Success is gratitude
For answering people's questions
Including those that were not asked
But implied.
And those unsaid questions, I believe
Are the most important
Artists, who are gifted with answers
On which the life of the perceiver sometimes depends
Receive the success they deserve
Fortunate is the human
Who is blessed with answers
Happy is the artist
Who gives back their gift.
Imperfection becomes,
the beautiful face of impermanence.
One dying flower,
enlightens a whole field of blooms.
Change gives meaning,
to all that is born to flow.
The river does not ask which way?
The rocky riverbank crumbles,
because the water declares
the unreality of all resistance.
In an imperfect world,
perfection is a form of death,
while death is beyond form,
and so, a chip or crack
in a clay pot, acknowledges,
that there is no flaw in itself,
but only in the perceiver
who does not naturally flow
with what is.
had a potential thought...
just a 'minute ago' of
an 'encapsulated idea' ready
for a poetic discussion...
of a concept that a 'perceiver be'...
thee 'time-moment
itself' as a numerical presence...
that is an 'awareness of being'
with respect to the concept of...
a 'count knot' as a basic 'meta
for' some consciousness complexity...
where-in 'one idea' may
consume 'or' reproduce...
itself as an 'other
notion' with an appetite...
for 'change able' ideas
stans sand
At 62 year's young, many truth's in life I've surly found,
yet not by the truths that other's claim to be built on solid ground.
I'm here to ask all who read these words in which I write,
to be enlightened in life's mystery's able to discern wrong from right.
The question I have, can only be answered by the perceiver that be,
yet there is no one in which will ever with another fully agree.
We were each given our own unique way in which is true,
have you perceived the truth for yourself, or is this a problem for you?
With all the different religion's there is in the world today,
no one perceive's the same so which one is the RIGHT TRUE WAY?
a perceived reality amounts to....
about five percent of the whole
and space-time is....
a relative vision
meaning time is....
a space gauge
of pasts recycled as....
echoes of
rythyms and beats of....
years of days gone by
as the perceiver conducts....
by times metronome
and the perception hopefully....
responds somehow familiar
that eyes, ears, and minds know....
no reality-mirage is perfect
no matter the mirror...
that one echoes their music from
stan sand
perceiving both sides
at once is as
of an equality
within...
an eclipse-moons light that appears dark and
hence light and dark seem as knotted
mind concepts
within...
perception limits just as left reflects as right
light humour may appear as darker being that an
equality of opposites is as an infinity mobius strip concept
within...
any single mind at any one moment in time to munch input/output
as with having the minds mirrored molars on both sides of an issue at once
and the perceiver pondering a neutrality as readers might perceive some bias
within...
an equality of opposites that a neutrality sums as a zero
stans sand
now to try to re-formulate; that...
previous hour and a half; which...
ended with a power-off; that...
erased a brew of words; which...
mirrored both context and content; that...
was poetic meaning of a moment; which...
echoed perceived and perceiver as time; that...
had been slowed to an image of symbols; which...
illustrated an embedment of space and time; that...
reflected as a background; which...
cast spells of words from a point; that...
defined a perspective on time as the container; which...
served recipes for any matter; that...
was some form from a concept mechanics; witch...
who worried the power might shut off again; that...
once more all will be lost but the perceiver; witch...
left with nothing but ideas; that...
were a recipe for a context-content objective; witch...
stan sand
The strides wide with determination,
Through ups and downs of the day’s admiration,
A life of bliss and diss with undefined procrastination,
Gone wide and wild with the days’ words of deception,
Of emancipation from defined virtues of misconception.
There is you that walks and seems to like not,
The strides and steps aside, in determination,
The full-on health with skins tendered in motion,
Indescribable beauty that sees not the perfection,
There is you with the origins of declining lot,
Smiling with pride in the thickest of days’ guilt
The unlucky in all; in the redemption of the world,
Undeniably determined but sees not the imperfections.
Happiness is in the undocumented form of emotions,
Purest in the forms bred and nurtured in creations,
The you that perceives to see the good in all,
Is not the you that sees the good in all,
By Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
3rd Sept 2019
Hear my special child’s alphabet features
Eagerly, he mumbles with sheer delight
a-ape; b-bear; c-cat… dear God’s creatures!
D-dove; e-eagle; f-falcon… birds of great flight
g-goat; h-horse; i-impala…all in Noah’s ark
j-jaguar; k-koala; l-lion… oh, what a sight!
m-monkey; n-newt; o-opossum; hey, they don’t bark
p-parrot, q-quail, r-robin; busy in their nests
s-snake; t-turtle; u-unicorn…hiding in the park!
v-viper; w-wallaby: do they hate pests?
x-x-ray fish; y-yellow fin tuna: swimming gaily
z-zebra and zebrafish together in animal fests…
Alphabet "perceiver" he’s become expertly
Reading, sounding, blending letters blissfully!
April 12, 2019
Edited on May 22, 2020
Honorable Mention, "BRIAN'S CHOICE Q,any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/23/2020.
Honorable Mention, "YOUR CHOICE h" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/17/2025.
Are these words
Or just li(n)es,
Forming meaning to host
But bubkis* to most
Do I write what I say
This scribble, transcription
I detect some conviction
But if said and not heard
Another blissful, pragmatic
Exceptional blurb
Once exchanged
To receiver
Once translated
By perceiver
It may lose it's intent
Could ignite, not prevent
But the message is taken
Clear, action, now
And, G-d forbid, if mistaken.
(11/04/03)
*Yiddish for nothing/worthless
Reflections
Reflecting upon – it is a dangerous game for one to play
for it leads to flawed judgements – unreasonable expectations
for expectations are seldom realizes or met by others.
Expectations are difficult to live up to, by others or by ones self.
Images projected, those reflections are often built upon fantasies,
illusions, delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to a reality.
Personal history is just that – personal – and not a measuring stick
by which to quantify, see, judge, to comprehend what is here and now
nor is it the mirror by which to bring forward – into the future.
Judge not but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, it’s past, not the story upon which to create – today.
Today is all we have !, yesterday is gone !, - tomorrow is promised to no one !
B. J. “A” 2
January 12th 2007
Becoming you,
I perceive your face-
in body swap.
*
The stakes were
high, when I missed the moon,
in the desert chase.
*
The soul
was trapped in an earthen pot,
while catching the shadows.
Satish Verma
The foggy snow hats the mount peaks,
The chilly wind frosts all snaky creeks.
The shelter covered by creamy layer;
Face of a pane of the wistful thinker.
The clear icicles cling from the gutter,
Like the tearing of a sadden perceiver;
The thousand drops flood within:
Reviving my mother's teaching.
Once a spoiled teen in mother's arms;
Had poetical talent with full charms.
Then flew to adore distant flowers,
Received pitiful consequences later.
The obstacles shadowed the daily life,
Just a few of them have been rectified.
The foggy days repeat over and over?
Only self-confident man can endeavor.
Even powerful mind soaked in tears,
Let the body move on without fear,
Hopefully the snow fog will cease;
The strong heart could stay at peace!
Tomorrow the weather could be fine,
Keep moving on the tough, nasty line,
Even the fuzzy way lessens the vision,
Try hard to find the right destination.
Go on to reach out the ideal flowers
That bloom in the beautiful weather;
Leave the foggy days, obstacles of life,
To pass over the foggy day and smile!
(*I dedicate this poem to Sylvia Plath on reading her life and works.)
.
Oh, the wrinkled face makes me sad
When I look my reflection into you.
I know you are always true
Without preconception
And never change the reflection
But swallow it as it is
And present it to a person.
Never mistaken and not giving false image
Impartial, without love or hate to anyone.
Some ugly people may accuse you
Of being cruel and untruthful
As you don’t glorify anything.
To me you are God’s eye
Always truthful and impartial
With four dimensions.
+++++++
March 17, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Free Verse
Seventh Place win
Contest: Any Poem Goes # 14 by Linda PD
Shadow of Ignorance
by Odin Roark
How pervasive
This innocence
Turned weapon
Casting as it does
But silhouettes of its reality
The shadow of man
So often seen
So clandestine its verity
Moving over landscapes
Brightly lit with fear
Politics
Religion
Relationships
Business
On it goes
This outline of purpose
Hiding stealthily behind
Its backlit reality
Blind remains the perceiver
Trusting that which can’t be seen
Except by penumbra’s
Epiphanous delusion
Rare integrity
Steps from behind the eclipse
Revealing their true certitude
Risking that many perceivers
Will see such action specious
Leeriness of convictions
Dictates reason as shield
Aware mendacious agendas
Prevail as the given today
Thus argue the conscious
To excuse ourselves with ignorance
Is derelict of duty
Hastening the speed of covert influence
Rapidly paving persuasive highways
Where opportunity shows little honesty
Continuing to deceive our sense of safety
With misleading caution signs
Many speed through just before
Plunging over the cliff
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