As old age upon us descends,
we view the past through rosy lens.
It seems to us that bygone days
were far better in many ways.
The memories of better times
help us cope when life serves up limes.
They give us hope that better days
will soon return, like Dawn’s bright rays.
But dreaming of the good old days
can cause us to live in a daze
and rob us of the good in life
that abounds amidst its strifes.
The good old days had their fair share
of heartache, trouble, strife, and care.
The present times, in many ways,
are better than the good old days.
Treasure the good from bygone days
Let them inform your present ways
So, you can reap the very best,
As you progress in your life quest.
Old Willow Tree, let your branches fall,
Shelter me in your soft willow, I’m seeking a place to hide, not wanting to leave..
For as the soft wind blow your long weeping branches, I can hear the soft rain falling, it’s tear drops falling on me, yet I’m safe under your sturdy tree.
Why or how you got your name weeping Willow, is it because your branches fall as if one is weeping in sadness of grief or joy?
Weeping Willow, here you stand so tall, sturdy in the park, with fall leaves amidst the ground, through fall, winter, spring, summer, many people of all ages, kids, come to gather, seeking a solace from life’s many strifes, yet we know the phrase, “This season too shall pass..
Strong, weeping Willow, we shall meet again someday, to sit amidst your flowing branches, with GODS creations, birds, squirrels, robins, to soak in your beauty..
I sat on a chair completely nervous
to know where I would do my youth service.
Then came the rudest shock of my whole life,
I'd have to go up north where strifes were rife.
I didn't even try to change the posting,
I was downcast as many were boasting,
that they'd have a pleasant year of favour.
Me, it'd be a year of wasted labour.
At the camp, I hated all that I saw,
Even my strangeness was greeted with awe.
House flies may probably be their best friends,
because they surround their foods in their tens.
The harsher weather was too much for me,
Even, with dressing one can't be carefree.
Everywhere I went there, there was tension.
Trouble seemed to come by its mere mention.
I resigned to fate till one fateful day,
When my surname sake came to where I stay,
to ask if perchance we're from the same place.
And t'was a family tree we could trace.
She then introduced me to her father,
who knew my father without much bother.
So, in a strange land where all hopes were lost.
I met my lost cousin without a cost.
Everything good appears in your life in pairs,
'God has special interests in your affairs,
That's why showers of blessings pour on your life,
And immuned you against your enemies strifes.
Beauty naturally perches on your face,
Pure love has turned your heart to its dwelling place,
Kindness finds your life its natural abode,
On your life, many favours God has bestowed.
Intelligence finds in you its most comfort,
In all battles, wisdom makes you triumphant,
Happiness is what is seen in your mirror,
God's love for you makes your enemies shiver.
May days of your life be mightily blessed,
May God keep placing you higher than the rest,
May you live long in good health and in great wealths,
May from you and your friends, flee untimely deaths.
The Wooden Shop
Laughter mingled in the air,
And happiness danced with immense flair,
As they walked inside the vivid, wooden shop,
Hearts reinforced by caffeinated drink drops!
Colors painted across the small, glass spheres,
As they walked hand-in-hand, nearer and near,
Talking, and smiling, and teasing alike,
For in those moments, they forgot life’s strifes,
The beads weaved the golden seconds together,
As they tried on the jewels and ambers,
Each piece of jewelry engraved a new story,
Each bracelet gleamed with childhood memories,
Their bond stayed strong as the years turned gold,
Their earrings still swung, proud and bold,
And on one faithful day, it happened again,
The wooden shop was still vivid and plain,
The friends exchanged their life’s colors,
Weaving beads and joy all together,
Life had been tough, life had been hard,
But in that moment, they forgot their scars,
Laughing all their worries away,
The bracelets gleamed golden all day,
Happiness danced with immense flair,
Once again, laughter mingled in the air!
- Indrani A. Deo
I'm standing still
But at least I'm still standing
Some have their souls spill-
Their souls of reprimanding
Like dead leaves
Blowing in the wind
They wander
But do not go
They are a blanket
Chagrined
Of their souls
As cold as snow
They're ground, cracking at slightest quake
Allowing stones to tumble upon them
And more, lacking might and slamming brakes
Whenever they crumble some
For life yields challenge
There's strifes, the morale singe
But I will not stop when trespassed and infringed
I will not halt to a trouble, to a society unhinged
I will stand still
But, I stand ground
I'm standing still
But I'll never back down
Go
Go stand with your troubles
Go stand with your tears
Go on the snow
While dead leaves skim your tears
And there shall be a day-
If you always stand
There shall be a dusk
When you sprint on the land
Never fall down
Take this-- OUR poem's hand
You can't force a world
But your as for your soul
You're in command
~!
On the west coast of Africa
Stands there, the realm of liberty, Sierra Leone
She hosts men of but no clone
Many of her descendants are erudite
These men of controversies
Who seem to read only their self-verses
With their longing for power
Causing peaceful chaos in this blessed land.
The countrypeople are lopsided:
Some breed violence
Because they have always swept off peace;
Some chase equanimity away
Because they have dug and buried love
Minds of countermove
All these encumber development
And yet we profess nation building
Which is not so.
Albeit the strifes and brawls
If we be transformed in positive measure
We can still swim in the pool of country pleasure
Endowed in the fountain of peace
We should watch not ourselves of brag
But overshadowed by the whitish color of our flag
Our anthem of uniqueness.
O how bright it is to unite, to come together!
If we do this
With the anchor of ‘Together we rise’
By the weapon of oneness
Like those builders of Babel’s tower
We shall surely progress in building our nation in an hour
And in a unified coexistence.
With her demise, you gravely mourn,
as if your heart was gravely torn.
But, don't you think she is lucky?
From her cross, she's finally free.
You pass all time deeply mourning
from dawn until the next morning.
Only if she could say her rhyme
she'd tell you not to waste much time.
Beyond the grave, her soul's alive.
Against all strifes, she'll now survive.
So what's it that you're mourning for?
Do you mourn for dust on the shore?
So, throw your veil and wear your smile,
for, she's just here, not far a mile.
For her repose, you instead pray.
To heaven, may she find her way.
March 31, 2023
Death Of A Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsored By: Unseeking Seeker
Dear Child why do you have to endure worries of an adult?
Dear Child why does it seems your struggles to survive in this world is full of hardship s and strifes.
Dear Child a simple walk to a corner store, playground, mall, neighborhood you have to worry about trampled upon a madman.
Dear Child why you have to suffer the repercussions of a madman misguided choices.
Dear Child
There was a time when freedom lived
She reached all parts of the world
Like a soft wind
Leaving the minds uncurled
She was bold and proud
People expressed their love to her aloud
All of her glory combined
One could say how they felt inside
Opinions were described, defined
Freedom wouldn’t leave you behind
She was the essence of life
Her power was enough to end all evil strifes
It was a beautiful time to be alive
We really did thrive
With her glory and grace
She could put a smile on your face
Leaving her mark in every single place
When she would win
We could celebrate and dance the night away
Always made you feel good within
Her patriotism echos the playful blissful sounds of a violin
After her song finished
A standing ovation and applause would go undiminished
Life with her was not a crime
Freedom was our greatest time
A little bud in a deep corner
Waiting for a nod to come over
A wait too great
For the sun to illuminate
Hiding deep underground
For dusk and doom to be found all around
While noise is everywhere
But not a single caring sound
It is getting engulfed in the oceans of its sorrows
Loosing its only hope to come out of its Burroughs
But a ray of hope anyhow manages
And reaches underneath to heals all the ravages
To tickle the strength in the core of the bud
Smashing the bonds of disparity and mud
It labors with all its sweat and blood
In the end, a triumphing shiny sapling is born
On the walls of my graffiti life
Written those pandemonium things of my hurts my strifes
Depicted in letters and numbers and words
All the deploying menacing naked words
I am a living canvas
And Satan has written his damage
He has etched on me
Corrupted my spirit and my biology
I've erased savings writing on my body I no longer heed his call
I am by the wall
6/30/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
We long for arms to hug us
when nobody is willing to give up
a minute of their invaluable time;
a consoling embrace, a sympathetic look
can bring much empathy to our tears
and replace what others took
from us having stripped us of all pride,
but not of the unceasing will to rise!
Besides love and its fortitude,
everything else appears small;
we must declare it to all
and it will change hearts,
lifting them to another altitude...
becoming floating balloons!
We learned from mother
those incredible strengths
to confront life's strifes
and they became instincts
protecting our inheritance,
guiding us with prudence;
the older we got, the grayer
we saw the strands of our hair.
Besides love and its fortitude,
glory and power are the aspirations
of plebeians who weren't born to govern others
and feed their ego with conceivable anger:
knocking down everybody standing
in their way, woe to the one rebelling,
not complying with their rules of disdained platitude;
and certainly, death can be a sure thing as his fear.
History Repeats Itself
By: Miracle Man
6/27/2020
As past sins are remembered,
and while restitution/revenge is being sought,
evil upon the world is wrought.
History is incontrovertible,
yet history is being erased/altered.
By allowing statues to be torn down,
portraits removed, flags changed,
and the renaming streets and buildings,
Our country is becoming more fractured.
Each thing is offensive to someone.
The sins of our past must be remembered
for “Those who cannot remember the past
are condemned to repeat it.”
In the name of social justice
we jump through hoops to appease a vociferous crowd.
We’re indoctrinating young minds with the narrative,
that “The end justifies the means”
thus making violent acts acceptable.
Hatred is a heart thing,
And Jesus loves us!
Proverbs 10:12 -
Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.
Slither
me slips me beasty heart
beneath a piece of guise,
and pens some page of wisdoms
to place before they's eyes,
and with they's gaze diverted,
me dons me cloak of thief's,
and slithers in and steals they's love,
and leaves thems only griefs.
me slimeys up the way theys moves
about they's drudgy lifes,
and causes thems to kicks like bugs,
all caught in stuffs and strifes.
me sees this murky-mucky,
and glees it close to breast;
me knows me must continue thus,
or becomes like alls the rest.
but me sorrowfuls am becoming,
as guise weighs heart likes lead;
it darkens up me seeings in,
and fouls insides me head.
now me greeny eyes does leakings
with only leastest nudge,
and from me slitty portals
comes oozing weeps of sludge.
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