Best Attending Poems
You won't believe this, rightfully so, you'll think it’s not true
but a person will do anything, when he starts losing his screw
I didn't feel that any one loved me, so I devised one day
to test out my theory, in the most bizarre type of way
I found a way after considerable thought, to put myself on display
and to be able to stay inconspicuous, from a secure distance away
I watched them attend my eulogy, peculiar as it may sound
enjoying the reception, It was nothing short of spellbound
Who could think, a person as crazy as I might be
going to such extremes, who would ever foresee
to accomplish this great task, of convincing my heart
someone would somehow care, if I really did depart
In the back of the room, with shades covering my eyes
sinking into a chair, surrounded by this chorus of cries
who would ever suspect, that this stranger sitting in the back
was really not far away, from being deemed a quack
When my funeral was about over, I watched those flowers start to bend
they too seemed to be saying, haven't you yet been able to mend
so I pushed myself up front, in order to get a better look
this death looks too real, what if I really did pass over that final brook
As I approached my casket, overtaken by this powerful desire
could this really be happening, shaking with a cold perspire
to escape from this nightmare, there was but one thing to do
hastening to relieve myself, running from bed to bathroom, I flew
The lesson here to be learned, after thinking about it, was simple and clear
we often have these fears, and yet are not always aware
what’s important for us, is to truly recognize in ourselves, which is the key
understanding our need to feel loved, and the absurd lengths we go, in order to see
Attending the Ball of the Dead,
Accompanied by the Ghost of Rouen
Who would of guessed your enticing flashing smile;
Ghost of Rouen.
We cut oh! such a dash, swish, splish splash.
Splendid in your gown
fashioned by them riddled by guilt.
Aren’t I the flavour amongst them?
That tells no more tales.
A medium who shares your secrets?
Now hear ye all such fine music,
together hand in hand
we enter the Ball.
Behold gasping with wonderment
one hundred majestic musicians,
summing up from their desire,
enchantment, careless abandonment.
Arrows were they? whistled past your ears,
from upright English bows,
from upright English men.
But now we are set to dance the dance,
as if all time stands still.
What I care this to be the Ball of the dead.
How they chatter and gossip everyone a ghost,
for once bound to the stake
they called you witch.
Pray I ever to seek such contentness
with one such as you, Ghost of Rouen.
Love beckons in this world
nay but the next.
Once a maid in armour now a princess In silken robes.
Spy kings , queens, emperor’s, lords and French barons,
dressed from head to toe in finery.
Mighty armies came and long gone be,
we will dance no more this night,
Ghost of Rouen.
Thank thee, thank aye thank the lord.
What precious times are had?
You with your enticing flashing smile.
Wish me, another invite
by the Ghost of Rouen to the Ball of the dead.
It never quite occurred to me, this silence in our house,
but now for more than two weeks, she’s been quieter than a mouse.
And in our fifteen years of marriage there has never been this bliss,
I thought we must be getting on - but there’s points I seem to miss.
It was at the dinner table when the nightly news was on,
her silence it was broken, she asked, ‘where our love had gone?’
I nearly choked upon me beer; has our love diminished?
I said “oh fair go Love, let’s wait until the news is finished”.
What did I say wrong? What sent her storming from the room?
Ah, she’ll get over it, once she gets back off her ‘broom’.
But here I am with collar on and hauled in with a lead,
to face a marriage councillor with a non-existent need.
The wife and I sat side by side to face this fellow in his chair,
and I was still confused about the reason why we’re there.
I copped the leading question; he asked me why we’d come along?
I shrugged me shoulders, shook me head, and said that nothings’ wrong.
But when he turned and faced my wife she had too much to say,
for she brought up every problem that we’d had along the way.
Our fifteen years of history was tormenting to a large degree,
she poured out a painful tirade with finger pointing all at me.
She went on and on about neglect, emptiness and un-met needs,
loneliness and so unloved, plus a host of selfish deeds.
She whined about my hurtful comments that are derogatory,
of socialising with me mates when I know that she needs me.
Talk about embarrassment! I didn’t know quite where to look,
the therapist would see my wife as nothing but a sook,
but he got up and walked around, and stood there face to face,
with my wife and in his arms - he gave her a tight embrace.
Then he kissed her with a passion and I’m sure I heard her moan.
Thank God I never left the pair of them in this room here alone,
because on the face of my dear wife, there’s this erotic daze,
at least she bloody shut up when she would have whined for days.
The therapist then turned to me and with a strong voice chose to speak,
“This is what your dear wife needs, at least three times a week”.
I mulled the situation over, then compromised the fellows wishing,
“Mondays and Wednesdays I’ll drop her off, but Fridays I go fishing”.
rain drops due cause the dew thickens
in the morn light barely flicking, misting
crickets stop in thickets and listen
stillness of the moment sundials ticking
presence of the motion constantly spoken
loads of odes a la mode left open
soaked in a coat my hope approaching
light broke I awoke and eloped with odin
my lips sealed no promises broken
mind in a frenzy, excited for devoting
more meaning in the fire, desire is stoking
lines that humble me, released emotions
spiritual language, balanced ascending
challenge amending, talented bending
of words I've heard or purged for an ending
my muse eludes to conclude I'm attending
May 1 Scripture Meditations Based on Psalms 17-20
Key Verse – Psalm 17:1 Hear the right, O LORD, attend unto my cry, give ear unto my prayer, that goeth not out of feigned lips.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR ATTENDING UNTO ME
Thank You for attending unto me and my cry
Especially when I’m distressed because of being spiritually dry---
Here am I struggling while frustration-losses pry
Please help me trust You always midst hardships that try.
Thank You for attending unto me and my self-pity
Especially when I’m earnest for Your loving security---
Here am I submitting myself to Your truth’s authority
Please enclose me within Your fellowship’s certainty.
Thank You for attending unto me and my desire
Especially when I’m longing that in Your heart I retire---
Here am I seeking for Your revival fire
Please pull me from worldliness mire with the grace You require.
Thank You for attending unto me and my supplication
Especially when I’m needy for Your provision---
Here am I staying in Your will’s instruction
Please guard me in every decision by Your counselling session.
Thank You for attending unto me and my difficulties
Especially when I’m weary due to challenging calamities---
Here am I searching for answers midst falsities
Please assure me according to Your Word’s verities.
Thank You for attending unto me and my commitment
Especially when I’m determined to increase my heavenly investment---
Here am I stretching my faith in ministry involvement
Please strengthen me along Your empowerment.
May 1, 2022
Deranged conventions apathy's consent,
the meeting place, contingent on the rent,
my searching's format needs no such invent
what crucial judgment surfaces intent?
This screening of concern, ne'er by relent,
my trials winding grossly follow meant.
Attending as a witness, I am bent
and yet the justice ~ solar detriment!
I can't but focus on this implement
without attendance, and yet not extent,
the numbers pushing blind my own intent,
a voice is muffled, I am lastly spent!
But give me reason to extol advent,
I must be heard to forward sentiment.
A writer joins the soul to compliment
some virtue of each issue ~
. . . . . . printed, sent!