Best Catapults Poems
Aquafirs miles away in my mind
warming with springtime sun
lapping upon the shores of my memory
sending involuntary movements to my legs
moving thoughts to music echoing in my limbs
Beethoven's 5th. Symphony catapults me out the door
into glorious sunshine
hiking trails, dormant for months (seems like years)
staring at boulders basking in the sun
touching bark on trees grooves of my growth
smelling the earth dug up with my hands
sifting my life turning my face towards the sun
warming tidal planes in my mind
recalling the ebb and flow of me upon this land
marking my scent in the woods (as men do)
tracking the sun as
it moves across my day foraging sprouting edibles
as earth releases life
pausing to lay down in prairie grass and nap
in sweet scented dreams refilling all my senses
for the journey...
I have still to travel
I have still to travel...
03/29/14
© All Rights Reserved
Wordsmiths, take heed ...
Letters of the alphabet,
By themselves are but harmless shapes
Of ink or graphite or digital information,
(Placed in ordered variations of ones and zeros),
But when combined in specific patterns and placement and propriety,
Become the most powerful weapons and tools known to humanity.
How many countless lives have been changed, worsened, improved,
Manipulated, darkened, brightened, ended, or even BEGUN,
As a result of their use by an intelligent mind and deft writing implement?
How much love, hate, kindness, vitriol, care, apathy,
Truth, hypocrisy, forgiveness, jealousy, joy, or even horror,
Has been carried to its mark by the thoughtful control
Of their placement and structure and management?
Oh, what horrible irony there is in the assumption that "words can never hurt" ...
They are, without a doubt, the most hurtful things ever created by man,
And yet their keen and acute ambiguity make them their own saviors,
And by positive application and intent,
Can be the most magnificent and wonderfully
Exquisite creations that we are capable of.
Be ever vigilant when you consider their organization and use,
For by their very nature you may be sending forth
A thoughtful work of fascination and beauty,
Or unleashing a monster of incalculable horror and venom.
WE are the bows that send the arrows forth,
WE are the guns that let loose the bullets,
WE are the catapults that let fly the burning stones,
But we are also the hands that pick the flowers,
That gently part the hair, that hold and caress with tenderness,
That encourage and help and touch and feel and explain and honor ...
ALL by the ways we form and group those individual letters of the alphabet,
ALL in the mindful ways we arrange
Those seemingly harmless little squiggles and lines ...
If we only treated words with the same care and respect and caution
That we allow weapons and miracles,
For they are easily as wonderful ...
And easily as dangerous.
SOUL TO SOUL
(Written for Mother Sandy Stone, whom I met in 1992.)
SOUL TO SOUL ***
The early morning call.
A sand dollar skitters in before its rushing wave.
A message bringing within a mosaic of tears,
long to explore.
The sand dollar rolling ahead
of a white-foaming wave.
Memory catapults her presence
again beside me.
The sand dolllar pauses on some wet sand
and slowly gives the sky a twirl.
Hers was an enfolding heart that Gave and Knew.
The sand dollar, yet to tip, receives
the brightness of the sun.
Hers was the company of light, soul to soul.
The sand dollar at last rests,
beyond any waves pulling it back.
The everywhere she went, already misses her.
The sand dollar, not thrilled by blank, blue sky,
Is joyous to see tiny fingers taking hold of its
circling side,
blocking the sun with such
a blessed giggling heart.
——————————————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 2/5/22
Glory to God
News flash
Paris attacks;
Violence strikes
~~~~~~~~~
Innocent deaths
Terror unveils;
Death delivers
~~~~~~~~~
Madness conspires
Human debris;
Bigotry unleashed
~~~~~~~~~
Evil men scheme
Distorted agendas;
Self-destruct roams
~~~~~~~~~
Good people die
Bloodbath escalates;
Terror unleashed
~~~~~~~~~
Signs of our times
Deceptive turbulence;
Mortal casualties
~~~~~~~~~
Moods swayed
Fear catapults;
Distorted means
~~~~~~~~~
Uneasy chimes
Violent crimes;
Explosive times!
~~~~~~~~~
Details of gore
News galore;
Killing fest
~~~~~~~~~
Retribution
Constitution;
Revolution
~~~~~~~~~
Sorrow sums
Deadly outcomes;
Cruelty strikes
~~~~~~~~~
Newsprint copy
Headline news;
Terror firms madness
~~~~~~~~~
Propaganda hurls
People fodder;
Bombs and bullets
~~~~~~~~~
Create if you must
Lodge your complaint;
Body bags not included!
~~~~~~~~~
Atrocities
Exclusive news;
Pain sells well
~~~~~~~~~
Face to face
Terror redecorates;
Body debris trophies
~~~~~~~~~
Why do you do
The things you do?
Tell me
~~~~~~~~~
Love hurts
Violence hurts;
We all hurt
~~~~~~~~~
Precious times
Ransoms forfeit;
Sad humanity mourns
~~~~~~~~~
The cycle of circles
Bad and good;
Seeking balance
~~~~~~~~~
Maybe we can
Find tomorrow;
Safely better?
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 November 2015
Singapore
For years, you have been trying to catch that elusive bird.
In your cartoons, we have never heard a single word.
Warner Brothers decided to give the late Mel Blanc a break.
With no dialogue, there were many foolish steps you would take.
That Acme Company must have made a fortune off you.
You failed at every single attempt you would do.
Each fly ball you hit never left the ballpark.
With rockets, catapults, and bombs, you kept missing your mark.
The lousiest luck hit you in each episode.
That roadrunner kept zooming down the desert road.
With each failure, you kept coming back the next day.
Give it up, coyote. Roadrunners do not taste good anyway.
The moon slid far across the skies
It sparkled in her sleepy eyes
The moonbeams laughing as they danced
To keep her in their light entranced
With a brilliant rush they lift her right
Into the dotted swiss of night
And toss her high from star to star
While moonlight watches from afar
In perfect stride and harmony
Across the neon sky goes she
She waltzes on a comet's tail
Until the tides of night grow pale
And as the beckoning dawn draws nigh
Her eyes grow weary and with a sigh
She catapults from the moon's embrace
Back into bed she takes her place
When hearts are broken,
They travel to the land of sadness
By ships of sorrow,
They sail through oceans of tears.
Captained by solitude,
They go through raging storm of unsettledness
Broken hearts go deep,
Into trenches of pain.
Intoxicated by grief,
They tremble in fear
Fading reason,
Catapults them into the field of mayhem.
They suffer pinches from thorns of loneliness
And are made to settle on the throne of solitude
Ask me where broken hearts go,
And I'll tell you
They go nowhere,
But deep down the drain.
STRANJA
Morning assembly
Classroom hell
Couldn't count couldn't spel
School books and fountain pens
Playing in the playground with all my friends
Gobstoppers and chewing gum
Plastic sandals boys shorts to hide your bum
Wax crayons and powder paint
Rembrandt I never was and still an't
Sweets and comics hidden in desk
Pulling the girls pigtails
Playing with frogs and snails
Conkers and catapults
Girls sticking tongues out
And insults
Shooting them with my catapult
Infantile funny paintings hung on wall
It's you Miss warts sand all
On the meadow making daisy chains
Gangs of kids skipping down the lane
Making peashooters and paper airplanes
Dinner Ladies frogspawn and lumpy gravy
Playing a tree in the school play
wearing my sisters hand downs embarrassed everyday
Dancing around the maypole with a girl Yuk!
I''d run away (Not now)
School trips to the zoo
Should have caged a bully or two
Standing in a corner facing the wall as punishment
Pocket money always spent
The Nit nurse ooh my head is itchy and hurts
Hop scotch elastic and two ball against the wall
Playing marbles in the hall
Throwing stones then hiding behind a wall
Thinking your Batman or Robin Hood
Late for school teacher out for your blood
Nursery rhymes Singing songs
Being bored all day long
Running jumping around
Pet spider in match box Joe
The girls ran away see them go
Looking at the clouds on your back
School sports day egg and spoon race
Three legged race running in a sack
Balaclaves and mittens
OVer coats wuth lables hung on rack
Day over school bell
Run like hell.
Peter Dome. Copyright.2016. May.
Strong waves cycle round and round
Soft waves circle mound and mound.
Azure breeze catapults waves
Sunlight falls, excites lightwaves.
Peace is though difficult
Yet not impossible to uphold,
All the kings of the states
Must remain self-concerned,
Without poking noses
Into the affairs of others,
Curbing cupidity
To expand the territories,
Subjugate the nations of the world,
Enforce the so-called personal visions,
And put the humanity
Into new-fangled trials.
All the weapons
Latest, conventional or primitive,
Precious or utterly worthless,
Nuclear or less potential
Made of common explosives,
Be spoiled,
Be thrown into the deep waters
Of the unexplored seas,
Wherefrom no devilish character
Could ransack them back.
When some is killed
Neither Hindu, nor Muslim,
Neither Christian nor Jew is killed,
But a man: a child of Adam and Eve,
The same red substance
Pours out of his injured ragged body,
And it pains me.
All the weapon producing units,
And the blood spattering gadgets:
The tanks and cannons,
Mortars or machines guns,
The armadas
With the squadrons of fighter-jets,
Submarines that navigate
Secretly chase the nautical targets,
Catapults and all the missiles launching frames,
Be thrown into furnaces
To be remodelled and redesigned
Into of the earth moving machinery,
Instead of the appliances
Colouring the Earth red.
All the medals or symbols
Of chivalry be taken back,
Combatants and men
With the crowned shoulders,
And medalled chests,
Who often move in the battle-fields
Puffed with the martial pride,
Imparting, rendering
No service to humanity
Be employed to plough the lands,
Plant the gardens,
Make the dams and reservoirs of water,
Feed the cattle and get them milked on time,
Engaged them
To perform some rewarding assignments.
Upon the earth,
There must not be a single
Blood-claiming weapon;
If men are incensed
And fight is unavoidable,
They must fight with knives and rapiers,
Swords and shields made of gossamer,
All the time heeding
Lest they should break;
And all inhabitants of the world
At least once a day must trim their nails,
Lest when they are indignant
And resentful should scratch
The skin of fellow beings or their own.
Grandparents.
Many, many years ago
when grannies were little girls.
They had very long hair with polka-dot ribbons
entwined around their curls.
And granddads played with catapults and different
wooden toys.
They were full of mischief and curious little boys.
They learn to climb the tallest trees
and tease the little girls.
And pull their polka-dot ribbons out
and mess up all their curls.
Then they grew up and fell in-love
that's when their lives began to change.
They'd act daft with lovey stuff
which some girls found very strange.
Lives tapestry exchanges their struggles
to survive.
The best memories are those of my grandparents
and the changes in their lives.
What do you want me to write?
I think I will write about faith
What is faith?
Is it something you can see
can grab, can hang onto?
Yes, yes, and yes
You can see in someone though not visually, with your spirit eyes
You can feel in someone though not spoken
You can attach and reattach
You can detach and be attacked
Either way it works for you and not against you
It lifts you out of the bound and sets you on a firmer ground
It heals your senses, body, and anything it touches
It removes doubt, fear, oppression, and things not called for
It calls into being what is not spoken
It determines our fate through words that are spoken
It affirms our senses, values, ownership through its grandeur
It moves mountains, blockage, obstruction
It brings one to one's knees in a moment of desperation, brokenness
It catapults one to one's spiritual height
It remains with one through one's deepest sorrows
What can it do?
It can do a lot
Whatever one wants it to do, it will do
Because He will do
Because faith is God
And God is faith
Can't separate one from another
God meant for us to have faith
And have faith plenty
Have faith in everything
Because "faith is the assurance of things hoped for
the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11-1)
"And without faith, it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6)
"For we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7)
Because we need to "fight the good fight of faith" (1 Timothy 6:12)
Because faith is a gift
Knights, horses, shields, swords
Battle rams, motes, bridges, horns-
Catapults tower
For Caleb and his Lego Wars
I know this man of God that roars from the bottom of the city, below the red blood line.
Knowing that his words never fail, every Sunday I make my way down to the bottom of the city to hear this man of God.
I rest my weight on the hard wooden bench with worn out cushion just to let this man of God spew out the words of God like rain upon my soul.
Many Sundays his pounding and prolific oratory would shake my unconscious, this man of God.
His words of God are righteous and they filled the sanctuary like a balloon, and this man of God is always in harmony.
This man of God energy is that of the sun because the glory of God's love is upon him.
This man of God method of delivering the holy word is conventional, yet he catapults his sermons in the most phenomenal fashion.
This man of God spontaneously in the spirit of the moment kindles the heart of the captive congregation with vociferous and powerful narrations. With resourceful minds, they are aboard a spiritual ship riding the waves of his glorious orations.
I know this man of God, that roars from the bottom of the city, below the red blood line.
Although it is said that he is an academic man with degrees from prestigious institutions, I know this man of God as a most humble and gifted man.
As he roars, and sing, and teach, and spring, I am glad that God led me to this servant of God, that roars from the bottom of the city below the red blood line.
Created by Mary E.W. Stephenson and submitted to Daily Press in the community section online.
Love catapults fledgling hearts
beyond infatuation.
For when passion's flame ignites:
hearts burn, in exultation.
The human psyche places
trust at the core of our souls.
And innocence quickly learns
to explore sexual roles.
Feelings of jubilation
replace fear as doubt departs.
And encouraged by desire;
Hope takes root in fertile hearts.
Fulfilling youth's fantasies,
love blossoms with every kiss.
And young lovers share a dream;
imbued with heavenly bliss.