Lawlessness comes home to roost
Israeli settlers’ troubles self-induced
Fool ‘lawmakers’ look the other way
for their crimes, settlers never pay
Yet killing innocents wasn’t enough
now a church attacked, Huckabee got tough
When Arabs attack them, settlers are rightly up in arms
but it doesn’t entitle them to do a church any harm
If they don’t get the message this time, along with their fool supporters
Messrs. Huckabee and Trump will give the settlers their marching orders
About scriptural paradox, "No one who
comes to Me will hunger," book of John
answers, albeit at surface value, aplomb
nature believers' satisfaction that they too
disburden all. Book of Matthew in that it
lights, "Blessed those who hunger," oath
everybody who seeks in need will receive.
Lesson: Teaches a somewhat juxtaposition
insights side-by-side parity as it's entitled.
True believers hunger for God, He satisfies.
I dream a dream
With my Father
That had made me
In his image
He gave me
Grey hair and brown eyes
Every body tells me that I am a
Young handsome men
Who has grey hair
Yes I am wear that people
Are entitle to their opinion
About my self
I don't agree with them
I feel that is ok
Also I am not a young men anymore
I have aged already
Every single year
And I Can't stop that
Because my Father
Made life that way
I dream a dream
With my loved ones
Every single night
When I am sleeping
Yes I have been missing my loved ones
For a long time now
I wished that they were alive
To see how fast I have matured
Today I have grown more religious
I don't go to bed without praying for my father
Every single night
Also I am one of my Father's child
Also he gave me a beautiful life
Here on earth
And that life I live every single day
Here on earth
Please Father don't let me die young
Because I want to live until I am 80 years old
First six lines of my triolet entitled “Wrapped in White” followed by my contrasting six lines which I’ll entitle “Crestfallen in Snow”
I long to tread upon the snow
in hush of winter, wrapped in white;
in feathered mounds serenely go.
I long to tread upon the snow.
The boughs hang low; no wind doth blow.
My love, come see the wondrous sight!
Who wants to trudge in knee-high snow
especially in cold of night
when wind chill factor’s ten below?
Cars slide off roads and fierce winds blow.
Boughs break and icicles hang low.
Stay, Dear, instead, by our firelight!
days go by and i am the same
things around me change
yet my mind thinks the insane
good things happen
but i stale on worse ones
opportunities missed and i live on regrets
my head spins on a thousand stories
assumptions-lies-words-actions
interpreted in ample different ways
dwell on thoughts that dont matter
ignoring things that actually matter
if it's not perfect it's nothing
grinding myself everyday
fear clouds my mind-what if
worst case scenarios I entitle myself to
criticizing everything that makes me- me
highlighting my insecurities
not letting me be
you'll never be enough
you don't deserve love
walls built around me so i don't wound
you chose to break the ice-i choose you
oh how i wish i showed my true self
how i wish i would show what i really feel
do what i want to do
so at the end of the day
I wouldn't come back to a miserable me
To E.M.T.’s a vital sign
Is something they can measure –
Your pressure, pulse rate, temperature –
Not data we can treasure.
But I would add one to the list
That I believe’s worthwhile;
To me, the most important sign
Has got to be the smile.
For when we’re feeling happy –
With no sickness, grief or stress,
Our face reflects that knowledge
With a grin we can’t suppress.
It isn’t fair that joy is something
Life cannot entitle
Yet I would say it manifests
In signs that sure seem vital.
Slowly I see the light decrease off your hand
You say love but do you see my eyes
Surviving you is a long vanished pen
As building it through is what I witness
Occasionally you grasp me effortless
This new found conviction is astonishing
As you see my devotion but never entitle it
Perhaps in time you will revolutionize
So I give you my voice to authentic expectation
Love should never harm, as I do find you irresistible
I pray to up beyond but at wish some things aren't precise
So I just listen to a spirit, as my future plays a shipping canal
And this is the power, the power of now.
I was a name,
You gave me fame.
I was a title,
Which you entitle.
I was a light,
You made it bright.
I was a sound,
you made it aloud.
When my life was full of tragic ,
You showed your magic.
I was just,
You made it must.
Thanks for entering into my life,
Making sure I will enjoy it's flight
I wish to write an encomium for myself
Paint it's hue with my mother's advice and my father's guilt
For it will dress the colour of my heart
Purple
Which fell pale to the clutter of their voices In my adolescent nights
A glance of this write will make my eyes swim to the rivers of their arguments
I wish to entitle it childhood.
Her ego might
Have her to
Find reconciliation
a difficult process
beyond a need to
have meaning
definitions entitle
people to their roles
in love
fiance might be one
she never wished to be
but wife she fully embrasses
because of its definition
Entitlement creates a sense
of belonging
It empowers one with
rights and responsibilities
when the need of understanding
Is challenged
The mere words
Husband or
Wife
Gives meaning to what's
Going on
mommy was woken up by your early arrival
she decided it was time to open up the bible
as she read she realized it was time to be more mindful
she ask god to forgive her for being so spiteful
what she went through with you she felt it was so frightful
she saw things now in a different way she seemed more insightful
she knows now she wants to change her ways and be a righteous prideful.
she understood you came to soon because changes to be made were vital
one day soon real soon a status she'll entitle
she said the life we live right now is just not even rightful
she seems different now , she said GOD sent her a disciple
in the past she had been oh so trifle
I think maybe you were her disciple
Now the future is filled with smiles and a happiness so delightful
Shall I entitle you 'my Queen,'
Or treat you like a princess?
Do you remember where we've been
Through this very special days?
So, I have to admit.
Yesterday was with us.
You were a fair brunette,
And I'm that handsome lad.
We bumped on into each other
And you, dear, was almost mad.
You scared me of your monstrous stare,
But I threw you back my love.
Now my hair had turned to gray.
And your hair too;
And there's these words I'd like to say:
'Babe, I love you.'
this is the world
on this earth
we the simple, all poor peoples
now on the queue of refugee
the refugees
no right us the poor of here
-for any country
-for any living place
-for surviving on good food
-for education or medical treatment
on the other hand
the ruler of the world
they are superpower
they are political gambler
they entitle themselves
an aristocratic, elite, civilized……….!
and for the poor refugees
they can select - uncivilized, savage.............!
-September 24, 2019 Chttogram
Trust or mistrust, my heart afflicted with the disease of love,
The love that brims the feeling in waves of fluctuation,
The affection that soars up in heaven and drills down an abyss,
Staying love in constant is not my heart's complexion,
World of moderation, nurtured and raised I, yet resistance to alteration.
Lady, profess not your love because my heart is untameable,
Nor I can comprehend though I contemplated much for change,
More than tears my heart hurts sometimes, of unfindable reasons,
And the saddest spot in the globe is nowhere, but in my heart,
Inscrutable I, to receive and take your love is; abhor blunder.
Lady, you pure and fair as wings of the fairest butterfly,
I, the blossom of the bush, trampled by every living souls with hatred,
I deserve not even what I owe, so I shall not entitle your love,
Leave! Spread your wings and take a venture, as rose and lotus await you,
I am ruined and withered already, so ere conversion of me, leave
"Thou art That" (Chandogya Upanishad 6.8.7 of the Sama Veda)
You wanna know what’s something you are not?
It is that easy. Take a piece of paper,
divide it into two parts with a pen,
entitle the left side as “I”, the right
one – “It” and then think twice about who
you are. A mate? A son? A spouse? A father?
Etcetera. Write down them on the left
and think again. What’s It? A pen? A paper?
The writing table you are sitting at?
The house you’re living in? Write down
them all on the right side and then cross out
the features which are neither You nor It.
Is “I” of you entirely determined
by features “man”, “taxpayer”, “citizen”?
Cross features out. Cross out everything
that’s not the real Itness which includes
all sets of Its throughout the universe,
reducing both lists until just “I”
and “It” remain. Read the result aloud...
Hm, I am It. The rest is I am not.
01.08.2019
Something I Am Not Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
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