Best Girt Poems
Sarina bought a hula-hula skirt
Was so long it swept up the garden dirt
When she mowed the lawn
Her hula was shorn
Now poor Sarina is known as Flirt Girt.
So deep in sin, I turned away
The skies above were darkest Grey
Then I repent on bended knee
And Jesus Christ delivered me
A rainbow shone, the clouds rolled back
He set my feet on the right track
I'll forgive for he forgave me
And Jesus Christ delivered me
Then, lo, one day again I fell
An open door to evil hell
Truth of this He made me to see
And Jesus Christ delivered me
Don't get comfortable with sin
You are welcoming devils in
Obeying Thy God gives you a key
And Jesus can deliver thee
Salvation from death we obtain
But open doors let in the rain
So, light of God you cannot see
But Jesus can deliver thee
All power and strength, there's no shame
When you cry out in Jesus name
Resist the devil, he must flee
Jesus, the Lord delivers me
Ephesians six will document
The armor of God, it's intent
Wear it for the whole world to see
How Jesus can deliver thee
The helmet of His salvation
The first step in this race we run
Protection from Satan's deceit
Yes Jesus will deliver thee
When all my sins I do confess
I'm covered in his righteousness
Sinless Christ nailed them to the tree
None but He could deliver me
No shin guards, flexibility
So we can pray on bended knee
Humble ourselves unto the King
The King of Kings deliver thee
A hunger for the word of God
With the gospel my feet are shod
I'll be prepared to preach God's peace
So Jesus can deliver thee
With truth My loins are girt about
All life flows from the river's mouth
The truth will set me free indeed
And Jesus Christ delivered me
Take up the shield of ancient faith
Trust in the promises God saith
Satan's darts of fire miss me
Each time Jesus delivers me
The Bible is a two edged sword
Father will always keep his word
I draw it shining, from it's sheath
This Word made flesh deliver thee
MY HEART IN YOUR HOMELAND
Cupid must have been busy he forgot my heart,
And so instead of a man I've fallen in love,
it is in the mountain ranges my eyes dart.
Sweet, the giddy puffy white clouds above
outstretch his arms to share a shady luff
amongst swarming emerald Spruce that skirt
'round the silky slopes-- like some gloves.
Down quiet is the Loch that stretches its girt
of lucidity allowing passerby's to see pert
Salmon and Trout dancing playfully below,
Delighting both my eyes and so my smart,
a fishing rod, I want to slowly low.
This nature's wonder, I behold for free
soon, I surely want to share with my honeybee.
Some bumpy, some smooth are the long winding roads
One day along my ride, I say hello to this Adonis man
Easy as one, two and three our talks-- climb and flowed
Excluded in my plan, wow! Our love story began...
Cascading soft and longer is our attention span
so velvet then is the glowing blow of our said hello.
No longer, I desire Japan but be home in your land
as to the World's theatre we want to show,
our love like barley seed it sprouted and it grow!
Bright yellow bloom it is while us, a fever red
of fruitful trust and hopeful tomorrows. . .
May we never bleed then later be shred,
instead, like the Spruce wrap 'round the slopes
together we will hold hands to boldly cope and lope.
_____________________________________________________________
©O. E. Guillermo
10:31 pm, January 19, 2015
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Ta pime yaah ta pimi yaah bam
Tears drip from the face of the weeping drum.
The drum the drum the drum
Screaming and shouting
Crackling and rackling
Dispelling a mighty woeful sound.
Ica mama ica mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Thousand of them pouring in the street
Following the sorrowful and painful drum beat
amba picka amba picka amaba pika bam
Girt up your waist and run
Ban your belly and come
Weeping and wailing flooding the street
Mournful singers and dancers entertaining in grief
While traditional women light thousand of candles
To feed the souls and expel the dark forces of the devil.
Ah namba ramba tata ramba tata bam
Emotions run high, increasing tension in the sky
Filling hearts with burden too heavy to bear
Causing them to rent their garment in despair.
lingo bam bam lingo bam
bam lingo bam bam lingo bam
The sound grew louder and louder
Waking everyone out of their agonizing slumber
And forcing them to congregate in village, cities and towns.
They beat the drums all night, and marched around the city wall
Blowing horns, chanting despondent words that it might fall.
Beat the drum brother man
Round up the youths to join the band
Sound the drum a little louder
March into the devils territory
And trample Lucifer under your feet.
Beat the drum brother man
Beat the drum and sing a victory song
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Beat the drums brother man
Beat the drum for Mr. Steve and drag him into the circle
Ica mama ica, mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Expel the tormenting spirit of that relentless destructive devil.
Rata tata rata tata bam.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Here they are standing aloof on the backside of town
Here they are sitting on the bare, stricken ground
with strange smells filtering all around.
Smells that fill the atmosphere with an awful stench.
disgusting smells, horrible smells coalesce with
burning incense and perfume to conceal the terrible odor.
Here they are with their self made army
sipping a bottle of dry whiskey
weapon in hand trousers girt tight
ready and waiting to fight.
This night the north wind blows furiously through villages and
towns, tearing down barricade, overturning powerful trees
sending derbies flying as far as six feet in the air.
They stood and watch from a mutual spot
occasionally running for cover each time
the wind gets close to their border.
They waited anxiously for this night to cease but
the turbulence agitated them and kept them on their feet.
I saw them pacing back and forth unable to bare the
cold that penetrated their intoxicated soul.
Amidst the raging wind I obtained comfort from within,
I located a quite place in a hole where I could sing,
and hide away from the infuriated and vicious wind.
I meander away quietly in a deep sleep and later
appeared on an extensive stretch of fertile land.
There I was walking peacefully on this vast land
an immense land filled with mango trees
trees whose branches were laden with different species of mangos.
Among them were mango trees that were filled with blossom.
The blooming trees smiled at me with intense glory.
Green mangos of contrasting shapes and sizes hang humbly
from the encumbered branches creating a tranquil atmosphere.
I walked around composedly and admired their awesome beauty
and absorb the magnificent scenery that filtered beyond the land.
I faded slowly into day break and plunged into a harmonious atmosphere.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Who am I, one person in so many,
That God hears me when I call?
So many billions
Still, He hears one voice
Out of them all.
Sea of soul, some great, some mighty, some small,
Who am I that He hears me when I call?
I am a Mighty Warrior
Who goes boldly before the throne of God.
I array myself with the Holy Armor,
Awaiting the battle call!
Armed with the breastplate of righteousness,
I girt my loins with the truth I wear.
I put on the helmet of salvation,
The blood-bought covering of God.
Walking in the path of light,
I bind my feet in the gospel of peace.
My shield in my left hand, up high I hold,
As evil comes against me, my faith is bold.
My sword in my right hand, as His Spirit befalls,
One with God standing straight and tall.
That’s who I am, A Mighty Warrior
Who He hears, when I call.
FOR THE NEW TORCH BEARERS
(APROPOS MLK: 2)
I have voyaged over many tempestuous oceans and seas;
I have been pursued in woods by vicious dogs,
Salivating stale slave smells left in hanging trees;
Been hunted, trapped and penned like sliming wild hogs.
I’ve waded rivers buoyed by the bodies of ancestors;
My blood has caked on their banks in the golden dawn;
Yet I’m still here; solid like a rock, standing in the mist
Of our debtors;
For I am the flaming spirit from the black phoenix’s spawn
I am that everlasting arm of which the ancestors leaned
Upon;
I am that of which the ancestors long ago spoke;
I am what sustained them during their bloody rebuke
And lashing scorn;
I am the anchor that strengthen them with an audacious
And undying hope.
So come chosen children; everybody gather here
Around.
Let us sit together talking and praying for a while.
Like Papa, let us keep our eyes on the prize; gaze
Not down on the ground.
Raise high your heads: strutting down the blood stained
freedom aisle.
Listen children, the battle is not yet won; there’s still work
left to be done.
Girdle yourselves with an ebony pilgrim’s pride; girt
The rising sun of new days begun.
Rise up little children and give rebirth to the words
The ancestors said;
Rise up little children and cover yourself with the blood
They have shed.
Rise up little children and rip apart the new veiled shackles
And invisible yoke;
Rise up little children, raising your bright new torches
Higher than everlasting hope:
You are the new torch bearers of the dream;
You are the new Martin Luther King.
how hard to see the border
when surrounded by water
a land that is girt by sea
in fear they come
avoiding a gun
that says to here you can’t flee
this land abounds in nature’s gift
in beauty rich and rare
but for you, we will not share
plenteous plains
with great refrains
leave Australia’s care
island home in paradise lost
Nauru, Manus, to name a few
out of sight if you don’t mind
you risked it all to start again
a promise of new life better yet
to a hell hole you must remain
the people cry out to bring you here
but the hardest of right men politicians fear
lest they lose their vote
hard-line left and hard-line right
no matter which way you go
the circle of fear remains tight
what good can come of a refugee
in a land where opportunity is to be found
Christ was one: let’s not forget the nativity
Advance Australia’s shame
that is our new refrain
– a new generation is stolen
© tastigr 2018
I was up on deck of the USS Arizona doing the morning chores,
When another plane came along, so I just passed it by, gores,
Because they landed at Ford Island all the time, but this time,
It was strafing me, attacking me repeatedly as I was the prime.
So I ran forward to get under cover, and I did not get hurt,
But then another plane came around the same way, girt,
But again, nobody got hit, so I proceeded to go inside,
Back to my battle station, when a bomb hit where I did hide.
It knocked me out, ruptured both lungs, all lights went out,
And I awoke and picked up where I left off, with no pout,
Pearl Harbour was rank with warfare, bullets flew all around,
And I don’t know how long I had laid there, but I was bound.
I was intent on opening the water-tight door, not allowed,
In battle conditions to be entered, but I managed proud,
I made my way to the turret to assist there, and one said,
“Boy, you’re a good boy Carson,” they just needed me red.
There was no panic down there or anything, but much water,
And smoke, and they don’t mix, and then a commander
Told me to come on deck and help, but we were at a loss,
The ship was beat, and we then had to abandon and toss.
But just before I did, I ran into a friend, crying and dying,
Burnt, skin dangling off his body, very openly just hanging,
So I took his arm, but there was nothing that I could do,
So he died later, and its bothered me all my life through.
So they gave the word “abandon ship” and so I stepped off,
Not knowing how badly I was hurt, so passed out, did turnoff,
I went down in the water and it was peaceful and nice,
And then I saw this bright light, but something saved me, ice.
I got back up to the water’s surface, but burning oil,
Surrounded me in a complete circle, but, no more toil,
The next thing I knew was somebody’s arm on mine,
Pulling me out the water, and then I knew I’d be fine.
I made it to Ford Island sick bay but saw another there,
Whose intestines were in his hands, holding them bare,
And who said to me “War sure is hell isn’t it, shipmate,”
So I replied and just got up and walked out, straight.
Died January 14th 2001
my little garden
planted seeds of vegetables
blessing them to grow
Planning them richly
The seeds that I gleaned blossoms
Flourishing parting
Sprouting green colors
Leafy green vegetables
planted I water
life beams sprouting Earth
Standing tall blossoming forth
vegetated girt
so seeded planted
The seeds that I gleaned blossoms
vegetable garden
6/28/23
written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
Dear love, you are a snow-girt swan who glides
Along the pearly traces of a lake
For in your breast, unearthly grace resides:
A power, like morn’s bud, wide and awake.
You are a nymph who rests within the ebb
Of some cool stream, whose smile traces stars.
Dear love, within your beauty’s twining web,
I have been tangled. Your bright crest unbars
With fairest summer weather and spring nights,
And autumn afternoons, stowed with the dreams,
Of golden evenings, and of winter sprites
Which wend around the forests, wrapped in beams.
Dear love, your heart’s as soft as flakes of snow
That dot the mountains and the moors. Fresh dew
Which drips across the flower’s golden brow
Is all the gentleness that makes you, you.
Have we ne’er met before, maid of the lea,
Where gleaming, murm’rous brooks all gently moan,
What would have isolation left of me?
If not for you, I would have died alone.
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Deep in the woods of central Maine,
Schoodic Lake lies placid and pristine,
Its limpid, pure waters lapping against
Shores of boulders crowned with cedars,
Whose grey, writhen trunks and roots,
Clinging doggedly to the lichen-streaked stone,
Resist the winds from off the lake,
Resist the blizzards of countless deep winters,
Resist the inescapable ravages of time.
The waters of the lake are cold and clear—
As if newly born of distant melting glaciers,
Or gushing up from unseen springs, far beneath.
They say the lake is bottomless--
Its serene surface an expressionless face,
Beneath which tempests, passions unguessed,
Might bubble, and froth, and rage,
Before at last sinking out of our ken.
The lake, mirrorlike, reflects the tree-girt skies,
Rippling gently, and seems at peace:
But who can know what that visage hides,
Where, far below, those umplumbed depths
Conceal mysteries -- profound, immemorial,
Unknown, and ultimately-- unknowable.
April 4, 2019
Dawn draws her line along mother earths face
And she turns to bask in her lovers light
And so Dawn comes in turn to every place
She brings us forth from the long dark night
Here is where the ocean meets the land
Vast and deep and so different from the dirt
Crashing on the rocks, lapping against sand
Pebbles pushed to and fro, the globe she girt
Steepening mountains come to abrupt end
Where they scrape against the blue blue sky
the cliffs stand and harbor no foe nor friend
And here the very earth just falls away
this is where the day unfurls
this edge is where souls uncurl
20160623
The American Library Association
implores cognoscenti tubby alert
impersonators, who
call themselves Ernie and Bert
took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,
(who worked for Peanuts),
and pay-dirt, though
dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous
sordid details suppressed kept from press,
(which scurrilous breach of conduct
involved said scallywag
violating more than flirt
discovered in prurient compromised activity,
where his skin flute encircled,
with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected
public television station benefactors,
and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly
to make a profit sounding proper
sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
asper faux expected by
a "FAKE" trumping prophet,
sans motley crue comic
stripped of more'n
motion picture PG ratings,
hence future lurid, graphic,
banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
muted, disallowed, and banned
so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
(who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
returning amidst fanfare hoopla
much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
glory and apple pie order land
ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
and horrifyingly
brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
whereat armed guards
strategically stationed
at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable
ravishing knowledge
hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
faster then Clifford
the big red dog speed!
Red is rising misty veil from the cliffs,
red is sun unfolding –
looking through the gale,
radiant look withholding.
Land of spires, flowery valleys,
reddish rising beams.
Longwise piney alleys,
rushed are streams.
Pearled blossoms leaves,
life that gropes with sun meant,
to burst its sheaths,
flourish meadows’ scent.
Rocks with flowers girt,
sun-flooded scree,
birds in chirp
and their singing glee.