Best Honourably Poems
Watching you atop your tower
for once
wishing not to be you
but to be the dove
on which you prey
to so honourably
have you take my pain away
I turned
to set this thought to paper
when I looked back
you were gone
and I sank
so sad
to still be there.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best gift*
Such is everlasting life which does our souls uplift
With Your offered reconciliation midst sin-enmity’s rift
Making us heaven-bound, and from hell’s flames, adrift.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best security
Such is assurance of salvation in Your sovereignty
With Your granted adoption for our divine identity
Making us blessed as Your children throughout eternity.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best Book
Such is the Bible that keeps us from worldliness’ hook
With Your illumined vision for our scriptural truth’s look
Making us wise unto our faith’s perfection in every nook.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best story
Such is the Gospel of Your glorious victory
With Your bestowed conversion burying our old nature’s misery
Making us obedient so that Your name we can honourably carry.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best privilege
Such is serving You by Your grace we acknowledge
With Your supplies along stewardship-mileage
Making us fruitful in the ministry by Your guided knowledge.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best situation
Such is contentment in Your will in any occasion
With Your guaranteed provision and purging sanctification
Making us dependent on You through constant supplication.
We praise You, Lord, for providing us the best reward
Such is joyfulness in striving for holiness upon Your standard
With Your promised fortification around Your love’s safeguard
Making us close to You while each works as Your diligent steward.
*2Corinthians 9:15 Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.
September 23, 2019
Indecision!
No need to read between the lines.
By Stanley Russell Harris
(the new mad author)
and (Poetry Soup Honourably Mentioned)
No need to read between the lines.
There is nothing to be found.
Right way up, sideways, or upside down.
What you read is what you get.
There is nothing hidden and yet…
You are looking, I know you are.
Sorry, there is nothing, I know I am right.
As this is all what I do write.
Now day has turned into night.
So please digest what I have wrote.
As I lay here a simple bloke.
Although my writing, is not a joke.
Just read the words I did write.
They made no sense to me tonight.
Was just that writing bug, alright.
I thought, what the heck, I’ll let it write.
Although I have nothing to say!
That bug will write until its day.
I will, have the last word today!
Or was it night, I meant to say?
My Wellie boots are battered
and all frayed at the top,
They cost me fifty bob
in C.D. Ellis’s shop.
They have seem better days
but they still keep water out
and that after all is what
Wellie boots are about.
I bought them on leave
way back in 1962
and with a little care
I reckon they’ll see me through.
We wandered winter nights
over Billy Bulson's crisp cold land?
under country clear skies
a twelve bore close to hand.
They’ve tramped may a mile,
kept me dry in a Lambwaths flood
and fifty years later those
Wellie boots are still good.
I shall wear my battered boots
until my very end,
putting them on my feet is like
communing with an old valued friend.
In my Last Will and Testment I shall
decree they are honourably burned
because that’s the fitting end
those Wellie boots have earned.
They cost me 50 bob
at C.D Ellis’s shop
and they’re now torn and battered
and well frayed at their very top.
Fatema beloved special daughter of the Holy prophet
In an age and place which treated daughters so brutally
our prophet stood up to welcome Fatima
whenever she entered
and kissed her honourably, fondly.
Known as the Lady of light , Fatema our lady of light
Oh my luminous luminary with a halo so bright
Our guiding star lady however dark may be the night
You embody the symbology of sacred femininity in reality
A role model for the feminine, noble Queen of luminosity
Much have we learnt from your auspicious short 18 years of life
You were the greatest lady mother and wife
You showed the world what is sacred about the feminine
And how every woman is and can be a sacred pure feminine
The quest for her holiness is a grand ritual of life
She taught women how to respect their bodies
And make others respect them too
For chastity is vital to physical health
And helps to prevent the various dangerous STDs
She was Fatimah the most pure and the chaste
Without her values womanhood would be spent, laid waste
She is our empress who impressed us without material crowns
She was an angel without wings and bid every woman dress
In flowing regal gowns
And Fatema's name and fame has spread to the farthest towns
Her own piety and chastity an epitome example brilliantly forever shines
She's our lamp post, her luminosity more than diamonds from mines
Oh in Fatemah the whole womanhood ought to take pride
Stand up and salute her to eternity
The best woman the best daughter, sister the best women's guide
She's the best role model celebrity.
Richer than rich!
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad Author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Has football gone completely mad!
A sport of all now to be had!
Boys and girls play it today.
I wonder, is it for the pay?
Talk is now, if one does go.
To China, that’s overseas, you know.
If here you have made your name.
There you would be one of fame.
I mean a million pounds every week!
No doubt one will work, so to speak.
But kicking an air filled ball.
Ain’t worth one million pounds at all!
Still, if I was offered a payment so.
Off I would blinking go.
I’d write a verse every day!
Rest of the time I’d count me pay.
lol (The new mad Author)
Is there life after death?
By Stanley R Harris
The new mad author
& A poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Is there life after death?
Did Christ rise from the dead?
If you are a true Christian!
Your faith must not that question.
In days of old word of mouth told.
Of what happened in those far-off days.
Then the word was written down.
By wise men, alas they were so few around.
If Jesus Christ was the son of God!
And came down from heaven to save us lot.
Why then could it not be.
After being crucified and died.
He rose from death for all to see?
Those wise words written long ago!
By wise men who seemed to know.
What the future would portray.
Which still some do not believe to- day!
A bright star they said would show the way.
Where Christ was born and it still shines today.
But crucified, He would be, they also say.
And rise from death on the third day.
Faith is what it’s all about.
Jesus spoke quietly did not shout.
Yet many that called to him.
He helped cure them, freed them from sin.
If I had two glasses of water!
Dissolve salt in one. Not that I ought.
And for water, you did thirst.
Which glass would you drink from first?
Now if I was always known to tell the truth!
Point out the glass that is pure.
That one you would drink I am sure,
And that is what faith or belief is for.
I guess what I am trying to say.
Do you believe and have faith?
Christ did rise on that third day.
As that’s what’s recorded about that day.
Raised in glory gone back home.
From where he did originally roam.
Now Jesus sits at the right hand of God on high.
His rightful place when He did finally die.
The above poem came to me, as BBC radio Suffolk today, Sunday 9 April 2017 Palm Sunday, were discussing they had interviewed some people who are claiming they were Christians did not believe Jesus rose from being dead. He was not the first person to rise from death, was He? As Lazarus was also raised from his tomb. Miracles are not impossible, are they?
Football II
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
And a poetry soup honourably mentioned poet
Football is a ball sport. I thought everyone did know.
Sometimes the ball goes in the net. Other times it doesn’t you know.
Who is to blame? I really do not know.
If all the managers got the sack! When their team does not play well!
Who would give them a job? Would you? As I would not I you can tell.
Football fans are all the same, all seem to scream and yell.
That’s if their team is winning, and if it’s not as well!
I feel sorry for the managers. As if fans had their way.
They will get the sack. And have to survive on no pay.
Now as the fans know what to do.
They should form a committee and manage too.
And if they cannot do the job well!
They can retire themselves as well!
And if you thought I’d say go to hell!
Why, do they play football there as well?
My local radio today is discussing the defeat of Ipswich Town by Lincon we lost by a very late goal 1-0 . I am not an over keen fan of the sport since I stopped playing myself many decades ago. The sadness is due to losing to a non league club and subsequently Ipswich have been knocked out of the league competition. I always was told winning was a welcome bonus. It is the taking part that's important. After all Football is only a game. Tin hats Dragon lol
2 days to go for the USA and hundreds for GB. lol .
Does football make you buzz?
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author.
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
First I am not a blinking bee.
Nor do a football fan, I be.
So I am feeling good you see.
As at a football match, I don’t be.
If I was, I’d say, ‘so what!’
If our team was beaten by another lot.
Of men playing with the football.
Kicking it about like fools!
All those grown men on the field.
Earning lots of cash no doubt!
Mind you they do make their fans scream and shout.
If in the league, or if knocked out!
If ITFC win, fans moan and groan.
And if they lose, moan on their phone.
I hope not on their mobile, do they moan.
Behind the wheel as they drive home.
Football is a ball sport.
Football is a ball sport.
I thought everyone did know.
Sometimes the ball goes in the net.
Other times it doesn’t you know.
And who is to blame? I just do not know.
If all the managers got the sack!
When their teams did not play well.
Who would give them a job?
Are football fans all the same?
As they all seem to scream and yell.
That’s if their team is winning.
Or if it’s not as well.
I feel sorry for the managers.
As if fans had their way.
They would all get the sack.
And survive on no pay.
Now as the fans know what to do.
I suggest they all managed true!
And if they cannot do very well!
They can retire themselves as well.
A latino zone in the base of North America
having an injured past honourably graced by two peasants
known to be the most populated in the Spanish world
but suffers a massive exodus to his neighbor above.
He looks at Texas and says “twas once”
but has long moved on quite wonderfully,
proven by his show of corn, chilies and chocolates
which he firstly introduced to the world.
Rabbit and volcano only mix in his backyard.
The least in stature of dogs is found within his dwelling,
with his living room nicknamed “the Ring of Fire”
And its entire household held by the blessing of the cross.
Battle of Arras April – May 1917
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
I was not there. I have to say.
I was not born. I meant to say.
Had I been of age, you know.
None these words would surely show.
World War I was finally won.
Many battles were fought in that one.
Each one was fought until the death.
Rolls of honour reveal what I’ve just said.
The Suffolk Regiments did us proud.
On that Arras bloody battleground.
Many souls were lost, I do implore.
Seek elsewhere, their battles scores.
The Battle of Arras was our men’s one.
The 2nd 7th 11th later 4th Suffolk regiments one.
From April to May 1917; so much carnage was then seen!
So many souls rose they say.
158,000 from both sides in that battle heydays.
Many more were no doubt lost.
For ground, that was won at such a cost.
It matters not what I say.
Many Suffolk folk mourned and prayed.
For that Battle soon did end.
Other battles went before.
The Somme, Passchendaele to name just two more.
But of all of them, you must agree.
Arras was the greatest for, ‘The Suffolk’s,’ you see.
May, ‘The Suffolk’s’, with their Canadian allies.
Rest now their weary battle cries.
As through those chalk tunnels they did go.
Named Wellington, Nelson, they did so.
Then finally, once under no man’s land.
Took battle, to their enemy Germans.
On Arras bloody battlegrounds.
(N.B. No man’s land is the name given to the space between two enemy positions; it is an area of land covered by weapons of both sides, so whoever enters it is sure of being fired upon. There was usually little or no shelter; apart from crater holes, caused by either sides artillery shells. On this particular battleground tunnels were constructed by the British/Allied forces through the chalk soil, they were named Wellington and Nelson. Thus bypassing this particular killing ground, allowing more close quarter fighting. The tunnels were named by those that constructed them, New Zealanders, need I say more. Apart from thank you.)
>Blood tests
22-12-16
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author.
& Poetry Soup Honourably Mentioned
Have you ever had a blood test?
I have lots, you know.
Everybody wants them, why I don’t really know?
And I watch the needle and syringe.
To see the correct amount there does flow.
I saw the young fully trained phlebotomist.
I really did you know.
He looked so blinking young.
Could he facial hair really grow?
Just in case you’re wondering, I did not ask you know.
So, he could not be Father Christmas.
Although it is that time of year!
For Father Christmas to show his face.
What can be seen through that big white beard?
I know to be politically correct today.
I should have said that beard.
Was a, ‘light shade of grey.’
But even that’s, politically wrong today!
Taking my blood test today.
I’m sure that the phlebotomist was so young I say.
So I must look elsewhere you know.
For Father Christmas I must just so.
Now everyone I saw today.
Was oh! So young, that’s what I say.
And looking in the mirror, you know.
Surely that old man is not me.
But golly gosh, it is, just so.
So I could be Father Christmas.
Although beard I have not got.
So I will have to wear a false one.
Like those other impostors have got.
I’ve heard of global warming.
And I must confess one night.
I thought I’d shave my beard off.
I did and that just wasn’t right.
If this is global warming?
With the named storms that sadly blow.
Why are so many people blinking cold, in deep freezing, icy snow?
Perhaps we should say the Earth is cooling.
I really jest you not.
Then, with global warming freezing, global cooling could be, oh so blinking hot.
Merry Christmas everybody, Merry Christmas and a not too hot, cold, wet, freezing, windy New Year.
Stanley the new mad author & poetry soup honourably mentioned<
A candle burns, for who tonight?
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A poetry soup honourably mentioned poet!
Its power is just a tiny flame.
It lights the darkness of the night.
Many sometimes then are lit.
Their light brightens where you live.
Some are lit to share our woes.
When lives are lost they are, you know.
That’s a sad time for all I say.
As those candles can’t light our way.
In church, the Advent candle is lit.
Proclaims the Christ child doesn’t it?
Peace on earth, goodwill to men!
Will we ever see that peace again?
I hope no roadside candle you do light.
I pray no more lives are lost alright.
I know they will, as all do not pray.
If all were true Christian no lives would they slay.
As all are not of one faith I say.
Fighting will go on until that last day.
And when your last breath stops you know.
A candle will be lit for you just so.
May its glow guide your spirit high?
To that place we go when we die.
Let that candle give your spirit light.
So you rest in Paradise that’s right.
A candle burns for you that night
A candle burns for you that's right.
A candle to give your spirit light.
A candle burns for who tonight?
We’ve laid down our swords
And hanged up our shields
But the war still rages on in our hearts
We’ve tamed the warhorse
His saddle rests in the stable
But his stride still charges our frontlines
Our trenches buried
A soldier never stops his march
It will continue to consume him to his own end
And all those close to him
Will be his unintended victims
On the battle brought to his doorstep
So we’ve built a war machine
To deliver nothing less than glory
Designed perfection in total destruction
He moves with stealth
His existence camouflaged
You’ll never see him crumble as he salutes you
Honourably discharged into a violent society
Opposed to his order and discipline
To endure sounds of gunshots and chaos in the streets
Forced to relive his nightmares
Of exploding missiles and discharged mines
Screams of the dying and the agony of the wounded
Staring into the empty distance
He sees the worlds he's helped destroy
Following orders to protect and serve his own
He understands the sacrifice
As he holds his child in his arms
How he gave new life with his gun’s final breath
Surrounded by loved ones
Desolate as an abandoned battlefield
Missing the lives he's lost...dreading the lives he's taken
Explosions in his head
Shrapnel in his heart
He's a spear thrown deep into enemy territory
...I salute thee brave knight
For I sleep inspite of war tonight
A war once ended peace will endure, but yours is uncertain
Tribute to the Soldier!
A brother, a warrior...a sentinel...a hero
Thabang Jan Ngoma
07-17-2015
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Men Only #2
>Are the best things in life free?
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad Author
& Poetry Soup Honourably Mentioned
One of my cousin’s on Facebook one day.
Said the best things in life are free.
Then she wrote a list you see.
Well not you, as it was seen by me.
I had of course, to reply.
Well my writing bug did, I sigh!
1. Hugs! To have a hug that close honey.
I need deodorant and that costs money.
2. Raise a smile! For that I must clean my teeth.
Toothbrush and paste, they are not cheap.
3. Family! That’s not free.
Just think of the mortgage fee.
4. Sleep! Really need a bed for that.
They are not cheap. That’s a fact.
5. Kisses! Flowers, chocolates and all that.
Leaves my wallet looking flat.
7. Friends! No doubt my turn to treat.
Every blinking time at pub we meet.
8. Memories! Now that is the one.
Don’t need cash to remember one.
That was before all those things I did do.
You said were, ‘free,’ you did it’s true.
Sadly they were not for me.
The seven things you said were free.
So that’s all now, you’ll get from me.
And all of this, ‘was,’ blinking free.
ooo0ooo
Some of my Angels are on loan.
I say I have four caring for me.
Two in the day and night you see.
As my cousin was ill, you know.
I ordered two, too her go.
My cousin later informed me she was okay.
her operation done she did say.
So my two angels she thanked that day.
And bless sent them back yesterday.
I sent the following message on Facebook 9-8-15
I have trolled, you have been told.
And I don't know what to say.
Those angels I did send you know,
Are still not back today.
Did you tell them to travell by train?
I know their wings don't like rain.
I checked the air at Felixstowe.
Just in case there they did go.
Sadly there was no sign of them, you know.
You know I am a patient man.
Bet they are talking as angels can.
Expect they'll turn up, and when they do.
I'll tell you when to cover your ears too.
As the air here might be blue.
Bit like the sky, i'm telling you.
Oh yes! Hope you are well soon too.
Having released those angels two.
I'll clip their wings that's what I'll do.
And next time, send my men angels to you.
(TMA)
As we are both recovering the Angels are on stand by. Well you never really know when, or where they will be needed do you?