Best Lucas Poems
On another site, I have a Spanish friend
A year ago, I couldn't understand what he meant
But today it's clear
He persevered
I admire his tenacity to learn english time well spent
G ranted there are times when your
E nergy level has become inadequate
O r hind sight lost sight of for sight
R equiring a new regimentation
G ouged with gorgeous poems being
E levated to levels highly unknown requiring a
L eap of some form of fantastic faith
U usurped by none other then Lucas himself who
C an have the propensity, ostensibly along with
A udacity to promote all of his veracity
S o he can become a blooming flowering actor on Planet of the Apes.
The rest of this my mind it completely escapes.
Jim Horn
Apt vision sees the saga here,
Sense monomyth as source of sight;
Keep motive spree as story steers.
Glimpse worlds that drift on paths of light,
Employ the means to tell the tale;
Obsess the thoughts on storyboard,
Reach ideas seen as plot prevails;
Give quest your lot in message sought,
Embark to lift the cause and theme.
Look deeper then to frame the mood,
Use inspired gifts to match the dream;
Claim purpose when the touch feels good,
Apply the Force to advance tale,
Sound touch can cause ventures that sail.
Leon Enriquez
04 May 2015
Singapore
Yo, I say yo,
Don’t go until you here this,
This bliss, don’t dismiss, my message,
I know 8 mc’s, 7 in physical form, one in spiritual essence,
We got presence,
It all started, with the Jerry G Lucas,
And then Lucas Jr.
He will school ya,
And Melba, the compassionate,
Castin’ it aside, all notions of herself,
In a symphony of sacrifice,
And then there’s me the poet scholar,
I wear a colla,
Of slayin’ beasts of hatred,
But I’m elated,
Because I found ha,
The christocentric, Madonna,
Who set my world on fire,
She’s no lia,
She claims the desire,
Of minions of millions of men,
Who envy my wisdom,
In choosin’ this venus,
Who gave birth to the child of light,
I mean a warrior of right,
Autumn, the season of joy,
And with little Woodrow, we make seven,
We going to heaven,
And leadin’ the world there,
Gerald G Junior, He’ll school ya,
With business elasticity,
And he’ll help you see,
The light of common urgency,
The magnificent 7, and with Christ we make 8,
The numba of new beginnin’s
Sending, minions, to lendin’ love, and covetin’ kindness,
Can you rhyme this,
It all started with the patriarch,
He had no fatha,
But with his iron will,
He became the transcendent,
You can’t bend it,
His fist of fury,
With methodical precision,
He makes ya listen,
And can you understand, this man, of the ages?
Maybe so, maybe not,
But can’t no one stop us,
Cause we a clan,
Of the all mighty,
Shine bright we,
Will change the face of Arrakis,
Amen.
Helen used to race in non-disabled sailing events,
In the 400 class but soon became a para-sailor,
Of single 1-person keelboats 2.4mR, air vents,
They’re a very small 2.4 metre boats with rudder.
In 2006 Helena won a silver medal in Beijing city,
In the pre-olympic Test Event for taxing yngling,
And she proudly stood on, took the podium gritty,
Beside Annie Lush and Lucy MacGregor braving.
And she won the Paralympic Games in London,
As the first Brit to win gold at sailing, she dared,
So she was awarded the MBE 2013 for motion,
Has a BEng in yacht, power design, she cared.
Initially disappointed by third place in Rio, Brazil,
But when she mounted that valorous podium,
The sadness instantly ebbed away with the thrill,
Of achieving such a hard task against the sodium.
His soft lavendar shaded skin was delicate as silk, like petals from a rose.
Adorning blue eyes glazing into a calm blue sky,
A radiant smile like the rays of a bright yellow sun.
The hair that adorned the top of his head was as black as lumps of coal
Found along side the railroad yard,and sparkled at times as if diamonds specially
placed among his tiny round head.
The joy it brings to see his tiny arms stretch strenously to relect life being
placed in a frail tiny body.
A faint smell of an insanity flower garden seemed to fill the cold drab room.
Small tiny fingers attached to a fragile hand,grasping on to the soft blanket,
That wrapped around his thin body.His touch feels like a gentle lamb.
The butterfly kisses are like the taste of milk and honey flowing from a jar.
His grin broadens showing his teeth that are white as snow.
A glance at his elegant small feet with stubby short toes,
That would someday fill the shoes of a strong fine man.
He gleams like a ray of light,
Like the white snow glistens,
Precious and sweet he is as an angel from Heaven.
Why don't you play
look the clouds are made of silk today
and there, there in a space of somewhere
a bird I saw dancing in the air
and the sun has so many things to say
all you have to do is follow my gaze
Why don't you come and play
In this garden every stone is a diamond
listen to the trees they are never silent
over there, over there the the wind sang something into your hair
so hard to contain this sunlight stare
let it rain, it's all the same, let's go out and play
and the bare foot muddy puddles splash
and my barbarian smile just doesn't care
Every trick is a fascination
all half formed words which have no meaning to them
and left alone in a constant chatter
hums some musical tone of communication
I'll pay you a visit all of sudden
just to interrupt your singular seated silence
What shall we do, think of a game, come on lets do something, lets play
Put me in the swing, I want to scream
and sit in the rhythms while the world is rocking
and the skies slide by before my eyes
and sleepy holds me gently sleepy
drifting within a million things
as new as a surprise how everything seems
It's that time I remember is always the same
what shall we do today
grabs my attention with every second
I know, come one, let's go out and play
something different another one repeated
along with this butterfly concentrated
and curiosity to do something with them
The world is scattered where interest abandoned
and the sun has so many things to say
all you have to do is follow my gaze
Why don't you come and play
Rudyard said it best, but now it is my time to build on another’s table,
If you can shun the word I can’t, and embrace the phrase, I’m able,
If you can watch the world you love, be torn apart and rent asunder,
But not give way to hate it, or join in wicked plunder,
If you can lose your mind and heart as well, but lift yourself from such that hell,
If you can watch your labor tossed aside, but work on despite the pain inside,
If you can hear advise from friend and foe, that works to mock your toil true,
And yet apply the good that’s said, and rise to climb the mountains new,
If you can lose your love when comfort fades, but rage on through that stress,
If you can endure the trials of this life, and still not worship tests,
If you can achieve the most from Gifts within, yet not give in to greed within,
If you can seek to share, and watch your house unravel while others bleed you
bare,
If you can feel the weight of atlas on your back and see Christ’s body torn,
And yet refuse to relinquish hope to see the dawn of earth adorned,
If you can love all women but none too much,
If you can love all things with open touch,
If you can be a fool, and still forgive yourself for errors of your past,
If you transcend sin, yet still restrain the pangs to judge your sister’s lapse,
If you can run this race with gentle care, yet unafraid to risk it all,
If you can fall, and fall again, and yet again, but never lose your faith,
If you can run this race, yes sometimes slow, and without reaping still yearn to
sow,
If you can trust in God, through thick and then, and not give sway to doubt in men,
If you can love like Christ, our God above, yet still resolve to confront wrong,
If you can see affections wane with time, yet still acknowledge angel’s songs,
If can shun all ugly sounds, yet still embrace the beauty that keeps you true,
If you can stand all things, and still at end, love you for simply being you,
If you can be the gentle sort of old, yet still rebuke with mercy bold,
Then you will know the truth of God,
Then you will see the life that drives and helps us strive throughout our lives,
If you can run this race my son, and love and live despite the cross you bear,
Then my son, and only then, you’ll be a Man who dares to dare,
To yes believe in God above,
And be a vessel of her love.
chief of disguise
collector of masks
the King wears his
as a helmet to scare
off enemies
the fool with false nose
the jester in chains
remains in oubliette
singing in his screams
impossible to forget
the old men who come
from the sea and steam
in cold of Poseidon spray
salt and fish from waves
likely alone are the women
and wives of sailors
so long as they have not
turned to traitors,
bakers or smiths
the loves who are steadfast
never safe from a day
when their hearts do not return
fading to old maids all
in the name of heartbreak
the Queen is tired of
the Knave of Bells
his complaints so
needless and vain,
checking his hair in the mirror
she is exhausted
left to remain as consort
to the pain in her heart
for the King is away
not likely to return.