Long Best efforts Poems
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Dreamtime realms are the laboratory of the wise.
This research compound, where DNA was discovered,
produces our collective future.
A wise one learns at the college of dreams and
progresses down the highway of success.
The fool claims that they’re only dreams;
ramblings of the imagination.
The earth plane is a haven for fools;
a wise man’s nightmare, where logic and
reason are locked away from daily access.
Dreamscapes warn of the fool’s carelessness.
Planes fly themselves, cars drive themselves,
robots care for the old and infirm there.
The fool mis-interprets everything.
The wise man sees the dreamscapes message…
Planes crash, cars burst into flame and
robots crush the bones of the elderly and
thrash the infirm.
A fool never realizes that fallible humans,
will never build perfectly flawless machines.
Fools never remember the “Titanic”; they just keep on rebuilding it again and again.
When will the fool decide to learn?
The wise warn, but are rarely able to help the fool;
thus, the world stays in chaos.
Dreamtime labs are a human safety mechanism.
It’s too bad that most people ignore their dreams and
leave the wise, despite their best efforts, to suffer at the whims of the fools.
Note: "Arete": Pronounced [ ahr-i-tey ]
Sometimes our best efforts go unnoticed
by everyone but ourselves.
We strive mightily to succeed and accomplish
something we think is important
and of value to others
that ultimately ends up in the proverbial wastelands
of unseen and unrecognized accomplishments.
Poets know this all too well
as we put in endless hours
of deep thought and effort
to mold a few letters and words together into
something never seen, heard, or experienced by another
to lift one's heart and soul up off the ground
or change or challenge a reader's perspective
on any number of the innumerable mysteries
and enigmas of life profound.
In sum, we strive to shed new light on those around.
Too often, however, our efforts fall far short
of those whose eyes we hope to entertain
and our endeavors appear to be all in vain.
But are they? While we may be writing
for the response and recognition of others,
above all, we should be writing for ourselves,
because at the end of the day, good writing
is an arduous, lonely and persnickety pursuit
towards happiness, self-satisfaction and improving
our own mental well-being and state of mind.
Writing builds character and helps us shine.
The ancient Greeks called it "Arete," meaning excellence,
or the extreme commitment to attain.
It's nothing new to poets or writers of any kind
or any other person who's dedicated
to being, doing and/or becoming the best
that they can possibly be
at whatever it is they're striving to achieve.
It's just a little something we would all do well
to remind ourselves from time to time.
When the recognition doesn't arrive
to fill our hearts and heads with pride
or obstacles stand in our way,
remember writing means more than what we say.
And blessed are they who think
in terms of Arete`.
Shadow Lights
Have you ever noticed?
When you sit your hands upon the keys.
If you close your eyes,
just right...
not too tight, no peeking, but still
they move all on their own.
They hear things we have yet to listen too.
They know things we seldom ponder on.
Repeated strikes and blows,
that make rainbows.
I believe that you will see,
if you try,
that there is nothing to fear,
except the outcome of your
best efforts.
Let go.
Be still.
Let Him...
Now the screen I watch,
thankful not to be blind.
Still the keys dance sublime.
Not by me, or you but Him...
or the angels he sends to lightly play,
across the black and white symbols,
to create a rhythm I never knew,
I was listening too,
until I heard it
with deaf ears.
My spirits lifts with the dawn,
I cry on, not in pain, but in glee.
Free to be His,
and do what is pleasing
to Him.
The Relevance of Last Winter
David J Walker
The acrid odor of a
Butane fueled
space heater
Seemed better
than freezing
In the sub-frigid air
of a February
prairie
winters
day
We set fire
To dried mesquit limbs
Cleared from
an adjacent pasture
last summer
It seemed better
than freezing
In the March wind
Bending its way
Into a town of little interest
By 4 pm
The light was failing
ice was forming
On the tractors casings
Ours
Were the only lives
Exposed
To the
Mercies of the miseries
Of a winter storm
The small farmhouse
Stood alone
The warm refuge
At the end of a field
Of long fallow rows
Awaiting
The next seasons
Best efforts
Adorn yourself with vicarious, honest, enjoyable living.
Be someone else if you must, but not every day, and not all the time.
For your soul is waiting to treat yourself, delight yourself.
Enjoy a silken impetus, and a truly joyful exult.
Be whoever you want to be, and it does not necessarily have to always be you.
Safeguard yourself from your enemy’s jealous mockery.
Do not give credence to the angry looks or irritated smirks.
Save yourself by not caring, in any kind of way.
Lean rather toward your well-earned esteem, daily fulfilment and
The possibility of earning wealth and opulence through your own best efforts, and joys.
An unavoidable chasm with the naysayers might be exactly what your
Waiting expectant soul needs to never look back and enjoy every solid ounce of
The rest of your life.
Save yourself.
Be you, but in your
Own way.
Live big!
Written 8-21-18 Contest: 8 Word Challenge 8
Sponsor: John Hamilton
the ocean is unfamiliar
i see the aging in the seaweed's expressionism
oh how i love getting reacquainted with an old favorite
change is inevitable despite my imagination's best efforts
the ocean is unfamiliar
i went broke and left broken mirror glass in different spots in the sand
oh how i love catching up with an old loyal friend
change is inevitable despite my self constructed planet's best efforts
the ocean is unfamiliar
i became a victim once again of my own poor decisions and unfortunate pickiness
oh how i love the PeaceFull Feel of Charlie's Unconditional Acceptance and Love
change is forever inevitable despite my dusty wishes spring filled hope's best efforts
ACROSTIC ODE TO SINGAPORE
Urge strikes a feel and flow of obvious appeal,
See a tiny red-dot enroute to places,
Embracing the path of economic will.
Bestow on this land of many dear faces
Use of timely ideas and productive strides,
Yield to our people fond smiles and fine graces.
See this island nation in Asiatic tides,
Immersed with multi-racial community,
Now living the modern age with bustling pride.
Glimpse beyond the struggles of democracy,
Align the prospects of resolute progress:
Pursuit of excellence and competency.
Opting to serve the world via business express,
Reaching outwards and upwards through ample trade,
Exploring better ways and means to progress.
Join our contemporary lifestyle parade:
Open minds that make ordinary things great,
Yes we embark on a quest to keep our grades.
Now and here we gather our wits to greet fate,
Open our hearts to make lifelong learning fit,
Willing to work our way to wealthy estates.
Give all we got to spur progress more discrete,
Employ our best efforts to niche steady bits,
Trust in the truth to live our national grit.
Make what you will of our solemn choice of wit:
Echo our song beyond scenarios that pit.
(Notes: This work is an Ode written in Terza Rima. Each line has eleven syllables throughout for the tercet verses (3-line per verse) and for the final couplet of 2-line verse. I have also added a new part into this Ode: an Acrostic element. This is just an idea to make the composition more interesting and offer another perspective to the reader. This acrostic fit is definitely more cumbersome but well worth the wordplay and effort. Tell me what you think if you have a comment to make. Thanks.)
-------------------------------------------------
Leon Enriquez
06 Mar 2014
Singapore
written February 8, 2015
I can still feel her heartbeat
In these fleeting fingertips
I know she's there
Despite my best efforts to see her
I can feel her presence
Every time that candle flickers
Beside my bedroom door
But it may just be creaking of the floor
That's got me hopeful
For what our reunion has in store
So what's the story, morning glory
Do you know you keep me going
Although you no longer grace this earth
I can feel your arms around me
You make me feel like I am worth
All the money on this earth
But sometimes I wonder
If I should keep my heart beating
Sometimes it's as if my life
Has no meaning, anymore
You're warming arms around me
Cool off as the years go by
Without a voice to return
My subtle whispers of I love you
Through the darkest nights
I wait to hear back soon
So what's the story, morning glory
Do you know keep me going
Although you no longer grace this earth
I can feel your arms around me
You make me feel like I am worth
All the money on this earth
So now you know my story, morning glory
You kept me going
Despite my fleeting heart
And those empty arms around me
I could still feel you
But now I can't help but wonder
How much longer
I can keep on trudging through
Without the only thing that's true
The feeling of my warming arms around you
Frustration a feeling that's like friction,
Such a feeling of constricting conviction,
There is no way of avoiding its restriction,
This results in you feeling such damnation,
Frustration, the emotion completely domineers,
Suddenly angry tears begin to appear,
Motivation seems to disappear,
Sometimes it's not clear why it is here,
Frustration, you become annoyed, at how its so annoyingly annoying,
The anger builds tears flowing, red face glowing,
You try your best avoiding spoiling being disappointing,
You battle yourself twoing and frowing bullying mentally torturing,
Frustration, your unable to progress unable to grasp at success,
Your emotions become suppressed because you are so depressed,
Your unable to express emotion, you feel utterly useless,
The definition of frustration is frustrating,
Talks of annoyance defeat sounds exasperating,
Prevention of fulfilling some what thwarting,
Frustration a negative feeling that needs avoiding,
But despite my best efforts it just keeps reoccurring.
'Tis off to the races now that homeschooling has ended.
One half earns for their subsistency,
other half learns about delinquency.
Be they friends and their best efforts were suspended.
Tale spring muses as the anticipant's
appraised specifies traditional hopes
load stages standard addictive transplants
secured cognitive lodestar prolonged copes.
Missteps venture the wide-eyed sneeze, and runny nose
a caption reads, "This be the Time.", gone are
the reporting authors, counting those
to acknowledge them, minus their star.
Bloom's wilt and hues fade know not the hour caused,
advents trending acquisitions neglect closure
but fail to end the brotherhood of friends exposure.
halls went silent the schoolyard empty, turned men paused.