Best Wade Poems
God's Water Wade Horn Haiku
In heaven was made;
My love away will not fade;
God's water did wade.
Jim Horn
Hope Thailand Boys soccer
team will all survive.
Basement
Occupied of dirty laundry
Comic books
And Chuck Palahniuk
This grungy fume
Smells of coffee beans
Stirred with cigarette butts
And dirty feet
Neutral Milk Hotel is singing
Through that dirty old stereo of yours
On top is a stack of
Scratched up mixes I created
Elliott Smith
Built to Spill
And Leslie Feist
Scribbled with my sharpies
24 pack purchased at Costco
This scene
Is all too familiar
And this room reeks
Of the late Saturday nights
Spent watching Spiderman one and two
Not three
Those summer days
Full of slices at Dream
And rooftop adventures
The miles soaked
In that dark maroon truck
Where your baby brother’s safety chair
Always got tangled up with the seat belt
You got frustrated
And I just laughed
Those kitchen afternoons
Full of Honey Bunches of Oats
And mouth-watering sandwiches
Light on the mayo
And heavy on the mustard
The lazy Sundays
Keeping our hands warm
With a cup of English Breakfast
Find us downtown
Wondering around Second Street
Notes left on the counter
Don’t forget to water the plants
And absolutely no guests
With an examination mark at the end
Love, Mom
You never did forget to water the plants
Hand in hand
With a zip lock bag full of trail mix
Extra M&M’s
With the world at our feet
That smile of yours
Takes me back
Seventh grade
Three seats ahead of me
A small frame
With a big head
Abnormally long arms
A devious smile
From ear to ear
No braces provided
Massive hands
And uneven bangs
A deep voice
For a little man
Stuck inside
A supernatural world
Full of villains
And superhero capes
Plaid jacket
Everyday
Snatched from Goodwill
Cheated the soda machine
And smacked lockers
Just to hear the magnetic mirrors
Crash
The face is so familiar
And the past is vivid
But I know nothing about you
How are you?
How is she?
Do you remember that
One time we
Raced in the dark
Till our insides almost exploded
That night I almost fell
Off your rooftop
Pointing out the Big Dipper
These times
Float through my mind
Vividly
By the way
Your hideous attempt
To draw a triceratops
Is still hanging on my wall
Thanks for that
I
Our cry, silenced.
We watch the murder of our freedoms
Like spectators at a lynching.
Our Twenty-first-century forbearance rubbed out,
Our twentieth-century sensibilities never happened.
High court corruption,
A misogyny hell-bent on a 19th-century revival.
In its myopic mendacity,
In its mockery of fundamental democracy,
We all take great comfort in knowing
A woman’s body is now state-regulated.
There is great solace in knowing how
Raped little girls will be forced to give birth.
II
Our cry, silenced.
Oh, see all the words never included,
Never even considered in the Constitution:
“Lesbian,” “gay,” “desegregation.”
Too busy were the founders with tending
Their slaves in 1789.
Too busy they were in stealing land from
Native Americans.
The founders never wrote of Jews or Muslims,
They never knew the word “Latinx.”
But something in the mischief of children
Tells us who we really are today!
Not when women were executed for witchcraft.
Not when the founders made a Constitutional guide
Like sausage.
Published: Dissident Voice 10/23/22
Eight weeks ago,
my daddy's sperm
connected with Mommy's egg.
A miracle explosion of living energy;
molecules merged,
cells divided, multiplied, took form.
My heart beats,
my limbs move,
and although I cannot yet see,
my ears hear, and I feel pain.
Smaller than my daddy's
thumbnail, is the size
of my perfectly formed little feet.
Someday, they will carry me
across green grass, through cool water
and over burning sand.
But only if I live to term.
© Faye Adams 1/20/2009
I HAVE GREAT RESPECT FOR THAT NOLAN RYAN.
IN EVERY SINGLE WAY.
I WOULD LOVE TO THINK OF THIS
AS JUST ANOTHER DAY.
NOLAN RYAN IS OLD SCHOOL.
I JUST LOVE THE WAY HE PLAYS.
WHEN THE TWO OF US DO BATTLE,
ONE OF US WILL HAVE TO PAY.
I WON'T LAUGH AT NOLAN RYAN.
NOT EVEN WHEN HE'S WILD.
HE STRUCK ME OUT 3 TIMES SAME GAME,
AND HE NEVER CRACKED A SMILE.
I'VE BEEN KNOWN TO GET SOME HITS,
MANY TIMES TWO OR THREE.
WHEN I HAVE TO FACE THAT NOLAN RYAN,
I NEED TO BE THE BEST THAT I CAN BE.
TONIGHT I HAVE TO FACE THAT CHALLENGE.
I KNOW IT WONT BE EASY.
IF YOUR A FAN SITTING IN THE STANDS TONIGHT.
RYAN'S FASTBALL WILL MAKE IT BREEZY.
Brave Men Wade Into Shadows On Death's Ground
Power of one secret word can shatter all,
send men into war and deadly harms way.
Dead and dying on battlefields they fall
for dead glory and pittance of pay.
Brave men wade shadows on death's ground
duty bound, praying for divine reprieves.
Bloodshed reigns, ghastly deaths are found
Dark Lord lies, that eternally deceives!
Curse not legions of those fallen brave,
honor rests in dying for a true cause.
Heroes die in pain, as madmen simply rave
wasted lives best give deeper pause!
Blood gushes from spears with iron tips
lives depart in battles forgotten.
Charon sings out about his many trips
ferrying bodies gashed, dead and rotten!
Honor embraced those that fought dying well,
others lay in dark forgotten graves.
Charon took their lost souls deep into Hell
where misery lives, nothing ever saves.
No record exists of battlefield dying words
testaments of mouths gurgling red blood.
Rotting flesh, meals for hell's carrion birds
maggots feasting upon blood soaked mud!
Fear one secret word that can shatter all
duty, honor fail when wrapped in lies.
True warriors live to answer a just call
seeking life later in Vahalla's skies.
Serving truth in defending freedom's fate
they may find death to not be so hard.
Each knows with death they do have a date
a joker resting on at least one card!
Power of one secret word can shatter all,
send men into war and deadly harms way.
Dead and dying on battlefields they fall
for dead glory and pittance of pay.
Brave men wade shadows on death's ground
duty bound, praying for divine reprieves.
Bloodshed reigns, ghastly deaths are found
Dark Lord lies, that eternally deceives!
Robert J. Lindley, 02-10-2015
Note--Bringing this from my private writes in my journal.
The 70's brought a wake-up call, embracing some needed change.
Some women with unwanted pregnancies were self-mutilating, so insane.
It seems we are now regressing like a patient who's demented.
Why would a women's right to choose now be legally circumvented?
Too many women lost their lives in a blood bath so obscene.
Botched coat hanger abortions and
other unsafe means.
Do you hear their voices?
Can you count their screams?
We have learned nothing, or so it seems.
Too many women's lives ended tragically.
Where are their death statistics?
Are we too blind to see?
God help a nation that forgets it's own history.
We can't have a child.
It's not a matter of want,
of belief,
of opinion.
We cannot.
Every doctor says, my wife will die.
The child might live, or might not,
but the love of my life will not,
not a guess, not a chance.
Just a death.
You can give your life, for another's.
Your death can stop one more,
if you're a cop, a soldier,
a hero, a nobody.
But we can't make you do it.
There is no law for that.
If a soldier lays down his life,
he is awarded, praised,
if he doesn't, he is not punished.
Not imprisoned for living.
So why would my wife trade, at best,
her life for one she will never meet?
Why would I trade my love's life
for a roll of the dice on another?
Why should we be forced to?
For a heartbeat, a whisper of a breath,
that may never make it out of the womb?
For a bitter, beaten man to live alone
or with the child who reminds him of loss?
Why should anyone else get to say?
Why should anyone else get a choice,
even if such weren't true?
Why should you get to choose
that she bear still heart, again and again?
To satisfy your hope, not hers?
Why should you get to speak,
if a woman has no voice?
If she has no money for a child,
no wish to birth her abuser's spawn?
To please your god, not hers?
Why should you get to decide,
why should you get the last word?
On any life that isn't your own,
any consequence not yours to bear?
To save an unborn life, not hers?
You should not.
It is not your choice, not your life,
not your grief, your sorrow,
your freedom or your death.
It is only, your opinion.
There is no right to such thoughts, only control.
Gather your countdowns to a week,
your milestones and your markers,
your intentions for the lives of strangers.
Burn them, turn such vile filth into ash.
Women owe society no life.
No attempt at a child, no health,
no life wasted, in death or in despair,
just for a chance at someone else's hope.
Someone else's decision.
Why should a fetus be sacred,
when the life, voice and sanctity
of the woman it could become -
so clearly mean nothing to you?
To slash and parry your blade
And into the battle you wade
Feint, strike and advance
Though you may death chance
Your foe will still say: Well played!
Unwanted
You were never unwanted
From the moment the Creator
Touched you into life
There was someone who wanted—
To catch your first breath
To wipe your first tear
To kiss your first bruise
To always be near
From the very first moment
Someone who wanted—
To give the nameless a name
To sit on the floor
Playing a silly game
Someone who wanted-
To watch you dance across the floor
To cheer louder than all
When you achieved the winning score
From inside the womb
Where life begins
She didn’t believe
With selfish lies undaunted
You are more than a choice
More than unwanted
From the beginning
God had someone who wanted—
To be called mommy
Or dad
To laugh with your laughs
To cry with your cries
To watch you soar beyond the skies
Someone who wanted—
You
©J HIRTLE
I wade into my creek...
I wade into the Prairie
Crayfish scuttle about my feet
I can feel its slippery algaed rocks
slide perilously under my feet.
The sun is high
90 degrees, even in shade
in this stiffling July heat
Not a creature is stirring
anywhere above this rippling creek
Not a bird, not a bug
Only me and only me.
The noonday sun
turns its pools
into lighter shades of bronze
tinged with some copper
Leached from its bed
of slippery stones
Copper mixed with mud.
The water pulls at me...
Pulls at me...
Tries to pull me from my feet...
But its wet coolness
keeps its hold of me
Coolness versus heat
and I wade on...
Although I know that somewhere
Somewhere closer than I think
in the deepest, darkest pools
A snapping turtle or two lie waiting...
Jaws of iron in this creek.
I still wade on...
(January 21, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Wade the Shallows
Wade the shallows, swim not the deep,
loss of time makes the old man weep.
Imagine castles, thundered in glory prime
fleeing shadows racing about in time!
Comfort of the known sees the dream,
whistles the kettle in heated steam.
A vow, a promising oath made in sin
darkened shadows await in the heart of men!
Cleave to the willows along the bank,
sand on the beach, rocks to thank
Look back at a wild path solemnly made
rejoice in the hand so well played!
Walk a path that gives solace and high spirit.
Ring that bell, do not worry if failing to hear it!
Robert J. Lindley, 07-20-2014
Fertile fields of sunflowers flank the picnic space.
Where the fragrant roses are scarlet or any other shade.
And where people exchange pleasantly divine grace.
A unique way to gain love, respect, and halcyon glade
This planet may purely exist in aware people's braincase.
Peace, though, keenly enjoys odd dream wade.
I nearly hanged, it was my fate
In seventeen eighty nine
I had stolen an old fur tippet
And claimed that it was mine
They put me into prison
Then sent me to be tried
The verdict came back guilty
and many tears I cried
But through the grace of mad King George
came a welcome dispensation
My sentence was commuted
and I was handed transportation
The journey was horrendous.
Eleven months or more.
Till we landed in Australia
That far and distant shore
And what this place has given me
When all is rendered down
Is a life I never would have had
In the slums of London Town.
sincerely, yours, Mary Wade
Transportation of convicts to Australia began in 1787 and continued until 1868. During this time, approximately 163,000 convicts were transported on 825 ships
Women have noticed with alarm
Justice has lost all of its charm
Despite lamebrains
The fact remains*
Doctors have vowed to do no harm!
*FACT: One does not become an individual
until the umbilical cord is severed.
Until then, Matthew 18:9 instructs:
"If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out,
and cast it from thee"