Best Worthier Poems
The consumer products are trilling
But not like this sacred Green lantern
A glamorizing image to behold
On its arrival to the world.
Perhaps there is one secret about it
It keeps on being amazing as it gaze
A little witty whimper
But worthier than gold.
Though it's sighted in my vision
But I swear by the day,
night, thought, and memory
This lantern is real.
Green lantern
A natural kind light for the faithful
humble and kind-
hearted souls.
So colorful as chameleon
So giant as elephant...
So dominating like the earth.
Green lantern-
A symbolism of descendants
from a rear world.
IF I COULD SPEND A DAY WITH YOU...
If I could spend a day with you, I'd be happy,
we'd never get enough of each other's company.
Our poems and write-ups will embrace unity.
Our inks will make love in the nights enmity
as we stain the sheet with creativity.
We'd hold hands strolling with a coffee,
grip each other in timeless euphoria like a trophy;
But you're worthier than all the biggest trophies.
Kissing is your art, I'd paint you with kisses,
And bask in the glory of heavenly drizzles,
Write you a poem that'll rain beautiful tears
Off your hazy eyes that'll wash off your fears.
I'd wipe away your tears when you feel blue,
every day, I'd tell how much I cherish you
I'd stare into your eyes, & without a single word,
We'd flipped feelings over the board.
If I could spend a day with you,
there is no height we wouldn't scale through,
I'll be your chandelier & make your night colorful,
leave an impression, I'd make you gleeful,
the holy grail is to make you esctatically happy.
I'd cuddle your brain & crack you up in a jiffy,
telling riddles & tales about motherland, Africa.
And when my day is spent & our bond bigger,
I'd made you more happier and freakier,
a memento of our memories rises at every flicker.
Reminisce our memiors now and forever.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? March 2023.
Rewrote our History books for the world to see
A worthier Icon there could never be,
Born and died over the span short of a century,
Baba Madiba became South Africa’s first Black
President in April 1994, finally, eventually!
Nelson Mandela was destined for this role,
As the masses empowered, flocked to the pole
A lawyer, an activist, a prisoner, a free soul,
His peaceful anti apartheid activism, a thorn
In the Government's side, but after Sharpeville,
His sabotaging tactics against those opposing
The ANC, brought about his arrest, his only desire
The African National Congress to be recognized
Was his goal.
He was incarcerated, but at his trial, he defended
His people with heartfelt passion
He would one day he promised
Become their liberator and stop inhumane
Tyranny – for this end he was prepared to die,
Outside the court among the masses, there
Wasn’t a dry eye.
And no bloodshed did South Africa see,
As was anticipated, rumours abounded, but
A kind, intelligent and brave leader, imprisoned for
Twenty seven years,
Changed an era with peace and raised no fears.
He was a much loved President by black and white,
He was elected for two terms, after which until he
Died, became a worldwide renown humanitarian
Across the globe international leaders
Praised and revered this humorous, intellectual
Man who chose to be honest, just and right.
He passed on December 5th at the age of 95 in
2013, indeed a sad event.
Which not even the Almighty could prevent.
Known lovingly as, Baba Madiba, Father Madiba
In Africa, our vast Continent, a multiracial face
Began to appear, no matter the race.
When he died,
By his side,
Were his loving children
And grandchildren and Graca Machel, his wife,
Who with Baba Madiba,
Shared a happy marriage and life.
A hero who cemented together a democratic state,
When the entire world thought, it was already too late.
* SHARPEVILLE A MASSACRE OF UNARMED BLACK SOUTH AFRICANS BY POLICE FORCES
* BOTH PRESIDENT MANDELA AND EX PRESIDENT DE KLERK JOINTLY RECEIVED THE NOBEL
PRIZE FOR REALIZING THE TIME HAD COME FOR PEACE, AND THEREFORE BRINGING
APARTHEID TO AN END.
Movement Was A Birther
Movement had become a birther
President no one else was worthier
Then our Hillary happened to be
And also between you and me
Into detail cannot go further.
Sounds like a Trump idiom.
Jim Horn
Mom was a person of indisputable integrity...
teaching siblings the strict rules of equality.
A voice of tender words to remember her by...
a dazzling light invading my tenebrous sky.
Mother was more glittering and worthier than any gold...
with the purest faith and the wisdom of growing old.
I was very blessed to have had such a loving, nurturing mother...
her purity vanquished my vicissitude, and kept me from error.
She adored jewels, but she loved me more than them...
and she wore a long necklace of opulent elegance.
I am very proud and glad to have inherited that spirit from the South...
and reflecting on her virtuous life, it has given me strength and worth.
I took a wrong turn as I memorized a sonnet and uncovered a limerick.
I uncovered a subject matter that I would never treasure.
Red open garments clouded my consciousness.
I regret that I didn't
discard the newspaper that featured fireside poems and wished that I could relieve the moment.
I sought confession, fourteen-hour workdays…anything that would relieve
me of the sight and memory of the indecent limerick.
However, I didn't
recall treasures
that obscured further poetic consciousness.
As soon as I removed the newspaper my consciousness
forced me to relieve
the poetic experience through the rhythm, rhyme and subject matter of fireside treasures.
I grew indignant of the methods newspaper employed to promote the limerick.
I wished that the newspaper didn't have funds for color printing.
Somehow I didn't
consider that the consciousness
which envisioned the foreshadow of the limerick
would relieve
my clouded mind and enrich it with worthier treasure.
Possibly, I subconsciously treasure
the obscene because I didn't
forget the minute details of the piece, thought I hope that I relieve
myself of such memories through amnesia and renewed conciousness.
I hope that leisure permits to me to acquaint myself with poems that cause dissociate from the limerick.
Five words:limerick,treasure,consciousness,didn't,relieve
What say you when a pig bathe in a muddy muck?
When he rolls merrily like 'tis panacea to his strain?
Don't you gawk at the amazing shuck
Could be to you 'tis a flaunt to his inert brain.
But how honey he embraces the muck-
When the sizzling lust for food slaps!
'Tis where he tanks up the lack
'Tis a divan for his daily naps
He rolls in it with sheer fun and joy,
Swaps spit with inner pathogens
To him's as sweet as the delicacy of soy
And dirt seems excite no antigens
But fools we the lookers
Who hate the act but love the actor
We're the daytime chaplains an' night's hookers
Musing the worthier and fudging the obvious factor
Don't we rear 'em and keep them?
And butcher 'em for pork?
And for sale don't we adulate 'em like gem?
Then why dub 'em berk?
With us is the knowledge and power-
To keep and care for these pigs
We can give 'em genial scour
And see 'em as moral prigs
NB: Exclusively for pig lovers.
Try to understand the natural meaning of this poem
If I ruled the world
Living would have been sweet
As sweet as the tunes of a melodious flute
As sweet as the taste of melting chocolate
Pray, to be a ruler is not a matter of becoming
For, to rule is not a choice
Ruling is not performed so as to be socially aesthetic
Nor is it socially imposed
Ruling is fate given
Rulers are born as such
Rulers can help it not
They have to guide
Rulers have to show the way
Rulers have to build bridges
Rulers have to make their voices heard
Rulers are, simply!
Pray, I claim not to be one
To be able to rule
I would need magic at the tips of my fingers
Or even a book of spells!
But, if I ruled the world
Living would not have been as it is now
If I ruled the world
Living would have been like the tranquil flow of a river
And the world would have been a boat
Which would flow on the river of life
Carrying humans, beings fully aware
That they are mere travelers
And thence, they would simply take the time
To enjoy their trip
Before embarking on the next one
Yes, for it shall have to end, like all good things!
Why, if I ruled the world
I would have made of existence
A place worthier than Heaven
Indeed, a place none would ever want to leave!
Papa said my beauty would make life better
For marry I must this summer
Or we shall continue to suffer.
Bride Price shall make my family richer.
But I am in a dilemma.
Sam is sweet but Jude is Richer
Papa would welcome either,
For Marry I must this summer
Faithful Jude adores me better.
Sam’s ego burns like fire
And this makes me bitter.
Sweet Jude stalks me like a beggar,
Wicked Sam is not much of a love giver,
And Marry I must this summer.
Alas! I know not why I love Sam better.
Maybe Sweet Jude is too much of a Lover,
Maybe Sam appears to be the worthier,
For he frets not about my beautiful aura
And is sanctified with the Ego of a deserving lover,
Sam I must marry this summer.
QUOTATION
When love is in excess it brings a man no honor nor worthiness.
Euripides, Medea, 431 B.C.
Greek tragic dramatist (484 BC - 406 BC)
Slithering in the depthless waters
We find the eel—never blinking
Rarely has he seen the sun
Encompassed with mistrust
He’s a soloist of the deep
Calm burning in his soul,
We find his home
Serenely built on the quietude of his spirit
He melts into his cold tunnels
He’s the keeper of the ocean’s secrets
Frowning and gaping
He lifts his slimy head
Watching the strangers swimming along
Catching interest in one or two
Only to assist them in knowing—he’s the devourer of whomever he pleases to
overthrow
He’s so unobtrusive, this little creature
Yet fire seems to burn from within
As if by coming a little closer…
He’d reveal his secrets from beneath the fin
In awe the eel will slither back in his throne of emptiness
Silent desperation was never described so discreetly
Yet he conquers all completely
And survives longer than his kind could ever appreciate
Soloist of the sea
I doubt you desire me to observe
Your slimy, despicable existence
But you are worthy of acknowledgement—
Much worthier than I myself
For truly, my eely presence in these lines
Is diminutive against your profound, human-like indifference
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, please let down your hair
you're way up here and I'm way down there
If only the miles could be spanned like a tower
I'd start climbing at once and be there in an hour
I'm not much of a painter, or swimmer or plumber
so maybe it's best if I wait until summer
In truth, I'm not sure that I'd be up to your measure,
your standards are high and you're deserving of treasure
So, I hope that you'll find a much worthier match
than this humble poet; as I'm not much of a catch
Has he who enthrones no power to dethrone?
Earthly glory never lasts. Its state
Is inconsistent like seeds down
And be the watchman: be wise! No power perpetuate
Lest, when the Master returns, he will demand
Full account of your stewardship
If wanting be: he chides you. He may demand
A worthier servant over your place, his vine and sheep.
But who am I to resist His call if such He tells:
'Come, follow me and henceforth, my services crave
I should worship Him whose sovereignty rules
Even Him alone should I serve
'Tis true, He will ignite my zest
He'll grant my feeble heart rest.
Has not your heart burned within you at evening’s
Holy hour and calm as if it is in most depths discerned
the presence of a loftier power?
It was God’s voice which spoke in silence to your silent
heart and bade each worthier thought awake, and every
dream of earth depart
Oh voice of God, forever close, in low sweet accents
whispering peace, make us your harmonies to hear the
heavenly echoes which never stop
Many intimates might collapse, we realize,
And direct us to strive solely in this place,
There's nearly a ray of hope in the eagle's eyes,
To shed the ode's tear without further grace.
We say he imparted when we survey his space,
Some are eager, friends return as we eulogize,
Angels beset him and herald his embrace,
Many intimates might collapse, we realize.
Adversity is forlorn, no matter how time flies,
A gone friend feels like a limb misplace,
Assigning a friend's loss bond ethical mates,
And direct us to strive solely in this place.
Our chums are silent, yet they've left men race,
They went one step down a path we will equalize,
Enjoying a friend may no more provide solace,
There's nearly a ray of hope in the eagle's eyes.
Sadness confines us with infinity-long ties,
Some folk enters our life forbear a long trace,
Of our feelings, causing irreversibly applies,
To shed the ode's tear without further grace.
We can't stop preferring a friend since he dies,
Notably, if he's worthier than anyone, you notice,
Splitting from living pals, anguish amplifies,
When relished life fully and truly, fate may glance.
Written: June 7, 2022
The young must know that they are loved
For there is goodness in every young person
Give me souls--the souls of young people
These boys are not bad, these boys, they need me
In their midst I feel completely at home
I learned the hardships of an orphans life
In this new town where I had to support myself
Laboring in everything from being a blacksmith
And as a tailor, waiting as a waiter and shoemaker
All that to ease my mother's burden
Every Sunday I'd meet the boys in a different place
It didn't matter that it was a city church,
a cemetery chapel, or an empty lot
And during the week i'd tour the city shops,
Making sure my boys hadn't forgotten my instructions
I bought an empty lot and a dilapidated shed
Next door was a saloon, across ,a hotel of shady reputation
but what did it matter to me the oratory ground was sacred,
for it later came to me in a dream
That it was the burial ground of the Martyrs of Turin.
It is enough that you are young
And for you I give my life
bound by one rule, dedicated
to the double task of self-sanctification & care of youth
But first tell the devil to rest, and then I'll rest too
Do all the good you can
Thats why while I have time, I must work
My dear sir I tell you you are a good friend of mine,
but God comes first, first of all Don Bosco is a priest
So give me the souls, take away the rest
My mother would say when I become a priest
If ever became rich, she shall never enter my house!"
Thats why I am poor, penniless Don Bosco, a shepherd boy of the hills.
I have lived poor and shall die poor
I have only one wish, to see you happy and in the next
"I have been an instrument in the hands of Mary. She has done everything. Had I been a worthier instrument, I would have accomplished a great deal more."
The PO£T