Best Stipulated Poems
No date announced, No stipulated time given
No clue about the venue
No hint on how it will come
Surely, it must take place
How pleasant it will be when it takes place
How sad we become when it takes place
How fearful we become the moment it takes place.
I look over the fields behold great flowers and plants
Wow! what a beauty and nice fragrance
Joy in the air like the news of a new baby.
Shortly afterwards, i mean with just little time
The joy got eroded
The blossoms have withered
The beauty has vanished
They are not permanent in their earthly nature
They change. They blossom and they wither away
Their change is the only permanent thing we can see
So they live in their turns,
so they die in their turns not following any order
But the love of their death is the law of new life.
And so they always chorus: Who is next?
The answer to that is always: We don't know
Neither do i know.
If we do not know who is next, then let ALL prepare.
Let Everybody lives as if he is the next
Since Somebody is the next
Of course Anybody could be the next
Let nobody thinks he can't be the next
Powers beyond measure with messages of the spirit,
the BALD EAGLE soars with might, so majestic I can hear it.
Bestowing freedom flying higher than any other bird,
and when in silence in the night his voice can be heard.
Symbolizing courage with intense eyes to catch prey,
the strength of the BALD EAGLE will always be portrayed.
The distance of mother nature providing such nobility,
has brought faith in humanity and given such dignity.
Powerful and robust is a BALD EAGLE in high flight,
a predator during the day and on the watch at night.
Native Americans see them as a leader for vision,
without restraints or impractical stipulated provision.
Soaring with grace as the American national emblem,
with those silky-smooth feathers, they fly with momentum.
Pueblo Indians associated them with energy of the sun,
holding great perception, and to never be shunned.
I once had a dream I was soaring with a mighty BALD EAGLE,
it meant freedom with great strength and that we are all equal.
SPIRIT GUIDES CONTEST
June 8, 2017
Characters in action
Talents in multiplication
Shapes and sizes of many version
Skills on display with tension
Over the top ropes one would gape
Under the ropes one can escape
Apron of thick mattress
Arena of countless matches
Highlighted are dressed to kill
Fronting the crowd that fill
Seats of spectators that cheer
Feats of competitors, not jeer
Matches roll with blunder
Rumbling and grappling like thunder
Crutches and splints spread over
Bodies of the bruised fall over
Grueling matches live on
Under any pressure show must go on
It's not "business as usual" that linger
Players of theatrics in danger
Venues are slated by dates
Participants stipulated as mates
Previews of expected bouts
Reviews that excite and shouts
Year after year is the Rumble
Inside the ring that crumble
Event that sounds so noble
Fame, not fortune that bubble
A prelude to Wrestlemania
An interlude of regalia
A shot coveted in spotlight
A spot asserted with delight
Let's get ready to rumble!...
"Bildungsroman"
childish things
become children
the sweetness
leaves them
when the dream
in reality leaves them
to walk hand in hand
with the nightmare
of what becomes
us as adults
protagonists are
sometimes heroes
sometimes villains
inside us all dwells
a versatile shadow
we save ourselves
by extracting
the unwanted
familial
in our marrow
antagonists
challenge the
villain in our heroes
we are torn in two
walking down
the middle path
a territorial line
safe and blunt
drawn from
the grey of
sharp black being
and null white seeing
dull dotted lines
wanting erasure
signatures
we are footprints
walking out
all our contracts
time stipulated, then
broken
for better or
worse
driven to Bildungsroman
a complacent district
insouciant
no longer kicking
and screaming
tokens passed
between malleable
lips, minds slipping
softly
marshmallow
into the long kiss
good night
children again,
dreaming
becomes us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"A Dream About You" / Airshade, Dreamscape
https://youtu.be/lt0_ql7duDg
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bildungsroman
From hunting comes
From hunting drums
From hunting hums
All bright stars
Near and far
In New York or Trafalgar
Those stars in skyscrapers
Those dazzling gold vapours
The government shapers
The controller of all papers
All go on hunting
And keep counting
And measuring sometimes too
In the treasury
Keep your eyes open
The lids may shut up
Keep the cup wide
You will see everywhere
Ensnaring unaware
The tiger killing the helpless deer
Deer who love destiny
Who worship deities
Members of the laity
Dependent on goddesses and gods
In their odds
Fall very easy prey
To the hunters obsessional play
Their God has no say
In the decay
By hunters in dust they lay
Shrunk tottering mewing aching
Finally breaking down
Into the absolute immobility
Thanks to the myriad kinds
Of the guns of the hunters behind
I perk up my ear
In the civilized forest
And hear the guns
Nuns and monks are in readiness for nursing
Churches mosques temples towering for services
What a grace
My every molecule encapsulated in attention
Hears the sound of the gun
And feels the consequent death
The blue sky we love so much laughs nonetheless
The ground underneath
Is moistened in crimson red
Black velvet
First hunt the doe, a decoy
Leopards and tigers follow in joy
We are all pretty toy
In the hands of the hunters
We look on in wonder
Of grandeur of the capital
Take or surrender
You may grunt
Fruitlessly
Willy Nilly
You have to join the hunt
____________________________________________________________
30/10/2016
Not for contest since the lines have exceeded the stipulated limit which I failed to notice when I first read the contest details.
Though justification may be in faith,
And hope sustain us through all trouble,
Greater still than either is agape,
The love that comes from God,
The concern for our fellow creatures
Which acknowledges our oneness.
We call it love or charity; in fact
It transcends both those words.
It is at base an unjudgmental affirmation
Of our shared human nature; unlike
Ordinary love, agape flows untrammeled,
No strings attached, no conditions stipulated,
A free-bestowed outpouring of compassion
Unqualified, and seeking no reciprocation.
When we open ourselves to God’s love
And freely yield us up to be its instrument,
Then love’s paradox is plainly seen:
The more we give, the more it lives in us.
October 14, 2019
Written for Regina Riddle's "1st Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Contest"
I remember it was this day 21st of June
I sauntered into a famous furniture mart.
They have developed a hotel type room.
They offer the customers a unique feel.
With advance free booking for two hours
To relax and test a mattress in a bed room,
The room with facilities of TV and stereo.
Even the customers are told to bring pajamas.
As I snoozed for more than stipulated hours,
I did loose to choose to snooze 300 dollars.
Though I have read and taken a candid lesson
From Aesop’s fable The Tortoise and the Hare.
================================
For the contest : You snooze you choose by Nikko Palmario
I think I forgot to enter the poem in the contest.
Like a reclusive boat, I remained there,
discerning the prevailing winds of change,
which many a time, made me embrace fear,
by surpassing the stipulated range.
When winds of change blurred the light house's light,
I blanked out and forgot my wonted route.
Struggled, wiggled and jiggled without sight
amid the sea, and there a hope sprouted.
Even when vigorously slapped on face,
and ruthlessly elevated mild tides,
it's a toilsome task to shudder ,sea base
and that's why I endorse her as a guide.
She persuaded that it's not writ large force
that help us win; it's just our inner source
Nov-17-2020
Your sultry sensual look I still embrace
As I think of those mesmerizing violet eyes,
My heart then quickens and starts to race,
If only you knew what you still do to me.
Whose fault was it that sad sad night,
When you spoke those unjust words,
Was it meant for me to run away in fright,
If you only knew, how much I still love you.
Maybe it was me, or perhaps it was you began
An argument that was bitter, that left me mad,
But know that when you ran away, I also ran,
If you only knew that I could never forget you.
You dazzled me, with your graceful, swan like neck,
Frolicked with your cleavage, your creamy breasts,
Rising and falling, knowing I desired, needed you,
If only you knew that you were the soul of my heart.
I ran after you to catch you, but I was too late,
The rain was pouring you tripped, hit your head,
I picked up your lifeless body, it was your fate,
If only you knew your death was the end of me.
Written for Silent One's contest
However Not Entered as the stipulated number of poems was met.
When I had to take a special car back to Liverpool
Through the speedily running windows, on the rolling hills
The Yellow Acacia continued to flash before my eyes
Like the joyful lights beating beside the road in seam...
They are messengers of spring, coming with hope
To light up the future for me who was lost at midnight...
I clearly saw the brilliant oracle,
Somehow like the imperial-issued decree
Instructing us to be persistent,
When marching forward with dignity
To meet our lives...
She gave us the opportunities to accomplish:
The obligations stipulated in the life contract,
And picking up the burden on our shoulders...
To embark on the road of life again,
To meet the coming summers and Autumns...
Life never easily abandons people who love her
And always loves people she loves, never leaves
She loves their kindness, friendliness, and piety
with living up to each other's promises
And not changing the eternal theme of lives
Until figuring out the mission and significance
As Gifted by the Creator...
Awakened by the messenger's purpose
I suddenly see staring at the starry sky overhead
When I was walking arduously in the darkest hours
To check the mind carved by the sun and the moon
If it was ready to honor the contract faithfully
Looking back, when I lost, without explicit directions
HOPE comes with the certification written
By using the golden Acacia flowers
To brush the frost and snow on the cold road
Who I am?
I am a human
Created and crafted by the amalgamation of
My father and mother
I was in the womb of my Mother with pain and joy
For a stipulated time
And I landed in this earth with the sound of
“Chiyaha”
I am in the human ocean to struggle for my survival
By rolling my emotions in between ignorance, hate, ego, and greed
To gain the most precious knowledge and things from human ocean
I am a lost soul in this world
Rolling in the ocean to away from ignorance, hate, ego, and greed
To know myself who I am
Even though not able to judge who I am
Not you…..just me
******
One mountain after another
The green jagged edges
Puffy clouds hither and thither
Cloud around the sedges
Clouds make love with high peaks
Holding our gaze in awe
While the lips the mountain-top seeks
Wind blows and clouds withdraw
Clouds are somewhat promiscuous
Now they love the hill tops
Soon they feel it monotonous
And shift to thick green locks
The hills are lost in lovely thoughts
Rhododendrons are nice
We try to find their lovely plots
Drizzle and congealed ice
Blue thrush sings you whistling
You feel relaxed like sky
You draw fragrance deeply smelling
The musk rose laughs close by
Suddenly lands a roaring sound
Filling the nearby air
Very soon all the silence drowned
River descending there
Amazingly tall waterfall
Thundering and making us small
_____________________________________________________________
16 August, 2016 : For Contest : Wordscapes : Sponsored by John Hamilton
The concluding two lines in addition to the stipulated 24 could not be avoided
On Christmas Day,
I heard someone ringing
The bell of my secret door,
That same which hides my haven,
A place known to me solely,
A place which allows me
To wear my crown and to decide
Of life's rules without anyone
Trying to push his or her will upon me!
I rose from my throne
And opened the door ever so slightly,
Peeking at my visitor fearfully,
As if,
I were a little girl, too scared of life
And of its shadows to even dare
To venture out by myself!
Who is it? I asked the visitor
It is I, none other than your childhood memories
It is I,
Who have come to feed your heartbeats
With both warm and teary sceneries
Of how life once was
So as to have you understand
That,
As stipulated by the skies once,
You are to be attached neither to anything
Nor to anyone
For the world shall be temporary and transient
For as long as it would be!
Come in,
I said to my visitor
Open up your bag and let the memories flow,
While I pour you a glass of wine
Open up your bag indeed
And allow my heart to soar upon the waves
Of emotions as they rage through my oceans
Because
Life's changing nature
Has pushed me to give myself a new birth,
One which allows me to pamper myself with self care whilst
Forsaking the rest
Simply because I am seen as the misunderstood one!
Simmer down and relax a little,engage that frown don't be so brittle,people say I'm worth a bit more,out of ten I'd give me a four,don't be cryptic or complicated,I'll have it pure and stipulated,get me high while hope is low,embrace my depth from a cloud to my toe.
Powers beyond measure wearing messages of the spirit,
BALD EAGLE soars with might, so majestic I can hear it.
bestowing freedom flying higher than any other bird,
and under ivory stars his squall can be heard.
Symbolizing courage with intense eyes for prey,
the strength of the BALD EAGLE is always on display.
The distance of mother nature provides such nobility
and has brought faith to humanity and given dignity.
Powerful and robust is the BALD EAGLE in flight,
a predator during the day and on watch at night.
Native Americans see them as a leader for vision,
without restraints or stipulated provision.
Spirit totem waving fortitude to all who can hear,
and all animals that lay eyes on him show fear.
His tenacity and endurance are countless and dignified,
as food for his fledglings he strives to provide.
He is proud to be the American national emblem,
with those silky-smooth feathers; flying with momentum.
Pueblo Indians associated them with energy of the sun,
holding great perception until the dawn of day is done.
The bald eagle is predatory and carnivorous,
from elk to ravens his diet is so tremendous.
He sheds light down to show vigor exists
because eating flesh and fish is what he persists.
I chose the bald eagle not just for his splendor,
for he’s a spiritual bird and an offspring defender.
He’s a national freedom beautiful representation,
and should never be held in cruel captivation.
October 6, 2019
Writing Challenge, October, 2019 -Bird-
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode