Best Course Of Action Poems
Can you count the times you’ve crossed me
And divide it by the times you disrespected me
Then multiply that by the times you hurt me
And come up with a figure?
Relatively speaking it’s a simple equation
Resulting in a drastic re-calculation of the outcome.
Can you give me the square root of the problem
That started this whole conundrum in the first place
And tally up the results and give me a statistical
Analysis comparing the amount of times you
Left me wondering why I’m on this earth
Or if I’m not worthy of trust?
I’m sure the answer would be skewed resulting
In the necessity to rethink the control group.
I believe the right course of action would be to
Figure out the base and height of the love triangle
You thought I wouldn’t notice, and in case you didn’t know
It, I’m pretty good at trigonometry.
Cause for me, who came into this problem with
Total devotion and a faithful trust, this doesn’t
Add up.
“Beware the Ides of March,” the seer said to Caesar,
But no one paid him much attention because the seer was a teaser.
Just last week the seer had said, “Beware the rear Cassias,
Whatever it is that he’s been eating has left him awfully gaseous.”
Poor Cassias was so self-conscience that he stopped eating for a week,
It gave him a lean and hungry look that left him anything but meek.
Then the seer said to Brutus, “You need to get out of this joint,
I see that you’re about to get canned unless you show dear Caesar the point.”
“That’s a pretty good idea,” Brutus said, “I think that that’s what we should do,
Both me and Cassias can needle him and some of the other Senators will too.”
But when the seer spoke to Caesar it was hard for the emperor to decide,
What course of action he should take because he didn’t know what was an Ide.
Then people were in awe of the seer’s power and the things that he could see,
They never knew that the things he had said helped to fulfill his own prophesy.
I know your deepest fear, what you dread the most,
Still, your own desire you're preserving as a ghost.
You're guided by your arrogance; on your ego you rely.
Haven't you ever heard, the ego's known to lie?
You play your silly mind games; you think you are so smart,
But all this will ever get you is a sad and lonely heart.
You paint yourself untrustworthy with the antics that you pull.
No one can take you seriously when you're just a load of bull.
You think you are invincible and well above reproach,
But one as flawless as you, no one will dare approach!
You pride yourself with cleverness, while appearing stupid.
With so many attractive traits, there is no need for Cupid!
With all your flawlessness, you need not ever apologise.
One as perfect as you are, you're the apple of many eyes!
But how has this worked for you on that pedestal you sit?
Apparently not too well but you will never to, admit.
The years are flying by and the time is drawing near.
Sooner than you think, you'll have to face the fear
That you dread so much without another chance
To change your course of action and so, your circumstance.
Soon you shall be old and you will be all alone
With not one soul to Love you, except perhaps a crone
To make your life as miserable as you have to others, done;
To reap your Just Rewards, trapped in the web you have spun.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-13 15:26:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
In the beginning there was a lonely word but soon after
there was no room at the meagre hostel for the saviour
Sanguine hopes flash-flooded the sanctuary of hearts
sacrificial blood of Christ awaited to be spilt in vain
Spelt out the message of rusty nails corroding on cross
bones mounted the flesh ready for vanishing memories
Lest we forget Christmas it amounts to summits of wrappers
luxurious gifts opulent indigestion after a vainglorious feast
Reindeer and global delivery services occlude the notion that
taking stock is not about counting presents but reducing the cost
Jesus flashes from i-pads I this and I that please give me more
extra goods additional abundance mince pies and stuffing
Belching and flatulent Tim reaches for his heartburn medication
tastes uppers and downers sniffs white powder on bank cards
His wife smears the makeup she grabbed from under the tree
her new perfume a bountiful offering of disguised scented myrrh
No sense for frank frankinsence as she sniffs expensive fragrances
from benefaction bottle’s decadence and reduces benediction to myth
Gift wrap explodes from the fireplace in the mix of unopened packets
just after Father Christmas has made a lucky escape from the scene
Arson of gluttony self-inflicted suffering self-immolation of sorts
sorts out this unholy communion followed by smouldering mourning
The insurance company refuses to pay as they insist that the couple
had backed the wrong course of action in vile contempt of true faith
They however donate a beautiful bible of careful calligraphy
with gilded ornamentation bound in leather and lather of time
There are no walls standing for wailing when Tim and his spouse
and it remains to be seen whether they might find a mangled manger
To resume business as usual or take refuge in meaning and truth
when the word in the beginning had become a sorry blank canvas
18th November 2018
Contest Christmas Mourning
Sponsor P.S. AWTRY
Take care, for what you plant
will later be your harvest
Sweet or bitter, it's your choice my friend
Cast not forth seeds of anger
nor bitterness nor fear
The fruit of such is poison in the end
Tread lightly as you pass
let every step be measured
where good seed may have earlier been sown
Lest in a careless way
you trample someone's garden
and kill the goodly crop that might have grown
May everything you do
and all the words you speak
build up and nurture everyone you meet
When harvest time arrives
the reaping will be joyful
and the fruit thereof so full and bright and sweet
If you would change the world
for better in the long run
begin by making changes in yourself
Wait not for all the others
to take this course of action
Leave all of your excuses on the shelf
Take up your seed and walk
and start your garden planting
sowing it in love along the way
And bountiful will be
the fruits of your hard labor
growing ever sweeter every day
The empty space you left in my life
Is still unattended
The time I have on my hands
Due to your absence
I am using it to think
Drawing conclusions
As to why I am here thinking at all
What have I done?
What didn't I do?
Lack of answers brings about
A whole another set of questions
And unending thinking
This is the best way I can explain my sleepless nights
Lately the house seems bigger but also smaller
I've noticed the ceiling creeping up on me
Lower each day, leaving me feeling claustrophobic
I've adopted the habit of taking deep breaths
To avoid suffocating on having lost you
Missing you as much as I love you
Dealing with the strength of both emotions
Fighting my feelings, fighting myself
Trying to accept your course of action
Because it is what it is
It's you who walked out
And as the days pass
Sadness turns to anger
And I take it out on everything
That reminds me of you
Your pictures, your clothes, your shoes
I stopped looking after your plants
There they are, there, dying of loneliness
If you won't come back then they should die
I don't want anyone to believe I am hoping
You'll come back
I don't want to wait, so my feelings should die
Together with your plants
Starving like my heart
I'm no fool for love
Missing you will pass as I learn to think you less
The sun will shine for me tomorrow,
Can't say the same for your plants though
The Loving Guilty
Make this choice
End up making another choice
And still feel guilty
About the two
Guilt exists no matter what we do
For the compassionate
Guilt
Is a multi edged knife
No one leads a guiltless life
Faced with decision
Some other outcome
Always is
For someone
A cause of guilt
And we can be guilty
Of not wanting to lead
Or facing the guilt
Of a guilty life
To do one course of action it seems we must
It is impossible to choose
None
For no action has its own reaction
In guilt
All life is guilty
Of making a choice
Between foreseen and unforeseen consequence
Leave one in sorrow
Leave one in happiness
Live one in sorrow
Live one in happiness
Both have their hands tightly clenched
On guilt
Guilt is a wish for perfection
For a perfect solution
Amidst the imperfect forces of choices
We are confronted with
Guilt can be seen in a life un-lived
Or a wasted life that gave up on love
It can be a life so scandalously lived
Or one that fed too much on love
And guilt is the dungeon of every dream
Guilt is the squandered wishing-wells penny
With too much compassion
Your heart can freeze
And then
Guilty
For never having lived
At all
Guilt is a poor appeasement of conscience
That leaves you immobile
Make this choice
End up making another choice
And still feel guilty
About the two
Guilt exists no matter what we do
It is perhaps a great tribute to mankind
That it has to choose between loving
Made guilty
By the necessity of choice
There is no perfect solution
And someone is always going to get hurt
What do we do, what do we choose
Between guilt’s
This course of least resistance
Guilty then
For not having followed
Your heart
I guess when memories of the past,
never seem to fade or pass,
we find ourselves left walking ,
down a long and lonely road.
You know each step, which we take
is another candle on the cake,
as the years become minutes in a day.
The quicker they seem to pass us by,
the more clouds we see in the sky,
reminding us of someone we once loved.
I never dreamed I would be 23,
now I’m 50 and look at me,
happy as a wrangler riding on a horse.
It appears I have survived it all,
every brick in every wall,
regardless of the trials and the test.
In the end what matters most,
we never let our pride become the host,
we must forever see the errors in our ways.
To forgive doesn’t mean we forget,
it simply means we regret,
the course of action we were forced to take.
Me, I’ve made all of my amends,
apologized to enemy’s as well as friends,
not to mention all of ladies I once loved.
Even to those who broke my heart,
those who tore it into little parts,
over things, which I would never do.
I ask them all and I’m forgiven,
now I’m free to continue living,
this life the Lord has planned for me.
Trust me friends these words are true,
to be forgiven for what you didn’t do,
truly is a feeling, which stands all by itself.
In the end, I guess it matters not,
who’s forgiven and who forgot,
that right and wrong is a two way street.
I reckon that’s all I have to say,
for those I love I shall forever pray,
they never find themselves walking,
down a long and lonely road.
It isn’t the toil
but drive,
that wears down a man.
Abilities and choices
are infinite,
but where is time
when duties are many.
Man is a slave
to his freedom of choice.
Unable to commit
freedom masters him,
assigns the lot,
prescribes course of action
and makes his fate.
All men are free,
but they put on shackles themselves
and cry out against tyranny.
Defeating own self
man invents demons and evil
to sacrifice a goat that hasn’t escaped.
Restless pursuit of freedom
tires a man down into slavery.
Freedom becomes a dream
men awake cannot see.
The Possum of Possibilities was invited by Grandpa Troll to visit our brood,
The Possum heard Carol had a dry spell and a terrible writer’s block, so true.
With the troll’s adventures, penguin’s antics, and witches brew...
With Dragon’s mayhem in town, something had to be done, they knew.
Grandpa Troll brought Possum over, for Carol to peruse,
He looked her up, down, and sideways to everyone’s amuse,
Her mind’s wheels were not lined up right, he announced.
You have activity all about you, that's very pronounced.
It is all swirling around and not latching to the cogs.
Ideas and stories are coming in fast and plenty, but…
There are so many and they are acting like a stream of logs,
Her brain is overloaded and getting a little bit clogged.
Possum instructed Grandpa Troll on the best course of action,
But Dragon was nearby and overheard the conversation.
Our fiery friend was planning on how to clear the brain jam,
Then ski-daddle and go on the lam.
Like so many plans before, he knew Carol’s brain was crammed,
And his ideas always ended up like some explosive spam.
Grandpa Troll saw that look in Dragon’s eyes and knew there was a plot,
And said to Possum; “We'll need your help again, before we’re in a spot.”
Over to Dragon Possum went, then a once over, right, left, and top to bottom,
Grandpa Troll reached into a dusty drawer that hadn’t seen light since Suttom.
Out he pulled two pens, one larger than the other, filled with magic ink.
An incantation filled the air – “E pluribus divideous writeous inlink.”
(Basically saying; what stories were divided are now joined by two writers.)
Possum handed one to Carol and the larger one to Dragon.
“With the magic pens, you both will be able to see the stories about you.”
For Carol, he pointed out; now the cogs won't get dinked, as ideas get linked,
And Dragon, a source of the jams, once written down, became happy as a clam.
Both help each other, now, as Grandpa Troll had hoped with all the activities.
And with a little help from an old friend, called the Possum of Possibilities.
A writer’s block that was going on with his dear...
Is a tale that Hubby has now told, and made so clear.
And now another peaceful evening… was suddenly shot all to Heck...
Until Next time…. As Dragon and Carol are now racing all about!
Michael Eastman & Carol Written 7-21-2015
Holding your hands in mine
Hoping you won't let go
After what I tell you..
Before we begin,
There's something I want you to know.
You're number 21.
I walked to your house that morning.
You sprinted clumsily to the door.
We helped each other cook breakfast
And ate until we could eat no more.
But I've had mornings like this before.
You're number 21.
We walked downtown in the sunlight.
Another perfect-weathered afternoon.
Brought a few friends, caffeinated and different,
But you and I are obviously in tune.
Do not assume too much too soon.
You're number 21.
The evening comes too quickly.
And now we're completely alone.
Talking of things, humorous, sweet, musical.
Our thoughts and feelings in a cyclone.
Trying not to use a romantic tone.
You're number 21.
I've done it before and seen it all.
I don't want you to think you're the first.
So many girls and so many times,
This whole course of action feels rehearsed.
But none have done better at quenching my thirst.
You're number 21.
Perhaps you are more than just a number,
From bland statistic to complex equation.
The substance in your simplicity intrigues me.
My eyes are now open to the realization.
Quite the unexpected sensation.
You're number 21.
There's nothing wrong with the way you're designed.
Compared to the previous, you are the most fun.
Regrets would bring insanity if left unsigned.
Perhaps my search for numbers is done.
You just might be the one.
You're number 21.
quintella (Spanish quintain) in pentameter
Hard-working spider, you do your part,
instinctive busy spider that thou art.
You speak without doubt as you weave your web.
It is we humankind that tend to ebb
and surge, trying to balance mind and heart.
One day man, I'm down, oh my restless soul.
On rising up, how can I dare extol
a friend or employer on a mere whim;
then the very next day dishonor him
by rank conduct that is out of control?
Consistency is a course of action,
a gift that structures one’s reputation.
It is ripe fruit of making wise choices;
it is prudent forethought which rejoices
beyond just making a good impression.
Yes, speak if you wish of what you believe;
AND watch what you do, lest you should deceive
by your performance that which you profess.
Would spiders agree - caprice creates stress?
A web of whimsy is not worth the weave.
written 30 March 2016
“The Legendary Adventure Moments of Doctor Hermione Baggins the Reddish of Winterhold, The Master Sith Rainbow Lord Lulu Pucca, Cloud Kitty Carla Chandra the Ruby Rose, and Rand O'From Equestria the Darken Raw Snow vs The Strange A.A. or Perhaps B.S. Educated Scotties Homer Pilgrim’s Search for More Resources by Destroying the Galaxy to Make Way for a Interstellar Lightspeed Railway or Was It a Fishing Pond?”
Apathetic the game will continue on anyway
“Bidet,” a person points, "first door on the right in the hallway"
Celtic orchestrated melody commences to play
Drastic the GM in a serious voice proceeds to convey
“Exotic treasures will be rewarded at the story's endplay
Frederick and Scotty have threatened to destroy the floodway
Galactic dragons will soon have control of the realms gateway
Heretic man wearing the scarlet hand is on the highway
Icteric smiles seeing the party ‘do you have an issue?’”
“Judgematic paladin, what course of action will you do?”
“Kinesthetic, I'll flash step next to him and use my kung fu”
Laconic, looking over at the monk, “not your turn Lulu”
"Majestic I promenade over and address this mildew"
Novelistic I say, ‘the dragons, and mage, I must melee’”
“Optimistic the NPC rolls a 16 and tries to outplay
Panic soon kicks in as the druid and monk cross the pathway”
Quadraphonic sounds play as the initiative ensues
"Rollick, the monk and I go over, but I just rolled a two”
“Slapstick the heretic encounters the paladin’s swordplay
Tragic it's late and we must stop the story right here today
Unpoetic I know but we'll pick up again next Wednesday"
Updated 5/14/2019
Paul said to press on forward
Towards the heavenly prize
For if we run the Christian race
We will come to realize
That in spite of the prisons in our lives
Keeping us in mental and physical chains
With faith in God our course of action
Will no longer be tethered not restrained
We might need a spiritual upgrade
To function at full capacity
And every new day we need to freshly pray
With a renewed tranquility
Now some people say they don't have enough time
But time is a tangible commodity
We need to learn to structure our time
Using our Christian agility
It's most essential we put God first
And always remember the grace
And mercy that on us He's bestowed
For no man nor woman on this earth
Has the power to help you spiritually grow
When running the Christian race
We need to understand
That if we want to make God laugh
Just come up with a plan
As God has a destiny for each of us
One full of humility and grace
And in spite of the circumstances in our lives
He'll help us run this race
By looking at the Lord and not at the load
By keeping our eyes on God and not on the road
So run the good race with encouragement
From the Holy Spirit anew
And with Jesus as the wind beneath our wings
There's nothing we can't do
So press on forward looking through
The windshields of life
No longer using the rearview mirror
Just laser focused on Christ
Choosing a course of action that you have
Options may be abound but are they right
Making the right decission should be easy
Maybe you should just stop to think about
Once you take that course of action do you
Need to think it through before you take it
Some people take actions without thinking
Even when they know that's the wrong one
Never stopping to realise the consequence
Sometime people actually lives to regret it
Every actions will always have reactions to