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absence abuse
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house how i feel
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Long Devotion Poems | Long Devotion Poetry

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Long Poems
Long poem by Cindi Rockwell | Details |

THE JOURNEY - get low

Once upon a weedy lawn
At Cedar Oaks Retirement Home
There sat my mother, weak and old
On an afghan knit to block the cold.

It was summer, but in mom's grey eyes
Was winter, when all around us dies.
I had tried to park her in the sun
Though I doubt she could notice what I'd done.

The disease had eaten up her brain
So little of her now remained
She didn't even know my name
I knew her not, much to my shame.

I looked around our patch of earth
Saw dandelions,and thought with mirth
Of how when small these grew quite wild
Mom would pick them as she smiled.

"Blow upon this cloud of seed,
"Then wish for what you really need."
I picked one now,and sadly blew
I asked for "mom" I never knew.

Suddenly a gust of wind
Took those seeds and made them spin
I felt my body start to rise
And change to match the seeds in size.

My mother gasped, & sucked us in
The seeds and me like some great wind
I saw her teeth, quite brown from smoking
And feared that I might cause her choking.

I swirled around, then down a slide
"Is this my mother I'm inside?!"
I landed in a battered lung
Where signs of cigarettes had clung.

And unsure of just where to go
I found a bridge, and crossed it slow.
Whence I entered a crucial part.
I found myself in momma's heart.

Where in a corner, dark and dusty
A young girl played, her laugh so lusty.
Her eyes weren't grey but tinged with blue
The plaited hair I also knew.

Her teeth so white, her face unlined
It was my mother, quite a find!
A joy, a freedom never shown
A lightness in her manner, tone.

And then a moment changed it all
I saw my grandma softly call
And whisper in my mother's ear
"Your dad has died. I'm sorry, dear."

Her wailing nearly deafened me
As the joy drained out like tides at sea.
Seeing all her pain and grief
I felt unwelcome, like a thief.

So I moved further in her heart
And came upon a teenage tart.
Awkwardly smoking, trying too hard
And too easily letting down her guard.

She fell for boys like rain from clouds
Her clothes too tight, her make-up loud.
Each night she staggered home alone
Hoping one would actually phone.

Then came the day that in that place
Could only lead to her disgrace.
I saw my mom in grandma's parlor
And my granny pacing as she hollered.

She pointed at mom's bulging middle
Screamed, then cried, then swore a little.
Pulled my mom up to her feet
In one swift move, threw her on the street.

My mother was 16, expecting a child
Homeless as well, she ought to be wild.
But instead I saw a great peace abide her
As she gently caressed me still forming inside her.

I saw in her eyes how love was the way
She changed from a girl to a woman that day.
Not love for a boy, a career, a degree
The love that transformed her was her love for ME!

Already feeling like my heart could break
And not sure of how much more I could take,
I still turned around to roam and explore
Both anxious and wary for what was in store.

This part of her heart was lit bright as the sun
My mother was wedding her intended one.
I remembered the dresses, beautifully white
I remembered the dancing that went on all night.

And then like a knife tearing straight through my chest
I knew what I'd see when I looked at the rest.
My mother so happy to be loved and give back
And me, growing older, and jealous of "Zach."

My stepdad who treated me like I was his own
Whose only crime was to enter our home.
I wanted my mother's attention on me
I was blinded by self-centered jealousy.

I knew that my mother would have to pick me
Especially if he behaved violently.
I found I was born with a flare for theatrics
And ran to my mom, often faking hysterics

Til finally my mother was left with no choice
But to tell him to leave, with a crack in her voice.
And suddenly I saw what I hadn't before
This part of mom's heart looked all broken and sore.

I couldn't continue with ease like before
The walls were too thick, advancing a chore
As if my mother had run out of room
For chances of love to grow or to bloom.

Then finally I hit the last, great, thick wall
Without any access beyond it at all
And almost afraid to look at the view.
I nonetheless watched, as I knew I must do.

It was a scene I knew all too well.
My teenage years, when I put mom through hell.
When I dumped her for boys who cared nothing for me
Choosing from her real love just to flee.

I left her alone in her house in the woods
I left her for losers who sold me their goods.
And then, too proud to admit I was wrong
I never went back, til her health was long gone.

And it was too late to say how much I cared
Too late to know it was something we shared.
Ready to go, I took one last long glance
And I saw something I never expected, by chance.

I saw my mother, like time lapse pics
Every night of her life, never missing a tick
Down on her knees, by the side of her bed
Praying for ME, who left her for dead.

She prayed for my health, she prayed I'd find love,
She prayed I'd be blessed by our Dad up above.
And even when she couldn't walk on her own.
My mom still put my needs o'er her own.

When the tears rolled free down my face,
I heard a huge sigh, and felt pulled from my place.
And in half a minute I was back on the lawn
Front of mom and Cedar Oaks Retirement Home.

My mother looked down on me, suddenly aware
And I saw for the first time her pain and her care.
And I noticed also an angel-like glow,
As she reached out her hand, and said, "Now you know."

I hugged her, held her, thanked her til night.
But the lucid look never came back in her sight.
She passed shortly after, to my great dismay
But I'll never forget the gifts given that day.

I learned never discount the love of your mother,
Never trade in that bond for the sake of a lover.
I learned there is power in a mom's loving prayers
And there is a God who hears and who cares.

I learned about faith, and love unconditional.
I learned about judging by standards traditional.
And I learned that from a little seed
Can come most everything we need!


Long poem by Isaiah Zerbst | Details |

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]





Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Sitting On The Ground - Our Friendship Bond and Our Vital Vows

I’m sure of it – we’ll do good enough in the long run
Let the crazy, busy, and sunny day begin and I welcome the sun
Do you welcome the sun?
You’re a lot of fun 
Let’s run in the sun
Embrace your passions and good side 
Our friendship bond is like a marriage commitment between a good-looking groom and a beautiful bride!

There’s a recompense for doing the right,loyal, and faithful thing…there’s a way out of captivity – don’t be fenced in by ferocious fears and be conquered by life-changing, wonderful cheers and be free like deer, hopping into the fervor-blossoming flower fields…have no feeling of overwhelming fear! You have no excuse for cheating on me - not while I'm around here...
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
Do your thing, oh you darling peace-abiding angel…oh, you peace-crafting angel of light – can you linger by my side everywhere I feel, darling, oh darling angel…believe and be stable – 
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
And do your thing and be my everything – don’t be scattered on the ground like beads or shattered glass everywhere you step…and gloriously sing and bring everyone peace in mind with your unique, relishing ring – flourish like the tall grain in the golden terrain…fill everyone’s hearts with perpetual cheer! 
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
You are such a beauty from every single angle…untangle me from the web of bewilderment and spread cream cheese to my bagel! Read God’s bible – nothing close to a mad myth or a frivolous fable! Place those beliefs under the table and give as you are able! 

You gottah get up and try as P!nk sings in her song
Embrace your passions with me...and you'll slowly, but surely belong!

Go with the flow of the current of the aqua-blue sky
Kiss the abyss "farewell" - sit back and chillax and be high like a kite

Embrace your passions…never let it go…
Bring me to my dwelling place called Dandelion Delight
It’s time to face what we’ve done…
One…two…three…four
Guide me to my heavenly haven called Illuminated Night
It’s time to run the race – we’ll survive the run…
Four…three…two…one…
We’re sittin’ on the fence, 
Catching a glimpse at the sundrenched sight
Am I makin’ any sense?
Watching a marvelous sunset transform into an illuminated night
Hand me a bouquet of stars 
Don’t remind me of my past scars
Who can mend them now?
Embrace your passions…never let it go…
You’re more precious than the best of poetry 

Do you know where the wind does blow?
It’s a mystery to conceal…say that you want to fall in love with me
’Cause I want to practice by admiring you with 100% certainty that you’re the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with…someday, the day will come somehow…this moment with you is so unreal
How can you blossom like fireworks in the midnight sky? I ponder about this as I find myself sitting on the ground – gravity-bound… How? Somehow, you do it…someday, I’ll know how! I wanna learn to give you space when you need it and I’ll know for sure that you’re my Only Devotion...how did these scars heal? Is it you, my dearest angel? I’m not insecure, but I do take things to the next level – it’s no good deal
Fight for the right purpose and fight the good fight…the reason I fight is for your sake…alright?
You and I will earn beyond-brilliant-and-flawless peace….don’t let the bright opportunities fade…you don’t make me flip out, but you allow me to look at the bright side of life – you’re the reason I’m shimmering anew and I’m the most handsome tint, not a shameful shade 
Fight with your might – there’s an afterlife to look forward to – everything will be black and white
You’re quite a dashing princess – gracious evermore – go play that majestic melody of yours – I want you to know that you’re as sharp and tough as my favorite pocket blade

Come, face this roller coaster with me and go along with the ride 
Face your fears…look them in the eye – you’re gonna be fine with me, though we’re not sitting on the ground…but later on, it’s a possibility possibly…
Go with the flow and put your hands in the air like you don’t care – care to be by my side?
Face your fears…face them eye to eye like a wo-man–you’re gonna be OK with me around…I guarantee! Stay with me and echo your feelings of ecstasy! Think of us next to a sparklin’ sea with serene shores washing against our bodies as one gaily…so happily…so merrily, do we sing! 
Bring us accord and don’t sow discord, 
Let your talents, gifts and high spirits take wing
Let’s sip some wine and be as happy as two jovial pigs in the mud – happiness, free will, and joyfulness are what we can afford!

Let's lock hands and make an agreement and a special bond plus a scared oath...
Like grand lands - just kick back and chillax for a time - you're the one I'll never have the heart's desire to loath
Spread butter to the toast...and slice away all doubt
You're the one I can't help but boast about
You lead me to a nirvana-like, narrow pathway
Come follow me as I blow you XOXO's along the way
Let positivity drive us on and trek that big mountain
Shine on, dear angel of unbreakable, ardeous strength, like the dawn - weep no more, you fretful fountain . . . 
Let God's healing rain heal our pain
That's been driving you and I insane...but we're still sane,
Driving on our love-abiding, painless lane

Promise me you won't break our friendship vows...


Long poem by Les Pruitt | Details |

Architects of Humanitarian Crises

Copyright © 2008 #03
4/12/2008 // (Edited: 1/22/2013/lp
(a historical glimpse of humanity's rise)

*This poetic epic begins with the
greatest sin against humanity

*This poem is dedicated to all
serving and protecting the
¨Basic Rights of Mankind¨

Once, mankind was forgiven from sin
but continue to embrace it like a trend

After the Flood many nations strolled
some didn´t want true history told

All mankind has got to realize
humanity had been vandalized

A few condemmed HIM to a Cross
and mankind became a hope lost

His testimony was like no other
a promise bonding men as brothers

So, was it hate, shame or pride?
The Shroud of Turin now abide

Something embedded itself into minds
their egos separated mankind thru time

From images of Christ to the Sphinx
mankind altered their faces with ink

Societies increased across the land
but some became marauding bands

Enslaved many to learn their ways
called indentured servants nowadays

Learning finally opened many minds
forbidden to most throughout time

Conquering became a lust
many thought they must

Barbarians embraced warfare
believing in war over prayer

Some journeyed to build
but most decided to steal

Robbing nations precious gold
slaughtering the young, and old
another story that was not told

Saw oppressing others was nice
ensnared some as their sacrifice

Oppression increased in the land
because of the barbarian's plan

Their business began to boom
and corruption shot to the moon

America, land of morality and hope
still someone was signing for dope

Capital´ism made a few very rich
sin and immorality, Islam tried to fix
paganism and Communism a glitch
a conflict to shove Christianity in a ditch

Old governments embraced the Klan
still got history's blood on their hand.

Kept society busy with Santa Claus
knowing its origin is spiritually false

They knew global warming was real
maybe too late, this just sent a chill

Interested learning secrets of the brain
Drug gangs driving societies insane

Kids with little future left in sight
hopes dwindled like the Knight

Then, later came Robin Hood
with good news from the wood

Someone revived human rights
still, some decided not to fight

No need for humantarian crises
diabolical plans rolling the dices

These sinful plans between hands
slaughtering the lambs of the land

We need to fix this mess
before we come to rest

Most of  world history twisted
some are now rying to fix it

For some Nations, it was too late
capital'ism quickly sealed their fate

Africa was a continent very rich
...now realizing it is in a ditch
never should´ve trusted Mitch

I even heard the Rossette Stone
was hidden in someone´s home

The secrets of Giza
painted in Mona Liza

Even the Eyptian Sphinx
tried to give mankind a wink
now hides her missing links

And, the pyramids contained a sacred Key
stolen by those not wanting us to be free

Someone hide Pandora´s Box
with final desination Fort Knox

Even, saw the Bible's Holy Grail
shipped by Fed-Ex Express Mall

Most gold, and precious artifacts
was found stolen, and hijacked

It´s hard for most to understand
they kept us busy with their plan

So, in this life we must cast our vote
moving forward with faith and hope

Those affected have become a scorn
got them hungry from dusk to dawn

World economies causing a recess
ego and pride got us in a big mess

The Middle East became a feast.
I wonder who planned that piece?

They say Mohammed started this fuss.
through history who dare finger Guss?

These differences in world religions
still affecting mankind's decisions

Humanity began in Africa and Irak
but millions destituted in a shack

The Americas to China has similiar pain
but yrants' view them as a social stain

And, there was oil for food
but someone became rude

So, once again East meets West
fighting over another treasure chest

Expenses reaching trillions
recovery costing billions
death in the millions

The greatest gift is charity
why concentrate on disparity?

We need to fix this mess
or earth soon to rest

Mismanagement of world funds
resources available by the tons

The poor and depair need more
still someone's locking the door

Feeling no guilt with pride
and the fortunes they hide

Corruption and terrorism sown
by a few of government´s own

Someone´s selfish plans ahead
have now made us very afraid...
maybe baked or nuked instead

Distitute's nourishment is baked dirt
nothing else or their stomachs hurt

Most of the time with nothing to eat
weeping for a peaceful night sleep

The 3 pathways to Heaven are narrow
selfish can learn from the sparrow.

When the next ATOM splits and divide
some gonna try to run and hide
knowing they deceived many and lied

So, don´t worry about a thing tonight
soon GOD will make things alright

Then, all children will be able to play
The Prince of Peace will come to stay

So, remember before it´s over
they too needed a shoulder

by: LP


Long poem by matthew harris | Details |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Long poem by Isaiah Zerbst | Details |

The Lily Maid of Astolat

The knight of knights, Sir Lancelot,
From far away in Camelot,
Went by a way that he knew not
And thus, by chance, spied Astolat
With sunset's gleam upon her tow'rs:
T'was there he met the maid Elaine,
With hair as golden fields of grain-
A lily in the springtime rain-
The fairest of the flow'rs.

With her he left his fearsome shield;
That of her brother, Torre did wield:
At last to her desire did yield
To wear her favour on the field-
A sleeve of red with pearls.
Then to the diamond joust away,
Lavaine and he rode to the fray,
Departing at the break of day
To fight with kings and earls.

She took the shield and lightly step't
Up where she watched as off they leapt,
And there the mighty emblem kept
Beside the bed in which she slept;
The mystic azure lions traced:
She never left it there, it seemed;
She watched by day, at night she dreamed;
She woke each morn as sunlight gleamed
From it to light her lovely face.

Sir Lancelot, wounded, won the prize-
His shield still mirrors her azure eyes;
Not knowing if he lives or dies,
Nor knows she yet the place he lies.
But lo! There comes the knight Gawain;
He bears the prize to he who won,
Not finding him, his quest is done;
The prize he leaves, both mount and run-
But she to find where he is lain.

Sir Torre and she their horses drave,
'Till long at last they found a cave,
The knight within, and near the grave:
Elaine her greatest efforts gave
To save him from death's gaping door.
Through dawn or twilight lightly glides
The lily maid to where he hides
And by his wasted form abides,
His olden glories to restore.

Some months had passed, and whole once more
He offered half his treasure store,
A kingdom's land, or three, or four,
But none of this she cared ought for-
She wanted him, and him alone:
But no, another held his heart.
E'en though it tore hers right apart
Without a glance did he depart;
He left her there to groan.

Without a parting kiss goodbye
She sulked about, but would not cry;
She sicker grew as days crawled by
Until she knew that she would die,
And of a heart that broke:
She sang "A Song of Love and Death"
With wondrous voice but halting breath;
Her heart in song she openeth-
Of never-dying love she spoke.

"My love undying e'er shall be
Though love has been the death of me:
Though sweet is love in company,
One cannot love, the other flee-
I now depart to sweetest bliss.
I wish I knew, but I cannot
If death is sweet as love is not,
When all my pain I have forgot-
As death bestows his frozen kiss."

Her final words of love she wrote
And sealed them in a little note
To place beside her in the boat
Which she desired her body float
To far away in Camelot:
Then with a pretty little sigh
Her soul to realms unknown did fly-
In such a manner chanced to die
The lily maid of Astolat.

Bathed in the misty morning light,
Arrayed in dress of purest white,
Boat decked about with black samite,
Her letter clasped to bosom tight,
A lily close beside it borne,
She drifted down the silent stream;
As if but lost in pleasant dreams,
For on her fairest face was seen
The faintest smile, bright as morn.

No sound of drip or rush or splash
Was heard within that samite sash,
Naught caused that bark to rock or dash;
The waves becalmed their muffled crash
As by them slipped the lily maid:
For all who saw were sore amazed
And soundlessly they paused and gazed
'Till Camelot's walls the boat had grazed,
At which it stopped and firmly stayed.

King Arthur saw her queenly bed,
The letter by her golden head;
To all the court her words he read,
And this is what the missive said:
"My noble lord, Sir Lancelot,
No parting kiss to me you gave,
Therefore I came from o'er the grave-
Bestow it now my soul to save.
The lily maid of Astolat."

Sir Lancelot, heartbroken too
Knelt by her side her will to do,
His arms about her shoulders threw
And to his own her lips he drew-
'Twas love by love at last returned.
But love, once lost cannot be found,
And life, once lost is claimed by ground
That wraps his heartless arms around
A heart that once with passion burned.

Above her grave a statue stands,
A note and lily in her hands
Which says to all of distant lands,
"Love, e'er your loved has loosed the bands
That tie them to this life and breath;
Love, e'er the storm has swept away
The pure, the good of yesterday,
And left in place but lifeless clay
When love is scorned and lost to death."



{Written by Isaiah Zerbst on the nineteenth of August, in the year of Our Lord, two thousand and fourteen;
Published on the twenty-first of the same.}


Long poem by Keith Bickerstaffe | Details |

Obsession


...inspired by 'Portrait Of A Lady' by T.S. Eliot


On winter days the view outside is nebulous at best,
within, the furniture is as it always was, and I am waiting,
waiting for a glimpse of you to silence my equivocating.
Somber is my attitude, the light is dim, curtains at rest,
as dust mites dance, the clock ticks unobtrusively,
marking time, the chamber maids make ready for my guest,
and dust the tables, clean the silver, place the flowers perfectly.
You return from 'La Boheme,' affected by the tragedy, 
emboldened by Puccini's art, transfiguring his sadness
to an everlasting theme of hope eternal, with no misery.
A small group of confederates who seize the meaning clearly,
examine his conceptions with a true and honest face,
only those who can conceptualize his grace.
And we are bereft of conversation.
The curtain falls between our faces,
we are left with little else to say.
Gone are common talk, and airs and graces,
walls have grown, and bars along the way.
Your friends have grown in stature, tried and true,
reflecting what you feel within your soul,
and you must follow them and share their view,
as long as it will bring you to your goal.
Friendship is a bond that can't be broken,
even though you dally with your heart,
you cannot spring the lock, that sacred token,
that keeps your deepest feelings true to art.
Your friends are pure disciples of your creed,
they will legitimize your need
to pave your way to conquer and succeed.

Within the mellow of the violins,
the sweetness of the celli and the horns,
I hear a tattoo beating all alone,
the tympani begin to pound 
a loud crescendo of their own.
I listen, there is something out of tone.
With cigarettes and sherry, unconcerned,
we wander through the garden unaware, 
take in the sights and pass without a care,
as if our similarities don't matter,
we give ourselves to nonsense, idle chatter.

Roses now are brightly blooming,
to your friends now you are calling.
I know not of what you speak,
I cannot fathom your delight.
You say: 'Try to understand my mission,
learn to trust in things unseen,
I must find what nature seeks
and fathom its eternal meaning.
Youth will never gather roses,
never see beyond the garden.'
I will stay for now, trapped in the cold.

Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.

We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.

Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says who has satisfied
requirements for a better life?
Friendship, if we could but find it,
yields the seeds of greater profit,
greater than the seeds of strife.

I now remain just as I ever was.

I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted 
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a new perception, I must sadly 
take exception, for the moment anyway.

The chill of morning, people yawning,
I am tired, the blush of dawning has me
feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags,
I barely reach the second floor.
'When will you return? Is Paris so much more
than you have here?' is my unanswered question.
I drag my heels to breakfast, 
listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast,
my countenance as pallid as a ghost.

A letter would be welcomed. 
I shall miss you; there, I've said it. 
I am your friend, are you not mine? 
Tenuous and strained, two casual 
acquaintances who share so little time,
we brush elbows, like strangers passing
on a platform, sharing sidelong glances,
afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go.

Others swore we would be close,
peas in a pod, familiar.
Instead there is no warmth, not yet.
Were you to try we might combine
and nibble toast together, and take
a walk, your hand in mine, and
stammer conversation 'til we knew
there was no reason e'er to rue.
I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you.

Desperate, I ponder on your death,
scant breath expended twixt the two of us,
and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention,
pen in hand and no one to subscribe.
I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin,
or search your heart to find what lies within.
Should I be bold, or take a gentler path?
encourage you... would I incur your wrath?
If you were to die I'd never know your truth,
and I should lose the vigour of my youth.


Long poem by Carol Eastman | Details |

That Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…


Long poem by Vicki Acquah | Details |

SCOFFING LOVE

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````March 27, 2013
Vicki Acquah




WHICH WITTY POEM
 DID YOU INSPIRE IN ME,
WHAT SINCERE PRAISE
 DID YOU GIVE MY WORDS
WHEN I THOUGHT 
ENOUGH OF YOU
SEND A POEM YOUR WAY.
WHICH LINE DID YOU WRITE WITH
MY SPIRIT SURROUNDING YOU
.
WHAT SONG DID YOU SING WHEN
YOU THOUGHT OF MY NAME
WHY DID YOU SAY YOU LOVED ME.
WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MAKE YOU SMILE,
HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HEAD ANYHOW
.
WHAT PART OF ME DID YOU AROUSE.
WHY DO I SAY I LOVE YOU.?
WERE YOU SINCERE WHEN YOU SAID "AMEN"
TO THE WISDOM THAT I SHARED
WERE YOU ONE OF THOSE WHO THOUGHT
YOUR MOCKING,WAS MORE VALUABLE
THAN COMPLIANCE.
 
 I HAVE LIVED WITH THE
RESENTMENTS OF SCOFFERS.
I DIGEST YOUR RESPONSE WITH A GULP..
I THOUGHT SO MUCH BETTER OF YOU.
 
I DO NOT HAVE A REAL CLUE-AS TO WHY YOU
WOULD BE THE ONE TO UNDERMINE
AND SCOFF AT LOVE-WITH SNIDE REMARKS
OF FALSE PRIDE;
I WAS CALLED TO THIS THRONE
YOU SEEK TO BANISHING ME FROM.
 
HOWEVER THIS can NEVER BE DONE,
NO MAN CAN PUT ASUNDER
WHAT WAS SET IN MOTION
BY THE HIGHER LAWS OF NATURE
 
I SPEAK OF THE ILLS IN SOCIETY
I SPEAK OF FALSE REALITIES.
WHAT YOU DIDN'T SAY HOLDS FAST INSIDE.
I SAW WHAT YOU DIDN'T DO,
AND WONDER WHY.
 
IN-SPITE OF YOUR MOCKERY
I STILL HAVE A LOVE INSIDE OF ME
THAT ADORES THE GREATNESS IN YOU
EVEN IF YOU CHOOSE TO UNDERMINE
THIS ONLY BOTHERS ME
BECAUSE OF THE EFFECT 
IT WILL HAVE ON YOU
 
ONLY MY FRIENDS WHO ARE GENUINE,
WILL CONTINUE TO RIDE ON MY CLOUD NINE.
RECEIVING NO THREATS, AS
HUMAN I BE, HUMAN I AM 
WITH THE ATTRIBUTES OF
GODDESSES AND MAN
 
TAKE WHAT YOU LIKE AND LEAVE THE REST.
BECAUSE OF THE WORTH I SEE IN YOU .
BECAUSE OF THE WORTH I SEE IN YOU .
THAT'S WHY I SO PERFECTLY ...TOLERATE YOU .
AND OF COURSE WHAT IS LEFT 
NEED NOT BE DISTURBED AT BEST
 
ONE DAY YOU WILL FIGURE THINGS OUT,
ONE DAY YOU WILL KNOW WHY
I SHARED A PART OF MY LIFE WITH YOU .
ONE DAY YOU WILL SEE
THE VALUES THATS BEEN  PLACE IN ME
.
BECAUSE OF THE MIRACLE--
OF LOVE AND FATE COMBINED
ONE DAY REASON WILL COMPLY
WITH YOUR FINITE MIND.
I KNOW WHO I AM EVEN 
THOUGH YOU DON'T
YOU DO NOT RIDE ON MY RHYTHM
OR STEP TO MY DRUMBEAT.
 
BUT STILL you will -TWEAK TO MY HEARTBEAT.
YET MORE WILL BE UNDERSTOOD BYE AND BYE..
AND FOR THOSE WHO FEEL,AND
APPRECIATE EACH OTHERS POETRY or story                                                      
EVENTUALLY ...THE reason will BE REVEALED
 
SO... WHEN THE SLIPPERY HAND OF HOPE IS
EXTENDED UNTO YOU
REACH UP AND GRAB IT
MAKE SURE YOUR GRIP IS FIRM.
 
BECAUSE WHO KNOWS 
WHY SCOFFERS SCOFF 
WHEN LOVE SPEAKS OUT OF CONCERN 
JUST BE PATIENT AND WAIT
SINCERITY AND LOVE
NEVER NEEDS DEFENDING .
ALL YOU LESS CALLOUS , 
WHO SEEK UNDERSTANDING
AS OPPOSED TO MALICE
 
I WILL JUST WAIT AT THE MOUNTAIN TOP  
ONE DAY WITH OPEN EYES YOU'LL COME
THE SLACKERS SHALL JOIN US THERE. 
NO NEED TO COMPARE,WE ALL NEED PRAYER
 
AS LONG AS WE ARE NOT STUCK IN RUTS
OR ON THE SLIPPERY SLOPE OF CONTEMPT 
AS LONG AS WE WHO HOLD THE ROPE 
ARE WILLING TO PULL OUR BROTHERS UP
WITH OUR WORDS,THE POETS WORDS  
THE MESSAGE FOR THE MASSES IS HOPE..
.
SO I LIVE FOR THE POEMS YOU SEND MY WAY 
FOR I GROW STRONG IN OUR RELATIONSHIP 
SAILED BY THE WINDS OF YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT
TO MY POETS MY TRUE FRIENDS,
I TRULY KNOW WHO YOU ARE, and...
DON'T EVER THINK I DON'T.              

  EVENTUALLY ...THE MEANING OF THINGS WILL 
BE REVEALED, SO... WHO KNOWS WHY SCOFFERS 
SCOFF WHEN EVER LOVE SPEAKS OUT.
 JUST BE PATIENT AND WAIT, SINCERITY AND LOVE
 NEVER NEEDS DEFENDING 

.ALL YOU LESS CALLOUS PEOPLE,WHO SEEK 
UNDERSTANDING AS OPPOSED TO MALICE, JUST WAIT
 AT THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN. 
ONE DAY WITH OPEN EYES 
THE SLACKERS SHALL JOIN YOU THERE. 
NO NEED TO COMPARE,WE ALL NEED PRAYER,
AS LONG AS WE ARE NOT STUCK ON THE
SLIPPERY SLOPE, OF CONTEMPT , 
AS LONG AS WE WHO HOLD THE ROPE
 ARE WILLING TO PULL OUR BROTHER UP

WITH OUR WORDS,THE POETS WORDS :
 THE MESSAGE FOR THE MASSES IS HOPE..
.SO I LIVE FOR THE POEMS YOU SEND MY WAY,

 FOR I GROW STRONG IN OUR RELATIONSHIP 

BY THE WINDS OF YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT,

TO MY POETS MY TRUE FRIENDS

,I TRULY KNOW WHO YOU ARE,
 DON'T EVER THINK I DON'T.


Long poem by Leon Enriquez | Details |

CHINA TOUR THOUGHTS 3


China Tour Diary Moment #3
SHANGRI-LA, TIBET
--------------------------------


Paradise on earth: Himalayan range;
A phenomenon carved by elements;
Here magic gives birth to ways that seem strange;
A place where lessons of soul mark movement.


Our tour coach winds round the mountain terrain;
Drive on man-made roads and excitement here;
High above the ground, feel Spirit's refrain;
See wonder purge loads as soul knows fond cheer.


Feel the calm ambience on this grand vista;
Our tour group enroute with highway mileage;
Notice a radiance beyond agenda;
Shangri-la calls out in hidden lineage.


Four hours on-the-road with punctuated stops:
And then our eyes sight the Himalayas;
Cold air sifts heat load as bones feel cold mop;
There's a mystic light that comes in layers.


I feel the splendour of an unseen touch;
There is a measure of peace that surrounds;
I sense a grandeur, an aura as such;
There is calm treasure in Tibetian grounds.


Now I start to know why I've always felt
The allure that calls me to this strange place;
No logic can show the knowing that melts;
Understanding frees reason with sure grace.


Mister Mao's China annexed old Tibet;
The surge of new change has come to this land;
Modern agendas have altered mindsets;
Now ancient and strange meet a reformed blend.


Here, the ancient lores permeate the culture;
Ways of new and old mix and mingle free;
Yet yarns from before linger to nurture;
The life streams unfold in primal beauty.


There is a certain atmosphere serene;
An unspoken feel, an unseen presence;
How can I contain what words find extreme;
Beyond mere goodwill, a visage transient.


Perhaps my musings are self-engendered;
Still, I sense a touch beyond description;
I wrestle feelings to learn things tender;
A pulse and a nudge hints contemplation.


Herein I realise a man's life reveals
Moments and outcomes as change casts a light;
Heed glimpse beyond eyes that grace now fulfills;
A certain light sums splendour beyond sight.


Tibet weaves a charm with calm caresses;
The land breathes and tells in soul vibrations;
Grazing grounds and farms, and homestead houses;
On stillness I dwell in meditation.


We check a road map that cites agenda;
Stroll through ancient grounds to match new-found sights;
Climb a hundred steps to a pagoda;
We greet lost and found in the midday light.


Capture a brief stay with silent prayer;
Walk through temple hall as icons preside;
Allow heart to stray with true wayfarer;
Feel calmness mingle as silence provides.


The day follows swift in twists and turns here;
A sojourn that sends us deeper within;
Here we turn the cliff and help our hearts steer;
The bold homeward trend to moments unseen.


Mountains and valleys loom in pleasant sight;
A personal space between man and grace;
Joy fills the alleys with spring time delights;
Notice time and place reveal a sure pace.


The song of the wind can be heard howling;
No human voice can imitate this poise;
It comes yet unseen to groom brief stirrings;
Touch can thus rejoice with soul's preferred choice.


In the new dawning, we tour the vast park;
Take a coach upwards, climb the mountain road;
Then hike surroundings to sightsee our marks;
We circle towards where the end unloads.


Yet, brisk as we come, too soon we depart;
The sun plunges slow as coach speeds away;
Awareness now sums in soul, mind and heart;
No words can frame glow that settles our stay.


As our day retires, we find fruitful rest;
There is a feeling of a day well-spent;
Gratitude fuels fire as sleep cultures fest;
Sunset concealing as cold winds attend.


Tomorrow we take the road somewhere far;
This feeling of calm will bless our journey;
Movement surely makes spring time moments star;
Spirit's healing balm soothes pulse and sets free.


Beyond time and space, a continuum strange;
Know then that love dwells within and around;
Greet soul face-to-face in full depth and range;
Allow poise to tell fond joy that peace grounds.



Leon Enriquez
28 May 2014
Singapore

(Note: Written in China, Shangri-la, Tibet on Monday 26 May.)


Long Poems