so much.
KLW
8/23/15
Looking for whom I used to be
Finding a place that is me
Crawling again on my knee
wiping the fog off Reality
It seems no one is able to see
and hear my screams and my plea
"Pull off that knife but don't flee -
Sit down please, listen, agree..."
I'm dying, I know, I foresee
Life had been nothing but potpourri
You're born and I lost that dear, golden key
that unlocks the secret of Eternity
My continents hurt and my Sea
As if I am stung by a huge Killer bee
MAN was supposed to be my Trustee
I am dying, I know, I foresee...
I remember the day—historic NEWS FLASH,
America said YES, to that famed man of brash.
Too good to be true—for conservative folk,
Donald Trump now our Prez—was surely a hoax.
But indeed it was true, and no sooner had he
recited the oath—as executive Trustee, and moved to the swamp to set records straight, to drain the bog—and launch a clean slate.
But taking the reins, what Trump didn’t know,
a Deep State had formed—a coup to VETO the Will of the peeps, who’d legally won—a web of deception now handily spun by treasonous men and women of Hatred for all things American, legal, and sacred.
COLLUSION they lied from Capitol Hill. COLLUSION by media in a fake caring shrill. Across every city, County, and state, COLLUSION—he’s guilty, let’s make no mistake!
Talking heads named Pelosi, Schumer, and Lemon,
Declaring Due Process, was NOT meant for Vermin like President Trump, his family and friends—people of MAGA, no justice shall cleanse.
In the end all were wrong—there had been no such thing, our president—the victim of a terrible sting. A hoax of proportions never before seen since 1776 in the Land of the Free.
Double standards now stand as America’s way.
Lies, deceit, and reputations all flayed.
Savvy Americans saw through the lame scheme, loyally standing by their President and Team.
Despite main stream media, & stirred up confusion,
Hillary lost, MOVE ON—your COLLUSION'S an ILLUSION!
Hidden Agenda
Fighting hard to maintain
Instigating while, hesitating on that last breath, on that last breeze.
Taking all things with ease
Thought of as a dream lost in a tease
Staring in to the depth of the night skies
Where there is no time for disguise or sleep
Man eyes creep, others crawl.
How steep is the climb.
Sublime is how it felt when moving in stealth, chasing the dream of wealth
Flying high above the clouds, like a trustee of adjudication.
Encompassed by that fascination of procrastination when falling to the ground in defeat. Please, place a blockade on this terror. Lost souls, but still so much to gain.
Slain in its rapture of pain. Wondering was it all left to chance or lost in vain.
Hidden in plain visual sense. Now lets commence and forget about the suspense.
It's here!
Darius Howard
I spend two hours of most every day,
With the tending and feeding of cats.
I never imagined my end of life this way,
It causes most of our marital spats.
It's not a Kitten's fault for being born,
Nor their choice to be jettisoned on me.
It's taxing doing what's right each morn,
To a dozen cats we've became a trustee.
The cost of feeding is now out of hand,
And Vet bills are becoming all to frequent.
Then another little Kitty arrives unplanned,
Seeming to always come in sequent.
Adoptive homes we've found for a few,
Still others have tried stopping a car.
But doing our duty we'll not eschew,
On my marker just write "The Cat Czar"
But "my woe is me" changes nary a thing,
And I've too much invested to run away.
So I'll continue praying for life's upswing,
And tending unwanted cats another day.
Born an American
But i was raised multicultural
Ive ventured to many places
But this was the most historical.
An island all by itself by the name of Japan
With a make-up similar to an architectural plan
Where from a birds-eye resembled no ones land
Afraid of whether or not I'd land.
Once on my feet I begin to reminisce
On a life that I'd truly miss
In desperate search of a trustee
That whom was the same as me.
Mesmerized by the paintings that lay upon the walls
Aligned sightings of dragons holding crystal balls
Lady's dressed in golden Kimono robes
Tables set up with many different origami shows.
As I watched them eat it seemed like fancy tricks
For some odd reason they ate with sticks
With music that seemed like the Japanese Blues
It was then I noticed the mats that stated: "Please remove your shoes"
To me this seemed as something new
Something in North America I would not do
From that moment on I knew--
This was going to take some getting used to.
I see your site say -
Error: call 1-800 to pay.
There goes my day.
Why do you ask me
To give endless ID
To part with my money?
Profit is your mantra;
So what if Santa
Wants to pay for my Fanta?
Forget Patriot Act bullarama
My $10 drama
Is beneath Osama.
The “main menu” loop
Dishes “valued customer” poop
Till my brain flies the coop.
It will be worth the court fee
To have the bankruptcy trustee
Take over from me.
And that’s when you
Will put a live person through
My ass to chew.