Best Providing Poems
Eighty two years young, but still a trooper,
pen writes daily, he's an evergreen souper.
Behold the limerick king and his wisdom,
providing laughs from his humorous kingdom.
Five posts a day, one is bound to make you smile,
some a little naughty, but that's his cheeky style.
Long before his Benny Hill transformation,
he was rocking this poetry soup nation.
First post a two thousand and twelve quatrain
about soaring in clouds, free like an air-plane.
Master of many forms, posting poems galore.
Eternal legend within poetry soup folklore.
Yet his talents do not end there, oh no no!
Perfect Santa clone bringing cheer, ho ho ho!
A chess ace whose trapped many kings in checkmate,
but what he really wants is a pretty playmate!
Skilled graphic designer and portrait artist,
but now he claims he's a talented fartist!
Did you know he once played the five string banjo,
with his sweet wife Linda, many moons ago.
The Canadiana Folksingers were his group,
toured the world, but now he's happy with just soup.
This limmerjack, maybe a cheeky chappie,
but he will go out his way to make ya happy.
When you need a laugh to brighten up your day,
go read Jack Ellison, he has so much to say!
The Silent One
29 January 2018
Their candles burnt brightly long ago
Providing for us and watching us grow
But the years passed by and took their toll
And left behind gaps in our soul.
When we were young they were always there
And that they'd be there forever how wrong we were
Old age comes make no mistake
Accepting it is hard to take.
They looked like giants when we were small
Picked us up when we had a fall
When we were upset they wiped our tears
And supported us throughout the years.
Their task now done, we're left behind
And it makes you think that life's unkind
Here today and gone tomorrow
All that is left is pain and sorrow.
But we remember too, those in their prime
Whose candles went out before their time
One thing I know they wouldn't want you sad
Look back and remember the good times that you had.
Times a great healer people often say
But the void that they leave does' not fade away
Their memories live on in our hearts and mind
Comfort it will bring you, that I hope you will find.
Memories do surface from time to time
When you hear a song or even this rhyme
It's dedicated to those who have gone to their rest
And the years they were with us were surely the best.
( I composed this poem for a recent family reunion dedicating it to our parents and younger members of the family who have gone to their rest.)
Written 7th November 2017
For Your Best Poem Ever Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Chantelle Ann Cooke.
I stood on the step by the unopened door
Far from the meadows that precede the shore
Grasped tight the railing I longed to explore
Searching for truth in the lies
Looked at the mat as it welcomed me in
Wondering when all of this would begin
Washed up and worried and covered in sin
One that the world would despise
Juggled a dish after dropping the spoon
Spotlights were shining, they lit up the room
Still not enough for this unending doom
Praying the end would be near
Paced cross the stage as the audience stared
Thinking I saw one who looked like she cared
Checking my pockets for things that I shared
Knowing not what I might hear
Then like a siren but quieter still
Came forth a voice that presented a thrill
When on my spine formed the funniest chill
Just as she called out my name
Chris, was the echo, a melodic song
I have been waiting for you for so long
Something like this surely cannot be wrong
I don't care who is to blame
I took her hand and my heart skipped a beat
Who would have thought that an angel I'd meet
Me, oh so sour and her, oh so sweet
She must have come from above
Then I awoke with a yawn layered scream
Only a nightlight providing the gleam
All of this poem was merely a dream
Waking before I found love
I no longer search my memory
I no longer use my pride
I've loss the desire for liberty
I no longer speak for life
What I've said hundreds of times
I'll repeat no more
Time has had it's passage
and totaled up the score
Love has used it's powers
both human and Divine
untold endless hours
dedicating my creative mind
I've suffered the tears while writing
when injustice and love were fighting
Discribed the beauty I saw
with God's intentions totaled in awe
These are words of an empty shell
The mother of peril still shinning
pausing slowly here and there
with rhyming still providing
The old ghost it still lives
relationship more take than gives
imagined love unmasked as doubt
the weapon of fantasy I now live without
I created once a world to inspire
filled it full with realities desires
never once believing I was a liar
just another member of a silent chior
poetic eyes gone blind with time
loss of perceptions creative eye's
I now lie buried with a motor of rust
A poetic heart I no longer trust
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
SONNET FOR KELLY
The Spring has come a little late this year
Siberian winds and rain have chilled the soul
Though calendar proclaimed that April’s here
No tiny leaves yet rimmed the Elm tree bole *
But One brought inner Spring to heart and mind
And raised the spirits strength to face our chore
Providing us a warmth for which we pined
Then gave us boost that we might start to soar
With raven hair and sparking ebon eye
A glittering jewel on grey cold cloth she shon
Then life here was revived till by and bye
The long awaited Spring gave a new dawn
So we’ll recall long after our departs
How she allayed the cold and warmed our hearts
April 2018
* Reference to Robert Browning poem: ‘Home thoughts from abroad’
Do you know what brought the wind into the world my Love...
the wind is the speeding breath of God's heart
the very air of his soul that carries the desire of creation
through the universe to your lips
seeking expression in the fire of your freedom,
he wants to find his Goddess
the part of himself that he lost to the sea of chaos
when life insisted that independence would lead to grace,
God has been looking for his Queen
for longer than the stars have cried behind the blue of day,
he knows that she is alive somewhere
preparing her body for his solar entry
and providing asylum for the passion of their poetry
believing that he can reach her through the distance and sadness -
J.A.B.
“Thin, I think, that fabric between realities. Maybe minds aren't lost. Maybe they just slip through and find a different place to wander.” - C.J. Tudor
~
oh, I shan't yet, my dear father, find
disease has robbed him of his mind
he works hard, grasping from the air
some careful tasks that are not there
most life, his world was quite exact
no straining id - no questioned tact
integrity worth cheers and boasts
Vs though now he sits engaging ghosts
he walked a road that’s naught but true
and strived for all things great men do
his loved ones’ welfares - always first
providing needs through best and worst
his partner, church, his town and friends
placed ‘fore himself, what he’d defend
through his devotion, work and fun
of enemies - I’ve known NOT ONE.
it's odd that I can I count it strange
but not once did he find that range
to laud a thing that gave me pride
(or boost the dreams I kept inside)
I strained thru life to reach this man
some common ground to understand
but while I’d begged to be his friend
too great our difference, in the end
I'll not e’er know this man, you see
though none I love quite dear as he
but as our bond, at best, was rough
he’d taught me love by being tough
so now his wit and poise have flown
the grandest man I’ve never known
no grace is left him, this goodbye
no answers, mine, the question …
why?!?
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Writing Challenge 2, July 2019 - Melancholy" Poetry Contest, Dear Heart, Judge & Sponsor.
The Real McCoy
Androids Humanoid- Robotic Robots
Feel them- touch them- real life fembots
Soulless secretions a monster metallic
A copy completion approaching organic
Interacting in all moods they are set to please
Sub servant or vampish programmed to tease
Favoured by lust as love turns into dust
A bodacious bust that someday will rust
Providing human like- company for men
Discard them-Leave them- again and again
Love in a box the new carnal cosmetic clocks
She shakes and she rocks and even dirty talks
Hearts made of steel- don’t get broken
Yours for the picking- Destiny has spoken
She strikes a pose as you take off her clothes
No need for a rose as you undress and expose
Alas for us ladies the future is bleak
Emotions are replaced- no more to speak
A disheartened Delilah a gratifying Lady Godiva
Unleashing a metal messiah a pandemic pariah.
Aug.24.2017
Collab with a dear friend from down under...(((Maria Williams)))
Thank you, Maria, for your exchange of words and poetic dance...it was great fun to collab with you...let's do it again soon...
Sweeter than nectar
More succulent than honey dew
Reminiscent of all that I adore
I long for the taste of you
Like a tall glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day
Or the cool April rain that tumbles down in May
I long for the taste of you
Like providing sustenance that quenches her thirst
After long lonely drought has famished our beloved mother earth
I long for the taste of you
Like springs first showers encouraging flowers to bloom
Cultivating my soil, your nourishment is consumed
I long for the taste of you
Like being drawn to your flame like a moth to a fire
Mesmerized by your flames
It’s a burning desire
I long for the taste of you
Like missing you before your gone and hoping that you’ll stay
Like smelling the sweetness of your skin
Even when your miles away
I long for the taste of you
Like reaching a never ending, peak of ecstasy
Like felling your love deep inside me
I long for the taste of you
Like looking into your eyes as you look back into mine
When we make love it’s always as precious as our first time
Like the calm after the storm when our bodies intertwine.
That’s why
I long for the touch, for the taste
For the your presence
For the essence of you
Form:
Seems no matter where I go
I hear the winds of revolution blow
stirring the souls that don’t understand
these whispers start from the mind of a man
Who seeks for himself his own private gain
Though he won’t sacrifice one moment of pain
Asking instead that others be giving
Providing the life HE dreams of living
“Donate your money so I won’t be poor
forfeit your life so I’ll enjoy mine more”
“Go and die
that I might cry
Over your casket as if I cared
But to tell the truth doesn’t matter to me
Left or right
Which side I hold
I’ll gladly trade your life for gold”
Through the manipulation of others they take their pride
Changing history in the hope they hide
The sins they’ve committed and the way they’ve lied
They’re all the same doesn’t matter the side
They love it most to feed off your fears
same old story for thousands of years
They don’t care about you
not for one single minute
Your cash and themselves
are the reason they’re in it
8/18/2021
You have my voice that sings
My eye’s that love to see
My heart beating when it believes
My hand writing poetry of what should be
My steps walking boldly thinking of thee
My minds consumption of
vast amounts of time
My work that tries providing
Any attention that I can find
A victim of love
Happily and sadly am I
I am like Samson
Believing every lie
Being like Romeo
I’d surely die
What a substance is love
As reachable as the sky
With fears and rejection
That might cause my demise
My childish suffering
This disease called shy
Yet monotheistic my soul
Itself cries
Day after day this feeling
Will not die
Only one half of what
God says am I
Could you go with us,
My God and I
Could you put your hand under my thigh
Let me promise before I die
The climb of the mountian
That reaches your sky
I love the night,
wandering in wide tranquil countryside,
in the dim light of the pinhead stars,
with their intricate constellations,
a nocturnal symphony that helps give directions
to wayward hitchhikers that roam in off course pathways.
I love the night,
imbibing the perfumes of the ambrosial countryside.
The newly cut hay, the wayside fragrant flowers,
all covered with a fine dew
spreading delicate exquisite odors in country meadows.
I love the night.
In the open vistas,
where all daily cares just fade away,
like wispy steam from a far off train.
A soft music can be heard behind thick hedges,
but be aware, think not of the ugly resonance
that go bump in the night.
I love the night.
The winking owls hoot in lament,
grasshoppers sing in close-mouthed consent,
soggy frogs give an occasional harsh croak,
but birds sleep happily on lofty trees.
Isn't it a wonderful place to be?
Thank you, God for providing me the night.
When among friends
trust is sacred
It is the glue that binds our souls
and makes everyone know
that they are loved
To break trust
is to split water
an evil incarnate
But to renew trust
when one has faltered
is so difficult and challenging
Though it can be done
for providing trust
is the same as saying
I love you
The main purpose of life is to live rightly, think rightly, act rightly. The soul must languish when we give all our thought to the body.
Mahatma Gandhi
___________________________________________
Winter is a suitable time to savor,
Silent, quite starving for, my only flavor.
Quiet seclusion enhances my languish,
Providing pause, meditation, and favor.
Frozen days of chilly nip raise my anguish,
Apply comfy sheets, light for cold to vanquish.
A dreadful bulk of cloud and a brisk breeze,
Inspire sloth in a book respite, prankish.
Beautifully arching shrubs and trees,
A ballet of nature's dreams and appease.
White feathers tumble to the soil below,
As sapphire shines, emerald first wheeze.
Fumes in chimneys coil, merge, and grow,
I burn a recollection as shadows undergo.
Crystal-clear river, frozen pearls, pristine,
Wind gusts at dusk in a cold stream flow.
It's peaceful in my heart and serene,
And mesmerized by the gorgeous scene.
Calm and eased by the stark lightness.
Winter is when I languish, purify, and shrine.
Indigo optimism overlays placid rightness,
Potent nature pride ethereal brightness.
A lovely mix of purple haze made it lighter,
Insignia aesthetic—only ebbing politeness.