Best Urgent Need Poems
Very strong message taking form,
Coming like a violent storm,
Warning of nation’s moral low,
Unaware of approaching foe.
Ignorant! How this world beguiles!
Blind to the culture’s subtle changes,
Dull to enemy’s evil wiles,
Naïve on immoral binges.
Stressed out by malignant ills.
Misguided by bureaucrat vow.
Duped by sharp marketing skills.
Depending on NASDAQ or the Dow.
Wake up, see the coming dark storm,
In midst of silver lining.
Judgment framed by hope’s reform.
Urgent need for land’s refining.
Looking through the window of a shop,
I see you with a woman.
She lifts long auburn hair
while you, who stand behind her,
are fastening a strand of pearls
around her slender neck.
I close my eyes envisioning. . .
I've opened them to you
facing me,
and I'm the woman
with the red-brown locks!
You touch my cheek, and in your eyes
I read an urgent need.
You lead me to the door,
around the corner to an empty alley.
Our bodies press together.
In the chill of night,
I taste warm, wild kisses on my mouth.
"Darling, my darling," escapes my lips,
then suddenly my reverie is broken. . . .
A passerby has stopped
to place a dollar in my cup.
Murmuring my thanks,
I gaze once more into the store
where diamond rings and necklaces glitter
like new snow beneath a winter moon.
The man whom I could know
only in a different life,
who stands inside the store
where I could never go,
takes his sweetheart's hand
and leads her past me
pretending not to see
a common homeless woman
who yearns for so much more
than mere necessities.
For the Seeker's Being Homeless Poetry Contest
The storm has blown itself away; there is a lighting of the sky.
The monstrous waves start to recede, and the ripples just pass on by.
The rocks find a new home from the pounding they have been given.
They come to rest haphazardly, as though so hard they have been driven.
The fence looks old, all gnarled and bent, a pathway almost hidden.
The footsteps - where have they come from - and to where are they now bidden?
An eerie cry - a sobbing sound - mixes harmoniously.
With the sound of seagulls squawking, now setting off back to sea.
The lights are lighting, one at a time, pinpricks of ghostly yellow.
The sobbing increases just slightly; a voice so soft and mellow.
‘Come follow me, a prize awaits,' it sings out on the breeze.
I find myself following it, my heart it seems to please.
I have never felt so fresh, my heart it seems to float.
I follow the pathway in the near dark; my being fills with hope.
What is it, that is calling me? Is sounds so sweet and near.
I stumble and realise I am soaked, but I am without any fear.
‘You are mine,’ says the voice so gentle and caressing.
The light seems to grow brighter, I feel an urgent need pressing.
I must find the source of this golden voice; its song fills my head.
I must press on the winding path before me, I feel I am being lead.
A shape that glows and points at me and opens its glowing arms wide.
I stop as fear overtakes me; I want to turn back, like the tide.
And then the shape embraces me, calms me and points behind.
There I am lying on the beach; am I now losing my mind?
‘Your journey is just starting,’ the voice tells me. ‘Come, we can not be late.’
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
Realisation comes to me as the shape pushes me onwards up the winding hill.
My earthly body I have left behind, but my adventure is in front of me still.
Today is the day we honor,
the noble and the brave,
the men and woman who dedicated their lives,
and the sacrifices that they have made.
When America had an urgent need,
they were the first to raise their hand,
without thinking twice about it,
they were proud to take a stand.
Some came back from war with battle scars,
others in flagged draped coffins,
even though their flesh may have left,
their spirits will never be forgotten.
They unselfishly and knowingly,
put their lives on the line,
so when you see a veteran, thank them,
cause without them, freedom would have died.
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
Love is blind
To all the perils
That lie dormant in the mind
Beyond the limits of transgression.
A mortal maiden golden-haired
Priestess of Athena, daughter of the gods
By Poseidon with persuasive honeyed words was wooed
She melted in their alluring warmth and charm.
With guile concealed and flattery he urged her on
Her defences crumbled; the drawbridge lowered
To reveal the gateway to her heart
Forgotten were the vows of celibacy.
Beneath his touch her senses reeled
Her eyelids closed in expectation
He took his chance with urgent need and greed
Her virgin spoils were taken.
As trembling bodies rode the waves of love and lust
Tremors shook the earth, the ocean heaved; the wind enraged
Swept o’er the land and lightning flashed across the sky.
Such was the wrath of gods defied and disobeyed
Terrible and eternal punishment they bestowed.
The mortal maiden golden-haired
A repulsive hideous monster she became
Her fair unblemished skin gave way to loathsome green
Her bloodshot eyes in terror gazed, their previous lustre gone
Each lock of hair a writhing snake that hissed and spouted venom.
Condemned beyond mercy she fled to distant land
Where cursed and shunned she lived in great despair
Turning into stone whosoever fell beneath her vengeful gaze.
At last Perseus took her life. Aided by Athena’s mirrored shield
His scythe tore into flesh and bone; her severed head was lifted high.
Medusa’s misery and shame came to an end
Death – the final liberating act.
Through The Eyes of A Twin
(Faux Limerick)
Sometimes I wonder is it just me
Visions in my head that I can see
Fear grips at me so strong
I thought boy this is wrong
Rebuking Satan told him to flee
I went to the windows looked outside
Then moved from room to room with great stride
Oh girl you need to quit
Was I having a fit
I began to pray fear didn’t subside
In my mind I was seeing this attack
Just stood still didn’t know how to react
Lord where did that come from
Why did I see this harm
Was I having an awful flashback
Continued to pray and shook my head
May be it was something I had read
These thoughts I did not need
They just could not proceed
An attack I would certainly dread
A week later on I got this call
My twin began to explain it all
The vision did occur
What I saw was a blur
As she spoke all I could do was ball
Over the miles I had heard her scream
The attack was broken in midstream
Through my eyes I could see
The Lord had heard my plea
Now I see it was not a daydream
When Spirit lead we must intercede
For there just may be an urgent need
We must stand in the gap
Stop Satan in his trap
The Lord will answer our prayer indeed
Lord, help me to understand you more and more.
Help me to appreciate the gifts of life as I explore.
So many times I've put doing my will about yours.
Please turn my heart towards your forever love.
Lord, help me to live the way you ask me to love.
And to love the way you ask me to live.
Dear God, I pray to you on my bended knees.
Hear my cry.
My urgent need for you.
Let me see you in all things.
Give me life anew.
Teach me to listen.
Teach me to be kind.
Lord, strengthen me that I might find.
The road that leads me closer to you everyday.
Please Lord,
I beg you
Show me the way!
----By Janille James----
Where is this soul in solitude?
Alone but rarely lonely
Never closed it is wide open
Soaring, waiting for a time to be
Upon the winds. On land and sea
And with the tides’ ebb and flow
Telling tales of him and her
Us, you and me as we go.
His fingers wrapped 'round a ready pen
His mind does often ponder
Then he begins to tell his story
And the fantasies drift and wander
The words come to him from all around
Lilting, lulling sounds
They bounce in his head down to his hands
As once more his muse is found
The ink flows fast on paper
As his narrative builds up speed
Climbing up to a crescendo
Grasping with urgent need.
Clutching at sensations
Like a torrent in full flow
He writes with fervent passion
As the words dash to and fro
Then slows again to a dreamy pace
As the reader's senses need to feed
Intense then light then dark again
The words flow to feed their need
Never lost in the written word
Never lost for things to say
His eyes and ears and senses
Are his tools, are his display
When feeding all the masses
With his literary food
He hopes they enjoy the repast
And end up feeling good.
Devour the feast, imbibe the words
Sate your body, soul and mind
Enjoy the written dinner
And let your spirit there unwind
Let it abound like his solitary soul
Then let it come to rest
Let it be thoroughly satisfied
Leave it feel, at last, the best
Chinese whispers and the rumours,
do some brains have blisters and tumours,
spreading gossip forever continues,
slaying all logic to rest in tombs.
These lips leak lies like lethal fumes,
wear thick lipstick and bad perfumes,
they want a war of words I presume,
but wars with me will ensure their doom.
Be certain, that's a certainty,
for now you're no concern to me,
no urgent need for surgency,
your simple minds aren't hurting me.
I could strike or just leave you be,
as you create your own reality,
but I don't care 'cus in time they'll see
your bonkers mental insanity.
Cloaking misty hills and many a deep valley floor:
The empty Moor presents an outlook, stoical and dour.
Seemingly barren, this mute guardian of history,
Emits an air of arcane intrigue and darkest mystery.
Stunted Jack Pines, seen clustered on a distant knoll,
Stolidly defy Nature, though she exacts her toll.
They, as living record of ravages exacted by time,
Struggle to survive the harassment of its harsh clime.
Of other trees that one seeks, there are but few to see;
Except for a solitary Oak, a rugged, ponderous tree,
With deeply gnarled bark and stout branches entwined,
That survives, whilst all others, the Moor has declined!
When storm clouds threaten, and the midday dims,
This land, subject to Nature’s unpredictable whims,
Sends all Moor denizens scurrying, helter skelter
To seek the comfort and safety of familiar shelter.
When evening winds, croon their eerie symphony,
And babbling rills join in, to send haunting melody
Echoing across the ling, it provokes fresh fears,
That warn the Moor is no place to be, when night nears.
When the Moor is lit by a full moon, still there’s deceit,
For deep hazardous shadows, often trick unwary feet,
As bog and tussock, seemingly reach out to ensnare,
The ill fated interloper who chances to stumble there!
For Nature strives to erase all signs of human hand,
Would return the Moor to what befits this native land.
Her awesome control, allows for no compromise,
As those who would challenge her ways, soon realise!
But I enjoy the freedom such visits offer me;
For tis therein, I find peace and serenity.
So when solitude is an urgent need, and my goal,
The Moor brings composure to my tormented Soul.
Rhymer August 20th, 2016
It sit's there in the corner on a sunny day,
wondering why you don't take it on a good day.
It waits patiently for the day when rain falls,
knowing that's the day when you will call.
It gives you protection, from all life's extremes,
the deluge of water, and when the hot sun beams.
When life is easy, and breezy, or just mundane,
Do you think of the umbrella, or only when it rains?
God is not an umbrella, used only in an emergency,
cast aside, forgotten, unless there's an urgent need.
Remember him always in the good times and the bad,
leaving him on good days, makes him kind of sad.
John Derek Hamilton November 09,2015
CM For A Leader
There lies in him lots of practical wisdom in the thoughts of the Sarawak CM.....
He knows his mind and doing his best is far reaching as he administers...
The Chief Minister admits, in his own words, Sarawak has lots of catching up to do..
In the 2 years he has been in office, there has been 50 resolutions or so..
He highlighted his hard hitting labeling of some federal policies as stupid...
And elaborated his state's latest earthshaking recognition of using English..
To him, English is a universal language of knowledge, technology and more...
He stressed the urgent need for one to look and see, to listen and hear more...
To him there lies a great difference if one were to be indifferent there...
He made his stand very clear, when extolling Sarawak for Sarawakians...
In his own words, cessation from federal is a no but autonomy is more than ok...
To appreciate the some startling changes he has initiated and implemented..
It would be an education if one were to look up on his many innovative moves..
Friends, take time to view and listen to this short video of the man behind these moves....
So as to appreciate the many startling changes he has implemented. ..
Surprisingly he omitted to mention his efforts of giving recognition...
To the Dayaks, a majority race in Sarawak, as a valid race in documentations...
A giant leap of official identity for this officially overlooked indigenous race ...
That wallowed in the danger of being lesser known than the mascot of the state..
That proud and colourful bird that lends its name to the Sarawak state...
For all Malaysians, Sarawak is the famous Land Of the Hornbill...
With CM Adenam Satem, therein lies the hope his state will be a king of the hill...
http://www.thestar.com.my/videos/2015/12/20/adenan-satem-on-the-english-language-illegal-logging-political-style-and-autonomy/
I was stuck in traffic
Just the other day
When a certain feeling hit me
In a most horrific way
I felt a pressure building
It's happened more than once
But the fact I didn't learn
Made me feel just like a dunce
Sweat was on my forehead
My foot was on the brake
"LET'S GET THIS TRAFFIC MOVING!!"
I said for goodness sake
I've got to reach an exit
To answer natures call
I'd settle for a tree or shrub
But I prefer a stall
The cars then started moving
I thought, "I'll make it through"
But ten feet brought another halt
Now here comes number two
My forehead sweat is beading
As internal pressure builds
I dread to think what happens
If my need is not fulfilled
The guy beside me's drinking
From a Big Gulp soda cup
Unconcerned of progress
As I watch him turn it up
Again we start to moving
I can see the end in sight
A blue sign shows the promise
Of a restaraunts delight
It's not their food I'm seeking
But their plumbing there within
I'll be glad to order something
If that's what it takes to win
I've got one lane to change
So I put my blinker on
I hope the guy back to my right
Can see what's going on
Here we go. We start to roll
The guy gives me a space
It's just another fifty feet
To help me end my race
I grit my teeth and grip the wheel
With bowels and bladder full
I make it to the exit
And I pray to save my soul
I finally reach the turning point
But then the light turns red
I wonder if there's someone
Out there messing with my head
With muscles growing weaker
I hope that I don't seep
The pain that I'm enduring
Is enough to make me weep
But then the light turns green
And we're free to move along
"Lord just let me make it
Before anything goes wrong"
I turn into a parking lot
And find the nearest space
I park my car and jump out
Then I'm off to run the race
I find the restroom there inside
The one that's marked for men
I turn the knob and find it locked
DAMN!! Where does it end?
I dance around and grab myself
And then I hear a flush
My eyes roll back into my head
I feel a certain rush
I know the moment's near at hand
When I can have some peace
Just get that bastard outta there
So I can feel release
Rockman :-)
Christ’s new ministry was so interrupted
By Satan the Prince of the World
The fallen anointed demon in jewels
Trying to take charge in a whirl
“What is this teaching?” The amazed crowd asked,
“Isn’t this one the carpenter’s son?”
Unsettling as it was, he went on his way
Departing on foot for Capernaum;
Jesus made house calls in homes of the ill
While engaging Himself in their lives;
He rebuked the fever not the person
Determined with compassion he strived
Take the boat farther from land, Jesus called,
Throw your net into the deep water;
His call to Peter is His call to us—
Now you will catch men, do not fear;
You can make me clean, the leper believed.
Friend your sins are forgiven was echoed
As Jesus saw faith coming through the roof
To the paralytic, Take up … go…
Earthly bodies are mortal – life’s handbreadths—
Our lifetime is nothing in His sight;
Christ ignored neither the urgent need nor
The ultimate goal; the latter being right;
Satan is everywhere, e’en the wheat fields
On the Sabbath day of lawful rest—
The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath,
Withered hand restored and stretched out – Blessed!
Jesus is the authority and the LORD!
We are His tools to use in world’s strife,
Not needing praise and free from prideful hurt
We find rest in Him, the Way and Life
Luke 5:4, 10;
Luke 5:20, 24--