"noahs" poems
From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.
A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.
Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
With all the cards against us we gotta make it manage i swear to God i wish i cld mke yu harm proof what they dont understand its a bigger pic tht i cnt b taken out of ill nvr play yu like lebron vs jordan they say time is money but its not im broke so time all we got n yu cnt mke tht back so give me all yu got treat me like theirs no tomorrow....death over dishonour angel eyes short hair stay the same let the seasons change im willing to build noahs art known it cld b torn apart i aint got a image to uphold i keep the truth i been the truth im a young simba in his youth. im wondering wat comes with being a better man put Tyson Ali Mayweather in a ring & they still cldnt knock my love 4 yu
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
(in The News) Human Trafficking And Slavery
something that should have gone out
with the dark ages 'still rages'.
human trafficking and slavery for the almighty dollar
and no one to hear the screams and hollers.
young children being forced into prostitution
and not one country with a solution.
parents selling their children to get out of debt
just to make ends meet
a problem which they can not defeat.
yet we classify ourselves as humane?
now that's a crying shame.
if your mother or father was sold as a slave
is that the road that you would pave?
they steal the most precious things
from these boys and girls.
their innocence and their childhood
and turn around and say it's good!
these people say that it's too late
and of no use, to try to stop this
worldwide abuse.
maybe it's time for noahs ark
to reappear, and instill in their hearts
the almightys fear.
but the LORD had done this once before
and we had found another door.
so i guess the solution is not
just for the LORD to decide.
but for all of humanity to see
that this destruction has exceeded their realities.
the LORD has to soften our hearts
and weaken our minds
in the hopes that we will find
all the values we left behind.
'SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 6:02 PM UTC
From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.
A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.
Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
Du ser på den fineste, fine pige
med naturlige bølger i håret
som dem af saltvand
der kysser stranden
ved hendes fødder.
Det kilder i din mave,
og den sitrende fornemmelse
kører til brystkassen,
som nu føles
tung
og fyldt.
Du smiler til hende
og dit smil bliver dobbelt så bredt,
da du ser
at *** smiler
tilbage.
Monets have blomstrer
og Noahs ark danser
i din mave,
ved synet
af hendes fine ansigt,
der lyser op
i solens stråler.
Du har givet hende
det smil,
som nu står malet
mellem hendes kinder.
Du er kunstneren
og *** er kunsten.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
I was born with fists clenched
And full of contradiction.
I was born teeth first
And mouth last, which is to say
I knew how to bite back
Long before I knew how to open.
I was born with an umbillical noose
And blue skin.
Sometimes I forget that
There was, in fact, a revival.
I was born into a family
Of magicians.
Maybe thats why
I find comfort in the empty rooms.
I was born there.
Sometimes I think about
The sins I have not yet commited
And can't remember
Anything about Eve in a wedding dress.
Sometimes I think about the sins
I am actively committing
And relive the Leviticus stoning of
my own Mother
when I was seven
And she made my father disappear.
I was born hearing folklore
Of a hare that was too tired
to finish the race.
I was born being the tree that it napped against,
And also the hare
And also the finish line
And also the unfinished line
And never the tortoise.
I was born on Noahs Ark.
I have always been
The 39th night.
Always close to the sun returning in the morning
But never and closer,
Though I have been a rainbow
And I have held concrete.
I have gone swimming in the mud.
I **** the panic with smoke.
I know all three states of god
Because I was born the
god of something.
I was born the God of my body
And that's something
That's never going to change.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
Noah built an ark made it all from wood
so he could escape from a mighty flood
he took lots of animals took them to by two
put them on the ark a proper floating zoo
so that they could breed on another shore
and avoid the flood live again once more
Noah sailed away through the wind and rain
saving all the animals so they can breed again
this is how happened all the years ago
its there in the bible so everyone would know
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
When all the lights will die
From this planetary universe
Of course you'll wonder, why?
This darkness can't go inverse
Isn't the above lines wrong?
Imbalance of light and dark
Would bring chaos for long
Destructions will leave its mark
Wondering...
Will there be another 'Noahs' ark?
This time or next...
©sim
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:58 PM UTC
Well they knew it was coming,
But didn't do a thing,
building in secret, not many knew..
Two by two of species some
Well known but 40 days
And 40 nights some never
Made it home..
As the waters rose,
And land was swolllowed.
A mother with a child.
"Please take my children,
"They have not sinned,
"Nothing done against this God.
Noah looked and walked away..
As his children went to help,
Stay your pity.
The mother is sin so then is
The child..
A *******
as out of wedlock born.
Cries lasted for hours,
Then swallowed like
The land.
"Father why didn't we even
Save one,
Noah answered
"They angered our father,
Thinking they didn't need
His love,
The children confused,
"But if they grew out of
The cradle shouldn't a
Father be proud
As self sufficient..
Noah agnerly replied..
"We will always need him,
He is our father, mother, child.
To deny him is sin untold,
So he cleaned the slate.
And we his children were
Saved for we obey,
His word is just.
As the dove came back,
Land was fruitful once more
And on the shoreline a child
Face down..
But Noah didn't flinch,
Walking past he said to
His family,
God is good..
Genocide was his gift,
And not all the animals
That attended found this
New home.
There bones discarded
On the ocean floor.
Two by two they deserted
This prison ship.
And so Noah and his family
Repopulated the earth..
Now for the mindful just
Think deeply on that.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 4:56 AM UTC
The sun played its usual tricks on the leaves
putting colour and composition into autumns grandeur
but winter lurked just underneath this cosmetic skin
waiting to burst starflung into every crevice
where the ice remains as cold as a frozen temperament.
Deep within the earth the heart
of the seed will rest embraced by the long wait
to be ****** out of the earths womb into spring
where the soft sun and wind and rain
will reach out and grab the arms of the emerging shoot
claw it above ground and set it free into
the wide world of evolution.
Welcome the rain, remnants of noahs ark
that bloats the soil and sand and pulls the roots back
into the ground while coursing through the veins
of the resplendent tree reaching for the sky
and wind and wonder of life
and dressed in foliage and flowers
the kingdom of believers will arrive
to set foot under shade and succulent tube
to nourish themselves in bounty and beauty
Autumn will return from its journey
to touch a clock and take the baton
of beauty back again. A year gone.
Older. Wiser. Smarter.
Author Notes
A journey through the four seasons. It summer in New Zealand and sizzling. Its not the best summer to write about. Soon it will fall into the next cycle and all that I write about will repeat.
I took my dog, Petals for a walk yesterday. She always stops at one particular flowering bed and ferrets out-whatever. That's when the poem came to me.
Hope you enjoy the poem. To those caught in blizzards and ice and snow wherever, remember, there is beauty in that too! Just gotta love it-which ever way. Its nice to be alive.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
Winters crushing silence, Lacoste’s new dawn
Art all consuming through empathic suave
And evocative frontiers
Lacoste in love with crafts enlightened beacon
Irregular lines devolve from medieval skeletal relics
Trompe-l'œil beggars ones belief
Windows framed empty
The eye drawn to its historical tone
A sweeping brush strokes the virginal canvas
Golden colours materialise within ones conceptional dream
A spatial aura now raked on pastoral hues
Sparten skies embodies synonymous revelations
Roberts chiselled forms soar out of soft stones erosion
Grains becomes a wash with the cream of gold
Flowers lay wanton to the stony mural
Echoing within each cranial abyss
Ambience sings to the wavering hand
Sprouting wings on the back of birds in song
Luberon’s wide shoulders cradles a fire from Martha's bellows
Beguiling the light illuminates each hillside easel
Materials cut from the heart of Cécile
Mounted on heady heights
Engages empowerment in nuptial bonding
Transitioning to unearth the wearer
Gaby finds his source in prehistory
Rumbling tractors stitching together the whispering landscape
Everts clay forms upon the Noahs ark prepare for the coming art uprising
Compatriote born of the land, immortalised in clay
Hérold crystallized forms evoke surreal echoes
Playing the open gambit of Le Sade agape
Empowering the village through their art
Artists of Lacoste forge an oeuvreal village from the jagged walls
Artsploitation a road to ones soul
Artspronouciation reaching the road
Art a levelling climate settles the crowd
Amity conjuring future artisan fingers
The nesting atelier
Fledglings prepare to dip a toe
Stretching wings in mind, body and soul
Freeing spirits of old
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 6:36 AM UTC
(for Noah when he was
5 years old)
Child angel
resting
on a pillow
of clouds.
Head of hair
three weeks
overdue
from the
barber's
chair.
spiderman pajamas
keeping
your dreams
toasty
against the
midnight air.,
your mother
and I lying
next to
you as you
sleep.
only five
years old.
and you
have made
every
dream in our
lives come
true.
slumber well
our son.
slumber deep.
under this
harvest moon
our dreams
you keep.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC