Designation Poems | Examples

Discovering Light

Discovering Light 

Cry Ugly shame lost its power

Shame was regret…

Buying into malicious judgment I wasn't good enough…

He knew I was more than good enough… I gave all I was capable of… 

He loved me because I gave 100%… even when my 100% fell short 

He channeled his disappointment and hope through his poetry. 

Discovery emerged reading his heirloom book… regret quickly segued into shame.

Shame perfected as a child… stepping stones used to set my foundation 

Decades devoted to unraveling the source… reflected in the dark strands of thread woven in my tapestry 

Oblivious of the light, silver and gold spun adjacent to and translucent overlay… changing the tapestry's initial designation.


Sherry Barton 
April 13,

STEPPING BACK

Sometimes, it is necessary
When under attack.
Whether or not mandatory,
Take a break - step back.

Often, we become sucked in
Within activity.
Resting is somewhat tucked in...
Leads to calamity.

Time and effort get away...
Start taking their toll.
Take a step back - in this way,
You will regain control.

Otherwise, it will be forced
Upon you - feeling tired.
Designation of exhaust...
Refreshing is desired.

Not much of which is required
As you reassess.
Perspective can be acquired...
Some relief of stress.

When fatigue sets in and slack
Reveals other intrusions,
Make the choice of stepping back
To reach your best conclusions.

Satisfaction

You’ve come out this evening 
For a wee, delicious bite
Drink fine wine, meet new friends
Your expectation? A fabulous night

Our farm is Vergenoegd Löw 
It’s an interesting, unusual designation
Give me a minute to clear the mystery 
By treating you to this narration 

I searched all of the interwebs
To see,
who definitely knew?
I found an interesting list of people
Who’ve experienced it through and through

Seems that Debbie. From Dallas.
She knew it all
Mick and the Stones, when they got it
They had a ball

Bob Marley and UB40
At the end of a gig
They defs experienced it
When they lit up a spliff

Ghandi and Roy Orbison wrote about it, 
As did Anne Frank and Kahlil Gibran, 
Michael Jordan, Freud, Bill Gates,
The Pope, Margaret Thatcher. Even Superman.

It’s time to translate it
I’ll end my protraction
When you drink the wine tonight
You will experience - Satisfaction

Vergenoegd, and Professor Löw

Scythe

Scythe

On two, only you
And the extravaganza
Part implore, wicked lore
Every color, to originate
Or is it designation
Peach to the rot, keys to the lot
Untying celestial guesses
In the mark of motion horror
Some vein in the bull of lurch
To a mother in the insect sky
Warrant to the chains
Such one the pot to the island of a rib
And met the bearing of scorn
Who is magistrate of pointed skill
Dreams calling to the rise of bones
And corners are hardest to clean

Night's Might

Whenever night comes, I do empty my worries
Till the next dawn of another day for music-
Listening to its pleasure in meter and rhythm;
Work out on papers while driving all thoughts a lorry...

Thinking of who created thought in its simple plight
When designation form its shape to writing pieces:
Which beautifies memories of heart's running stream
Where loneliness swims in care and cheer.

Why will I stay in prison?
When the door is so wide open
To the precious silent moments of the night
Where thinking can bring joy
And ease the pressure in meditation corner to store
The best way challenges are tackled for living

Night fans the smoke of my desires to flame
And there, I receive visions to own the future.

My Father Sylvester Ekwobi

A story about my Sylvester,
Should yield a booster,
Every honest sentence defying a duster
His preferred designation, “A father” not Master.

Thirty-five years in an office 
That smelt of telephone and letter
But he wouldn’t telephone the police,
Relationships patching up for better

My own Sylvester 
Never bowed to any harvester,
Himself, a green finger,
Whose farm jobs didn’t linger.

My own Sylvester 
Would rather he chose polyester
In lieu of Esther
Or Augusta, 
The unlikeliest womanizer
And as  unlikelier rabble rouser.

My own Sylvester
Would’ve accepted a multitude’s lord
And just ended up a landlord,
Which little dropped him he might hoard
For infrequently paid rent
By tenants, on money matters, no Gent.
 
My own Sylvester 
Had sought to be a star
But rather won its scar, 
Which one could still celebrate in a bar

Over his uncertainty I pine
On  his being nearly Eighty Nine.

Sorry for losing your wife twenty four years ago
On 19th Nov. 1997, letting go.

Change

Change is won by burdens held
By broken spines and fists
Lost by information, long withheld
And furious fears never dispelled
But the struggle still persists
 
When change is won
The people weep
While others dance beneath the sun
Yet more believe the change undone
Though none shall ever sleep
 
But change is just a flimsy word
A phrase, a fancy designation
it’s meaning is constantly blurred
And its truth is so often unheard
For it can mean peace or perhaps damnation
 
Change is nothing but something
A hope that’s probably false
But it keeps the heart pumping
And keeps people trusting
So I guess it may be worth its faults

Charoset

Charoset is a sweet, brown relish eaten during Passover.
It symbolizes brick mortar on a plate during a Seder.
This is a sweet treat made for the season in all nations.
There is no single recipe.  Existing are many variations.
Included are apples, raisins, dates, and cinnamon.
Sometimes added are walnuts, figs, pomegranates, and saffron.
Charoset is usually placed between layers of unleavened bread.
Its thick texture makes it something easy to spread.
Often "dukeh" and "halegh" can be used as a designation.
May this Passover food be handed down to each generation.

I thank wikipedia.org for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.

Earthly Angel

~   each moment that I spend wrapped in your wings,

          means one less wasted 'midst those lesser things   ~








* This is a new form I've created called "Rithimus Duo Tantum", which means simply, "rhyme two only", and is made up of two lines of Rhyme taken from a previously written piece in their original order. (This was taken from a poem called "Afflatus"). Not really a form as such in itself, as there are MANY two-lined rhymes already, but I intend to use it for upcoming contests I will run, and needed to give it a designation. *

The Borg Are Coming

Resistance is futile
We will add your biological diversity to ours
The cubes are patrolling
Our injected nano technology will change you
We don’t eat be re-energise
And unless we perceive a danger we won’t worry about you
You will be added and changed
All that will remain is the number designation we give to you
We’ll take an eye but don’t be concerned 
You will be part of our perfection
Resistance is futile.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Love Your Name

D-o love your name, 
I-t's your reputation; 
A-lways be on guard, 
N-ever be beaten by
E-motion.

K-eep your own life proud, 
H-aving valid identity; 
A-llow not the bad things
T-o tarnish your
E-ntity.

D-istinctive designation
I-s gladly given sans shame; 
Z-ealously protect your clan, 
O-r always love your
N-ame.

Topic: Birthday of Diane Khate C. Dizon (December 21)

God Greatest of Divinity

GOD...Greatest..Of..Divinity
The power of existence,
time and intelligence.
Forming creation, beyond any imagination.
Dimensions that be planned, never to understand,
with universes that extend and expand.

Synergies and energies,
energies that create, control and regenerate.
Living, being, giving, receiving and dying.
All with imperfections and each own corrections,
generations after generations beyond experimentations.

Formations of universes with history and mystery,
forever changing and never ending.
What is, was, has and will be,
all limitless and timeless,
with a Karmic balance not just chance.

Preservation, designation, regeneration,
unlike religion.
Birth has death and death has worth.
Believe, in a soulful, spiritual, truthful self,
a God gifted wealth,
as God is....

Borderline K-9 Cages

Parental desperation
is the dreadful flee bidden cause
Children separation
is the inhumane quarantine effect

Trying to cross the sovereign divide
is narrow mindedly viewed, by more than a few,
as a pestilent travel venture
Ill will is the chilling, unhealthy reception

The uncivil solution: Create an insane policy
for poor souls seeking asylum
Man-made designation is an animal control way station,
(also known as) Borderline K-9 Cages

See the perennially sad puppy eyes
laying fetal prone on the morgue cold, concrete floors
Watch the waning wag of the tongues,
their thirst for freedom dying behind iron bar doors

National psychotic behavior is borderline criminal,
keeping children in cages is morally indefensible
Diamondback mutes devolving into what?
Mental worms turning into heartless slugs!

Children developing separation psychosis
is a lonesome doggone shame
K-9 kids were never meant to be raised in cages,
yet no one wants to bear the blame

But many of the kennel keepers 
have gotten so inured to the ear-piercing, borderline pain
And the womb-ripped parents
are never told where the aborted-trip children were taken

When All Falls Apart

When all falls...apart

at the seams of the impact

	stitch up some scribbles on paper

		and find meaning from descent


The fountain pen never fails once smudges
	
	have carefully dried over dissolute tears

		pale into insignificant blotches untold


The scale tips when expression

	finds designation and flows slowly

		from shackles and utter despair


Wail if you must but find your pitch

	let fever assemble the heat to cool

		down up again in letters and script


When everything falls...rise above it

	from catacombs and pitiful pits
	
		mute the cacophonous silence 

			
And write to your hearts discontent

	Sooner or later the broken soul will tell 

		another story to link freedom and ink

Land of Lost Time

Land of lost time... dark isolation
Unobserved recuperation
Not recoverable worry
Nonrecordable story
Unused daily recreation

User only designation
Wasted, postponed, cancellation
Collected space... never to see
Land of lost time

Equal time delineation
Priceless in evaluation
Time forgotten and not to be
Barren fields for eternity
No need for negotiation
Land of lost time


August 17, 2018


Rondeau Contest
By Joseph May
Image #4

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