A solo thread textures a pulsating fabric.
Fabric warms the community against the biting of the cold.
Cold fluxes when the heart nourishes the inglenook.
Inglenook flames spark in the neighbor's open hand.
Hand embraces the heaviness of the brother who missteps.
Missteps are repaired by the dust of the land.
Land respires as one through the beat of the barrel.
Barrel bangs the cadence that reconciles every humanity.
Humanity's humanness makes us become outgoing creatures.
Poem by Mugisho N.
thunder rumbles
constantly
off in a distance
even more thunder
thunder
gets closer
intensified
howling tempest
lightning flashes
thunderclaps
clap again
house shakes upon its foundation
gust's speed picks up
constant lightning flashes
bringing nitrogen to earth
i feel it turning plants green
wind chimes dance
jingle
play their tunes
independently
in the mist of the bluster
God's presence is real
i know He's here
in this chinook
i know my Protector lives
He cares
He's real
my humanness still is afraid
each shake
each flash
each intense billow scares
His presence keeps me
from falling apart
running scared
or panicking
Shadow black blood floods flow silently wailing in whirlpools
Volcanoes of endless enmity erupt with vengeance.
It's not humanness. Here, the mores of 'might is right' rules
Against routing quagmires, lotus buds fight for transcendence.
We shake hands like friends while minds float on clouds of fraudulence.
Amidst rocking crowds in digital sounds, we feel alone.
Wearing torn costumes of cleaved conscience, we seek vigilance.
Weeds of weariness spring up, wherefrom seeds of smiles are sown.
Like weak rams, we follow the rushing crowds to hit someone.
Who do we want to hit? Why do we want to? No one knows.
We make weapons and enable our young ones fight for fun.
Roots of truth hidden, falsehood from friendship flawlessly flows.
Why is each one who toils not the owner of their wages?
Why don't we end all dead ends that prevent our pilgrimages?
It was not very stately standing all alone,
A small tree full of pinnate foliage,
Had no appearance of being strong,
Looked rigid, this songbird and squirrel village.
Thought how vulnerable and helpless it looked,
All by itself out there on the lawn,
The trunk of the tree had a severe crook,
Yet, it had stood and survived numerous storms.
Once again heavy and stormy clouds rolled in,
Wind speeds soared at a massive rate,
Unbridled fury twisted each limb,
Without doubt, it would snap and death would be its fate.
The howling wind swelled with extreme deadly force,
Power only Mother Nature brings,
But defeat it refused to endorse,
For this submissive tree was strong enough to bend.
When the storm passed and the sun was shining bright,
The tree was straight though some broke in the wind,
Thought about our humanness in this light,
In hardships, the rigid snap; just the strong can bend.
My life should be like that tree,
Able to endure life’s harsh winds,
How much better it would be,
If I was strong enough to bend.
yeah …
we all feel so hopeless at times -
the end of our rope …
it’s part of our humanness
and our constant questioning of what role
we play in ‘Le Grand Dessein’ …
but here’s the thing -
we are ALL superheroes … that’s right
YOU … and this fool called ‘me’
we are champions of life
because we all possess two VERY powerful, utterly limitless, tools for living:
love … and imagination!
there are no bounds to either one -
they both transcend time, space, and the
oft’ chaotic confines of our ids …
they come in endless abundance, and with
no rules whatsoever!
they are yours and mine to explore without
restriction or constraint
and the more you use either one,
the more you’ll crave them …
I promise!
so, grab ahold of your superpowers -
(especially when hope seems lost)
wield them with kindness,
thoughtfulness,
and intent …
and see just how far they can
take you!
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 12, 2024
Does a rose bush bring forth cacti? Do tulips bloom bluebells?
Do grapes appear on Clematis vines? Figs on Banyan trees?
The instinct of creative blossoming, in each creature dwells
There's a clash between soft cells. Yet, the life breath brings in peace.
Is any human born good? Is any human born bad?
Humanness, like flowerness or fruitness, in all, abides
With treasures of goodness and evil, each human is clad
As scorpions hide under leaves, behind virtues, sin hides.
Aren't diamond chunks from among the coal rocks culled and cleansed?
Amidst value splits, there are humans with a good conscience.
Could the thoughts, words, and deeds of a giver be recompensed?
The evil, Jesus says, doesn't fathom the omniscience?
Hearts should be, as Jesus says, like streams, filled with compassion.
God graces your passion for compassion with dispassion.
Always control your temper,
don't explode in fits of anger;
not all appreciate kindness.
There are a few good people
and there are lots of bad ones
with different moods and tones:
there are those who worry less,
all they do is fair and noble!
As cruelly as people react,
don't take on their madness;
the more irrational they act:
the greater is their foolishness!
It's not the age of saints,
too widespread is insanity;
don't expect true honesty:
sinners outnumber angels!
As cruelly as people react,
stop them cold in their tract;
let your gathered wisdom reveal:
that being wise is an arm of steel!
There's a tendency in some of us
to fall prey to the remorseless liars:
not understanding what's truly right,
not being aware of wrong conduct!
As cruelly as people react,
it can have a drastic impact;
judge them with a godly insight:
they will see your shiny light!
When compassion is not felt,
when evil replaces goodness
we honor darkness, not light;
so distant is forgiveness,
so pathetic is humanness!
Do others often ask themselves,
" Are there days without darkness...
when another storm shows fierceness?
Has hope dimmed for selfish reasons? "
And the living pay little attention to events,
although they grin and appear to be perplexed;
and they miss every sign of the crucial times:
how can they not be aware? That's so absurd!
Are there days without darkness?
The evil ones embrace dark ideals
to accomplish a task linked to death,
to control and suppress each breath!
Anybody who holds the absolute power,
shouldn't neglect the masses with needs;
money is squandered on wars that drives:
brother against brother, sister against sister!
Lost is the concept of fairness, of humanness;
they silence the one who's forced to rebels against
the iron hand from the throne of false atonement:
they have built a dungeon fit for raving lions!
Are there days without darkness,
with limpid skies of unfaded blueness?
Are the paved roads free of thistles:
where all are safe from vile threats?
There's nothing positive about racism
However, this cancer dehumanizes everyone
This bacterium kills all good pisum sativum
All necessary ingredients that distinguish a human
From something worst than a sinful animal.
There's nothing good about racism
The racists are the naughty scums of the es
The vile predators that thrive on controversial
Issues, the narcissistic skunks, and the bogus kites
That won't fly during a storm of schism and racialism.
Racism is reserved for the worst fetid pest
Racism is of course for the worst of the worst
Racism is indeed for the funkiest of the funkiest
Racism is reserved for the most hangdog waste
Slavery is the original bigot of racism and bias
From this narcissistic evil begets race and unfairness
Slavery is an abhorrent crime against humanness
The most abject and fusty form of selfishness.
Copyright © July 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry
Why does my consciousness get swiftly corroded?
Why my conscience finds itself in contradiction?
Why with strange thoughts, words, and actions mind get loaded?
Why betwixt likes and dislikes there's constant friction...?
Soul soft, as a gentle tender breeze gets soon swayed,
The spirit within, by cares and worries, is hauled;
Cracks in the axle of awareness make verve jade,
My senses, like birds and beasts, in slavery, stalled...!
This is, hence, I have decided to cleanse myself,
All that is making me drown in the sea of dread,
Should be shed and the soul should become a fresh shelf,
Wherein humanness should its motherly wings spread...!
In a bodiless, celestial space now I swim,
All that entrapped me, like a hunter's net, are gone;
Desires defeated heart and mind possess no whim,
Cleansed of all pitch dark clouds I see a dazzling dawn...!
Renunciation and detachment have been born,
And have started dwelling in me, making me light;
Indifferences, like dust in the gale, are blown,
My bond with each being has become rightly tight...!!!
Milk and honey flow?
Do gems and jewels glow?
Are lions tender and mild?
Is a tiger like a child?
Is this the ninth cloud?
Or a joy shroud?
Hyperopia?
Utopia?
What an aspiration in me!
This heavenly place to see!
Desperately I walked far... far
As far as the highest sky par
As a deer finding mirages
Jungle-desert-hill collages
I could not, lo, find such a place
After many a long forlorn race
In humanness
Filled with faithfulness
Compassion
In heavenly fashion
And in love
As descending from above
I could find Xanadu
The divine avenue...
27 April 2023
Be it kings, commoners no less,
Know, humanness is not in dress.
In rage nor yet is it in love,
A raging sage has it no less.
Words nor manners make any case,
In kindness, not in mere embrace.
Not oft traced in a holy place,
In act, not just in kindly face.
Faced on Judgment Day upon death,
It’s not in lifetime’s tall address.
It is in lifelong commitment,
Not when life breaks for short recess.
It's not something in an oath to confess,
Humane to be, not else is humanness.
_________________________________
Ghazals |06.01.2023| humanity
I readily admit I am a country bumpkin
But I am no buffoon
I am in this to build others up
To help others win
To raise up my neighbors and my friends
We hear about the coastal towns
Both east and west coast have terrific reputations
Their people are more sophisticated, more stylish, chic.
It is fashionable at both coasts to be less hands-on.
To be less community oriented.
In the big citiies of the coasts, people on the streets do not speak.
They do not smile.
They do not say “hi”.
They walk past each other, like trotting lamp posts.
Not noticing faces or inflections.
Not noticing humanness in each other.
I am in New York City today, trying to figure it out.
Where is a guidebook to help me unlearn social niceties?
How can I immediately become less human? Less caring?
How do I not say “hi” to everyone I pass?
Is there a manual? A cheat sheet? A U-tube video?
Too late. I am already here, feeling miserable.
Wishing I was back in the Midwest where it is okay to care about strangers.
I see you beyond
your humanness,
your one of a kind-ness.
When you recite your work, it
pricks the ears of nightingales,
they stand still and listen,
their heads tilt to one side,
they are captivated by the rich tone of your voice.
Same—when you write a couplet,
a rhyme, a haiku, a free verse,
sharing your innermost thoughts,
your words remind us of good times and sad times,
and of special occasions we’ve lived.
They make us laugh or shed a tear
cos we can relate and we are moved.
We trip on nostalgia.
The aura bringing your words alive
makes them shine bright for all to read;
enriching hearts, reaching deep under the skin,
arousing goosebumps, while motivating and healing.
Thoughtfulness lodged between each word—
not ordinary words—but words bearing intentions
to display truth, to heal and connect souls.
Our lives are enriched by your metaphors and rhymes.
Dear poets, you are a freaking, exceptional breed!
Owl reminisces her days of being a human
Looks longingly at mother holding her child close
Remembering the feeling of that warmth
Recalling the love from her children
The moon has brought back her memories
Something lost in the daytime during sleep
She takes another forever after peek through the window
Hoping to regain her humanness in her next lifetime
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