Hate me slate me or berate me
call me names it's all the same I don't care
to my mind it's no more than
hogwash simply put just hot air
the proclivities of others
I don't judge
and their predilections
I won't begrudge
I live and let live
as I too do have mine
but tresspass on my territory
there's where I draw the line
tho' non-violent
step on my toes
and believe you will receive
a black eye or bloody nose
The universe grows with such momentum,
galaxies go where the big bang sent 'em -
expanding forever.
Bully for the universe,
but I feel I'm going in reverse,
fearing something worse
with no hope whatsoever.
I feel I'm not growing, but shrinking,
and I feel that I must be sinking,
see?
Galaxy-size problems loom,
and I can feel impending doom.
Will gravity one day consume
me?
Universal expansion, I don't begrudge,
yet, I myself cannot budge,
and as I give up all resistance,
Newton's force has me thrashed,
one by one my hopes are dashed,
and I am slowly, surely smashed
into one point of non-existence.
The rumbling, crashing, riotous falls
were like instruments intent on
singing out their percussion.
Each watery movement came in
orchestrated rhythm, appearing as
the master of the scene
yet arriving on unheard cue.
The wild and noisy disorder of the
magnificent Niagara Falls were an
ever-changing mosaic of color
that could tumble from a
box of pastels.
In the sunlight they were soft,
no matter how bright the light became,
and always just as pleasing as the
gelato that sat in our waffle cones.
We dashed for cover as the sky
turned like a woolen gray shawl
upon the rolling hills behind us.
Colors arced into a bold sky,
stretching as open hands reaching
for the sun-kissed rain.
The colors were that bit more beautiful,
like God had polished the world afresh.
And how could we begrudge
those blessed drops?
For with them came
the rainbow, the greenery,
the cheery flowers, renewed vigor and
every other slice of life we so enjoy.
"Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night…"
Archaic spelling set aside,
And not intending to be snide,
But really, Mr. Blake, I take exception.
While a tiger's luminosity
May pique your curiosity,
What the beastie's wattage is, you've no conception.
But who am I to judge you?
And so I'll not begrudge you
This "poesy" that was your lifelong passion.
But could it be that you were smokin'
A little "weed" the night you spoke in
That weird and kinda highfalutin' fashion?
Oh, we'll debate it, if you want to,
But it will come back to haunt you,
And the tiger, in the end, will defeat ya.
'cause metaphysical or not,
If a tiger's light is hot,
That's a sign he's getting ready, pal,
To eat ya!
O teacher, noble and kind,
You're more than a model, you're a guide.
You're not just a teacher of facts,
But one who nurtures, as life's tracks.
Though you teach them all the truth,
It's life's lesson, that you uncouth.
With kindness and love, you instil,
The wisdom of life, to fulfil.
You treat them not as mere students,
But as children, your love is dense.
You don't begrudge their future sight,
But hope they rise, to great heights.
You're a teacher true, of noble mind,
Who knows that your reward is kind.
I have always been stubborn, cliff walls rising against the world
I don’t budge.
Your river carves through me slowly but steadily
I used to begrudge you your freedom
Now I envy you.
I wish you could take me with you
I watch time and you pass
We’re wasting time.
I know now that I love you
Your arms rope me into your wild dance
I love it.
I think you swept me away with your current
I didn’t realize how wide the gorge was
You carved me away.
Don’t leave me now or I will have nothing left
Goodbye our dear friend.
We hate to see you leave.
We know where you’re going,
and that you’ll be relieved.
You’ll experience no more grief,
no more pain, and suffering.
But will be bathed in perfect love, joy and serenity.
Friends and family of days
Gone by, will be there to greet you.
I can see your smile, and feel your bliss as
You gaze upon our good Shephard’s face.
He’ll welcome you home and usher you in.
Your eternity has started.
I don’t begrudge you going, dear, dear friend.
I applaud you.
But I will miss your presence
In my life greatly.
Till I’m called back home, and
See you again
Goodbye
Always, a change of plans
Interrupts my tranquil course –
Set forth by circumstances
It appears, for the worse.
I resent it, I begrudge –
It chips away at my mind –
Finally, I'm forced to oblige
And surrender my time
But once by hushed words –
I learned of a blessing:
What seemed a dreadful recourse
Placed me in a better setting.
That's why when the Thief flees
You shouldn't be too upset
For the Divine may be
Watching out for your interest.
An abundance of mimicked truth yet oozing falsehood
Leaving a dubious ironic emotional attitude
Simulating a true person’s being hypocritical
Showed as a soul-less insanely monstrous criminal
Recognizing ambiguity painted in your unique brilliant colors
No matter how you curve it, your words still weigh like anchors
Cunning are your sneaky attempts at a vagueness
The are of your game is far from being stated as genius
The illusion of your meaning is not being judged
It’s the meaning of that illusion I won’t begrudge
Twisting your morbid stories into enigmatic fables
Trying to paint yourself as the innocent of all angels
Conforming naive minds into perceiving what isn’t right
Leaving one to believe it’s themself that they fight
Perplexed a complex thought allowing deceit
Fueling the tellers ever hunger of feeding their conceit
Yet I do not pass judgement, you bring about that result
The perceived illusion you brought it’s your fault
Allowing the multi talent of twisting words to your end
The vagueness in saying a lot by saying nothing, letting no one in
A hug they call it, a sweet embrace,
I see naught much more than casual waste.
Hear this: When two wrap arms those two touch hearts. Loves
Warmth is shared! A tethered hearth! Droves
Of waterfall on rock below, loaded
Avalanches of melting snow!
And yet more: a tickled itch, a rope wrapped gift…
I loath and pray those numb hearts feel,
Further that they know to sift
As though what they’ve shared is as real as real.
I would begrudge for what I’ve seen,
but they don’t know what they’re holding
Is worth much more than just a hug.
While walking toward the bus stop today
A whirlwind tried to whisk me away
Where it would take me, it did not say
But I refused to budge
And then among the dust and debris
A willowy voice whispered to me
Why be afraid when you can be free?
Yet onward I did trudge
How can I be free when I am afraid
When safe and sure is where I’ve always stayed
When my heart is willing but my feet can’t be swayed
The brave ones I begrudge
Though I’d rather ride the wind than the bus
I can’t simply hop on a random gust
But a breath of smog or a breath of dust
Is an easy choice to judge
Give me a ticket to board the west wind
And I’ll ride it forever wherever it’s destined
So say your farewells, wish me the best and
I’ll just need a little nudge.
God knows I did wrong, but I tried to change.
But all I begrudge is to maintain my brazenness.
It will never satisfy me until I endure my life range.
My beloved, forgive me or release my madness.
I once walked right into a storm in my spine.
plastic raincoat in hand, heart on shoe top.
Above rain-firing clouds, war clouds sunk supine.
No languor or exhaustion, only a feast non-stop.
Smacking into the horizon that defies stone.
Recanted, now wearing a torn shirt full of falls
I'm on the road, pen in hand, set to do war alone.
Find a wind-sheltered beggar near torn walls.
I suppose cruel people are just hopeless.
Do you blame your life on your diaper?
When music comes on, my face is yolkless.
Is it worth it to wish for things to go hyper?
I am now able to travel across the world.
I'll cycle and listen to lead music this year.
I must admit to being one proud furled.
"Don't worry, be happy" is for me, dear.
Written: January 11, 2023
Hit List 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
On days clouds mask transparency,
when sprinkles/gales quell meadow’s song,
before Spring’s green, post Autumn’s fall
of colored leaves (that flirt with tones of Prelude’s whites),
I wait for you (and doing so) find new delights!
On days what’s right (what’s left’s not clear),
discordance jars the inner ear,
I trust the harmony for all
that God provides, the love we share (makes right what’s wrong),
I wait for you (why hamstring with inerrancy?)
I wait for you, trust you’ll be near when time is right,
for die is cast, an inner compass guides our flight.
We both support what we need be
to bloom the ways God’s plans mature
in gifts we’re dealt our day of birth.
I wait for you though seasons pass, poles flip on earth
(in one day’s time), the oceans freeze (one last, “Bonjour!”),
the sun’s end fades to more maybe.
I won’t begrudge its fleeting glow!
Look for lips poised with love’s, “Hello!”
Long Tooth
November 6th in 2022
The Marketplace of Thought!
Don’t I love who I’m open to - would share soul with (somehow in words -
in poetry, revealing me)? Must I place worth on goods ‘vain’ hawk
to earn a look? Let self-regard be life’s canard! God Loves such cheer?
May I find wealth in other’s health (I pray), by Grace of God’s intent,
not courted rhymes that plague our times, end freedom found in ‘Will of God’
(that lights all life)! Oh, bless the ways God’s muse serves days! Count that enough!
My labor’s mark you think a lark (not worth fool’s ink or up to snuff)?
What you begrudge, I would not judge. I serve my truth! Is it so odd
that’s what I’d share? Your truth is yours if it’s just Coors (in lieu of rent)!
But rent’s still due (my point of view!) I’m happy though to share a beer,
not make you wrong (to me, love’s song!) reciprocate without a squawk.
Life shared’s a chance to change the past, hoist sail up mast, view world like birds!
Long Tooth
October 14th in 2022
Poet's Notes:
Another poem with distant rhyme and note too that each line has an internal rhyme as well! What fun!
By labeling as dog or swine,
I thus usurp decrees divine.
By casting pearls, I abdicate
A chance to share that God is great.
The flavor of the pulp was moot
In Mrs. Doubtfire’s drive-by fruit.
The gospel is a precious thing,
Not deadly stones launched with a sling.
When my salvation’s cause to gloat,
The chance I see my beam’s remote.
For ere God got a hold of me,
I fear I was far worse than thee.
So I will pick my words with care,
And come along beside you there.
I’ll not begrudge your heart’s incline,
Nor hurl my pearl, nor think you swine,
And then perhaps we’ll both agree:
Our Judge alone can set us free.
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Today's sermon was on Matthew 7:1-6, of all things :-)
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