Best Waring Poems
Twin brothers born of humanity
Raised in the heart land
Fed by circumstances
Shaped by choice
Same freedom
Different destinies
I saw Love grow with limbs
Stretching wide to pull everything
To himself even hatred
And i saw hatred grow with craws
Hiding them in his bosom
Till they grow longer and stronger
I thought this Love kid was too touchy
And i treasured Hatred he was for special occasions
Defending my weaknesses and flaws
Love was ridiculing my my all efforts
He was becoming extravagant, giving this giving that
Not like Hatred a sweet heart who measured
According to what he treasured
Years have gone by and
Love has prospered with many friends
Many people giving back to him
Yet hatred brought out his claws,
His fangs came out
And he grew three horns
One of rejection
another for despair
And bigger one with this word engraved 'loser'
I watched these twins
Walk different directions like light and darkness
Their waring grand fathers
I walked two their birthday parties
Few turned up, gave him crowns and called him Dad
For hatred the party was noisy
Many gathered worshiped him
In fear of the horns
Love commanded his servants to dress all that came
with compassion, faithfulness, and honor
Hatred commanded his subjects
To kill every one that came for the party
Many died few survived
I am a ghetto boy with no ware to go, so I talk to the lord to keep my flow.
The answer came that would make me a man.
He said the graveyard would be calling my name, but you want fame;
so here i go. Make the wrong move and the door will close.
I said lord I can't help myself, unemployment on the rise and i don't have many
friends; cause i begin to wonder is there spies with in.
All i want to do is to get out of this rut, without hanging with the fellas
selling dope at the cut.
I don't want no mess so i carry a peice in case some fool want some of me.
Hitting the switch in the car so my girl can get in, I keep her with me
to keep me from committing a sin. I am a ghetto boy, but i'm out to win.
All these things mean something to me.
It is not what you would see in a hustlers magazine.
A stash of dope in the trunk and thee dogs at the cut,
dressing in hood gear and waring bullets proof vests.
Is death the promise for doing my best.
I am a ghetto boy with no ware to go, so i talk to the lord to keep my flow.
THE END
Nang sa mundo ako ay nagkamulat
Sa isipan ko’y hindi ikaw ang hinangad,
Pangarap na maging ano o sino
Ang siyang sa puso ko’y namumuno.
Nang lisanin ko na ang sekundarya
Napatigil ako sa isang banda,
Bakit kaya noon kaydali mangarap?
Bakit kaya ngayon sobrang kayhirap?
Parang tinik sa lalamunan ang pagpili
Nang kursong magbibigay sayo ng galak at ngiti;
Halo-halong emosyon ang uusbong
Kahit sino-sino na lang ang tinalunton.
Mahabang panahon na ang aking ginugol
Sa pagpli ng pangarap na hindi mapupurol,
Iba’t ibang suhestiyon galing sa iba
Ngunit sa huli, ako pa rin ang magpapasya.
At nang araw ay dumating
Sa pagpasok sa paaralang Unibersidad
Tuliro ang isipan, pati ang damdamin
Ano bang kurso sa akin may kalidad?
Dumatal na ang dapithapon
Ngunit pasya ay di pa nabubuo
Litung-lito kung ano ang susundin
Si ama’t ina o aking isipan at damdamin?
Waring sana’y taimtim talagang pag-isipan
At tanawin ang mangyayari sa hinaharap
Lalong-lalo na ang gabay ni Amang Lumikha
Na siyang nagpukol sa atin ng buhay na dakila.
Norman Rockwell
Rockwellesque
brilliant man with nostalgia values
with dreams viewed of a perfect life
depicting amusing scenes
with sense of humor, shown
with heartwarming bonds
memories fade
canvas art
captures
life
12/2/2015
Poetry Contest: Favorite Painter
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
www.howmanysyllables.com
Norman Rockwell
Norman Percevel Rockwell was a 20th-century American painter and illustrator. His works enjoy a broad popular appeal in the United States for their reflection of American culture
Born: February 3, 1894, New York City, NY
Died: November 8, 1978, Stockbridge, MA
Children: Thomas Rockwell, Jarvis Waring, Peter Barstow
Organizations founded: Famous Artists School
Notable works: Willie Gillis, Rosie the Riveter, Four Freedoms, The Problem We All Live With
A well endowed young lady from Waring
At her assets men were always staring
What a magnificent rack
Like two bald heads in a sack
Wearing low tops really was daring
Jan Allison
13th November 2014
Sadly NOT for contest!
I Rise
I open the windows of my humble adobe
I breathe in the mountain air
I make a pot of coffee
Then read the News...
Recession, inflation
Homeless, addiction
Waste on our streets
Men and women on the mall
Lead in the air
Another one falls
Rifles galore
Rockets hit Kyiv
Russia waring
Men take aim, insanely proud
Little ones dying
Africa starving
Immigrants waiting
Refugees seeking
It makes me ill
I open the windows more
I breathe in the mountain air
I see deer in the meadow below
Murder on the street
Blood spilt everywhere
Every corner, every turning
Horror, stinch, cries, stains
Father can you hear them
Souls wondering the young
The old, the rich, the poor
Father their are falling
Murder on the streets bodies everywhere
No ones talking
No ones caring
Coffins filling,grave yards overflowing
Family in mourning
Hearts are broken
Gangs are waring
Mamma its everywhere.
Can you see them
Father I can't stop writing
These souls keep on chanting
Horror,stinch,fear,blood its everywhere.
Murder on the streets
Can't you hear them
Father these souls are desperately chanting
Fear,tears ,shivers and nightmares.
Murder on the street can you smell them
Wounded, dying, suffering, pain it's everywhere.
Listen to my tale of two lovers that ventured forth,_From two waring peoples for up in the north.__O now Littlefire was the daughter of the chief,_And she knew to tell her father of her love would just bring him grief.__Now Icefox was a noted warrior with stealth knowing and pride,_But his love for Littlefire he knew he just couldn't hide.__Now on a cold clear night they ventured forth to a place they were to meet,_A little house of ice their own small retreat.__But a vindictive soul fallowed and hurried back to the people to tell,_Oh and for the lovers this didn't bode well.__Oh untill it was to late they never heard a sound,_And there in each others arms the two lovers were found.__Now the chief's met to give punishment for what the two lovers did,_Oh the shame to their families was something that could not be easily hid.__So sentanced by the chief's death would be the price,_Their living hearts cut from there chests and togather barried deep with in the ice.__O but you can't kill passions flame or put out the fire of love,_Now the beauty of their hearts still burns in the night time skies above.Now if you don't belive my tale then you should venture forth,_Look into the skies up in the north,_And when there love is shining bright on cold clear nights._You will see what we call the great Northern Lights.__Oh Native people call it Icefire in the north But for their people that watched them die,_It will ever be known of as Littlefire loving Icefox in the sky.__So ends my tale of two lovers that paid the ultamit prece,_But the fire of their love will alway reflect in the night time sky from deep with in the ice.
Hay now, now sing this corrosion
Of winter wastes and Red stars white nights
And waring tribes a bully on the block
To kick you when your down
The ones meek and mild
But can stand tall n defend their ground.
So hay now, now, sing to me a man of fragility
Of many means and wants all and nothing more
But to have dominion over the land, you wanted a war
now you can't win, you have not a war but a massacre
A genocide, you are your only suicide
If you want a war WE can bring you your war a jihad
If the cultural empire strikes
You will know war, but why fight return
To your frozen land of winter waste before its to, to late
Leave this sovereign nation
Let your people rise up
Throw off the yoke of opposition
Put down your guns
and turn and run no one will get hurt
So sing, now, hay now, now to me of this dominion
Sing of a white house in a red square of mother Russia, your dispair
Of white wastes, throw down your oppressor
As we bring the Rain to wash away his stain
You are better than one
A little pale pathetic man
A man-made of a killer in a high place
OH! Mother Russia!
Sing down, down, down this oblivion...
You have nothing to lose
We said it once will say it before
Cast down the crown of a ruined nation
Time to cast off the chains of subservience
Rise up and be free
END THIS WAR!
Before it's too, too late...
for the Ukraine
Trying to keep up the vitage l find
Is now waring considbaly thin
Thoughts feelings entwined
Often makes my head spin
What's become a daily grind
A battle with myself l can't win
Thinking that is clearly outlined
Eaither that or a more thicker skin
Just for once feeling more refinded
A case of knowing where to begin
If l could change my state of mind
And how l feel deep within
this was again reworked I've TYPED UP ON SOUP INSTEAD OF TRANSFER FROM USB ANOTHER INTERPRETASION
It was quite a surprise to us
when monsters came out of the night,
the beasts and bad guys of legends
who for so long gave us a fright.
We thought they lived on movie screens,
pulpy books, and local folklore,
until they came to prey on us,
and we all learned that they were much more.
The panic, at first, was intense,
folks were dying, it seemed surreal,
vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts,
and other such beasties were real.
They were as bad as legend said,
but we soon figured out one truth,
the ways to kill them in legend
really worked—we knew what to do.
The werewolves were the easiest,
you just bought some silver-tip rounds,
given all this country’s hunters
it took two years to gun them down.
As for ghosts, if you do not know,
ectoplasm is diffuse matter,
floating in air, it is easy prey
for the common vacuum cleaner.
Then dump it into a furnace,
and watch the ghostie burn away,
old houses everywhere were safe,
no more hauntings came into play.
Vampires could blend in the best,
of the monsters they killed the most,
UV flashlights or smeared garlic
was all it took to make them toast.
The zombies, good lord, they were slow,
and not all that hard to destroy,
army snipers would take head shots,
and attack choppers were deployed.
They’d shoot down with their miniguns,
guaranteed they’d catch zombie head,
since the undead liked to cluster,
an easy target for sprayed lead.
We even had a kaiju-type
dragged its lumbering form onshore,
just as big as a skyscraper,
a three-hundred foot carnivore.
We fired antiship missiles,
half-dozen of them did the trick,
set up some coastal air patrols
to take care of the beasts right quick.
In retrospect, it all makes sense,
after all, we are humankind,
we’ve been waring since we could walk,
countless weapons came from our mind.
We’ve killed sabertooths and smallpox,
run down real threats without pity,
killed tens of thousands in battle,
even nuked two of our cities.
What’s a werewolf compared to that?
What threat’s a vampire these days?
Those beasts should be afraid of us,
since we always find ways to slay.
Maybe we need better monsters,
a challenge for our evolved state,
something that can inspire fear,
the kind we can appreciate—
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Smoking crack in a house in an unfamiliar neighborhood with unfamiliar faces. The fear pouring out of my pours like the piss on the couch I'm sitting in coming from the numerous dogs and cats in this abandon house. Trapped like a mouse in a cage I'm stuck in this house for fear of leaving and missing the next hit. Why cant i leave this house...the doors are missing and all the windows are open.Is it because of my hopes and dreams I'm blowing out towards heaven in clouds of white smoke? Or the smell of human waste in the toilet that cant be flushed. Why am i trapped in this house? The rice crispy sound on the end of this glass tube and the alluring aroma that i never knew i needed. Angry words coming from out of mouths that thunder off the walls of the empty rooms that hold nothing but me. Veins bulging from his head and neck like the roots of a cypress tree. Dogs barking in the background sending waring signals to all my numb senses. Why am i trapped in this house? The taste of char boy and ashes is the only thing i taste and feel. Trying to chase this elusive dragon that has led me to this strange house in another dimension. The dripping from the kitchen sink into the pile of dirty dishes is driving me insane. I'm not supposed to be here. I need to leave this place. Clicking my ruby red slippers isn't working. What rabbit hole have i gone down. Where was the wrong turn made. How do i get out of here? Please someone help me and show me the way to get out of this hell hole where in my bed i now lay.
"My tumb finger waiting to put a
sindoor in ur forehead, index finger
is waiting to put a dot in ur swt
dimple chick, middle finger is
waiting to help u to hold the nouse
ring while u r waring it, ring finger is
waiting to get a ring frm u and little
finger is waiting to hold ur little
finger forever....."
Looking into her eyes i saw labour,
In the sacredness of her bowel, i bowed
Her innocent hands cuddled my waring spirit
When my soul is vexed and versed with fear,
She pull me close to her heart
Her heart beats lured me into unknown dreams
I saw her
In the thick forest,
She trod, defying scorching sun and rumbling thunder
Full of grits and guts
Harvesting her tears and pains
With hoes, her mind is made up
Her son must live
At dusk, she choke the woods
As the aroma of her labour entice the gods
Does the gods eat?
Why not ask my mother?
awoh awoh
Band of the courageous crew,
taming the raging beast within.
Firie gladiators, bestow,
Volunteering battalions,
to the frontlines of waring monsters.
The fire tamer’s rides,
upon their white chariots.
Dressed in golden amour,
to ward off dangerous claws.
Crowned with helmets of valour,
upon their heads.
Selfless acts of bravery,
putting their own lives,
on the line, for others.
Protecting what is not theirs,
before thinking of themselves.
Wielding their liquid swords,
the monster's forced to yield.
Strong brigades take a stand,
holding the monster at bay.
Their worth is more,
than they are paid!