Best Due Poems
Frail humans we are and mistakes are made,
but there will be a time to pay
for pain inflicted on others.
Run swiftly from dark clouds hovering above,
baggage like an albatross around our necks --
cast it aside.
Commit to offering kind words,
compassion to all,
bestowing brotherly love.
Make amends when possible
for harmful acts, even negative thoughts,
and promote harmony.
When we stand at heaven’s gate,
we’ll not be asked about material possessions,
but how much love we gave.
The prince and the pauper
will be judged as equals
when the tab comes due.
*Entry for Paula’s “How Due You Dew” contest
Written September 8, 2011
The dear old pastor had occupied the same pulpit for years and years;
He preached fire, damnation and The Hereafter scorching his congregants ears!
He had baptized hordes of kids and officiated when they married,
And comforted many mourning souls when their loved-ones were buried!
He suffered through stormy sessions at the monthly meetings of The Board,
And withstood the bickering of sisters of The Women's Guild, utterly bored!
Some of his flock were as stubborn as army mules and were quite contrary!
He faced challenging situations that they didn't teach about in seminary!
He confided with his long-suffering wife proclaiming, "This is the pits!"
And after serving the Lord nigh on thirty years he decided to call it quits.
He advised The Board that he was retiring due to health issues, you see.
(Truth was, he quipped, "I was sick of them and they were sick of me!")
The moon had held a wickedness
So unlike many of night I've seen
Embraced in an eerie listessness
While projecting an ominous scene
This night a warriors life was lost
One who unselfishly fought for all
She'd pay no matter what the cost
Her battles she picked, was her call
See it wasn't by beast's razor claw
She was too wise for them you see
Warriors hold at least one fatal flaw
One taking her life setting her free
It was much like an evil deception
One thing she was unprepared for
Like every rule held an exception
This one cut deep to her very core
The downfall of so many it seems
Struck down by the blade of a love
Laying there her blood did stream
Had to rise was all she thought of
High above that love raised his sword
With a swoop drove it deep in her heart
Her eyes stared at the one she adored
He broke her soul, that's the worst part
Her story will live on for the good done
How what a brave soul she held so true
Yet she knew for all the battles she won
Brought her even closer to her final due
The wolves awake; beware the great deception.
The vampires' conjugate conception.
Witches gather with their brew,
Tyrants in their coup.
Surrender-
Due!
Pretender…
Cunning treasons thru,
Edict illusions will spew.
Ignominious of inception,
The wolves awake; beware the great deception.
July.12.2020
Andaree
Sponsored by~Joseph May
Placed 1'st...Thank You
The chord wrapped around his neck
As he was unwilling to pay the penalty of the law
Why should he bow his knee to derelicts
When he had preached against the sin of the fall
She came in looking all cute and coy
She's a girl, I'm a boy...a very little boy
We'll play a game in secret and feel connected
I'll tell her life will be destroyed if "IT" is unprotected
What a wonderful WORD to deliver to the hopeless
Spiritual leadership has the highest protection
When the flesh ROARS at little girls and boys
They cover "the fall" from open detection
Denial is a weapon against ignorant liars
Rushing around, stirring up blazing fires
The institution must survive all attacks
Lest our deceptive nation show what it lacks
......TRUTH.....
For those who are called to walk in LOVE
Caesar's due must be paid, first
Drunkards, Harlots, Murderers and Thieves
In prison, while predators give drink to those who thirst
But the one who bore all the guilt and shame
Hung on a Cross, innocent, without blame
Humility will come, unbidden, without recourse
The heart will submit or harden without remorse
....in the balance....
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-28-2024
haze of pain automatically falls upon mind
when dissatisfaction condensed in to sorrow
continuity ignites misunderstanding
drifts to non liquid fire anger’s burrow
after a limit passes by digging inner creek
swells up with fierce heat of the stored anger
at that time burns destroys all good thoughts
without due care life remains in danger
Water, as most of you will know,
has the chemical formula H2O.
Now this essential liquid is, as well,
in its natural form, devoid of smell,
and also in its pure state,
it's clear and clean and really great,
for keeping living things alive,
as without it nothing can survive.
Yes it really is such magic stuff,
because without it things are really tough,
and it often makes me stop and think.
each time I pour myself a drink.
What would I do if it all dried up?
Turn on the tap, but an empty cup!
Nothing from the pipes emanating,
panic, as I'm not used to waiting.
This is not how it is for me,
I live where rain falls frequently,
and I can drink, shower and bathe too,
as often as I'm wanting to.
But in other parts it rains only rarely,
and people there, well they can barely,
find enough water for their needs,
to drink, to wash, to nurture seeds.
For them life is infinitely harder,
they've learned to live with an empty larder,
and simple hygiene is so hard to achieve,
when the detritus of living, they have to leave,
lying, rotting, stinking on the surface all around,
polluting any water source in the ground.
Because of the extreme poverty of these 'others',
on my TV screen I have seen the faces of the mothers,
whose children died because there has never been
access to water which is drinkable and clean.
Yes, something that we take for granted,
because we were born, where we were planted!
There was a rich lawyer of McNaught
Who overcharged his clients a lot.
His bank account soared
As their welfare he ignored.
Now he’s gone to hell in a 40-foot yacht.
All is not well
In this kibbutz
Distant thunder
Suffers, pardons
Armour crumbles
In this temple
Does the keeper's
Soul surrender?
Aren't the roots here
In this dark soil
Drinking like some
Suckers should?
And we will stay
In this dim light
Dragging echoes
Somewhere else
Aiming blame
In others' corners
Dowsing these flames
So we can breathe
And the wonder
In our slumber
Dregs our blood
So sick, so sick
In Judaism, at 13,
A boy becomes a man
With Torah* reading and a party;
That’s the standard plan.
But Yisrael Kristal missed his chance -
The war got in the way –
And then 100 years passed by –
He’s 113 today!
The oldest living male, they say,
Surviving Hitler’s reign,
Though something made him rise above
His Auschwitz grief and pain.
So finally, he’ll take his place
When he will now recite,
A century past due, the prayers
For his Bar Mitzvah** rite.
This story is amazing and
Quite touching, even though,
It’s obvious that he became
A man quite long ago.
*holy book written on a scroll
**the ceremony at which a boy becomes a man
IN DUE RESPECT (MY DUE RECOGNITION)
I am not that to my poetry.
We are.
But the thing is, we are not.
You are with me in spirit when I write.
I know this well because we speak into my mental environment.
When I publish my compiled poems in a poetry book, I am not the best seller being marketed.
How is this when you know the poems as I am writing them.
I am asked by my publisher will I use their tools to promote my manuscripts.
I did once and no one pay attention.
Does it make sense when the world knows who I am?
I tell you it is just a waste of money and I am, therefore, being scammed.
Moving mountains is what I do well as Andra Day sings.
Precarious times and perils of the world manifest the truth in that I write about life and things I have witnessed to.
Don’t I suppose to get recognition for writing so good?
Additionally, is it right when the Soup ignores my poetry?
They do not put me on the list of “Best New Poems” popularity.
Yet, I have my audience and I am read just as much as everyone else.
Thus far, I must let the Soup know that this list is incorrect.
Mountains I do not shy from.
I am to climb to overcome.
No reasons to be dissuaded by a lack of recognition.
My poetry is to be written.
It heals the troubled soul soothing the thoughts that ponders.
Political activism for the universe of people humanitarianly bonded.
I am a Poet and Philosopher growing stronger.
_____________________________________________________________|
Written July 29, 2016!
The search for a due date never stops
I seem to have lived in the shadow of my existence
Tell me when the apocalypse will be, and I will set my watch
Seeking and stumbling in vein
I want answers!
I may know when my first breath was drawn
But when will be my last!?
When the winds of opportunity blow in my favor
I pray for an extension of the deadline
And sometimes
When adversity stalks me and troubles beset me
I feel incarcerated here
Sometimes I've wanted to up and leave this place
Some people actually have
Uncertainty befalls me
The faith I have is shaken
And the 6 o'clock news takes what's left
Who will stand unchanged by the tide of rumor?
Can't my heart just beat inside the moments that I have?!
What life is it at all, to be afraid to die?
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Who says chocolate fondue
Makes the perfect rendez-vous?
Here’s a secret: you can meet
For a cheese fondue retreat
Which will make your life complete!
Rub a fondue pot with garlic
Add some white wine and some brandy
When it simmers stir the cheese-
Swiss or Gruyere- as you please.
Lemon juice, a bit of mustard
‘Till it simply looks like custard.
You can serve it with French bread
Or skimmed apples- green or red,
Or speared broccolis instead.
Be creative, just make do
And indulge in your fun-due!
Heaven!
Like when you raise a ship and be the first to feel its butt
You can so be the victim of the beast you took from huts
You’ve smiled, made love from time you flirted
But now the eyes are open; he'll start t hurt
Hurt you
Hurt your feelings
What you've been through
Hurt your spirit
Destroy your living
Shatter your life and everything that has a meaning
This is the meaning of good did in the world we live in
Grown men stand for what they believe in
Not walk along blinded by their feelings
Love is the ****, the bone to cause all this killings
Life is a stinking pit in which we swimming
So don’t be surprised of the stinking' **** you see happening'
So don’t catch a piteous glance when others are drowning'
Life’s that thing
life's anything but a golden casket
Though it's a thing
Here's to Elisha Graves Otis that stupendous innovator,
Who gave us all a lift in life by inventing the elevator.
Due to Elisha's creative skill and general know-how,
The ups and downs of life we can truly experience now!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved