"laud" poems
What a historic day it is, that the birth of Motherland we celebrate,
She beautifies herself with Independence and prides in freedom;
Like a berry, Her seeds are nurtured and groomed to pomegranate,
Its the birthday of Nigeria, a tectonic day of liberation from Edom.
A day to celebrate Her sweet Autonomy and Ultimate Supremacy,
An October 1st that marks an Independent and historic liberation;
She prides herself in political Authority, Power and Predominancy,
Its the born day of Motherland, a day of a feast worthy celebration.
Let's all celebrate the birth of Nigeria, for Her age's a befitting feast,
We must unite together as One Nation built on our Elite's landmark;
This day calls for a jubilation to a lasting freedom and a vital feast,
Motherland glows with honour and pride, for her birth's a hallmark.
She fought like an Eagle with great might and valor, for the liberty
Of Her future generation, and Hero's blood a fountain of freedom,
Today we laud a Nigeria that birthed the Independence and stability
Of a Sovereign Nation, that feeds no more on the putrid of Edom.
Today marks the 56th born day of Nigeria, and still a Sovran Nation,
It calls for a celebration, a befitting feast and a historic merriment;
An October 1st that marks an Independent and historic liberation,
Its Nigeria's Independence, a day to celebrate a sweet merriment.
©Vabec.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
Let those who will of friendship sing,
And to its guerdon grateful be,
But I a lyric garland bring
To crown thee, O, mine enemy!
Thanks, endless thanks, to thee I owe
For that my lifelong journey through
Thine honest hate has done for me
What love perchance had failed to do.
I had not scaled such weary heights
But that I held thy scorn in fear,
And never keenest lure might match
The subtle goading of thy sneer.
Thine anger struck from me a fire
That purged all dull content away,
Our mortal strife to me has been
Unflagging spur from day to day.
And thus, while all the world may laud
The gifts of love and loyalty,
I lay my meed of gratitude
Before thy feet, mine enemy!
11k
Be smart be alert
Do not hide the truth my friend
Defend the truth until the end
RW Dennen-
Come my brothers and sisters
let us be basked in the sun of glory
Be we the tears that fall
surrendered on cheeks that tell their tale
Let slavery's master-yoke be broken
and cast away
Come my brothers and sisters
and so do join in our power's struggle
to lend a better day
Come my brothers and sisters
may your shining soul be at rest
Come be as neighbors no matter far away
let our colors merge one into one is one;
let racism fade away
and let rest us upon the immovable stone
of brotherhood; so powerful we are
And so too awaits our resolve enlightened by
our hearts of day
Then tear that awful blind of ignorance
and sing our song till all merge into one
And laud that peace that will increase good tidings to us all
Be that light until that sight
when colors merge and BROTHERHOOD,
to never go away...
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
My seed, my seed, why do I despise thee?
Never, have I been respected for my
Generous gifts given in between thighs.
One mischievous night that I could not flee
And now I’m bound to you through my money.
I did not want you; now you’re always nigh
You somehow stimulate every sigh
Laud’num doesn’t dull your presence, my seed.
Sometimes, I think – but no – my mind’s tangled.
Red *** riddles reveal… nothing. I find
These psychotropic fantasies have slid
Beyond me and you, I could not wrangle.
Years will pass ‘til we meet, but the check’s signed
Because ********* my seed, you’re my kid.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf,
Well versed in his ways, his demeanor,
His dispassionate relentlessness,
His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted,
His workaday disdain of pity.
There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad
Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak,
Affecting some gallant stoicism
As the beast consumed him without restraint,
But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy,
A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral.
I have learned that there is no accommodation,
No covenant to be reached with the wolf,
And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction,
And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation,
Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets,
Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands
While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth
Jeer and hoot from porch and portico.
No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms,
For staid suffering in the hopes
Of reaching some accord with the beast
Is the not the act of the noble sage:
It is the mock heroics of the coward,
The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
THE KNIGHT IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN
***** Rustaveli (c. 1160-1250), often called simply Rustaveli, was a Georgian poet who is generally considered to be the preeminent poet of the Georgian Golden Age. “The Knight in the Panther's Skin” or “The Man in the Panther’s Skin” is considered to be Georgia’s national epic poem and until the 20th century it was part of every Georgian bride’s dowry. It is believed that Rustaveli served Queen Tamar as a treasurer or finance minister and that he may have traveled widely and been involved in military campaigns. Little else is known about his life except through folk tradition and legend.
The Knight in the Panther's Skin
by ***** Rustaveli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
excerpts from the PROLOGUE
I sing of the lion whose image adorns the lances, shields and swords
of our Queen of Queens: Tamar, the ruby-throated and ebon-haired.
How dare I not sing Her Excellency’s manifold praises
when those who attend her must bring her the sweets she craves?
My tears flow profusely like blood as I extol our Queen Tamar,
whose praises I sing in these not ill-chosen words.
For ink I have employed jet-black lakes and for a pen, a flexible reed.
Whoever hears will have his heart pierced by the sharpest spears!
She bade me laud her in stately, sweet-sounding verses,
to praise her eyebrows, her hair, her lips and her teeth:
those rubies and crystals arrayed in bright, even ranks!
A leaden anvil can shatter even the strongest stone.
Kindle my mind and tongue! Fill me with skill and eloquence!
Aid my understanding for this composition!
Thus Tariel will be tenderly remembered,
one of three star-like heroes who always remained faithful.
Come, let us mourn Tariel with undrying tears
because we are men born under similar stars.
I, Rustaveli, whose heart has been pierced through by many sorrows,
have threaded this tale like a necklace of pearls.
Keywords/Tags: ***** Rustaveli, Georgia, Georgian, epic, knight, panther, skin, queen, Tamar, praise, praises, Tariel, Avtandil, Nestan-Darejan
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 1:38 AM UTC
Panic's jewel...
Or, is that pride?
Poor relenting, to you...
The question of irony on your side?
Places and things, together
With a real appetite for life's regency
So, sophisticated, the liberty of kind to bother
An open air, of a wish that found deception's history...?
My undone mercy, my marveling hope
Is with a ghost of a chance, the truth
In a guarded fist, to promise a shared cope?
If any pout of lore, is a wish that sought your youth...
I will follow...
Despairing consciences, with a blinking stare at honor
That defies home for one thing only, that is to harrow...
The dread in a tear, found for a salt that told a story:
Once upon a time, and the tenderness of couth
To wake upon a simple bed, the taste of harmony in league
With itself, the role of unity and vice, come the riches of who
Is a part defined, and who is a smarter focus divine, of each?
Which will the tows of remorse...
Work as we said, they have the skill's of duress to laud
And heraldry of a looming proportion, to understand the worse
The life of another lords prophet, the can and the callous odd...
Here is such, the lies or levity we fate
With a rekindled fire, for what is a stranger look, of desperation
Sincerity or since charity is a fool for itself, the world of sate
Is a kindness only a lover could afford, the very gift of intimation?
Tomorrow?
And the ides of heathen politeness, are here
To simply move forward and borrow
The truth in an order and repute, that has oneself to bless, with another's fear...?
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 1:25 AM UTC
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
Gold is dust, and silver sand:
Money made via vices is silly,
For it will by and by fly away surely.
Some people get riches by contraband,
Ruining others just for them to live
In luxury, like bees in a cosy hive.
Debauchery and lechery are a woe:
Girls chasing is many a man's hobby,
Running daily the full course of adultery
Or fornication. Some are soaked to sorrow
Drown in ***** A married woman, besides her
Hubby and God, may have another "helper."
Yet, the beloved apostle Paul in the Book
Of books, saith: "Godliness with contentment
Great gain is." Every earthly enjoyment
And achievement lacking holiness is a fluke.
Unless the flesh to the Spirit becomes a slave,
Worldly pleasures will the body often crave.
Greatness is not in the muchness of things,
But is rather in possessing the fulness of God.
Many whom this vain world doth highly laud
Are mostly before heaven very low beings.
They are the richest in life that have Jesus
As Lord and Saviour, who chose to be righteous.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Anyone can laud a sunny day
And lavish it with praise.
It's such an easy proposition
Amid warmth and golden rays.
But it is, I'd say, a refinéd taste,
When a day dawns bleak and grey,
To find some joy in heavy clouds
That bubble-wrap your day.
And even given pouring rain
That many see as vile
The drum of raindrops on the roof
Can bring to some a smile.
A wailing wintry driving blizzard?
Seems to most so rotten.
Yet for me I get a thrill
From a landscape wrapped in cotton.
Now a slush-and-sleet-filled day in March
Is a horrible kind of weather
I fear it seems to void my thesis
And brings to no one pleasure.
It erodes the city's state-of-mind
Optimism is diminished
Everyone is in a huff
And wants it to be finished.
Oh, for a bright day in July
With no one feeling huffy,
The golden sun to rule the sky
and clouds so big and fluffy.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
She feeds those chickens everyday
And the rooster struts and crows
As the steam rolls from the ***
Plucking feathers for dinner she knows
Your wife sho taste good to me
Mister rooster chest puffs up
Sitting at the dinner table smiling
She fills up her drinking cup
Yall chillen leave those chicks lone
They might think their meal is a little pet
She keeps them away from the chickens
She is planning on wringing their neck
Bow yo head and thank the Laud
For this here chicken wez bout to eat
The children all obey their mother
To them the chicken is a real treat
Sitting at the dinner table
Smiles would shine from within
Now the children tell all their children
How everyday Granny fed them
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
It is a fallacy we all believe.
As we vehemently exclaim six words
to prove the chastity of our thoughts,
to fill our pride with self-validation,
to ratify our existence with falsehoods.
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
I bitterly laugh at your blundering gaucherie,
as you lay blame on an eons old transgression,
as you smote the sinnerman flying with flames,
as you called him out for your own actions
impassioned by heresy.
Impassioned by heresy
You sought to relieve yourself from perdition;
brought upon by perjury declared,
brought upon by authenticated truths,
brought upon by the duplicity,
of your favored reverent ideologies.
Of your favored reverent ideologies
which is to laud your skirmish against evil
in order to remove yourself from auburn eternity,
in order to induct you as a citizen of argent fields,
in order to orchestrate contempt towards another?
Is there no truth to you?
Is there no truth to you
now that perfidy imputes your entirety?
as you declaim in front of paradise lost,
as you coerce to regain what is rightfully deprived,
as you throng duress by intoning your delusion:
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
Its recurrence is maddening to Him
while you, in all your sentience, chose to act unbecoming,
while the celestials perched on your shoulder bawl,
while He that you blame does absolutely nothing.
It is a fallacy we all believe.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
One Christmas Eve in Stranraer
I found mahsel' ****** in a bar
Wi' a fat Dumfries ****
Ach, 'twas easy tae score,
Once I tell't her I'd kipped wi' her Ma.
I spent Christmas morn in Prestwick
Wi' a girl whose lips were aye thick
(not the ones on her face
but in t'other place).
Their hugeness fair crushed ma braw ****
That night near auld Newton Stewart
Wi' a lass who declined aye tae do it,
I used all mah' charm
And twisted her arm,
But the smell in her breeks made me rue it.
On Boxing Day evening in Ayr,
I met a girl who had a huge pair
Of bonnie fat ****
They thrilled me tae bits
Before I explored her "doon there".
Galloway lassies are corkers
And Girvan girls are laud squawkers;
But for suckin o' the ****
Tak' yersel' tae Cumnock,
If ye dinnae mind fat spotty porkers.
You're no wondering doubt, in this poem,
Why no lassies have met a fell doom
(so I'll mention the death
of poor ugly Beth
Who got squashed in a ******** in Troon).
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
Nightmare number nine.
I dream of Utopic world,
A world without sins and crime,
Without a shout or cry,
No ghosts haunting the nights,
Will that world sustain?
A world with no pain..
A world so perfect,
That you wouldn’t enter in it again.
.
Ironic, I laud sadness,
I call a beautiful dream a nightmare..
Weird sounding thoughts, weird creepy madness!
But a day needs a night, a night needs a day,
To get more closer, one needs to be away..
So, how will it sustain?
A world with no pain…
The world without paradoxes, a world without mistakes,
A world so perfect, that it gets too close to be a fake.
How a good is good? If there is no conflicting bad?
How can one be happy? Without once being sad?
So, when everything is perfect ,
When everything is fine,
I know that I have entered in my nightmare number nine.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
How shocked was I when my mistress, Filthy Fiona,
Told me one summer's day she had one up the spout;
After all, the silly ***** was on the pill (and in any case
Half the time my seed had gone up the lesser used route).
But, accidents will happen when you least expect them:
Maybe her recent attack of diarrheoa had upset the apple cart.
O, how relieved was I when she told me she had booked herself in
To the Marylebone Abortion Clinic for a good old pump-out session;
And, even better (much better), I wasn't expected to foot the bill
As her private health insurance would cover it nicely,
Thank you very much indeed, God bless you, my darlin';
The excessive premiums were clearly a fine investment.
Like the gent I am, I offered to drive her there in my pink Porsche 911,
But she insisted I need only pick her up after the remedial session
As she had made other travel arrangements to get there; and
One cannot argue with a dame under such trying circumstances.
How I would have relished the amusement of those who saw the ****
Arrive in one bloke's car, deposited caringly with a consoling hug,
And collected by a different chappie, with a kiss on her plump cheek.
But, after all, 'twas only fair I found out later (with a gay grin)
When she told me she really had no idea who the father was
Although her two selected chauffeurs were the best two bets.
How I laud the foresight of the percipient abortion law reformers:
Our sad world has more than enough unwanted ******** as it is.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Minor Key
I
Let me enjoy the earth no less
Because the all-enacting Might
That fashioned forth its loveliness
Had other aims than my delight.
II
About my path there flits a Fair,
Who throws me not a word or sign;
I’ll charm me with her ignoring air,
And laud the lips not meant for mine.
III
From manuscripts of moving song
Inspired by scenes and dreams unknown
I’ll pour out raptures that belong
To others, as they were my own.
IV
And some day hence, towards Paradise
And all its blest—if such should be—
I will lift glad, afar-off eyes
Though it contain no place for me.
1.3k
Ascribe
to the Lord
all glory
laud and honor
He is our King
Oh bless the Lord
and worship Him
in the splendor
of His holiness....
Psalm 29:2
cj 2016
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Bright Seraphim in glorious light
Existing for God's praise
You circle Him in endless flight
You dip and soar with grace
Six wing's angels, silver robed
You fly above His throne
His brilliant glory shines and strobes
You lift your voice as one
Holy Holy Holy
Holy is the Lamb
He, the One unchanging
The faithful Son of Man
O, Seraphim, lovely as gems
Yet can't behold the beams
Of the light that brings renewal
And causes you to sing
You cover up your glowing eyes
With crystal feathers bright
For God's glory undisguised
Would blind you with it's might
Yet through your feathers you still see
Our Lord's spectrum's glow
Until in heaven he shall be
These hues no man can know
(chorus)
Faces in ecstatic pose
You sing in beauty found
Only in this glorious host
So lifted from the ground
O, Seraphim, bright jewels of God
You are a mighty throng
Lord Jehovah you will laud
And raise His praise with song
(chorus)
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/28/2016
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
You know my name
Let me rebrand it
I then, am Joshua.
You are Jericho --
A Jericho in my hands
For God gave you to me
The task is mine now.
I was born to conquer
I was born for this
To utter words of triumph
And exalt and laud
The name above all names.
You are not alone
But I am to defeat you
Including your kings
And mighty men of valor
That the proud heart may lose control
Be angry then, yet not sin.
I, Joshua
The one who'll march around the city
And for six days,
That'll be my routine
A discipline for myself
An act of obedience
Of not letting words slip in
From my mouth that once cursed
Yet now, I'm redeemed.
The trumpets we'll blow
And the Lord was with us
The fame now is of the land
Oh victory! Yes, my victory!
(6/29/14 @xirlleelang)
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
~~~
i glory not
in the achieving
i take no pride
in what i've done
i take the life
that i've been given
and, through God
i overcome.
i boast not
in beauty, talent
take no joy
in what most laud
i only hope
that what i do now
will be pleasing
to my God.
i will shout
from mountains high
i will scream into the blue
not of my own
strength or power
but of what
You helped me do.
i glory not
in past victories
in the things
which are now gone
i will glory in my
weakness
it is through You
that i am
strong.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks have passed,
How much more times I’ll glance and stash away?
As I sulk here, see me flip the pages
Of this nicely-collated calendar.
Counting down the moments I’ve raged aghast,
Clearly, this distance I can’t laud to sway;
Seeking too much on familiar faces
Just makes me miss you, so peculiar.
But then, this muse can’t bear this sweetest past
As the radio keeps on playing The Fray,
The last time we’re close, we target aces,
Wishing to go together so far.
Atop the sky, airplanes that appear rushed,
Oh, I can’t wait for yours to land and stay;
Permit me to write this, don’t file cases,
Poetic license is familiar.
So until then, I bid you my luck fast,
You’d have to remove the world’s mind of gray;
And I shall pray as you head down to places,
Don’t worry, I support you from afar.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Send me rockets
let me fill my my pockets with resistance to explode in lights across the desolation of this land of nights
and send me guns to run across the border fence where sits the old guard in defence of this,that once was home.
Send me fire to burn the towns and clowns to laugh like maniacs of which we have become,
and water to flood the thirsts,the first of many and sun to dry the dampened land.
Send me a band of hungry,homeless men then send me stones to build their homes.
Fill my cup up to the brim,let me swm in opulence.
In defiance of the crown I proclaim this town along with others as my property,I demand from them my total liberty,not the washed out freedom that we think as being free where rich men with their plaudits try to laud it over me and put me down
This is my town,my land,my band of disaffected vagabonds and to set the record straight,we're going to take it back,
we're going to attack the citadels,we the infidels are going to tear them brick by brick,we're going to make them sick of us
we're going to make them go.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:12 AM UTC
The pavement is full of spurious persons,
Training each other to pretend they're eclectic,
Using differences to assert the vilification of mankind.
Cross from them stands the truth,
Perspicaciously watching
The hedonists
Be not heedful,
Listening to their speeches full of trifling, inconsequential consequences.
A furtive plan snakes from the mouth to the ears of the truth,
Manipulating it to bolster the lies.
The belief that everyone deserves rights
Akin, alike, homogeneous, to the human nextto him,
Is brought down with the laud, the praise, the inception of the end.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
They say "I'm not sure,"
and they know it's veritable.
Cluttered desk--hats and
textbooks and papers and
earbuds all askew, heart
pumping too quick
Sitting on a black plastic chair,
legs curled up underneath, eyes
flickering to The Latehomecomer,
stomach unsettled
"I'm not sure." of what?
head down, eyes searching,
mind spinning, lungs catered
like coffee at noon
"Everything."
Supplied lies, shaking hands
pouring chamomile tea into a
white cup, hoping for--
that too.
"Everything?" on their mind
is falsified and unknown,
twisted skin ruddy,
shoes all in a row,
nails bitten like marionette
"Anything." of confirmation
belongs to the stables
which blossom with the
stench of sweetness and
wild, roving insecurity
"I'm not sure," they
murmur, "what you mean."
Precipices are lonely business
and so are "People like me,"
Forks are steel but the
mind is molten
and rusted in decay
"dream of quiet," they laud
slick on thin ice of
the essay due tomorrow in
history on the death
of too many
Sunglasses are similar
to winter waters and
lightning spirals in;
they are in debt to
themselves, in depth of
"broken moments." that
clash and too much
to think
slivers down in silver
carcasses of thoughts
"Okay, I can't help you."
"I know," filters out
behind lips of burning iron
"I never expected you too."
floats down the crowded
unfinished
street.
They're not sure of
everything and
I'm not sure of
me.
I know it's true.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
... but er' of heart.
The arrow flies to
miss its mark.
When love shot thus
makes pain begin
The hurtful shaft
of evil wins.
The arrow's notched
the bow is bent
But think before
that missile's sent!
Is it for love
with great aplomb?
Or does it house
an atom bomb?
Cupid's said to be a god.
But he can hurt
as well as laud!
Be ye careful of dismay!
Marry her!
Or you both pay!
I won't say more.
I won't shout.
I'm going now...
... over. OUT.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC