Best Afforded Poems
Silent, she slips from her stronghold’s security,
safely tucked high on the cliff in her nest.
Cautious, she stays in the shadows afforded her,
sorrowful, hesitant, missing the rest.
Her parents and siblings had sought out the sunshine,
flying the open air, learning their craft.
Soaring and diving, they basked in the currents;
she, feeling poorly, by chance, had stayed back.
Sounds like a cannon had rung out above her;
shrieking and screaming, she watched the first fall.
Caught in the open with no chance for cover,
savagely, swiftly, death came for them all.
Hugging the hillside, she used the thick foliage,
bobbing and weaving, avoiding the limbs,
calling on instincts she knew not inside her,
fine-tuned adjustments through flexes and trims.
Cover was ending; the ocean awaited her.
Her heart was racing, her mind strangely clear.
Mother had taught her to seek out the currents;
a warm water pocket meant updrafts were near.
Tucking, she dove as she flew in the open,
a bullet herself, towards shiny blue glass.
Braking so subtly, just at the last moment,
she shot across wave tops, dizzily fast.
There! A small change in the water beneath her.
Pulling up hard, she flapped skyward and soared.
Where she was headed lay unknown before her,
on past the sunset to some distant shore.
Now I lay me down to sleep
In my home that's really sweet
Had three large meals and a snack
There wasn't a hint of any lack
Comfortable shoes and clothes that fit
My heart's desires my money can get
Friends and family know my name
So many opportunities it's just insane
Doctors and dentists, heat and air
A hope and a future.. No despair
Little chance I'll die before I wake
But if I do, my soul God will take.
But the homeless orphan goes to sleep
His unbathed body on a filthy street
Sold himself today to get a meal
From a slimy stranger with a dollar bill
No life, no skills, no future, no hope
No family, no friends, no heat, no coat
No shelter, no job, no doctor, no care
No money, no support, no help anywhere
Despair and neglect, a fight to survive
A shell of a child more dead than alive
And if this orphan dies before he wakes
Will he know my God his soul to take?
~Lyric Man
Note: Just returned from two weeks in Africa. I’ve seen the most amazing and the most tragic sights. This poem/prayer is a contrast of a typical western lifestyle to that of a fatherless orphan.
PS-I’ve basically been without internet for the past two weeks and have missed reading your poetic works. May you and I never take take for granted all the blessings that we have been afforded!
I could not refrain from asking what it was that made her sigh
When each picture that she started she took down. I wondered why.
The young lady was forthcoming; said her thoughts were fresh and bright
Every time she started painting nothing seemed to turn out right.
Then she glanced at my own painting and declared that it was great
She remarked I found it easy to imagine and create.
Well, I smiled and softly told her that it was my special brush
That afforded all the wonders; careful handling with no rush.
So I told her she could use it, to be gentle for a start
Till they reached synchronization so that both could play their part.
What about the other brushes? Do not fret or give a hoot
Mine will be the instigator, all the rest will follow suit!
I went off to have a breather while she went to work anew
Gave her time to get on with it then returned exact on cue.
I could see her face was radiant and her work intense yet cool
She expressed appreciation at my most fantastic tool.
I will let you on a secret; I have played a hidden card
For my brush is only normal. You were trying just too hard!
You can paint, you have it in you. To your talent be not blind.
As you see there is no magic; it was only in the mind.
So good luck with your endeavours. Some advice, precise and brief
You can make the perfect painting; all you need is self belief.
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Note: This poem was written to pass on a message to all those who
suffer from low esteem. Self-belief is the way forward.
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Author: Paul Callus
Contest (Favourite Poem...) sponsored by Carol Eastman
Placed: 1st
Love our enemies as ourselves
Let he who is without sin throw the first stone
Turn the other cheek
He who does wrong to the least of us
Does wrong to me
Crucified c. 33
With malice toward none and charity toward all
If slavery is not wrong, then nothing is wrong
Let us listen to our better angels
Shot—killed 1865
Heaven welcomes the decent of all faiths
God does not favor man above woman
All should be afforded the opportunity and
Means to rise above their caste
Shot—killed 1947
One should not be judged by the color of their
Skin, but by the content of their character
Only the power of love can conquer hate
I may not get there with you, but I have
Been to the mountain, I have seen
the promised land
Shot—killed 1968
Written 5/30/22
Things We Think
He said, “Every man is busy earning money.”
She said, “Is there anything more important than love?”
He said, “Is there anything more important than sex?”
She said, “I think we all just fear death.”
He said, “It’s like the Cats in the Cradle we just need more time.”
She said, “I think we really need more space.”
He moved out to a place with more space.
She soon did not have enough money.
She had to leave behind the house and love.
Once they vowed nothing would do them part not even death.
She never learned the aborted child’s sex.
Biologically he still had more time.
He was ambitious, indoctrinated into the ascent of money.
She worked her fingers to the bone, until her death.
He afforded local expensive sex.
She began to view local nature as expansive space.
He did not connect space and time.
She knew what connected it all was love.
In time he found a new love.
In love, she found time.
He equated good passion with good sex.
She found the emerald walls of nature the best space.
He loved the crisp or dirty, rumpled, green of money.
Homeless— she was reprimanded in the rain “You’ll catch your death!”
it's been said,
The root of all evil is money.
Money can’t buy you love.
Nothing is certain but taxes and death.
I don’t know the question, but the answer is sex.
I need my space.
All we have is time.
I’ve learned to give love and learned that is love.
I’ve learned one’s time is worth more than one’s money.
I’ve learned a small space in nature explains all infinite space.
I’ve learned that gender should not be judged by one’s sex.
I’ve learned that empathy slows time.
I’ve learned from the leaves of grass there is no death.
He is more than his money and she is more than her sex.
In death we find love.
In space there exists time.
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
Even my mother once described me as being a plain Jane.
Not even afforded the indignity of being treated with disdain.
Invisible, that's what I am among my peers.
No one to share my hopes, my dream, or even my fears.
I Gave up long ago it seems, of trying to be known.
Invisible on the stage of life, forever all alone.
Some believe it would be magical being invisible to all.
Fair well I know the truth, even my tears have ceased to fall.
Times past I tried to appear, let people know I'm there.
Tried time and time again, but none would ever care.
I stand on the edge of the world, a spectator to it all.
Just longing to be seen, someone please! my name to call.
I lie here on my bed, in the sanctuary of my room.
Realising I never see the light, just gazing through the gloom.
I stand and stare into the mirror, now there's nothing I can see.
The realisation hits me hard. Now I'm invisible to me.
l am reminded me on a Girl I knew at school. I imagine what she would have gone through being invisible to her peers.
We were born as one of eight,
As always said last in first out,
Some of us unfortunately late,
To be found out what this is all about.
Through as seed to eyes wide,
Reflections of our guardians past,
Our lifes path determined for the ride,
On us as punishment did last.
Running to each for rescue,
Our thoughts, minds a damage,
Not realising all affected as we grew,
By ignorance and uncontrolled rage.
Given a mind of neediness and not real thought,
A reality of life for the rest,
Real knowledge and understanding never sort,
A fight to achieve and make the best.
Of what was afforded to our untrained mind-sets,
Surviving the stages of life,
Who was to know who above placed bets,
A guardian dies and relieves a little strife.
Some leave as falsely grown,
The rest left behind to continue,
To continue in chosen paths without proper seeds sown,
A new step in our life, pain to persue.
A little relief of a place,
Bodies growing but minds stunted,
To a new home we move but same pace,
By continued hurt, pain forever blunted.
Behind closed doors but some unheeded,
Our own flesh grabbed at by a new,
The cries of our little bodies that needed,
Evil persons not of the same blood we knew.
Why was this to be our serve?
Please be taken away,
What did we do to deserve,
As children to avoid more dismay.
The end eventually given,
Finally a space to heal,
By powers unknown for continued living,
A built outer protection sheath for real.
Our own flesh birth we give,
As supposed to be,
To learn from our past and live,
We did not know true glee.
But for us and them we will try our best,
Of ours and heir’s share our pains,
To remain and love as true for the rest,
As in the past hurt always rains.
But to know and learn how,
One day all will know, what,
Life is supposed to be now,
Transpired and by who caused this rot.
Life will continue I know, without shame,
As we all are not the same.
08/28/2016
Oh, My Dear Walter, how your words have slayed
Humbled me, broken me, molded, remade
To taste of your world, see above or below it
Wit of a wordsmith, wry pith of a poet
To so construe love without using the phrase
Scrawl the sinew of war, yet delight in the days
To yawp of the grass - journeywork of the stars
Help heal a nation, attend to its scars
Find grace among horrors, sift beauty from death
The soul-pull of tides - briny kiss of their breath
To habit us all ... to the dazzle of light
Celebrate ourselves, bequeath us the night
Ask recurring questions of romance and life
Of presidents, boot soles, and moldering strife
Demons and mockingbirds, Paumanok's dunes
The pale, horrid witness of unstinted moons
'Twas sad-blown, a bugle, convulsed, was a drum
Yet exquisite, the dirge for a soldier and son
The sorrow of clouds in a ravening sky
The weep of a child should the Pleiades die
Knit airy-fresh words, with uncommon phrases
Draw Apollo and Neptune in all of their phases
Be there adoration as hapless as mine
Yet no soul more ardently leveled, supine
No writer has reached deeper into my heart
Idioms and phrases ... such allurement, impart
Ah, yes, what I'd give to have just one chat
With the rare human being who afforded all that
And maybe I'm biased, if perhaps to a fault
But the name of MY Captain, O Captain ...
Is WALT.
A lot of people take freedom, liberty, and even sleep for granted. They don't understand what it takes for them to be afforded those priveledges. They don't know how it feels to be on edge about everything that you hear. They don't know how it feels to be afraid to sleep. The don't know about the thunderous boom sound that makes your heart beat as fast as it can that becomes as normal as a telephone ring. You never know when or where the next boom will be, but you stay on edge hoping that it doesn't come in your direction. You lose sleep worrying about yourself, your friends, if you will ever see your children, if you will ever enjoy the place you call home, if you will go home as normal as you were when you left. Sometimes you find yourself alone with your thoughts and you just think about all the what ifs and find yourself filled with regret. There will be people giving advice, but they will never truly understand what you are going through. I guess we all find our way back to sanity eventually. We just have to learn how to make the crazy things normal. This is the path that we chose. These are the choices we made. We chose to support the country, no matter how big, or how small the role is that we have here. This is what separates us from everyone else. This is the life of a deployed soldier.
BLING IS THE THING!
A gold looking briefcase that glitters
And glows,
A shimmery sequin diary that likes to
Know that it shows,
Crayons of every, and any colour that
one may desire,
Small yet things that indicate that of life
I will never tire!
Adult colouring books and cartoons that
I sketch,
Continually inspire and evolve and
Fantasies fetch.
Bright coloured cushions that contrast
Yet match,
I am now in a world of daydreams,
My very own safety valve patch!
Fond memories, imagination, wishes and
Illusion,
This is the only way of keeping away
Lingering delusion,
African ornaments and trinkets I collect,
And a big bright blue evil eye to protect,
Myself and my family from evil or envy
Even a stuffed monkey wearing the colours
Of the rainbow carelessly hangs on my mothers
Coat rack, she gave it to me, it reminds
Me of her as tears roll down my face,
For this is my sanctuary, my own poetry space!
This is where I find my inspiration,
As fond memories I recall with vivid imagination!
This life may only be afforded to some
They are the ones that collect every bit of life,
Every crumb,
This is the glitz
Of life which brings out the blitz
And bling, which may sound to some, absurd,
To live life in such a colourful, imaginative world,
Almost like Peter Pan or Alice in wonderland,
These people have retained a lot of the heart
Of the child in them – My husband loves me even
More for this,
As he enters my poetry space I give him a big
Hug and kiss.
I believe what I do and how I do it, has de stressed,
My body, mind and soul,
Making sure I take in my stride stressed times, when
They call, and that threaten to take their toll!
~~~~Flower for Heidi~~~~
Is it the lasting touch or the telephone,
one's loved so much when feet find home.
Sentimental for the days recorded duly, yet hope withstands,
gentle flowers afforded beauty by Heidi Sands. ~Heidi's hands~
The tide worn and barnacled pylons
holding up the wharf wobble
on a sea swell like loose teeth.
Most of the decking planks
are missing. Those that remain
span joists with bones
of rotted wood fastened down
with rust. A chain wire fence
bars public access
and a large red sign
screams a message of danger.
I find myself looking through
the wire, asking who else
would stop by and perceive
a strange beauty here,
that in the wreck
of this derelict wharf,
something immutable
has found a home in the rot.
Its history
is not mine nor does it
conspire with a notion
to snare me with a kind
of enticing nostalgia.
What is here is more like
time chewed pick up sticks
stuck in mud.
And yet I don't know why
I am moved so, standing here
with all the reverence afforded
a relic of something almost holy,
why my pen should waste time
chasing such an elusive presence
around a page.
Perhaps what is here
is an essence of what my mind
cannot grasp, that other,
a mystery imprinted on a finite world,
a longed for sign of hope
in a language known only
to the soul - or is it simply
something more mundane,
slowly loosening the pylons
holding up my brain.
Facing a street kid pleading for bread, I was gripped with mixed feelings, especially that I had in my possession purchased goods for our orphanage from a grocery with this label: “the good life you can afford.” Oh, the social worker in me could not escape being confronted with this question: “Why does a child have to beg for a basic necessity... when it can be afforded?” By God’s grace, I have settled myself with the answer while fulfilling my commitment.
emotions clashing
grieved midst reality angst~~~
still love* and care reign
* 1John 3:17 But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?
April 17, 2021
2nd place, "Moments Of Reflections - Haibun" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury; judged on 5/11/2021.
The internet is seething with hatred today, sadly ...
Say what you wish to say, do what you wish to do, make the path you wish to make - THAT is what has been afforded each of us in this wonderful country, and I will stand up for your right to do so, whether I agree with you or NOT, (as I would expect the same consideration in return) ...
BUT ... if you use HATEFUL means to say or do or make the path you wish to make, I for one, will no longer be listening, nor will I stand up for those rights, because as soon as hatred is part of the equation, ALL of the integrity and substance and strength is gone from your argument ...
If it can't be said without hatred or harmful intent, then it should not be said at ALL. The only things worth listening to are those things said with intelligence and consideration and purpose, but there is NO substance or integrity with animosity, and hatred's ONLY purpose is to feed itself and cause harm ...
Take the low road and you'll get stuck in the mud of ignorance and confusion, take the high road and people will LISTEN.