Long Likings Poems
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[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
Turbulant radient red sky with sheet swirl mashed potato
cloud mush peered lazily through a curious brown
haze of dirty armpit fizz, enlisted somewhere
bewteen a prebeginning solar start dot deposit burst peak
and a futuristic nuclear waste singulsr hand mitten
all in lieu of a sadeyed slowburn glowing tuxedo-still
and looking on with rolled up flannel sleeve gross
passivity. I slurped around the grand gravel
entrance up and down brown round and rocky
pinging and jumping. Wide spaces
grappling with the refuse laden humo motif of
endeless manwomanchildpet pickings. I round the teetering
trough trench like curves unwitnessed to the sight beholding
ever present but none as gigted. Poor mouth
super excrement excuses like duct tape type at the end
of its reality roll---never enough for the final fix.
I watched as multitruck things silently
dispatchingly dispersed and unloaded their
grusome garbage waves on good mother earth.
Battles can leave muscles working as man and time spitspent
slowcuspocus appendages working at top mph
pushing shoving shoveling piling before the light
pace calls it another disgusting dillday.
without the slighest the remorse--my stomach began
to wrenchabit and my eyewells passed be free
me. The gulls some truck lenght away were
spuriously sifting smilingly through the
human wreckings in a last light meal
remedial refrain--as intense as
the dumpers became the dumpees. I angered as
the populace as myself delivered my putrid parlay
and proceded to the mass exit as if it were
OK. The quality of messy mercy stops at the buck. I need not squander the dull likings of my kind
of indifferenleunce on the hapless mis constraints of
a well informed psuedo citizenery. I hope the land rebels
someday and eats us all by the very
seeds we so sow. Garbage is as garbage does
but it's the tidy attitude of human complacency that
wipes my ass so clean---look to the trash cans for---hope.
You once asked about the intensity of my love for you..
I didn't have anything concrete to say, or something new..
But it has been just two days since we haven't talked..
And miles of emotional distance I've already walked..
I really wanted to discover what you are to me..
So I kept on walking on the street of thoughts, although lonely..
And gradually all things fell into shape..
And I met with the reality which couldn't be escaped..
I found that it was your eyes through which I wanted to see the world..
Around your smile, my happiness swirled..
Your voice was the music for which my ears cried..
It was your heart where I wanted to actually reside..
Your arms would have decided the size of my world..
They were your shoulders on which I wanted my dreams to be unfurled...
They were your fingers in which I wanted my fingers to intertwine..
You were the glitter which would have made me shine..
I wanted your hands to remove those hair strands from my face..
I wanted your personality to fill me with grace..
I wanted your hugs to be my sole comfort..
It would have been your hanky which cleaned my face's dirt..
I wanted your aggression to save me from the cruel world..
Around your likings, my choices would have twirled..
Your favorite colored dresses would have filled my showcase..
They were your hands which I wanted to cup around my face..
It was your lap which would have been my headrest..
Your appreciation could only bring out my best..
They were your ears in which all my secrets would get revealed..
It was your love which would have been my protective shield..
This is what I discovered during the long walk..
But such a poor timing, that I now don't have you to talk..
I wish you could read this and just signify..
Did you get the reason why I was always the first one to say a "Hi"?
Sometimes I feel I don’t belong to this society;
Since long people guided to be happy must belong
to a society; it’s true desire to be a part of something
bigger is our innate need, they say we’re social animals.
Like others, I couldn’t consider myself as a part of them;
Failed to adopt their likings, tastes, goals, aspirations;
I know my so called friends group call me a ‘Misfit’.
Their all time chasing for fame, so called success
is meaningless to me; it’s so disappointing.
Makes me to think what I’m doing with them;
Probably their calling me as misfit is correct.
My love, passion for simple way of life, they tease;
It’s painful, spent sleepless nights on their criticisms.
Took time but developed courage to ignore what they think.
What can I do now I’m always sensitive to
emotions of other people; for my friends it’s waste of time.
but watching the peoples’ anguish I feel upset, I get involved
to do whatever possible to do in my own way.
Don’t know if there’s something wrong with me
Questioned my own steps and decided ignore their criticisms;
rather concentrate on my passion to fulfil my purpose.
How it matters who likes, hope my sincere work will be of some help.
What's important, to do what I love to do, gives immense happiness.
I am confident HE is watching me always for trying to do
my best and of course with no expectation from anyone.
~X~X~X~
Quote:: “The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.” ~ Socrates.
Honeydew on the grass sparkles with life as the Sun comes up shining.
Way up yonder the Horizon’s preparing for its glorious arising.
Purple, blue and gray radiantly come together and all stand out alone,
Way up under this great big earthly dome.
Bird’s shadows fly at distances, yet each distinct by their flocks belted,
And each disappears away in colorful misty skies where all of them roam!
Beauty in foresight is clearly seen on this perfect unthought-of day,
Even to my own likings of a surprising.
Too compelling just knowing that all days are counted by,
Each exact group already individualized by being numbered!
Foliage secretes from its many branches of trees per several hundreds.
All with there own story to make known to the unknown.
Consistently re-budding as season’s change to each one that is now arising.
All seeming to prepare for that God-awful battle called Armageddon.
Years pass on and still the Sun comes onto the horizon.
Life’s at a standstill, yet, steadily ticking with the hands of time to carry on.
Nothing can be done to stop the cycle of our Earth’s creation.
For every beginning there is and ending as it is to see
Dawning is “The Sun on the Horizon”!
Be thankful that you have this very day,
For the Sun is rising upon the horizon,
What a wonderful liaison!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2001
MY LIKINGS
I love to read stories, fairy tales,
also rhymes, poems and fables.
I love songs to listen and sing,
drum to beat and bells to ring.
Charcoal pencils I always fetch
As I love to draw and sketch.
With pastel and colours I venture
to paint beautiful pictures.
Swimming, Skipping and Cycling
are really my great likings.
White playing with my close friends
My vigour never to stop or end.
My delight flows to dance and prance
Always eager : Not to miss chance.
I love paper cutting to make patterns
of boat, bird, plane, flower, lampshade, lantern.
Rapid Reading -recitation
also attracts my attention.
When Mom hugs me tight and kiss,
That’s my great pleasure, best bliss.
03\06\23
Kids Creativity and Learning
Contest by Eve Roper
it was not a long time ago story when we have met
it was not a long time ago when we have shared our stories
we have never thought of loosing our dignities when we opened up and chat..
time has managed to met our two worlds like it bries..
we cherished our memories down the lane..
we laughed at our likings and made it more insane
we thought of getin ourself mould to our loved songs of i thnk coldplay..
time has also make it melodious as like somone will be in pain..
we also givin each other reality checks to make image clear..
we have been into touch with each other just like it was meant..
suddenly the fog has arrived like in any other story and all disappear..
time has changed d situation but its you who has tapd it to decant..
after a while u came up with ur funny lies and mocked around..
its funny to saw u like that and makin me fool again like its sound..
there is no hope in me trustin you blindly again..
dts how i can teach you the lesson of love n now to refrain...
dere were times whn i feel like havin u back again..
my heart was weak dts why it was calin ur name..
since when i have told u to move on but d pain remain..
time has nevr been same until it was meant to be framed...
love pari
if u likd d poem or if didnt ...just put ur input wid cmnts....i wud love to observe dt..
This poem of Carolyn touched my heart deeply. Going through this poem
I recollected my intimate friend whose sudden demise had wiped out half of colors of my life. One who is lucky to have a True Friend, knows well how much painful is the loss. Emotions and Feelings of Carolyn always moved me.
We were tied in a tender bond of mutual likings.
I expect, P.S. will choose three poems of Carolyn to be included in coming Anthology.
WHY I LOVED C.D’s Poem ‘Better Days’
The sun will break again for you, my friend
From out of darkness into light, you’ll tread
Your grief, it will subside and may soon end
And I’ll be with you on the road ahead
Recovery’s road goes both up and down
These months without your mate have left you frail
But cast away the tears; you will not drown
It’s time that you remove your mourning veil
Look up to see the friends who stand by you
We know your loss, but struggle to express
And still, we’re standing by till you pull through
So when grief calls, don’t fret or acquiesce
You will not have to make this trip alone
A new start waits till past this grief you’ve grown
08/27/21
First Place
Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry
Contest by Andrea Dietrich
a seed
sacrifices itself existence
to sprout a tree
silently
a womb
conceives an embryo
silently
it's a process of creation
but, if you cut the tree
if you kill the people
it will make noise
it's a process of destruction
-(said by the wise)
o dear Junoon
love is very painful
where hate is apparently beautiful
I know
you love the entire creations
if you want to enjoy your love
tears will make an ocean;
cause some of the creations allow you
where some of them disallow you;
but you necessitate endurance all
tolerate their likings, disliking, collaring out
cause your love for the equivalent
o dear Junoon
annihilate your biased intelligence,
eradicate your prejudiced belief,
don't make the hate an apron for your eternal soul,
make your extermination the virtuous path of love
know it that-
your love is your enlightening thought
where your love will be other's God,
your love is your death
where your love will be others life,
your love is your insight
where your love will others heavenly path
yes, o dear Junoon
annihilate yourself in pure love
to make the enlightened, united path
for the next coming fellow the bright
-July 05,2019 Chattogram
She was sixteen and dressed to the likings of fashion
a beautiful loose top was her choice of today's passion
as she mounted the bus she got stares from the guys
and teasing looks, but none of them ever met her eyes
yapping away in Italian thinking she looked a bit french
they thought her cute, and some thought her a wench
"poor girl" they said, "went down town, got pregnant"
"and now she wears that top to hide the baby tenant "
they laughed as they poked each other and guffawed
gesturing like little ruffians and talking way too loud
but to their surprise she turned to them and smiled,
she was an Italian hot blooded girl, to put it mild...
when she spoke in Italian they gaped and shut up
"cretino, stupido, imbecile" well I guess its my stop !
guess your having fun at my expense, hey boys
then she flirtatiously smiled, and left with poise
they sat there dumfounded with faces slightly pinked
as she stepped off the bus she turned, then winked.
July 24, 2021
ps this is a true story by the way, slightly changed but true
never assume someone doesn't understand a language ..