If you look to
the palm of your hand
expecting to see
mansions and roads of
gold, you will be sorely
disappointed – it is a
spiritual truth,
forced to use physical
language
literal interpreters of the
Bible, look more to your
heart, and less to your
head
akin to finding a cure for
love, in a medical journal,
when love only became an
illness, when men started
treating it as a virus or
bacteria – love is never a
weakness nor predator, in fact,
our most faithful protector
and strength!
immersed in a garden of curiosity
the soul allows the heart to bloom
in an emotional flowering sanctuary
where poetry rises on the tongues of poets
trying to capture the essence of each thought
that glows in the dark of the mind
there, seeds are planted
from passionate reflections
burning inside a poet's imagination
seeking to express a sense of understanding
carried onto pages written and shared
by the soul
opening a door to a world of dreams
living quietly within the heart and mind
patiently waiting to be revealed
disguised as interpreters of each word
sparked from the darkness
Interpreters lead a monotonous life
Always sitting behind close doors
Repeating what other people say
Again and again and cautiuosly
Their job isn't just about language translation
They serve as bridge, ships, high-speed trains
And shipping routes that connect the world
Do you think they are great
But I'd like to be one of them.
why do so many humans elect to be tended and herded like sheep?
should path to salvation require forfeiting self-determination?
long have golden trim and precious jewels reigned at altars of worship
why do such all powerful gods require so many interpreters?
does enlightenment entail shedding logic and credibility?
nothing's holy about misogyny, bigotry and genocide
what type of belief system relies on second-hand information?
when did blatant hypocrisy and greed become a religious creed?
why do self-proclaimed, loving benefactors require blind allegiance?
accept these articles of faith which are beyond any criticism
should a fixed object of belief be based upon mere speculation?
doesn't require a divine being to do right by humanity
shall continue to choose to believe in that which consciousness reveals
Looking for words, nicer, softer, fluffy. To drain out emotions and feelings, to pass time. I once pleaded poetry to stay with me, probably did not work. Not sure.
A little face, with beautiful eyes asked me, “Do you know me?”
“ I am a stranger, are you allowed to talk to stranger?”
“ I don’t know.”
“ I don’t know, either.”
Dreams are like showering rain, dreams are like thunders. Dreams with gullibility, dreams with negativity, dreams with total nothingness.
“ Are you allowed to dream? Outside routine work?”
“We are kid landers. We do not need dream interpreters. We can manage our dreams. Can you?”
A little pause. A little pondering.
“Kid landers do cry, don’t they?”
“Why are you asking ?”
“I need a day to fix the understanding. It’s a holiday for understanding. Need to catch tomorrow.”
“ Don’t forget, I will wait then.”
“I will not. Stay.”
All you have to do is listen to his music
Most importantly, listen...
To that haunting, booming velvet voice of his
His signature song is "Unforgettable"
The man himself, is that, and much more
One of the greatest interpreters of song
That America, and the world over, has ever produced
More than just a great singer
He was a truly gifted pianist as well
The first African-American to host a national TV show
One of the very few African-American entertainers
To be embraced by White America in a very segregated America
That glory came with a price
He had to constantly deal with racism
In practically all facets of his life
And he did it all with class and quiet dignity
Despite being a trailblazer
Despite being one of the most successful musicians
Of his era, he remained a humble man
Until his untimely death on February 15th, 1965
At the young age of 45 from lung cancer
Long gone, much too soon, but he continues to live on
Through his music. The late, great Nat King Cole
If I could, I would bring him back, in a heartbeat
Who Would You Bring Back in A Heartbeat Poetry
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 10/05/2018
I am going back to the acient call
Of creativity where I belong;
I am the interpreter of the interpreters,
I am going back to writing that my life
Is build on till eternity.
If you could separate oil from water, you can
Separate me from holy writings.
I am going back to my root to uproot the hidden
Pains of my people, I am for them what book is to teachers.
I stand to defeat injustice in my home town
So that when I die posterity would forget me not.
I shall remain the legend I was made to be while am alive.
And my name written on the stars and the soil and, the moon and the sun.
Poets are only interpreters of the gods;
They change the order of the world through
Redefined words but, my words shall stand
More than that in your humble heart.
I will love you more than words can tell,
I will love you until the snake stand on its legs.
I will love you till the sun put on a smile,
Till the babies at hand learn to dance without fear,
Till the moon turns black and, the rat begins to lay eggs;
Till I have no one to look upto but you,
I will love you more than words can tell.
I will love you like turning the pages of a book,
Like the munching of apple in an innocent mouth,
I will crave for the inevitable to loving you,
Though it might tarry, wait for my love,
Though it might be delay but I urge you to wait
And be satisfied.
Tarry in my heart, Obiajulum;
For the roses in there long for you,
Make a feast of affect in my soul; for
There the butterlies speak of love.
I will pronounce your name, Obim,
I will love you more than words can tell;
For the gods honour the words of a poet.
I've always been an emotional type
But as I've climbed life's ladder
I've become this blubbering old duffer
Eyeballs too close to my bladder
At the drop of a phrase a wee bit sad
Tears start welling up in my soul
Words come out quite indiscernible
Need interpreters to fill in the holes
As a youngster had a definite impression
It was never very manly to spout
Since realized it's just a natural emotion
So now I let it all hang out
It's not that I have control anyway
Keep trying but the teardrops still show
It's a losing battle right from the start
Might as well just go with the flow
So if your screen begins filling up
With buckets of wet salty tears
Back away and try to save yourself
Till again they sound the all clear
© Jack Ellison 2013
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