Opted Poems

Ways of Providence

The young are prone to blithely say, “Time’s on my side,”
but youth’s no promise one will long on Earth abide.

“He died too soon,” we say beside a young one’s grave
and ponder why God opted not his life to save.

Those who have not achieved all they desire in life
sometimes blame others~~even God~~for pain and strife.

Let’s flip the coin. Are we convinced that we deserve
all blessings we receive? Do we have that much nerve?

God’s ways are not our ways; we cannot think like Him,*
but we must trust he doesn’t merely act on whim.
          (*Isaiah 55:8)

His Word assures He loves us; this, we must believe
and have deep faith He’ll comfort us each time we grieve.

When we depart this shell of clay, we’ll clearly see
what we now view as through a glass dark as can be.”
       (I Corin. 13:2, the Apostle Paul)

K L M N O P

Keep out of the kale and the captain’s keg
Lazy light foot like you could lose your leg
Miserable moments mastered by minion Meg
Never needless, yet not necessary without a doubt
Olive Orangutan outrageously opted out
Providing persnickety persimmons a playful pout

Cinquain

I might prefer time to alter my line,
Ends up replacing ofences against good takes.
That aims perfection to surplus my present,
Merrily got up as a cause to those opted processes,
And now I am what I am with no more retakes.

Sprinter miles apart

Life's long ride 
To which,
I opted for smaller tides
That comes and goes
Like latecomers, summer night

Seeing myself passing over the potion
Summer changes into winter
And now I am with the ocean
With no direction, just a sprinter

Problem Statement, cook county, sheriff in style !

Problem Statement, cook county, sheriff in style !

My father’s daughter was engaged to my father’s sister’s son. 

My father’s mother opted out to have a side to join the festive eve. 

She (narrator) stopped as she (interpreter) intervened.

O yeah! Your tortilla and your taco and your feeling!!!!!
Self reliance and legacy of family tradition.

Whom to say? To usher a may?


My father’s niece was engaged to my father’s nephew. 

My father’s mother opted out (to die before) to join the festive eve.

You Opted

You chose
To run, bike,
Swim, lift, work, wire—
Anything to avoid being with me.

You set me aside like tea or beer,
Once beloved, now
Not even a flicker in your conscience.

The birth of our daughter,
When you feared I might
Bleed out—
Forgotten, a ghost of a memory.

Like your dead father: “Goodbye, Dad,” and then
Stored
Away,
As if you could retrieve him whenever you wished.

But you don’t wish.

You move forward, onward, never looking back.
You march,
No reflection.

Your life,
Not mine, worth living.

Silence sets soul free

Upon this earth realm we have opted to dwell,
encased in a decaying form doomed to die
but myriad desires cast on us a spell,
making us believe as true, what is a lie,
being the sole reason why our heart does sigh,
although within this lucid dream, we are free,
if we but unshackle heart from our mind tree.

Old don for a new dawn

In public tanTrump Don has won
As people opted for new dawn,
Voted less a winner,
More against old banner,
Don Quixote has returned as don.
_____________________ 
Happenings |04.11.2024|USA, political

The Homeless

The Homeless
Miracle Man
10/5/2024

Many years the sidewalk was their only bed.
Most never opted for anything better instead
Their pillow a stone,
Most died all alone,
Today in a grave with no stone at their head. 

That Thou Art

What would it be like to transcend space-time,
where we’re both the one and also the two,
meaning the all that is, feeling each chime,
as heartbeats in all forms does so renew
and yet one with oneness, is pure like dew?
This question cannot be answered by mind,
which works on fragmented concepts that bind
but if we shift, making silence our muse,
we transform as God’s breath, loving and kind,
becoming the flame, heart opted to choose.

The flight of a song

I was given two options
to follow two different armrests, outstretched.
One was a famous twist in ecstasy
Except anything in driver seat.
The other was a befuddled theatrical pedagogy
Whence the aviation was having a heart attack!
I looked inwardly and opted the third one
After all this is a mere gift!
"Runway zero eight!" 
You simply recite through the gothic stories
and pray for a painless appendix.
A better idea would be to refer
not "The Holiday Inn" but "Ben-Hur" 
God proposed the outlier there, in pain
If not in vain!
8:45 AM
9-4-2024

Breakfast at Shoreham

I drank in the mist
Of early morning dew,
Hours crawled like minutes
Grey sky once so blue.
Woke up this morn
Ready for life’s thrill,
Began with hot coffee
An every day’s drill.

For breakfast went we
To George’s Stakehouse Inn,
Libby, sister, husband and me
Ignoring choice of fish at the Finn.
Opted for a typical English plate
Warm at Stonhouse fireside,
Though it was past eight
Raindrops whispered a ride.
Saw the white cliffs of Sussex
Along the South Downs,
Like Vera Lynn’s lyrics
That spoke of old town.

Left for joys of Brighton’s pier
Crowds of heads at every pub,
Drinking wine and hops for great cheer
Till evening sun dips to dine and sup.

Zen mode

pain and joy
come to body
which we are not
yet since we are here 
we feel all the vibrations
as they arise and subside
which is what soul opted for
when we signed up for earth life
to imbibe wisdom by touch
in harsh winds of duality  
and with this knowing
we rest in quietude 
recognising life
as a dream

Fishers Of Men

Father, who entrusted me with his mission of salvation
Will provide me with labourers to realize this goal.
Pondering, he roamed around in disciple formation.
They will, like fish, gather to the kingdom of God, each soul.

Waves of humans from every walk of life were collected.
The new teacher, as though a magnet, attracted everyone.
His smile, like full-moon elegance, seemed secret-reflected.
The author of all, he's not an authoritarian

The breeze blew gently in his presence. Buds bloomed. Trees stood still.
Schools of fish swam onto the sea surface to get a glimpse.
Children, as though seeing a miracle, flocked, filled with thrill.
Poets, playwrights, and storytellers composed suspense-filled scripts.

Odd persona opted as though it's a play of honour, 
Did they realize it was a calling from the Father?

Zen mode

observing tension build up
within mind-body apparatus
the root cause being attachment
to a desired outcome sought by ego
which when belied causes concern
so recognising thus our delusion
we pause the cause of thought 
laying ego cravings to rest

had we not opted to enter trance
heart contractions would not arise
and we’d have been denied immersion 
in the labyrinths of dungeons of darkness 
so we celebrate moments of anguish
yet take care to remain mindful
to rebound to reality swiftly

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