Best Defense Poems
While the guardian of night watches
a looming thunderstorm , the power
of his animus defends earthy home
and a village’s turf with grit… and in
the stillness of a child or wife’s rest,
when twitching snaps of a labor’s chime
rings out, this protector aches for respect
and admiration to forge ahead into
gateways of Olympian struggles;
molded like so by creation’s decree.
Though labeled as a dominant ruler ,
it is his gentle side that comforts
all: lending a compassionate hand,
affirming a woman’s essence, and thirsting
to reveal human frailties without question.
Knowingly ,the peg behind the guardian of nights
is home's queen, fueling a determined will
and affectionate spirit by validating his
man’s untiring role…without question.
7/8/2015
Patriarchy Contest
Sponsor: Thomas Martin
They call me a sin for the crime of naps
While greed parades as ambition ornate
In this ruthlessly rushing world, perhaps
It is patience we should appreciate
7/10/22
Sin of Sloth contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
How else to tell you
of the movement of
the universe that sets my world to tilt?
Where spatial acuity and intuitive thinking fall down
and weep
at the feet of blank spaces and odd numbers begging
direction
I scratch for description of the structure of blue ink
on pulp paper . . .
the humidity of black seas on windless nights,
the way my lips sometimes speak
in dry dust
For the latitude of line and length, the way I like
how they intersect, conjoin,
tear apart . . . forever changed
yet spent
of further locution
And still I dream
I can hear the world
running out of time and tolerance for
small words
. . . for small minds ~
The measure of meter and moments
sit in whimpering, drying ink
falling off the edge of sense and
sensibility
How else to tell
you
who cannot hear?
I have a secret, I cannot let you know.
I’m sorry I lied; I DON’T want you to go.
Those cruel words, were not how I feel,
just a defense, to forget what was real.
Portraying I’m strong, with a will to thrive,
yet without you I’m lost, I don’t feel alive.
Words hurt worse, than punches thrown.
I’m out of control, in this viscous cyclone.
So many times, you let me off the hook,
for my malicious outbursts and nasty looks.
I’ve used my disease as an excuse to abuse.
Flying amidst this mania, recourse I refuse.
The patience you bear, is reflective enough,
as is your wisdom, still my heart is so rough.
I want to open up and bear my entire soul,
I’m afraid all you’ll see is a shallow, empty hole.
I know it was never you that gave up on us,
it was this woman you married, me in disgust.
If I could repair my mind and fix the wrongs,
I’d say you’re at home, where you belong.
But we both know the truth, I’m a lost cause.
I prey on your weaknesses and all your flaws.
I’ll take full responsibility for all that I am…….
And remember our love, was my biggest sham….
Head in the Heavens
Feet planted on Earth
Jacob, renamed Israel
Mocked for his birth
Mislabeled 'The Supplanter'
Though Esau tricked him
Pushed his twin brother aside
Emerging first-born with a grin
Then the imposter Esau
Sold his birthright for a little food
His hands bloody from hunting
Wild with fury, his mood
On the same very day
Righteous Grandfather Abraham died
But Esau could have cared less
Not one tear did he cry
His own mother knew Esau was evil
She'd grown up with the vile Laban and Besu'el
Rebecca proudly stood up for what was right
For her son Jacob only would she fight
Jacob dwelled in tents, a man of the book
His mother helped him deal with Esau the crook
Who deceived father Isaac 'til his dying day
And wanted to murder Jacob in the worst of ways
Far too many still think that Jacob was wrong
To 'steal' the birthright ~ that he deserved all along
If Housman lived today and spoke of Terrance,
would rhyme and structure be his "stupid stuff?"
If he could wax poetic now,
what would it be that killed the cow?
Can image and the music be enough?
Were you to walk a wood some snowy eve,
a painting in your head by Robert Frost,
revise and take the liberty;
set his restrictive musing free,
how much of the meaning would be lost?
Paintings by Monnet can fill the senses;
a quiet Redlin sunset can delight.
Even though it's fairly certain
Monnet's colors match the curtain,
does either painter have it wrong, or right?
People turn their nose up...
and shew them away...
they think they are pests...
and have them taken away.
But how did this happen?...
now labeled as strays...
you may not like what I'm next gonna say.
The story began with a human of course.
They couldn't decide between a cat or a horse.
So they first tried a cat...
but it caused too much distraction...
so it got thrown out with no hint of attachment.
They next thought of trying a big spotted horse...
they tried for a week...then with no remorse... they gave this old horse
to a cold...scary place...
that's all that I'm really willing to say.
They next tried the dog...
which they chained to a fence...
yet nobody came to this poor dogs defense.
He had gotten so thin...
he slipped out of his chain...
running away in the dark and the rain.
He was so hungry...he dug in the trash...
where he found a cat...
who just had her babies in a pile of that same trash.
So you see these strays started out as some humans pet...
then for what ever reason...they were tossed out.
Would they have done this to us?...
I highly doubt.
So show some compassion...they've been through enough...
It wasn't their choice....so please hear their voice.
P.R.Deremer
"Unlawful attacked
Provoked him to kill and rush
Imprisonment reigned".
“You love him so much, you're too blind to see
He's only playing a game
He's never loved you, he never will
And darling, don't you know he' ll never change?” Elvis Presley - It Hurts Me
I do not expect you to love him as I do,
Seeing from the outside as you should
With a fresh mind, clear from the lies,
Logic dominating what you see as senselessness
I am pained by every weakness you recite
Against his fragile, inelastic soul,
How painful it should be to take away his control
Over the last thing he claims as his:
I
You rest assured I will be broken in the end
True might it be, cease not to wait in worry
I break in the talons fully aware of his ire,
His need to devour this swaying flower
I can hear the cynical thoughts already,
Stretching for the race to my heart,
Comforting me in coos,
Dreading the moment I turn to fools
Your eager heart comforts me little as I replenish
This space I request is lost in your lectures
Your eyes that have once burned with anger,
Are relieved with validation of your foreshadows
Do not rest your hands on my back,
As I crumple over, my eyes trailing his departure
Do not comfort me with those “I-told-you-so” touches
I know it—I have always,
And with your logic,
You cannot even dream to comprehend
The true density of this reality
DELIGHTFUL DEFENSE
my girl talked too much
so I kissed her ruby lips
the silence was grand
………………………………………………
This Haiku was inspired by the great old, depression-day, chuckle – “She wouldn’t kiss me in
the canoe, so I paddled her back.”
I have heard people declaim
That Africa is the dark continent
Plagued by war, sickness and famine
The aridity of such a claim
Has left my people to pine.
Yes, I grant through the years,
Africa has suffered from war, famine, and sickness.
Yet, dear reader, is it Africa alone?
From East to West,
Death has reared himself a throne.
I beseech thee, O reader, let thy ear be attentive
To the confessions of Robin.
For these declamations
Have led many into error.
It is not my intention
To absolve Africa of her share of the blame
Yet my beloved continent,
Is both home to the good and the bad
The best and the worst
Why then dwell only, on all that is base.
Lineal son of Africa that I am
My heart bleeds -
Seeing that the soothsayers and naysayers
Are moving among our villages and cities
Congesting our airwaves
Shamefully declaring
That the Ides of March have come
Unlike Caesar, I dare - reply that they haven’t come and will never come!
For mine experiences have taught me a lot of things
And I dare you to discard that label hoary
Coined many and many years ago by many a missionary.
Allow me then to tell you Africa’s story
For that is my sole ambition.
Of her past glory
I will say no more
For the pyramids of Egypt will testify for eternity
The Great Zimbabwe Ruins
Stand tall and erect in the Savannah plains
A monument to the greatness of their builders
Don’t you dare believe that fable
Told to many a school boy in colonial Africa days gone by
That mine ancestors could not create such a piece of art
Just go to my village this day
And you will see many stonehouses standing
A testimony to our heritage.
Her natural beauty is second to none
Heaven, excluded - for I am talking to men not angels.
Since I am weary
Let me tarry. God willing will continue tomorrow!
Not everyone can live life in the “intense” mode
It taxes their emotions, and that they cannot bode
They want to be laid back and take things in their stride
So they tuck away their hearts and then run and hide
Intense people are a drain of time and energy
But if you want to see intense, take a look at me
Moments in life with emotions and thoughts are laced
Intensity kisses time, makes it sweetly paced
Sometimes my intensity…can be quite "INTENSE"
Embodiment of passion: woman with no "sense"
But look at it this way, and then you’ll get it right
Passion should be intense, anytime day or night
Think of it and imagine… that long scorching kiss
When you are pleasured, intensity you’ll not miss
Think of how you’re wanted with intense desire
Intensity makes eternal flames from fire
Intensity of thought will make you feel profound
It’s what will make you soar high...up above the ground
Intensity gives meaning to moments in time
Makes you intensely long to live in the sublime
Intense adoration will be a nat’ral thing
Love will be intense and fulfillment it will bring
Intense caressing: love making to the extreme
Desire drenched in real life and not just a dream
Intense, intense, a curse or is it a blessing sweet?
Well, I guess you’ll never know, until Eileen you meet! ;)
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Reform school is where he spent most of his childhood.
From there he went to prison for the bulk of his adulthood.
Paranoid Schizophrenia is the medical diagnosis of Charles Manson.
I'm sure he displayed many symptoms of this disorder while he was in prison.
When he was informed of his upcoming prison release,
he literally begged prison officials as he fell down to his knees,
"This is the only life that I know. Please don't make me go."
"I'll die out there, " he pleaded with tears in his eyes.
"Please listen to me. I'm telling you truthfully. If you send me out there I'll never survive."
Which brings me to think, who is truly the guilty party of the Tate-La Bianca murders?
Had prison officials taken him seriously, when he pleaded on his knees NOT to be released,
the Tate-La Bianca tragedy most certainly would have never occurred.
Behold the enemy before our gates
Who deign to slit our throats like sheep this day.
The time has come; our destiny awaits.
We kill or die. There is no other way.
Beside us stand our wives and family
Whose fate, along with ours, is joined as one.
For if we falter, they will never see
Again, the rising of another sun.
The trumpet sounds, we stand as one to fight;
With thrust of spear and pike, with steel and stone,
With sweep of sword and taut-strung arrow’s flight
Our foes shall reap the evil they have sown.
E’en unto death, give all you have to give,
Yet do not fight to die, but fight to live.
September 22, 2020