Best Wedge Poems
There are some things, we will never forget
....
the sound of a phone call, still rings in my ears
squeezing my chest.....squeezing my chest...
A sun sinking low, into the west
along with my heart
under a blood-crested sky
as we drove into the wedge of dusk
on the edge of our seats
in a frozen state
on that icy slope
I was holding my breath in the liquid silence
coping........not coping
engaging in warfare
of knowing, without really knowing
how to hope, ...or what to hope for
but deep down
already knowing, the war was over...
my torso was rocking
without my control......forward and backwards
a life of it's own
a balm for raw nerves, I couldn't calm down
something to do, something to do
knowing, but not knowing
be hopeful, or be resigned?
coping? not well
...knowing, but not knowing
yet, somehow fearing
the war was over....
-
on that night that would change all...
he clung to the wheel......I clung to the seat
we clung to our prayers, but what was done, will be done...
what is gone.....will be gone
as we drove into the wedge of night
watching the moon replace the sun without remorse
we stayed on course, without a word between us said
but a slither of light on the horizon
filling my head with visions of birds on the wing
flying into the clouds
like a sign
as a shroud
taking my eyes
taking my hope
taking the doubt
taking instead
my own resistance
to what I already knew
it all
meant
what was done....will be done
what is gone....will be gone
losing hope....is losing hope
the war was over...
what is left
we must accept
_________________________________
^
Too...
the point
social bias
we fall into place
Indoctrinated system
-ism's become a wedge
classism a form of racism
minds eye trained toward color
gold and green....bold with greed....
The Lemon Wedge on the Rim of Your Glass
By Elton Camp
Exposure to germs isn’t always a blight
They make the immune system work right
In normal living, we get all that we need
But lemon wedges all good sense exceed
It’s quite likely that you are going to find
The lemon picker scratched his behind
Washing lemons, restaurants say they do
In most cases, the claim simply isn’t true
Lemons are dirty when they enter the door
In the café, they’ll get contaminated more
Slicing is done with hands germy as can be
And the knives used aren’t of bacteria free
The slices are handled with glove or tong
Think that and you’re usually very wrong
Servers pick them up with hands unwashed
And against the glass rim they are squashed
With pathogenic bacteria your drink is spiked
The risk of getting sick has just been hiked
A recent study found bacteria such as these
Pathogens from skin, saliva and even feces
Even when it’s “No lemon” that you say
It may appear on or in your drink anyway
Drinks lemon-free really ought to remain
If from drinking germs you would abstain
the crack in the wall
spoke of only left ended
and the deisal way
See the eagle soar on high
Against the Australian azure sky
I wonder what your eyes will see
To the horizon as the earth meets the sea
Royalty of the air of all seen
Diving down on prey in death so clean
Then on a dead wood branch standing
Alert keeping watch so demanding
Who will challenge you
To outlast the fight through
And then soar again in a cloudless sky
As you conquer the world flying so high.
© Paul Warren Poetry
An energetic wedge of blue cranes doing mating dances
entered into Little Bear’s dream state without warning
Are they my totem? My spiritual advisors? My power animals?
He believed in such things, being Navaho.
He asked the revered shaman for advice
The crane will bring you luck and fortune
You will succeed where others have failed.
Keep him; he will teach you to prioritize.
The blue crane specifically will bring you peace.
Teach you to meditate, and be mindful.
You will better listen to the universe.
She is always speaking.
Little Bear had always been cheerful,
But this dream uplifted his heart.
Made him incredibly joyful.
He was a changed brave.
Your sweet and kind,
You forgive and turn a blind eye,
Your confidence,
Your assurance,
Your company I am glad to keep,
Your sine is my sine,
I have noticed,
The similarities,
Between us,
We seem the same,
Down to the movement of our fingers,
To our likes and dislikes,
Our inability to stand down,
To be so bold,
As to have no fear,
To speak personally,
To be the same insecurity,
As to know your needs,
And you to know mine,
From the dawn of our friendship,
To your 16th birthday,
We have struggled but endured,
We know how to talk to one another,
I feel we know each other,
You are beautiful,
But I feel you are hurt inside,
Your humbleness,
Is a trait I would love to possess,
Jasmine,
I love you,
You are my best friend,
I will be with you to the end,
Your beautiful on the outside,
As you are on the inside,
Happy Birthday,
I hope you love this present,
I would wait for you to the end.
There you are
Sitting in a tree
Stretching out your wings
The master of all you see
And looking straight at us
Then I see you flying up high
As we see you fly across the azure blue sky
You have been here as long as the wind
And will see the world renew when it begins again.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Yet whilst ajar, my hopes are wafer thin,
as door is slight, then wide awake am I
constraint of dismal days without reply
hopeful that if somehow, light shines in.
Be The Glue, Not The Wedge
Written: by Miracle man
5/8/2021
The steps we’ve taken in life have played a significant role
in bringing us to the spot that we occupy today.
Each of us has something that another desires.
Time, money, or something intangible,
and to obtain, many willingly break God’s commandments.
Too many are demanding to be the lead sled dog,
while constantly carping over the seating arrangements on the sled.
God sees value in all people,
but man hurls stones from a house of glass.
The Country Club of walking death,
calls out across the ferns
The 1st hole starts with pain unmatched,
its traps to flame and burn
The 9th hole calls you back to life,
just to send you down again
The 14th hole, a dismal swamp,
your demons there within
The 18th hole where soul’s are judged,
double bogeyed with a six
The clubhouse dark, your blood trail marked
—devil carrying your sticks
(Overbrook Golf Club: March, 2020)
to God made a pledge
will thank when He removes wedge
helped me cut my hedge
God always believe
in church Him we will receive
gave us a reprieve
God seems so splendid
all my many sins ended
He had intended
of God I am fond
our thinking He is way beyond
have a common bond
God gave His blessing
go to church up am dressing
sins are confessing
could be a crisis
while God always suffices
full of surprises
My Love is unchanged
From me you’ve not been estranged
She’s become deranged
By Robb A. Kopp
They (the Legacy media) persist in their use of deceptive practices with the intent to obfuscate what is true. They conveniently avoid facts, that are known, intending to mislead those who are superficially engaged.
The freedoms granted to the media by our constitution, as intended, was for the protection of the masses against rogue governments and or political abuses.
However principled the intentions of our forefathers in granting this freedom of the press, they would most certainly be appalled by the ongoing, intentional distorting of what is true, and what is currently being disseminated to the public by the majority of legacy media.
Today's abundance of available media sources, for those who seek what's true, only adds to the confusion and mistrust of this information. The media's use of their platforms to promote an agenda, or for the purpose of propaganda to benefit a political party or political outcome, is exactly why we are no longer,
(United States)!