Best Mail Poems
I got a letter the other day;
The Postman delivered it in the usual way.
No return address I could see;
Who could possibly be writing to me?
I took the letter into my desk;
Made some room amidst the mess;
Used the opener to get inside;
Suddenly my eyes opened wide.
The letter was from my Father above,
He wanted to tell me of His love,
He told me I was special in his eyes,
And He sought me out like a worthwhile prize.
He's been watching over me, night and day.
And His spirit has guided my way.
All things are working together for my good,
I know He will do that which He promised me He would.
"Will you walk with Me, dear child?"
Comes His challenge , soft and mild.
"Yes, my God- give me your word,
I receive You as my Saviour and Lord."
I got God's letter through the mail,
And I know He can never fail'
My heart already knows revival.
Thank you- whoever sent me my first Bible'
Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
August 25, 2002
Why do I have a distinct feeling that
Some of us are addicted to Poetry Soup?
I look so forward to my Soup Mail chats
And those occasional poems about poop!
First thing in the morning I check to see
If there is a Blog I simply must read,
If I have won a contest with my poetry, [or]
If Cunningham has shared his latest deed.
Next, I look to see if I won the P.O.T.D.
After all, it certainly does no harm to check
Most days, the answer is a resounding “Nay!”
But I’ll continue to submit poems anyway.
Then, I give attention to the New Poems list
Always eager to see what my friends submit
At times, I’ll tell you, I simply shake my fist,
Or shake my head at lousy poems, I admit.
I respond timely to every comment I receive
And check to see if I have had any replies
You see, I haven’t much else to do, I believe,
But enjoy the laughter, the tears, the sighs.
Last of all, I read over latest contest offers
And decide which ones I may choose to enter
Especially those from the interesting authors
Sometimes those that are far right of center!
When I have thoroughly enjoyed the Soup
I go to my writing program and start to pen
Some poems work, others are nincompoop
I have a good night’s sleep, start over again.
Written August 6, 2022
Merry Christmas hail
mailed to every heart we love
gentle embrace sent
joy to the whole world
our king brings love, hope and peace
a sense of pure grace
on this silent night
His love shone so strong and bright
filled hearts with real life
the wise men came to
see the light of the world, Him
who would be the salt
hope filled the dark night
with inspiration - insight
feelings that bring peace
You bring the mail unfailingly
In sun and wind and rain
With cheery smile and bright “Hello"
And "Turned out nice again"
May I suggest a strategy
To brighten all our lives
Bring a million pounds from Ernie
Instead of twenty-fives!!
"Chain Mail"
Amor Amore Amour
Armor Armour
Chain Mail
l’amour
Read red
Written and worn
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Cancel email came after work
So of course three of us missed it
Other nine stayed off the ice
Comfy in their jammies
Eating sweet warm toast
Watching TV
Annoying
Us Three
Lots
We're in the midst of natures blitz.
An air of mist we're all trying to resist.
It leaves me wondering if I'm alive.
And what I'll do if I survive.
We've lost the best that lived in jest.
He quietly said what we suggest.
A life delivered walkin' around.
Each mail box filled with his earthly sound.
Just where did all his smarts come from.
It sure all added up to a mighty tidy sum.
As we count our blessings now that he's gone.
With our empty hearts filled with so long.
So now I pray that what I say.
May have an ounce of his dismay.
And a pound of his sweet soul.
To hear that sound that makes us whole.
You'd think that I thought he's a God.
Well, yeah, whatever, it's not so odd.
To be in awe of some on earth.
Who seem too good right from their birth.
He's not a saint, he'd say he ain't.
He lived and loved, a song his paint.
An inspiration to find a meaning.
In all that's good, and all that's demeaning.
I could hear him here, sipping his beer.
Stopping to say what's in his heart.
How he's been glad to play his part.
Deliverin' the mail right from the start.
Note: This is in tribute to one of the greats we just lost to this horrific virus. If you've been watching the news, you'll know who he is. He's now up in heaven getting back into show biz. <3 :)
The scent of wet paper flops in my grasping hands.
Careful fingers tear mail open slowly to guard its contents.
A handwritten note from a woman I don't know
flows with sweet meanderings, too delicate to repeat.
Who is she that would lure a faithful wife's husband?
I trusted him with the strength of gold.
Torched like its making,
jealous flames leap my eyes to the return address.
I plan to confront this mistress for their heartless affair.
Quicker than anger surges, my eyes scroll to the middle,
squinting at the rain smudged ink....
Addressed to the neighbors, I shame my hasty accusations.
5-27-2020
Buy ink which remains indelible on the soul
Lick your stamps as they should never lick themselves
Keep envelopes open to suggestions and to be stretched
Hide them in a dry place or pine desk out of trouble
Hold pens gently into the wind or corresponding weather
Leave an impression on the world as you write
Use an eraser but only after midnight
Employ an umbrella over your story
Deploy it in the rain if you compose
Protect your notes while rushing to the mail post
Kill trees only when necessary
Pray they don’t take revenge
Keep rain in buckets one drop at a time
Keep sanity at bay and asteroids at large
Stamp high as bays get wet in rising tides
Write letters with pens untouched by men
Utilize paper snow white and pretty
Mail correspondences twice if suspicious
Use two stamps because you can
Deliver yourself from evil
Let postmen know you are on to them
Send one letter at a time as mail is heavy
Give it time because time is burdensome
Let letters drop while servers do the rest
Wait for a response but don’t hold your breath
Nothing can describe the excitement that I feel.
I hear the soft click as I open my laptop seal.
The whirring of my modem as it chatters online.
My heart is racing as it seems to take a long time.
I am almost speechless as I wait for the solid light.
I've been waiting all day, so I can get online tonight.
The ticking of my hard drive light rapidly blinking.
The feeling deep in my stomach is almost sinking.
I couldn't hardly wait and it made me feel unwell.
I'm almost in static as I hear "You've Got Mail".
-I could not help myself, inspired by Richard and Becca, nicest people you could meet.
-Not written for any contest
-All rights goto the orignal maker of You've got mail and any copyrights are maintained.
The Check is in the Mail
Authored by Chuck Keys
At the beginning there was no rain,
Only the thundering noise and bright bolts of lightning.
The trees and bushes trembled with the cold winds
Pouring sheets of rain soon followed.
The stones and the ground cover cringed,
Everything echoed and shook from the hard driving forces present.
There was no place to run or hide. God
Was making his statement.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
Someone is in pain, searing aching ever increasing pain,
Like the agony of a toothache, thumping, pulsing, thud, thud, thud
Louder and more intense with each breadth
The body and spirit is consumed, tightly wrapped up,
Absorbed in the discomfort of now.
And it's not going away on its own.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
He was stolen, placed in chains,
400 years ago,
Brow beaten from the beginning, in and out
Never allowed to be his own,
Not like whites, he was property, owned and operated
But different non-white, (why are we still talking of color?)
Yet beings we all are.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
We cry for what was taken but can never be returned
Not wanting to be raised above or over,
Wanting not a victory, but delivered equality.
Through love and nonviolence Martin and they forged ahead,
No more waiting for the check in the mail,
But expecting the expected.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm is here and now.
A debt of honor is due,
With the passing of time, where is restitution?
We accept love, education, pride and joy,
We can't accept the hatred of crime, violence,
The lack of housing and work,
Pain never fades on its own.
It needs attention.
God’s values our values,
The one constant, never becomes vague.
Without compromise. Without compromise.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm continues with its blinding rage,
Waiting for an answer, not patiently, but expectantly,
There will be no peace tonight in their lives as in our hearts,
Everything is in play.
Friends , while reading the History of the Incas , I came across the wonderous story of their
mail runners , the 'chasquis' ! Kindly read their story !
THE MAIL RUNNERS - ON THE INCA TRAIL !
(COURIER SERVICE)
The Inca Empire during their hey-days, *
Controlled a large Empire of an elongated
shape!
On the western coast of Latin America, -
All the way from parts of Ecuador and Colombia!
With parts of Brazil in the east;
Including Chile and Bolivia in the south and
south-east;
While the Pacific Ocean washed their long western
beach!
Where the great Andes range like a raised spine, -
appeared out of reach!
Yet on the central verge of this Andes’ range,
Was located their capital Cuzco with its grand
defence !
The Incas had no horses or wheels to facilitate
communication,
But had an efficient courier service within their
nation!
They relied entirely on their ‘chasquis’, - those
valiant mail runners,
For sending messages within the Inca Empire!
These runners ran on that historic ‘Inca Trail’,
Crossing gorges(pogos) and mountain tracks, -
before night fell!
And rested at ‘tambos’** during their segmented
race!
Those Incas had no written scripts those days,
And used knots in ropes as coded messages!
These ‘quipus’ at relay stations changed hands,
While their runners took them to the remotes corners
of Inca land!
Their suspension bridges with ropes indigenously
made,
Formed their roadways as their Empire spread!
And those bridges were maintained every year,
By villagers rendering public service to the Inca
Empire!
Those valiant runners could run in a day, -
A distance of 250 miles , as experts say !
And could put to shame the Marathon runners
of our day!
I salute those sturdy Incas for their unique stone
architectures,
Who honored their Gods and their ancestors!
Their ‘chasquis’, those valiant mail runners and
their nimble feet;
Without horses and wheels the Incas ruled a mighty
Empire complete !
-Raj Nandy
Notes :-
* During the fifteenth century Incas were at height of
their power!
**Tambos’= relay stations , for the Mail Runner (chasqui)
to rest and handover the ‘quipu’ containing coded
messages to the next runner - to follow the Inca Trail!
Thanks for reading ! - Raj Nandy
What can I say
I don't receive it every day
Though I never check it
But once a year
So how would I know
If It was really there
Just like on Facebook as well
I never check my messages
Which irks my daughter to no end
Though I truly must confess
This is also the way of my house
As I watch the messages scroll
And I wonder should I answer it
By the time I figure out if I should
That number is surely gone from sight
It is no big thing to me though
My older sister used to go crazy
She would say how am I suppose
To get a hold of you in an emergency
I'd say because I hear the message
I most always keep the ringer off
Then I had the see through phone
So I just watched the lights go off
Maybe I will check my soup mail
more often than not
I wrote this last night because I checked my soup mail and seen there were 5 messages;
9/ 24- 25/ 12;30am 2012
We await the daily mail delivery with eager anticipation.
Alas, today came another batch of worthless information!
Of course there were the usual bills that arrive without fail,
But where's the check that guy promised would be in the mail?
We've received more return mailing labels than we'll ever use.
How our names got on their mailing lists, I have no clues.
To top it all, a summons for jury duty was today received.
Now that really ruined my day and left me sorely aggrieved!
A startling piece of mail from a realtor wanting to sell the house.
Thinking I had something to do with that really upset my spouse!
A blatant ad from a vinyl siding contractor wanting to make a sell.
Interesting we should receive that since in a brick house we dwell!
Another envelope had alarming news from the local funeral home.
Do they know something we don't know about a trip to the Celestial Dome?
Our life insurance company sent their usual annual birthday greeting,
Breathing a sigh of relief that our hearts are both still beating!
Lord have mercy and deliver us from this onerous perdition!
Curtailing this stuff would certainly improve our disposition.
On the computer I can simply stop such stuff by clicking 'delete'.
Oh, for such a simple system to make junk mail less replete!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
First day on the job, to deliver the mail,I got the nightshift. Ah! Come on!
I drew the job, to drive to the next town, thru The Haunted Forest Prime!
You know the one, yep, The One, used in the famous ‘Wizard of Oz’!
It's Haunted, You Know! As they reminded me so, for the hundredth time!
But Don’t Be Afraid! They said, the truck carries a reliable computer guide.
Those always work, one did smirk. Plus, the truck’s full of ghost fighting gear.
They said Never Fear! Their thoughts would be near! As they’d stay in touch!
They loaded the truck with Holy Water, Not forgetting a ‘blessed silver cross’!
Then came Rabbits foots, silver bullets, and all. Yea! You know, What I mean!
They’d put aboard, all sorts of things considered really good luck, it seems.
Then they piled all the mail into a pouch, Plus more charms, and magic aplenty.
Yea Right! I said, as the sun went down, and the mist rolled out, of the forest!
Oh! Did I state that it’s All Hollow’s Eve, and the veil is thin between worlds!
The prediction is, the Undead from Potters Hill, will be extra bad, they fear!
A new Sorcerer’s in town, and he’s been fooling around, here and everywhere!
Dracula’s here, he’s searching near, he wants Van Helsing’s famous daughter!
But, Rabbit feet don’t save Rabbits, and Wicked Witch’s control lesser magic.
So They said speed is the key. Don’t worry! The little truck reaches twenty-three!
Down hill is best, moving roots can trap and flying monkeys are mean, aplenty.
Plus they put weights on the wheels so I won’t get carried away, near so easily!
But keep foremost, in mind, the credo, you know, ‘The Mail Must Get Thru!’
Be strong in thought and spirit, they sang as they ran to the buildings’ safety as…
Eyes peared out of the forest! What? You thought me, dumb as a box of rocks?
Never fear, My Dear! I took the freeway around it! Oh! And I have a surprise!
Yep! I’m Van Helsing’s Famous Daughter, who’s embarked on this ride!
The trip back will be mine to command! Just think what you’d miss…
If I hadn’t said this… And they’ll be expecting me to come from this side!
So bow your heads, and say a prayer, for my Tri-um-phant trip, My Dears!
And as they say ‘The Mail Must Get Thru!... Well, it will, at least this year!