Precincts Poems | Examples

Motherly Love and Frowns

                         Motherly Love and Frowns


Treading down the memory lane streams to my mind 
memories from far yet near, some sweet, some sour,
memories preciously shelved in the precincts of my inner sanctum;

so sweet were the mindful motherly hugs of love
	like the embrace of a divine angel 
so serene soft and self-assuring her smiles
         like the spring selfless sunshine
so delicious her warm kisses on the forehead
	that no other feel can replace,
yet interspersed at times with some harsh words
	for playing hide and seek on the sideway street;

so soft was the caress of her hands on the cheeks
	that not even a beloved can bestow
so cool and compassionate her cuddly care
         no considerate nurse can dispense
so pleasing to rest on her merciful knees
	more so after a hectic day`s fatigue,
yet interposed often times with some scowls
        for dusting my clothing or getting home late after cycle rides;	
 
 In afterthought, her love and frowns have made me the man I am.

The Dinosaurs At Webb Dock

Early morning and the gantry cranes
at Webb Dock look like long necked
dinosaurs lining up to drink from the river - 
and the sky is aglow as it might have been
when tinged by the first hint of that asteroid 
slamming into Yucatan on the other side
of the world 66 million years ago.

This is 2025 and no asteroid threatens  
our fragile planet, yet more subtle 
things do -  things that reside in the dark
precincts of the human soul that pour
out pollution and in silos and undersea,
stoke embers that could at anytime
break free and incinerate us all.

Indomitable Instinct

The exigent mountain 
in the tough terrain 
of upheaved life,
          crumbling, 
needs to be climbed 
as the solemn summit 
alluringly calls.
I follow 
the undefined trail
in surging storm 
of stifling strife,
          relentless. 

I cross with piety 
the divine portals
God installs
in the precincts
of eclipsed destiny, 
          dormant.
In His decree,
designed with certainty
I repose resolute trust, 
faith shows me the path
to the content summit
of solacing rapture
in the dark nights 
of scary squalls,
          delusive. 

The turbulent sea 
of chaotic life
in tempestuous disarray, 
I need to sail 
          serene,
find with forbearance 
the last anchorage, 
get guided 
by His benign beacon 
with dedication just,
          steadfast.

The tormenting alley 
of endless anguish,
          submerged 
in opaque darkness 
          desolate, 
needs to be lit, 
the shreds 
of shattered soul 
salvaged from the abyss, 
are to be sutured
with threads 
of divine essence
esoteric,
embroidering ecstasy
at the frail fringe
of agonized actuality,
shaping the survival instinct,
indomitable.



-

The Stroke

An idea was imprisoned in such a bind
It bounced about within the precincts of the mind
What did it mean I heard you say
I didn’t know about it right away 

For it was not alone in there
And had to survive a longish stare
But what was missing in its story
Was the truth in all its glory

What will be written for the ages
In history as you turn the pages
Will it be corrected with a stroke of the pen
Or will the stroke win in end.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Three things that thrilled my heart

I thought and thought. In all the world
Three things touched me, my heart captured:
Sugarcane derivates,
What poet’s pen creates,
And lithe limbs of a lass
That stir, in breeze as grass.
________________________
Translation |24.10.2024| sweet, poems, lissom lass  

Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. The poet here says, ‘I thought and thought and three things touched inner precincts of my heart: sweets made from sugarcane, penmanship of poets, and a lissom lass’ lithe figure’.  The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:

Sanchintya sanchintya jagat samastam, 
trayah padaarthaa hridayam pravishhtaah |
Ikshho vikaaraah kritayah kaveenaam, 
mugdha-anganaayaa anga tarangitaani ||

An Old Clinker Boat in Williamstown

There is a sadness at the sight 
of this wreck of a boat, 
beached on a brick pad,
paralyzed and deprived 
of riding the tides or being swung
on a mooring line by waves
and wind. It sits as a curiosity
to attract a passing eye, 
a ruptured monument to the precincts 
maritime history. With a gaping 
hole and peeling paint 
it is a mere caricature 
stripped of dignity.

On walks I often pass it or sit
nearby as if in silent vigil 
or just to keep it company
for a while. I would like 
to see it given a fate 
more fitting than being an exhibit 
of progressive decay. 
Silly of me perhaps to endow it
with worth and be moved 
to write these words and do honor
to the hands that made it, 
feel a sense of sorrow
as a weathered soul
is sometimes inclined to do
when confronted by such a sight.

Nobel Prize Can Surprise

Grand Citations of The Still Sober
In Neared Radios of Fresh October
And one had in mind a Graham Greene
But - Lo! - Some Newly Discovered Being:
“Greene had a bit got sensational,
 His rejection not intentional. 
Next, Some Writer with Proverbial Gun
But-Sorry-Rubber Bullets of Fun
A Gordimer Admirer piteous
But to Nobel “Pharisee-Righteous”
And therefore, should not cross The Gate
At its Precincts continue to wait…

A Rock Musician surprised by it: 
He hadn’t realized The Candle lit:
Said to have delayed Letter of Thanks,
Afraid of Enemies’ Armored Tanks!
But his had been Years of Passion
What he did poetically fashion.
Churchill for “Speeches that fought Hitler” 
How dare you hold such effort littler?
Pleasantest Surprise: Albert Camus?
With Dagger-Point Sentences he slew;
Calculate it: at just Forty Four
Clarity had him pushed to The Fore…

Nobel Prizes don’t aim to surprise 
But might keep coming as A Surprise!

Win Or Lose, We Can Choose

I am done, finished, I am going now,
It is getting a bit sore, hurting now!
I come here poets, simply to make more friends,
write Poetry, with life to make amends!

Poetry is expression of my thoughts,
come in abundance, somedays do not,
I wish to share them with you in this place,
please do not make this some kind of rat race!

So do you win more often than I do?
Poet of the day, contests , what have you!
If it pleases so much, you can have mine!
I shall continue to write, just be fine!

Each poem comes with its own fingerprint, 
same thoughts but said from different precincts,
In them see a reflection of my mind,
when they write better, I shall stay behind!

so when you win next, give yourself a pat,
I shall stay behind and raise you my hat,
True happiness lies not in being best,
but having the heart to applaud the rest!

I shall love you and leave you with a bow,
For token prizes let’s not have a row!! 

Written 24/04/2021
Judge not lest ye be poetry contest
John Lawless sponsored
Sonnet 10 syllables each line
5x4+2

A Stranger Came From Nowhere

In the fading gleam enveloping the twilight hour, 
the frail edge of lives tended to lose mortal definition, 
its meaning masked by the murk of futile existence,
the misty minds sought the glow of the rainbow aura. 

A thirsty pilgrim in the relentless pursuit of mirage, 
travelled tormented  in the wilderness of the desert  
to the parched precincts of the dried up earthly souls, 
searching for the benign gift from behind the cloud. 

On garden path paved by precious stones of their faith, 
fragrance of blooming blessings wafted in the dusty air, 
the unsatiated mortal souls yearned to comprehend
the euphoric perception configuring  the bliss illumined. 

Sitting outside the door of the temple a hungry man 
seemed to have surrendered the rest of his time to fate, 
got some food from a stranger coming from nowhere, 
his eyes glinted joy in the rays of the sun that rose for him.

March 6, 2021

The Precinct

The Precinct		

        Slowly the shadows of night-time begin to appear
        In corners, and crannies, they take their usual place
        And quietly gather together until I can hear
        The voice of darkness, and whispers that rustle like lace.
        Soon they will join, holding hands to form silence and peace,
        Soft blankets that comfort and hide all the trials of the day,
        They speak of the world and their voices will gently release
        All the unspoken words that the tormented dead have to say.
        Sanctuary waits for all souls that are seemingly lost
        In the now empty precincts, like doves on the wing they alight,
        Knowing that here the last boundaries are finally crossed,
        And their still aching hearts may be saved in the dead of the night.
              Hope is the burden they carry wherever they go,
              As they silently run when the mornings first light starts to glow.

Joy of the Lord In His Eyes

In the fading gleam of the twilight hour,
the frail edge of life losing mortal definition,
its meaning sunk in the murk of existence, 
misty mind sought the glow of God’s aura.

A tired pilgrim on relentless pious pursuit,
I travelled tormented from place to place
in the precincts of His earthly dwellings,
searching for benevolent grace of divinity.

On the garden path of my fathomless faith,
fragrance of blooming blessings suffused me,
but the unsatiated soul yearned to discern
His euphoric perception, configured in bliss.

Outside the door of the temple a hungry man
seemed to have surrendered to Him his fate,
when I fed him in delight to his heart’s content,
I saw the joy of the Lord sparkle in his eyes.

September 20, 2020
Contest : Joy of the Lord
Sponsor : Regina McIntosh

Nobody Breathes

Come down hard on repeat offenders
in both precinct and in communities
leave the tender buds to blossom
weed out the pretenders of peace.. 
but no matter the color or gender
some people will never blend
they're derelict and defective
They need to be pruned
into an earthly rest 
no more revolving doors 
of rose colored 
courts.
We need to skim the rot 
from the reservoir of our peace
shock treat..chlori-nation if you will
It'll irritate at first
but after awhile
muddied waters will start to clear

An open-ended amount of chances
for predators in communities and precincts
is a life sentence without the possibility of escape
for communities
THEN NOBODY BREATHES!

Summer Dance

S-tars whirling through midnight black skies, whitely,
U-rged on by the Milky Way, twinkling quite brightly.
M-adcap moon in a romance dance over sapphire earth,
M-eaningful though mild, in the precincts of her birth!
E-arly morning lemon clouds sweep by tall mountaintops,
R-acing the redbirds, as emerald toads do froggy hops.
D-aily masquerade ball of a red sun's splash and dash,
A-nd the mysterious wind, giving vivid blooms whiplash!
N-ebulous green waves, undulate seductively into foam,
C-ameo appearances of butterflies, in acutely green homes.
E-ach noon intensely golden, each tango new, though olden!

A Scribbled Page

I’m a page of the book of life
Once pure and lure and white as white
Oh! Now tinged with too many inks
Still many are waiting to scribble a few.
With puny hands some wrote me soft
Some are harsh they tear my heart
Supple hands draw labyrinth lines
My prosaic precincts some plundered and pierced.
Now the book is with a naughty child
He tears the pages as he please
One by one or bunches of many
My weary long page will last in his jest.



Contest Name : Non Human

A Sappho Song Tribute

sorrows 
    of the night
dew
falls
    tenderly
       upon hearts
of loneliness
breath
words
      soft spoken
disperse
the light
    into
       purple
          shadows

soft
    as honey
in
   precincts
       of pleasantness
blissful
sweet
        murmers
delicate
as nectar
       bring
           mist to the eyes

loves
     elegance
        a safe neighbour
fair
   to look upon
paler
    than summer
                 grass
sweet flowers
to
    treasure
as
   the golden
                   sun

tyranny&
             tenderness
              of love
manifest
     in particles
limpid
living streams
           gold
             tinted lines
quivering
      lustres
           of splendour
charm&
          cloud the eyes

delicious
      laughter
         sweet sounding
flare
    afresh
      from a sacred
                        grove
caresses
revery
&radiance
                 bloom
in a whirlwind
of
longing
          return favour
to the eyes
embroider
             and salute
worship
        devoted
               to
                   beauty

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