Best Carrying Out Poems
I am a coward with open sores.
I write and wonder who it bores.
I hear my heart and mind argue repeatedly.
I see others carrying out my dreams;
that’s what’s defeated me.
I am a coward with open sores.
I pretend open doors are closed, and walk the other way.
I touch base with the fear in my heart, tearing me apart,
leaving nothing to say...
I worry the world will leave me.
I cry because no one believes in me.
I am a coward with open sores.
I understand nothing comes easy.
I say I’m happy, but even I don’t believe me.
I dream I am healed and brave.
I try to overcome my weaknesses before I’m in my grave.
I hope you hear me.
I’m on all fours.
I am a coward with open sores.
© 2011 ~JSLaM
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* 1st PLACE in Contest "MARCH MADNESS" Sponsored by C. Devonshire 2011
* 1st PLACE in Contest "ONE OFF" Sponsored by Brian Strand 5/11/2011
* 1st PLACE in Contest "BEST EVER" Sponsored by P.D. 2011
Christmas with Christ – Melchoir’s Story
Wondrous symbols and signs appear in the heavens,
heralding that an amazing event is about to happen…
the birth of a royal child in the town of Bethlehem,
one who will transform the world and make it whole again.
Guided by the light of a strange brilliant star,
I and my companions travel by night from afar.
We come to pay homage to this newborn Jewish King,
this Prince of Peace who will save our world from sin.
We wonder, how can this be, when all we see
are such wretched signs of abject poverty?
Joseph, Mary, and Lord Jesus, the little Baby,
sheltered with oxen, sheep, and lamb in a stable.
But we three kings humbly fall on our knees in wonder,
bowing our heads and giving our hearts to this Babe so tender.
Sensing we’re in the midst of a divine, royal presence,
Gaspar, warm brown eyes aglow, gifts Him rare frankincense.
Noble Balthazar, his dark chocolate skin glistening,
presents Him with aromatic, rich myrrh, for anointing;
and I, Melchoir, entranced by this miraculous sight,
bring precious gold to worship Him, this Child of Light.
Holding the Babe in my arms, there're no words to be said;
but as I cuddle Him closely, I’m overcome with intense dread.
For in a vision, I can clearly see Him suffering years ahead;
He’s nailed to a wooden cross, wearing a bloodied crown of red.
Impulsively, I’m tempted to hide Him in my warm cloak of gold,
and help Him escape from a fate that’s been foretold.
While history will see me as only one of Three Wise Men,
none will ever know that I could’ve changed fate right then.
But wisely I realize that it’s not for me to decide
whether this innocent Child shall live or be crucified.
I only know I must not interfere, but leave Him to fulfill
His Messianic destiny, by carrying out God’s divine will.
So while sadly, reluctantly, for the Orient I must depart,
I also leave with happiness and great hope in my heart,
as my vision also revealed, there’s redemption in His blessed birth;
and there'll be good will toward all men and Peace on Earth!
11-22-2015
I knew them in their innocence
Once filled with imagination and joy
Playing fun games, climbing trees
Offering a helping hand to others
Able to care, able to be who they are
Then, those who ruled had their way
Teaching inexplicable things
They were trapped by ‘conditional’ love
Striving, always striving to earn it
Nothing was ever good enough
Then abuse, turned their fear to rage
Later, I saw them become hollow
Empathy was gone with time
Hollow like dead, old, trees
Acting out as if they will never fall
Following footsteps of those who ruled
Becoming a reflection of all they endured
They are living, but they are gone
Carrying out their immoral ways
Was it the only way to get recognition?
Was it the only way to be safe?
By being on the side of perpetrators?
I will never know the full reason
I have only watched to witness
Their innocence disappear in the dark
But, I still remember the days
When they were young and innocent
Just trying to be who they are
Now, their eyes hold a vacant stare
Their beings are hollow, without a care
Turned into the monsters they once feared
Heidi Sands
6/11/18
*Placed 2nd in the Hollow Contest.
The sea summons in unrelenting whispers
haunting the night as waves spin their spliced harrowing tales
Hallowed echoes an unending scourge over tenderness
weeping secrets wait held in bondage’s everlasting kiss
Terrified to speak as translation becomes disloyalty
aching is betrayal and compassion is flammable fragility
One misstep and balance becomes twisted alienated from truth
as fear takes hold from these toxic dissonant words
Scathing reproach becomes buried beneath tidal swells
carrying out its inevitable pilgrimage towards unrighteousness
Cold suspicion scatters on the shores in broken shells
trapped by suffering and tormented by long ago betrayals
Decaying memories never lived once imagined still dwell unanswered
this is not love quietly whispers on the wind of denial's farewell....
Devil in the Pullpit
It's Sunday service,
and there you are!
A wolf in sheeps clothing,
stalking your prey from afar.
your lambs are oblivious,
they are being led to the slaughter,
one would never suspect you,
not even your own daughter.
People are charmed,
by your style and charisma.
Little could they know,
your intentions are so dismal.
Sinister at best,
to describe your twisted plans.
Seeking out the weak,
who put their trust in your hands.
Externally seen as a "man of God",
internally, you were nothing
more than a modern
day Judas Kiss!
As you prepare your sermon,
no one has a clue;
the man who preaches salvation,
is an evil Pharisee too!
The organ begins to play,
and I feel your cold stare.
Without speaking a word,
the warning is very clear.
Proudly, you once said to me,
"Go ahead and tell if you dare.
You think someone will believe?"
You don't know the power invested in me!
I sit amid the pews,
concealing your secret.
I've held it in for this long,
but I can no longer keep it!
You are a devil in the pullpit,
a serpent among swine.
Ruthlessly carrying out satan's work,
tainting that which is Divine....
GOD DID NOT DIE AND LEAVE YOU IN CHARGE
God didn't die and leave you in charge.
Who told you that you could decide who lives, and whose to die.?
Stop trying to take lives that you did not give life to.
God didn't die and leave you in charge.
Mad man- take your billions and search for your soul.
Money is your god; You want power and control.
but the big guy above the sky...didn't die, and
Leave you in control
Mother nature will remove the weak and send them home.
We don't need your beastly mark 666, in a Bill, or in a pill, or in a vaccine.
He gave us dominion over the earth, and each of us an earthly home.
Stay in your lane, leave people alone, because:
The Creator of this world “is still on his throne",
we know who you are and we know what you’re doing.
And when the people rebel it's your life, and after-life that'll be ruined.
Those who are carrying out your third world disorder scheme,
are the same ones who'll share in your torture and shame...
I know what i am saying, hope you catch my drift before i drop names...
Soon the living God will call all chaos to order.
Because the God of this universe is alive, well and at large...
God is not dead....and you’re not in charge.
Sea of blue,
crags of white,
bitter wind,
majestic sight
For this is world of white
and blue
white mountains of ice,
blue sea salty and true
midnight sun on icy wastes,
cool reflected light,
pristine wilderness,
not to everyone's taste
Stark white cold,
wind eroded columns of ice
roar of wind
roar of sky
Icebergs scattered in the blue
raw wind strips me bare,
the environment does not care....
about you.
Sea,sky and ice,
nature's freezing cocktail,
untameable wilderness,
man cannot sacrifice.
Pure elements,
to touch the senses
Inhospitable sea,sky and ice,
its very extremes,
to prevent men of this world
carrying out their dreams
Pure cold energy roaring,
with bitter intent,
gulls soaring,
men......spent
Nature's cold refuge,
from man and his dreams.
White armour protects,temperature deflects,
man's subterfuge
white mountain,
white water,
white wind
Blue sea,
blue sky,
blue wind
world of white and blue
A three year old dreamy child
lying down beside his dad
at night on the open terrace
eyes wide open gazing at the sky
asked him the following question:
"Dad what are those bright white speckles above?"
"They are stars", dad replied.
"Will they fall down on me?"
"No. They will not".
"They are so bright and shiny. I wish to go up there and play with them".
Dad laughed at his little one's innocence and said:
"My dear, they are huge glowing balls of gases in the universe. Our sun is also a star. There are trillions of stars in the universe".
The child was silent for some time.
He stared gape-mouthed at the
black canvas of the night sky
sprinkled with silvery dots
guided by the glorious full moon
for some time and asked his dad:
"Do they have names?"
"Yes. Some have names we give to them but most of them do not"
"Is there a star in my name?", the child asked with sparkling eyes.
His dad replied:
"If you grow up to shine bright to eliminate the darkness of ignorance..."
"If you share your love impartial to all, just like the stars sharing their energy..."
"If you are steadfast in carrying out your responsibilities to make the world a better place..."
"Then there sure will be a Star in your Name!"
The child gave a bright smile as if
satisfied with his dad's answer.
Date: 11/11/2020
Submitted for 'There Is A Star With My Name On It Poetry Contest'
Sponsored by: Silent One
Second Place
I have stories in my heart I want to tell
Some of people in paradise and others in hell
I know all the characters in my stories well
Some perish, while some are saved by the bell
The characters are just you and me in print
Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink
They maybe imagined, made up names and identities
But they are just like us, our situations and realities
Like God running the world and carrying out his plans
I forge words and create stories with twists and turns
Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose
Where no one can escape the blues
I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch
The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench
Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas
Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance
Heartbreaks all over and death in the end
In imagination as in reality, its hard to find a friend
Every man for himself and every woman abused
Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used
Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales
Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails
Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales
People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails
Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients
Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients
I compose the truth in exaggerated prose
Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose
My characters may not be close to fame just yet
But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet
More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth
Best laid plans, matters of life and death
An unedited anthology of human tragedies
An underground bible of life’s vanities
With chapters and passages for my eyes only
Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely
When that day comes maybe I will be famous
But for now, I am unpublished anonymous
I chose
I could’ve been
A homebound hermit,
Hypnotized by the hum
And hue,
Of a high-tech
HD computer screen.
A slave
To the
Rhythmic rap
Of
Clicking keys;
Depriving me
Of much
Needed rest.
I’d Search
For Love
And friendship
In a network
Of strangers,
Oblivious to
The world
Outside.
I would’ve
Made a great
Defense lawyer.
With my
Appetite to argue.
I’d rescue
Common crooks,
Convicted of crimes;
From the
Confinements
Of a cell.
I’d lobby
For leniency
With lavish
Litigation laws.
Dedicating myself
To Dissembling
The Death penalty
I should’ve
Joined
The army,
A proud patriot,
Surpassing
My peers
Through promotion;
From a potato peeling private,
To a more
Prominent position.
Pushing my
Paratroopers out
Of a plane.
Parading my men
On the field
Of battle.
I’d receive
A war
Winning wound,
Perhaps a
Purple Heart.
I could’ve
Been a detective.
Cleverly cracking
Cold cases-
CSI style,
Coercing confessions
From criminals
And Con-men.
Collecting a
Cheap watch,
As compensation
For my commitment
To the precinct.
I should’ve
Been a doctor.
Devoting my life
To curing
The incurable,
Letting long hours
Deprive me
From family.
Always
At the
Beckon call,
Of work
Provided beeper.
Carrying out
Curative procedures,
On clients
That are
Scarcely clinging
To life.
I would’ve
Made a
Terrific teacher.
Choosing to
Live my life
Through the
Youthfulness of
My students.
Teaching them
To take on
The world
With caution
And Confidence.
Lecturing them
With lessons
Of longevity.
Disguising
My desire-
Jealous of
Their youth.
My choice,
Was not to
Focus on
One aspect
Of life,
But to
Experience
Them all.
With the stroke
Of a pen,
I walk
All paths.
I chose
All destinies.
I could’ve
Been this,
Or been that…
I should’ve
Done this,
Or done that…
I would’ve
Made this
Or made that…
Instead,
I chose to write.
Once upon a time there lived a very small caterpillar. She was quite shy, meek, and timid of small crowds. She would even go out of her way to avoid confrontation with the other insects until one very important day. One day she saw danger coming to her caterpillar environment and so she had to go out on a limb in order to get the attention of all the other insects. She had to make her presence known and forget all about her shyness. She even had to dress a little bit differently and carry a different tune in her heart. She had to help the rest of the caterpillars see that there was true danger on the horizon. She needed to show them what the future would bring.
A certain amount of time had passed and small tragedies began to happen in her neck of the woods. The branches of her tree began to shake and the apples all began falling from the trees. She tried to warn everyone up until this point in time, but no one would pay attention to her. Now her popularity grew and half the insect population came to hang out on her branch of the tree. She could not rest day or night. She was barraged with requests to speak to the other insects.
Soon enough the weather changed and the leaves began to fall. It was now autumn time and a mighty gust of wind came and took them all up. Up, up, and away to a mightier tree than they were perched on before. It was the mightiest oak tree of all. It made the tree they were previously perched on look like a small sapling. Once they arrived atop the new tree their entire existence began to change. They were now safe. They had solid shelter. They also had a view like none other.
What is the moral of this story you might ask? The moral of this story is that it takes a small meek caterpillar to accomplish great things! It also takes a brave caterpillar to go out on a limb to ensure the safety of the rest of the community. And thirdly, if you want to do something mighty for your community you must imagine yourself carrying out the task even before the opportunity presents itself.
Jeremiah 17:7 But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him.
Little Davy wanted a puppy for Christmas
His parents, though, were totally against it
Davy whimpered and whined til he was breathless
“Please,” he wrote to Santa, “bring a puppy, Mr. Clause”
The big day drew closer and Davy said a prayer,
“Please, dear Lord, let my puppy be there”
He went to bed on the night before Christmas
With hope in his heart and a tender kiss from Mom
Bright and early the next morning, Davy arose and running,
Went downstairs to the Christmas tree to see what was coming.
The first thing he noticed was that the puppy was not there.
He felt a tear sting his eyes but promised not to care.
All the presents were unwrapped and all that seemed to be left…
Was carrying out the wrapping paper to go into the trash bin.
Davy knew it was his job to do this simple task and wasn’t asked
When he began to carry the leftover wrappings to the kitchen.
It was then, in the kitchen, that he noticed a familiar sound
The sound of whimpering and digging beneath a cabinet there in the corner.
Davy rushed over to the cabinet and began to pull at its doors.
Out came a big black lab with one ear flopped over against its head.
“Mom, Dad,” Davy screamed with excitement, “Santa left a puppy…
He just left it in the kitchen cupboard, but it is there and it loves me!”
Davy was grinning his biggest grin as Mom and Dad came in…
“Well,” they began, “It looks like you have your wish.” Then they began
To tell him all he had to do to care for this new member of the family.
“You’ll have to feed him and walk him and take care that he stays warm”
“You’ll have to care for him with all your heart and make sure you love him”
“You’ll have to see that he has all his shots just like you had to have.”
Davy laughed with surprise at the ease of all they said and smiled with such pride…
That his puppy would be called Fred!!!
Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Eastman
Oft' I've pondered if when God peers down upon this His own Creation,
And sees this blue marble heading for calamity with each day's rotation,
That He must shake His head and weep at the chaos humanity hath wrought,
Wondering why folks can't abide by The Golden Rule His Son once taught!
Peoples who cry out for freedom are crushed 'neath wicked tyrants' heels,
While autocrats amass vast fortunes, ignoring the impoverished folks' appeals!
He must be appalled that there are even some religions that foster strife;
That there are those who plot evil and don't respect the sanctity of life!
He must look with dismay at the lack of stewardship and the mess we've made,
Of His once pristine orb that we've managed to leave so polluted and frayed!
His magnificent forests and waters aren't immune from mankind's rapacious greed.
We've harvested their bounty and ravaged resources without regard to need!
Old men plot and the very young die carrying out their nefarious schemes.
All too young they die, never having the opportunity to realize their dreams.
God must wonder why there is so much mayhem and lack of brotherhood,
Among folks of diverse races and creeds even in their own neighborhood!
He must at times consider hurling this orb of His into the ebon void of space,
And begin genesis anew since we persist in certain doom at a steady pace!
Thankfully, we have a merciful God Who will sort things out for us along the way,
But it might be well to concoct a plausible story to tell Him on Judgement Day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I arrived at my dad's flat
to be greeted by my auntie
who was in a state of shock
she had found my dad
sitting on his bed staring into space
she had tried to engage my dad in conversation
but he was totally unresponsive
the back story briefly:
my dad had lung, skin and prostrate cancer
and he was now living on borrowed time
although he had looked brighter
before he was discharged
today my dad resembled a ghost
I managed to get my dad in his wheelchair
and take him to the bathroom
where he fell unconscious
I slapped my dad's face
I didn't want to
but I had to
he came back to me
the relief was like a volcano exploding
I checked on my auntie
who was still visibly shaking
she was 95 and my favourite auntie
seeing her shaking and crying
made my feel so useless
dad's Macmillan Nurse arrived
and assessed the situation
she rang for the ambulance
I knew the answer already
but I still asked her if this was it
she didn't need to say a word
there was a knock at the door
and in came the paramedics
after carrying out their checks
we headed off to Whiston Hospital
in the back of the ambulance
I held my dad's hand and looked into his eyes
I told him it was almost time to return Home
I encouraged him to embrace the Light
and not to be afraid
I told him his father was there waiting for him
I told my dad I loved him
it was our final conversation.
Ukraine has got chemical weapons, the Russians claim
That are being used against their soldiers to kill and maim
And those apartments you see blown to smithereens
Are only illusions that we see, on our TV screens.
Russia claims actors are used and are pretending to be dead
Evil Putin is using propaganda to get inside your head
Russia called a ceasefire so that non combatants could flee
Then his army opened fire on them, how ruthless can they be
Those images you see of the old and infirm, trying to get away
Are just old folks enjoying the sunshine out for the day
With their worldy possessions in a supermarket bag
Doesn't make any difference that they're waving a white flag.
And those generous Russian soldiers handing out food
Is just lies and propaganda they're trying to delude
A false flag is another ploy that the Russians use
To distort and hide the truth then carry out abuse.
A Russian jet has now carried out a devious strategy
Firing at a small town in Belarus called Kopani
This is the perfect excuse, that Belarus has been looking for
They'll blame the Ukrainian airforce and enter the war.
The besieged Ukrainian cities, need food and medical aid
But supplies are stuck in Poland, is the west really afraid?
Nobody likes violent war but sometimes it's the only way
And those carrying out atrocities. must be made to pay.
Written on 11th March 2022