Best Tuning Poems
"TUNING MY THOUGHTS"
Oh my Almighty!
Days passed so hasty,
Life is now withered & wild,
Please turn me back into a child.
If I really get such chance,
I would roll on,jump & dance.
Receiving this boon as a gain,
I wish to pamper my childhood again.
On the large crystalling heap of sand,
I build a castle with my little hand.
With the multi-colored china clay,
I make the toys & love to play.
On a pleasant,chill & breezy evening,
When the clouds burst out & start showering,
Enfolding the paper into a l'le boat,
I rush into the rain & let it float.
I enjoy the flavour of lollipop,
By smacking it from bottom to top.
I wish to fill all my pockets,
With large varieties of yummy chocolates.
My thumbs dance on the buttons of joystick,
To play the games merely fantastic.
Passing the minutes with frolic & fun,
Leaving my homeworks absolutely undone.
Iam now no more a kid,
To act & play as they did.
If I wish to be childish & noisy,
People yell that Iam gone crazy.
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
Every kid is a "sizzling star".
Iam left out with no more phrase,
To garnish the beauty of childhood days.
'The sounds of Earth is the music of my soul.’
I'm scrambling up the crumbling cliffs
the Pacific ocean is raging below
it's heaving about roaring and thumping
then sucking back with strong undertow
It crashes and spits onto the shore
bubbling the sand as the sea sweeps by
high above me the gulls skirl and whirl
in scattered squall of high-pitched cry
close by I hear the white noise wind
whistle past me on route from the sea
blasting through the wild dune grasses
slapping my ears and buffeting me
my ears fully open and body vibrating
I am one with Earth, she thrills my soul
her music sings through me, and I remember -
I am Earth's tuning fork, and I am whole
11 August 2022
Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form poetry contest
Sponsor. Constance La France
I had a cousin who played the dozens then wondering why the fly is buzzen You can get hundred from the rhyming zone The jest is he has always been a bit deaf tone
I
Why does the universe look the same no matter where we ( humans and telescopes) look?
II
The question is complex for this reason: an expanding universe from the Big Bang, has voids, columnar structure, and may be akin to the biggest sponge, between galaxies.
III
A possible answer is the theory of Inflation, and the role of theoretical.particles called inflatons. In the milliseconds after the big bang, inflation is said to have occurred. Quantum mechanics, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, speed of light ... explain if a small start to the universe is true, "homogeneity" in the universe depends on particles behaving in unpredictable ways.
NOTES:
1. A finetuned universe from Genesis / START makes the most sense. The theory of Inflation replaces the Creator with Inflation.
2. This theory has failed to produce the required FLAT SPACE TIME (a la Einstein) in experiments. Spacetime is a coin with heads and tails likely; our universe landed in the edge! ( Fine tuned?)
Who needs will?
Endorphine blitzers
Overdose blues and alcohol spritzers
Chemically engineered to enslave
Like the things we see
and who were taught to be
since birth weve been told to behave
Anarchy!Rebellion!Ego!Zeitgeist!
what mean it to say
(you me or she he speaking)
luck a life was saved
that's all well and fine
but what of tomorrows fates
if the heart doesn't stop
there are worse endings
on this roller coaster life
luck implies grace
the living are blind
grace and bad luck are made up
it's all a logic
makes the world go round
reality mechanics
keep yer engine tuned
stan sand
Tuning William Blake's Whistle
by Michael R. Burch
a musical prophecy, after William Blake
I.
Many a sun
and many a moon
I walked the earth
and whistled a tune.
I did not whistle
as I worked:
the whistle was my work.
I shirked
nothing I saw
and made a rhyme
to children at play
and hard time.
II.
Among the prisoners
I saw
the leaden manacles
of Law,
the heavy ball and chain,
the quirt.
And yet I whistled
at my work.
III.
Among the children's
daisy faces
and in the women's
frowsy laces,
I saw redemption,
and I smiled.
Satanic millers,
unbeguiled,
were swayed by neither girl,
nor child,
nor any God of Love.
Yet mild
I whistled at my work,
and Song
broke out,
ere long.
Keywords/Tags: William Blake, prophecy, Orpheus, singer, singing, minstrel, ministry, hymn, troubadour, whistle, Satanic, mills, manacles, law, leaden, ball, chain, prison, labor, slavery, freedom, music, muse, song, poets, miracle
Moon Tuning…
Peeping down through
the closed blind,
reflecting moon spy-tease
the created mind;
manipulating the running
of ebony-hued time,
trying to canvas a poem
with lines that rhyme.
Now if you knew how to rap,
this would be a snap
but it’s not so easy
in the wee hours, without a nap.
Yet, when you’ve survived
the trials of another day,
It’s not really that hard to scribe
what you need to say.
Here in the home of the brave
and the land of the free,
we have yet to cave
racism and abject bigotry.
While cold war debates
continue their drum major runs,
sacred lives remain, victims of hate,
and free-firing lawless guns.
No longer can we let the fearful minority
keep us in such dire calamity.
Like the ancestors dead and gone,
we too must fight against evil and wrong;
rising up and claiming our prized liberty.
Let us not leave coming generations
without worthiness and high hope.
Let us not insult our ancestral patrons
who fought and won the right to vote.
Peeping down through
the closed blind,
reflecting moon spy-tease
the created mind;
manipulating the running
of ebony-hued time,
trying to canvas a poem
with lines that rhyme.
Now if you knew how to rap,
this would be a snap
but it’s not so easy
in the wee hours, without a nap.
Yet, when you’ve survived
the trials of another day,
It’s not really that hard to scribe
what you need to say.
Here in the home of the brave
and the land of the free,
we have yet to cave
racism and abject bigotry.
While cold war debates
continue their drum major runs,
sacred lives remain victims of hate
and free-firing lawless guns.
No longer can we let the fearful minority
keep us in such dire calamity.
Like the ancestors dead and gone,
we too must fight against evil and wrong;
rising up and claiming our prized liberty.
Let us not leave coming generations
without worthiness and high hope.
Let us not insult our ancestral patrons
who fought and won the right to vote.
How blessing
Moms?
Her son a song to be
Music to form his children
All at homes to sit
Together to sing
The stubborn frog was holding tight to the yellow zinnia
She had abnormally long petals, so she kept him dry in spurts.
However, her stalk was slippery. He kept sliding into the wet grass
Let go! His wife said. “It is dry down here, under the mushroom.”
But he had tuned her out for so many years, he could not hear her.
For I've not
a jealous
chord
in my
~~body,
even though
it plays
~~out-of-tune.
you study the silences
I survey all THE words
each with their craft...
Someone tuning the rainfall
Dancing shower make a call
Something touch the soul of heart
Love is peace , love is war
I am watching inside the heart
Feel of emotion make me sharp
My heart waiting for right call
Far ahead someone ready for war
My lonely heart never sleep in night
How can I view dream of love rise
Everywhere I found deepness so dark
Blind faith still wait for her beauty
Who will bring light to the soul
But my journey feel me so long
Long journey passing with time
Fine tuning there is
When everyone is on the same page
There is wisdom and understanding
A time to be sage
Just open those books
Continue to feed your mind
Forge ahead and do great things
Keep everything in line