A torch carried on forever, indeed,
for the aggressive rhymer in me,
is alive again, unshackled and freed,
rising to challenge another day, I see.
As I found myself lost deep in Tolkien,
with epic Star Wars, never ending,
surrounded in a geek paradise, serene,
optical illusions before me, suspending.
Life's songs on guitar strings strummed,
an epiphany unlike they've ever heard,
euphoric dreams in my visions hummed,
as I pen archaic word after archaic word.
Artistry is born only to be my brother,
encircled this star, a pentagram made,
my day is done, I have conquered another,
as the sun slowly brings down the shade.
A Word Collage For Chan Hurst
(Cyndi MacMillan's contest)
Perseverance is surely the name of the game
With every challenge before you
It applies to the highest mountains you climb
Ignoring distractions is the clue
Roadblocks are there to test your patience
The glitter of gold clouds your eyes
Keep your nose to the proverbial grindstone
Much success will be yours by and by
I certainly haven't achieved all my goals
But employing this theory through the years
Has enabled me to increase the likelihood
Of avoiding many heartaches and tears
Working hard with the goal of cooperation
Bendability when shown a new path
You'll ultimately be placed in a higher standing
Great success will be yours at last
In closing please remember this friendly advice
To assist you in climbing life's tree
Compassion and patience are all important
But perseverance is surely the key
© Jack Ellison 2013
The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.
The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.
Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man,
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.
There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.
At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced
Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.
Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.
Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.
Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks
a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.
A LEGACY SPAN
Daily my precious gift my one and only life
A life which someday may run old and dry
Everytime it's prick with knife and strife
A continuous battle flaming how or why
A day to be with family then bond
A whole day sharing time with friends
A day to roam, reminisce the land
A Church day to praise and transcend
Sometimes, I will meet and kiss rainfall
However, I shall stand ~ try understand
Over heartaches and a jar painful
I wear my gear and take full command
Each Day, I will first stir the urge
To anyone needing some time
I will share opting not to splurge
To love and care my finest rhyme
A passing day will forever gone
My life sparks with Master plan
All things that's done and undone
My dusts dispels a legacy span
January 12, 2014
O Lord! Thou art my Coach
I shall never be defeated
Strengthen me for this game
As I humble call on your name
Invigorate my heart, mind and body
When I fall, pick me up and energize me
Grant me the tenacity to win every ball
And courage to stand whatever befall
Yea, though my opponents frighten me
Like roaring Lions out of their den
My great Coach always inspires me
Your pep talk! Your word! Uplifts me
Though fear and despair bites me
Like venomous snakes out of the shadow
My Lord is with me everywhere I go
You prepare a strategy to defeat my foe
When the final whistle is blown
And the team heads to the dressing room
May my Lord, the great Coach when He calls my name
Say “Gideon! You played like a Lion, you played the game”
And surely victory, glory and goodness
Will hunt me all the days of my life
And I shall look up to my Coach forever
Walking with me now and ever!
The Poet Preacher © 2014
Ps 18:39 My Coach has fortified me with strength [energy, power, strategy, capability] for the battle [big game, contest, combat]: He has subdued [vanquished, beaten, massacred, overpowered] my opponents.
Pop can Sally stock my pop.
Push the new stuff back!
Bring the old stuff to the front
and space them just a crack.
Sell me one to quench my thirst
but make me get my own.
Reaching further to the back
where cooler ones are known.
Take my change from out of pocket.
Thanks for this cold pop.
Refreshing when I pull it's tab
and help to blow it's top.
Guzzling down what rushes out
and soon to quench my thirst.
Swallowing it quickly now;
allowing it to burst.
Empty now a once full can.
Thanks to Sally and her pop.
The Pop Can Sally Store.
No twelve-step indulgent spree
for getting over you.
I dismissed you in a hurry,
two steps I chose to do...
First, I man-handled my grief.
Spinning one-eighty degrees,
one short cry and I'm debriefed.
Mission accomplished with ease.
Next, I dealt with my revenge
after all, I'm human too.
Hundred-to-one you’ll come unhinged
when you see me with you know who.
Entering into peace at last
interesting truth I find
Ah, c'est la vie - tears are past;
you are a load off my mind.
They started at the break of day
For happy day of fun.
Each hoped to catch a mess of fish
Before the day was done.
They hurried to remembered spot
Where they'd had past success,
To cast their bait from a high wall,
With some skill, more or less.
These siblings wanted to surprise
Their unsuspecting mom.
The sweet, young miss was Eloise, (Ell-o-wise)
Her brothers Jack and Tom.
At first the fish refused to bite,
But these three persevered.
And each went home with their fair share
Before sun disappeared.
For Edmund Blair Leighton contest
I stole this poem
with cutlass and eyes
words lusted and trusted
so I took of this prize
it's chests of golden
it's flashing jeweled verbs
and left letters worthless
to be picked by the birds
sailing 'cross bleached pages
under azure blue skies
I stole of my own life
and took what implies
existence on dangerous sees
to the edge of the earth and
boarded keyboard south of the keys
taking every word of worth
pillaging the hapless literati
demanding chains and trinkets
relieving authors boasting haughty
of bootied lines me think it's
better to hold to bright sun
to see glint in the daylight
some pirated pentameter outdone
without sword of pen to fight
so hang me dashed by a yardarm
an' tell lies of me glories
whilst takin' maidens in arm
regaling wild legended stories
but, me matey, ye'd better beware
of plagiarists fast on your tale
'cross oceans of notions they dare
pirate your own words to unveil
to their own laughing lasses and crew
drinking and toasting remembrance of you
what's a pirating plagiarist to do?
- but pirate a poem out of the blue
aaarrgh matey -
I'll be takin' them lines now...
© Goode Guy 2012-12-13