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Jay M Wong Mar 2013
Captured by a passing gust, minute petals dance in the warmth of the heavy air. The sun rests overhead; its blinding, piercing rays, malicious in warmth, scorch the innocent earth. The air is hot and heavy – suffocating, if not, stifling. There lacks any existence of life in this barren wasteland. It is a dry and it is dead; the depleted desert stretches for miles and all that could be seen is but the dry terrain – the earth and sand engulfing everything that was once there. And still the minute petals dance in the blazing heat; their owner, a withered flower, suffers the harshness of the burdened terrain. Whether it be the blazing heat or the heinous droughts, the flower struggles for survival, its florid beauty, withered, but it continues to exist and play the role Someone gave.

I was born – their first baby.  I had inherited all my precursors’ failed dreams and was burdened at birth by their expectations and goals. I was to achieve what they failed to achieve, be what they failed to be. I was to walk in their footsteps and finish their unfinished business. My parents were the first to set foot on American soil; hoping to succeed in this new society, they had set valuable goals for themselves – which unfortunately they failed to complete. And knowing that their desires were no longer achievable, they bestowed their past dreams to the next generation.

Did I first hate their burden blaming Someone for placing me into the heavy shackles of the past. I felt their goals, a mountain of failure, upon my shoulders. I was drowning deep in the ocean of my precursors – their dreams, their desires, a treacherous wavefront upon my chest. I was a vassal made to fulfill the dreams left behind. I was a culprit perished in the barren lands. But above all, I was blind.

My mother was burdened by my birth; her dreams, a shattered mirror, were no longer a reality. In order to nurse my toddler self, her desires were put aside, as she worked multiple jobs to support not only our new family, but the existing family consisting of my father and his siblings, due to the death of their mother months before my birth, and the abscondment of their father to flee financial issues. She had sacrificed her livelyhood and personal dreams for the family's posterity. She had forfeit her wishes to a foul hindrance, one whom abolished her hopeful dreams: me – my birth, an anchor upon her merchant barge.

Yet, numerous times have I waken in the midst of night to find a glaring beam beneath the door; its illuminating glow, penetrates my room through the confined entrance. It was my father finally home. He was never someone to talk to for he was always at work; he was never home for his restaurant never permitted; he was never present at my birthdays but cake was bought from his sweat and soul. And often would I not see his face for months due to our disarranged schedules. Had I hated him for his absences. But now do I love him for his sacrifices. He had trusted the next generation with his heart and soul, and his absences were solely to support his loved ones.

Had I not understand, beclouded by the mist of Why me’s and I cant’s, but now do I find their bestowment a gift. Slowly, have I grown to understand; their pain, their suffering were merely a token for my success. They have gambled their livelihood solely for my efforts; it is something simple I love you’s will never equate; their debt, I must attempt to repay – sole gratitude will never recuperate the wounds of a broken dream. Their wounds tears my eyes when I envision them. Their ideals yields a weight upon my chest. Their agony crumbles my heart like an unneeded paper. In the past, did I not understand their ways but now have I realized the blessing they bestowed upon me.

Therefore, I was granted their heritage and must fate drive me to abide by its path. Do I now understand the pain they have suffered and the sacrifices they have made. I was born into a family of high hopes and expectations – I was their withering flower. Have I grown to accept that role – to shadow my precursors hoping to shatter their traditional defeat; it is the role Someone gave. And He will never be blamed again for He will rid this blazing heat and treacherous terrain so that this flower will cease to wither but bloom in the autumn air.
Originally an essay that was written as part of a college application in 2010. Now, it is a fragment of a biography.
service failure the ***** will offer
there's something medically askew with it
the usual role is proving so unfit
a second chance in a transplant's proffer
another dies to bring life back again
wellness being redeemed by precious gift
the recipient receives a big lift
living's joy restored out of the rain
someone's kind donation affording breath
so that the period of existence stays
a healthy liver performing its job
for not to have this giving there'd be death
the bestowment allows those future days
gratitude felt within a person's cob
Dahlia Nov 2012
Reaching out for what delivers its existence

The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun

An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment

Forever longing anxiously for that connection



The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly        

Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another

Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you

Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched



Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs

Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape

Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge

Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home



Like the sun now churning our eager energy

Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need

Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation

Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation


Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance

Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment

A base for these unbridled electrical impulses

The quintessence of our fusion now realized


We are the union of two wandering forces

Ignition progresses affectionate meditations

Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments

Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
S.V.R Jan 2010
Terrestrial flame, inner pandemic
Euphoric feeling, pain so miasmic  
Anatomic design, enduring torture,
Return now my sorrows, dark, true and pure,
Searing red tears, dreadful desires,
Obscuring vision, blackness transpires,
Fading views of the world, moment of truth,
Bestowment of death, trouble of youth,
Lament is the few, who whisper the name,
Obedient to fate, the wanderers blame,
Obsessed with the blood, hearts final cry,
Dawning his last moment, he wonders why,
Todd Monjar Jan 2016
A purple and gold wildcat appears spewing toxic spittle in an anger formed growl,
yet carrying sweet souls to enlightenment and dreams of knowledge and wisdom.
Loading and laughing, unaware their transporter has schemes of entrapment and scourge;
tho’ displacement maneuvers the terror and supposition replaces uncertainty.

Where is the lioness to manage the pride, on their own in an unending expanse of brick and asphalt savanna?
Home, secure in the evolution of time, knowing in parental intuition that cubs will find food;  that universal bestowment slakes a wandering thirst.
Surrogate providers fill their souls with care and culture, edifice and education; creating new and unimagined expanses with layers of fleece and grooming.

There is a prowl although harmless in subjugation to a delightful dance; tamed by civilized possibilities and invincible bloodline caution.
The young lioness realizes a newfound equality in the face of self-important rights of passage; patiently waiting, hunting with her cooperative sisters and feeding manes of observance.

Feline grace becomes the royal presence necessary to trust a new way, to forge an uncharted territory filled with tradition.
New cubs become armed with embellished string theory and a profound sense of purpose, guided by decisions of chance and courage.
Brave, the lioness! Brave the keeper of the cubs, together nurturing innate inference without forethought.
Arrive and be still.
alexa Apr 2018
i'm in need of some love,
heart's in disrepair.
beyond tired of hearing people
say they'll always be there.
even when my tears
are trailing mascara down my face
they still turn away,
leaving nothing but a trace
of who they used to be,
yet another ghost of my past.
when they choose moments to comfort me
the moment i needed it was already gone fast.
how dare they take everything
when they give nothing,
empty promises, half truths
always forgetting lines--they're bluffing.
i have so much
love to give, to receive
how dare they take everything,
all i gave them, and leave?
how dare they leave me behind;
i was the flashlight during their darkest moment,
the unconditional love and guidance i gave--
my utmost bestowment.
i shouldn't be surprised,
i was simply a warm home when they were hungry and cold
well now i'm watching the story
of my betrayal unfold.
i'm in need of some love,
heart's in disrepair.
don't tell me you're gonna stay
if you won't actually "always be there."
this is sloppy & choppy but it's the product of getting words out before they consume you.
My conscience ****** me in sheer hopelessness
Takes me to seek refuge with Allah to hold rope
In sheer disgust suddenly dawns upon me bless
Which is sheer mercy of Lord to come and cope

My heart aches on those who look towards people
And forget Allah for just their own betterment
It is only support in any upheavel to become eagle
So one has to have guided heart for settlement

Presence of Lord makes me strong in weak moment
Allah is so kind and loving that He takes me along
What a beautiful Lord I have and what bestowment
It is unrelenting faith and belief to become sweet song

Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright May 2020 Love Remains
Kody dibble Feb 2015
For the only,
Sense or reason,
I've been in your mind or thoughts,

Greatness flows like the bestowment,
Of collided trusts,
Like a fear slowly clouding your mind,
Or days like never before,

Like joy that has been beckoning,
The birth or revival of thought
Maybe
In the dark we groove for light
Awaiting again the lion's roar
To awaken us from a stupor
A Maniac infuse to our culture
Mislearnig adventures incured by our search
Searching for light with the touch in hand
Searching within the endless tunnels of knowledge
Bellowing our rich forest and mangroves
Bastadizing the deep sea of life bestowment.
True and of a truth...!
Silence is a guide but we lost touch of the hunters skills
Skills that unwind the pantheon, crossed the hyaenea
And put paid to the antics of the Foxes
Our quest is  now an inquests
Following the foxes of  this sphere in a hide and seek dance
A salient dance of alienation between the Hunter and the antelope.
Will the lion ever roar again..?
Chinua Achebe, Kofi Awenora,Senghor, Bongo Mbeti,
Dennis Brutus, Alex La Guma, Anthol Fugar
Nelson Mandela, Cyprain Ekwensi,
Christopher Okigbo and now Gabriel Okara
....And other great lions
Living and dead whose roaring sounds
Cascades our spheres and beyond.
The great lioness;
Bessie Head,  Nardi Gordimar,Mariana Ba,
Mabel Segun, Amata Aido,, Doris Lessing
Helen Oviagere, Buchi Emecheta.....!
Your breast has not dried up yet
And your ******* still drips with milk of knowledge
Only we lack sulking skills to quesh the hunger and thirst
We cry for trivialities searching for food outside our barns and homesteads
We long and thirst for great sayings with Witt
Idioms with Music accomplishments to rummage deep into our marrow
Pickerng into our very being .....Healing!
We long for the roaring Lions
Seeking sounds to penetrate deep into our  persons
We long for true words and essences
Piercing through  the very depths of our soul

Written by
Otuogbodor Okeibunor  Abuja, Nigeria
— The End —
Roland Oct 2018
It’s quite a common practice as many can testify
To be compared to our fellow no one can ever deny
Passed from one another either subconsciously or intentionally
It ought to bring out the best that a person is expected to be
They say it’s the driving force and it’s only for a good motive
And against every other person we have to be competitive
But what of the side effects of the act that are usually overlooked?
Within one’s self doubts, anxieties, and negativity end up getting hooked
Some overcome it although the inner scars will always show
And to others, it even takes a longer time to recover from its blow
Making ones light dim by the one who should be beholding
As hard as the butterfly that can’t even see the beauty of its wings
Being led to success is said to justify the act itself
But what of those who fall short and end up in oblivion's shelf?
With uncertainty eating away their own self worth
Indeed, it would seem miraculous if their confidence gets a rebirth
Tis not to say that the act no longer has any good to offer
It just needs to be aimed at something else to be seen clearer
No one else but to who or what someone was in their past
An almost surefire way to make the appreciation of it last
Realizing that one’s past shelf should be that which we must rise against
The right fuel in which the fire of betterment should be incensed
Remembering that like the sun and the moon shine according to their time
Refusing to yield to certain pressures isn’t always a crime
For each one there will always be that appointed moment
Which one sees their visions fulfilled like an act of bestowment
It may not be at the point on which it’s expected
The coming will always end up as something commemorated
Such thought is a reminder of the ever present good intention
When one finally knows how to best use comparison as motivation.
Crystal Freda Oct 2017
What He did
will never be forgotten.
What He did
will never be forsaken.

What He did
was a precious moment.
His suffering
will always be a bestowment.

Getting to know Him
because He survived.
Our hearts have embraced,
flourished, and thrived.

His blood
beats through our soul
lingering to our body
and transforming us as whole.
October – November 6th, 2020

I.
To Channel the Wisdom of a Prophet
While Reading Elegant English Sonnets
It Would be a Wonderful Power
One I’d Long to Share at Every Hour
With My Gift – Every Poem I Peruse Would Transcend
Far Beyond the Dead Laureate’s Pen
The Eras of Ancient England – I’d Showcase their Scenery
And My Listeners Would Fantasize with Me
II.
Together, We’d Stumble Atop the Rocks of Wales – Where Cuts & Scrapes would Scar Our Ankles
We’d Witness a Sea of Mist, & Get Lost in a Labyrinth
During our Crest to the Summit of Mt. Snowdon
But We’d All Prevail, and Entail the Trail
We’d Rub our Goosebumps and Click our Teeth – Until We Reached the Final Peak
There the Sun Would Strike My Voice – And All My Listeners Would Rejoice
Warmth would Melt the Water off Our Clothes
The Shock of the View would Scare Our Shivers Aside
We Couldn’t Help but Be Wide-Eyed – Seeing God’s View of the ***** Incline
Serenity would Blanket Our Essence, as We’d Gaze at a Hundred Hills Below Us
What an Adventure We’d Be On – A Present from the Pantheon
We would have Explored a 19th Century Endeavor, One of William Wordsworth’s Treasures
III.
Soon We’d Watch Nightfall Descend
Having Gone Beyond the Mountain’s Climb, We’d Give Ear to the Evening Chimes
The Ringing Wind Would Chill Our Cheeks, and it Would Whisper to Us . . . Look Over Our Brows
Ensconcing on the Stones & Grass, My Concertgoers and I would Sit & Rest
We’d See the Solstice Moon Above – In a Blend of Agate So Lustrous & Loved
Clouds Made by Masons would Veil Luna’s Light
A Silver Paint-Stroke would Streak the Sky – Twinkling Our Sight with Great Delight
Translucent & True, the Haar of Adam’s Ale would Act to Capture Our Visions
Our Joys Would be Leaping, Our Features All Beaming, Our Lips Endlessly Grinning
A Zephyr Would Cast Every Care Away
The Breath of Rain would Susurrate to the Top of the Mountain
And the Breeze Would Murmur, Frost is on the Horizon
Then With that, We’d Give a Few Involuntary Shudders
Cascading Snowflakes would Descend on Our Starry-Night Shoulders
Its Water Would Pierce Us Like Pins
But in the Serenity of Selene, an Unseen Star-beam Would Warm Us
In the Lake of the Lost Sword Beneath Snowdon’s Feet – Steam Would Rise like the Ring of Fire
Its Heat Would Give Us the Strength to Endure the Chilly Weather
The Eerie Blossoming of Darkness, Created by Percy Shelley’s Madness – Would be a Blessing For All of Us
IV.
My Stanza-Seekers & I Would Gaze at the Celestial Maze
Dwelling in the Time of the Evening Tide
Smiling & Enjoying the Moment, Awaiting More Community Bestowment
I’d Grasp My Breath, and Look at the Rocks Below
And in the Moonlight, A Spiderweb Would Catch My Sight
My Concertgoers and I Would Bend to Our Knees, and Watch it Bob in the Breeze
Our Eyes would Seek the Spinner of Silk, and We’d Find Her in the Center of the Ilk
Envisioning the Land, Each One of Us Would Stand Upon her Soft Yet Sturdy Sand
For Life on a Spiderweb would Never Be Dull – We’d Be Captains Always Making Our Calls
Recognized as Keepers of the Protein Warrens, with Memories of Each & Every Direction
Flies would Be Our Fish & We’d Hunt for their Meat
When Caught in Our Mesh, Our Prey Would Always be Fresh
The Daylight, Sky, & Stars would be Our Sundials
Living in the Open Air – Wind Eternally Blowing in Our Hair
Raindrops would Spring Mountaintops – Building on Our Pathways
Around Us – Everyday Would Be of Great Height
The Web of Our Weaving Would Hold So Much Meaning
Each String would Be an Expansion of Our Passion
Inside Christina Rosetti’s Realm, where the Cold & Lonely Dwelled
We’d Find Embracement, Like Missionaries’ Ears to their Church Bells
V.
Gaping at the Mountain’s Peak
My Discerners of Verse would Gaze with Me – Listening to the Whispering Waves of the Irish Sea
Skipping Winds on the Water would Leap into the Air, And We’d Feel them in a Breeze Oh So Fair
All and Sundry Would Rise, With the Gale Great, Divine & Innate
At Our Side, Birds would Fly, We’d See Peregrines, Ravens, & Merlins in the Sky
Travelling Beyond Snowdon’s Summit, We’d be Spellbound by Astonishment
Soaring Beneath Pearls in the Night’s Azure
Twisting Inside Zephyrs, Seeing the Water-Gloss Portraits of the Marine
It Would Be a Sensational Scene
My Fellow Flyers & I would Watch Our Mirrors Ripple in the River, & We’d Make a Weave for the Trees
Around Every Oak, We’d Swing & Swerve, Until Snowdon was on the Horizon
My Adventurers & I would See Honey-Bugs at their Promised Sites
Where the White Tongues of Lilies would Open for their Nectar, & Reveal Fireflies in their Centers
Rays of Daybeams would Shoot from the Poppies, Crystals would Perch from Every Sundew
Losing Our Breath to Endless Wonders, Our Elevation would Spring with So Many Colors
Suspending Ourselves Mere Inches Above Ground
My Stanza Seekers & I would Sway Between the Rocks, Flowers, & Leaves – Until We Returned to the Crest
Then We’d Levitate Down for a Rest, Suspiring After Our Visit to Nature’s Breast
We’d Lay on the Hard Surface of Stone – Starring up at the Stars
In Our Lounging, Recounting the Incites of Robert Browning, it would be a Bittersweet Parting
VI.
Fantasizing Down on the Imaginary Ground, Each One of Us Would Draw a Breath
With Sighs Ever So Deep, the Dream would Descend
We’d Return from Our Imaginary Climb
My Paramours of Poetry & I Would Open Our Eyes
We’d Find Ourselves Sitting on Our Carpets of Lea, and I’d Hold My Book of Anthology
I would Have Reached So Many Listeners,
Every Lip would be Curved, Every Mind Transfixed
Still Lost & Mesmerized by Snowdon’s Secrets
Remembering the Words that We Hale, & All the Tales of Wales
My Chance to Channel, there Would Be No Greater Gift
To Share the Wisdom of the Poem’s Swift
Bumble Zee Jun 2020
You're the life and soul of the party
You fill my mind with inspiration
You give my poetry a purpose
Filling my senses with a euphoric sensation

You're a carefree bird flying in solitude
I fell into the trap and became your prey
Unable to set free, you gripped firmly
But you didn't know, I wanted to stay

You caught my attention at the first glimpse
I became yours at that very moment
You were oblivious to my desires
But I gave you my life in bestowment

I was captured by your looks and charm
But you opened up and taught me real beauty
I didn't know the meaning of true love
Then I understood, loving you is my God given duty
David R Feb 2021
Hope stretches out his feather'd wings,
From amidst the shadow,
From the depths of deep earth springs,
from the clouded meadow.

Hope stretches out his feather'd wings,
Sets off in flight,
He soars the skies, his soul sings,
All's light 'n bright.

Hope he kvells with each moment
of the rushing of the wind
as the gods rich bestowment
as the music of woodwind

There's darkness down below but
His eyes are focused high,
It seemed the heavens were closed shut
But now they're open wide.

The rains are rainbows golden,
Showering iridescence,
There was darkness down below but
It's part of Omnipresence.

The rising, silent musics
Glide in cerulean thrill,
The darkness down below was
but the shadow of green hill.
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#kvell
SkyeWolfe Dec 2018
Joy
Joy is but a vapor
Little more than wind
We feel it for a moment

I can feel it taper
As life goes to it's end
Stopping it's bestowment

Joy is but a vapor
Universe Poems Sep 2021
Tomorrow
No today
That reality,
is far away
A moment,
bestowment,
onto you
A life
Salient factor
Remarkable capture
What can't be changed,
should not be in your range
Instead focus on what,
needs to be done,
making you happy,
before your sleep will come,
or sitting for a moment,
when nothing needs to be said,
accept relaxing thoughts,
in your head
Focus on what is needed,
to be done,
so you can enjoy,
each moment,
as it may come

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
tina kimi Jan 2020
Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,
He whose name is Counsellor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand.

written by Linda Sandell
#she wrote it after she witness her father drowning #this is now a Christian hymn song composed by Oscar Ahnfelt
Gratitude
My sweet God you are so kind that I can't explain
In every disaster you saved me like a mother
With your love and kindness comes but no disdain
You love me always kept kept me undercover
You saved me and my son from a dangerous situation
I love you I love you to the utmost of my power
I am grateful to you always for my well being ,salvation
Your patronage remained a solace in need of hour
I bow my head heart and soul in sheer bestowment
Mercy have no words no tears with honestyto reciprocate
Love carries along in this magnetic love moment
Being more frank straightforward my Creator is Great
It is a miracle that my son survived from corona virus
I congratulate him for a new life granted by God
Salut to magnamity of my Lord for converting crisis
To a wonderful complete relief for His soldier ward
Colonel Muhammad Khalid
Copyright July 2020 Love Remains

— The End —