My destination
Royalty above the stars
How humbled I am
Have you ever been wrong?
I was wrong.
Ugly, smugly wrong.
Psephologically wrong.
Hit the iceberg,
smoking’s good for you,
the treaty of Versailles,
left on red,
Copernicus, Aristotle, Custer,
wrong.
I’m not claiming an excuse,
wrong.
It wasn’t you,
it was me,
wrong.
Just fricking
kiss a frog
wrong.
Wrong all along,
wrong about the world,
reevaluate me wrong,
wrong, wrong, wrong.
I can admit I was wrong.
Can you forgive me,
can I forgive me,
wrong
.
.
Songs for this:
Waters of March by John Roseboro & Mei Semones
Stabilise by Nilüfer Yanya
.
.
Webster: Psephology = the scientific study of elections.
Blue rivulets of vein on the inside of her wrist,
That shallow valley between her hip
And the bottom of her belly,
The inside of her knee
Where her calf met her thigh,
I remember this girl.
Like the fury of a thousand suns
I remember her.
This woman’s power
To point a finger, or wave a hand,
Disintegrate a life,
Or plot the course of futures.
A simple “yes” or “no”
To open the gates of paradise
Or expel you to the cavernous blackness
Of endless empty space
In place
Of where she stood.
gorgeous hybrid slipper orchid
with your dainty spots and dots
muted yellow with white ruffles
your confidence commendable
your beauty undisputed
I feel humbled to be entrusted to your care
rice and gravy perfectly made
for some reason, the liver goes well with it
i would rather have some neckbones
however, somebody out there and hungry would love to take my place right now
buttermilk biscuits almost puts me to sleep
the honey butter is a pleasant surprise
the shells and cheese with bacon bits, to me, balances it out rather well
i remember when i was that somebody out there hungry wishing i was who i was observing while salivating
one night, i middle aged guy stopped at my car and told me his story
i went into a burger king and bought him some food and a cup of water
at the time, i had just finished eating dinner bought with my plasma donation money
the tears of gratitude in his eyes represented his truth to me
i drove back 'home' that night heavily humbled
To learn to be grateful,
to me means to be humbled.
Life has a funny way,
of doing exactly as they say,
have gratitude
and you will receive in magnitude,
lessons on life that hold true.
I have faith in you.
Watch as I stumble,
hear me roll and rumble,
like thunder I am heard,
as I look to the skies
my vision is blurred,
by the mistakes that litter my path,
I can feel other's wrath.
Drop me to my knees
and show me all there is to see.
Take my will and my life
and humble me.
Take my faults of character,
take my hand as I walk down this corridor,
as the path grows smaller,
be my scholar.
Guide me towards trading my pride
for going along with the ride.
As I'm knocked down,
I let go of my crown.
I'm no longer queen of this place,
I've traded silk and lace,
for a new way to feel,
press down on the seal.
I have changed,
no longer caged,
by pride and pain.
morning sun makes me cry
i punish myself for making her go
i guess i was too anxious and too frigidly afraid all at once
i guess i watched too much of a certain thing on tv and read too many thematic books
afternoon sun makes me sweat
i punish myself for scaring her off
i wish i was way more patient with our connection and our bonding
i wish i was way less impatient with my fingers, my tongue, and Ole Jimmy Wayne Brown
fully risen moon makes me an incapable insomniac
i punish myself for causing her to label me as poison
i pray that one day she our paths will cross again
i pray that one day a second chance will be the special 'See' answer
next day sunrise alarm clock makes me look like a funky fool once again
Zionic secret society
Mystical secrets
lost city of Atlantis
Aliens embarking
What is to become of us?
DaVinci code and psychics
Rembrandt and Lincoln
Free Masons and lodges
Raven terrorizes Poe
I am humbled
high
above
the city
arms open wide
Christ the Redeemer
symbol of peace
causes hearts
to bow
low
07.06.20
'Ninette Poetry Contest ': sponsor, Emile Pinet
'Try a New Style - Something You Have Never or
Hardly ever tried' sponsor -Caren Krutsinger
amidst the dunes of restless seas
my arms outstretch in sorrowed pleas
beneath the lash of winds i fall
atop the grains of sands i crawl
April 25, 2020
Rithimus Divisa 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gregory Barden
From my poem written 12/07/2019
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/atop_these_grains_of_sand_1206046
Sitting in my church this morning
Feeling just so lost today
Way in the back with my head down
I started to weep and pray
I said I'm just not worthy enough to be here
After all you've done for me
But this is the only place I feel at peace
Where I feel like I am free
Just let me be in your presence for this hour
Let your spirit fill my troubled heart
I promise I will sit quietly
Until your message you impart
I never came here to please the pastor
Just so I was noticed in the pew
I'm only here because I feel so lost
I just want to be close to you
And then I felt the cleansing flood
Wash over my tattered soul
He touched me though I wasn't worthy
He touched me and made me whole.
seasons changed, the years have moved too fast
my childhood laughter has long gone silent in the past
a simple man, a simple plan, stay alive to see my children grow
a fear of losing, a fear of weakness, I’ve seen my rhythm start to slow
in the world of uncertain times, they’ve found a memory they must save
forces of some plans unknown, are in the stream of roads they brave
yet my children cling to something they have learned
of this a gathered knowledge they have yearned
to stand on solid ground when all around the earth is shaken
by those who create terror, but of my children’s courage they awaken
time of thoughts, time of posture, seems to be a losing battle
to take up arms against the fire, that would burn all in a battle
opened eyes who yet still see the future being uncertain,
are only seeing the smoldering ashes through a thin and fading curtain
as the good prevail, the books will write the story
of all who stood their ground and in the end won with humbled glory
mountains and valleys, cold streams and tall trees,
corn fields and farm lands, black crows and young bees,
green grass and sun flowers, black bears and ground hogs,
chickens and ducklings, young cats and old dogs,
all of them sharing, this land of plenty, along with the whole human race,
we’re changing the earth, for better we say, but what we are doing, is changing it’s face,
condos are rising, factories spreading, water’s polluted,
progress we’re saying, but in the end, we’re all deluded,
microwave ovens, gas guzzling cars, cellular phones,
making life easier, even the killing, is now done with drones,
to think mother nature, will stand by and see,
her face being changed, to such a degree,
the future will see, the condos have crumbled, sky scrapers tumbled,
we’ll then realize, to mother nature, we’ll all be humbled.
Humbling are the blessings..
that we find.
Life is bittersweet..
When they combine.
Beauty's all around us.
Just take a look around.
Soon your blessings..
will be found.
If we live in the moment.
If we do our best.
Our conscious is clear.
When we lay to rest.
Inside our souls..
if we are guided by love.
We'll sail up to heaven..
To meet our Lord above.
Happiness is made..
by our spirits will.
Growth takes place..
Soul will instill..
Kindness ..compassion.
It doesn't take much.
It's somebody's heart..
that you will touch.
Be wise and be faithful..
always take the high road.
You'll reap the rewards..
To be bestowed.
Friendship, Love & Knowledge..
is all that we'll take there.
Be a good person..
show that you care.
You miss the words and numbers.
The gameplan gets ascention. The
podium was high.
And so was your head.
Swallowed by the winds
unable to reach the end of journey.
Were you not thinking ?
Was it a treason to withdraw –
from the frills ? In love scare
there were other things to do,
in the storm,
like collecting the thorns.
You step outside the dark and
feel the limbs of light,
altering the script to become
a miracle.
Satish Verma
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