Best Pass To Poems
IF DEATH SHOULD VISIT ME TODAY
Whether young or old and gray
As earthly life is swept away
Please do not mourn, do not be sad
Just think of joy yet to be had.
Set loose from flesh- forever free
To sail a calmer, endless sea
Eternity, my newfound home
Within which I will freely roam
Inside a greater spirit shell
For then my soul will grow and dwell
Upon the peace, I will collect.
But most of all, you must reflect
We'll meet again in time, my dears
In other worlds- in other years
Beyond the light of cosmic ray
Beyond the sight of human clay
IF DEATH SHOULD VISIT ME TODAY
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Funeral, Eulogy, or Memorial Service Poem
Sponsor: Team PoetrySoup
Judged: 07/02/2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: Any Sad Poem
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/03/2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: The Last Love Letter
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
September 24, 2014
This is a reversible poem (can be read up or down) that I wrote years ago,
and which will be a part of MY eulogy when I pass, to help my loved-ones
cope with knowing that I will be okay.
Thank you
How I keep saying
Deep gratitude showing
Generosity, kindness, beauty
The wonder and joy of giving..
What would I consider or measure
The value of what is received, the feeling of pleasure
Unable to weigh or count
What is given, a flowing fount..
Thank you
A word too much used and said
Nothing equal back could be paid
Just the sweet taste in hearts we pass to mankind
And a legacy for Humanity of being good and kind..
Thank you
How I keep believing
In words converted to true feeling
In genuine souls to my worries kindly listening
My pain enduringly wiping..
Thank you
One of God’s many a blessing
The gift of gratitude for which I keep praying
Recognition I keep showing
To those who paved the way for the grace of living
To all those who filled my whole with smiles
And my dark chambers with light
So as I could reach the warmth of Hope and Faith inside..
Thank you
Over and over I would say
To people of God
And to the Almighty I would pray
As I recall more than one sign and call
Nothing should be in life for granted taken
To meet life twists, the heart toughen..
Thank you
So much in life I owe
To who caringly appeased my fear
Patiently lent an attentive ear
Lovingly brightened a gloomy atmosphere
Humanely bore my weakness and what I shed of tear..
Thank you
Of what life brings am in awe
Despite my perception of its limitation and flaw
Tolerance and acceptance I keep fostering
Allow peace and bliss my inner self illuminating
And only the wonders of good in Humanity I keep seeing
With a strong belief in sharing, caring and giving..
Thank You
Of bud bossed delicate; in its aroma much will enfold!
The turbulence of youth; also the seasoned and the old.
Tetra pedes, cross pages, sober.. in black, throughout the ages
Oh! to pass to others this understanding; and in bold.
Manifold are images, ‘thrusting now fresh into flower,
To awareness, of precious cargo; as in life’s laden bower...’
Penta metron sketch outlines, though imperfectly employed;
I reach to the stars today; as yet passes my hour!...
Translucence shows within the fading of life’s colour
As this continuing expressive awaits its turn, of another!..
My thoughts fill like pages, to blossoms in bloom
A soft falling, as petals; to your earth, my sister & brother...
To re-count of life’s possibility's... in the Rubaiyat form;
Melding its grandeur; to the bland magnitude of today’s norm!
Opening in its intricacy, the doorway to ecstasy
Playing many a cadence, relayed from its echoes borne.
Ever may its blossoms & completeness be flowering,
Entwining with the lines of the sages, to forever cling!
Refreshing the heart; perhaps a world? now tired and worn.
To a climax of prosody, does this weave of true praises sing.
© Joe Maverick.co.uk
I have added notes in the ‘To know more about this poem area’.
Just like football I am waiting ,
on the side line,
To go up on the field,
Yes we are playing Goodooga,
Aboriginal big guys, tough as steel.
Here comes Albert racing faster,
Trotting down the bloody wing,
Gotta stop him, take him head on,
Hit his ankles, the hurting thing .
Fell him like a big old tree,
Pot belly lands on me ,
I’m a still a seeing stars,
Shadow sparring,
all round me ,
Get up you silly Galah.
So there I was out on the wing ,
Waiting for a pass to me.
Intercept, Albert's a coming ,
he passes ball, dodges see .
Just a few of broken arms,
Black eyes worn with pride.
Rugby Leage what a battle ,
Carry the ball through the other side.
Running for the other goal,
Sidestepped Albert, got there see.
Not a bloody forward pass, (illegal)
Planted it between the trees.
At 17 I was in an interstate game,
between Dirranbandi n Goodooga, we lost. (shame)
How hope still clings in the maze of youth,
though a vessel so tender,
not yet cured, apt to blow in the wind
as a ripened daisy,
a fledgling ----
too much a babe for a serpent's wile;
A helping hand awaits in the arms of time,
where moments pass to eternity,
the winds are hushed with reprieve,
always,
there is a friend staring to dawn
From love roars the mightiest wind,
of a warmth most enduring,
The rose sifts most sweet
in youthful shallows,
not deep of a withered old;
ere anger is bred and seasoned,
tamed to mother's ease,
The old man forgets, the harridan scoffs
while the child rides the winds
of rosy-dawns and soft remembrance,
somehow, the ancient are redeemed
Let love speak her tender tongue,
atop mountains too aloft for wicked ears,
Soothe she the weeping wayward,
the broken bone, fevers ungodly;
though she is mysterious to the ignorant,
confounds the tyrant in his self-genius ----
only God could know her name,
whispered infinite
(she is love)
** Excerpt from my epic ' The Blood of the Prophets'
(unfinished as of yet)**
This coin depicting a head of man with laurel
is a rare treasure from the American History,
as an auctioneer I could sell it for a large
sum of money: its estimated price is over
two-thousand-dollars, it shows it was minted
in eighteen-ninety-four, come forward and bid!
I found it among pennies I saved for rainy days,
there must be at least four thousand of them;
my collection includes contemporary silver dollars,
many generations must pass to accumulate value...
any other collector would action them any day!
I jealously hold onto them to own a piece of History:
how they glitter in glass cases on my walls!
I may donate them to the American History
Museum in Manhattan and see them on display!
Many auctioneers would love to get hold of my silver coin,
their mind is set solely on greed, not thinking of its history
which can unravel fascinating details about of its minting process;
the unknown artisan was very skilled in itching date and image
on both sides to testify the greatness and wealth of this nation,
but Americans don't realize that they are very wealthy indeed!
It’s that time of year again
when lights are strung, wreaths are hung
and glass balls in every color and shape dangle,
sparkling from evergreen branches
in homes, displayed in front windows
with plastic Santas, (some waving)
standing in Styrofoam snow
for all who pass to see
Department stores are all a shimmer
with sweaters and mittens
lining shelves in themes of red and green,
as illumined reindeer hover overhead
the frantic shopping crowds while
sales clerks wear red pointed hats
with white furry balls atop
City streets are draped in
silver and gold glistening garland,
offering season’s greetings
as even traffic lights seem festive
with “Jingle Bells” blaring from
car stereos through open windows
inviting the cold air in
And I chuckle,
not in a bad way, perhaps in a selfish way
for you see, I know that this is me,
no matter what time of the year it is
because my heart is decorated
with the most beautiful ornament
I could ever find…your love
And every day is Christmas to me…
Written for The Heart of Christmas poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
- Idull is a free pass to peace of mind - quote from poet
When peach colors swell in the evening sky
an moment in a spiral of color
Sharing my adventures in the silence
In my smallness between heaven and earth
a silent song becomes a symphony
I admitting my inadequacy
behind the curtain of humility
It falls as jewels on my path tonight
Idyllically near eternity
wish to hold on to this flawless moment
From time to time I find myself staring into the heavens lit by our stars
The elders spoke of each star having its name, and how God knew the all by it
At a very young age I grew much interest in adventure, to be an explorer of such
Dream after dream, a huge imagination for images costed no money, dreams of much
I lived by my creativity and will to be strong
Not many believed in me
Some of which even put me down, stateing that I was worth nothing
With a shattered heart I saw the days evolve into night
Patiently awaiting the sight of the first star
Dropping to my knees making a wish upon the first star in view
Who would know that the stars grant no wish
My first language was spanish
Not a single word of english or french I spoke
Growing up in grade school, I was the cause of many jokes
I had not much but a few rags that I kept clean as best to my ability
Shoes with holes made my month
None mattered because the love I searched was not of school but of my own home
Always been so different
A mind of a genius
The will of a warrior
But the love of...
When the tide is high swim not
For a tormented sea might just never return you
I play guilt
Guilt I know not for I made it as best I could
Sing me a song that I may sing to
Paint me a portrait so that I too may loose in the form and color
Write me a poem so that I may see it play
Pardon me for not being what you wanted me to be
Pardon me for being me
I hope one day you may forgive my life
I meant no disrespect, what did I ever do to you
You abused me and stomped on my heart
You punched my soul right out
I'm sorry for not being you
And I pass to find my joy
I will live to meet my future
This one is for you dad
Remember the Promise
Garden gates slammed shut
Tears of shame upon grieving cheeks
Orphans looking back through barred gates
Hear the promise – Messiah – Emmanuel.
Remember the promise.
Apocalyptic storm
Contract to build a haven for life
Sanctuary tossed upon fury driven waves
Covenant in rainbows arching colors.
Remember the promise!
Dreams upon the desert
Watch the morning pass to midnight
Generations like stars beyond your sight
Laughter swaddled in your arms.
Remember the promise!
A pledge of freedom
From plagues and locusts sent
Challenges footsteps to climb the sacred mountain
I Am signature written in stone.
Remember the Promise!
Shepherd slinging stones
Kings and giants give up their crowns
To reign forever from generation to generation
Man after the everlasting heart.
Remember the promise!
Promise never broken -
Living breathing covenant
Eternal promise in two nail scarred hands
King and prophet - brother, friend.
Remember the promise!
5/31/20
Contest: Promise
“To ponder is to wander-
midst memories and yonder.”
__by Poet
I oft ride down my dear memory lane-
recalling those that filled up special years,
to ponder, safeguard those which I retain-
that show my smiles still winning over tears.
I do remember childhood days with joy,
and, reminiscing on my family,
I recollect the ways they helped employ
to shape my life- then pass to me the key.
Nostalgically, I search in retrospect
and call to mind the gifts I leave behind
reflecting all the ways I could connect
accepting strength to foster peace of mind.
I ponder life as I look through this scope-
expand their gifts of love, with faith, and hope.
in the sands
Of life kissing you
Leaves footprints
A warm kiss
Smiling inside
I pass to you
form one soul
As sunshine colours
A bouquet rainbow
So pretty
in the sky
Kissing angel tears
Falling mist
Venus who loves you
Worshiping
a smiling sun
Life blood
of our being
Warmth in
her embrace
Smiling master
of light
My beautiful cupid
Kissing golden rays
You are my sunshine
Reflections of you
A sparkling within
The heart of Venus
Who will forever
love you
Wrapped up
in your blanket
One of love
into the distant horizon
A setting
vision
You are my light
One shining
beauty
Poiseidon's waters roil and roar
Up and down the craggy coast;
Their winedark waves have brought the host
Of foreign men all drunk for glory,
For the sake of one man's vanity
They traveled to your alien shore
To write with blood and bone a story
Of the Gods' capriciousness towards men,
Of passion's triumph over sanity
Which they shall repeat: again, again.
The men will surge against your city walls
Ten long and doleful years;
Your children, born to violence, shriek, widows' tears
Appeal to you, their hero Prince,
To drive them back to whence they came
As your father walks the palace halls,
As does his shade now, ever since -
Ever since you went to face the foe
To pass to time your noble name,
Their legend and their martyr, hope, and woe.
It was asked by what Creed you chose to live
Before you fell to Fates' perversity,
Before their undeserving Champion dragged you 'round the city.
"Honor the Gods", you said, cruel though they may be.
"Defend your Country", you said, though it be doomed.
"Love your Women", you said, as only they can give
Meaning to the madness from across the sea.
Your father forced to beg your battered corpse; so many dead,
Their faces still now, 'neath the swaying plumes
Of shining helmets, others waiting in their stead.
"Honor the Gods
Defend your Country
Love your women."
- Oh you grey heads who start your wars for Pride,
Go ask Andromache's ghost
What it meant to her.
Fear recalled; the taste of sweat in retreat, when
one can never seem to run far enough or fast enough.
Remembering the Christian children’s chants of
devil worshiper, atheist; the taunting hell they saw
for those not blessed to be themselves.
The jeer of the crowd for those apart, the mob
mentality of the Christian heart, the damn you if
you’re not me to a girl of eight, defies any amount
of time to heal. Memories are not obliterated.
Breathless behind a hollow-core door, gasping
tears, a heart pounding to the beat of fists on panel;
fear recalled as bile rose; hate thrown, the Jew bated.
This was only an inkling of what Tanta felt.
Nineteen fifty-six, eleven years after the end of WWII,
I saw the numbers burned into my families’ skin,
the ones still alive to show them to a child of eight.
-broken glass nights, crowded trains, death camps
New England was still gripped in a Christian hell,
at eight, at twelve, at eighteen—and every Christmas
in between—don’t speak, don’t tell, don’t let them
know you’re different—different, hated, taunted,
chased, and if possible erased.
Prejudice knows no boundary of time or place, the
fear, the mob, the gang, the chanting group, alive
still in the 21st century. When you kneel, and pray,
even when you say Amen.
First Published by Synchronized Chaos Spring 2015
MOMBASA
Full moon uneasiness
Veranda dining, seven course style,
One day after my thirty sixth birthday,
I dine alone, in a poem.
Waiting for the Moon to pass to wane
and contemplate for Zanzibar, in vain. . .
MARATHON
Leawa Downs Marathon
Elevation 6000ft.
Elephants graze in the foreground
Campers camp, Samburu chant
Hyena’s WHoop Whoop whoop
5 A.M. Army alarm wake-up
The brown dust rises
and runners move in
Fluid motion
In the African Day
Building a Country Together
Blowing in the wind . . .
MASI MARA
Descending into the Rift Valley
Baby nephew Dylan sings along
to the Beatles. Masi heard their cattle in
Red blankets and colored beads.
Sitting under the tree of knowledge,
Different universes under one sky.
MASI RAIN
The pounding rain of the Mara
Post safari, I sit in my tented camp
Five Star style and naked.
Rain Dancing on canvas:
Rain Song of Hyena Laughing,
Hippo bellowing,
The baritone of the Wildebeest,
The tree Frogs low hiccup.
I will shower in the hot rainwater
for eternity
Sit on the Queen bed of honeymooners
And wish you were here.
Whoever you are. . .