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Long poem by Debbie Duncan | Details |

BY THE SEA

PART One,,,, as she saw it.


The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.
 It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way !

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
               
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  What ever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me , surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny  beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it .

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their  new born looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a prefect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest. Of a beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen a another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting  and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature , with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted  allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather then the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with it's fire. I felt the beginnings of ,,,,,,,,,,   

   

   Nov. 18 1992,,,, Short story I started to write, A friend ask if he could write from a males point of view.


Long poem by Chris D. Aechtner | Details |

23 warning signs that you are severely addicted to poetrysoup dot com



1) Since you have such a crazy drive to post every thought which goes through your mind, you consider posting your grocery lists.

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+/-


Long poem by James Kelley | Details |

As the Castle Fell

For every step I take toward the sun,
the spark that lit the fire inside me dwindles.
History slated on unforgiving stone erodes;
A weakly chiseled dream.
But I will remember it all,
and tongues shall breed these words
and hold them with intent.
Oh, how we have fallen!
Mighty and meek alike.
We were once just, and strong.
But greatness has cast down it's
poisoned banquet and corrupted hearts
that once bled for glory.
It is with a bitter tongue I speak these words!
Remember the reason we set foot outside
of our city gates.
Remember the certainty in your hearts;
that we men would give people hope!
Hope for life without malice.
Hope for a life of freedom!
A chance for prosperity!
                   ...but what prosperity have we given?
Short of the bountiful throng of arrows that have captured
the eyes of this land and left it's people in fear?
Does a just King rule with the might of fear?!
Or does a King rule with compassion?
I ask you men,
you loyal few.
What would you have me do?
Would you have me slaughter this woman;
this beautiful princess of her people and take her
home as a prize for conquest merely because her
husband was the one that stood in the way?
Is her beauty the cost of her life?
She has wronged not one of us,
and yet you Brakkdus scoff at the thought of
her surviving her King. Why?
Here I thought men of honor followed me,
I thought men of courage swung my blades!
And, yet you fear this woman who could no
sooner do you harm than your own from the
bed that you left her in!
No, Princess Xavia shall survive her King
and remain here with her people.
I refuse to conquer the land of a tyrant,
only to settle for it's fallen ruler's morality!
If that does not befit you, then surely I am not your King.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
 
 
Princess Xavia's Response
 
 
I stand with humility before such valor
My people have borne
the burden of swords and arrows,
they are silent with fear and trembling before you
Which would be yours
to burden them with once again
yet you offer them freedom
and me my life...when you could shame not only me
but those who are entrusted to me
I would prefer to fall upon the blades of your men
than to become flesh passed amongst them
the destiny of a woman
who has became the chattel of a lost victory
My blood be shed before such shame
be cast upon me
Yet you.... you have offered me back my Kingdom
and restored my name
 
Gallant your soul in the shadow of such a night
beneath the dark stars
where only the flames of a burnt, ashen city
provide any warmth for my grieving people
You have offered them hope
through a frail vessel such as myself,
such honor is seldom written upon the hearts of men
in days such as these
Your compassion is a light in this darkness
these times inscribed with blood
such is this age,
when the voice of stones speak more gently
than the hearts of men
 
Dark are these days and black is the moon
of these nights,
in these lost reveries we journey through
dreams that have become nightmares
Yet strength has arisen in one man,
a leader who throws light back
at the fallen stars
granting the nights a moment of solace
for your honor has returned hope
a light stronger than blaze of the midday sun
 
And as I take back my broken people
we shall take refuge in your kindness and in that light of lights
shall we rebuild this Kingdom,
our sanguine ties shall bind us
and we will rise.
 
 
I gratefully accept my life
returned to me through your kind hands
And secretly, within a whisper
it is my prayer
that when I look upon your countenance
and the time comes
that I shall gaze into your eyes again
it shall be as the queen you have restored
to her throne and to her people
and who keeps quietly within the space between her heartbeats
gratitude...
and the hope that she will share her throne
beside yous
should you find her efforts and her heart
worthy.
 
 
 
(c)  Katherine Wyatt 2013


Long poem by Spenser Jones | Details |

LOVE POEM MEDLEY PART 2

Sometimes everything seems fake to me, and I am so tired of people acting like they remember what love is. 
Everyone says it. 
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” 
No words are more meaningful to me when sailing from the lips of a true friend or a kindred spirit, but the rest of you have to be careful where you point those syllables 
because that’s like taking the closest thing to

 the Lord’s name that I ever understood
in vain. 
I was walking back from the gas station a few weeks ago and some girl I didn’t even know looked at me and said it. 
Her lip gloss opening and closing like some kind of sea creature fishing for plankton, and I just happened to be the nearest thing drifting past.
“Love you!”, like it was hello. 
Now I have just one question
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN” 
You have no idea what I am. 
My smile’s like this because my parents had the money. 
My eyes are not the windows to my soul. 
They don’t mean jack except for genetics that I had no control over, and what my mother ate when I was in utero. 
That’s like acting like my poetry is who I am. 
Like how myelinated the neurons in my linguistics center 
I can feel the right to decide that I am more or less, valuable. 
It happened again earlier too.
I was sitting on the greyhound back home, having a conversation with a girl with guys all around her like fire ants with their mating tubes out. All of them with ink, piercings, and sizing me up 
because my six-foot-four stature could not speak for itself.
I’d like to think we talked about something more important than my assets and destination, but as she turned to disappear out of the bus with her escorts, she cast the three words back on me
like throwing a fishing line on the off chance something might bite,
“I love ya.”
….what in the world. 
After this, I think of the only one whose words held their weight. 
I don’t mean no harshness, 
but if I could go back in time and have half the balls my poetry does, I’d take you aside, and tell you something you wouldn’t understand. Something like, “BAM! I am a tulip field on fire at sunset.” 
Something like, “My shirt, is from the Goodwill.” 
Something like, “You’re telling me Christ could have saved the world with His cheekbones?”
“You’re telling me I’m viable and worth a few minutes of your attention?”
“You’re telling me tall, black, and attractive is what’s in this century?” 
But let me tell you.
You don’t have any idea of the size of the planets you’re saying you want to try and swallow when you say those words to me. 
I’ve been waiting to be able to hear, feel, taste, smell, and know those words for too long. You have to mean them to say them. 
But you see, I was a philosopher before I was a poet, so I have to take that back and reflect it on myself. 
The truth is, I’m so confused that sometimes, I don’t know which end my head is at.

Poetry flies in my eyeballs that should never make it past my lips, but I’m getting tired of trying to impress people. 
In this past month, I’ve been day dreaming about the girl smiling at me and it meaning more than
“You look like you got good genetics”
Or
“Could I please date your self esteem?”
I’ve been day dreaming of the girl who reminded me of what those three words are supposed to mean. 
Like when my acne came back, and you told me not to scratch at a handsome face.
“I love you.”
Like when my poetry departs, and all I can do is ramble things too big for my head. 
“I love you.” 
Like when I didn’t feel like just a romantic stereo type anymore. 
“I love you.” 
What those words meant to me, before I made the world make them less.


Long poem by liam mcdaid | Details |

Always a Dream

Always a Dream

A little fairy princess one day sits resting on a most beautiful sunflower,
And magically she begins stretching her wings for anticipatory flight
While capturing a vision assortment of most bright flying colors, 
Of one gentle and soothing rainbow promise—a shining and a light to delight;
As the ground begins to tremble and crumble underneath her tiny feet,
She takes flight on her splendid little wings—quite magnificent to behold
Through the colors of mist and the veil of magic she sees a bright sparkling shine, 
And then all becomes clear—she sees gold, and even more gold on the horizon
Radiantly gleaming in front of her very eyes and charming her senses entire.

Then a most curious little green man with curved ears pointing heavenwards 
And possessing remarkably strange and yet soft mesmerizing green eyes, 
Presents himself both kindly and boldly to the little fairy princess in person; 
He jumps right in the pot alongside her dancing a jig to his heart's content,
And the princess shines all colors of love and warmth over him under the mist 
Of a most dazzling and enchanting dream to behold, know, and cherish.

With this the little green man reveals his true nature to his new found princess,
And with a most proud alacrity bearing a quaint princely nature, he declares:
 
“Me Darlin’ little princess so near and so dear to Me own little heart,”
“You must know I’m your Leprechaun always obedient from this very start,”
“At this moment most precious Me knows you’ve captured Me little heart,”
“And with this you’ve captured too Me overflown’ Pot of Gold now in part,”
“With Me undying love and devotion to you always carried in Me little heart.”

With this the Leprechaun and his little fairy princess danced a mystical old
Irish jig together while singin’ and laughin’ both so gently and contentedly;
All the while his soft green eyes and her sensual eyes azure locked in a 
Most romantic gaze and affection when they began kissing one another, 
And brushing inside and both sharing heartfelt fluttering emotions and a
Swelling with a deep beauty and a most passionate love in Heaven born.

With the genuine passion-felt affection and the romantic kisses exchanged,
The Leprechaun and his little fairy princess began to transform themselves
Right before each other’s very eyes, and Behold!!—in a quick moment, the
Leprechaun became a most handsome and sweet loving young prince, and 
His little fairy princess, in a flash of blinding light, lost her wings and changed 
Into a most radiant and quite beautiful young princess with long-flowing 
Beautiful black hair, and a very lovely smile as resplendent and sweet as any
Angel in Heaven above.

Now the handsome young prince and his beautiful young princess were an 
Elegant and most wonderful couple to behold and cherish—kind, smiling, and 
Deeply in love.
 
The young prince with his Irish blessings began sparklin’ and sprinklin’ star dust 
All over his young princess and they both lived happily ever after with pronounced
Passion and love, emotion and devotion, kindness and charity, vision and purpose, 
Forever to their end on Earth and later by the Lord God himself in Heaven. 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights 
Reserved (October 29, 2014) (Narrative poem poetic form)


Long poem by SIMON M MATLOU | Details |

GUILTY AS CHARGED

GUILTY AS CHARGED!


Justice Romantic Romeo : Stand up in court!       
                                                 Case No 345/03/2012
                                                Accused: Ms Provocative Dishonest
                                                Address: 197 Mpopotwane Street
                                                                Sun Valley, Mamelodi West
                                                                0122 
 
                                            
                                             (1)   PARTICULARS OF CHARGES

                                              (1)      Charge 1: Sweeping my heart away.
                                              (1)(a) Alternative charge to charge 1: Stealing away my soul.
                                              (2)     Charge 2: Provocatively hijacking my feelings.
                                              (2)(a) Alternative charge to charge 2: Playing         continuously in my dreams.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
In terms of the Constitution’s Bill of Rights and Ubuntu  Regulations  14(3) that reads with Batho-Pele Principles and Corporate Governance Regulations 18(3),
You performed an act that constituted an offence and you therefore stand accused           

of :

Unlawfully and intentionally sweeping my heart away on 2012/03/16 at 16:00,  On my birthday, on Sunday at 197 Mpopotwane Street, Sun Valley in  Mamelodi West, and alternatively stealing my soul on that day, time and   place.
                              	
                                              AND FURTHER….
                               
  You unlawfully and intentionally, provocatively hijacked my feelings in broad    daylight, in full view of the people, and alternatively played continuously in
                         my dreams every 12:00 midnight from that day until present!
                                               

                                               (2) PLEADING:

Justice Romantic Romeo: How do you plead Ms Provocative Dishonest?
                                              Guilty or not guilty?

                                           
Ms Provocative Dishonest : Eh.........eh...........guilty , my Worship !

                                              
                                                   (3) FINDINGS:

Justice Romantic Romeo  :    Guilty as charged! Guilty on all the charges!
                                              

(4) SENTENCE:

Justice Romantic Romeo  :  Since you pleaded guilty to all the charges,
                                                 I will slap you with this light sentence:

                                               (1) Be the apple of my eye and my lover for life!
(2) With NO PAROLE and NO LEAVE TO APPEAL for this sentence, be the keeper of my dreams!
                                                
                                               (5) COURT ADJOURNS:

Justice Romantic Romeo  : All stand up in court !The court is adjourned, 
                                                And we will live  happily ever after.








Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

Always a Dream

A little fairy princess one day sits resting on a most beautiful sunflower,
And magically she begins stretching her wings for anticipatory flight
While capturing a vision assortment of most bright flying colors, 
Of one gentle and soothing rainbow promise—a shining and a light to delight;
As the ground begins to tremble and crumble underneath her tiny feet,
She takes flight on her splendid little wings—quite magnificent to behold
Through the colors of mist and the veil of magic she sees a bright sparkling shine, 
And then all becomes clear—she sees gold, and even more gold on the horizon
Radiantly gleaming in front of her very eyes and charming her senses entire.

Then a most curious little green man with curved ears pointing heavenwards 
And possessing remarkably strange and yet soft mesmerizing green eyes, 
Presents himself both kindly and boldly to the little fairy princess in person; 
He jumps right in the pot alongside her dancing a jig to his heart's content,
And the princess shines all colors of love and warmth over him under the mist 
Of a most dazzling and enchanting dream to behold, know, and cherish.

With this the little green man reveals his true nature to his new found princess,
And with a most proud alacrity bearing a quaint princely nature, he declares:
 
“Me Darlin’ little princess so near and so dear to Me own little heart,”
“You must know I’m your Leprechaun always obedient from this very start,”
“At this moment most precious Me knows you’ve captured Me little heart,”
“And with this you’ve captured too Me overflown’ Pot of Gold now in part,”
“With Me undying love and devotion to you always carried in Me little heart.”

With this the Leprechaun and his little fairy princess danced a mystical old
Irish jig together while singin’ and laughin’ both so gently and contentedly;
All the while his soft green eyes and her sensual eyes azure locked in a 
Most romantic gaze and affection when they began kissing one another, 
And brushing inside and both sharing heartfelt fluttering emotions and a
Swelling with a deep beauty and a most passionate love in Heaven born.

With the genuine passion-felt affection and the romantic kisses exchanged,
The Leprechaun and his little fairy princess began to transform themselves
Right before each other’s very eyes, and Behold!!—in a quick moment, the
Leprechaun became a most handsome and sweet loving young prince, and 
His little fairy princess, in a flash of blinding light, lost her wings and changed 
Into a most radiant and quite beautiful young princess with long-flowing 
Beautiful black hair, and a very lovely smile as resplendent and sweet as any
Angel in Heaven above.

Now the handsome young prince and his beautiful young princess were an 
Elegant and most wonderful couple to behold and cherish—kind, smiling, and 
Deeply in love.
 
The young prince with his Irish blessings began sparklin’ and sprinklin’ star dust 
All over his young princess and they both lived happily ever after with pronounced
Passion and love, emotion and devotion, kindness and charity, vision and purpose, 
Forever to their end on Earth and later by the Lord God himself in Heaven. 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights 
Reserved (October 29, 2014) (Narrative poem poetic form)


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

You Were Only Feeling For Game

CHORUS: I can see you in the reflection of the waters behind closed eyes…
It’s crystal clear that you were this dark, fallen angel all over again – how did I know you became so corrupted? I’m sorry this happened to you, yet I don’t feel guilty for what you’ve done
You haven’t won this battle between us – I will not listen to your lies
I remember how I used to orbit around you as if I was the sun, orbiting the Earth…don’t ignore the pain that is going to eventually drive us insane – we will run hand in hand in the glistening sun

Every shard of you and I’s memories shatter unto the ground without a sound
You left me out of nowhere – you don’t feel for me…you were only feeling for game
Tell me – did you even imagine our relationship working out perfectly and peaceably? You were spellbound and I was gravity-bound…we were once lost, but never found
You dropped me unto the floor as if I was useless like rubbish on the ground…as if I was lame…
Be careful what you wish for
What’s behind the closed door?
You open in curiosity
I see you wandering around sheepishly…
Now who’s the lame one?
Now, who’s the trash in the trash can?
Who has gone missing? Who has won?
I caught you by surprise…now, you’re as hot as the bottom of a pan
After it’s heated by fire…
You pushed you down and I caused your demise…I pushed you into that death cart
All because of my desire
To get rid of the disgrace marked in the core of my heart…it’s not my fault that you decided to depart
You decided to depart from the arms of peace-abiding angels
Instead, you fell victim to the arms of discord-weaving devils

CHORUS: I can see you in the reflection of the waters behind closed eyes…
It’s crystal clear that you were this dark, fallen angel all over again – how did I know you became so corrupted? I’m sorry this happened to you, yet I don’t feel guilty for what you’ve done
You haven’t won this battle between us – I will not listen to your lies
I remember how I used to orbit around you as if I was the sun, orbiting the Earth…don’t ignore the pain that is going to eventually drive us insane – we will run hand in hand in the glistening sun

I was out of my mind when I was infatuated with you with a gutter mind
You were the best thing I never could grasp…it sucked to be at that moment when you left me in the dust & you blew things into proportion 
I wanted you to the extreme and you ruined everything I once loved – are you out of your mind? Are you a hopeless romantic individual that’s really, really blind?
Don’t underestimate the powers I hold in my hands…you turned into a wolf in sheep’s clothing – I’m through with you and your thoughtless actions…I n-need a portion
I need a portion of Your satisfaction…
Give me a fraction…where shall I begin when my mind is pilin’ high with sin?
Of your peace of mind, Oh Lord of Accord…
I-I cannot afford…losing contact with you again…where have you been? 

You haven’t won this battle between us – I will not listen to your lies
I can see you in the reflection of the waters behind closed eyes…

But, my father kept telling me in my ears:
There is always a rainbow after a rainstorm, though that rainbow may not appear for many, many years


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

For Years

For Years !!!

Four years have been on the run, on the wane
and yet, I still feel your beauty, still feel the pain
that came with – an end – the end you made me aware,
of, we, will no longer be, from then on, I’ve lived in despair,
missing your Asian Beauty, your Oriental Charm,
that did, once upon a time, hang tightly onto my arm.

Now it is all gone, fading upon the pages of history.
The joys, the pleasures, the closeness are but a story
of a love that may not have been more than an illusion
of my blind desire, I was willing to accept the delusion,
live within the mystery of your dark and beautiful eyes,
accept the reality, of seeing you create, so many blue skies.

Four years have been on the run, on the wane,
all that I know, is, being your friend, I will gain
– every once in a while – an opportunity to spend
a little time with you, bask in the light of my dream,
a dream I have watched, into outer space, you send,
as I sit on the edge of it and watch it float downstream.

Yet this old man cannot seem to let go of his desire
to have you rekindle the flame, setting his heart a fire
with all that beauty, beauty that he came to know
as he touched, tasted, experienced what you did and did not show.
This I do know !, I love you still, and it seems that I always will.
It was too short, never had a chance to matured, I never got my fill.
Four years have been on the run, on the wane,
and my heart still bleeds, pouring down like rain.
All that remains, are the visions I see in my head !
This fills my heart, my soul - my spirit, it has not fed.
I live with the knowledge, nothing I will be, but your friend.
This, I will carry to my grave, for me, you will never end.

I still see you coming in ecstatic waves, upon my black sea,
knowing, consciously, that with you again, I will never be.
This, within, is a deep sadness that is hard to overcome, for me,
yet I should know ?, as every time we are together, soon you flee,
leaving me behind, and all that remains or traces of your shadow,
a shadow that lingers behind, etched upon the pain of my window.

Four years have been on the run, on the wane.
Like it was yesterday, I still I feel you, but such a strain
upon the eye, the door that opens into the heart of my soul.
A soul that lived a life time of heart ache, heart ache it doth know
only to well, as memories of a checkered past, weigh, like lead
upon my hours, upon my days and like you, constantly fill my head.

In my mind’s eye, I see you often, so many reflections
drift across the mirrored surface of my recollections.
Is that mirror, in a carnival fun house ?, depicting distortion ?,
where all the images I perceive, are not but, states of contortion.
I often wonder ?, why an old man hangs on, so tightly, to a young dream,
long after the actress has played her last scene upon the big screen.

Four years have been on the run, on the wane,
and I do know, I will never know your beauty again,
except in the deep dark recesses of my memory’s hoard
where all the adventures, the moments we shared are stored.
Can it be ?, a hopeless, helpless romantic am I.
Have I been out of my element ?, trying to reach for the sky.

B. J. “A” 2
July 13th 2014


Long poem by arthur vaso | Details |

Notes on Sister Aimee

Ah the cake before the icing!!!!!! 

Notes:

Aimee Semple McPherson (October 9, 1890 – September 27, 1944), also known as Sister Aimee, was a Canadian born in Salford, Ontario. She was a Los Angeles–based evangelist and media celebrity in the 1920s and 1930s.She founded the Foursquare Church. McPherson has been noted as a pioneer in the use of modern media, especially radio, and was the second woman to be granted a broadcast license. She used radio to draw on the growing appeal of popular entertainment in North America and incorporated other forms into her weekly sermons at Angelus Temple.

In her time she was the most publicized Christian evangelist, surpassing Billy Sunday and her other predecessors. She conducted public faith-healing demonstrations before large crowds, allegedly healing tens of thousands of people. News coverage sensationalized misfortunes with family and church members; particularly inflaming accusations she had fabricated her reported kidnapping, turning it into a national spectacle. McPherson's preaching style, extensive charity work and ecumenical contributions were a major influence in revitalization of American Evangelical Christianity in the 20th century.

Verse 1  Salford is the town in which she was born

Verse 2  As a teenager she would question visiting preachers about the existence of God

Verse 3  As a child she would often play “salvation army” 

Verse 4  She was known to understand men speaking in tongues even they did not know
She married a man Semple, thus the play on words, simple, Semple, they                     traveled the world preaching, where he does of malaria in Hong Kong

Verse 5  Her husband Semple left her with child, whom she named “Star”

Verse 6  She remarried and tried to be a good wife, however her calling was to preach,             during this time she was known to be obsessive about cleaning, however her children say that she was also a very loving mother, as a housewife as well as when she went back to preaching.

Verse 7  In Los Angles she formed the the “Temple of Angelus”

Verse 8  Is about her disappearance from Venice Beach in California, and re emerging in a town in Mexico 

Verse 9  The ultimate Kiss was a famous song by a Mexican group in  the 1960’s from the town where she re-appeared “ Aqua Prietas”   Brown Water in English. Echos, refers to Echo Park a place in Los Angles where she formed her church.

Verse 10 sensuous sermonizer is a quote by Cole Porter describing Aimee. She was known for feeding the poor during the depression, something the government was failing to do, as well s healing the sick, and although not always successful, there are some famous accounts of her success. She was known for using theater, music and radio to bring the world of god to the people, thus bring ancient ways to modern times, and many an Evangelist would copy her style, both the sincere and the false.

Verse 11 She was a known insomniac who could not sleep, and died of an over dose of sedatives. “a splendid score” refers to her ability to put on Broadway type shows to deliver her message, people would line up for blocks to see her productions.


Long Poems