we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
fall for nothing
may stumble along the trip
may swerve at the wheel yet
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
Their covenant wings
Like cherubim on alters
Spread out for preying
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
For several thousands of years
you upheld the sacredness of Nature
avoiding wanton destruction
of plant and animal life
taking only what you needed
since their sacredness was
just as important to you
as the sacredness of humanity
When harvesting wild rice for food
you let some fall into the water
to produce crops for the future
Surrounding a pack of wild sheep
while hunting in the mountains
you let a male and female escape
so by their reproductive process
they would ensure the
continuation of their species
You saw yourself as part of Nature
living in harmony with it
and not plundering it with greed
Your religion was to respect Nature
viewing all plants and animals
as parts of its magnificent fabric
Abuse of a part of it was
an abuse of the whole
Your way of life
provides valuable lessons
that can teach mankind how
to deal with today's ecological crisis
that threatens the survival
of all life on the planet
You were the genuine
Guardian of the Environment
I have always admired the way of life of the Native American Indians living in harmony with Nature before the advent of the Europeans. By extension, this applies to all indigenous peoples including the Amerindians and Polynesians. This piece is dedicated to them.
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
All that ever is be God
For God contains all things
The moons the stars, the galaxies
The summer, winter, spring
God is the highest mountain
And the oceans deep and vast
He's there in all that lives and dies
He's the first and he's the last.
I can always feel the breath of God
In everything I do
I'm walking God. I'm breathing God
He is me, and he is you
"But who am I? And who are you?"
When I don't know where I'm at
I only know from the core of me
That God is all of that.
I'll end this little poem of mine
And explain this thing to you
Well I'm not trying to say "I know"
Nay this is hardly true
A wise man said a Chinese sage
"He who knows, knows nil"
But I believe in the power of love
And I know I always will.
23 September 2014
Dusty roads and fresh grass
summertime rodeos approaching fast
riding with a friend down on sandbars
A piece of hay hanging out of his mouth
though some trapped water, out the other side
I had forgotten this wonderful life
I still see some twenty year old boy helping me up
now a sixty year old man rides in front
pointing all the changes in the last five years
I could not believe what time I lost
4 am to a cowboy is not early enough
my pants soaking wet my boots fixed
We rode on down to his dads favorite spot
to meet God when the sun comes up
we turned to face it and did not say a word
God's spirit was the only thing we heard
as earth to air, and water to fire, met in the sky
right there two old friends prayed to God
I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
Come and visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
Are you floating on a cloud?
Have you found the brightest star?
I know you're with us somewhere,
Even though you can't be seen,
Painting the bluest sky,
Or among the grass so green.
As I'm wandering through the park,
Looking up at the trees,
Daydreaming of the joy you brought,
Will you visit me please?
Just send me a little sign,
White feathers on the breeze,
To let me know you're happy, free
And put my mind at ease.
Or ask a passing stranger,
With twinkling brown eyes,
A cheeky smile, and baldy head,
To nod as he passes by.
Or maybe play a special song,
Loud, on my radio,
That could have been written just for you,
About all the love we've known.
Come visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
I know you're there, a floating cloud,
And one of the brightest stars.
within the minute of retreat your back is tuned to your enemy's chorus
harmonic to your freedom, measured by compassion, anxiously seeking their humanity
thought ascending from stars see's an ounce of mercy surrounded in darkness
a defeated purpose which drove them to the heavens
those who have reserved hope find some place to accept the truth
a test of how far our courage outlast the chaos from all life's passed
mystery's enlightened path never reached the end of suffering
to the likeness of a fumbled method
we could now follow like the atoms of Eve
disconcerted absence to our entrophic eyes
spreading legs like artificial soul
momentarily creators of their own excitement
movement supported by those who think your great
everybody who realizes the dream
shape your reflection and let the background find it's own feet
Apparent peace soon merged with equality
freedom's lark rests on the soles of a war monger's foot
peace showed up in a fresh pair of socks
the talking corps relates a message conspired by his earthy tones
sighting the great spoils and burnt offers of a desired sin
while designs of old are searched for something missing
past events re-invented an old tool of the government this ambiguous wireless chip
lets us say all of thing they can tax and the rest we make it our garden patch
There whirls a world about a star
Gathering motes of dust from Far-A-Far
Upon the shining silvered seas' bright skin
That cloaks the place three-fourths within.
Upon the multicolored shards of stone
Reflecting from her fragile face
Some billions of small beings wander
And ask themselves if they alone
Exist within the boundless dark
And the very question seeks to sunder
The restraints of heartless reason stark
That advocates their ending without trace.
She shines against the obsidian deep,
Bestirs Infinity within its sleep;
Has tried at times the patience of the formless Elohim
And stirred the wings that whisper in the golden wind.
So thus she calls attention, though having no intent
To do so, down upon her gleaming self
An invocation insincerely sent to a God or Gods unknown
Who may arrive someday to collect the rent
And tally up the Pros and Cons
And gather up such seeds as sown
Through the troubled course of her existence, then begone
To distant parts, to pull new worlds down off the shelf.
So she spins in silence 'round her star
As billions wonder where the angels are;
The incense rising everywhere
Their hope a jewel in the Celestial Share.
“There is a time for each season…
To everything made…
There is a divine reason.
A time for purpose under
the heavens above…
A time for meaning from a God of love.
A time to be born. A time to die…
A time to farm the ground
under the beautiful sky.
A time to kill. A time to heal...
A time to tear down and
to build up with a passion and zeal
A time for weeping. A time for laughing…
A time to mourn. A time for dancing.
A time to keep...
A time to throw away.
A time to tear. A time to make amends today.
A time to get. A time for losing…
A time to keep. And to give
away at our choosing.
A time for silence. A time to speak…
A time for each hour
and day of the week.
A time for love. A time for hate…
A time for war. A time for peace at your gate.
How will you spend the time
God has given to you?
What is your choice? What will you do???
May this be a time living in
God’s purpose and design.
He created you and made
everything beautiful in his time!
By Jim Pemberton 05/22/10
Read Eccl. 3:1-11
Last night I bore a troubled heart
And prayed the Lord His peace impart...
And dreamt I then of fancy things
Of angel's wings, and Queens, and Kings
Of pirate ships and maidens fair
With emerald eyes and golden hair...
Then, flying there on wings of thought
Was quickened homeward sleeping brought
And woke instead to cold of morn
With worries lurking still forlorn...
Then, while sipping coffee's wake
Did by the garden respite take
And playing there I spied two fox
like stooges wearing reddened locks...
I prayed the Lord to spare my grief
And woke today to comic relief!
Timothy I. Brumley
I am more than a menace to society
There’s a twist in my sobriety
Please help me sculpt my destiny
Help me return to incorruptibility
Why do I believe Google not your holy book?
Why do I trust the teacher not the parent?
Why do I have faith in the label not the quality?
Why do I confide in counselors not my spouse?
Strangers become closer than siblings
Democracy daunts more than dictatorship
Price becomes more important than value
Which God do I praise and worship?
Who is the custodian of my conscience?
Who is the guardian of my scruples?
Who is the protector of my principles?
Who is the curator of my values and visions?
What if all that I know turned out false?
What if we were wrong about everything?
What if we weren’t who we thought we were?
What if infinity and zero were vice versa?
God, tell me the mystery of your will.
For as far as I can see is your majesty.
The desert is as small as the eye of a needle.
And it is, in this paradise, a travesty.
The flowing springs are sparkling clear and cool,
And they water the green foliage and flowers.
From hill to hill, beauty is on display,
And, in every direction, proof of your growing powers.
< amidst flocked needles ...
woven ornament strewn ...
a star is ... born
Taoism, the watercourse way
When I’m speaking on religion
Then I speak about Lao Tzu
He was man of nature
And I love him, yes I do
He said don’t push the river
You must jump into the flow
Just be one with nature
And then you just might grow.
He spoke about the Tao
He said “follow the way”
Do not follow anyone
Live for just today
The way is like an eagle
As it flies high in the sky
It leaves behind no footprints
As it goes flying by.
One can only be a Taoist
If he lives authentically
He must always be spontaneous
And live life just to be
Natural is the only way
That one should live his life
Live in peace, and harmony
As you disregard all strife
17 October 2014
Written for Roy Jerdens...'Religion, non Christian' contest
She's highly sophisticated and full of undefiled wisdom
Yet a crowned Duchess in a paradise kingdom
Quite a beautiful angel flying with black wings
Covered in gold jewelry and precious things
She dresses like the women of ancient Egyptian class
Her wealth is generous and her money grows like grass
She loves orange scented candles with dark room flame
She rules thirty legions of soldiers and Bune is her name
Her comely warrior voice can wake and relocate the dead
Her armies of soldiers gather around the cemetery
She is brave and deserves a princessly crown on her head
Her facility of speech and flair for words is legendary
A beautiful queen to be treated with respect and honor
Instead of blasphemy,wanton abuse and fictional horror
Whilst we are raindrops,
we forget we are water.
In the exact moment that I am right now
I stand in a sea of vulnerability;
susceptible to the effects of causes around me
and since I am fully aware,
I own my surroundings
I am one with sounds and vibrations
resonating from the earth;
I am that pulse of the drum beat
thats been thrashing
inside me since birth
Right now, I am exactly as I am
deeply flawed and misjudged
used, victimized and persecuted
Right now I am you in the absolute
Right now, I am exactly as I am
balanced, whole and complete
attracting abundance and certainty
Right now I am peace - still you
Right now, I am exactly as I am
Finally..Mr.Whitman, I understand as my journey is symbolic to yours;
but, through my poverty-strickened doors.
Fighting your human instincts...
while learning your internal glow within. Frightening, enlightening, inviting his omnipresence in
and as your reward he transforms you into him.
Breathing your FIRST breath again.
Loving life from the core of the earth to the pull of the moon. Stuck in the middle yet
understanding all of the connectivity; because I'm living in a state of Divinity.
white on blue
tears wave to
pain on cue"
~JSLambert © 2012 Poet TreeZ Publishing
Run, run, run and give it all up!
Into His arms, commend your love!
Through Him, you are saved!
What a beautiful, glorious day!
My ancestors walking in the night
using oil lights and moonlight for guides
while being instructed to Wade in the Water
to camouflage their scents like disguise
The Sweet Chariot awaited
so they could ride away
Harriet was a soldier
and it wasn't an option to be caught during the day
That's the same mentality Nat Turner had when he sang
They would follow the drinking gourd
so all were in accord to go north
The Gospel Train was coming
and at the end of the journey
was a fine reward
Freedom was coming
and it was a long time coming and
they walked until they heard freedom bells ringing
and I still hear their tired footsteps running
Thinking of My Darling Nelly Gray
Stolen from my arms a random September day
and eliminated our chances to run away together
No family ties, no love, no strength says the oppressor
Then I hear the drums beat in the darkness
giving me the hope of finally being free
Maybe I'll follow them this time on faith
on bended knee
There must be a place for me among the light
of this darkness
Among oppression, thieves, evil-doers
no thought on their conscience
Thank goodness for the safe houses that
supported our traveled distances
and for the conductors who bore witnesses
and may God have mercy on the souls who
were against this
and on those who chose to forget this sh@!
I still hear crying in quilts of safety
because I know that the burden was heavy
to be at the mercy of nature and patrol men
catching run-away slaves for money
Some did it bare feet with freedom ahead of this
loved induced journey and they made it
So all that bull about how your life is hard
just stuff it in an envelope and save it
Dawn chorus trills arias in duet
Not a dulcet tone morning to forget
Rose shot with purl
A white wedding dress shimmers in sunlight
The blond tresses tied, a threaded delight
Rose petals curl
The fresh flush of a virgin: prescribed writ
The purity evident on soffit
Rose throws to hurl
The serene still reflection in mirror
Belie fervid brow - tester an error?
Rose bud unfurls
By Suzette Crous
19 January 2013
Inspired by the quote by William Carlos Williams: “It is at the edge of a petal that love waits.”
purl (n): sewing thread that is made from gold or silver wire
shot (adj): woven of two colours in such a way that when the fabric is viewed from different angles the visible colours change.
Fervid: (poet.) Hot, glowing, impassioned.
Tester (n): Canopy esp. over four-poster bed
Please see the About Section for details explaining the background to this poem.
Usually the same meter (eg as applicable to a couplet) is employed throughout the poem.The number of possible variants following a scheme are too many to list here. Whichever verse pattern you decide on, it must be followed throughout the poem. In this poem I am exploring the possibility of employing two different meter to accentuate the TAIL (line 3) where I changed the meter in lines one and two from anapaestic trimeter to iambic dimeter in line three.
Lines 1 and 2: anapestic trimeter
* * / | * * / | * * / .....* an additional unstressed syllable
I end some of the lines with an extra feminine syllable (unstressed)
Line 3: iambic dimeter
* / | * /
On Roman ruled British isle, to the deacon and his wife fair;
On a beautiful morn, our Patrick was born, in a forth century lair
Young and bright as a button; taken by knavish raiders - not fair
At tender age sixteen, long time not be seen, a dutiful slave to Eire
God spoke to devoted Patrick in a dream on this Emerald Isle
Boarded ship and set sail, in Britain to tell the tale; Gaul: priesthood and file
In 432, back to Eire to convert the pagans worshiping even a rock
To explain the Holy Trinity, enlightening them till affinity, he used the shamrock
Pat inspired the Irish festival, history tells his colour was blue,
The wearing of the Green, even if one can't keen - Skyfest invites all parties true
Sung by a tone deaf (they all were) mistrel, tanked up on green beer
See the About section for details on which this poem was based. Thank you.
Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms:
This metre (BALLAD METRE) may also be interpreted (and sometimes printed) as a couplet of seven-stress lines, as in Kipling's ‘Ballad of East and West’ (1889):
Never fear that you walk alone
As God is walking by your side
He’s always there to give you strength
To comfort and to show he cares.
Remember God is with you every day
His light is there to be a guide for you
Let your heart be touched by his love
Open up your heart to allow his love through.
When you’re lost in the storm and feel very scared
Don’t lose your faith God is there watching over you
Gods guiding light will come shining from above
Beaming like the sun’s rays embracing you in love
At the end of the storm, the skies will be golden
The larks will be singing high in the trees
Reach deep inside to find the strength to carry on
Allow your fears to fly away with the breeze.
Remember now when days seem too dark
It’s impossible to put a smile on your face
Never give up because there is always hope
Deep inside your restless troubled heart.
Find a way to let faith back in your life again
Be rid of all the days of bitterness and pain.
Always walk with your head held high
With your faith you’ll never feel lost again.
My day is a day to be reckoned with my Sir!
I am down back to zero going again you see.
I carry a silver stick just for you not for me.
Do know I roll in a blend of pure magic I stir.
Like my soup you are and a cat I shall purr.
My summer is magic my winter cues as be.
I am busy you see to fly in and out like thee.
But in between this world is a cross to incur.
And at the end of this world is even a bigger cross,
Sharp as a whistle seemingly to be at a great loss!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009