Alexander the Great
Julius Caesar
Genghis Khan
Napoleon Bonaparte
valiant conquerors all
in history’s annals they stand tall
Yet while the back story
may lack fame and glory
it’s not to be ignored…
At home, the ‘little woman’ rules the roost
So, don’t forget, ‘heroes of today’ ~
to thank the lady by whom you were produced
For Jason and his Argonauts, golden wool was theirs to fleece
For the British, Iran's oil was theirs to drill and steal
In '53 the West led Iran's democracy into a tyrant's peace
Now we call the trouble since all part of God's grand will
So many harsh lessons are learned in winter's darkest days
Only to be forgotten as we approach a warm September
Yet in the annals of time the truth is on display
It is incumbent upon us to stop, pause, look and remember
Great work by hands
Walks the annals of history:
Painting, sculpture, writing
Carving, masonry, pottery
Jewelry, carpentry and others
Passed the test of time
Nothing is more beautiful
Than things made by our own hands.
Slaying selflessly at the warfront's edge,
Guarding the land with an indomitable pledge.
Faces etched with patience and pride,
Military spouses and children brave the tide.
Salute to the matriarch that cradles our fighters,
Teary farewells rest on their shoulders.
Immortal spirits slumber in their graves,
Back to the ancestral womb where tribute paves.
Their unyielding valor marks the annals of time,
Inspiring future generations with courage sublime.
Looking past and long ago
trails of names come trickling down
down they come
through the annals of time
their names defined
neatly arranged, in staggered lines.
Forgotten lists of greats and grands
silent, as their memories stand
in the past, immortal bands.
Family trees are carefully writ
down into the logs they go
mothers, fathers reap and sow
bearing children, they bestow
offspring issued in straight rows.
Trailing down to you and I
here we love, we laugh, we cry
living, breathing, this our lives
mortal we, until we die
adding to the rows inscribed.
In every whisper of the gentle breeze,
Love's beauty dances among the trees.
It paints the sky with hues of dawn's light,
And fills the world with pure delight.
In the depths of souls, where secrets lie,
Love's embrace lifts us to the sky.
It binds two hearts in a sacred dance,
A symphony of passion and romance.
Through trials faced and battles won,
Love's touch illuminates each one.
It heals the scars of wounds long past,
And leads us onward, steadfast.
In the annals of time, where stories are told,
Love's legacy shines brighter than gold.
It transcends the limits of earthly bounds,
In hearts and souls, its echo resounds.
In the Hall of Legends, where tales unfold,
Inscribed in time, in letters bold.
Among the heroes, a teacher stands tall,
A legend in whispers, revered by all.
Through the annals of learning, their deeds resound,
A legacy of knowledge, forever unbound.
Their wisdom a beacon, in academia's night,
Guiding students toward intellectual light.
Their name a melody, sung by the wise,
In the hallowed halls, where intellect lies.
Though earthly confines may claim their remains,
Their spirit endures, in scholarly strains.
Legends not confined to earthly plains,
Their influence echoes in scholarly gains.
In every lesson, their legacy bright,
A torch in the darkness, igniting insight.
So let us honor these legends with grace,
In the pursuit of knowledge, they leave a trace.
For in their teachings, our minds take flight,
Empowered by their everlasting light.
I tune in to the channel coming forth & then
present what's coming through
A train of thoughts move like locomotives only
stopping for a few
From the ethers they descend like falling rain
precipitating flow from the sky
When they come all are drenched in declarations
bathing in the waters of divine
Surfing the annals of the mind can cause historical
waves to erect
Tsunamis destroy paradigms in a flash before
proceeding to redirect
By many it's seen as a disaster but viewed as a
blessing by a few
Sometimes we have to destroy to rebuild again &
make room for the new
Your ships may be docked for a spell but will sail
again when weather breaks
The will can be an unstoppable force to behold
moving like a train without its brakes
It's wet after clouds formed & quickly passed bringing
out the sun after the rain
Tears fell from the heavens to what's below washing
away the dirt & the pain
The eye in the sky sees all in one take illuminating
what's low from a higher place
Open channels flow with higher purpose seeking their
level & making waves in another space
House of commons, Quebec i think,? questions and
Odd answers; the air waxed thick..up to point..' debate
Was staged, till the veil of control, almost got frayed.'
Yet oppression was to carry this bout' the speaker flipped
And switched it out, on the un-reigned shouts, a little grim?Yet a smile indeed he wore, above the sober; gown of..
( Law?) The switch on beasts maybe is banned? Whithin
The border of that land.? If one is there it must belong to
Historys annals, and in real sad songs, owned by the folk
And not one man? An heirloom albeit not that grand.' I
For one observe such tricks, the denial of carrot
And the weilding of stick..Er i mean switch.!
Blessed are those
who love God, the
God of love and
mercy
Blessed are those
who follow one God,
who leads with
compassion showing
mercy
Cursed are those
who follow the Prince
of darkness, who fell
from Heaven dragged
down by the weight
Lesser Ego --
He who shows no Mercy
will be shown no Mercy
A Terrorist is the
Son of the Devil
a Harlot of Evil
All Lives Matter
Even the whores
of the press, the whores
of politics, and those
building mansions
profiting from war
let those who hear
with ears yet open
pause and listen to
the tender heart of
wisdom
while those darkened.
Shut off souls, will know
the Fires of Purification
So written
in the annals of
bloody history
Our love still etched in stone, a lasting mark,
In the tapestry of time, through light and dark.
Though years may pass, and seasons may roam,
In the heart of eternity, our love finds its home.
Like ancient carvings on a weathered wall,
In the annals of forever, our love does enthral.
Through life's journey, in the unknown zone,
Our love endures, still etched in stone.
In the echoes of laughter, in the silent night,
Our love's enduring flame, an eternal light.
Though the world may change, and we may roam,
In the book of the cosmos, our love's the cornerstone.
So let time march on, let rivers cease to flow,
Our love remains steadfast, a river's endless glow.
Through the ages, as the universe has grown,
Our love's legacy, forever etched in stone.
The computer era, indeed, has marred you and the pen,
A romantic feeling, when I think of you, fills my mind;
Will those Calligraphic times, the writers loved, come again?
Wherein, a feeling of hand-to-heart touch, the poets could find...!
Feathers in red, green, blue, black, white, brown, yellow, and maroon,
Or like the rainbow multicolored single quill well used;
Your existence before devising of pen was a boon,
In you was the enchantment of vivid bird species fused...!
A satisfying dip... lo, your magnetic-pulled words flow,
Like a fountain, forming floras and faunas of annals;
As you curve and wind like the music outgrows your tempo,
Words and thoughts fill, spill, and thrill like irrigation channels...!
You have turned a decorative piece owing timely change,
Your gifts, yet, to humanity have been beyond all range...!!!
That Salad Went Right Through Me
I've always wanted to write a poem called
“That Salad Went Right Through Me”.
And I would wager upon its best destiny:
To begin with, there is the Universal Theme--
For who has not gurgled around a conference table
at half past the last radish scrap?
Who, once stalled, has not
persistently punched the flusher
to muffle the borborygmus din?
But on a loftier note, I prefer
to think of my paean emblazoned
in the annals of first line indexes,
where, as one wanders lonely as a cloud
over dactyls and tropes,
“That salad went right through me”
trots right off the page
demanding a fervid flip to its leaf.
And future discourse plied at workshops,
and other such rarefied privies of poesy
might thusly include:
"Did you write a poem for the class today?"
Yes...“That Salad Went Right Through Me”
"Well then, you should consider the cheesecake."
In the annals of Rome the least glorious
was an emperor named Honorius.
Though Rome's plight was alarming
he spent his time chicken farming,
a pursuit which made him notorious.
Hail to December! – a magical month, indeed,
like no other in the calendar,
When neighborhoods come alive with lights
and decorations to remember,
Reindeer on roofs with Rudolph in the lead,
Street corner Santas ring bells,
Folks bundle up tight and take in the sights.
Main street churches feature a nativity scene
with a manger and animals
to honor the Savior born on Christmas day
almost lost in the annals,
While local stores focus on raking in the green
Carolers, becoming a thing of the past,
Singing “The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.”
Written December 1, 2022
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