Best Vita Poems
Everyone is an island everynow and then
and everynow and then I am an island too
till... I see the first flower of Spring blooming in my garden
I hear the little bluebird singing on my porch
I feel the warmth of the sun melting on my skin
till...I watch the floating clouds pass by almost like candyfloss
I hear my neighbour saying hello as she walks her dog
I smell the fresh air,and hear my own breath mingle inside me
I look around and feel serenity just being in the moment
Cos for just a moment I can think,for just a moment I gaze in the celestiene sky
to find the most colourful rainbow arching my own soul
And peace surrounds my heart,knowing how lucky I am to be here
how precious i must be through the eyes of my Creator
to bless me in such ways,to give me all these treasures
So happy I am today ,so happy for each dawn and every sunset
for each breeze ,every star and rising moon ,for each child yet to be born,
for every dream and wish which falls and carve the multi hued soft silken sand
So happy I am for all that was is and ever will be
So joyful this silence within me as I walk by the shore
so close to the sea which wafts and splash gently on my toes
so happy to feel like the first leaf at fall,alone but never alone
So joyful in knowing ....Life is beautiful.
Charma
Poesy requires skill and meter,
and a bard of golden heart;
or he will tire and teeter.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
A bard must seek inspiration,
and write with love and art
to create grace with elevation.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
A divine gift from the Nine Muses
and Apollo, poesy never departs
from the bard destiny chooses.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
When the bard's dormant afflatus
wakes, the world will witness the start
of his Muse's creative genius.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
Poesy's not for the dilettante,
nor the weak and faint of heart,
the cavalier or nonchalant!
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
More austere than science or math,
poesy demands the mind of Descartes,
and the will for the Pierian path.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
Poesy acts like gravity for rhyme:
it keeps it from flying apart
in this universe of Parnassian time.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
Poesy is sometimes speechless beauty
that's difficult to express or impart,
like Creation's vast infinity.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
Poesy can soothe the soul
at the deepest, innermost part,
where body and spirit are whole.
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
Poesy sometimes makes no sense;
but—as in love—be true to your heart:
for it makes all the difference!
“Ars longa, vita brevis.”
(from The John Poems)
Transplant my heart;
I need it no more,
And remove my libido too.
Neither’s required
For this life I live,
Useless as love for you.
Lobotomize
The caring part
Of my overheated brain.
Then proceed to excise
The urge to dream.
I’ll never love again.
Resounding heartbeat of the winds,
Resounding sounds of screams,
I hear their need for peace,
But I guess that's only me,
The trees topple like nothing holds them in their place,
And I just cry,
Tears stream down my face.
Life is hard,
But life is good,
La Bella Vita,
I love you.
On the grounds of Kongo dya Ntotila
Monte Kibango saw you born
O fearless daughter that quiet talks
Nganga Marinda of Mwana Kongo´s clan
In “Antonianism“ your belief was let known
To the dogmas of the Catholic faith, you were contrary
“Heretic!” - To death the clergy condemned thee
On life, at the fire that burned much
Still, your goodbye was sincere
Now, in deep sleep
Crowned laurels, in eternal glory
Rest forgotten of the filthy settler
Roses are red violets are blue
Love is so special, But be cautioned
its reserved for only the few.
For once in my life I was so sure of something that was real,but i must
have been trapped in her congenial veil.
so riddled with self doubt, insecure with what i was trying to figure out.
but love isn’t easy
love is patent,love is kind.
love is everything you make of it.
love is like a puppy dog frolicking in the sand, love is like a helping hand.
love can be friendships we share, love can be our biggest despair.
I thank god for blessing me every day, for i am no modern day Ernest Hemingway.
In steed of dwelling on something I wish that would be, I should thank you for letting me be
your noble steed.
I write about how I feel, sometimes I just have to deal with the cards of my worlds surreal.
I wish love is something I felt,
because love is proud
it does not boast, it does not write hurtful posts.
Love is not arrogant.
Love is patient, love is kind.
love can be found in the smallest places,
love is the reason for my creation.”
-Addison Lanpher
11/29/10
In the deepest hole;
My hand raises the soul;
In the darkest night;
My torch bears the light.
In the midst of despair;
My kindness upholds the fair;
In the cruelest sorrow;
My salvation is a better tomorrow.
My name, your refuge;
My love, flowing deluge;
My home, your sanctuary;
My river, single estuary.
I am the way;
The itinerary of everyday;
I am the life;
The passion ending strife;
I am the truth;
The wisdom set forth.
La Dolce Vita Part One
How sweet life is, indeed!
The air we breathe, our nightly rest.
Think back about your very first
steps.
You played games outdoors with
your nose not stuck to a screen.
You romped in the woods ever so
merrily.
Days of conviviality with no fear.
Just endless days and nights
with parents and friends, we held
so very dear.
Life was just beginning for us.
Most of us went to Church and
learned who created the Universe.
We learned the Ten Commandments
that applied to men and women...
one and all.
Our countries stood tall and
proud. We loved our countries
proud of its flag and song.
Leaders were respected not
humiliated or the butt of jokes.
Times horribly transformed..
When God was shown the door
and our country and leaders
we abhor.
The New Bible is the deceitful and
devilish fourth estate,
That has made us hate each other
without reason or debate.
The time has come my friends
To get a grip, return to reality.
Love all and create a new world,
That is ours and for those yet to be.
June 10, 2019
4:30pm PST
They nagged him till he'd had enough.
His one remaining joy was snuff.
Beyond the post that ends his race
he has found a better place.
This is no time to joke or laugh
but to write his epitaph.
Art is long but life is short.
I lack the time to more report.
Short and snappy were his days,
short therefore to him my praise.
Ars est longa,
vita brevis.
Art is immortal.
Art is infinite.
Pictograms tell a story,
of Man that have past.
Terra cotta pots and cuneiforms,
Depicts their details of Lives.
Paintbrushes and canvases,
bring history alive.
Statues of stone or metal,
Remind us of the legacies,
That people left behind.
Art is history,
And forever it will be,
The story of Life
as we see it.
Life of the holy man, sequestered, unnatural
A fancy hat atop his red gown for his alleluia…
Down on the lowly branches lands a red bird
On natural wild wings he sings a mating woo
Loved for his striking feathers, he’ll fare well
Colors of precious blood, make him a mystic
Earning him spiritual powers so pagan-native…
Vying hardest is that cultivated flower of luv
In petal form perfected long before the magi
The original scented pinks lost to red pursuit
A root’s kumbaya unheard as her thorny plea…
(12/30/22 For ‘the cardinal and the rose’ contest)
You are the morning star to my setting sun
With a brightness and beauty no other could own.
Toward you are drawn fully wondrous eyes
Whilst my glory fades,bereft e'en of sighs.
Fate has been in part somewhat unkind
Throwing us together ,though years apart.
You live so strongly in my mind
But age dictates I can never win your heart.
Had Kismet our lives but better aligned
And granted we be at an equal phase,
What happiness Destiny might have designed
For us to be conjoined in purest love and grace
Yet how could sadness me so sorely dight
When I revel in your love of life so bright?
No,'tis with ecstasy I raise my voice
As Providence has in you let me rejoice.
Our friendship is for me the true reward
Filling my heart with ever sweeter concord.
How melancholy and empty would my life have been,
Were your rare beauty and vitality left unseen!
You know wine, comes from the vine.
No, Gosh! What a travesty, are you quite sure? What's she like?
Good question, can be very young, often complicated, dominating, best when mature,
Doesn't ring any bells you say, what a pity, a real shame,
Me? No, always, I have her round twice a day, whether we're eating cheese or game,
What does she do? Golly where do I start?
She accompanies, fulfils, accentuates, garnishes and decorates,
But to do her justice would be to explain her art,
Which is hard, jolly difficult, as she was there "from the start",
She was there right after Alpha, yes Beta,
And in fact that fits her real name, which is Vita.
Many winds are against you
And they do not need to make a noise;
You can readily see it through,
You may not need to make a choice.
Just pack your things and abscond
Once the winds become so cruel;
You do not need to fight the furious winds
That attack you from every direction.
For this world is so cruel,
And so people are;
They will trample on you if you let them,
And take away your soul.
Just walk on your own track
Without encroaching that of the others;
For it does not matter if you have your own world,
As long as your world does not collide with the world of others.
For what really matters in this universe
Is not how many times you scoffed on others for their imperfection,
But it is how many times you help others
To climb their own ladders.
For life is just a temporary, invisible fragment of dot in this infinite universe-
What you do with that life is what really matters;
You may either spend it under the silhouette of others till your dying breath,
Or live as you are but never hesitating to push others up if they need it.
For it is better to push others up than to pull them down
So you may have someone to pull you up when the going gets rough.
Instead of stoning others, use instead your stone for others to walk on by,
So when the right time comes, you may have someone to lift you high.
Living musicians compose
Dead musicians decompose
The title is Latin for:
'Art is long; life is short'