Best Surer Poems
The Middle Time is now upon me,
The tune to which I dance grows somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacophonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulcher of careless memory passed,
I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
As I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.
Yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
Content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.
O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As t'was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
Nobler thoughts - the ones which stay,
Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
To deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?
God rest ye merry gentleman
Thank the Lord that you are able
By devious manipulation to
Keep the turkey on the table;
All praise to those good bankers
Who in spite of committed fraud
Maintained the Status Quo
For which we thank thee Lord;
All hail to the Establishment
Who in spite of envious stricture
Have made it more possible
For the rich to get much richer;
Our blessing on the poor
At this blessed time of Yule
Long delayed may be the time
They cease being so easy to fool.
In humble display of
How sincere are our thanks
We’ll donate our table scraps
To a couple of food banks;
All hail the Brexit process
For nothing is more surer
The rich may not get much richer
But the poor will sure get poorer;
God Rest ye Merry Businessman
Vast profits may you display
All hail the secularisation
Of this Modern Christmas Day.
Amen
It seems, in truth, that I'm such a glutton,
For a pulsing, lighted or sliding button.
Christmas, for me? An arriving shipment,
Boxes packed full with musical equipment!
Nothing can compare with the digital glow,
Of rack-mounted processors, row-on-row.
Is there no surer proof of a world in order,
Than dancing lights on a multi-track recorder?
And how could you decorate a room any cuter,
Than guitars on the walls and a laptop computer?
Near-field monitors and microphones aplenty,
So, to whet the whistles of music cognoscenti.
Keyboards, amplifiers, drum machines, effects,
Mood lights to decide what track to add next.
Well, it may not sound like YOUR place to be,
But this shimmering scene is heaven to me!
And what's so fine about this electronic roost?
Well, it's a place where musical dreams ...
Are produced!
* SECOND PLACE in the "Meraki" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Sponsor. *
(I am and will always be, a musician/songwriter, first-and-foremost, and while performing is my second love, [and poetry a close third], there's nothing for me like the creative process - writing, recording, producing songs in the studio - laying down the tracks one-by-one, layering the instruments and voices, building and watching/hearing the song take shape, and mastering the final production - in control of every facet ... looking back at the incredible amount of time and work involved, and feeling proud of that musical piece of you that you can listen to and share with the world ... there is nothing like it, and the lights of the studio equipment are, for me, like a Christmas all my own, and the dancing pixies of a wonderland of sound and melody - my meraki, indeed!)
Love changes me from doubtful to hopeful
From down and out – to up in the clouds
From worried and anxious to happy and content
From lost in the sorrow
To inspired by the moments of grace
Love changes me from grief-stricken
To pleased and jubilant
From dark and dreary to light and cheery
From lost in the pain to grateful for the gain
From the shadows of disgust
To the enthusiasm of wanderlust
Love changes me from angry and bound by pride
To humble and willing to provide
For others more than myself, giving with a open spirit
Willing to accept whatever may come
With a open heart, in a spirit of sweet love
Love changes me from tense and agitated
To relaxed amid the glorious goodness
Of a life filled with fulfillment and beauty
Breathtaking rapture that satisfies the soul
Leaves the heart full of hope
And keeps the soul growing surer
Of a love that is God’s promise of eternity
Love changes me from thankless and unpleasant
To grateful for the faith that gives me
Second chances, joy within and complete assurance
That I have His spirit to confide in
Speak to in prayer that will sustain and satisfy
Sincerely bless me with gratitude
Love changes me from one who is lost
To someone who knows the glory of hearts
Broken by conviction and accepted by His gift
Of freedom and salvation, the grace
That keeps me filled with a spirit who has been
Born again, lifted, accepted
By the God who created me and gave to me
His one and only Son, Jesus – my soul’s promise
For pure unconditional love
Through faith, my heart is glorifying
In the love that changed me
And gave me… the chance to enter heaven’s gate
Each day that passes is one day closer
To that joyous season when we roll in clover
Smell the spring air
Feel like a millionaire
Absolutely best season, there's nothing more surer
(Christ's nature pictured in a little child.)
Should Christ desire his nature known,
His manner so meek and mild.
Could he not take one of his own,
Reveal himself in a child?
Wide eyed in faith of things to come,
Resides in that heart so new.
A total trust in his Father,
With unreserved reliance too.
No doubt in motive concerning a friend,
Enters that mind so sweet.
In the child, you can depend,
The mirror of Christ to see.
Forgiving, always forgiving those,
With whom they have to do.
Loving everything around,
And, with enthusiasm too.
Esteeming no one really bad,
Or requiring work to do.
Children have hope and charity,
And smiles of thanksgiving too.
Could someone find a better way,
For Christ's love to be shown,
Except for Holy scripture, to say,
No better way is known.
In the child the effect of grace,
Is so clearly manifested;
While sinful human depravity,
Can hardly be detected.
Look in the world from end to end,
Searching as you may:
No surer picture can be found,
No purer judgment made.
Than in the beauty of the child,
One ever so meek and mild;
In whom love lies unconditionally,
And where there is no guile.
If this dear thought you don't believe,
Or dare not pursue:
Well, its no marvel at all to me,
Christ was once a child too.
Matt.18:3-6 "Verily, I say unto you, except you
be converted and become as little children,
ye shall not enter into the kingdom of
heaven.. Whosoever therefore shall humble
himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven, and whosoever
shall recieve one such little child in my name, recieveth me. But, who so shall offend one of
these little ones which believeth in me, it were better for him if a millstone were tied
around his neck and he were drowned in the bottom of the sea.
(Poem inspired by Braydon Ledbetter at age
of 1 Yr.)
Copyright © Lionel ... [2004-02-
We are born remembering
DNA's sacred syntax,
cryptic receipts with multigenerational redemption value,
to redeem integrity through this incarnation's
fully functional root and crown potential
For ecological
politically co-intelligent
co-operative economic practice
with polyculturally unconditional intent
Mutual subsidiarity of peace
compassioning just rightness
declared only through solidarity
in co-prehensive
leftbrain consciousness.
Who are these would be CoRedemptive Mentors
stalking my multi-regenerational mirror?
Tempted by good and evil
I reconnect MotherEarth's suffering
to monotheistic FatherSun's not listening,
steadfastly ambivalent feelings
ambidextrously languaged
Riding Time's enculturing edge
flying forward for hope of better
stronger
surer lasting light,
fleeting backward darkening doubtful powers
to change what I cannot compassionately tolerate
to fulfill EarthJustice commitments together
as we might
were Anthros not a lone Redeemer
anti-hero monoculture
Prophets without sufficient Time
for holy spirit's embryonic forms
flowing full-natured unction.
This present makes a safer home
than future's pregnant womb
or past's enslaving RoyalAnthro tomb
severing analogical revolutions
apart
rather than preserving integrity's resolutions
together.
Double-bound
stigmatic
messiah wounds
Breathing in Earth's first breath
while dying out Ego's already last,
stifling my victorious solo shout
"not yet...not yet" out
My mythic time
portends mystery's co-redeeming climax
without embracing Beloved EarthTribe's
sacred sensory resonance.
Redeemer musing Heart
mediating fragile warring Mind
against unwisely breaking Body,
our Trinitarian Teleology
As messianic restitution
perpetually rides
Earth's suffering surf
of almost pregnant paradise.
Though I’d searched far, no freedom could I find
till Solace came to me and stilled my mind.
His Presence stood and ended my soul’s war.
No freedom had I found, though I’d searched far.
My mind untangled from its reasoned fear
and cast aside the threats to all things dear.
With joy I see the broken fetters dangle.
From reasoned fear my mind untangled.
The Truth, surer than anything we see.
Beyond this timed realm waits eternity,
outshining all the blissful dreams of youth.
Surer than anything we see, the Truth.
I cannot explain this calm knowing,
like a whisper borne on soft breeze blowing,
that hope awaits beyond the present pain.
This calm knowing, I cannot explain.
April 25, 2019
Swap Meet Poetry Contest
Carol Connell, Sponsor
Oh Arise!
the city with wonderful natural resources
country where all are loyals
Country where peace and unity are our watchwords
leaders are serving in good manners
masters and servants are truthful to themselves
in seeing each other as brothers and sisters
children future are care for in parents' hands
fundamental human rights lives
country where thou gripe corruptions
education is the greatest for all of us
Oh Arise!
suddenly you become a changer
country where no one wants to be truster
what a quarter!
servant is not trustworthy to master
helpless is useless to the helper
parent is not faithful to the shaver
thy children are not surer
everyone now become a gamer
when will the future be brighter?
corruption reignth in thy pastoral
Oh Arise!
thy lie is thy precision
peace and unity is not fashion
fundamental human rights in consumption
shedding of blood is thy ambition
not even planning for the next generation
frivolous has taken our education
to be educated is not for misappropriation
different between truth and lie is truth use you intuition
let us try to be positive exception
arise to the positive direction
Oh Arise! to peace and justice oh ye nation
Oh Arise!
Each day that passes is one day closer
To that joyous season when we'll roll in clover
Smell the spring air
Feel like a millionaire
Best season by far, there's nothing more surer
© Jack Ellison 2016
F rolicking freely, I float in the
O ceans of your eyes
R eaching for the depths of love, I
E merge stronger and surer each time
V ows we took years ago still tingle and
Elate me to this day. My soul still
R oars with happiness beyond belief
I n my dreams I see you every
N ight though you sleep with your hand on me
Y ou have united my mind and heart in
O ne note and string. In
U nison they sing and dance
R epeating just your name without reprieve
E nough of the folly, I chide myself
Y es, expanse of your chest is mine alright.But a look at those
E yes and I start to lose
S ense and footing yet again
Written on :07/11/2016
Summer meant playing with cousins
Until the fireflies started to dance and glide
Soaring just beyond our small hands
And, then, sometimes reaching the end
Of a journey inside a Mason jar
Summer meant riding with the window down
In a gold Ford that was dented
Rusting and not too pretty, but sufficient
For rides through a small town
Where the square held a courthouse
Library, hardware store, barber shop
And so much more that I couldn’t see
Beneath the curly lashes that edged
My bright blue eyes
Summer meant dirt and dreams
Little things like laughter and happiness
Whispers into ears who listened
With a head held down for attention
To the details that were voiced
On the other end of vibrant emotions
Summer meant Granny’s cornfield beans
Fried okra and crooked neck squash
Delicious yellow cornbread and glasses
Of cold milk from the fridge
Where all the leftovers hung out in
Emptied butter and cool whip containers
Summer meant sunshine and laughter
Music that lasted through the night
And happiness floating
On the voices of kindness and hugs
That came from hearts
Who were so alive they actually
Breathed love from their blue veins
Summer meant ideas that were new
Fresh and moist as the dewdrop morning
Clinging to the dreams that smiled
Through thoughts of paperbacks and words
That gripped my young mind
Winding their way through my thoughts
Until I knew that all I wanted to hear
Were the miracles and fantasies
That came alive for me
Beneath the pen of some author
I knew must have hung the moon
With their brilliance and imagination
Summer bee stings and daydreams
Lifted my heart to new heights
And taught me about believing in the love
That grew surer and wiser
With the passage of each summer sun
A Meaningful poem poetry contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
March 24, 2021
I well remember that night
The night I died
The sky was pouring
On the reflections of the dancing street lights I stomped
I was cold and scared
I could sense the ghosts chasing me on the demolished walls
I dashed but then a blast and I was thrown to the ground
Now I was counting the stars, rain washing off my blood
The little star winked at me
If I wasn’t dead I could go and tell my roommate that even stars were hitting on me
Death held me tight, I could feel his stare
I wish death was a woman so I could hide my face in her hair
But death looked more like “Akbar” the guy who sold vegetables in the market
With the same lustful eyes
And hands marked with callosity after he took too many lives
He wrapped his fingers around my neck
And laid his wet lips on my throbbing head
His breath smelled like cigarette and some staled food
I felt nauseous and threw up all the soul I contained
I couldn’t be surer that I was dead; looking at his satisfied face
The very same look men give after an ******; His hands were rejecting me now
So I lifted the hems of my spirit and flew up
Counting the infinite stars in the sky
As my feet were lingering from the roof top of the blue mosque
I am dead!
Rahy
March 23-2016
There is no surer way
To sacrifice who you are
For the sake of success
Popularity or a relationship
I have walked in the valley of the shadow of death, and I have feared great ill
And stumbled over stony ground, where surer feet have fell.
I’ve known the loss of guiding hand and mourned its steady hold,
and wandered in the desert place, beyond the shepherds fold.
My prayers have bounced from brass clad dome, to echo in the void,
my tears and cries unanswered, my faith and trust destroyed.
The bitter gall of emptiness, of wasted time and chance,
that choked the breath and stabbed the heart, with realizations lance.
The power above, no longer hears, the screams of mankind’s woe,
those omnipresent eyes of care, no longer watch below.
For in that place where heaven was, there sits an empty hall,
resounding every echo, of the cries and pleas of all.
The countless Gods, the Prophet hordes, the Holy men renowned,
lie unmarked in their wooden rooms, awaiting promised crowns.
Their statues bear this testament to all who look and stare.
If one of these knew truly God, why won’t his God declare?
How many thousand million lives, deceived by reverent fraud,
search in everlasting void, abandoned by their God?
What of the countless multitudes, who starve in barren fields,
Or die in futile battles, fought for other people’s greed?
Where is the justice where’s the right, where stand the meeker then?
The trite reply rings hollow from the lips of Holy men;
you cannot understand his ways, nor question God’s great plan.
Suffice to live, and then to die, a hope filled happy man.
Am I alone in asking, or wondering if it’s true,
Where is the God of Abraham and fiery furnace too,
this God that guided Israelites, from Egypt’s brutal hands,
and led the way, with power and fire, into a promised land?
Oh that I’d walked in Canaan’s fields, and spoken face to face,
and asked the burning questions, on behalf of mankind’s race.
Where did you go, why do we wait upon this tortured earth,
and Seeking God of truth and love, discovering only dearth.
Yet still I hope, and still I pray, not knowing if I’m heard,
and read and try to understand, the everlasting word.
A fool am I, apparently, to query mystic things,
to witness Faustian madness, and the pain religion brings.
Yet still the questions hang in space, their letters ten miles high,
For Who, and What, and When, and Where, and most important WHY?