Poetry challenge: “Self Portrait”

The next challenge was suggested by Devina.

That we each write a poem on ourselves, on the way we see ourselves, a “self portrait.”

She got the idea after reading T.J.Therien’s ‘Self Portrait’ poem.

Looking forward to reading all your poems.

I Bring Not Thy Peace But Thy Sword

I bring not thy peace but thy sword;

for God’s will is his way.

The devil may reap his rewards

but in the end will join them.

There will be shadows in light

but wills of darkness condemns

them in  barrows  where they

will stay,

to rot and fade away

until the end of days,

When legends are forgot

and lore becomes a myth

Good lives on

in the heart of pure warriors

who fought Evil in its highest

True light shall prevail

in face of battle

100 can overcome 1,000

If courageous and fearless stand

facing the same Shadows

that once in darkness dwelled

let them not cross the light

that hides their true form

for if they hide they will

never be found

fading into other forms

poseurs of Peace and Love

with faces hateful and grim

no one will want to judge them

and “hurt” their little whims.

But instead we feed them

and we let them grow

and in the end we’re left

with hard fists and no risks

So in closing destroy Evil in its wake

and let say what they will…

Because Evil knows no compromise

and like dreams of devils in paradise

they are not here to stay.

 

 

*History note*: The image I chose is of Imam Ali’s Sword Zhul-Fekar (its name). This sword has never come down on an innocent men and has never been used in anger, It has only been used to fight in Gods name and nothing else, For a tool of war it is the purest weapon in history. The last battle that Zhul-fekar was seen in  is the Battle of Karbala, it was used by the Imam Hussien( a.s),passed down to him from his brother Imam Hassan (a.s)  from their Father Imam Ali (a.s) after their murders. Zhul-Fekar disappeared after Karbala and no one claims to have looted it,(they would have loved to boast about claiming it as a booty of war) It is believed that  it will resurface with our 12th Imam, Imam Mahdi (a.a.f).

 

Poetry Challenge: Self Portrait.

Posted for Anshuman

I am a Poet 

I am a poet and this is my story

An essence of existence;
a silent observer of the night
A shadow that flickers in the dark,
fleetingly imitating life

Ephemeral in presence,
I write my story tonight,
before fading away, silently,
Into a world filled with light

Poetry Challenge: Self Portrait.

At Forty-Five (Timber) Poem.

At forty-five
I’m still alive
But I am older than the earth
What would deprive
Me of my drive
Would try to rob me of my worth
But I survive
I even thrive
I have since the day of my birth

Do You Hear Me?

Post for the poetry challenge: Landscape – a little late, I know

Another hot

Dusty

Airless day

The sweat

Pours from my brow

 

 

Do you hear me,

i-Afrika lami

(my Africa)

Listen to my voice

Umame wami

(my mother)

  

Poetry challenge: Self portrait.

My Life.

Being a teenager in the 60s

I lived life to the full

dances, bars, sports as well

chasing the girls

destroyed three cars

and two motorcycles

but that was fine

there were plenty more

They Vomit In Acronyms

They’ll kill to see you
convulsing in shock
on the cold bathroom floor,
praying to porcelain
and cursing shower curtains
for being motionless.

Your limbs clink
against each other
like hollow wind chimes,
because they’re trying
to tell love stories
about the bonds
of cartilage and bone.

Undone

The question wasn’t complicated,

The answer was.

She asked, “what’s undone in your life?”

I wanted to answer something about

Loves unknown or trips untaken.

I wanted to answer something about

Something invisible-

But my first thought was

“Me, I’m undone.”

Battle of the Sunrise

Poetry Challenge:Self Portrait

-23.05.13_21:35-
I found her letters
Tucked in amongst
Old memories,
Bitter reminder
Of what I’ve lost,
And gained

-23.05.13_14:25-

Necrophiliac cat
Rubbing on boney limbs
Seeking attention
From those
Who just lie there
Rotting

Poetry Challenge: Self portrait.

I’m Reaching

Petite feet, with Schwarzenegger toes,

trying since birth to reach me

to heaven,

or something just as peaceful

and lazy.

Calves the size of

baby cows

from lugging bail

upon bail to the barn ceiling.

Poetry Challenge: Self portrait.

Ode to Simple Things

I want to smoke my cigarette with Johnny Depp

on the patio of an Irish café, discussing how his children are doing,

if I would like another beer,

what he will do with his newest role in my newest movie,

and other simple little things.

I want to be confident in knowing

there is absolutely no one watching me change

in the locker room

and laughing into their shirts

so I can’t hear.

Home Maintenance

Our lawns need mowing
A cobweb’s growing
A gate is sagging
Repairs are lagging
Shelves are dusty
A latch is rusty
A faucet leaks
Our hall floor creaks
Laundry’s piled on the floor
A broken knob is on a door
Our housekeeping is far from kept
But our home’s well maintained in some respects

Poetry Challenge – Landscape

The Garden

Returning from the grocery store,

Heavy hearted and with less than I need

I saw the weeds overtaking the stoop

And knew I lacked the strength to fight,

As well as the funds to hire help.

Having put away my meager provisions

I sat by the window and rested my swollen foot.

Poetry Challenge: Self Portrait

Born on this earth

The third child

In the seventies

Years of wonder

Away from sports

An emotional mess

In the eighties

Years of introversion

My Pentecost

It came suddenly.

This gift so long-awaited,

Yet its arrival startled me.

I had grown accustomed to my hunger

And suddenly knew it no more!

In its place came a new excitement,

A new purpose,

A new understanding,

A new path,

And a new experience of grace

Filling me to overflowing.

Poetry challenge – Landscape

Changing the View

The landscape was bleak,
like aftermath of war;
fallout, with nothing left but
gaping holes,
emotional chaos changing
every “what if” into “when”.

Hairdressing?

Her days could be numbered already,
back against the wall with attitude,
one foot against the radiator,
arms folded, bored.
Its the way to stand though;
it’s cool to look to though you don’t care,
boys like it – don’t they?
Means you’re in the gang,
part of the scene.
No more stifling uniform for her;
she’s in “jeggings”, denim look,
doesn’t matter if you overspill,
they’re “in” and that’s that;
everybody’s wearing them.
And her mum’s pleased;
at least she’s got a job, they’ll train her up.

-22.95.13_01:34-

Thinking of you
Sound of your voice
The way you felt,
Secure in my arms
Warm, happy smile
Response to the one
You kindle in me

“Kitchen Maid At Ten”

(poetry prompt for “Imaginary Garden with Real Toads)

Pinched rustic sleeve pushed up,

Up above her elbow,

Zucchini green

Handkerchief ‘round her neck like a

Thick-skin absorbing the sour tang from heat~

A LITTLE THOUGHT

Posted for MOONLIGHT

Sometimes it only takes a little thought to show you care
For those whose life’s a struggle and who really need to share
The problems that engulf them, making life an upward climb
Sometimes they just need comfort, or for you to make some time
To listen to their problems and say the words they need to hear

“Enchanted”

Some folks say there’s too much silence
When they’re out in the country
If only they could hear
All the sounds that inspire me
Sunrise brings out the birds
As they begin their own songs
Except the Mockingbird who knows them all
And simply sings along
Each drop of rain from the storm
Makes a melody
And the voices of a waterfall
Sing in harmony
The leaves on each tree
Sway to every tune
When darkness falls the coyotes howl

Passion

“Take O! Take those lips away,

Those so sweetly were forsworn,

And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn;

But my kisses bring again

                                                               Bring again

Seals of love, but sealed in vain,

                                                                           Sealed in vain.”

Poetry challenge: Self Portrait

To know my body

look to my garden

wild and untamed

with nourishment hidden

in the necessary nurtured places

but no extra flowers or scents

to detract from earthy vitality