02 Monday Oct 2017
There’s a sign that says: Four people died here. A cascade of water tumbles over rocks into a pool. On the edges, it’s clear; you can see silt at the shallow bottom. The pool, though, is dark. It leads to a cavern hidden beneath the surface, undercurrents dragging the water there and holding it. […]
via Where Four People Died — J. W. Armstrong
12 Thursday Feb 2015
Tags
Age, Beauty, Faith, idol, Life, literature, mystic, poem, Poetry, Respect, the poet in the poet, Time, Yas Niger
What or who do you idolize? Do you revere anything in particular or do you just go it on your own, living life by your wits?
What sort of answers satisfy you when you are faced with those questions that simply refuse to be answered?
The patience of man
Had over many ages
Given to his own land
Births of many images.
It has made gods
Of so many symbols;
Earthly made rods,
Also celestial balls.
In his long wait
His patience creates
Answers that relate
Only to his state.
The clouds of reason
Cover his horizons;
Make a sky season,
Or mystic masons.
Sight is so deceptive
That it can tilt a view,
Halo any perspective
With inspired preview.
Man looks around
And sees such beauty,
Beyond any he found
Or his own humanity.
In his natural urge
He pays respects to
Visions and courage,
Where honour isn’t due.
In his all human way,
He puts faith in those
He comprehends’ll stay;
Idolizing his very nose.
25 Sunday Jan 2015
Tags
Beauty, bed, bury, club, Console, cut, day, enmity, entertain, forgotten, fresh, game, golf, goodness, grass, green, guest, hand, ignore, insanity, kind, lawn, literature, Love, massive, MERRY, mild, misery, nap, obsessive, overt, patch, penny, picnic, Poems, Poetry, rugby, sandwich, Scenery, shade, sheer, sight, sincerity, soccer, stare, The poet in the poem, trade, wisdom, Yas Niger
The wisdom in every beauty
Is not buried within its scenery,
For its goodness and overt sincerity
Consoles every form of misery
And looses every kind of enmity,
To love its sheer sight and merry.
I love a patch of grass. Green and fresh.
I could ignore an entertaining game of soccer or rugby to just stare at the grass. I have forgotten to hand in a golf club and a sandwich to my guest as we picnic in the shade, on the grass.
Give me a patch of grass to take a nap on any day and I will consider trading you my bed for a penny. My love for a freshly cut green lawn is massively obsessive and is akin to mild insanity.
It is like a Tempestuous reaction to the most tranquil of things.
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07 Tuesday Oct 2014
Posted in Poem
Tags
air, angels, Beauty, Bullets, chamber, close, cloud, flicker, flocks, Humanity, leave, Life, literature, lungs, Mind, Monarch, north, Pelicans, pierce, poem, Poetry, south, steel, television, The poet in the poem, thought, Time, TV, wonder, Yas Niger, Yellow
What you have seen before now
Is nothing like you will yet know.
Mountains higher than the clouds
Or galaxies from fictional worlds
Will flash before you in fast floods.
The breath of a lung transits
Or to anti-bodies a virus submits.
The skeleton of a lonely fetus,
As that of a Mammoth is shown us
And not a scene is ever a loss.
The Red sea had betrayed
The depth’s Egyptians embraced.
White Mountains of ice only
In the south pole melts slowly
As you watch it all so warmly.
Roof of this world up high
Marbles the earth down here.
Clusters of fish eggs hatches,
Soldier ant worker matches,
As its eyelids blinks its lashes.
The wedding of a Queen’s maid
Or a Roman shield in a pyramid.
A shark outwit a dozen sailors,
Unlike Caesar in his senate of traitors
Centuries ago showed their failures.
A terrorist and freedom fighter
Are both made a fire and its lighter.
A domesticated wolf devours a man,
For a just reason it is shown it can.
You enjoy the deserts’ heat under a fan.
Bloody vessels in vain roam a sea,
A ghost discusses and drinks tea.
The passengers of an old plane crash
Board the same plane again and smash.
The wealth you see leaves you no cash.
Every conceivable game is played
By men, animals and plants displayed.
The thickest clouds parade the sky
On pillars Himalayans peak up high
Or over raging ocean waters they fly.
Dancing birds dressed up to mate,
Two collapsing towers dust their fate.
The deepest valleys in the ocean waters
Reveal their secrets nature only alters
And nothing else in the world matters.
The uproar of a stampede crowds on,
Boiling heat erupting within the sun.
Sudden death stills a pumping heart,
A sprints heat repeated again from start
And the tracks appear your viewing mat.
Ash, gas and molten are experienced
As a volcano erupts its bowels so tensed.
Frogs hopping on water incredibly,
Like a pebble tossed so skillfully.
Sand storms windowed so luxuriously.
Satan’s countless personifications,
Lords of every era that raped nations.
Dancers of every race, sort and style,
Every single bubble in a mug of ale.
You see the characters in every tale.
The sparingly dressed wives in a harem,
Cardinal and son talk as you hear them.
A good view beneath a standing Scot’s kilt,
All the happenings in a billionaire’s treat.
Everything within sight, with every tilt.
Bullets leaving a closed steel chamber,
A pierced lung as all its air wonder.
Endless flocks of Pelicans go south,
Yellow cloud of Monarchs flicker north,
Their beauty fills every mind with thought.
Angels shielding a saint on a mission,
A nerve’s twitching response to a decision.
Ant like pedestrians on a city street,
That unsympathetic, selfish and proud fleet
Leaving tastes bitter, salty, sour and sweet.
Man’s endless quest for unknown perfections
Blurs minds with omissions and commissions.
The constructed aids in their achieved means
Entertain, educate and inform all the beings,
Yet in all its glory, humanity’s future it weans.
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15 Monday Sep 2014
Posted in Poem
Tags
act, Age, air, alive, atmospheric, august, Beauty, blue, breath, BREEDS, brown, caress, change, chasm, common, crescendo, dialect, dispute, Drum, entertain, fact, Fond, fruit, green, harmony, language, Life, Listen, literature, Lord, melodies, Metamorphose, metaphor, misery, monastery, musical, Natural, Nature, new, poem, Poetry, portrays, rhymes, rhythm, shout, songs, soothing, sound, Speak, storm, succumb, Teach, The poet in the poem, trumpets, welcome, whisper, World, Yas Niger
The beats of sounds speaks out
To be heard outside thought.
Taught mind holds out its arms
Which melodies caress and disarms.
Balance placed all around is
Fondly rolled out like this.
With august carpets welcomed
To change moods succumbed.
Beauty revealed in rhythm
That alone fills the chasm,
Teach that nature is a song
Sang in the world it belong.
Listening to living all about,
Natural in whisper or shout.
Speaking like a language
For all alive, of every age.
This one common dialect
That nature would select,
To talk to all its wards
Over whom it does lords.
Into the rhymes of beats
Even the soul also eats.
For the monastery of man
Isn’t too lonely to jam.
Drummed beats within ribs
Carry breath beyond its cribs.
Heard inside ears’ own confine
Till sound buries its own coffin.
This atmospheric gaol of man
He has only, all he does plan.
In its whirl spin of mystery,
It entertains man’s misery.
Trunk sounds nosy trumpets
Like fluty birds in high nests.
Peckers tap wooden gongs
As leggy harps chirp songs.
The hiss lull of breezy air
And crescendo a storm blare;
Conducts brown, green and blue
Into a harmony hardly new.
As sound speaks and entertain,
Nature so musically maintain
The oneness of all it breeds;
Sanely soothing all it feeds.
The metaphor portrays the act
That cannot dispute the fact;
That the fruit of this only life
Metamorphose with all alive.
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01 Friday Mar 2013
Posted in Poem
Tags
Beauty, dVerse, Poems, Poetry, Scenery, Tempestuous, Tranquility
Tranquility
TEMPESTUOUS TRANQUILITY
The wisdom in every beauty
Is not buried within its scenery,
For its goodness and overt sincerity
Consoles every form of misery
And looses every kind of enmity,
To love its sheer sight and merry.
This poem is posted in dVerse: dhttp://dversepoets.com/
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