Best St Thomas Poems
I got out my pipe and stuffed it with pot,
You better believe, it held a whole lot.
I whipped out a lighter and thumbed up a flame,
Then sucked down that smoke which comforts my brain.
I tried alcohol; and smoked cigarettes,
Though, they did nothing, but give me regrets.
My mom had arthritis and couldn't walk around.
When I rolled her a joint, she danced on the ground.
I thought I was losing my lovemaking knack,
But, after I smoked some, to me it came back.
Soon I decided prices were too high,
So I searched for some ground I wouldn't have to buy.
I bargained for seeds from smokers all around,
Then, got in my truck and drove out of town.
I walked through the woods where the wild birds nest,
And found me the meadow I thought was the best.
I dug up the ground and sowed all my seeds;
Then said a small prayer for strong, healthy weeds.
I watered at night with a five-gallon pail;
The mosquitoes went hungry for I wore a veil.
Eight months went by; I thought I would die,
'Till the Halloween moon was high in the sky.
One night I went out, in my camouflage suit,
And used a corn knife to chop down the loot.
I hung it up to dry where it couldn't be found.
Then came back and got it, when it had turned brown.
I trimmed off the buds, and stuffed them in bags,
Called all my friends and passed out free drags.
In less then a week, my crop was gone!
But, I flew to St. Thomas with love-hungry blond.
stupendous silhouette of castle
piercing through hazy fog
reminds me of your shadow
as you come to meet me at twilight
mixed hues of spectral sky
reflected in dreamy water
in furrowed thick impasto
of amber and sandstone
are glowing ember
of your undying love.
Notes: Claude Monet painted a series of impressionist oil paintings of the Palace of Westminster, home of the British Parliament, in the autumn of 1899 and the early months of 1900 and 1901 during stays in London. All of the series' paintings share the same viewpoint from Monet's window or a terrace at St Thomas' Hospital overlooking the Thames and the approximate canvas size of 81 cm × 92 cm (32 in × 36 3/8 in).They were, however, painted during different times of the day and weather conditions. This one was during sunset. ( Photo and reference credits to Wikipedia).
20 May 2021
For "All Yours ( May 20) Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
Incomprehensible are the
Petty landmarks that linger in a person's life
It happened so long ago
That I'm surprised I still remember.
In St. Thomas' parochial school
When Sister Elizabeth held a ruler
In her pale white hands
Any signs of mercy
Mysteriously vanished from her blue eyes
Religion was her weapon
Corporal punishment it's end
Fueled by frustration
She held the class
In fear.
Every school day
Was a grey morning
Of my longing to be somewhere else
Standing by the door
In a robe
Of darkest wool
Sister Elizabeth counted us in
One by one
As we walked in silence
Hair combed
Little backs held straight.
From her glance
The message was clear
Grade school was not about deep thoughts
Or clever ideas
Originality was not in vogue
It was about small things
That grown-ups winked at
And often ignored
Issues, important as the color of beige.
One dull morning
I whispered to a classmate
When I shouldn't have
Called to the front by Sister Elizabeth
I was given the ultimate punishment
The ruler and then some
In her capable hands my palms were lacerated
When I cried out
She turned my hands over
Until my knuckles bled
Darkening the cuffs of my white shirt.
That evening my mother cried at my bruises
And my father uttered a string of curses
Long into the night
True
Sister's time was not easy
Teaching mindless brats
Such as myself
Only added to her
Disappointment.
Over the years
Attitudes changed
Commitments weakened
And Sister, childless and alone, realized
Much too late
That her days of sacrifice and Catholicism
Chastity and prayer
Had been a life against nature.
Even now my hands cringe
To a fist
When someone holds a ruler
For the wounds are marked deep
In memory.
You've heard of a "Dream" vacation,
well that's what I'm gonna do.
My wife and I on a cruise ship,
which to us is nothing new.
This will be the ninth straight year
that we've gone on a seven day cruise.
Of all the vacation options I have,
it's the one I always choose.
The name of the ship is Carnival "Dream",
the largest in their fleet.
So it's my "Dream" vacation in more ways than one,
which I think is pretty neat.
The first stop will be in Nassau,
a Bahama paradise.
Next will be St. Thomas (V.I.)
I've already been there twice.
The next stop is St. Maarten.
It'll be my third time there.
Even though I've been before,
it's so lovely, I don't care.
At these three stops, I'll just relax,
don't really do that much.
I may go ashore and look around,
shop a bit and see the sights and such.
For the many attractions the ship offers,
I just can't say enough.
Excellent shows and things to do,
to top them would be tough.
This is my "Dream" vacation,
I always look forward too.
It's the most relaxed I ever get,
there's nothing I'd rather do.
Part One
“The Kurral owes much of its popularity to its exquisite poetic form. A kurral is a couplet containing a complete and striking idea expressed in a refined and intricate metre. No translation can convey an idea of its charming effect. […] The brevity rendered necessary by the form [composed in the Venpa metre] gives an oracular effect to the utterances of the great Tamil ‘Master of the sentences.’ They are the choicest of moral epigrams. […] Tiruvalluvar is generally very simple, and his commentators very profound.”
Rev. G.U. Pope, Former Fellow of Madras University
[Pardon these futile measly words from your great Potiya height: they can hardly belittle your true worth.]
Under what leaky hutment roof by stamped-mud floors
trembling clair-oscuro straw-wick kuttuvilakku
on the stark anvil of crisp phrase and sparse syntax
by the raging nama-nir rhyming brine
at Mayilapur’s S.Thomé sandy doors
while peacocks danced to your innate pulsating chimes
have you chipped away at uncut gems
Those the Yavanas brought with the monsoons
or such as your sea-daring captain friend Elela-Cinkan’s
Even those the Christian missionaries preached
in daredevil enticement
after St.Thomas fell to a vel stuck in his bosom
or of those like you who were stamped underfoot
Caste in cast-iron strictures
Priest only to the proclaimer paraiyar drum-beaters
The warp and woof of intricately woven venpa verse
elevating your weaving clan to fresh artistic heights
YET
in the humbled ways of your birth
on whose steps have you pitched your ears
whose wisdom have you had to pilfer
filter
whose ways have you had to ape
whose mere thoughts have you then had to set aright
ennoble
and remould into inextinguishable lines
Or had you tread the ahimsa path of gentle-foot Jains
Treading gently the earth for fear of loping boot pains
(Continued in Part Two)
When the sun looks into darkness
upside down cowboy's lend a hand to chaos
deserters of faith rejecting lawful behaviour
Persuading bodies believing something good is created from lies
deceit has no value with an opinion against the truth
a human right has been violated by treachery
When the freedom of speech has been tampered with manipulating senses
an unjust law is no law at all, words of St Thomas Aquina's
not a single word defends the innocent today
When judges support blood sacrifice
crime is their legal reality and argument
putting your hands out to help someone in dire need
Condemns them guilty of a crime how is this just
hate has taken over justice to speak properly directed
their convictions are the evidence unto the fact detailed
To what authority do they stand to plea
in the case that is put before them unless ordained otherwise
lending an ear to the wise in the Spirit of listening
How one learns from life's lessons
I am only a beggar like everyone else pleading for His Mercy
the evils of mankind not wishing to upset a single soul
Deep
turquoise
clear water
tropical isle
waves on white sand beach and cocoanut trees
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Theme ~ Magen's Bay
St. Thomas, Virgin Islands
Lin Lane ~ December 6th 2015
Language of Water Contest
Sponsor ~ Nette Onclaud
Henry the V111 was an English king although he got
Married' boys were more his thing' he destroyed the
Tomb of st thomas abecket, ordering grind those bones
And just go wreck it ' with tomb duly desecrated the
The fat king gloated.' I know this was very savage.' By
The divine?? yet bloated ( all was well in his own mind) His objectives
Were accomplished and all was fine.' He killed some
Wives and others survived.' And some other people he had boiled
Alive..All in all a true historical tale.' Best not dwelt upon too
Often.? Its so beyond the pale.'
"Cherish is the word I use to describe
All the feeling that I have
Hiding here for you inside...."
--lyric from "Cherish" by The Association
writer: Kirkman Terry
In the innermost depths of my being
Vacation moments seldom ever shared.
Nestled amongst the dearest cherished times,
Memories carried with me, neatly tucked
Inside, loving moments I cherish most,
Experiences never repeated
In this lifetime and, perchance, nevermore
We so enjoyed traveling together.
Scaling the high points of Pinnacle Rock,
Then, we laid on the sands in Antigua,
Watched Arenal blow in Costa Rica
Embarked on the stern of the Fantasy
Holding my hand above St. Thomas Bay
Your sweet kiss in old Puerto Vallarta.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written March 30, 2021
For "Cherish" Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
A Sonnet in Blank Verse, 10 syllables per line
Checked with "How Many Syllables"
Recently, I awoke
from a very specific dream--
In which I expressed
my getting-a-B.A. scheme
A long-time ambition
I've put on the back-burner
Delayed because I'm not
much of a wage-earner
It'd be easier to succeed
with a B.A. under my belt?
Hard to get there
with low self-esteem (as I've felt)
Plus it'd make my outlook on life
more well-rounded
Even if all that online study
makes me feel grounded
But as for a potential professional job
without a degree
I'm looking into Indexing --
might be just right for me!
Then if I can support my education
financially that way
I hopefully will join the ranks
of B.A. grads someday...
Whether or not I go after
this accomplishment, I will age
The question is, by that time,
do I wish to be more sage?
But I tend to get discouraged
and distracted; so no promise
Perhaps I can enlist
the smarty-pants prayers of St. Thomas
He's the classic busiest bummed bee,
Work members close enough not to swallow,
Some business pursues far from his body,
Their thoughts cease, naught his, she always, follow.
She soar the skies as her duty's promise,
Perpetuity o'er her trusting beau,
White feathers sure faith like St. Thomas,
Stinger pleased tradeoff for wings, ... love to ... grow.
Since their first meet, a love story is told,
Distant and flighty, not really quite so,
Sweetest start, bitter end, somber bells tolled,
Never dare edit just best left to glow.
Romantic readers love its status quo,
Shakespeare best, “Juliet and Romeo.”
Left just one chance
to gild the night
One kiss,
… before you leave
8th Grade Poetry Contest
St Thomas Of Villanova Grade School
May, 1962
Locked in a room his friends were afeared
When Jesus rose again and appeared.
“My peace be with you
for I'm making you new.”
It was the Lord they knew and revered.
But because he hadn't been there
then Thomas the twin did declare,
“If I am to believe
to the wounds I must cleave
to know if it's true or a scare”
Again Jesus appeared a week later,
with Thomas right there, a spectator.
“My wounds reach toward – “
“My God, it's the Lord!”
He found peace and became a believer
John 20.24-29
“This circus is falling…”
It’s circa 1997; I’m in Charlotte, NC
It’s a 13-week consulting gig, my longest ever
I come home every few weeks
Long days at the customer site
A hostile environment;
they don’t really want us there
A server vendor is trying to make inroads at a bank
I’m there working for the vendor
After a long day, a swing by Harris Teeter:
pre-packaged dinner and beer
“The big top is crumbling down”
And so is my life
Evenings are spent
hunched over a laptop
in a dark 1 bedroom efficiency
Programming late into the night
Until the eyes are too tired
And the beer has run out
Music is a constant companion,
most of it, soulful, sorrowful, some upbeat.
Counting Crows, Matchbox 20, Sting
“These train conversations”
Are truly passing me by
No coworkers here.
No family here
No interactions with anyone outside of work
Just a call home early enough in the evening
that the words aren’t slurring too badly yet
“And I don’t have nothing to say”
Just ache
I want to be home
I miss my wife
I miss my kids
I miss my dog
“You get what you pay for”
They are paying me well
I’m getting all the overtime I want.
I am piling away the money for a nice trip to St. Thomas
For all of us
When I get home
And I don’t care; I just want out
“But I just had no intention of living this way”
Warp forward to today
Life could not be any more different
Life is wonderful, life is good
I have purpose
I have meaning
I have family
I have love
I know and am known by God
I’m working out in the barn
I’ve hooked up the old stereo
I see the “August and Everything After” CD and I fire it up
I set it on “Raining in Baltimore”
“I need a phone call, I need a plane ride
I need a sunburn, I need a raincoat”
And for a brief flash,
I am back at that dinette table
Alone, in the dark
And terribly lonely
When it is uplifting, music causes our spirits to soar
But it can put you right back
in a particular place
In a particular time
And that’s not always a good thing
“But what would you change if you could?”
Uh, August and Everything After…
click.
————
Quotes are from “Raining in Baltimore” off the
“August and Everything After” album by Counting Crows
Left just one chance
to gild the night
One kiss
—before you leave
8th Grade Poetry Contest
St Thomas Of Villanova Grade School
May, 1962