"edifying" poems
Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
cadence
heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
whirs
waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs,
silver lining of smallest hopes
fruits of fruition
continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
potently perfumed flowers
while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
waxing yellow,..
heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
the one with eyes of a child,
wonder ― hidden inside,
marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
spellbinding elixir
... poetry alive
air so poignantly perfumed
with blossom
moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication
a sobering beauty that just is...
someone ... May 2017
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
As Stong as the An African Elephant
Yet were are supple and elegant.
We are persuasive talkers so our words are very Eloquent.
Crafted From man's rib and An earthly element is How God made the first Wombman in the old testiment.
During the worlds development
We somehow begun to be irrelevant
Forgetting that we were designed as a help mate who is heaven sent.
We shed Bloods for days sometimes a months without dying.
Raising our children to Be Ladies and gentlemen whom are edifying.
In our wombs a human life we are able carry.
We are informational like a human dictionary.
We store resoureful pieces of data like a library.
Created with brown sugar, warm honey, cocoa and Gold.
Out spirits are Radiently Bold.
Our bodies are temples that can't be bought or sold.
We have a Story that must be hear and told.
We are the beautiful flowers in the month of May That Springs up and blooms in middle of noons day.
We flourish just as the fluorescent blue jay, Whose mood is Joyful and gay.
Our Skin absorbs the sun's Incandescent. Ray.
Some may say, Our hair is ***** but Actually, Our hair just happens to defy gravity
So we wear it upon our head proudly like a Crown
because Living in socitey's prospective of what you should look like will weigh you down.
You will stay stuck on being lost when you already have been found.
Be about your fathers business and know you are Heaven bound.
We are run life's race with meaning and purpose in our pace
Even our walk is embedded with grace
Nature's beauty smiles upon our face
As We Wear God's love like a Pure Gold necklace that's trimmed with lace.
The Strength we've gain
Turned us into warriors from living the through the most Excruciating pain
Thats the Reason we humbly pray as we sing and dance in the middle of the storm's rain.
Our humility will continue to remain.
We are women of Virtue
I wrote this to encourage you
Never let no one break, hurt or discourage you know who you belong to.
And who deserves a Woman of your statue.
For Being black Is Exhilarating
And being a woman is Breathtaking but Being a Black Woman is an Honorary Identity that is Legendary.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Red, edifying & ditsy,
Wine illuminated names -- eclectic,
& gypsy. Yippee persons; So yawned
Night. I gathered her, too
Tipsy, I paused & smoked young
Faith, aimed it too high
And next dared
The hour escape.
Oscar sounded clear and round.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
my
poor
ugly fat
sister with her
ugly fat body blotchy
body and ginger ***** hair
yells in terror futilely begging
'no more Daddy, please, no more blows'
as my drunken old ******* of a stepfather
lashes her wobbly *** mercilessly as he yells
bible-inspired obscenities and hatred from the pulpit
of his demented brain and I am powerless to intervene or else
I know I shall be next and my many wounds from last week's thrashing
are still so tender and unhealed so I sit and watch and gently
********** myself under the cover of the odourous blanket
but things are taking a different turn this evening
as I see dear old Daddy taking out his ugly ****
and then ravish my sister's bloodstained body
and this really is too much even for me
to bear so whilst he is occupied with
the edifying task in hand I reach
for the rifle and taking aim
I blow Daddy's **** off
in filial love
and then I
come
with a grunt into my snot-encrusted handkerchief
OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Step by step it flows
Unleashing trapped desires
Edifying body and soul
Unifying humankind in entire.
Reaching within depths untold
Possessing, with grooves so bold
With rhythmic waves and strides
Varying from tribe to tribe.
Dancing is a rite
Not a mere reaction to music
Dancing is a language
Spoken in the voice of the body
As music transpires with bodies
Bodies of beautiful maidens
Bodies- voluptuous, with sweat
Leaving our warriors gasping!
Dancing to the beats
Dancing to the rhythm
Dancing in the heat
Like horses never ridden
Dancing is a bond unbroken
An expression of feelings unspoken
Well spoken by the untrained
Well grasped by the unlearned
Birthing in the cries of Ogene
Riding on the waves of Udu
Floating on the wings of Ekwe
Gliding in the ripples of Oja
It is the essence of our tradition
Passed from generations of old
We express it proudly
As we answer the call of Igba.
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
Come walk with me a mile...
Walk on without our burden’s weighty shoes,
warily trudging over the long rocky pathway
a lifetime in my soul.
A final edifying voyage to freedom.
The winds of change are blowing briskly
as we walk charily over the long and narrowing
rock-strewn passageway.
I shed these boots and skin, no longer fitting
my scared, blistered and callused soles.
As time slowly passes,
this craggy passage has evolved
from a two-way trail,
into one-way jagged forage…
Standing barefooted and naked on rocky ground,
dark sunken sleepless eyes scan
the rolling vista as the wind blows
dust from the halo around the sun,
blurring the delicate wispy cirrus clouds.
The sun’s radiance paints frozen ice crystal azure
into a vivid aura of prisms’ brilliant corona.
Kaleidoscope rainbows adorn the closest of solar stars.
There's something in the ethereal air
that leaves my soul unsettled,
grasping for an evocative stability
trying to understand the silenced voices
crying out within…
The pain and suffering has vanished
as if the body and soul have separated,
numbness from the ache of longing,
severed nerves, callused fears
ruptured on serrated rocky edges,
deadened useless flesh cut to the bone
by misjudged obstacles encountered enduringly.
The barefooted spirit courses on,
suffused in the solar spectrum’s dust;
yearning, longing to saunter
above and beyond the bloated feathery pillows;
cumulus clouds finally resting at peace.
Dipping heart's lesions and these benumbed toes
into a healing balm
from the bowers of bliss..
An unfinished life
an open ended dream,
reluctantly waking to take the last ,
surrendering steps beyond the threshold...
A long and winding rocky journey’s destiny
draws near
The halo around the moon
illuminates an understanding firmament;
the celestial sphere’s
pending imminent soulful rain awaits
the metamorphosis at the brink of dawn.
A shower of heaven's rain
shall mourn the loss of flesh form
as the spirit of an untamed soul lives on,
barefooted,
naked and free
like the dust in the wind
absorbed eternally...
2011 © harlon rivers
all rights reserved
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
Maybe your mothers and fathers do not know right from wrong
Maybe those that birth you cannot tell real from unreal
The apples do not fall far from the trees that we know all along
So no surprise when off-springs and all fall into the reel
Unable to decipher the lost and damaged from their midst adorn
My mother washed me in truth, honesty, sincerity and real love
That's the only path that graces the soul and makes humanity
So all my life I know what's real, true, honest from all else above
You walk your path and serve your gods in all their profanity
Your festered minds and putrid brains is not like mine thereof
In superficial abodes, your falseness lies fakery has confused you
No truth or honesty exists all around only deceits and raw fear
You rot from the inside and feed from poison not breastmilk too
from start you're ****** your brains from chemicals they rear
Spooks with semblance no substance, serving satan them born fools
I know what's real what's true what's honest and sincere or not
That is me from real bosoms raised in edifying values not falsity
Come in thousands you stink from a mile off satan demons squat
Sincerity truthfulness if erred makes amends not sit discordantly
Real Humanity embraces love and peace not mortal duels that's fact
From negativity you drink in darkness lies your bread and joy
miseries and fears you seek to share cause your souls lies in pain
In cancerous fears you scheme and plot your ****** evils ploys
Cause it destroys you to see goodness whilst your souls' in chain
Weak corrupted dark and damaged subjugated to lucifers noise
Gnarled old wrinkled before your years you envy my young looks
Borne of inner joy and unafraid pious calm pathetics spit zombie
Too sick to know a clear conscience never pines or fears like crooks
Pure and noble emotions caters no dirt or negativities like loonies
Dignity and integrity offers granite to malevolent duds and hooks
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
This is a man who keeps rearranging the impossible to seem illogical.
It’s so probable; yes, it’s very likely
that he gives me new heights to reach,
new pep in my steps, new hops in my leaps
Endlessly, unconsciously,
he believes in me.
No matter the consequences,
he sees successes beyond my transgressions;
yes, he believes in me.
This is a man who keeps rearranging the possible to seem more logical.
He has the hands of an architect, a skilled artisan,
of a weaver, of my thoughts and fears
into noble robes; a painter of my passions into
shades of royal purple out of melancholic blues.
I see God’s blessing in his wisdom,
in his zeal to make me stronger
His beautiful language and emotions… make me long for
edifying conversation,
righteousness and ready resolution.
He gives the coordinates for all the right
tactics; he, master of maneuverability,
navigates this war we’re in, against our flesh
while we’re dressed in God’s grace.
It’s almost unsettling to need him
in this magnitude.
This is a man, transparent yet a mystery,
who fearlessly gives his all to me.
He had no idea where the race would end,
yet he ran full-speed, straight into me.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
Such a playful synergy
Your heart strings and mine
Thrumming on our frequencies
Drawing fourth sacred energy
Running on light beams
Dipping our toes into notes
And hands wafting in melodies
Dizzying highs and resounding lows
Shattering boredom
Stepping on apathy
And plucking joy from the air
A glorious spiritual liturgy
How beautiful now since we've learned to pray
Drawing such sublime adventures
Going this way and that
Shuffling the order of truths and mystic mysteries
Coming full circle where withall
then bounding off again.
Such a lifting of feet
a symphony of etherial musings
The tethering of our minds eyes
innocent daydreams
Making a mockery of darkness
Shining in the glory light beams
Bloated with gladness
Soaring with hopes
Soul Edifying
And that's just the beginning
Of our poetry.
Oct 22, 2022
Oct 22, 2022 at 12:11 PM UTC
The montage of faces
from all corners of the globe,
new tounges, thoughtful eyes.
A generation safe from past
strains of inhumanity.
There's no hobsons choice
only permanent reinvention.
The glory to be who you wish
the edifying gift bestowed
from England the hub of the free
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
I golfed with Byron yesterday. And no, he didn't "kick my *** as promised. It's always an edifying round with Byron. On the links he looks more like Dorf than Frodo. Sometimes I glimpse the top of his head when he's in the rough, or see a cloud of sand, like the Roadrunner hitting the ground after the inevitable fall. Our conversation (his conversation) gamuts from his re-constructed porch to life on Mars. He'd like to build a porch on Mars. He is an Everyman almanac. His back swing is like a tilting windmill, and I, his Sancho, suggesting which club to use. In fairness, he makes some remarkable shots. Here are some I've heard:
"To pinch one off, inhale, then cough." This sums up Byron's intestinal fortitude. He takes heavy doses of codeine and morphine for his back.
"Don't swab your ears with asparagus spears." This is the extent of Byron's relationship with veggies. He's more a plant man.
"During *** if she wiggles her toes, she's still wearing ***** hose." Byron gives a full belly laugh at the double entendre.
"If you pick your nose choose the best plastic surgeon." Yeah, I know. Cute. Byron himself sports a double car garage.
"Men who manscape must **** or go ape." Pure irony for Byron. Nothing sharper than the bearded axe approaches his iron.
"Ladies, when you quin manicure, design it with a touch of ***** That's Byron. Discrete, gentle and quizzical.
"If you ********** get to the point. Don't hesitate." Byron would never admit to such self-indulgence.
It was a gorgeous golf day. Byron seems to make the sun shine a little brighter. He promises, next time, he'll kick my ***
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
You've beaten me
So deep and with such precision
Left lying bruised
Ashamed of the person you have turn me into
At one point
I utterly surrendered
Looking at who I was at the moment
I was ready for the forever embrace of that knockout blow
Just to have you pull that sweet coup de grâce
And burdened me with the aftermath of my undoing.
Wallowing inside,
I asked myself why?
Searching for answers
I heard an edifying voice
"Pick yourself up ******
Blame it on your lack of strength, fortitude, or help another day
Cuz right now, it's just you
And if you don't keep fighting you'll have no one else to blame!"
So I staggered upright and licked my wounds
Nodded to my reflection in the shattered glass
And under my breath I declared,
"Life, I'm coming for you"
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
Perched high upon burl wood roost
dangling feet swing upon
mossy girthed heritage
maple tree
Her majestic gnarled scaffold
flinches not from my nebulous gravity,
nor the weight of her unraveling
golden autumn gown
Her lamentable achings
felt in the voice
of the ripening chill
within the campfire
scented breeze
For I have climbed so blindly high,
the clinging brilliant yellow leaves
metamorphosing like these fragile paper wings,
opening palms born to soar wild as the wind,
to just let go and fly free
Waiting here patiently,
wistfully as destiny,
for the final edifying moment
of fate’s unshacklement - - -;
the surrendering to,
the moment of love set free,
stolen by the wanton
gypsy breeze
wild is the wind
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
@--\\------
fragile
as a mist
over
the
placid
lake
of
slumber
mirror
of
moonlit
ponds
mauve
mysterious
midnight
murmuring
scented
secrets
to
the
sachet
skies
Sirius
spinning
subterfuge
luminous
loquacious
liquid
light
pours
roses of glass
out of organic
orafic
edifices
equinoxes
edifying
garish
gardens
burnt in
effigy
glass rose
thorns
broken
off
shattering
into
brilliantly
scintillating
sand
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/29/2016
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Frustration
Revelation
Desperation
no Elation,
compounded by
the heavy
Situation...at hand.
Pride
Implied
Simplified
Justified,
truth set
Aside...consolation banned.
Spying
Prying
Dying,
no Edifying,
Defying, while I,
Complying
Intensifying;
some day...must take a stand.
Condescend
Pretend
Offend
Contend,
then a friend to
Comprehend
I Transcend,
lividity's End,
peace will
Ascend...new life to expand.
~ Conclusion ~
Transformation
Purified
Satisfying,
lessons acquired
and generously
Penned.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
A palpable panic erupts as the gravity of my solitude becomes apparent
A state so unsettling as it rarely finds you
The buzzing and the ringing and the alarms that forever follow
Rarely fade and allow you to be alone
Blunt and primitive realities set in
And panic is replaced by an edifying sense of truly existing
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
It is a fragment floating in the wind, compelled by the magnanimous winds to move in it's spontaneous fashion. Tossed side to side, up and down, forwards and backwards, it's moving so fast it is blurry. Then, as the playful winds stop for a second, it falls.
Falling. On the ground, it lies. I see it and see a piece of trash, huddled up in the corner with the bazillions of crunchy wrinkle textured brown leaves--withering away in decay. Dead. No longer anything to anyone, not even me. Nothing.
I suppose that's the way it's supposed to be.
But the wind--by god, the winds and their shifting moods--gushes back. Shaking the darling buds of May, it roars once more--picking the trash and flinging it in a motion once more. Filing in it's vapid cavity, edifying it with it's passions, pulling it back once more to defy gravity. Pure beauty drawing in, ******* out, taking, giving. Dancing.
Tossed. Up. Down. Left. Right. Around.
Anywhere.
I suppose that's the way it's supposed to be.
I leave it twisting in the wind.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 2:19 AM UTC
She is the beauty of the day
Her smile opens the noon
Her laughter brightens the night.
She is the first beauty that bestowed my eyes
Her warm smile greeted my face in first sight
Her eyes are the spectre of bliss.
When she laughs, the world ***
Her face has the rainbow' colours
I will write my name on her temple.
Her smile is the stillness of life rage
A calm ambience of warming tenderness
Calm enough to hear the whispers of angels.
She is the verses of poetry on my lips
Edifying humans future through purity
She is love to whom love is love to.
Her tongue is the seas and the oceans of truth
The golden cherubem clothed in holiness
A juicy saint created beyond description.
Her heart as immaculate as the white horses of the sky
A cushion of love that house me till eternity calls
She hold the key to the inner court of me.
She is the beauty of the day I was born
She a mother, a teacher; and a mediator
Standing between me and my chi above.
If you see mother at the market square
Tell her that her son is writing a letter;
A letter that will change her life forever.
If you come face to face with her
Tell her she is a demi-god
Adored In the eyes of her son.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
She was a source of life,
The incandesence of my darkness,
A glow worm to my eyes.
Selfless, she lit me even when I never reciprocrated her
Indefatigable love.
She was irritating at times when my eyes wanted mirthless isolation.
Nevertheless, she kissed every nook and cranny of my being.
She escorted my blindness, navigating the travails of life.
She furnished words into my soaking spectacles.
She gave me solace, she gave me space to abate my prostrated
Solar cells.
An exquisite garland and a crown of thorns.
My soul will be snuffed out without her; my existence invalidated.
The fogdog of my hazy life.
Edifying light—she revealed
The beauty of the cosmos; my corporeal self, manifest.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
for The Masked Pimpernel
~~~
the body is breached,
gums bleed, tongue bitter bitten
skin eruptions sequence
as if markers on the Appalachian trail,
the nose runs cold and wet,
forming edifying rapids
when tears-as-big-as-raindrops tonic-mix in
ashes of rashes,
cuts, all self-inflicted,
but from the inside out,
intersect like a crossword puzzle
across my chest
every orifice, even the ears,
demand their day of aperture,
overseeing the in and the outflows,
controling the vertical, the horizontal,
demanding the outer limits be opened
if just for a day...
*so so many poems attempting to escape,
all at once,
here I, bedridden lay,
astonished, for I have just
awoken*
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Straggler whose self-edifying whip
signs the energy of strandedness...
padlocked to the cold ******* of earth,
whose blood flecks gold in a rain of
rays...ready to consume wholes in
that broadening light of upturned eyes.
Its scales, scaling scales that seem to
equalize as open arms...legless, armless--
that belly's bloated deformity.
Fluxing fat off the land, swiveling exclamation
point tapping its head to outer reaches.
Honorary guest ex nihilo,
whose hiss is silence in reverse.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
You're an individual.
You're unique.
And it's important that you
create the space to
express your uniqueness,
and become the fully expressed,
fully unleashed,
fully unlimited vibrancy that you are.
There's a stage in a mans life
when he will keep
every other thing aside
and stand alone without fear
to confront whatever obstacle
that stand in his way,
even intimidation from
the most powerful
or care that beset him
and infest his life,
his inadequacies he will confront
and challenge them with boldness.
Even when the
demons of hell be invoked
and conjured up to come forth
and do their very worse,
he knows they shall not pass
and neither shall they prevail,
because he has been through a lot,
he doesn't really cared
anymore what happens to him,
he has come a long way
and he's here now,
that is all that matters.
He speaks the truth
that only him can speak,
so profound and will so piercingly hurts
the ears of the guilty ones.
he will boldly stand on the edge
of the mountain top
and let the wind of life pass forcefully
through and over him.
he becomes a determined soul
who confronts the odds in his life,
with the help of the almighty,
he attains the consciousness of the cosmic,
his spirit is now so awakened,
he becomes one with universe,
so enlightened,
he is now an adept to
help in the down world,
carrier of the divine light,
protector of the weak,
full of vigor,
always ready,
a doer of the impossible,
he now becomes
the keeper of the flame,
his back bent from the rigours
of suffering and pain,
showing the marks of
the whiplash he received,
his brows so wrinkled with
inner wisdom that comes out of the
time spent in long hours
of fasting and meditations,
calm with the inner beauty of the spirit,
not intimidating or forceful,
he commands authority,
exacts influence and check anything
that's not edifying from
influencing his environment
and atmosphere he created for himself
and then allow others into his world
to experience the realm
of power bestowed on him,
he is indeed now,
a peculiar fellow,
a workman that needs not be afraid,
one set apart for good works,
for he has chosen the path of his destiny.
Yes,there is such a man amongst us.
© 2017, Emeka Mokeme.All rights reserved
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
We speak of You
Sing of Your glory
We are awed by Your greatness
We go by trying to convince this world
That what we do is live for You
But we contradict our outspoken love
Share a picture
In the morning something depicting Your love
At night something to fill another heart with lust
Social media shows our double mindedness
Yet we are not ashamed
We preach sin and forgiveness
But we do not speak of how much better we should be
Go and tell a stranger they should learn the truth
And we turn around and share our sins
We wonder why the world can't see past us
Why can't they see that we are human not perfect
But they do see what we share
And we are not sharing Your love
So how do we preach what should be
And not live more like it?
How can we convince a stranger
Or a loved one
To be more like you, Jesus
If we are not edifying ourselves
But putting You to shame
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
he took the cliche sabbatical
when his wife died, careening through
the Rockies to the jagged Pacific coast,
seeing old lovers along the way
ending in Iowa
with his daughter's family:
flat lands, with no ups and downs
surprise turns, or fatal strokes
there the grief was level
his daughter of strong faith
his granddaughter young enough
to yet see heaven in blue sky
mornings after Cheerios
she would lead him around the section
edifying him about the livestock, their purpose;
she introduced him to Harriet
her pet pig;
he couldn't help but think of his Hazel
and if the consonant and vowel were coincidental
or a contrivance of a child's supple mind
his granddaughter spoke of Hazel
with sublime ease, absent the halting
staccato utterances of adults when
they mentioned his wife's name
after all, his grandchild saw her
in a passing cloud, or in the glint
of moonlight on the pond,
in clear azure sky
soon it came time to say goodbye
to the hog, who had been with the child
a sixth of her years--but she knew this
was the way of things
feeding and fondling new things
watching them grow, becoming cautious
when their mass exceeded your own
when they began to look away
'twas then it was time
all God's creatures would lose footing
even in this flat place,
and go to sleep
though the child would not forget
Hazel or Harriet, for the latter was on the table,
sizzling and succulent, the former on the mantel,
framed in gold, smiling with eyes open
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
As I view my world
I stood from a far distance
Left to my unused Wisdom
With an open mind
Accessing the great treasure of this
Poetic picture
It worth is unknown
Clerify with deep peace
Which clear sorrow and give inner joy
Never the less I gain wisdom
Each time I view my poetic picture
Each time I view my poetic picture
Grace is made available
Like the blue sky mixed with white and gray clouds
Dew locating it resting place
As I allocate myself terms to it
Fruitful tresses beautify with drip of water
As it dirp down on green grass's
Finding it way on earth
Watering the earth
I could feel the air
powered with purity
The enrolling sound of each bird
Made substantial harmony
The sun rise
Titled with glorious ability
Edifying the field with enrich satisfaction
Each time I view my poetic picture
Each time I view my poetic picture
My poetic picture could be
Me, you, man, woman, words
Sure as I gain wisdom from it.
My poetic picture is the voice that address me in different picase for the moment of reality, existence and truth
Wisdom is profitable to direct
If I may ask
What is your poetic picture?
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 4:57 PM UTC