Best Academician Poems
“Daddy, will you pray with me?” I asked him.
He sat on my bed, took hold of my hand
and prayed for me.
My pastor father....
his words rising like incense
up to the throne of grace.
I heard him plead for healing
on my behalf
and then for himself
for divine strength to carry
all of the burdens that he had.
In those sacred moments,
I could hardly breathe
as I squeezed his work worn hands…
When he whispered, “Amen”,
he brought my hand to his lips
and kissed it.
I almost cried
because I realize
that Daddy is getting old
and I cannot bear the thought
Oh, how it tugs at my heart...
the thought of losing him
“I worry about you,” he said
“You’re my only daughter!”
and after our goodnights
I’m here pouring my heart out tonight
trying to get past the lump in my throat
Because I know...
I know...
these times are precious
God chose to be known as Father
Abba….Daddy
I never had a problem
understanding the love of God
because of that term…FATHER
My earthly father
is everything a daughter could want and more
The first man I ever loved
He is honest and hardworking….
He exemplified the meaning of sacrifice
as for years he cared for my mother
wheelchair bound
unable to care for her most basic needs
due to MS
He'd feed, change, and care for her
Serving the church devotedly
Giving all he has…..
An academician...
who sometimes would pay from his pocket
when a student had no money for books
A man who would stop
to give a ride to anyone on the street
A man whose office
and home
Were always open for the weary
A man who stood for truth....
“though the heavens fall”
My father…..
My hero….
The representative
Of my heavenly FATHER!
“How deep the Father’s love for us
How vast beyond all measure.”
Father God!
Abba…Father!
My Daddy, Johnny!
Matthew 7: 9 – 11 9 “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
Submitted On January, 4, 2015
Contest: Tell Me About Your Daddy
Sonsor: Judy Konos
Twenty years in the past we looked
Twenty years in the past is today
Creaking and cracking unending for all
Masochist Regimes competing
He reigned with dark goggles twenty years past
The masses blocked off from the rays of governance
Through macabre masses reeled in military style
In penury all dwelled
In beards he stepped out to mock the saints
The people still floating and lost in their hope
Premeditated masochist’s democratic plan unleashed
In limbo all lay
We saw our very own Mandela
Escape from militarization wrongly imagined
Tyrannical imposition of corruption beheld
In shock, appreciation came
The academician turned politician should save
Conflicting confusing actions in relative short time
Corruption runs free wheel, while the master is away
In hopelessness all surrender
Good luck met overwhelming goodwill
A joke willed by the people to truly lead
The goggles have become transparent twenty years after
In idiocy all get joggled
We sat together in the campus hole in the wall pub
You - the greatest academician of all time
Me – shy and silent with a thousand questions for you trapped in my brain
Now, older and with my conversational skills more honed
I would ask you:
How was your day?
How is your drink?
How is that new car working out for you?
Then, I would move on to my Vanity Fair interview:
Who is your favorite hero?
What word do you overuse?
What is your most treasured possession?
I would also throw in some questions of utmost importance:
Hey, what do you think of this crazy world we live in?
What do you think of Vonnegut’s theory of why we are even on this planet?
And finally, I would ask you:
If our friendship were ever to end one day suddenly, would there be at least one chance for redemption?
“The more you know, the more you know you don't know.”
Said quote attributed to Aristotle,
stands the test of time,
and not only did out last
many another aphorism,
but most any learned person,
would agree proverb cast
greater relevancy today,
whereby bajillion minutiae doth blast
and bombard relentlessly tenured
academician, or lay person till aghast
now (i.e. the 21st
century in general), with fast
and furious incessant information explosion,
more so than 384–322 BC,
yet his nestled (chocolated),
pronounced, revered, vast
paradigm touted as ever last
ting influence still
vibrant approximately hast
encompassed two and
a half millenniums past.
Hash tagged the
"Father of Western Philosophy" -
imagine us slew
of avid admirers
lurching back and forth
(in conjunction with the
pitched cadenced lilt of Plato),
say...by a playa in Kalamazoo
Michigan feted for, he warrants a kazoo
blown, who embraced forward doo
wop thinking spanned a gamut,
where more'n few
adherents or immediate disciplines
refining (and redefining),
which amassed breathless
comprehension aligned hitherto
an expanse of disparate subjects
sewn (no needling,
asper this feeble pun)
to constitute an interrelated web,
whereat convenience allotted
quasi distinct abstract queue
(preceding his sue bare rue
legacy) consigned his
innate person to integrate
(by syllogisms he drew)
correcting antiquated inaccuracies,
and aligned a groovy,
wheel lee, and well tread
modernist twist (and shout),
sans permeating Air Supply
Bestie Boys, Beatlemania,
Cold Play ying
musically noteworthy, loo
pea pod casts, and even spurring
Upon reflecting with misty eyes
childhood days of yore
the mantle of anticipatory
excitement mantle I wore
upon advent of December
twenty fifth not quite threescore
years ago knew nothing
about being dirt poor
yours truly doggedly felt sense
of belonging among k9 korp
versus moody blues hangdog
look resembling Eeyore.
Now fast forward envisioning
gray bewhiskered scraggly
muttering old Unitarian
that would be yours truly courtesy
hyperbole as would be obvious
upon quick visual scan,
who dabbles writing
at least one poem within
twenty four hour
time frame i.e. quotidian
basis, eh not
so much an outdoorsman
these days and definitely not,
nor ever trumpeted
taps as militiaman
within the ranks of Kublai Khan
emperor of China, and
grandson of Genghis Khan
I remain holed up within
one bedroom apartment
unit b44 as iceman,
no, not by choice,
but series of unfortunate events
primarily faulty heater
at the mercy of fate,
a mere dice toss gameplan
always associated as separate
among establishmentarian
forever dreamily fancying
married to countrywoman,
combination platter academician.
Lo and behold days
mein kampf slipped and slid away
leaving faded memories
precious young lad oft times
felt alienated (think) castaway
yet simultaneously unable to flyaway
loosing self from mother's apron strings,
while slipping grip signals foray
into abyss conjured courtesy
thru information superhighway.
Reflection upon tempus fugit
incredulous kick **** lightspeed
precocious age sentimental reverie storybook
happy go lucky idyllic past indeed,
then bound by ignorance,
hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.
WE CAN’T BE COMPLACENT WITH CODVID-19
We are fighting an unseen enemy
It is real not rare- this coronavirus
At this time of COVID-19 pandemic being our enemy
Don’t be complacent Mr. Clean
You may have lived all your life being clean
Be you a laborer, officer, medical practitioner or an academician
Coronavirus is no respecter of personality, celebrity or position
Have you taken notice of this?
Bath twice or thrice with ten tablets of soap and So Clean
Put on your underwear, boxer and dress up from head to toe
Mingle, commute and socialize all day
Then check your scrotum you’ll find a dusty mud-like dirt.
Have you bothered to ask yourself where it came from?
We’re all at risk
So keep observing the protocol for the stoppage of the spread
No matter who told you as long as they are endorsed by WHO.
Do them and be safe and save others
Stay safe, don’t be complacent
If you think you’re smart the virus you see not is more smatter
Stay safe, we can overcome only if you and I care
Sue S. Side Almost Won Out As The Tomb Poem...
(alternately titled: a page taken from the play
book of Little Miss Muffet.)
"Oh...My...Argh..." "Somebody...
Please...ease...help...me...ee"..., and
then dead silence, this comprises,
the sole thread bare strand
i.e. plaintive desperate plea – recorded
by emergency 911 agent Brand
N. Burg-Harris, a close family member
of the deceased, who
(said relation) hand
dully appeared aghast, shell shocked,
white as a ghost,
et cetera damned
near roundly dismissed,
but extraordinarily grand
lee escorted to safety,
as some VIP, who
under a "normal," regular,
and/or typical case, would be
gingerly brushed aside land
ding in the loony bin, what with his
babbling like a lunatic understand
ably very little attention paid,
but the sheer immensity,
sans horror surpassed any
concoction hatched, analogous
to grotesque japaned
artwork by necessity didst demand,
an extremely over
active imagination, thus
no "FAKE" spiderbiter words
exist to expand
to embellish, fabricate,
and/or surpass,
a terrifying, nightmarish,
and hideous circumstance
in summary visa a vis dis
covering Goliath manned
doubles (mandibles - jaws of steel),
wherein barenaked remnants
of Matthew Scott Harris protruded,
which humongous mouthparts
of gigantic sized
Tarantula pierced poison
into dangling, flickr
ring, and twitching
scant visible remains
of renowned Arachnologist, academician
passionate serious
die hard "Spider Man."