Best Coffer Poems
“The heart hath its own memory, like the mind, and in
It are enshrined the precious keepsakes, into which is
Wrought the giver’s loving thought.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Dear Treasure Chest
Invaluable is tender love’s domain,
that ruby red that lies beneath the breast.
But just as precious is the treasure chest
which houses our intelligence - the brain.
With memories exquisite to retain,
this coffer is the one that serves us best.
And likely we’ll not know how well we’re blessed
till luster of our keepsakes starts to wane.
The ruby oft is lost; we pay a toll.
Yet time and time again, that gem we find.
Not so within the storehouse of our soul
when strands of fond remembrances unwind.
Dear treasure chest of which we’ve no control,
what good the heart when pearls fade from the mind?
For the contest of Sara Kendrick
Don't claim that you know me don't even try
You don't have the tools to open that door, no matter how hard you pry
If I share part of me with you you're only getting what I offer
My thoughts are constantly evolving and could not fit anyone's coffer
I would rather tell you the truth, and bare all of your ire
Then spend a second with you, if you' are a ____ liar
If you play games with me do not be surprised
When I decide to play too, and expose all of your lies
However if your fourth right in showing patience with me
I will show you a depth of love, your life never thought it would see
If you expect that I will chase you, be prepared to want a lot more
I'm likely to barely say goodbye, but I'll happily open the door
I'm not the type of person, that lives to forgive and forget
But if you earn friendship with me, I'll take your place in hell, with no regret
If you find yourself my lover, you have won life's greatest prize
For after you've been cherished by me, no other will catch your eyes
The best moments in my life, are the ones that no one else will ever know
Loving, loyal, intuitive and passionate, I am a Scorpio
There is the Christ
of a minister's coffer
a Christ of the theater's
show-time
a Christ bought and sold~
the merchant's patron saint
Then, there is the Christ of
the heart eternal...who I've
met at the breast of a mother
with her newborn, His infant
essence~ her labored reward –
the Christ I've seen in the
under-paid nurse, standing in
the shadow of higher accolade
seen Him dismembered, yet
clearly, on battlefields in places
foreign to those blessed selfless'
sighs
sat at the foot of His Throne,
all healed, angels singing praise
while extending His Hand, saying
that I should rise: “Glory to God,
in His Highest!”~ no-longer any
fear left in me, seeing only love in
my Brother's Divinely Beckoning
Eyes.
To myself to I, to God I asked
what nature of sample shall I give,
the tribute must be something, already possessed
and not a thing to be acquired or easily accessed,
what type of treasure, what placid pleasure,
what measure of scintillating success should be expressed,
many feelings, dealings, winnings and blessings I have
like the menificent merchant of an ageless & melancholy market,
however I am disinterested in the buying & selling of impressive items,
something of my core should be present, priceless, respirative,
multitudes give Deity thick thanks in pompous prayers
or grim graveling of worship,
others offer animal immolation or coin from shallow pocket,
as does everyone I experience the panic of pain,
that terrible teacher of no remorse whose curriculum
makes carion of cowards,
but as a student of Life and thus a pupil of pain
I realised that my mind can be a calm cistern,
my heart a coffer of adversity's copious rewards,
the determination is made,
my proudest possession, enlightenment derived from pain,
enchanting and admonishing like the howls of hungry beasts,
a gift of character, a jewel of dreams manifest,
God accepted and said,
" Someone, somewhere, somehow is suffering to better feats" -
J.A.B.
If words could envelop fire,
I’d whisper softly into a quiet
note and let the pyre in my
lonely coffer spill out it’s smokey dispatch.
Letting pathos glow inside carrion’s beat,
I would endeavor this note reach a messenger
with quick feet, so that you would read it before
I became nothing more than a ruin,
damned by it’s own occasion.
I would speak with a gentle urgency,
through teeth like embers of brimstone.
" Let not your tender humor steer you
in a direction that would wilt us both.
Fan the flames that have consumed me,
It’s a burn that fuels our passion
I love you and the pain that you bring,
you are the brightness in the sky,
and the darkness of night.
You are the sting of broken flesh,
and the sweet release of blood that flows.
You are the healing of my blackened benevolence,
and the anger in my wisdom.
You are my second eye,
and my heaviest anchor.
You are the spark,
and the kindle.
You are my Queen.”
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
As I stand by my coffer
Like the Ganges let my tears cleanse your soul
For I go to fight my demons
And the cheers from the arena will echo through the world
Let them forever whisper the moments we had
For I learnt to kill the dead
As I sit by my grave
“I am not dead till you forget “in stone engrave
And this termites will feast me till am nothing I Rest in Distress
Let the soil absorb my sorrows
And the fruits remind you of the happiness we felt
For I learnt to kill the dead
As I sleep in the kiln
The world is my urn scatter me by the sea
And in the deepest trenches let my sins sink like debris
Let the wind Whisper my greatest deeds
And by your lips my legend will live
For I learnt to kill the Dead
As I take my seat in the Hades
The everlasting fire warm my soul I am cold
Burn my pain to ashes purify me to grace
Let the screams be music to your ears
Get a drink cheers my life celebrate
For I learnt to kill the dead
"As soon as the coin in the coffer rings; the soul in purgatory will spring"~Friar Tetzel~Salesman for the Pope 1517
He knew indulgences and such were corrupt
the church just out to make an unholy buck
he loved his poor parishioners a bunch
he had to do something this unknown monk,
Not being able to take anymore
he nailed his 95 theses to the Wittenburg church door
arrested he stood firmly for all his beliefs
his friends eventually stealing him in the night like thieves,
While in hiding he translated the Latin Bible into German
that way his people could read and then learn from
instead of just digesting what all the priests had to say
they read and interperted for themselves without delay,
Of course religious tension and fighting ensued
but because of Luther his people were not as confused
the German scriptures giving them new light
instead of the churches teachings and their indulgent lies,
Martyrs before and after Luther lending him a helping hand
all murdered because they took a "heretical" brave stand
many burned at the stake the pope declaring they were damned
while Protestantism swept like wildfire throughout the German land.
10-31-17
I'm remembering our tender moments; how sweet was love
that filled pages of poetry you will never read, where I wrote of
my affection and things I no longer have the chance to say.
Words of passion, anger, and dreams that were swept away.
Melodies of memories I hold, still flow within my broken heart.
I try to console myself with writing you since we've drifted apart,
by recalling your voice as it gently whispered close to my ear.
Utterances that I'll not ever forget because I hold them dear.
Had I only imagined or fantasized that you loved me, too?
No, I knew your heart loved mine before we both vowed, "I do."
I remember the day you took my hand and knelt upon one knee.
"Yes!" I cried, and I saw the desire in your eyes for want of me.
I cannot chase those reveries away. Ones of your lilting laughter,
thinking we'd share that tethered treasure of love forever after.
Love; the greatest of all glorious gifts to each other we could offer,
more priceless than precious gems or coins that would fill a coffer.
You once asked me to write a pensive poem about a fallen star ~
A foreshadowing as I think back now, pondering where you are.
I wonder if you still think of me with the same thoughts I remember
or have you forgotten me as if there's not a spark left in that ember?
Once it burned brightly. I don't want to believe that could be true
for my heart still beats with longing and the yearning want of you.
I will close this letter in these wistful words, "With love, always."
Perhaps not the sentiment that I should fondly offer you these days.
Forgive the stains that have blotched the ink. They're from my tears.
I haven't managed to staunch their flow, even after all these years.
I addressed the envelope to our home, but it matters not one whit
that neither of us still live there. I know it's time that I get over it
but this letter will join the others I keep hidden inside a desk drawer.
Bound with crimson ribbon, written for a love I can no longer implore.
Shakespeare's quill gave Romeo and Juliet a tragic ending
but that's a sad love story I think needs a bit of mending.
Yes, he's the Bard, but quite frankly it broke my heart
to learn they both died needlessly. I hated that part.
In my rewritten dialogue between them, I'd find a way
to change their ill-fated future and have Juliet say,
"Romeo, it's only for you that my heart will ere yearn.
I will simply fake my death and when our families learn
that we've left Verona, we will be married... man and wife
and be together as we have planned, happy with life."
The messenger she sent to give Romeo the good news,
I'd replace with a more diligent one that I would choose.
I'd have made the couple more intelligent and shrewd,
perhaps put an end to the Montague and Capulet feud.
The tale of star-crossed lovers would end on a happy note,
without Juliet seeming to have died. No need for an antidote.
When Juliet says, "Romeo. Romeo. Wherefore art thou?"
He would come to her on the balcony, and he would vow...
"Juliet, I swear, never did my heart love until now.
For I never saw true beauty til this night,
and if perchance our families had forbidden us to wed,
from Verona we would've left. From Italy we would've fled.
With apologies to Shakespeare, my edit I would offer,
not a penny nor one Euro would I take for my coffer.
Indulge me for just a moment for I'm a romantic at heart,
and dared alter the ending by not keeping the couple apart.
The Most High way, Abba Father,
your hands are full, always a-bless,
never ending- your palms of grace.
You are love…ing in a pow-er-ful way!
Hallelujahs forever born.
The light of sun, of color’s mirth.
The apt applause t’ward great I Am.
You are joy-ful, in a pow-er-ful way!
Heart’s rest, presence so calm - your wings
wrap around me, keep me so warm.
Your lullaby - a smile and hug.
You are so peace-ful, in a pow-er-ful way!
Til last minute, you cajoled them.
Ones that made it - happy and free.
Seeds’ elated…none belated.
You are so pa-tient, in a powerful way!
Milk and honey, sweeter the vine.
Filling coffer, eternal goods.
Every breath sets the table.
You are so ki-i-nd, in a pow-er-ful way!
Mercy, forgiveness, of His blood,
His heart a-glow in Father’s glance.
We wear Christ’s righteousness - a gift.
You are so goo-oo-ood, in a pow-er-ful way!
Your eye on our time and our space.
Each hair on our heads, you’ve counted,
and the cost was all worth it, Lord.
You are faith-ful, in a pow-er-ful way!
The palms of your hands were hammered.
Your heart was broken, your crown pierced.
Blood, sweat and tears in flawless pain.
You are gent-le, in a pow-er-ful way!
We are selfish, greedy, flesh-born.
Out for ourselves, but you O Lord
stretched out on the cross, gave your all.
You’re self re-strained, in a pow-er-ful way!
12/2/2022
Now the works of the flesh are obvious…But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.*
Proclaiming the word:
I belong to Jesus Christ.
My flesh is crucified
with its passions and pleasures
I keep in step with the Spirit,
not conceited
not provoking
not envying*
*Galatians 5 CSB
I have a pantry where I keep my blessings,
each one a precious gift.
The daily deliveries never stop,
although I sometimes overlook them.
Some days the shelves seem empty,
but when I find the strength to look again,
I see that they are filled in abundance
waiting to be acknowledged and accepted.
If I open each gift as it comes and
arrange it on my shelves, I see I have
the wealth of love, the warmth of smiles,
And the comfort of grace.
I have opportunities to share these gifts
with those whose coffer is bare.
A humble hug, a warm embrace,
a simple smile of understanding.
If I have food, I share it; if I have drink, I share it;
I have enough, I need not more.
My joy is in sharing that which I have;
my strength is in giving, not taking.
If I hoard my gifts they dry and become stale,
shrivel, and die on the shelf.
If I take out a gift and re-wrap it for another,
my bare shelves overflow with more.
Isn’t is remarkable how one’s daily coffer flows
according to the condition of one’s heart?
What is the turning point when one realizes
that one's blessings are meant to be re-gifted?
What greater act of worship, than to
teach by example and to give unreservedly?
A giving heart is a joyful heart and
strengthens my resolve to keep my pantry full.
We each have highs and lows in life,
and sometimes a rough in-between.
Yet divine awareness and a roll of tape
can change the momentum of our lives.
If you’ll trade me for the one that I want I’ll give this one to you,
Then we can both finally end our hunt and find better things to do.
But if you decide to keep that one and leave me in the lurch,
Then our days of dealing are done and I’ll continue with my search.
Because I know that if I wait long enough I can find another one
And it really shouldn’t be all that tough and a new deal can be done.
It’s all up to you about how to proceed, the ball is in your court,
It all comes down to a matter of need, this deal is your last resort.
So you can take my final offer or put it down and walk away,
I don’t really need to add to my coffer I don’t need this deal today.
Oh you’re not going to take my final deal but it’s the best that I can do,
Well I can certainly see how you feel let me get my manager to talk to you.
My manager can make a deal that’s great and then I’ll be back to close,
In his hands lies my ultimate fate so I’ll just be patient I suppose.
Garage sales used to be a simple event but now they’re cut throat as can be,
A few extra dollars can be heaven sent especially in this economy.
The days are bright when you are near
Even the darkest nights don't generate fear
All I need is a thought about you, even for a little while
You, My dear, are the reason I smile
My mind is rich with memories of you
Your smile, you voice saying what I mean to you
Goading me forward, getting me through
And expressing your love for me, true
We have seen life's ups and downs
Green pastures of joy, and sadness's thorny crowns
But we have overcome every obstacle life had to offer
And gave each other strength from our hearts' coffer
No moment together feels wrong
Even if we dance to somebody else's song
Every song feels as though flowing with rhythm tight
We feel good together; it just feels right
It no more matters if we are together or away
We reside in each other, and that's the way we'll stay
Your love will impart in me, the will to walk every difficult mile
You will always be, the reason I smile
Old Danny who lived on the outskirts of town
in a shack made of iron and very run down,
was tarnished poor sod,
by one man of God,
who when speaking to Danny always put on a frown.
The Parish Priest had what I’d say was a lust,
for he’d tell his congregation that it is a must,
to be generous with offer,
for the church coffer,
and one look at Danny, said he don’t own a crust.
Danny poor soul met the Priest and he cried
while he carried his dog, who once ran by his side,
and now dead as a dodo,
Danny wants to know,
if the Priest could say mass for his old mate who died.
“Good heavens my son!” the Priest looked upon Dan,
“This church only holds service, for woman and man,
but for beasts you may try,
when ever they die,
the new church up the road for an animal plan.”
Dan said, “Thank you father, you’ve been a good scout.
You helping my dog will help its soul no doubt…
for the service they make,
do you think they’ll take,
five thousand dollars, so to help their church out?”
The Priest cleared his throat and his eyes they extend,
then he said, “Wait a minute! Some rules I can bend,
bring your dog and I’ll pray,
for you neglected to say,
that your dog was a Catholic my friend!”
Me’ Fury
Me’ fury, ensue, inasmuch of the bullies; my halo es leaning, me’ grimace is beaming, my hand on the hilt, mahound be at awe, es me’ duty
Sheathe the’ inedible reach, lid thy albinism duress, your forehead me’ claymore to rest, snipe fell manual take topheth, down to the cove shall descend
Coffer, tricely Mankind, pending another one come, donion debar de devil, Lord with the wade, or bis mein Woden o hoard