The Pearl
A pearl was formed in a lowly shell
By a painful grueling process.
This goodly pearl was found by a man
Who kept it in his office.
One day it was stolen,
And soon was lost
In a field of dirt and rock,
Until a gardener dug
And found the pearl,
Then placed it in a sock.
He took it home
To give to his wife,
And she kept it for awhile.
She gave it to her oldest girl
Who received it with a smile.
"It's my greatest treasure"
The little girl said,
And covered it with cloth.
She placed it in a tiny box,
Set on a bedroom shelf.
"I will keep this pearl
Until I grow old
And begin to lose my health.
Finally, the little pearl sighed,
As it lay in it's tiny home
"Alas, can't they see
I am of greatest price.
I am here to give
them love and peace
Yet, they won't behold me twice."
Copyright 2011, Kathryn D. Search
She shows empathy in every kind of way
Compassion parades ahead of her every day
Humanity dispersed as she attends the fray
How can she consistently and always be
Full of love for her fellow beings with glee?
She is as the neighbors and friends clearly see.
Animosity gone, for she is a delight
Indifference to anyone would not feel right.
There is no malice in this woman’s light.
Anita had her parents called aside
To press my fervent case
But had herself taken aside
And shown its other face:
She is simply carat gold!
In case she has not been told:
Only A True Hero to her hold,
A treasure not for everybody’s race
And, thus, cause for A Goodly Chase
That should in the end preserve her Grace;
In shot to be collected by The Bold
Who shall round her his fingers fold
Or, better, to The Highest Bidder sold!
Thank you Anita for pressing my case
And with just that saving my face!
"A goodly, gainful thing"
Caribou told me
"To leave, once in a while
Home's high-ground safeness;
To roam, for what as sun-grassed
Lies in wait sweetly
Fills which need, Surprise's;
Feeds on vast Newness."
"And the most jubilant!"
Dragonfly added.
"To up and go, but now
Out which comfort zone
With that relief's burst, once deemed
Unthinkable sped!
Isle-eying, isle-engaged!
Floaty; no more lone!"
You are done with a fill of your say
In a poem with a will and a way
In the whole of your rest
You are full of the zest
That you bring to the start of each day.
As you read the new poem on your plate
And you know that your meaning is great
You are struck by the fact
Of the words that you lacked
When you wrote in a more groggy state.
You may cringe at the post you have made
When your poem is too quickly displayed
You may write at the speed
Of a more pressing need
To be good when your pride is delayed.
For the poet is never quite read
Who is less than a fight in his head
He will do more than rust
For the sake of a trust
In the future of reading ahead.
Thousands foetus, swim strong and freely
The fortress, the womb well defended
On the spaceship of time one gets opportunity
It's 'She', let her breathe the world's scent
Wish to be in the world's arms, laps
Do not let.....
- Thursday, July 25, 2019 Chattogram
***poem on female foeticide***
"A Goodly Warning"
by Rachel Heffington
O! Time is a faerie-maid, dark is her dairy laid:
Larders of mem'ry and amethyst lore.
But one kiss from her lips
On your lips as she slips
One cold hand in your pocket will finish the chore.
For her kiss it is sweet
It is death, it is meat
It is sharp as a bone-frost and light as a wheat
In her bed, poppy-reds
glimmer bright as she shreds
All your best years of life into raggedy threads.
O! She picks every purse with a laugh and a curse
but a beggar she stays till the end of no end.
For her girtle is trim
From the breast to the hem;
She must ever stay hungry to eat what you lend.
Never thanks, never smile,
Such small coinage is vile
In pay for the life-years snipped off of a man.
But a kiss for the road
- Age and Slumber your load -
And a red-lipped farewell where your trouble began.
O! Time is a faerie-maid, dark is her dairy laid:
Larders of mem'ry and amethyst lore
But one kiss from her lips
On your lips as she slips
One cold hand in your pocket will finish the chore.
A goodly bard’s spirit passing in dark sky of night
wafts a long way off into bright radiating light.
Glad honor; God’s choir now starts to sing.
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