Best Stalwarts Poems
They say “You are only as strong
as the person standing beside you.”
There have been times when that thought…
frightened me, for the person standing
beside me……..was……..well……
let’s just say….. I didn’t choose to stand
beside them.
Perhaps it was a strange twist of fate,
you know…..a karmic curve ball –
and I was supposed to be the strong one.
I have been in rooms full of people,
all standing beside one another,
and thought: “We’re all screwed”,
“look at this collection of inbred inhumanity.”
I now know – sadly – they were thinking
the same thing. No one asked for a show
of hands as to who the “strong” ones were,
no “leader” T-shirts labeled them, no super
hero music played as they entered the room.
They were there – throughout my life –
those ubiquitous stalwarts, friends,
mentors, speed bumps, guideposts,
showing up to stand beside me
even when I didn’t know why they
were there.
I know now – why they were there –
coincidence, chance, providence,
the kindness of a humorous god,
the gift of serendipity, the luck of the draw.
I know now why I was there, why we were there.
We are only as strong as the person standing beside us
and the person standing beside them and the person standing……..
Well, anyway, I’m proud to be counted among this
collection of screwed up, inbred, inhumanity.
It is a pleasure to stand with you all.
John G. Lawless
1/17/2015
easterly winds blow
soldiers of faith sing and grow
stalwarts of Thy flow
'LINDA' and 'SKAT', are two of the group
Who welcomed me warmly to 'Poetry Soup'
They are poetic Sisters with different names
Who are supportive stalwarts and creative dames
To all fellow 'Soupers', I'm so pleased to say
That I'm happy to join you and in my own way
I'll be writing more soon but it's here I must pause
While I give you my thanks and a round of applause.
Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
We write of love, we
write of glory, we
develop heroes for
our story.
Heroines, damsels fill
our dreams, desire and
passion write in reams.
We are consorts of the
meek and the bold, in
truth and honesty our
words are sold.
The ink we spill can
tell no lies, injustice
and hatred the pen
openly defies.
Sadness and joy two
amenable friends, as
memories and feelings
flow from our pens.
Admirers of beauty
haters of waste, the
stalwarts of nature we
readily paste.
Affairs of the heart we
draw from our own,
the kiss on the page is
ever to roam.
Born of the earth yet
live in the stars, the
fulfilment of dreams
these sentences of
ours.
Drifted deep in wintry dark
she's in decline, as useless
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers,
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
till the mountains gave summons,
now forlorn and disregarded,
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose,
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize,
the belle of every ball, envied by all.
"If those walls could speak!" they say
as they quickly pass on by,
never giving her a second glance.
Stalwarts of fondness will last for eons,
a humble candle flame that glows as neon.
If my love for you is at a searing depth,
dyes pierce the air as beams on breadth.
Only love can heal the molten, burning page,
a sublime, lofty yearning for wider rage.
It sparkles as a scorching protuberance,
to the point of tumultuous exuberance.
No one is a seer of another place or time.
could wish to have a body or face sublime.
My veins were swarming with warm blood.
Implications for the mind are still being thud.
And every night, swaying in hope from above,
as I am drowning in the heavenly flow of love.
Written: April 02, 2023
2nd place contest winner
I Only Live To Love You Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
Spring’s budding, branching arbors,
saplings to sappy seniors,
are all stalwarts with ringed hearts
and life giving leaves.
(inspired by Francine Roberts' contest) 5/24/11
Enfeebled by suffering, my steps refused to abide my call
Tears streamed down when opportunity gently walked into my life
Should I or should I not accept the responsibility that breathed close by?
I laid aside my self pity, doused out the agony with pain killers
And put on my armour of fortitude
Smilingly I went forth with my two stalwarts
As Alexander may have with his army against Poros
In a fierce battle of wits we won a magnificent love cup trophy
Like a towering sterling chalice we held on to its proud handles
The dopamine effect kept us beaming on the podium
As shutterbugs kept us showered in their limelight
November 3, 2016
For Nayda Ivette Negron
Hear ye this last call for lonely hearts:
Vanquish melancholic darts
upon fortress of true love’s ramparts
securing compassion-propped stalwarts
braced by God, along His comfort-carts
fortifying and blessing blissful starts…
…as He ends gloom; and despair, He thwarts.
This summon reverberates hope’s cheer:
“Rejoice evermore;*” don't fear
since gladness smites sadness’ jeer
while loved-ones reach out with jubilant steer
smiting apathy of bitterness’ sneer
thus, joyous gratitude midst praise-gear…
…is gracious response, indeed clear!
*Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.
1Thessalonians 5:16 Rejoice evermore.
November 5, 2019
3rd place, "STRAND SELECT..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/1/2020.
Cancel Culture, Black Lives Matter,
Me too movement, Gay rights too,
Social media so much chatter
Have a gripe, just join the queue.
Pro-choice stalwarts, pro-life hawks,
Farm to table, Save the earth,
A world of slogans, countless squawks
A new cause daily sees it's birth.
Sound bites matter, the Media gloats,
Politicians scramble to take the stage,
Armed with purpose and ready quotes.
Often glib and rarely sage.
Where is reason, quiet thought.
Before action and verbal storm,
Popularity not earned but bought,
Measured now by Twitter swarm.
And as to us the silent mass
Forging lives amidst this din,
As we wade through this morass
To crack a smile is no great sin.
An old moral of the sea
Is avoid that siren's song,
Look away and simply be,
Then far less may just go wrong.
SLOW POKES
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A gut wrenching sight I witnessed this morn
A tragic encounter that left me forlorn
I saw stumbling wrecks of what was strong
Bent over and lame not much time to prolong
They are seniors that once were young
There bodies and minds becoming undone
All at the mercy of changing days
Slow to react in so many ways
Time moves fast and they move slow
Most marking time with no place to go
These are the folks who in previous days
Shouldered the weapons, made incredible plays
Its hard to accept its just history now
She was a riveter, he honored his vow
He piloted a fortress over enemy skies
She sang and danced for a thousand GIs
His fingers froze at place called Chosin
She tended his wounds without and within
He spent a thousand nights as a guest of Hanoi
She packed supplies for search and destroy
These are the stalwarts we’re all about
They did their duty with a winning shout
They’re now suspended in the twilight phase
They keep on serving til the end of their days
It’s a blessing to come from heroes like these
They still say” thank you” and” excuse me please”
Times have changed but they remain loyal and true
Their courage and fidelity made it easy for me and you
So have patience for these slow women and men
Cause its an honor to be in the company of them
November 6th 2018 - election day
Later today after
all votes get cast
post final countdown,
the winning candidates
ought to be known
way before break fast
cometh on the lanced
morrow (for champions),
nonetheless
my fingers and toes crossed,
that those donned diametrically
opposed to establishmentarian
(reed conservative
buttoned down
MAGA stalwarts) deemed
more dangerous than
beastie boys, or
foo fighting, Outkast
sans, these progressive forward
thinking Democratic activists
(purportedly threatening
gerrymandered territory,
where white Anglo Saxon
Protestant hegemony dominates
status quo regarding
dhow ting Thomas Nast
tee Donkeys as
hashtagged by Trump),
I pray these true
purring blue state
representatives clinch,
the majority to oust vast
Republican politicians cowed,
demeaned, and excoriated
for NOT fawning
prince supple lee,
nor paying expected
obeisance as mealy
mouth sycophants, that she
push hilly accede toward
belligerent, execrable,
and incriminating, nee
Machiavellian hot headed,
quasi coiffed,
donned, and puffed que
hair raising bully,
whose vindictive
uber lyft tartly tinged
tongue lashing,
they risk acerbic
punitive un re
lent ting vitriol stemming
from recalcitrance determined
by the fuhrer wannabe
wool shear lee be silenced
unless that bigoted,
"FAKE" man hat
tinned unabashed, unhinged,
and unruly
villainous president we
the village people nominated
to bulldoze zee
American free
dumbs, now made irrelevant!
Drifted deep in wintry dark
she's in decline, as useless
as a sailboat in a hurricane.
Once a haven for hikers,
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountain gave summons,
now forlorn and disregarded,
like a maiden aunt, too old and without purpose,
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize,
the belle of every ball, envied by all.
"If those walls could speak!" they say,
as the hikers pass her by,
never offering a second glance.
Challenged by the visionary speaker decades ago
I had a dream to become a tribal missionary to spread heavenly glow...
To make myself engaged in every discipleship engagement
involving in worthy tasks of counselling settlement...
Looking forward to learning different dialects and languages
my tongue would struggle with twists and accents along session stages...
With ministerial pursuits, I would delight to see youth joyously ready
and children from heathen culture grow in faith through Bible study...
Then help families to be health-oriented along good hygiene perspective
yes, pushing for rural welfare and development of Scriptural directive...
While encouraging lasses to pursue teaching toward life-upholding
and lads to be future engineers beyond infrastructure-building...
Pressing young ladies to prepare themselves as functional homemakers
and gentlemen to become bread winners and God's will-seekers...
Prayerfully instilling value of God-granted peace and security
when serving as values coach to courageous vanguards in the community...
Charging the fathers' valor in their decision and determination
as soldiers of their own houses, guarding loved ones with compassion...
Concerned with wives to optimize their skills and capacities
inspiring them to do well as light of illumining abilities...
Being with environmental stalwarts for their ecological posture
so enthusiastically trekking mountains for nature-venture...
Introducing technology for progress acknowledging tribal uniqueness
prodding for advancement that welcomes adjustment against perilousness...
Empowered by the Holy Spirit to run patiently along hardness-race
my faith would cleave to grace and cling
Still envisioning to serve the Lord in such mission field one of these days
I trust* the Almighty to bless those whom He has sent there always...
Finally, to write about the triumphant journey
exalting the Saviour in my jubilant tribal mission testimony!!!
*Psalm 112:7 He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD.
March 30, 2021
Edited on May 30, 2023
4th place, "Dreaming" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh; judged on 6/15/2023.