Squirrels leap with vain effort,
Baffles guard the seeds.
Autumn's bounty held aloft,
Nature's jest in silent play.
I close
my eyes to fend
off all sad scenes from sight
but my mind is not always shut
it lets the biting ants of pain come in
crawling through every narrow slit
tormenting me endless
in fear, my eyes
I close
Jan.9. 2022
Brian Strand No.1172 Poetry Contest
Life : game.
Name ; fame.
One can succeed who plays tricks,
Who laid foundation with flattery bricks.
Gain ; loss.
Happen because
Life : game
Which need
Is : heed
Which you really deserve don't get,
Have to accept unwillingly : our fate.
Honest ; polite
ambience delight
Life : game.
Lost crowd,
If proud.
Vain effort of chasing material gain,
Lead the path of unbearable pain.
Becomes alone,
though won.
Life : game.
Form : Trinet
Dead works...
sown to profit with grandiose worth
midst carnal motives of utilitarian gain
lurking in the guise of selfless sacrifice
yet awaiting futility's harvest...
Woe unto me, and my vain effort!
Dead faith...
persists to please the Almighty
while vanquishing lingering angst
guilty conscience inflicts
in overcoming challenges
for mankind's advancement
yet gaining no spiritual merit...
Pity me, and my well-being!
Dead to sin...
as adversary keeps on mocking
for hell's condemnation due to iniquities
gripped with pride along covetous cravings
yet seeking redemption through divine grace and mercy...
Oh God, quicken me, and my soul!
Dead to self...
now conquered by the Saviour's love
strives to reach-out with kindness, sharing peace, compassion, hope
challenging deadness' venom with reverberating
"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
But thanks be to God, which giveth us
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."*
*1Corinthians 15:55-57
August 28, 2019
Edited on September 27, 2023
1st place, "Mocking the dead" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 9/29/2023
I sometimes sit
At the train station
And watch the people
Go by. They sweep past
Hurriedly, filling the quiet
Of my thoughts
With bustling energy.
Then a little one’s head
Will turn, inquisitive
Eyes questing to know more about
This curious lady in
Her red felt hat,
And for that moment,
The swirling hordes pause
And the world takes
Notice. Before his mother pulls
Gently on his hand,
Before she admonishes him
Not to stare—
I meet his eyes with a
Smile, in vain effort
To tell him that
I understand. We are both
Students of the world.
The clouds are dark,
And scary,
Not a single star is twinkling,
The sky looks dense and without any glitters!
The clouds and the moon are lark,
Although its very dark!
Frequent moving clouds..
As if its a race!
And the moon is hides itself,
Somewhere in between the clouds!
The moon is in a playful mood,
Playing hide and seek,
Taking full pleasures,
Of the dense clouds.
Yet its brightness cannot be hidden,
The light penetrates through the clouds,
All its trials..
were a vain effort!
The scenery is photogenic,
Worth to be captured,
Its eye catching and magnificent!
The gibbous phase of moon,
is enhancing its beauty.
Duskier the clouds,
Shimmering were it looks.
It may be our urge,
To see the ray of light in the dullness,
That made the moon looks-
The brightest and the best!
They guilts of every soul are deeply hidden within,
carrying an unconceivably needless weight...
and yet nobody is willing to get of it by shunning sin;
they would rather conceal it and live with it.
Only God sees the guilts of every soul;
we may look righteous to others and get undeserved praise,
but to Him we are an obdomation of evil,
which without repentance, as He promised, He will not erase!
I have my guilts and bowing in regret,
I let them all come out of darkness to meet His glorious face;
and if I am to live in humbleness and grace,
I must get rid of them and stand erect!
So continue defying the forces of goodness,
and find yourself alone unable to overcome your emptiness;
friends will extend their hand, but pride will keep
it from touching yours, and forever you will grieve and weep.
Let the Heavenly waters wash all your guilts away,
be cleansed and please Him always without feeling hopeless and unworthy,
without attempting to remove them yourself with vain effort...
I stand at the river of salvation, not remembering sin,vanity, pain and hurt.
Blackness surrounding me
Streaked with differing shades of grey
Shards of hope fly by
Shattered dreams from ages past
Reflecting the total lack of light
Just out of my grasp
Why are they here teasing me?
Making me think that there is a chance
That there may be a way out
I look
Scanning the darkness
I watch the shimmering hope float by
At the tips of my extended fingers
Then I realize that it is a vain effort
Hope will never come to me
I resign myself to the eternal blackness
To grasping for dreams
That I will never ever reach
Reason bare of structure like a storm
Ovulating in an angry sea
Stir sedition and juxtaposes its norm
Ego-wise against a season's glee
Latent turbulence primed with insecurity
Drizzled from a tempestuous sun
Altar of a sadist's alternating history
Gulp your blustering track to the mark
Rendered as God's boundary
Exert not your vain effort to spark
Excitement of lightening in the air
Never more your rage shall cloy my heart with fear.
The last golden beams of sunlight
Shining bands cast an amber tint to the world
Reaching out into a darkening Heaven
Grabbing at the sky in a final vain effort
It reaches for stars too distant to reach
Trying to keep daylight for one more minute
The sphere fades over a blue horizon
From gold to violet to the darkest blue
The world changes its hue
The world noticed and becomes at peace
Its chaos turns into a peaceful rest
Even the strongest winds fade into a gentle breeze
The sounds of life silent themselves
And the world sleeps
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