Tower of greatness
Mother of the greatest
You're a crown that creates
The mightiest and the greats
Your rule across seas
With justness and fairness
You make peace on the valleys
And calmness on the bays
You're a womb that conceives
The stars and their radiance
Deep in your heart there lives
A jewel full of brilliance
Your bossom has cultured
The realm of liberty
Your wisdom has nurtured
The grains of prosperity
So fortify your mighty reign
For yours is the sway of heaven
Let the greatness of your vein
Bring the hope for your children
Posted September 8, 2022 PST, but written around February 2021 in the height of the pandemic.
Dedicated to Queen Elizabeth II and the United Kingdom
LET ME NEVER stoop to disavowing the truth
Neither “looking lovingly” askance at a hurtful lie
NOR OF PEOPLE “sleeping soundly” from an anesthesia
Called purposefully abetting, forgetting to evade the shiv
Of justice wielded with forthright insight, you see,
For without “judicial justness” it is clear our nation
Cannot long endure, much less, I must confess, heal
And continue to be the nation we laud as our country.
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
Written September 6, 2022
Submitted to “The A’s Have It” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
[End Word: HEAVENLY
Alphabetical Order: LET ME NEVER and NOR OF PEOPLE
Alliteration: “looking lovingly,” sleeping soundly,” and “judicial justness”
Internal Rhymes: abetting/forgetting; forthright/insight; and less and confess.]
The doubter's eye yelled, "show me, god."
Go for stroll in quiet cloud laud.
Look where he might track down calmness.
Who can see black bug fold their nod?
Who sees our veins in the darkness.
And wowed the bloodstream in process,
And views embryo's feed in the womb,
Though hears and sees what is voiceless,
Love is clearly starting to bloom.
And knows what he claims in the gloom,
On the vast seas, warm ships of chance,
Wind, blowing past your flower's tomb.
Rising one's rate of mindfulness.
Looking backward to your justness.
We've been imbued with a pulse feast.
Bringing the soul's grace to brightness
Bliss, wholeness In a calm exist.
Keep god's still voice in the spirit.
Grace strike when our ego is shorn.
Praise, the soul's promise, mends the beast.
Rubaiyat Form, HMS check
Written: January 22, 2022
Show Me God Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Flying dove-like in the midst of a sea of blueness
Bringing a warm sensory of quiet and peacefulness
A delicate quill floats and moves with the mild breeze
Each butterfly represents a profound gift of gentle ease.
Whispering Wings, indigenous force's benefactress
Tugging the chords despite purveying mercifulness
Meandering in the pristine wilderness same as wildebeest
It suspires into our buoyant spirits, looks, and sparest.
Gravitational radiation, mindfulness adjustments
Scarcely an effectiveness shrinkage upright abutments
Will achieve divine reality in everlasting eternity
Heart at God glimpses from the chasm of leniency.
Balmy justness heaves, and the spirit reawakens
The scarcity of crispness was withdrawn slice at once
Ecstasy has glowed, and the epitome run sway
Emptiness is hidden when the shapes shrink away.
Written: January 12, 2022
for the 'Whispering Wings' Poetry Contest or Chantelle Anne Cooke.
Go do be to the dozens of them stars,
I say to the reactionary planet doing deeds for the floral arts,
when I went to the south they wanted most of my compartments and very few of the darts-
I said to the east as we aren't assuming we have done are parts,
if I were truly a lonely example I'd have spent all of the war in languish for my start-
to be a fitzy you must seek out the snake in the grass,
to be a giant eclipse one must muster every single table wear, and pick them up at the door.
When the time come's I am going to leave this place the way I saw it,
and if I am ever a creature to be discovered,
I will not allow un~justness and resentment for a far-
be the case to jump over at yar.
As if
It is a part of life
To pull legs
And kill the fame
Earned by hard perseverance
This is a jungle of the race of man
Might is right is more right
Than the might of intellect
Attack the weak
Exploit the poor
Like sharks swallow in the little, small and tiny
In the ocean of life
Honesty is a burden
Integrity is a curse
In the market of justness
Value has lost its luster
Here people stripe
To be a perfect liar or hypocrite
KNOCK KNOCK!!
Who's there?
It's Just Us...
Just Us, seeking justice,
There's been a miscarriage,
and we've decided
to judge this.
And, the system?
Well, we're not sure
that we can trust Sys.
KNOCK KNOCK!!
Who's there?
Just Us, still waiting
on the wheels of JUSTICE!
Just Us,
seeking justness,
Just Us,
being blocked
by political MESS,
that was left
in the political bed,
(after your political.. uhhh..NESS)
At the risk of being crude,
it looks like everyones being screwed,
like everyones in a mood,
like everyone has a tude.
And, we can't help
but wonder,
will it EVER REALLY
MATTER to you?
When you still have
YOUR sons and daughters,
when they can walk
down the street
and not fear a slaughter,
when they can
turn on the tap,
and not fear the water,
when they can
turn on the tv,
and not see their mother,
crying over
their dead father!
So, for you,
there's no emergency.
Not your children,
so, there is
NO URGENCY...
Its Just Us.
Its not your people.
Its not your problem,
because,
It's Just Us.
Justice of a beautiful woman is that of a model.
She may just be a Christian whore.
In five inches high hills, she does the Catwalk.
Her asymmetrical body spins in Prada blend.
She smiles and saunters entertainingly.
She is powerful.
She is a mogul.
Justness of a handsome man is that of a beautiful model.
Even in his sexual identity, he does the catwalk.
In Berluti loafers, he strolls as just another beau in a fashion show.
The designers place him tersely.
He becomes a baller and shot caller in the fashion industry.
He is magnate.
He is dynast.
In the entertainment world, life meanders.
The portrait that is viewed is of a fashion model.
She gleams in sketch.
His sheen is imaged.
__________________________/
Penned May 21, 2014!
Is there a beginning
or end to rue on
past,
Since I did sins,
made fools and get
lost,
I go to the police
for ravel and
politeness,
Expel out bribe, or
you may get lost,
A poor naïve man to
aristocratic man,
Rights are not same,
where I get Lost,
Am I missing or
screwed up my
thoughts,
Forget the last
listening of boss
go, get lost,
For deeds thou done
in sake of wealth,
Real beggar, a mere
fakeer finally you
get lost,
No favor for
livelihood or right
to living fakeer,
He born angel, die
fakeer and get lost,
O’er the theme of
these odes and my
passion,
They twaddle no
allocation right
here, go get lost,
I am proud if collar
and called rebel,
And sent to jail and
gallows, rest lost,
For writing beyond
cruelness to trivial
events,
Thou ruins thyself
and get lost,
Exploitation and
victimization
everywhere,
Shahid no place for
justness so get
lost.
Shahid Hussain
Chouhdry
Who doesn’t practice the justness in his self
Never to found the justice on earth
In this world
If you don’t see yourself as man
Or can’t wear shoes of man
How you then
could lead us as man
To the faith of man
Be connected in and out
Be man
Strip this fake wings then peel the skin of angel
Be man
As you sick as u weak
Just as man
What u fear
Is what u bear
Prerogative of man
U approach
The (give and take)
So be fair so be real
Just be man
Absolute and whole-heartedly
Yet savoring each moment
Wholly and free
Yet only satisfying the right
Exclusive and only
Yet embracing the justness
Wholly and entirely
Yet welcoming sweet captivity
Aggregate and gross
Yet clasping the reality
Completely and entirely
Yet encompassing the feeling
Perfectly and utterly
Yet taking joy and ecstasy
Lovingly and beautifully
Yet nothing at all
Many words are written,
four fold over
are spoken.
many will pass
with un-justness
of the illusion of compassion
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