Best Assign Poems
O God of the universes of Creation as a whole
I raise my hands; and open my heart and soul.'
Prostrate I call upon your power, to bless my
Friends in these long dark hours' these days
Long abhorred stand now at their doors, I ask
You gird their spirits with strength; enlighten their
Minds that they drive hence' each evil time that
They may face, pray turn them into typhoons
That will remove each trace; those of fear, of doubt
and all false pride, beside them; I ask your power
Resides, of your angel throng assign to them
More than they ever need, these women and men.'
Andrea Deitrich Michael Tor Heidi sands Connie
Marcum Wong Judy Ball Bill Baker Robert Ligouri
Joseph May Harry Horseman Brother Jacob
Sally Eslinger Sara Kendrick Sam Kaufman Joe
Dimino Len Gasun Pangiota Romios James
Marshall Goff Billy the Kidster Vince Suzdail
Jnr Kim Rodriuges Beta Augustin Rob Carmac
Robert Lindley Brandy Nichole Laura Leiser
And last, but not least B J Legros Kelly '
Much Love to all.'
May they each put to flight any 5000 that come
Up against them in any honourable venture they
Embark upon, be that written spoken or intimated
May you be with them each one dear Lord in Jesus
Name with the Holy Spirit as witness.'
The moon shimmied up her pole in the sky
Winking at me with her crescent eye
The stars danced in time to a silent tune
As the season ended that started in June
O, one long last look at summer's constellations
Before they surrender to Fall's deportations
And the heavens assign them to regions distant
As brisk winds whisk them away in an instant
September 22, 2020
Completely Your Choice (#15) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
How does one measure love in scope or scale?
For if such ledger ever was designed
Then logic would over the heart prevail.
So in this way must love be ever blind.
If love be love it cannot count the cost
Or repossess what it in ransom pays.
Expecting such is love already lost
When worth decides whether or not it stays.
But if I must assign it some amount
Let time together be the cost we share
And by that measure, as for love's account,
Let us not leave a coin of it to spare.
I'll precious count each moment yet in store.
My love, I offer all to you and more.
8.17.18
*** COME POETRY ***
Belle Poetry! Be kind!
I am already exhausted
From long passed hours
Taking dictation from you — I am
But human and sometimes fragile,
While you often come divine.
Sister Poetry! Even as I listen
To music by composer Andre Rieu, to help
Waltz words across these pages,
I plead with you, seeking
To grip, grasp, hunt, hold, seize, and
Assign apt words to their deft places…
Be kind! Impart the sequence of syllables
Clearly to my tired mind, so they will
Play well in their penned flow,
To turn Poetry’s wish to written wine —
Felt imagery; being true in wisdom;
Creative in expression; vibrant.
With a similar kind of invitation,
Ravel takes us away in imaginings, while
Traveling the rise in his Bolero,
Captive to the mounting repetition —
Music to motion. Expression to power.
Inspirations…A ready harvest in the heart.
Desiring Poetry, send here your printed score
To sound out as easily as does a pluck of
A violin’s string to begin a concerto;
Or humming a hymn may bring peace to a room.
Speak on in dreams! My pen awaits,
Listening even when near a nod to needed sleep.
Eager Poetry, life’s “Alleluia”
First coarses through you
In the displays of wonder; in all the consequences
Of emphatic things done; and of your intuited
Knowing in progress and process with the All
Collective unconscious — from clouds to clarity
As God with first thought made
The first word.
——Dedicated to the souls who hold the address of poetry within them, with all its bliss and pain, my sisters and brothers living in perception. ———-—————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 10/3/22
Thanks be to God
Put down your remote
pick up your pen
write me
Make me current
as I could only be written
in this very moment
(but make me timeless)
Assign words to
smells, sounds, tastes, sights
that only you sense
(but make me universal)
Recall every poet
(but be yourself)
Recollect every writing rule
(so you will know when and how to break them)
Make me enigmatic enough
that I can’t be comprehended on the first pass
(but intriguing enough to want seconds)
Season me with swagger
to inspire the timid
Saturate me with hope
to comfort the downhearted
Imbue me with faith
to inspire the seeking
Permeate me with love
to bless the lonely
Don't sweat it if others do it better than you
(they don't know your heart)
Put down your laptop
your briefcase
your phone
pick up your pen
and write me
(I am your story)
‘Hey stomach,’ says anus,
‘Would you cut the crap.’
“It’s not me,’ stomach says;
‘I won’t take the wrap.
It’s what they’re eating,
So blame teeth and mouth.
I’m innocent,’ says stomach,
‘For that filth down south.’
Brain has a good laugh
At organ expenses,
By prodding infighting
Over false offenses.
‘Are you kidding me,
You two dumb kidneys.
Always a teamed pair
For a fight that’s not fair!’
Roared livid liver
Who was hardly pleased,
That they blamed him
For the smelly feces.
‘Oh stop it now, liver
Just sit there and filter.
We said no such thing;
Don’t get out of kilter.’
‘Tee-he-he,’ laughs brain.
My plan’s working well,
To keep each organ
At odds over a smell,
That they have no power
To change or repair,
And since they can’t think
They’ll stay unaware.’
Hands and mouth kept
Eating junk by the hour.
Having been brainwashed,
They blindly devour.
Long ago brain trained eyes
To focus on the news,
Now it was time for all
Parts, to pay ‘their’ dues.
Bones pipe up, and say,
‘Something doesn’t feel right,
Hey muscles loosen up;
Why do you squeeze so tight?’
Muscles answer and say,
‘Colon and intestines
Are the guilty squeezers,
Causing congestion.
I’m just doing my part
At the request of the brain.’
‘But muscles,’ says bones,
‘It’s causing me pain.’
And after a while
Brain has all body parts,
At odds with themselves;
Over endless bad farts.
Organs, blood, and guts
Could not get along;
They once did their jobs
Keeping the body strong.
But brain has the answer,
‘Let’s vote on what to do.
Either I run the show,
Or you deal with bad poo!’
Yes, brain got them quibbling
And each held a grudge.
All based on false info
That made brain, ‘King Judge’.
So each part gave in
To that sneaky design,
And waited for orders
From brain to assign.
But brain was a liar
And steered organs wrong.
The body collapsed;
It didn’t take long.
Just like brain, most statesmen,
Fool us like we’re tarts.
Let’s not die for their lies,
But stay whole, not apart.
Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority. They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is". Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do. Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that. There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place. So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:
Open Letter to Thomas Jefferson
You sir, destination unknown, I dare
To address. A son of worthy causes
For land vast in majesty and vast as
Vast can be in matters of liberty;
With ideals so prim and suffused with
Philosophical forethought derived from
Your bumper harvest of keen knowledge from
Poetry to paleontology;
You the offspring of music and science,
Master of the whims of public forum,
Framer of destiny of the nation,
Bearer of the conscience of masses and
Winning hurdler of political kinks.
Now, the moldering public discourse is
Unbearable. One can no more cover
One’s nose. Nowhere is a silent shelter
From megaphone of ubiquitous din.
Where is a refuge? Simply, know not I.
I beseech you, sir, for learned counsel.
As thundering wildebeest migration
Clouds the slopes of national horizon:
Tulip of your acclaimed Law of Nature
Lies in the path of a roaring rampage.
I beg to ask, why uncanny tactile
Projections of your mind failed to measure
And forecast proneness to such afflictions.
Sir, you did not proscribe such maladies,
Or provide cautionary bells, at least.
Where have all the magistrates gone, I ask?
As I flip pages of your Summary View:
Prefaced by a motto of Cicero:
“It is the indispensable duty
Of supreme magistrate to consider
Himself as acting for community,
And obliged to support its dignity,
And assign to the people, with justice,
Their various rights, as he would remain
Faithful to the great trust reposed on him.”
Your pristine flora of the applied skills
In statesmanship and proper decorum
Is being supplanted by scurrilous
Scions of egocentric rhetoric.
Pails of justice are perceived as empty
By the parched sectors of land of plenty–
Await quenching rain of tenderness, but
Clouds of compassion remain unseeded.
Please forgive the outburst of my verses.
To rein my pen is to muzzle my soul.
On weekends I work as a guard, protecting swimmers at a pool,
and sometimes I have to be hard, when someone starts acting the fool.
Sometimes my action seems cruel, by anyone crossing the line,
but I am in charge of a rule that the council gave me to assign.
There has been feuding and fighting. Swearing and cursing I’ve heard.
I’ve broken up kissing and biting, and other things that are absurd.
Now I notice some people disturbed, by an incident sure to attract,
and because now this has occurred, the need is for me to re-act.
I saw the attraction so clearly, and this was a terrible crime
that needed me to act sincerely, and I certainly will this time.
A woman is holding her baby, while topless creating interest!
There is no doubt or a maybe; the babe is attached to one breast.
I said to her “Out of the pool! You can’t go doing that here.
We all must abide by the rule, and this one is perfectly clear.”
I think for a minute she thought, I’d committed a sexist attack,
so she replied “I’ll take you to court, and make sure that you get the sack.”
Then she asked, “Who was offended, by me with my breast hanging out?”
That’s when I stood up and defended, for what this orders about,
I said to her “Topless is fine, and that you had broken no rule,
but your baby stepped over the line. No food is allowed in the pool!”
My Bros.' & Sister's the [Book] tell us that we are made in the image of God, made
in the likeness of him. So why is the World suffering much to much idiosyncricie's whe-
ther you're fat or slim ? Do you know!! Do Ya!!... long and many year's ago, Noah
is assign an important task, that being! to build a ship (the Ark) for the purpose that
(GOD) seen the supplication of his creation. He is sadden that sin enter into evil thought's
of mankind, and the collaboration of their choices brings no satisfaction to the reasonable
reason for Noah being choosen to finished the Ark {no satisfaction}.... My guess is
that Noah prayer's was like, "Show Me the Way Home", Lord, thou reason that the rain
shall come, makes a consorted effort to save a generation, I am so along. "Show me the
way Home". This-thiss generation ignore's the preaching for a 120-years, now water is
around their necks and the door is (slam!!) shut. "Slam-Shut". My Brothers ' Sister's
do you wonder why the likeness is impossible to live up too. We choose to live to do
our own thing - our own way. That's O'K from a selfish standpoint. But for a spiritual
analyzationable lovepoint, sometimes the seperation is somewhat confrontationable.
So-so my brother, the long way home is a fight that the "Anti-Christ commit to the
principalitie's warfare against the conscience of your mind and you become blind and
you heed to the warning and now he see's (The Anti-Christ) that you are not strong:
(I'm so all along) Now my sisters that implie's to you also, your fight is a battle the ene-
my approaches from your blindside, and if you're not carefull, "you will believe in all the
lie's. (Be Strong)
"Show Me the Way Home", LORD-show me. Me and the tall and short one's and the cre-
ated of all children's whether large or small. When we have fought against the file's of
the enemy, and we all are along. Before the gap get wider (and ?) "Show Me the
Way Home".
P.S....This Poem is the first of a two-part initative in God's awsume plan to regenerate a
society of any culture, that we as his children must ask him to "Show me the way Home".
FRAMED
In submitting my last résumé
Jessica Rabbit inspires me to say
Though some call me a cad
I’m not really that bad
It’s just that I was drawn this way
There’s a catch in assigning creation
Of our being in all its summation
To another as source
Who gave them the force?
Cue: an infinite reiteration
Still if I were the artist divine
And it were in my power to assign
All the features impose
Including the nose
I’d draw one much better than mine
Inspired by the film:
- Who framed Roger Rabbit
(Your chickens always come home to roost.)
My soul cries out each time I see your face.
My hunger for your love does not abate.
Though I'm chagrined at how my pulses race
desire burns and sucker bites the bait.
You dangle me, a puppet on a chain,
in shame, I dance around you like a flame.
As turmoil reigns, my tears stream down like rain;
raw wounds cut deep while you enjoy the game.
But time will bring your chickens home to roost
and future pill will be a bitter brine.
Perhaps someday your heart will be seduced
as you succumb to Casanova's line.
For then will Lucifer raw fate assign,
and my atonement taste like peace divine?
Help Me Lord, I’m On My Face Again
Sad events bring about a move of the Holy Spirit within me
and cause me to fall down on my bedroom floor and weep,
groanings that cannot be uttered in English
and sometimes a lack of rest and my sleep.
I cry out to Him the One Who is able to bring about
an answer by His Word or certainly by His deed,
bringing solace to the injured soul and a calming
and finally for them a pure and restful sleep.
I have told the Lord that I would gladly be one of His prayer warriors
and to do that you will have to submit,
submit to His Will and submit to His timetable
and if need be, willing to miss whatever meal.
I call upon Him and when I do,
I know that my voice He will hear,
but still His perfect timing must direct my prayer and for me not to feel neglected or stymied when I don’t hear from Him yet knowing that He is near.
He is near to the problem He has assigned and He is near to my voice
and in knowing that I will surely rejoice,
rejoice in being able to sing out His praise and sometimes the battle cry or prayer itself will cause my hands to Him to raise.
Sometimes in being a prayer warrior you feel like one of the Jewish people who marched around Jericho to cause those walls to fall,
for there are times when you to must be quiet and wait on Him to let you know when to make a sound so that He will be willing to hear your call.
I can say without a doubt the Lord’s prayer warriors
have a tremendous job for Him to do,
for as His Word states, all things are accomplished by prayer
and He has many items that He will assign to me and to you.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
October 2017
Written: December 21, 2023
_______________________________________
How may burns, scars, or dark lines identify me?
How can a red face or tan skin define my destiny?
Seek decay-proof goods akin to diamond display.
Despite affluence, cherish your spirit and pray.
There exists no absolute upper or lower limit.
Aside from that, the present moment is merit.
I can't deny that I'm here looking out, outscore.
Without the proper gear, who am I at my core?
Shy roses, withering, rest kindly below the sky.
A graceful early sun dispels all fears on display.
Leisure, love, and a longing for self-awareness.
Goals, prayers, state of mind, glee, and sadness.
Assign skills and wisdom to acquire optimism.
"Transcending Facts" overcomes dogmatism.
Fearing or trusting shock, your desire to evolve.
We relish the reprieve when our youth resolve.
As you sigh, listen to tales of grace in the rustle.
Under the stardust pledges, faith, and beats bevel.
Truly genuine, unspoken, and enduringly sincere.
It usually sounds airy and conveys a loud *****.
Our minds and views tend to be tough to grasp.
Risks and an unending waltzing of longing clasp.
Our inner child gets to freely explore his curiosity.
Even with age, life nurtures us with its complexity.
Enticing peace, eradicating chauvinism and gloom.
Mossy floors, buried in the wickedness of bloom.
Wrens and ravens on shaky twigs call for calm souls.
Who can discern the euphoria in a dewdrop's calls?
The splendor of passion ignites a desire to bind.
Forming bonds to offer ease and peace of mind.
Others show severe thirst; they're ravenous.
They'll feel it takes less to remain rapturous.
My soul is anxious to surrender the uneasy part.
Slices of me—kind, delicate, and graceful heart.
My blood flooded with God's only tender mercy.
Light shards, mixed with shining flames, calmly.
The radiant light angels restore is who we are.
Glorious hope, faith, and love, God's ideal debar.
Creating a tale over the passion we feel at heart.
Is the ideal love suited to releasing all at the start?
Programmed fools demonize our culture,
try to undermine, demoralize,
say that it’s all ‘white supremacist,’
it’s ‘patriarchal,’ ‘all built on lies.’
Overblow every mistake they find,
project onto us all of their sins,
parasites dependant on a host
that they’re busy killing from within.
Be they our teachers of professors,
or scum media lying out loud,
don’t listen when they preach self-hatred,
for there is much of which to be proud.
They like to blame us for slavery,
tell children it was unique to us,
when the Muslims enslaved twenty times
of what came to the Americas.
They don’t teach that for ten thousand years
it was commonplace to all mankind,
they do not want that much perspective
to ever enter into our minds.
They don’t mention that we helped kill it,
that the west paid in blood for that change,
or that no culture who came before
dared to take on this practice deranged.
They harp on this to guilt good people,
make them cower to the leftist crowd,
there is no need to feel self-hatred,
when there’s so much that should make you proud.
They like to proclaim that we’re ‘racist,’
it’s their favorite way to shut you up,
use your skin tint to assign virtues,
endlessly coming up with such stuff.
But the only racists out there are
the lefties who reduce us to groups,
the rest of us don’t care for this crap,
and are annoyed by people who do.
When we buried Jim Crow long ago,
held up equality under law,
we did all that a country can do,
one standard for all, despite our flaws.
Go ask China about Africans,
or the Muslim world of people dark,
and you’ll understand very quickly
that our attitudes are far apart.
We say that color doesn’t matter,
and that all who try must be allowed,
so when they preach racial self-hatred,
flip them off, you’ve a right to be proud...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.