Best High Point Poems
The Middle Time is now upon me,
The tune to which I dance grows somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacophonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulcher of careless memory passed,
I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
As I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.
Yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
Content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.
O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As t'was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
Nobler thoughts - the ones which stay,
Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
To deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?
Form:
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
When two people fall in love,
there's one thing that they long to do.
It's true for birds and bees and doves,
and equally for me and you.
The pleasantest of loving deeds,
it's fed by, and in turn it feeds,
the fondness it's the symbol of.
Your life is in its golden prime -
drink now, or let the chalice pass.
We're all in thrall to spiteful Time -
enjoy your beauty while it lasts.
Say yes to love. It's death to dither.
The rose, once blown, can only wither.
From this high point, touch the Sublime.
You know the thing I'd have you choose!
You understand my thrust precisely.
Who could refuse a lover who's
petitioning your trust so nicely?
Slough off old skin of guilt and sin -
you win this game by giving in!
Come play with me. You cannot lose.
I wonder who I am sometimes, what seems to be a universal phenomenon. As everyone remains looking to be someone other than themselves, because those who are themselves are persecuted and dreams hung on the cross by society.
But as I wonder the colorful atmosphere of those around me tend to judgingly remind me exactly who I am and what I’m capable of accomplishing.
Because they assume before they even get the chance to know me, my story, why I act, talk, or dress different, why I smell another fragrance, perceive, taste, and feel the world inversely.
Under my skin they shoot before they ask, a trigger finger itching as the deadly explosion blast piercing the body of another innocent soul. Slavery is illegal now but we still hang.
Hang pictures up of loved ones taken through an unjust act, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of invisible shackles as I walk and fall to my death…click clack, clic clac, click…a heart beating but dead now the heart no longer beats…
Under my skin if I put my hoodie up I might as well wear a mask, to hide the sinister agenda people assume I carry. Sometimes I just want some shade to block out all the negative rain on a summer day.
And when I succeed they assume I’m cheating, because my plateau has no high point or high ground. I’m a flat line, dead to success, and they put me here.
It’s a little misleading when all your hard work just falls off the deep end, because they look at you as if you have a red hand or you’re the bandit.
And if I bought it I could never own it because under my skin without acting I’ve already sinned.
How can you win when you can’t control the end?
All I can say is never stop praying and keep grinding until the end, because God controls the future. So never let someone else control you through “You cant’s or you’ll Nevers.”
P.S. I am black lives, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
With trepidation, a card from the Seer's deck, she drew
In hopes she get some insight on what she should do
Decipher why she attracts men that are afraid to commit
Continue to work two jobs, if not, then which to omit?
She flipped over a card and was overjoyed to see 'The Sun'
Predicting good health, happiness, love, vitality...all rolled into one
She cleared her mind and prepared to have her fortune read
Promising herself to take in stride everything the physic said.
Things are going good for you, your finances are in good shape.
Make that appointment with your financial advisor to avoid red tape
All the hard work you put into your job is noticed by many
Your a natural in your field and your rewards will be plenty.
People are drawn to you because you always see the bright side
Radiate who you are and what you stand for, don't hold it inside
In your life, you'll be able see the truth with a capital 'T'
You have the knowledge and life tools to be who you need to be
In love, relationships will reach new levels of connection, harmony and bliss
Don't put all your eggs in one basket,... girl please always remember this
Get out and enjoy your life, be your true self and let your intuition be your guide
Everything happens for a reason, fretting about will only eat you up inside
Your health and feelings of well-being are at a high point
Your attitude will be more positive, you'll feel less out of joint
The universe is conspiring in your favour, all insecurities will be bid adieu
Good choices are adding up to create a great life, welcome to a new you!
Sponsor ~ Tracie- Indigo Dreamweaver
Contest Name ~ Tarot Poem
Tarot card ~ 'The Sun'
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 43
Cuck-uk ruck-cuckoo Paloma on the wing
Who gets to curry pot with 100Bn
The Eagle or the Cock gets to down bird with sling
Are the waters receding while we loud sing
Who brought us to high point at 2015
Cuck-uk ruck-cuckoo Paloma on the wing
Ere the ink is hardly dry El Ninos swing
How many wars will be wrought now in between
The Eagle or the Cock gets to down bird with sling
Will the Good Lord re-freeze melting ice crackling
From mouths of Seine Thames or Hudson here eighteen
Cuck-uk ruck-cuckoo Paloma on the wing
Nuclear tests in Pacific still in ears ring
How many more lush love green isles sunk in sin
The Eagle or the Cock gets to down bird with sling
Cheer one hundred ninety-seven hands signing
On waters lapping on heels under heat-lid bin
Cuck-uk ruck-cuckoo Paloma on the wing
The Eagle or the Cock gets to down bird with sling
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Ahh! First glimpse of my mansion!
What unexpected grandeur!
A glistening structure of elegance,
Built to long endure!
Designed by the Master architect,
Who knows me through and through.
He didn’t ask me about this castle,
He knew exactly what to do.
He placed it on a high point,
Like a city on a hill.
It can be seen far away,
Showing His stately skill.
Built to last for eternity,
On streets of gold, to look sublime.
Near gates of pearl and walls of jasper,
With a touch of pure divine!
Sea
Is full of majesty
Person picks up seashell from the sea
To listen to ballad of the sea
The duns are covered by sea holy
The seashell song is of destiny
It unveils the soul of the sea
And persons own soul aches listening to its beauty
Above the sea sunset seems to set heavens a blaze
The almost surreal abstract beauty of it will amaze
Yet very real is the visage beyond this misty haze
With violet orange and gold colors that spirit will daze
The seashell sings of various things
About albatross that spreads its huge wings
About hidden treasure of golden and diamond rings
And about glory of distant stars it sings
One of the ballads is of evolution and imagination that need no reference point
From any reference point
And ever growing temporal vortex of what is imagination from that high point
And how the soul to this sublime majesty is conjoint
The soul is like the seed that toward it yearns
The seashell is like a lens that shows its patterns
It guides the soul like on sea ships are guided by lanterns
And through the seashell of its existence the spirit learns
The sun illuminates the dune
By the sea lagoon
It reminds the person that to ballad of the shell is in tune
That what it sings about is far beyond the dark side of the moon
Old people, like treasure, don’t come empty handed,
Their time here, their wisdom, like gold on display,
An empathic spirit who mines without stealing,
Will find that there’s much to be taken away.
Old people’s allegiance cannot be disbanded,
No man can their keen sense of friendship allay,
Their smile is as guileless as sun escorts day’s light ,
Their long goodbye hug, soft as evening holds night.
Becalmed now their ship with old people in harbor,
Await a kind word, a sea breeze to set sail,
Rise up with the tide, life now squeezed between bookends,
Embracing each day as fate’s journey appends.
For most weeks the high point, a trip to the barber,
With few expectations they wait for their mail,
If their dreams awaken be certain to take care,
If you’re not that healthy best sit in a chair!
Their wisdom of years is where lies the true treasure,
If you’re very lucky you’ll get your reward,
A smart supplicant can just open his heart there,
With oracles no one can tell what they’ll share.
A promise to call you, a kiss for good measure,
Is your ticket back, though your skiff now is shored,
Aladdin’s lost treasure, admission to dream’s vault,
And there’s only God to thank, Love to exalt.
Brian Johnston
August 10, 2014
I take my daily stroll across the bridge
and at it's high point
I look down upon my possible demise
It's been four long years since I lost my love
she left me and broke my heart entirely
but I'm still a love in disguise
I think about jumping to my death
but am holding out for the hope
that one day again I'll look her in the eyes
Memories of her keep me alive
as she was my one and only true love
the beauty under the bright blue skies
But to have a hug once more
and to taste the saltiness of her lips
could only be my soughted prize
Will tomorrow be the day I jump
Or will she return her love to me
For this I hope to realize
Thursday, April 6, 2023
I Only Live To Love You Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
The high point of my morning
is waking up to see
your gentle face
The man lept from our balcony row and landed directly on Tebow and K'Vnulash, who began to tongue kiss passionately, realizing their final moments were at hand. It was not a gory explosion, but one that inspired thirst. We stopped by the Liquor store on the way home, almost parking in the spot that nobody parks in because it's filled with broken glass. I crunched over it with my wooden-soled plaid crocs and entered the swill-exchange. The clerk procured one bottle of Popovs, but my eye saw an 8 oz. flask of Thunderbird nestled between a quart of Bailey's and the dirt-flanged walls of the establishment. I questioned the price, and found I was several dollars short. I returned to my vehicle and informed coraline of the problem, to which she replied with a most devious and predictably effective plan: crush up the bottle of aspirin in the glove compartment and hock it as coke to some dumb junkie in the alley. This alley was around the corner, a dead-zone of perpetual shade between towering concrete and steel dildos, ever stretching to the possibly homophobic sun. As I entered the triangle of darkness in search of a derelict, some stringy white liquid landed on my forehead from what must have been a very high point, as it stung with velocity. I concluded that it was a message from Zoroaster, who revealed to me that it was actually the product of a frittering stock jockeys mid-morning wank finished out the window. Thank Zoroaster. I quickly found an unfortunate and vapid urchin who gladly exchanged eight dollars for a paltry sum of ground aspirin. He snorted it immediately.
I said: praise Zoroaster
St. James Discernment Question Answers
Thank you answering these questions and helping the Discernment Committee
with it's work.
From: James Thomas Horn
#1 Remember a moment that was a high point, when you felt our church was doing God's work
and fulfilling its mission... What was happening?
Answer1: Choir was singing at Arbor Landing for Christmas and I was in
the choir. What we always would desire, Was to be singing in the
choir; Each sound, Made hearts pound; Our singing had been
designed to inspire. It was a joyous experience watching people
enjoying our singing. They had a piano there we should have used.
#2 Name three things you value most about this congregation.
Answer2:
Friendliness
Sincerity
Thoughtfulness
#3 Look back over your entire life... recall a time when you most appreciated the ministry of a priest.
What was happening? What did you appreciate?
Answer3: When my dad was killed on active duty in Navy and I was 15 and
an acolyte in an Episcopal Church in 1956. Joe Buchanan was his
name at Church of the Epiphany in Norfolk, VA on Lafayette
Boulevard. I still remember church and his name.
#4 What will be our congregation's 3 most exciting, energizing, and important accomplishments to you
over the next 3 years?
Answer4:
Continue being a motivating factor in local community.
Provide a group who is interested in preparing and reading
poetry.
Have a quarterly musical recital and invite whole neighborhood
to it.
Comments: Say a prayer for Father Dave's brother who is severely ill in
Atlanta, GA. Oh, and it was great having young workers come here
from Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, NC area.
Your response has been emailed to the Discernment Committee
Form:
4/27/16
Fluctuations and changes in weather
Forever and ever
Together
Through whatever whenever wherever
For the better
Throughout any endeavors
And adventures
While above and below birds of the same and different feathers
Remember
I would never treat you lesser
Anytime anywhere whether it is or is not interstellar
Near or far away from motion sensors
And the range of any metal detectors
Regardless of if anything I wrote was read
Don't forget and respect what I said
I kid you not, look and think instead
But be sure to not lose your head
Over a trivial amount of bread
While the sky and clouds are colored red
As you stand your ground for what is right in order to keep your family fed
Since way back when
And until the end
Increases and decreases in rpm
At the low and high point of the bend
Many many men
Like to say it all depends
Often, instead of now and then
But it is nothing I'd recommend to myself, family or a friend
Sweet friends to the morning soul, Days that hear the bells gazing on one's soul.
render me vain to rise up the dying sweet notes, give an joyful thought the entire fixing on the eyes. I saw, I saw the entire issue on high point two angels were born, wings smitten awaiting those flaming swords. singular fathoming where has sepulture stamp heart, their eyes had much love. in measure change the black touch for the poor soul love last. But my eyes were near old gazing son four morning beginning break --- This side burns?? drew him side to slow to speak. him departed who frozen two hour secure thou art appeared disjoin, ere be his way that think death can not see, those track sleep together till comfort come, doubt change behind ledge that enter thy soul. there is much love in an dead man eyes. I am, I was, I am to be. Great justice put us awaiting victory to the poor woman emperor. ( if thou return) Set about the morning light than kill it's wise so that the gods don't see it. ( let me be old seeker of souls) Let me the knowledge, The wiser pity hold back those children lost souls. Men shall pay dearly for justice invisible speech have deed it so. Yeshua will be done. empty out old love in the cold swim of some. for sweet horror led us to the next horror. ( I once swear)