What if insurgency or killings last longer than necessary
What if none of the government is involved
What if it is through external influence
What if they are bound to occur
What if all Boko Haram actions are not of emissary
What if they are not been dissolved
What if it doesn't to any affluence
What if none turns a cur
What if Bandits never exist
What if more lives got lost through other means
What if the constitution don't address resolution
What if there is no room for punishment
What if Kidnapping persist
What if it can be traced to genes
What if ransom increases elocution
What if it is recognized as an ancient
What if Fulani herdsmen killings continues
What if the farmers succumb
What if the acts bring peaceful night
What if the more thanks the more trouble
What if Oil bunkering stops
What if poverty crumb
What if all Barrels are tight
What if no barrel makes rubble
If all these have been ravaging
Should we all agree
If all these have truly being
Won't it be better we rule by decree?
Philologus of Sinope
Holy Emissary of the Chrestos
One of the seventy stars
Lit by the heavenly Son of the Good
Shining over the Black Sea
A babe was raised by that star for the Church
Rays of great enlightenment
Raised the boy’s soul to the heavenly Good
The star’s love for the Logos
Tore away the man’s tight shackles of death
A fisherman blessed the star
The shipmaster carried the head of Paul
The star was Philologus
His son’s name was Marcion of Sinope
(“Corpus Callosum", 2018, original encaustic)
Right Brain, Left Brain
Two halves of a whole
Complimentary opposites
Passive/active, imaginal/verbal
Figurative/literal, depressive/manic
Outside and within time
A master and his emissary
Inside us all.
Yet each of us have our own balance
Our own comfort zones
And range of tolerance.
Like a finger print
Within our brain
Leaving its subtle mark
On everything we think, say and do.
Viva the difference!
I say
While my right brain
Just watches, impassively
As thought bubbles form, drift and fade away
To an ambient soundtrack
Of invisible spheres…
(3/7/25)
A ruinous filth spills onto the page
Like sap from a trees rotting heart
Hands covered in black
The speaker of my memories
Smooth and razor thin
An emissary of ink
I envy the pen and it’s melan-written spiels
Armored with a voiceless vignette
It is its only way to prove that it’s master is alive
Feverishly pushing its point to a fading death
Is this the fate of all who pick up a pen,
or am I the unlucky who withers among the living
Buried and fossilized beneath a healthy pink tongue
Are my words not memorable ?
Will my efforts be admired?
Have I not earned a meaningful epilogue?
Ukraine and our shame
Now that Ukraine is pardoning prisoners
to join the army, except the violent murderers
(one would think the violent were the right ones)
it tells us of an army scraping the barrel of
recruits, all eligible men have fled, which is
understandable, why fight a lost war, a war
not needed if a sensible head had been heard
After, the then President Zelensky, had agree
a peace pact with Russia, an English emissary
told him not to sign, upon hearing this
thousands of young men hastily left Ukraine
The fact it was an English emissary is typical
the English has hated the Russians, since
a cousin of Queen Victoria was killed by
the communists
It is sad to notice after thousands of young
men have been killed, in this futile war
the West advice is for the ex-president
to find a peaceful solution with Russia
the many newspapers which condemned
and got us to believe in the many lies told
will now tell us the way to end the war is
to sign a contract, with the old enemy
FALSE
EVIDENCE
APPEARING
REAL
Fear is the utmost liar of all liars
he is a bully that won't back down
relentlessly at your tail
he can really bring on the hail
Fear is Satan's favorite trump card
and God's worse enemy
palpable but real, always illusionary
he can be your worse emissary
FEAR
don't let it ever beat you, nor get you down.
January 22, 2023
Fear Is Liar Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
You are optimistic, refreshed, and you bring this to the world.
Having been closer to God more recently than the rest of us.
We recognize your power, seeing heaven in your eyes.
Your joy spills over and saturates us, making us want to do better.
Your laughter is a balm that fixes hearts and changes minds.
We need you in this world, even though we did not know it until now.
You were sent as an emissary, an angel, a muse in many ways.
We cannot imagine life without you now.
We hope that you never lose your spark, your power to uplift.
You were sent here to change the world, and so far you have.
God knew what He was doing when He gave you to us.
We will do our best, to keep you enthusiastic and on His path.
A frozen pulse a synergy and soon she was iced like cold hard glass.
Poor Clea in her purple orchid dress ensconced in a crevice of time,
from the icy tendrils of Ikthalon. Icy winds blow from the bowels of hell
she is rendered still as ice pellets pelt on her weakened body;
He wraps the sun and blindfolds the stars then plummets to earth with demonic intentions to search and destroy.
Along comes an omega mutant " Iceman" with a
hard packed intention to stop the villain from exploiting her.
Radiating intense cold from every tendon and nerve in his body,
he wraps a gossamer fabric round her to thaw her gently from
the frost bites and nips of her emissary, the evil Doctor Strange.
A multi-verse madness of evil it was but as the clock struck twelve
in Time Square, Clea defrosts and sashays forward in her pencil dress.
Using her tele-ported thoughts, she enters another dimension where
Icemen are heroes and Spiderman rules.
This is where the story ends folks. Tune in for a sequel,
same place same time, reporting to you from Time Square.
Aug 7 2022
I
One more my friend, one more
ice cold beer golden filled,
till I alone face my mortal end
by death’s emissary killed.
Where haunts a ghost of mine
whom I once much owed...
one more my friend, one more,
just one more for the road
II
One more my friend, one more
boding self-evident truth,
but fear not a day of reckoning
nor an everlasting reproof.
Behold the virgin and the whore,
alas both have sins to bear…
one more my friend, one more
fork in a road to nowhere
III
One more my friend, one more
lost courage for me to find,
to forgive a troubled weary soul
and rest with peace of mind.
Let church bells ring for brides
and infants in holy baptism...
one more my friend, one more
old demon for my exorcism
IV
One more my friend, drink up
and seek a blessing now,
seek a true salvation and pray
that you find it somehow.
And if I pass before my time
among the grateful dead…
drink up old friend, drink up
and live long in my stead!
Written: December 1996
What an adversary!
All threats thinking necessary,
Even involving an emissary
And claiming knowledge of Sorcery!
In front of my peaceful door,
Ranting and later swore
To with me wipe the floor
And after hurt me the more,
For sweat to break out from every pore
And I feel ill-will to the core …
In front of my receiving door
Quoting pains no man ever bore
That could through a heart bore
And if they failed, at same gnaw:
Pains that peace of mind tore
Threats of a morning raining till Four.
Stars sent an emissary to the planet in the form of gold.
She transmogrified into a faerie, so she could mingle.
With the wisdom of a wise woman who gets totally old.
She decided to live her life as herself, remaining single.
But alas, she fell in love with a powerful man.
He was a unicorn tamer and he had a gentle fair heart.
Staying single was not in the stars now for Pan.
Yes, this was her name; her sweet nature was an art.
The man had no idea this darling faerie was in love.
He was nice to everyone, so also to her of course.
She asked for some help from the stars far above.
They told her to have patience with this man, Old Norse.
Old Norse and Pan were well suited and had lots of fun.
They shared meals, had long talks, and had picnics at the park.
Pan invited him to dinner, and he was surprised he was the only one.
He now knew the invite was much more than a lark
When they started getting serious, Pan had to show him her home.
He was surprised when she flew him to a new planet among the stars.
They transported his unicorns, his cat, his dog, and his poem.
He had written one, in honor of Pan, who was now driving space cars.
April Ambassador
April, ambassador of spring, appears -
Mediator of the truce
Between dusky winter’s sighs
Of first snowfalls
And the incense of l’air du temp
Where mourning doves entwine with peaceful wings –
The scent of cashmere’s spring
Soft upon the meadow;
Envoy of hope’s wild spice in Resurrection,
Sweeping away the dead odor of winter’s tomb,
Consul coaxing breath into oxygen,
Spring’s letters of introduction,
In strawberry scented tresses,
Overflow with summer’s promise
Redolence of fresh seed
Overflowing from her diplomatic pouch
In deep furrows of earthy loam’s consecration
Curving round the hilltop
Envoy of soft rains tenderly opening a closed door
To negotiate between days mingling with warmth
And diamond edged dewy nights
Emissary ushering in the pungent potpourri
Agent of yearning for the seasonal zest
In the sweet cologne of truce for rose attar.
4-16-21
Contest: Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
L’air du temp – Air of Spring – also the name of a perfume
Window of frost and window of filled with flashes of crimson.
One full of wonder, the other holds evil things dead.
I am determined to do whatever I need to do to help this soul.
She has gone limp, not wanting to make any decisions yet.
She is ours yell the demons, background flashing scarlet tonight.
Quiet! The angels whisper, showing her a delicate sense of awe.
As emissary, I am not supposed to have favorites, yet I do.
She is not ready, I tell them. This might be return soul; better to wait.
The angels are agreeable, they begin fading in their dazzling way.
The demons are demanding, angry they have made a trip for nothing.
She belongs to our realm, Damion tells me, thinking he will scare me.
I am not releasing her yet, I reply. Stay if you want. They disappear.
My back aches. This always happens when I catch devil emotions.
Girl opens her eyes. ”Am I dead?" She is young, pretty, hopeful.
I do not reply at first not wanting to influence her decision in any way.
The windows are clear now; maybe it will make her choice easier.
A blossom I’ll be on the wreaths for peace
An offering to deity to feed world’s hungry
I’ll be the garden on every troubled street
Preening as gleefully as exuberant tulips
Swaying with spring in rhythms of daffodils
I’ll be the laudable bouquet of friendship
An emissary of cupid when love is elusive
A gift I’ll be, from souls of dreams romantic
I’ll be the cure when dear-heart is aching
A sensuous rose I’ll be, alluring bride to be
I’ll be sweet smile of expressions in violet
Pleasing smitten hearts on lilac landscapes
Presenting bell-shaped English bluebells
Tenderly in aura of angel’s blessed grace
I’ll be the enlightenment in lotus of solace
Lovingly I’ll answer every call of your will
In colors of hyacinth upon your window sills
And fragrance of white Lily evoking revelry
Composing gaily dulcet themed melodies
Strumming floral kisses on your sateen lips
January 31, 2021
Placed 2nd: If I were a flower premium contest
Oh, beatific lotus flower, blossom of my pious soul
How brilliantly you ascend, sparkling in sunrise gold
Being the emissary of divinity ancient tenets behold
Invigorating spiritual vibes unwavering beliefs extol
Oh, tender touch of angels, purity of enlightened life
How mystically your petals divulge esoteric delight
Kneeling for mortal beings, submerging into the night
Yearning renewal upon cleansing unwelcome strife
Oh, sage of wisdom, imperial emblem of knowledge
How you rise again and again, edifying life and death
Heavenly spirits you elate awakening human intellect
Illuminating senses in revelations of Buddhist texts
Oh, symbol of rebirth, essence of pure revered faith
How prayers of sacred words in your epiphany toll
Where rhythms of my heart in tenor of nirvana echo
As you grant eternal peace to mortals lost on earth
Oh, beatific lotus flower, blossom of my pious soul
January 1, 2021
Placed 5th: Lotus of my heart poetry contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Placed 5th: Your choice (43) contest by Brian Strand
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.