Best Staffs Poems
The libertine flails his torches
Burning staffs in his hands aglow
Golden sparks from the kindle beseech you
To dance on flames that he throws
For he is a man they call Passion
No soul has escaped what he's sowed
Good bye to innocence
Only embers are left where he's roamed
Good bye to innocence
We all dance on the coals he calls love.
He is the thief we call Ardor
He spins plumes of turquoise and gold
Challengers fall, all are smitten
By warm sultry nights and moon glow
Behind his mask love is yearning
To break free of seductions steel glove
Good bye to innocence
His restraints bind us coarsely entombed
Good bye to innocence
We will dance on the ruins he calls love .
As they loomed through the sacred grove,
With staffs of Oak and Mistletoe,
Casting Oghams to the wind,
These men are wise with strength within.
They know the secrets of the trees,
And all the critters that live with these,
Once the kings would sort their counsel,
But they are the Wren, out from the wing.
First Irish chief had three eagle feathers,
Where the Bards were called the Fili,
In three worlds they would venture,
For three is sacred to the order, as is Awen.
The king is the eagle in the Duir (oak)
But the Druid is the wren that flys out from his wing.
/|\
The Native Americans have a similar story it goes something like:
As the Eagle soared and was about to claim his kingdom,
Out popped a little wren from under his wing, and flew a few feet higher,
declaring, yes, gaze upon your king, it is I!
In conclusion: It is ok to ride on the coat tail of others as we all do, but at
some point, we all must go out there and make our own path, or own inputs.
For the wren’s nest is also the Druid’s house.
(This poem is political satire;
don't read if you think you may
be offended. No truth in any of it,
considered by many to be
tasteless -- Not meant to be taken
factually nor literally -- Sincerely, Joe)
New strain of Virus detected
just a minute ago! Predominately
in Democrat run cities and states:
Seems to be 3 trillion times more
infective. CDC is calling it the,
S.T.U.P.I.D. Variant. University Staffs
hard-hit! Early signs, loss of Sense-
of-Smell, Gullibility, and increased
fetish for Designer Masks. Best
detected by examination of Cancel
Cultures -- microscopes prohibited
per Fauci. The most vulnerable group
seems to be those who have already
had 4 doses and 2 boosters. To treat
Fauci recommends, 4 doses and 2 boosters
for everyone, preferably administered
as young as the womb to developing
fetuses by his personally trained
omnipotent physicians at Unplanning
Parenthood -- Biden and Pelosi
say, God Bless America!
God, I have a prayer for you today.
It’s just from me, but please hear what I have to say.
Millions are being abandoned, starved and soon alone, where some in Ukraine are still free to roam.
Children are becoming hungry, helpless and alone.
Give them bravery, messengers of God,
imaginary staffs and protective rods.
(Psalm 23)
Our leader’s horrible disdain has caused many to join The Hopeless Train.
Beg your angels to collect their pain.
Smalls tears are turning into puddles of fears.
Guardian angels, Ukraine needs protection, guidance and love,
hope, reassurance and your spiritual hugs,
from all your celestial beings above.
To my Deedoosh and my Babusys hold each other tight.
Hnhely, we pray for you today and tonight.
To Germany, Danke
Great Britain, Much obliged
Sweden, Tack
France, Merci
New York City, Thank you
And The United Kingdom.... our freedom.
Keep Ukraine’s enemies away.
From those on TV and those who are evil, far away.
President Zelensky my hope for you,
End the war for Ukrainian’s families,
Stand strong,
believe the world will right this wrong.
"Keep rising, keep moving, your silence is the loudest response"
Help Ukrainians to be brave in the face of fear.
People are trying to support you far and near.
Unite us together
and please now forever.
God, you listened to my prayer today, thank you for hearing what I had to say.
A staff is more than handhold, its worn
to the grasp, trust in what fell down from above.
The llama's sure foothold fits like our staffs
in the rocks climbing upward to the top to the sky.
We risk the blaze of sun, for the wide wings of condor
soaring, spiraling, hunting for a meal, never assured
except for his hold on the sky, flight, supreme
over the rocks and tumbles and worn out straw
of season of cold passing into days of warmth.
The spindle clatter, the roil and curve of weft needle
a prayer to on high, like the spirals of rock to the sky
the sun speaking to us at feet, these are complete
to the rest and remain of our escape to safety
in the cradle of our summer retreat, waiting for stars
to fall among us, waiting for stars to carry us away
from homes built within a circle of spires, three spires
to bring the ley lines of power into our grasp, to offer
escape from the dust and dung we live in, amazed.
“A Man with a Big Heart “
I met Dr Austin, a dentist in Salt Lake City
Who is caring all patients with no discrimination
At his high-end clinic, which is always been so busy:
It is hard to find a man like him in this nation.
His clinic is called Gateway Dental Arts, at the Gateway Mall
Which is so cozy with newest contemporary style,
Appointments are easy breezy with just one call,
His expertise is to provide patients to have a beautiful smile.
He works day in and day out tirelessly the whole year
His wonderful staffs all speak so sweet and dear
Encouraging patients young and old, not to fear
When the doctor had to use all different kinds of drill gear.
Dr Austin didn’t care about money, that’s his principle
All he just wanted is to get the result of his Dentistry, a miracle
Written by Dr Ko Ko Thein (a) Dr Mya Thein
Salt Lake City.
I hear the music calling me
From the smooth and shiny rows of keys
The ebony and ivory
And all the melodies between
‘Come!’ it says, ‘And play a song
Upon your fingertips I’ll canter along.
Befriend the scales—arpeggios
Follow the tune wherever it goes
Let your heart become the notes
Let your soul become the pitch
Let your life become the piece
Together we shall play.’
I hear the music calling me
From brazen gold and silver strings
Between burnished frets I have seen
The beginnings of a reverie
‘Come!’ it says ‘And pick a poesy,
Fast and furious, young and rosy.
Strum my chords, tickled with rhythm
Call and coax the magic within them
Let your mind roam free and far
Let your voice capture the stars
Let your soul be one with mine
Together we shall play.’
I hear the music calling me
From silver, circular woodwind keys
The trilled and tranquil fairy fifes
Will slice the silence like a knife
‘Come!’ it says, ‘And toot a tune
And learn the lore of lustrous flutes.
Dance upon the bars and staffs
Our mystery within your grasp
Know the sharps, the flats, crescendos
Staccatos and diminuendos
Since your birth you’ve known it’s so
This is knowledge you should know
Lay your life upon these keys
Tune your heart to match my beat
Sing and dance your destiny
Together we shall play.’
Three Forty Five Connection
Wednesday afternoon? I don’t remember
Technology---helper drives me crazy
Not a magic mirror you brought me
Yesterday afternoon? I don’t remember
Seeing each other, both were smiling
“Does he feel what I feel?”
“I guess he feels”
Or he..., “does she feel what I feel?”
“I guess she feels”
He brought funny staffs
And I brought big smile
Both were disturbed by two different eyes
God made him it green
And mine is black
I did stare and show thousand glitters in my eyes
For him to say, “that is my response for your gentle smile”
He did cute gestures far from distance,
The puppet show for me to smile.
“Do I need to laugh? Yes I smiled!”
He is the only one who made like that.
Couldn’t distinguish how far our gap
Because He molded him as doll
A doll that he made
Oh! Yes!
They were four!
Lucy and Johny, Sussy and Cassandra
The heart shape lips formed into a kiss
Transparent wall met from thousand miles
Color and culture, height and weight
Status and condition are not important
Who cares?
Distance is not significant?!
Crazy afternoon, 3:45, 5:45 time to say goodbye
Silent morning, 12:45 called him to rest
Both heart rebelled to turn off the...
Both were decided to give each number and...
So... Who first to utter? And he then...
“When do we see each other again?”
Hands’ clock killed the moment
Unstable condition...
What ah! Oh why?
Connection trapped by the world wide web problem.
Fare waits upon the table— hard and fluid kind:
three glasses filled with golden liquid, shards of ice;
another two- the amber-colored flow, defined
and clear, no ice, their smooth opacity concise.
Supported are four slices—lightly toasted bread
that stand on end, grouped, dry without a hint of spread.
Oh, such a wondrous setting—bread, the staff of life,
the basic need that fed all men since long ago,
life-giving manna all across the world, where strife
engulfs and threatens those of humankind that know
without the staff of life, their days come to an end—
without their daily bread, grim death will soon attend.
And, there along with bread, the liquid stands beside
to quench the thirst, provide as a life-sustaining mate.
Without this sacred flow to balance and subside
the dryness in the throat from bread—this would negate
the need for food—for fluid is our liquid gold,
and mixed with bread, the staff of life becomes two-fold.
April 14, 2014
What's In A Name
(Heritage, Proudly Honored)
From ancient lineage comes my last name
Brave warriors that drank strong ale, spilled blood.
Some were letters men, spoke in Irish brogue
foot loose fancy free, set for any game!
Patrons of olden villages and their pubs
They daily, drank to sing and sang to drink.
A few were artists, painters and that lot
sworn to clan, beloved clan was their club!
Masters of vast lands, in valley of trees
Shepherds of flocks defended only by staffs.
Others arms makers, broad-swords forged true
More recent times, sailors of seven seas!
Yet I dare to honor father's proud name
With pen marks and compassion's flaming glow.
Family dear, loved beyond my own life
As I breathe, teach my son to do the same!
With humility, pray these words hold true
Each day, I shall bless those I most cherish.
At night, guard lives even should it cost mine
With honor, pay great homage that is due!
January 9th, 2017
Syllable count checked : www.howmanysyllables.com
For Contest :
What's in a name? - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by SilentOne
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
1. BROGUE
The term brogue (/bro?g/ BROWG) generally refers to an Irish accent. Less commonly, it may also refer to certain other regional forms of English, in particular those of Scotland or the English West Country.[1][2]
The word was first recorded in 1689.[3] Multiple etymologies have been proposed: it may derive from the Irish bróg ("rough or stout shoe"), the type of shoe traditionally worn by the people of Ireland and the Scottish Highlands, and hence possibly originally meant "the speech of those who call a shoe a 'brogue'".[4] It is also possible that the term comes from the Irish word barróg, meaning "a hold (on the tongue)", thus "accent" or "speech impediment".[5] A famous false etymology states that the word stems from the supposed perception that the Irish spoke English so peculiarly that it was as if they did so "with a shoe in their mouths".[6]
Note: All lines in this heap are from failed sonnets that I tried to stack without having any two consecutive lines come from the same poem. I had to break the rule twice. It was nice to find a use for this trash, though. I'm sure a few can relate:
Often I think of how the canyon laughs,
what jokes, I muse, would free stuffy stockades?
And if the sheep had herded men with staffs,
would darkness come out, not into the caves?
What lambs or sheep use cripples just for skin,
to drape within the light from early day,
From their helium balloon canyon’s den,
How would they know if tides were high to stay?
Of milk lavender tulips, though, I flow,
as satin lace in leather stirrups through,
The march I may in august do in snow,
for hell has frozen over, don’t you know?
Yesterday, even, on my t.v. screen,
I saw a child wearing a shirt that said:
“Help save the volta, doubles have been seen,
Terrible truths of one that two are dead!”
So sink and seize this season's silliness,
who does her hair while wielding a sword,
unspoken are the kisses between us.
when prayers pray for want of loving lords;
Yet, my own veins feel lighter they do,
she cuts at skin but doesn’t say good bye,
I’ll tell you this, that it doesn’t do you,
hand me the Kleenex, someone spit in thine eye!
I was in love and now I’m still in love,
but she, or you, you spin me crazy love!
But then, I breathe, as canyons laugh at me,
What? Laugh at these! I hope you stay thirsty!
Soundscape Strata
Did Bach know to what end
his harvest of melodies-in-parallel would become?
Scholars agonize
Was creation of counterpoint
musical destiny
a hybrid fruit of beauty
knowing no boundary
bewildering those of first look
given musical staffs
voicings and manuscripts
always conformed to traditional confinement?
What spurred his palette of sound
to become one with the elusive rainbow
providing independence through marriage of numbers
allowing prolonged courtship
sanctioning destinies to verge
converge
separate
return to coalesce?
And so
From guitar
to clavichord
string quartets
to symphonies
counterpart airs were discovered
became melodious architecture
challenging new musical frontiers
voiding tundra's boundary rules
reducing history's brass survey monuments
to mere reflections of past memory
Popularization of Bach's invention
soared beyond the artistic elite
for in '55 "Picnic" graced movie screens
initiating the unsuspecting
elevating emotion with layered melodies
Moonglow playing under the love theme
Bach's kaleidascope of synchronous colors
reached the century's romantics
keyed into a music major
minored ala Brubeck
scat-a-tized via Ella and Mel
and
made unity of opposites a given
Thus
From Bach's synthesis of two dimensions
musical ironies evolved
influencing writers' language
line upon line
stanza to stanza
chapter to chapter
making magical
the double entendre
metaphor
subtext
contrapuntal imaginings
all translated into
infinite language-in-progress
With applause knowing nowhere to go
except to acknowledge the roots of prodigy
a high five to the man
who pioneered so much of our soundscape
taught us all the numbers of romance
ironically created attraction to opposites
arpeggios with many colors
intimacy amidst chaos
Encore Mr. Bach
Encore
There once was a sage man named Rasputin,
With filthy beards, and wore cross made of tin.
While preaching his holy crafts,
He met the queen and her staffs.
He slept with them that got him in a bin.
Rolling musical staffs
Round disks on the blue sea
Rose petals of water
Romantic harmony
Refrains of this heart’s song
Rushing between raindrops
Rings for you my sweethearts
April 17,2021 11.14pm
4th Place in Pleiades R Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Judged: April 19,2021
The House I Fear Most Lives Within My Shoe,
Contains recordings of my utmost gaffes,
The other, mocks! (Thank God that there are Two!)
Within the front room (where Critics, cuds chew)
Are played the scenes where everybody LAUGHS!
The House I Fear Most Lives Within My Shoe.
And next to it, an organ-parlor, too!
Where musical ‘slips’ turn into giraffes!
The other, mocks! (Thank God that there are Two!)
The Worst: a Hall where all my Words Untrue
Come back at me in spears, spikes, stones and staffs!
The House I Fear Most Lives Within My Shoe.
And Last: a garden sewn only with Rue,
And stones carved with unthankful epitaphs…
The other, mocks! (Thank God that there are Two!)
I’m stuck in them! Though at my feet I hew,
I cannot cut these leather prisons off!
The House I Fear Most Lives Within My Shoe.
The other, mocks! (Thank GOD that there are Two!)
January 8, 2019