Long Sports Poems. These are the most popular long Sports by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sports poems by poem length and keyword.
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You might wonder what happens during the course of the day with a profiler. I'm known as the watcher. Little insignificant things can make the difference in cracking a case. A subtle glance, a dilated pupil the tightening of a jaw. Let me take you back to yesterday so you will understand.
"Rick I need you to come in here." "Alright captain, what do you have for me?" "We have an Arson on our hands, Rodrigues is interviewing the family now." "What do we know about them captain?" "Husband and wife are separated, the daughter was living with the mom in the family home. Nothing left of the home, burnt to the ground." "Do we know where the fire started?" "Yes it looks like it started in the girls bedroom. Enough talking Rick lets pay attention to what's going on."
Captain Branson is an impatient man, he thinks this watcher stuff is a pile of bullshit. He's all about old fashioned police work. Still here I am detective first class with a pile of successes under my belt. So the upper brass have thrust me upon him. He tolerates me, in private he tells his buddy's I'm a lucky sh*t and one day my luck is going to run out.
I looked through the one way glass into the interrogation room. The dad was sitting furthest away. He is dressed impeccably dark blue suit, white shirt and a red tie with matching handkerchief. He also sports a hundred dollar haircut and speaks with controlled precision. While he speaks he looks at Rodriguez with a certain disdain. His arms are folded and he keep looking down at his watch.
The daughter is a contrast in opposites, unkept purple hair and wearing a black loose fitting dress. There are scratches on her arm that she is picking at. Several piercings adorn her lips nose and eyebrows. On her shoulder there is a broken heart tattoo that says Daddy's Girl.
The wife is a thirty something beauty with long blond hair. She is casual yet elegant, a natural look that has taken hours to achieve. She is on the opposite side of the table from her husband and somehow it does not seem far enough. As her husband speaks her left eye has a subtle twitch.
Rodriguez fidgets with the earbud as he asks the dad if he wants something to drink. The dad snaps back " let's just get this over with I have to get back to work." Rodriguez just smiles and asks the wife and daughter if he can get anything for them. The daughter continues to pick at her arm. The wife politely says "no thank you." "Well then we can get started." Rodriguez gets up opens the door and a large matronly officer enters. Rodriguez asks the daughter and mom to accompany her. The daugter rises and walks with a slow detached gait, her mom follows with a practiced elegance.
Rodriguez looks at the man and says, "let's start with what we know, we know the fire wasn't accidental. There was an accelerant used in your daugters room." The dad looked Rodriguez in the eye and said "so why are you talking to me? I don't even live there anymore." Rodriguez asks the dad where he was between nine and eleven that morning. The man quickly responds that he was working at the office with his assistant. Rodriguez asks if anyone else may have seen him that morning. He says not that he's aware of. Talking through the earbud I ask Rodriguez to end his questioning for now.
Captain Branson says, "we checked the Navigation on his BMW, it shows his vehicle didn't leave the parking lot till three this afternoon. Personally my money is on the crazy daughter, I checked and she started a fire a few years ago behind their neighbors shed." "Ok captain we'll start with her next. I'll be back in a minute I need a cup of coffee." I leave the room just as the dad leaves the interrogation room. Rodriguez motions for him to sit down. As he sits he crosses his legs and I notice he is wearing a new pair of shoes and there is a small white stain on his cuff. Once again I notice him looking at his watch. I walk by him to the coffee machine without him even giving me a glance.
Back in the interrogation room Rodriguez is sitting with the girl, she has yet to make eye contact with him. I tell Rodriguez to start the interview. He does the usual attempt at rapport building but it garnishes no warm and fuzzies. Enough of that he asks her where she was this morning. She says she was out behind the bleachers at school. He asks if anyone can verify her being there. She says no, she was by her self. He asks about the fire behind the neighbors shed. She says "it looks like you have already made up your mind. Why don't you just lock me up?" This is the first time she looks him in the eye. Rodriguez says he just wants to get to the truth. "The truth? No one cares about the truth, why would I burn down my own room?" She looks defiant and hurt, the look of someone who has been accused of many things. I tell Rodrigues enough for now. The captain says "what? Is that it?" "Relax Captain she's not your girl. Rodriguez bring the wife in."
The wife looks a lot more relaxed without the husband in the room. She sits back easily in the chair with her legs crossed gracefully at the ankles. She pulls out a lighter and cigarette and asks if it is okay if she smokes. Rodriguez apologizes and says there is no smoking on the premises. She says "that's okay I'm trying to quit." She tells him she started again after the separation. Rodriguez asks her who she thinks started the fire. She says she has no idea but she can't imagine who would want to burn down their home. She loses her composure for a moment and starts to cry. She looks up at him with her big blue eyes filled with tears. Rodriguez passes her a tissue and asks if she is okay to continue. She says sure she just needs a moment to compose herself. He asks her to tell him about her husband.
OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21
ON 1ST JULY 1990~ THE ANGELS DID SOMETHING ALMIGHTY
FROM HEAVEN THEY SENT US OUR LIFE-LONG DESIRE-A PRECIOUS DAUGHTER TO LOVE AND ADMIRE.
TRUE TO YOUR NATURE YOU ARRIVED WITHOUT FUSS OR PAIN--THE FIRST TIME OUR EYES MET WE KNEW OUR LIVES WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME
AS A BABY AND TODDLER YOU MADE US SO PROUD
YOUR VERY LONG HAIR, GREEN EYES AND SMILE-
ALL THOSE GOOD LOOKS MADE YOU STAND OUT IN A CROWD
YOU STARTED TALKING EARLY WITH MANY VOICEPRINTS
YOUR CHARM AND GOOD LOOKS HAVE NOT STOPPED SINCE
YOU LOVED YOUR DOLLS AND PRAMS-- DREAMT OF BEING A “SINGER”
AND VERY QUICKLY LEARNED HOW TO WRAP YOUR DAD AROUND YOUR LITTLE FINGER
YOUR BIG BROTHER DEVON--BEST FRIEND AND PROTECTER
MOST OF THE TIME YOU GOT ON PERFECTLY TOGETHER
FROM AN EARLY AGE YOU SHOWED YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING
AGE TWO AND A HALF YOU WERE ABLE AND WILLING
TO SWIM UNDER WATER AND DO MANY LENGTHS
THIS WAS CLEARLY ONE OF YOUR SPORTING STRENGTHS
AT AGE THREE YOU COULD BARELY WAIT TO START PLAYSCHOOL
“MISS INDEPENDENCE”, WAS YOUR GENERAL RULE
THE SLIDE AND JUNGLE GYM WERE YOUR FAVOURITE SPOTS
AND TO OUR HORROR YOU WOULD CLIMB RIGHT TO THE TOP!
AT AROUND THIS TIME, YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND YOU MET-
HE LIVED NEXT DOOR, AND HIS NAME WAS BRETT
SOON IT WAS TIME FOR PRE-SCHOOL
YOU LOVED YOUR TEACHER--YOUR NEW FRIENDS WERE COOL
‘SPRING BONNETS’ AND THE END OF YEAR SCHOOL PLAYS
THE TEDDY BEAR CLASS GAVE YOU SOME REAL SPECIAL DAYS
NEXT WAS ‘BIG SCHOOL’ AND YOUR FIRST CLASS
WE WERE SERIOUSLY ANXIOUS BUT FOR YOU JUST ANOTHER ‘MISS INDEPENDENCE’ TASK
LETTERLAND, MATHS AND LEARNING TO READ
YOU EXCELLED AT ALL THAT WITH INCREDIBLE SPEED
YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS CONTINUED THROUGH GRADES 2, 3 AND FOUR
YOUR PLACE IN THE SWIMMING TEAM HELPED YOUR SCHOOL WIN MORE
OUR MOVE TO AUSTRALIA… SAD FAREWELLS TO YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR PETS
BUT, GREAT EXCITEMENT YOU FELT AT ADVENTURES TO BE MET
A NEW SCHOOL--“METHODIST LADIES COLLEGE”
NEW FRIENDS--JUMPING A GRADE-- MET WITH SUCH POSITIVE COURAGE
YOU MADE US SO PROUD IN THE WAY YOU ADAPTED
MRS. WILLIAMSON SAID YOU WERE THEIR NEW CLASS ‘ASSETT’
THE ‘MR BEE’ SPELLING AWARD AND MANY MERITS LATER
WE ALL GOT HOMESICK-- BUT YOUR POSITIVE NATURE DID NOT WAVER
THE DECISION WE MADE TO RETURN TO CAPE TOWN
CAUSED YOU HEARTBROCKEN TEARS AND A PERMANENT FROWN
ONCE AGAIN A SAD FAREWELL TO YOUR NEW FOUND FRIENDS
RETURNING TO S.A. FOR OLD ONES TO MAKE AMMENDS
IT WASN’T VERY LONG THAT YOU PICKED UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF AT ALL
ADDED TO YOUR TALENTS WERE NOW TEAM HOCKEY AND NETBALL
AS YOU APPROACHED THE FIRST OF YOUR TEEN YEARS
WITH YOUR LOOKS AND CHARM, INEVITABLY THE BOYFRIENDS WOULD APPEAR
SHOPPING, MOVIES AND MANY PARTY SLEEP-OVERS
CHOOSING TRUE FRIENDS AND DUMPING THE LOSERS
DANCE SHOWS AND DANCING EXAMS… YOU EXCELLED AT HIP- HOP
FUN AND OF COURSE THE DESIRE TO SHOP
THE END OF JUNIOR SCHOOL-- THE FINAL ASSEMBLY—AWARDS
TROPHIES FOR SPORTSMANSHIP AND YOUR S.R.C. PRIZE GOT MANY APPLAUDS
SAD FEELINGS AT LEAVING YOUR OLD SCHOOL BEHIND
EXCITEMENT AT STARTING HIGH SCHOOL WOULD SOON COME TO MIND
NO PROBLEM TO YOU, IT WAS ALL JUST A BREEZE
AS YEAR BY YEAR YOU CONTINUED TO ACHIEVE
SWIMMING AND ‘A’ TEAM HOCKY MATCHES ON THE ASTRO TURF
YOU EVEN STARTED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF
FRIDAY AFTERNOON CHRISTIAN MEETINGS AND EVENING CHURCH YOUTH
WE WERE SO HAPPY YOU FOUND GOD AND HIS TRUTH
THE REST OF HIGH SCHOOL PASSED IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE WHILE
YOUR LIST OF ACHIEVEMENTS REMAINED EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH
YOUR ORGANISATIONAL SKILLS WERE ASTOUNDING
COPING WITH TOUGH SUBJECTS LIKE MATHS, SCIENCE AND ACCOUNTING
IN HOCKEY AND SWIMMING YOU MADE THE TOP TEAMS
NO SURPRISE AT ALL THAT SWIMMING COACHES MOVED IN ON THE SCENE.
THEY CULTIVATED YOUR TALENTS FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH
EVERY YOUR NIGHT YOUR PASSION SAW YOU DOING MANY LENGTHS
WEEKENDS OF GALA’S AND NATIONAL SWIMMING
S.A.SHORT COURSE, YOUR P.B’S, AND FAIR SHARE OF WINNING
TOGETHER WE CELEBRATED YOUR PLACE IN W.P. SCHOOL CHAMPS THAT YEAR
SO PROUD OF OUR BEAUTIFUL SWIMMER ALWAYS AHEAD OF HER PEERS
FIRST YEAR AT UNIVERSITY YOU BECAME SO INDEPENDENT
STARTING YOUR STUDIES AS A B.Sc. STUDENT
IT WAS ALSO THE YEAR YOU LEARNED TO DRIVE
GOT YOUR LICENSE—DAD SPOILT YOU—NEW CAR—RESPLENDENT
YOUR FAITH AND TRUST IN THE LORD STILL REMAINS FIRM
AS YOU WALK AND GROW SPIRITUALLY DAILY WITH HIM
SO MUCH HAS CHANGED, AND YET SOME THINGS REMAIN
YOU BEAUTY AND TALENTS SO EASILY MAINTAINED
YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING AND OUTSTANDING ACHIEVEMENTS IN WATER
YOU KNOW WE WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR NO. 1 SUPPORTERS
AND NOW YOU ARE 21, SWEETHEART
YOUR WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU-- TODAY IS JUST THE START
IT SEEMS LIKE JUST YESTERDAY THAT YOU WERE BORN—
OUR DAUGHTER~LOVES BRIGHT SHINING LIGHT~ WE ADORE
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED IN EVERY WAY
WISHING YOU GOD’S RICHEST BLESSINGS ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY
HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY GIRL
TO HAVE YOU AS A DAUGHTER HAS BEEN A REAL PLEASURE
-YOU HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL BE OUR MOST BEAUTIFUL TREASURE-
(FOOTNOTE: OUR DAUGHTER WILL BE 23 THIS YEAR, HAS COMPLETED HER BSc. AND HONOURS DEGREE’S IN PHYSIOLOGY AND GENETICS AND NOW DOING HER MASTERS DEGREE IN EXERCISE SCIENCE. SHE IS ALSO A PROFESSIONAL TRIATHLETE—DOING SWIMMING, CYCLING AND RUNNING AS ONE DISCLIPLINE)
That's my dad for you... getting his hands deep into the knitty-gritty, when most others would just back off a safe distance away saying, "No thanks! Maybe when Armageddon comes a'knocking we can talk religion, but right now I'm in the middle of favorite show so.... bye!". I have much respect for him in that sense... a hard working man as well as a man who never stops thinking... even when on the coattails of turning 60. Still in the fields of repairing roofs, fixing leaky pipes, (even building tree-houses for the overly eccentric clients that don't even have kids that would enjoy it). My siblings and I would unanimously agree that he's been in construction since the dawn of time. And in some ways that statement isn't so far off from the truth - depending of course on who's "time" you are referring too. In my heart and soul he will always be high in my book of Highly Admired People. But of course there will always be those personality traits I wish were apart of him. I can say this, in complete honesty, that I don't believe he ever once remembered my birthday. I don't hold it against him by any means. Truth be told he doesn't remember ANY holidays whatsoever (Fourth of July, Christmas, not even his own birthday, bless his soul). He's just not wired that way. To him a holiday is nothing more than a glorified day where telemarketers and business men take full advantage of. "Feel like your mother doesn't appreciate you enough? Well here's something that will change her mind, this coming mother's day. A brand new 24 carat diamond encrusted necklace that's guaranteed to dazzle those eyes. You can beam with pride when you hand it to her... I went to Jared, yes, indeed!". But in some ways I mourn his inability to become engrossed in a monotonous no-nothing conversation. We can't discuss movies, musicians or any upcoming local events. Sometimes I feel as though if the topic isn't of dire importance, he won't give it a second look. Sports won't hold his attention... doesn't everybody know the Superbowl is just a distraction from all the wars going on around us? Doesn't at times, we resemble Hitler hiding his bunker, drinking wine and eating gourmet delicacies of pate and caviar, while the rest of the world is battling it out? Perhaps he's a victim of too much truth and it consumes him... perhaps I just have a truth deficiency and just smile away, in ignorance, at some comedian on the TV, "I have no idea why I'm laughing, but I guess I'll sit awhile, and wait for this steeple of ours to come crashing down upon us." This proves just how much I take after my dad... might as well have a Walmart worthy button pinned to my shirt at all times, "HI! MY NAME IS TIM AND I'M A HOPELESS MELODRAMATIC... FREE SAMPLE?". Truth be told, I guess we both have elements of wisdom and elements of pessimism deeply ingrained into our thick skulls. It's one of the most difficult things in the world to explain the complexities (or in some cases, lack there of) of Garold Hicks. When my friends inquired, I'd cut it short saying, "Well he's different... not all that social I suppose." But I feel that is a great injustice to his personality, to sum it all up in pocket-sized sentence that takes barely more than a short exhale of breath, to let out. It's hard to end this ode of him, and still leave the reader with a clear sense of purpose, or any real sense of conclusion. I guess it's only fitting to end this piece, once and for all, with yet another my dad's witty zingers,
"I used to think I was in indecisive...
... but now I'm not so sure."
NOTE: I wanted to write a piece about my dad for ages, but couldn't find the words. He really is a strange person (and I don't mean to be insulting for I'm very much like him).
Grandpa had a bulldog whose name was Tige.
They were close – as close as honey and bees.
If Grandpa felt a cold comin’ on –
Well Ol’ Tige was the one who would sneeze
Grandpa was noted for his wealth and generosity.
His love for me was demonstrated when he paid my college fees.
The love he held for Tige was almost the same for me.
And ol’ Tige was always with Grandpa wherever he might be.
College life was different then, separation was the norm.
And years at Alma Mater meant years far from the farm.
Students have it difficult and allowances soon shrink
So, short of money there, I soon began to think.
Grandpa, bless his giving heart, quickly came to mind
That bulldog owned his generous heart – if somehow I could find
Some way to convince my grandpa to increase the money sent --
I came upon a devious plan – and this is how it went.
I wrote and told my grandpa, “There’s things you ought to know.
The things they’re doin’ here at school will set your heart aglow.”
“They’re takin’ all these sorts of dogs – it came as quite a shock
Grandpa, you won’t believe me, they’re teachin’ dogs to talk.”
Now grandpa loved ol’ Tige so much it didn’t take him long
To ask how much would it take to send ol’ Tige along?
Well, when I gave a figure, Grandpa was satisfied
If this crazy scheme was figured out, there’s no place I could hide.
I kept feeding grandpa all sorts of good reports
How Tige was a star pupil and mascot of all sports
Two years passed and soon there came the time to take Tige home
Grandpa was so excited -- Tige was never more to roam.
Grandpa came runnin’ when I stepped down off the train.
His eager eyes were searching for what he’d never see again.
“Where’s ol’ Tige?” he asked, as we began to walk.
“He’s not comin’.” I replied, “C’mon we need to talk.”
This morning I was shaving in the bathroom by the sink
And Tige was justa talkin’ when he looked at me and winked.
“Ya know’ he said, “I’ll be so glad to be back home at last.”
There are some things I’ve thought about that went on in the past.”
“I was standin’ at the mirror with my razor in my hand
Ol’ Tige was talkin’ ‘bout some things he couldn’t understand.
I could not believe the lies he told – things he’d seen first hand
Like the times he saw you wrestlin’ with that female hired hand.”
His words just lit a fire with the pictures that he painted
I almost couldn’t help myself – Grandpa, I nearly fainted.
It seems that I lost it some and when I finally woke,
I’d grabbed him by the backa his neck and cut his lyin’ throat.
I know grandpa was shaken, I saw it in his eyes.
A look of consternation he could not disguise
He seemed to be relieved, as he looked at me and said,
“Now, Son, I really need to know, are you sure ol’ Tige is dead?”
Years have hidden the truth of this deception that I wrought.
I’m the one who wove deceptive tales that everybody bought.
But when the truth is told at last and no more lies are found
You’ll gladly find an ending that surely will astound.
Grandpa? -- He now lives with Jesus, and me? -- I’m headed there.
Tige? – I know he’s still around though I shouldn’t tell you where.
We made a pact some years ago when things went awfully bad.
For years he’s been the best darn mascot my school ever had.
John Posey 12/05/12
The Seven Seas of Rhye
A mythical destination for all those that do wrong.
This write sang to the tune of
When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, Hurrah, Hurrah
She sails the high seas of the soup
Searching for a poetry scoop
O YEAH, O YEAH
Her eyes are keen, for she has been
A long time here, a poetry queen
She sails the, HIGH SEAS, of this poetry soup
The sailors standing on their decks
OUR DECKS, OUR DECKS
With kind words she will save our wrecks
HA HA, OUR WRECKS,
The dented bows, she will raise
With an irony, of praise
Then she’ll cast off, WISE ASS, continue on her treks
She sails along, she shows no fear
NO FEAR, I FEAR
Through stormy waters she will steer
WILL STEER, WILL STEER
She needs no man, with guiding hand
She lets you know, to understand
She makes it, QUITE CLEAR, she needs no buck-in-here
You’ll notice that she sports an A
A NAY, A NAY
Lets hope that B, she stays away
A WAY, A WAY
Cause I don’t know, about you
But I could never, handle two
If she ever, TURNS UP, it’s on your knees and pray
She steams through waters very deep
SO DEEP, SO DEEP
She’ll write you verses, make you weep
YOU WEEP, YOU WEEP
Then she’ll traverse, with laughter verse
Her every word, you will rehearse
And her smoke and, MIRRORS, into your faves you keep
Upon her stern, though don’t ask why
ASK WHY, ASK WHY
Poet Destroyer, six foot high
SIX HIGH, SIX HIGH
Upon the waves, you find you toss
But this one, you must never cross
Or she’ll send you, TO THE, Seven Seas of Rhye
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~
~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~~~~
She might send me, ~~~o~ o ~~~~ o ~~ o ~~~~
~ ~~ ~~~ ~ o ~~ TO THE, ~~~~o ~~~ ~~~~
~~~ ~~~ o ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ Seven Seas of Rhye.
~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~~~ o ~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~
The Seven Seas of Rhye
Fear me you lords and lady preachers
I descend upon your earth from the skies
I command your very souls you unbelievers
Bring before me what is mine
Can you hear me you peers and privy councillors
I stand before you naked to the eyes
I will destroy any man who dares abuse my trust
I swear that you'll be mine
Sister I live and lie for you
Mister do or else die
You are mine I possess you
I belong to you forever
Storm the master marathon I'll fly through
By flash and thunder fire I'll survive
Then I'll defy the laws of nature
And come out alive
Then I'll get you
Begone with you short and shady senators
Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries
I challenge the mighty titan and his troubadours
And with a smile
I'll take you to the seven seas of Rhye
Written by Freddie Mercury for the song
Seven Seas of Rhye
Now you might have heard of the phrase “On my one sixteen”
But you might be thinking to yourself, “What does this even mean?”
It means that you are unashamed of Jesus, our Savior
And that you just don’t say it, you let it model your behavior
Now with your friends you talk about sports, school, girls, and lovers
But when it’s time to talk about Jesus, you run and hide under the covers
Now this isn’t the way we were made to react
If the gospel was the Mona Lisa we messed it up and made it abstract
We are to talk about our Lord without feelings of shame
So why do we so often fear to speak of his name?
Now Jesus didn’t come so that we could be shy
So when we are afraid to talk about him, he must ask himself, “Why?”
Now I can see him looking down on us with a tear in his eye
Saying, “These people refuse to accept me, even though for them I came to die”
Jesus died for our sin, he came and washed it all away
He completely destroyed it, it wasn’t made to stay
Now to our sin, we no longer have to be slave
So why is it that we still let our sin control how we behave?
Jesus destroyed our sin to give us a new start
He doesn’t just want you on Sunday mornings, he wants your heart
It’s not a one time thing, Jesus causes a new lifestyle
We must stay faithful to him, no matter what the trial
People are going to hate us for what we believe
They won’t embrace the joy that we receive
Now living a life of one sixteen isn’t going to be easy
You’re going to have to man up when you start to feel queasy
There will be rough times, but it’s worth the reward
We get to have a relationship with Jesus, our Savior and Lord
But this wasn’t free, it was bought with a price
And it happened to be our Lord offered up as a sacrifice
But he took the pain of all our sin, he put it on himself
He didn’t die so that the Bible could be a pretty decoration on our bookshelf
He gave it to us as an instruction manual, because we are in the middle of a war
It’s supposed to guide us and give us hope, not be just another monotonous chore
He gave up everything he had for us, out of his blood love pours
But we keep on running to the arms of another, like a group of unfaithful whores
So how about we turn back to our faithful lover
You may think you’re too sinful to love, that you’ve slipped up and can’t recover
But if you run to God you will discover
That he still loves you, he hasn’t moved on to another
So if you look back at all he has done
Why are we still ashamed to speak of the Son?
Let’s speak of him with confidence and joy in our voices
Because we know he is the best out of any of the other choices
Out of all the ways to live, he’s the only one who will satisfy
So let’s take his word and to our lives let’s let it apply
Let’s shout the name of Jesus all over the land
Let’s cry out this good news that it may grow and expand
Jesus is here to save, this word must be proclaimed
So let’s be on our one sixteen and live life unashamed
A thick, white smog crept through the park that night,
that one color besides black.
Occasionally, street lamps would beam around like wheels
but the lights burned strangely dim.
"Let's shoot the breeze, " he said. And so she did, biding time ;
clinching from the gripped touch as he drew her in his arms
And a single lamplight faintly lit the darkness.
"I'll never make you cry again."His words, his gravel tone...
Her hair flew with the dusky trail of bleak dusk
tangled as raven's wings hiding a face, wet with tears
as icy shiver trembled down the back of her spine.
Lit smoke flickered before it sat to rest on his cigarette tip.
"Will you quit stalling?" he raged. Words, words...cheap.
Her locked heart did not respond till he reversed his track.
"Don't you know, you are most attractive thing I ever had?",
he gently cooed...Thing? An object.
"I'll do as you wish,dearest," his hands stroking her arms...
No!..I want to feel the highest peak of love, she told herself
I want to taste the breath's spirit against my cheeks,
feeling gentleness on my face; to land and melt on my nose
as I look up to the sky. I want to jump into mighty waters
and reach incredible depths of all that authentic love is.
She whispered, "It doesn't matter what I want?",
Her head stoops slightly forward, dazed eyes looking back
at a yet evasive glance. Unemotional, stoic.
As if on cue, she rewinds the ambulance car that brought
her dead husband to the ER. She recalled how he relished
eveything that she was, the way she sang out of tune
and whistled out a sports cheer...
The heart-woman who cried at the opera
and let loose to rock and roll,feeling free twirling around
under the thunder and lightning of a spectacular downfall.
This listless flesh was the one who ran barefoot with her
through fields at night, catching dragonflies and making
wishes before returning them to flight.
And he is dead.
Twilight peeps now as she realizes a grim reality
walking with her head hung low and submitting
to all this man needed in a click of a finger...
An inner voice crawls, "What's the difference between
love and co-dependence? She doesn't speak, knowing
her final truth...
But, it's over.
She drops on her knees rocking back and forth,
humming a lullabye.
“ Many codependents, at some time in their lives,
were true victims – of someone's abuse, neglect, abandonment...
But “rescuing is not an act of love... we don't assume
responsibility for our highest responsibility – ourselves."
~Melody Beattie, Author, 'Codependent No More'
Heather Ober's Moment of Truth Contest
by nette onclaud
~based on relatioship issues from
my counseling work
I claim no responsibility for my acts,
your honor lets look at the facts.
it was a crime of UN-passion,
in a glorious poetic fashion.
He was annoying when he'd snore,
so loud at night it made my ears sore.
and oh yeah when he ate,
His clicking jaw would grate.
chewing with his mouth open wide,
losing my appetite seeing his chewed food inside.
when he was done, belching so loud,
rating it a ten cause he was so damned proud
I'd stare, waiting for his "excuse me" in a polite way,
He'd quote better out than in, I always say.
Gee let's not forget the loads and loads of nasty gas,
the quiet and deadly ones where the stench would last and last.
thinking it funny to pull the covers over my head,
that alone would be attempted murder trying to stink me dead
Scratching and digging examining his balls,
me just shivering thinking, it just might be a bug that crawls
But no, for some reason he thought it was an acceptable way,
to play pocket-pool in spite of what I might think or say.
so yes I plead temporary insanity, I know that excuse is over used,
but I was feeling a little more then put upon and abused.
I am not done your honor I could go on and on,
I could write a book regarding this nasty spawn.
The sex gee if you could call it that,
lasting all of two seconds him contented, I got my ass pat.
and of course scratching and digging his balls,
he got more enjoyment from that, it drove me up walls.
throwing his dirty socks at my face,
complaining that I never clean up this place.
missing the toilet never put up the toilet seat,
sitting on the wet made my life so complete.
and yeah gee I forgot to mention,
the television got more then it's share of attention.
He had to have the remote at all times,
According to him chick flicks weren't worth two dimes.
Night after night he'd watch his sports,
cursing and savoring his disdaining snorts.
oh and a cold beer sat in his other hand,
so smugly superior thinking I'm to jump at his command.
calling, woman! where's my supper, I want it now,
then eating complaining as he scarfed like a sow.
"The food wasn't hot enough, we're having that again?"
I would close my eyes and count to ten.
so I slipped some arsenic in his food one night,
the beer he drank killed the licorice bite.
no your honor, I take no responsibility for me actions,
he had to pay for his major infractions.
this was a mercy killing I have to say,
it was for my sanity that I had to send him away.
divorce wouldn't do, I thought of some poor other sod,
getting stuck with this Neanderthal bi-pod.
so I throw myself on the mercy of the court,
and ask for your pardon and a little support.
Thank you your honor for understand me,
I sincerely appreciate your verdict of not guilty.
The location of the Spring Creek School was on a flat, nestled
between the cliff on the north and the Little White River on the south. The river
flowed in from the northwest, circled to the south of the school about a quarter
mile and wended it's way east departing to the northeast. Though I never saw it
in my day I imagine this was once a flood plain. Yes, at one time this could
easily have been the scene of flash floods. The waters tumbling and sloshing
their way across this insignificant piece of ground in a hurry to reach the exit.
Time had slowed the waters and erosion had taken it's tole, leaving the west and
south in twenty to thirty foot sharp sandy cliffs. The ground sloped to the east
leaving a two foot drop off. A sandy graded road approached the large heavy duty
bridge, crossed and continued on as a trail road.
It's summer and the Little White River gently rolls from bend to bend.
We are running back and forth across the bridge stopping now and then to lean
over the rail and watch the Indian children splashing in the only deep spot. It was
first comers got the choice spot. Big deal! Chest deep to a ten year old.
We run off the bridge south. The graded road crosses a big culvert
allowing a small spring access to the river where it fans out at the point of entry.
We run through the crystal liquid turning it into chocolate and leaving dents in the
once smooth sand. This is a child's paradise. Sand so pure, soft and powdery
warmed by the sun. The deeper we dig the cooler the sand becomes as it is
joined by the moisture below.
Our mothers put limits on our water sports. First: we had to wait an
hour after the meal to get in the water. Second: polio was a concern in our day
and we didn't get to play as often as we thought we should. Third: we were not
allowed to swim unless our mothers were with us. With the gardening, house
keeping and canning, we were lucky if we got to swim two or three times a week.
I guess that is why we spent most of our time on horseback.
On the ridge north of the school stood a lookout tower. In the long
evenings we would be found always outside, either sitting on the steps, running
up and down the fire escapes or in the front yard. This was the only real green
grass in the area. It was fenced to keep cattle or horses from trampling it into the
mirrored image of its surroundings. This enclosure measured fifty by a hundred
feet and was kept watered. A large tree provided the only shade
The surrounding grounds were prairie grasses and brush. Trees were
scattered along the west boundary while the eastern area was furnished with a
heavier growth of various kinds of trees. Willows and buffalo berry bushes lined
the bank. If you were so inclined this would make a perfect spot for a picnic.
This was beyond the school grounds, grasses were tall here.
I mentioned the fire escape. Boy, how we loved these appendages.
They were situated on each end of the school. Access was from windows four
feet off the floor in the bedrooms. We would pull a large wicker lounge chair up
to the window and scramble over the chair using the high back as our final step
as we boost ourselves head first through the window. There usually was a
screen but it was never hooked.
My aunt, uncle and their three children were the only residents of this
school for nine years. I can't remember for sure , but the first five or six years they
did not have electricity. Water, but no electricity. The last two or three years they
had a generator. I just loved it. I remember how proud I was when I had gotten
old enough to carry the kerosene lamp myself.
The lower portion of the school had a ten foot wide hall extending the
entire length of the school with double wide doors at both ends. On the east of
the school it was four steps up, in the front door, a four foot long area then up two
steps up to the main hall. On the right were two large class rooms. On the left
was the kitchen, a bathroom with showers, utility closet then the stairway up to
the apartments and another bathroom, with showers. An entry way leading to the
outside where the front yard was. The commissary, a sewing room and a
garage large enough to house a school bus. The west end of the hall ended
with four steps leading to the outside doors.
West of the school was the building called the CANNERY, it also was
the meeting place for the tribal members and contained three or four weaving
looms. A double garage with a gas pump and two large tanks for gas lay off to
the north of the cannery. A dense growth of trees separated the school from the
barn. It was a well kept large barn. Well used I should add also. At least by us
kids. Other out buildings were two quonset hut buildings and pens, a chicken
house and a couple of sheds for the hog pen, Which I must add was another of
our favorite sports, riding the hogs. All of the buildings were painted white. It
really was a sight to see.