To be so misunderstood
How maddening tis.
For soul, its profit alone
Who, speaking up, groan.
Who's cravings run counter to
Whom the ego feeds.
Their sum includes what as rife
Starves world of real life.
Stop explaining—Soft the Tongue,
When Deafness wears a Crown—
The Ear that chooses not to hear
Is Tyrant of the Sound—
The Truth has feet—it walks alone—
Needs not a pleading Guide—
It knocks—but if the Door be sealed,
It passes—unapplied—
To argue with determined Night
Is to instruct the Dark—
The Sun expends no Reasoning
To justify its Spark—
Your Meaning is not made more pure
By Bruising it with Prayer—
The River is not altered by
The Thirst that waits in Air—
Be still—The Pearl explains itself
To those with Eyes to see—
The rest may clutch their chosen Shade
And call it Mystery—
Withdraw your Voice from barren Fields
Where Echo will not grow—
Consent no more your Soul be spent
On those who will not know—
For Silence is the Final Shield
When Hearing is a Wile—
And Peace—does not persuade the World—
It simply—wears its Smile—
The difference between poetry, prose
and prayer lies in the written form...
The similarity is present
when love and faith are present...
Poetry truly exists when:
It is written,
it is inscribed,
it serves:
In equality,
honesty,
integrity,
humanity,
spirituality,
evolution, and truth
in the service of God...!
God wants poetry
to be a harmonious bridge
between the physical and the spiritual,
between today and tomorrow.
the key link in evolution...!
Every well-spoken word,
when written with love,
is poetry...!
In a fervent,
fragrant, loving home...
poetry makes its home,
a poet owns it!
Poetry is not a trivial hobby,
it is, indeed, elegant and noble,
a lifestyle...!
I write poetry
because we are partners,
loyal companions...
I make it, it makes me...!
I'm training myself to reside on this cruel painful side. WILLFUL SPIRIT I glide when I can barely tolerate this GAME I watch the FLAME. That BLAZE THE FLARE! From HERE?! HYPNOTIZING! The heat within ME IS the SAME! Watch the clock I HAVE at THIS TIME SUCCEEDED! I was meant for this I AM ME I EXIST no further explanation....ION!!!
Malik Val Brooklyn Rogers Black Panther Jet Blackest Answerer!
Explaining My Thoughts?
Miracle Man
(Archives)
Trying to explain some thoughts
Is like trying to discern why I had them;
But then, thoughts aren’t meant to be explained
And more often than not, go unshared;
Some people are terrified of him she said
But give him a chance, okay?
Is he scary? I asked her.
Not to me, she said.
She is afraid of nothing. That meant little.
I took his address.
He lived in a remote place
On a desolate road
When I saw his house, a snicker came out of me, unbidden.
I could not stop laughing.
His home was shaped like a human skull.
How inventive, how original, now marvelous.
I could hardly wait to meet her brother, the artist.
Let's understand that Love is not invented...
It is ready...
Words are not what concretes It to be...
It is the essence that is not seen...
Love does not follow rules,
it is an anarchist by nature ... I
We need to feel it ..
So that we maybe be ready
to live its immensity, its Full intensity... !
!
PS. reading a poetess girl friend, Juli Lima
Drinking tea (cha)mate (herb mate) in the bombilla, is a tradition in the south of America, mainly among the gauchos (Argentine, Brazilians, etc)
The bombilla is filled with the herb mate heated in temperature palatable and each person sucks the infusion little by little and passes it on to someone else... In this case, my girlfriend took her mate and
passed me first the bombilla, (so called utensil )
then I sucked
tea mate with some of the taste
from her mouth... That's how I created
my little poem...
PS Each bombilla contains an infusion for 10 sips, so it passes to 10 people at a time, then it is filled again and the passage from mouth to mouth repeating again...
It’s easy to complain about
The things we cannot change
And those who don’t complain at all
I think are mighty strange.
Yet trying to improve our lot
Is often way too hard
So many just get stuck in gear,
The path to progress barred.
Not wanting to be viewed
As doing nothing, we maintain
That nothing really can be done
And therefore, we complain.
GOD
explain God,
too easy...
Enough not to explain... !
GOD II
It's just that you can't...
we explain God in this way
what do we feel,
is God... !
Like the mist of an early morning rain
and the love of an older dog
Like the spontaneous hug from a passing child
and coffee from a mountain fire
Like a call from an old retired friend
and the memory of one who left
Like those boots now broken in at last
and a map whose roads have changed
Like the smell and taste of a memory lost
and not the mileage but the miles
Like a rainbow reaching out at dawn
and the distant whistle of a train
Like a promise made for its own sake
and a marriage not on loan
Like a burden once it’s lifted free
and the present not the past
Like a thing put off, put off again
and the reasoning unknown
Like an hour spent inside a dream
and a wish that’s more than hope
Like your name when called to stand your ground
and the courage that’s required
Like a song you’ve heard a thousand times
and whose words still feel the same
Like a river rushing toward the sea
and a boy who knows its mind
Like a favored son to share your name
and the bond to keep it so
Like a reason that you can’t disclose
and the one who never asks
Like that girl who keeps your faith alive
—and your heart forever free
(The New Room: April, 2021)
Sorry kid's
But unfortunately sadly
Christmas won't be the
same this year as the one's
you are used to
Because you know how you
see people wearning masks
now
Well Santa and his Reindeer
have also caught Covid-19
and got sick
And the reindeer can't fly in
masks so he won't be able to
deliver any presents this year
But he told me to tell you just
how very disappointed and sorry
he is
And he also knows how good you
have been and he promises he
will make it up to you next year
Innocently shocked, they surveyed their new abode
midst warm welcome of strangers introducing themselves
sweetly assuring, “We are your family --- starting today.”
Such captivating look would soon grip my heart
when they candidly confronted me with this question I found it hard to explain
to kids, aged six and four… “Why are you now our Mommy?
With truth I prayed to impart, my soul reached out to them
cognizant of their status as siblings among our orphanage residents...
I let them feel my care, and that of my fellow staff along our reverberating: “We love you; yet God loves you so much to bring you here.”
Their understanding vis-à-vis home verities has been enlightened
through bits of life realities along Scriptural precepts:
their exposure to joyous relationships as well as delight for togetherness
bonded with the Lord’s compassion beyond blood and gene’s kinship…
Such enabled them not to be ignorant about family* essence.
*Psalm 68:6 God setteth the solitary in families…
October 2, 2020
3rd place, "The Unexplained" Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire; judged on 10/2/2020.
If the poem everything
explains,
wouldn't be what
is ... always a
puzzle...!
If the poem were
only precise language,
it wouldn't be poetry,
would be language
technique ...
I waited for love
Literally staying up
Moments after chasing bucks
I’ll FaceTime you a bunch of times
You gave me butterflies
at first I seen the worm in the apple
So I didn’t appreciate you when I had you
Now I’m decreasing my value
Women see I trashed gold
Now all the kids that thrift
gain opportunities to double bag
a queen in plain clothes
Every 6 months I change phones
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