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"benison" poems
A poesy to those who earn a life of little recognition. Beneath the fabric of the world’s tainted expectations, lies what many fail to explore, few discover and the luckiest cherish. Blessings that cannot be traded, bought, nor sold. A benison unable to become impoverished. Gifts that grow and sprout delicious fruit. A colossal heart of gold. The hue’s of their soul glows intoxicatingly bright, and guide those in the dark. A benevolence whose warmth is palpable to the lives of those surrounding them, with out a demand, and only a thirst to love. With unfamiliar brilliance, these people fall anonymous. Many of the carriers unaware of what beats within. Blind to the beautiful wake of life trailing behind their actions. They smile as if nothing has been done, where everything has. Their inspirational hearts, when noticed shine so much beauty, you’re left in bewilderment. As skepticism fades, cynicism falls, hate dulls, and questions are left with answers. As fear is replaced by freedom. You watch the kindness ask for nothing, as only a desire to follow remains.
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Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
Heart of Gold
Here lies my dog, motionless in his kennel unable to wag his tail as he always did. Yesterday when I saw him, curling helpless on his mat he still wagged his tail and from him arose a faint tremolo of love punctuated by gutturals of pain. At some bleak hour of the night, the last ember of life died down and his supple body turned stiff and stark. Now he lies straight and majestic in death leaving a track record of love far difficult to break, - a love no vessel can hold or equated with what we humans feel. Speechless as I stand, memories churn within. He came to us - too young to be weaned, a glossy black puppy with tawny gleaming eyes. His short, sturdy limbs, large drooping ears, slender waist and elongated frame well proclaimed his pedigree aloud So full of mischief, he capered and hopped, like a new born calf, always up on his heels. Sniffing with moist nose, he dug and dug as if unearthing a treasure trove buried deep beneath the soil. With alert vigil, he guarded our home, barking at strangers and driving rodents away He expected nothing in turn but love. His loyalty as we deem was never servile. Never was he on chains to be hauled like cattle. He enjoyed sauntering through the courtyard giving company as we took our evening rounds. He gloated rubbing his body over our knee and sat content as our stroking fingers ran all around Licking our feet and arms, what he conveyed in inarticulate words could be deciphered thus - ‘I love you, love you true’ Like the bouncing ball, he often played with our hearts made to bounce up in love and our hands fold in benison for a comrade who departs, valiant in life and loyal to the core hoping to meet him anon on the far green meadows of bliss, still wagging his tail, avowing a bond too strong to be snapped or splintered.
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
A Tribute to my Dog
Here lies my dog, motionless in his kennel unable to wag his tail as he always did. Yesterday when I saw him, curling helpless on his mat he still wagged his tail and from him arose a faint tremolo of love punctuated by gutturals of pain. At some bleak hour of the night, the last ember of life died down and his supple body turned stiff and stark. Now he lies straight and majestic in death leaving a track record of love far difficult to break, - a love no vessel can hold or equated with what we humans feel. Speechless as I stand, memories churn within. He came to us - too young to be weaned, a glossy black puppy with tawny gleaming eyes. His short, sturdy limbs, large drooping ears, slender waist and elongated frame well proclaimed his pedigree aloud So full of mischief, he capered and hopped, like a new born calf, always up on his heels. Sniffing with moist nose, he dug and dug as if unearthing a treasure trove buried deep beneath the soil. With alert vigil, he guarded our home, barking at strangers and driving rodents away He expected nothing in turn but love. His loyalty as we deem was never servile. Never was he on chains to be hauled like cattle. He enjoyed sauntering through the courtyard giving company as we took our evening rounds. He gloated rubbing his body over our knee and sat content as our stroking fingers ran all around Licking our feet and arms, what he conveyed in inarticulate words could be deciphered thus - ‘I love you, love you true’ Like the bouncing ball, he often played with our hearts made to bounce up in love and our hands fold in benison for a comrade who departs, valiant in life and loyal to the core hoping to meet him anon on the far green meadows of bliss, still wagging his tail, avowing a bond too strong to be snapped or splintered.
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Down the dusty road, in tattered rags, He came, weary, wilted, and withered. Body bent with age, bones sticking out of the flabby skin, with a tremor running down his limbs, and with expectant eyes, He waited at my doorstep. No words came out from pursed lips But, in mute language begged for alms. I held his shrivelled hand, helped him ascend the steps. Like a child obeying it’s Elder He sat on a chair in the patio. The sumptuous fare, served before, he surveyed with eyes bulging out in utter disbelief, and greedily devoured every bit of morsel. A rare gleam lighted up his face. With hands folded in benison He stood up and silently took leave. I watched him stumble along the country track and fade away in the distance. Ripples of joy stirred my mind in ever widening circles as, a pebble idly tossed cause ripples in still waters ................ Over a random act   of kindness idly tossed.......
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Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
Ripples
Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen.
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1.4k
A Child’s Grace
She was always always so cute. She never stopped smiling, she never stopped eating, and she never, ever was mute She liked her baths cold not to say frigid, an ice cube or two was nice, banana was good, strawberry was better, but what really inspired her was rice. Fascinated couples would look from wherever they were, as into her meal she would start, a benison here, a benison there for her moving rice was an art. And so I leave you a short tale of a child, who took up a lot of our space. She never was meek and she never was mild, A gift of a girl by God’s grace.
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Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Coco. Years Three & four
Like Lazarus, I sat on The Mansion House steps: a citizen of  The City gave me the bus fare to St. John’s, Waterloo. Underground I dived. Surfaced and sheltered by the church portico I learned that a beggar is nothing more than the passive recipient of a stranger’s kindness. When I was hungry you gave me food; water when thirsty. My clothes were gifted, shelter you found for me. Kind were  your words. For these comforts I lift up my hands no longer in distress but benediction: gifting as poor return all that you gave to me. Blessed are the Merciful, for they will receive Mercy. Deo Gratias! Tony Brady
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Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC
A Beggar's Benison
Life has full of scrambles Not to loose all these rivals Even all are like the sharp prongs Struggles can make you truely strong How to vanquish all these battles? Resilience and grit are best examples Don't wait for dear God's benison It might not come like devine saction Well equipped your focused mind Combine all strengths to get behind If you don't succeed at the end of the day Listen "Let it be" is the best way Wai Phyo Win [ 21 March 2019 ]
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Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 6:01 PM UTC
Equanimity
Waking up in valorous conduct/ aware of my impetuous commitments/ I long for awakenings when my eyes seem to be open/ Misinterpreting a reality I can’t untangle/ Trying to bring about the moments that brought me most happiness by force/ Valiant to go against my deepest rejections/ Alone in the moments we belong together in/ To think my art was stymied by your love/ Selfish me, couldn’t see it took a selfless “Sweet” to redeem our forever ever after/ (Interruptions from the tip of my ego) (Getting the best of my fragility, I’m not tough) In shambles after processing what once was, actually was/ Questioning the will my mental grip strength had during changes I never wanted to face/ Your love, like pummeling fists dodged my ignorance/ Careless and regretful, the silence is filled with what “was”/ Ashamed, but perhaps a benison in development.... through the pain/
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Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
through it all
brief introductions, skipping fining judgments and unconsciously accepting regret some days later; i should’ve known better. . . anna is a narcissist. jerome is a hipster. kenneth (also a hipster) wants to be the alpha all the time when it comes to movies. anthony’s a poet, at least considers himself to be one because he writes and stupid girls loves his generic works. marianne thinks of herself sharp and has nothing to say but “cliche” on art pieces that she doesn’t like, pretentious as **** just because kath graduated from one of the well-known universities the world has ever known, her opinions and views about everything must be and should be golden. olivia who seemed to be a kid at heart, turns out to be a cock-loving ****** of all sorts. jacob who’s good at playing guitar is a self-indulged narcissist and thinks that anyone who’s not as good as him or plays in band like he does can’t join he and friends’ “clique,” like hell it would mean the world to me to be a part of those phonies. professor richards who teaches literature disapproves of my favorite writers, also a phony. benison is a bully with nuts for brains. to hell with this, and i’m a pacifist who’s judgmental.
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Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
it doesn’t take that long to know..
“I dream; therefore, I am,” said the sage. \ Will my dreams come to fruition? \ I beseech Jah, The Transcendent One \ That I might attain the fulfillment of the promise. \ When Jah & Jesus sought \ To consecrate me \ I resisted them, \ I did not fathom myself worthy. \ I was enfettered by my Sea of Iniquities \ & unable to disentangle, liberate myself \ From the onerous & lethal wages \ Of Sin & Death. \ But now I have been emancipated, —experienced manumission \ By the Hand of The Deific Divine: \ My dreamcatcher, \ My salvific benison. \ To The Transcendent Dreamcatchers: \ Thank you for life, love, liberty, & your embrace. \ —You are Freedom, you are The Emblematization of Emancipation, you are The Insignia of Liberty; \ Therefore, you grant me the wings to soar. \ Please continue to be my aegis \ Your name being a bulwark against The Nightmarish Wraith of Tremulousness. \ Apropos of your Holy Spirit \ I wield a Bastion Heart. \ (—Se’ lah) 09-26-2025
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 10:11 AM UTC
| Dreamcatcher |
Drops "Drops have inferior time to live But they don't conk hope and willing to give" "Let your memoir lightly dance on the edges of time" "Every drop of water is benison master Ringing chime " "Drops fall on leaf it gleam Elect best spot where thou can dream " "Brisk dew drop freshen core and soul" "Where two drops of water unite befit team attain goal" ✍Written by Rishamjot k Sangha
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Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC
Drops
forgiveness is all to each other our benison there is a tomorrow
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
reality must rule - a haiku for VG