hot crusted bread speaking truths
labouring backs bent over ovens
cows chewing cherrywood cuds cosy
what could be more knowing
as Nature spreads tranquility tacit ?
____________________________
GOLD PLACEMENT WINNER POEM
Contest : Brevity Poem : Allpoetry August 26
5 words x 5 lines
Prompt: Dispersion
The labouring art of poetry
is in true sense, senseless.
It corrupts judgment, strains credit
and prostitutes' self-esteem.
Damn the unhappy day you start it.
.
.
A song for this:
This Place Hotel (a.k.a. Heartbreak Hotel) by The Jacksons
The wind rose early with the busying dawn;
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet -
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
Instant the command
As decisions
In labouring the fields
A civil war of family's avoiding
Yet the enactments mimic
As bond as surety
In financing burdens
One wishes not to carry
Carriage as stable
Nightingales lost fables
Ferry in twist
Smirking gentle and smits
To the good Friday of Ireland
On a sunny day
Right in my parlour
Laying on the couch
I was going through my phone
Then I paused for a moment
Because of the sound of our wall clock.
The time keeps ticking
Every second
You see how busy nature is
Why sitting without labouring?
Don't choose comfort
At the age of labour
Then you gonna labour
At the age of comfort.
If you don't roll the dice
You won't see the outcome
If you don't pay the price
You won't get it or there
Time waits for nobody
But there's time for everyone
That's putting in the work.
The little girl unfurls her dreams,
Bringing forth the visions within her.
Yet the night cloaks her dreams,
Blurring her vision.
Home was not a place of bliss;
The world felt like a bleeding star,
Gradually losing its brightness with each drop.
Each day brought its share of struggles, lack, and deprivation.
Her father was a peasant farmer,
Labouring to put food on the table.
But what becomes of the skills that prepare a child for tomorrow's demands?
He was later incapacitated,
Yet he held on until he was called to the beyond.
Her mother was a petty trader,
Doing everything she could to help.
Shattered by her husband’s death,
She lived in the shadows,
Where nothing worthwhile could bloom in the meadow.
Still, the little girl unfurls her dreams,
Though she was taken to a strange land.
The visions inside her found light;
Her aspirations reached great heights.
June 30, 2025.
Silence!
A labouring sleep,
Got into trance
Of a great leap!
Away from residence.
The crush to say
As adultage,
Meant to be paid.
Has gained teenage,
Having hands of clay!
Those responsibility
A man gains
Bearing sensibility.
Inside the rain,
Has got his ability!
Soft gentle hands,
Got them to pawn.
Changing the books,
Also about the pen,
Beneathing piercing hook!
Congrats ERA!
Dreams broke,
Desires too!
After the father,
Of great gratitude!
I can feel it,
smell it fragrant on the breeze
watch it in the leaves of broadleaf trees that bend to give me shade
taste it sweet upon my waiting lips
a kiss that comes to me
through every flower and bird and labouring bee,
not in gentle honeyed sips but fresh as new picked mint
every morning clear as day, bright as resting dew at dawn
I hear it whispered through the grass
summer is reborn
Just as a child talks to his dad, talk to the Supreme Lord.
He'll fulfil your needs and show you the heavenly abode.
Praise him. Worship him. Glorify his name as it's holy.
You are a co-heir of his kingdom. Do not feel lowly.
When you lack food at night for your guest, won't you ask your friend?
Though he feels irked first, won't he answer your need at the end?
With an innate pulse, he knows all your needs before you ask.
As flies and bees, yet, labouring for your bread is your task.
Have you ever asked with faith and felt that you'd not heeded?
Though you searched like a seeker, were your efforts impeded?
Did your kith and kin spurn opening the door when you knocked?
From the sun, moon, and stars (nature's conveyors), are you blocked?
Your soul must be light like a feather, all the burdens shed.
You must twine with the Father, like a flower with the thread.
“It is more blessed to give
than to receive…”*
Thus says the Scripture
carnal mind can’t accept
yet spiritual heart regards as truth
in vanquishing selfishness
as well as covetousness-grip
and smiting greediness-enclosure.
Indeed, giving is gaining more…
yes, more joy, powered by sharing
while insuring blessings
of divine abundance faith acquires
along sufficient provisions
midst supplies that meet needs, even wants
toward peaceful contentment
showered by heavenly fulfillment-triumph.
*Acts 20:35 I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.
December 7, 2024
2nd place, "Counterintuitive" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Suzette Richards; judged on 12/10/2024
The other day
I lay for an echo of my heart
The technician scanned my chest and sides
I could hear my heart pant aloud
Oh boy! Was that a chugging train,
a distant wail, water gurgling,
or a rhythmic rub inside an empty tub?
The guy sure was at frantic speed
wailing all the while
Thank the Lord
He has made sure
we never hear
the perturbations
of this friend of ours
labouring inside each of us
all twenty-four hours
Labouring like ants and bees, humans of goodwill gather
Being sloth-filled like sloths, does one have the right to scatter?
With nobleness, each being should acknowledge the other
If one fails to hail the other, will the other bother?
Those who help others in the accomplishment of mission
Those who join their neighbours in their battle against Satan
Such as these would follow you, carrying daily crosses.
Sharing each of your gains, they would also share your losses.
Humans, in their conspiracy to mar others, blasphemed
Forgiving these, towards them, your forgiveness unfastened
As scorpions and snakes venom those who try to save them
Their abhorrence towards those who saved them was at its helm.
Why should one oppose the truth and chock another's graces?
To be saved, should one roam holy places after places?
Murmurs of the dust and bricks of the house of your dad called
Dialogues on the mystic ways of the kingdom enthralled
Food for your psychic power, from cosmic secrets you drew
Winds of words of your wisdom, around the environs, blew.
The earth and the heavens were adorned with rainbow attire.
To spell out the soul of salvation, you were on fire.
Awe filled the deep souls of beings in each interaction.
Weren't you the saviour who salvaged humans from destruction?
Joseph knew this. Emmanuel had a mission assigned.
The wisdom you gained from the heavens, on earth, you applied.
Mary treasured your wizardly ways and meditated.
Seeds of a hope-filled dawn, in human hearts, vegetated.
Learning, teaching, labouring... realism, like rivers, flowed.
Each day of existence, with rays of godly graces, glowed.
"I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive."Acts 20:35 of the King James Bible
Yes, I desire to help
Yielded as care giver
Yon meaningfulness of
Youthful achievements midst
Yawns in struggling to stay
Yoked for reaching-out with
Yahweh’s strength through the years.
April 18, 2024
ANOTHER TIME
It was another time, not at all like now
None thought history was in the making
Hard labouring with sweat on the brow
A full day’s work and limbs were aching
Some were still waiting for that new age
And said it was so, but were only faking
For most, life stuck forever at that stage
Retirement only when an old body failed
Many folk were ready to turn that page
Years later, new work heroes were hailed
Trades Unions formed with collective voice
Striking, like a rebellion, as workers railed
Today, there seems to be another choice
Work, or stone the Chairman’s RollsRoyce
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.