TO BEING INNUMEROUS SHARERS
It has been written,
“The harvest is plentiful…”
But reapers are few:-
Be aware of God’s sown seeds—
And among His great reapers:-
Sown love seeds will sprout;
Germinating Godly fruits:-
Be in their reaping:
Numbered eaters and drinkers—
Well nourished and energized:-
Be ever mindful,
God’s garden is always full;
Many reapers sought:
His spiritual guidance,
Is in need of your sharing:-
*** Trees ***
With or without their leaves,
Call out to me
Especially with a spiritual mystery
That amplifies as I investigate
And admire the vast variety
Of their beauty —
Borne in the costumes
of their diversity —
Their created, sweeping beauty:
From some with innumerous twigs
shooting straight, clean
Lines — arrows up into the blue;
To others with gnarly branches clearly
Dancing out from trunks— curving freely;
From those with tops rounded completely;
To others forming spiked, rotated V’s,
Like wearing upside-down crinolines,
appearing truly
Wind-tossed so loftily
As to hide their heads,
their crowned peaks;
And,not to be forgotten,
All the evergreens, exquisitely
Full and tall, proud to be seen.
They keep travels looking lush
throughout every
Season, giving a symmetry
To what we see —
From bright to deep,
From city to country —
Over the rolling landscape scenes
Surrounding us where each
Tree stands growing high
Humming a kind of reverie
They, perhaps, want us to glean
Someday as friends in a sharing reality.
———————————————————————————————-
(c)2/15/22 sally young eslinger
Thanks be 9
His light shines bright
Comforting my heart and soul
With joy that can excite
It does encourage and console
His love whispers gentle peace
Coloring me in hues of hope
His brilliance will always increase
Assuring me that I can cope
His grace breaths kindness to life
Singing of wonders so amazing
He pours out serenity to end strife
Promising hearts will be praising
His beauty smiles to remind
Pleasure falls from His stars
His love and mercy are so kind
So amazing that it is ours
His light is like the Son
Who holds the keys to love
His way is never outdone
It shines like glory from above
Listen to your heart’s voice
As it reminds you to always believe
In this conviction you have a choice
Listen to His kindness and receive
Everything about God is wonderous
He is a miracle for our heart
His blessings are innumerous
With Him, we’ll always have the good part
Joy, hope and kindness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
January 25, 2022
the fountain mirrors
innumerous stars scattered...
in the twilight sky
Date written: 12/18/2020
It never rains, but it pours....
L
L
U
M
Innumerous pearls of wisdom from the wise;
N
A
T
Infinite sparks of enlightenment!
O
N
Kim’s Acrostic Play Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Date written: 11/17/2020
We lie
We shy,
We fight
We cry,
We vary
We envy,
We love
We sacrify,
Innumerous ways to unite.
A spirit which dignifies
Above all highs,
Lies an INDIAN inside.
A tiny infant seed
The purest form of human breed
Grows, grows & grows
Flows, flows & flows
He grows up to be a naughty child
He is restless, he is wild
With vibrant activity he bustles
Like a thunderstorm he rustles.
Now he becomes the confident
His personality pleasant & eyes so keen
His green hair his refreshing face
Living life at his own pace.
He now turns into a responsible man
Bearing the burden at his own clan
His stern and compassionate look
Innumerous souls he shook.
With aggravating wrinkles he becomes old
His hair now grey & his breath now cold-
His cheeks droop, his eyes sink
And he is over in a blink.
With phases vaning-vaning
With storms fast prevailing
For every happiness did he strife
In a beautiful journey called life.
What a colourful land India is!
Various religions, faiths innumerous
Sometimes Christmas, sometimes Diwali
Sometimes Id, sometimes Baisakhi
Celebrating people
Happy, cheerful and hilarious
Unique celebrations
Grand receptions
Creating love and brotherhood
Zeal and livelihood
Every day seems new
Drenched with
Hearty feeling dew
May Lord! Grant her
Prosperity and endeavor
To mingle the whole humanity
Into one eternity
To colour every heart
With love and sanctity
Her feelings of true love
Be a feature all above
How nice
that our lieders could not to live forever.
You just imagine
what happened our world for
if our immortal comrades
might electing himself
handred and handred times
for presidency.
Only think, dear,
what happenned around,
if our national leader
will create innumerous tandems,
constitutions and rules
for legitimace eternal presidency,
will printed
in the memory of generations and generations,
as a superman and superstar
on the various horses,
on the countless planes and jets
in the countless submarins,
on the countless Siberian rivers
with naked proudly torse
in present time
(and naked soul and batress on future retrospect)
on the spacerships and warships,
on the fares corner of space,
with sombrero on head
and without it
on the wing of Saturn,
as a golden giant stature
in the deserts of Asia,
and so on, so on
your exellency and your majesty,
till the completely crackdown
of heaven.
Thank you, my Lord
for sharp limitation
such maddening plays
and replications
from our rulers.
(from novel “Elinor Rigby”)
Why we have loved England?
Not for the Hide park,
ancient castles
and first class evergreen grasses and pastures,
not for Big Ben, Beatles music and other luxurious,
but for the awkward “puppet theatre”
gamed right on the centre of London,
that horrible and hellish perfomanses
where deformed bodies and figures
of famous politics, majors, prime–ministers
queen members and other up-to-date authorities.
shown as personages of harshly sardonic drama.
That popular and profitable business
in Albion – creating and selling monstrous shapes of theirs excellencies
on the open exhibition,
so sharply contrasted with our own preferences
and quite other way of arts perfomanses
practising by our narrow minded artists
deformed sculptors, wicked painters,
enslaved writers and other arts dicreators
survived by creating innumerous golden statures
of our “purest” top governors, “idyllic” leaders,
“angel like” thefts, cleptocraties
and others political idolatories
from our autoritarian idiosincrazy.
How I love
All of you
The myriads of poppy flowers,
Such amazingly have flourished
For one or two day of May
on green and fresh hills of Birke.
How I want to say
I never forget all of them
And keep in my soul
Your astonishing dancing
On the mornings wind.
Don’t worry, dear beauties,
I diligently pick up and save
Every one of you
In my great artificially created Universe,
Called the Sphere of Shwartwalde of my memory
Where every one of them,
Innumerous girls emerging for instance
And recorded in my soul
From my early spring on Birke,s hill
Till the last…
Will find plenty pastures and places,
For eternal unfaded blossoming
And I will dancing with you
And invite my dear one for such
Unlimited and endless
Mega fest
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