"ancestry" poems
The snowman to the scarecrow, “Hahahaha you’re just a stick figure…. and your hair’s straw.”
The scarecrow to the snowman, “Watch who you talk about whenever you open your mouth, for all the coldness in your words will still melt to the ground along with you as soon as the sun comes out.”
Owned!
“You’re such a chump…” the snowman said… “…two words for your ancestry, tree stump.” the snowman said
“You’re fat… you have a carrot for a nose, and what’s up with that stupid green and red coloured hat?” said the scarecrow
Well played
“I work all year round… you’re here for a season, did you really think you could hold your ground against someone that is here for a reason?” the scarecrow added
The snowman cringed, but then had a comeback
“At least I don’t wear the same filthy clothes every day of the year… what? Are you trying to bring ‘brown’ back?”
Point for Snowman
“It’s better than being fat and going naked.” Scarecrow brought it back
Scarecrow is consistently winning right? I know… I know man!
If he made you a fan, stick around for an autograph… I will throw in mine too
For more on the war of words between these two
Watch this space for round two.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
Hey Human! I am your Sibling.
Queen bee wings are Ripped,
bee niblings are Smoked
For Your Honey Sweet.
Hey human! Listen your Sibling’s Buzz.
Tiger lost bones for Medicine,
Fox lost fur for Fashion,
Sharks lost fins for Soup.
Hey human! Do Not Butcher Siblings.
Simba’s life is not your Trophy,
Jumbo’s tusks are not Decors,
Helmets of Hornbills are not jewels.
Hey human! Do Not Reap Siblings.
Emperors of ice continent lost land,
Economics is making Amazon less,
Logging makes Orangutans homeless.
Hey human! Do Not Invade Siblings.
Warm oceans bleach corals,
Water depleted in cities,
We ingest plastic regularly.
Hey human! Do Not Desert the Earth.
Overfishing is holocaust of aquatic life,
Livestock levitates toxic emissions.
Hey human! Do Not Prey on Siblings.
Lichens stunned by pollution,
Symbionts are disintegrating,
Biodiversity is declining.
Hey human! Be Together with Siblings.
Hey Human! We are Offsprings of Mother Nature.
Monera, Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protista
all have common roots.
We are branches of the one Phylogenetic Tree
rooting Common Ancestry unto LUCA.
Hey Human! We are Siblings.
Hey Human! Recall your Siblings.
Hey Human! Revive your Siblings.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
i.
Beset next to me
Coadjuvant to mine need's;
I couldst not asketh for more
Mine Reyna's all do I believeth.
ii.
She compasses me in Dwarf Daylilies
Her suntanned dermis is momentous;
Wallowed in her oversea's memories
A throne surpassing, Hari and Reyna scented.
iii.
In Luzon, the older part of the firma
Betwixt the Cordillera Region, see through pneuma's;
Hand-poke tool's, for me and mine dynasty amour'
To get tattoos, of her ancestry upon her own shore's.
iv.
Covered head to toe
By these inked protection's;
Spelling out the word's
Brandon and Jane's resurrection.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication/Reyna of mine soul
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
There's history in my hair please don't touch, handle with care.
It's the same as this perfect pigment,
this melanin I wear
Richly rooted in my blood
Whether dark or fair
Sun kissed and kinked in bliss
More love for my 'rough n tough Afro puff'
She shines like the Sahara sun
She smells like the salt of the Gold coast sea.
Theres a hint of the bittersweet seed of the cocoa tree.
Feels like the pillow that holds all your dreams with the dry Harmattan wind brushing against your cheek
She'll whisper secrets of the motherland.... If you get close enough
She holds like Mina
Curls with pride
Falls with grace and integrity.
Stubborn like the struggle of the ones before me.
Gravity defying masterpiece that's just a single piece of me, a reminder of my ancestry.
It's my glory, my covering
Don't take it lightly, don't misunderstand, I'm a work of art so please peep but just don't touch.
© Raphaela Israel Öbeñg
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
Humility and Humiliation
Are first cousins of a sort.
When they roll off my tongue,
They seem identical twins, or
If not siblings
At least sharing some common ancestry.
But after they flee my mouth,
The resemblance ends.
Humiliation is designed by others
Their words twist, morph, bend, break.
Until the face I see,
When I look in the mirror,
No longer belongs to me.
Humility, however,
Comes from within.
No tongue can give it life,
Not even my own.
Humility is an acceptance,
Not a rejection,
Of who I am,
Who I am not.
To be
Humble,
Is to simply
Be.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
The equilibrium of the ecosystem is challenged by the rites of the 11th Century Norsemen. Smell the pine in the forests of North America where the dream catcher swings in the branches of the misty Boreal forest.
We must never forget in our futile plight for supremacy, that the roots of trees are deeply connected to the annals of history where contemporary grandiosity is a mere mirage of what we call sophistication.
Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is where Johann Sebastian Bach communicated his message as clear as the cries of those who were slaughtered in the Highland Clearances. Parallel octaves of our Viking ancestry are firmly established and will never be altered despite the quests of the New World Order.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
It’s time to discover your roots
Your heritage from the very beginning
History in the making being an inning
Being surprised in what you will find out
You mighty have somebody famous that you want to know more about
Now gather your research and see what you find out
Perhaps your roots date back to a craftsman who designed something unique
Maybe a celebrity figure who has reached their peak
Then later you find out they also tweet
Maybe a slave who was part of the plantation war
Ancestry eye heritage into another
Physical portrait of the other
Heritage that gave you a start
Your life was creation being a new mark
Heritage from yesterday
Destiny being your journey
Your future prepared from the very beginning
Your past too help you preserver on
A moment of reflection, “Knowing how to get along and knowing in life in where you belong”
A distance journey ever after with tomorrow having a defined meaning, and with the conquest of information too what has been longing.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
I think it’s important to make peace with your long line of perpetually confused and self-indulgent ancestry once grasping at and fumbling through a life at which they, preceding you, assumed they occupied the centre of and sought to prove this to mostly anyone, with rapacious might and puerile visions of their own success story, which no matter how successful would always only occupy the dark corners of their blood-successors’ historical records of themselves, which is to say you, adding them up with other people who were once important to them and stuffing them into some numerical equation on which they occupy the left, and you the right side of the equal-sign, but all of which exists in the vast and endless vicissitude of spinning void, of which you both (and us all) occupy some cosmic equivalence (and importance) of the universes stray skin-cell, somewhere on the foot perhaps, unconsidered and left alone until we all disappear into the casket of an unrecorded history.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
The cemetery was my circus I found
After outgrowing fantasy and the playground.
Golden afternoons in the country after school,
My blood having no resemblance, no ancestors,
To all the Sutton's and Smotherman's and Suddeth's
Who here resided with Tennessee pride. Inside and outside.
The still silence of my childhood cemetery carried an eerie air. I wanted to be here.
The peaceful calm, it called me back,
The king cawing crow, attending in black.
As for any of the lost, perhaps content, Confederate souls,
Who have yet to cross over, lamenting or dozed.
I suspect now, that it was I who startled those ghosts.
My blood, my frequency, my scent of the coast,
Sent from a Union ancestry my vibration still boasts...
How unexpected was I to those Tennessee ghosts.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)
“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally
“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip
~
the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
who can grow others who can feed
who can sustain multiple living creatures
each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code
these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance
this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?***
*I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom*
7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
A lion,
born in a western world
caged and tamed to follow a system
History of its ancestry runs deep in its veins
Pain drained and forgotten,
for aspiring to fame to escape from the bottom
got caught in the game
And the path to fame was floppin’
Started shottin’, plottin’ schemes for currency
To fulfil its dreams of living free
But obstacles arise,
disguised as necessities
time consuming tasks that mask the truth
Bill bills money power
No time to stop sinking deeper every hour
Bills bills money power
No time to stop
..And appreciate nature, flowers,
Bills bills money power
Bills bills money power, power,
Power is suttin they’ll never have
cause powers that be, mediate a mentality
that’s blind and cant see
Busy concentrating,
contemplating 'bout money when
energy should be spent on education,
cause knowledge is power,
And power is creation
Innovation of new and, wonderful things,
And, some do wonderful things
But this lion, inside is crying
Was hard as iron, but finds he’s dying,
Spending time on petty crimes,
Chooses to sit at the back of the bus,
And cuss his friend with the word
******
Talkin’ bout gun trigger,
For fun I figure its dumb,
But makes sense,
When he’s watching 50 Cent talk nonsense.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
With the frailty of a butterfly
Books for warmth, fading out like old photographs
Antique white skin
Brassy bloodied cheeks
A swarm of dragonflies laces my face
Ancestry nightfall, ghosts of the drowned
Faded gnarled patchwork, eating away my mind
Limbs of the tree growing out of me
Divided from everyone else
Inside the pinwheel blindfolded
Wading through hours and days
A slave to this disease
It's the only one that I breathe
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC
Often times I’m staring
Awing in the curves of full blooming lips
Carved jawbone covered with deepening dark moss
The journey through the damp forest after warm rain
It is all awake alive and breathing clearly
Rising and falling like the rare drops from deciduous leaves
I cannot tell you how inhuman you feel to me
Your skin darkens around your eyes from nights up
Long evenings too many and whiskey that never even made it to a cup
Sometimes I cannot break a gaze from the casement around your pupil
The pools of honey drip further toward me
My feet find it impossible to remove themselves
So much like quicksand but sweet calming and warm
Smooth and simplistic in youth the way skin drapes
Hangs over structured bones in the most phenomenal way
Just as your eyes are lavished in graham brown
You stay glowing even in the cold weather from blessed ancestry
Down to tender arteries and muscle where I’ve placed lips a thousand times
Shoulders swoop outwards like broad boulders
Distinguishable markers play connect the dots toward inked surfaced skin
Permanence of scarred lines forming a hot air balloon and anchor pulling it down
It’s from your favorite band, I’m noticing synapses collide on the concept
Elongated extended vines lead to tools that hold and create masterpieces
Strong slender hands with fingertips that press and pluck strings
Coat themselves with paint on late evening or early mornings
Tread lightly on my skin and illuminate my face with a coaxing touch
You are the rain forest from sunrise
My heart thumps to the sense of danger behind a corner
But I know such things and if they were to **** me,
I would be treasured in becoming a tall Kapok
With roots buried miles deep
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
Many mornings now,
as day opens its sky eyes
to early sunlight,
Silence pervades all that I am,
or might ever want to be.
Speaking is natural, and life goes on,
but for the tug on my heart,
to go deeper, ever deeper
into the ocean of silence.
Ancient lands of my ancestry
are calling me
to come home now
and
be near the sea.
My own sea, salty and blue,
red rocks plunging
into stormy union
with ultramarine.
Be that I was selkie, I was mermaid,
I know these places where I lived and loved,
breathing underwater in perfect, silent freedom.
Perfection, a sidhi,
might be,
to live as a sadhvi selkie.
Knowing timelessness
through ancient, silent wisdom,
feeling, loving, living
and swimming in unboundedness.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
*“If people bring so much courage
to this world the world has to ****
them to break them, so of course
it kills them. The world breaks every
one and afterward many are*
strong at the broken places."
A Farewell to Arms,
Ernest Hemingway
<>
struggling with so much,
then this scripture of writing sent
by some unfamiliar, a providential
provider; and I am realized, this man
is broken in ways you have no idea,
can~not comp~re~hend
understanding floods, healing
required, for I too have been killed,
my trust and beliefs, trashed,
too many fools who think that
moral equivalence is a thing,
that the unspeakable is justified,
hatred makes me so broke so low,
how,
justification is not justice,
nor an excuse to do whatever
cross the street, and believe,
that drivers will honor a red,
a stop sign, but plenty think
this don’t apply to me, not me
getting on the back of a line
is for fools, people who cannot answer
the arrogant question of the insistent
“Do You Know Who I am?”
I know who I am, yet the ponderance
of evidence says that is not enough,
I
am insufficient,
I am less
than human,
I am
undeserving,
because of my
ancestry
And I will spare you the precise definitions of these statements,
for it should be unnecessary, you should be nodding in agreement, clear eyed understanding, intuitive, in your own broken bones felt!
But,
my bones are broken, and the healing needs a source, a “see here”
directive, explain me how my insane madness is not a proper
responsa to the
weight of hate
my eyes see, seen,
and that my own
eyes
are not lying,
but believed.
but intuitively understood
that my broken bones can be
healed, each in their own way,
so I will retire, perhaps return
when, even if not fully recovered,
sufficient to care enough,
ready to be rebroken, again,
for this! this! is my
true poetic ancestry
thousands of years have not broken us,
and never will, for it is not fear that will
prevent our resurrection, for we immunized,
for what unimaginable have we not known, and yet recovered,
this,
I believe,
my healing will be quiet, solitary, removed
from the distractive noises of invective infecting,
but I will be present,
for my children, and my children’s children will
look to this ancestor and learn that his blood
and bones deeds them the self-healing properties
that always has and always will defeat those
who seek to destroy your future
1) the DNA of your ancestry
inherited inherent in your bone marrow
and bone tissue is continuously remodeled
through the concerted actions of bone marrow cells
2) Stem cells in your red bone marrow
(hematopoietic stem cells) create red and
white blood cells and platelets, all of which
are components of your whole blood.
so here is our truth:
when,
***The world breaks every
one and afterward many are
strong at the broken places!***
our whole blood will replenish us
Nov 17, 2023
Nov 17, 2023 at 10:09 AM UTC
Let your family be
What you want it to be
Whom you wish it to be
Your feet are your soil
Your life is your tree
Your soul deserves
To be happy
Fall into the feeling of love
Love can be like flying
Spill into the meaning of love
Love can be like seeing
Drop into the value of love
Love can be like breathing
Dive into the sound of love
Love can be like singing
Dip into the light of love
Love can be like swimming
Tumble into the touch of love
Love can be like dreaming
Plunge into the power of love
Love is truly believing
Love is like flowers
Trusting we
Inhale Love
Exhale Love
Flying
Seeing
Singing
Breathing
Dreaming
Swimming
Everlasting
Inhale Love
Exhale Love
May your clan
May your tribe
May your friends
And ancestry
Always be
With
You
In
Prayer
Meditating
Blow out flowers
That surround
You and your
Chosen
Family
Tree
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
Forever and longer, from
a time long before this one,
we are souls drawn together
in a rare and deep love.
Not always seeing eye to eye,
always, eventually, seeing into the
heart of each other, into the place
where being is all there is.
Our bonds of blood,
and an ancient, hybrid
ancestry braid continuity.
Breathing into the starry interstices
of this infinite correlation, living
within this web of connectivity,
we are never fully apart.
You are my brothers, and forever
will not be long enough to love you.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
Looks like the law is outdated
And life is ******
The wrong traits tainted
Why millions don't make it
And elite want the nations brain dead
Tell the truth get incarcerated
Tell a lie and get elected
Educate yourself and be objective
Inspire and be creative
Leave a canvas for the underrated
Then the future will be painted
Each style is affective
Every style is effective
Universe is ancestry generater
Life is the relative consumer
While food is sprouting
And humans growing
Then humans nurturing
Law not needed for existing
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
You, you and you
Why do you seem blue?
Must I say you’re amazing
Now trust me, I’m not the only one that is praising
You have already beaten the odds
You are alive not from the gods
But you and your strong persistent ancestry
You and them have this unique chemistry
So powerful, that you are alive during the present
Which has so much more value than every cent
Your will makes you capable
Which brings you to a fate that is inescapable
A fate that leads you to greatness
Built from a foundation of moral straightness
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never been more frustrated for not remembering a dream:_(
deja vu brought to view
even better this time that was like the twisted flu
an erase my system moonlighted on me frustrate to repeat
sunset a truck corner an autumn lasting in the backseat
forget that the ocean sailed and orange witches golden
a town of ancient camps imagined clean desires and broken
any subconscious stubborn to hold on inner fantasy?
cause me can't reach a fulfill a journey come to and ending duality
violet unaware a desire everlasting bel air
do dreams come true flasher in sharp not matter mere???
bare me the renaissance a century in ancestry fading memory far
pieced in my head puzzled mad realization aiming stars
magnetism the hell it means dungeon and dilemma bolds
sharp steeps deepen the voices running struggles put to the sold
-----ravenfeels
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 5:51 PM UTC
Matrilineality is the tracing of descent
through the female line corresponding
to a societal system in which each person
is identified with their matriline;
– their _mother's_ image –
and which can involve the inheritance
of property and/or titles. A matriline is
a line of descent from
a common female ancestor
to a descendant of either ***
in which the individuals in all intervening
generations are mothers –
in other words, a "mother line".
In matrilineal descent,
individuals belong to the same
group as their mother.
The matriline of historical nobility
was also called the _enatic_ or _Uterine_ ancestry;
From Middle English wombe, wambe,
from Old English womb, wamb
(“belly, stomach; bowels; heart; womb; hollow”),
from Proto-Germanic *wambō
(“belly, stomach, abdomen”),
from Proto-Indo-European *wamp- (“membrane (of bowels),
intestines, womb”). Cognate with Scots wam, wame (“womb”),
Dutch wam (“dewlap of beef; belly of a fish”),
German Wamme, Wampe (“paunch, belly”),
Danish vom (“belly, paunch, rumen”),
Swedish våmb (“belly, stomach, rumen”),
Norwegian vomb (“belly”), Icelandic vömb
(“belly, abdomen, stomach”), Old Welsh gumbelauc (“womb”),
Breton gwamm (“woman, wife”),
Sanskrit वपा (vapā́, “the skin or membrane
lining the intestines or parts of the viscera,
the caul or omentum”).
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
I examine your mugshot
in the domestic abuse records
of Palm Beach County.
I find your eyes bloodshot,
red veins bulging with realization.
Your forehead branded with the lineage
of your rabid male ancestry,
now another criminal, wife beater,
another deadbeat drunk slithering
through the dialogue of strangers who now
know your name but will never see you
face to face, perhaps a potential employer
or candidate for your new wife.
The reputation you crafted
so rigidly, tarnished in your naked expression,
the cyanide of your psychosis
summoned with the smack
of a camera flash.
And I cannot help
but break a smile.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:26 AM UTC