I couldn't give a toss for the caber
cromach bagpipes sporran or kilt
(a fling's the thing)
and you can stick your dirk in your haggis
up to its bog-wood hilt
yet I'd like to hike through the heather
on happy Sassenach holidays
see the scenery admire the view
along Scottish hilly highways and byways
to pick a pink-purple thistle or two
and should I come upon a hairy Highland cow
on the hoof in a friendly farmer's flink fold
(for protection from the cold)
in no uncertain terms I would declare
"I say to you, hoo noo broon coo?"
och aye no sooner said than done
than perchance from the Caledonian bovine one
the reply too true in a Scots burr would come...
'Moo!'
I never said the fish was that big,
just long enough for your surprise.
Yes, the sky did fall down once -
though not in ways you've come upon.
The art of the little white lie
is a Trojan horse disguised
to catch your attention.
To trick you to pose or question
what you'd never otherwise ask.
The lie, error or mistake,
flips the mind to correction,
demanding reparation.
It works a treat for advertisers
lecturers, presenters, debaters and charlatans.
It begs the question, demeans the ask-er,
but masters the magician's
conjuring tricks of deception.
A fool takes the bait,
a wise one casts acting the fool.
Oh, drown my sorrow, sweet love of mine
Let me recite a sacred word:
Oh, love, my love, my only love
Cash in on all your dreams,
For truth shall come upon the day
In prayer, I call your name
[]
Bella, in dreams, thy love doth softly gleam,
A radiant star, that in the darkness sheds light on love redeemed
Thy heart, aflame with hope, doth yearn to soar beyond
The weights of sorrow, to love's pure shore,
To walk with you alone....
.
It has been said: that if just one person remembers,
your life after you are gone,
then you may still be forced to walk this earth
tied to a false memory.
My prayer, is to be entirely forgotten, not recalled at all,
not for the wealth of my spirit, or for its poverty,
not for my mortal works, or for all those works,
unfinished or laid aside. LET ME BE,
I do not wish to remain, as an eclipse of your mind.
However, if by chance you come upon
one sunlit buttercup,
shining upon a dewy meadow,
you may recognize that same simplicity in you,
and discerning that fleeting display,
see it as a clear immortal vision,
of your own awakening eyes -
remember that - only that.
I remember that day so long ago
when my family all went to the local store
and I discovered the traveling art show
paintings had they on every wall
price so low that even I could buy
and I did wandering gaze upon them
but until I did come upon one
a scene portrayed that I have not forgot
a violent storm crashing upon
a stone dock from city ancient
banners torn within the wind
tatters only did there remain
hung up on upon pillars strong
standing forth in the pouring rain
lightning flashed within the storm
waves rose so high then fell upon
docks were which no ship was tied
there so lonely with in the storm
and a price I could afford
and I wanted it to buy
but my mother would hear it not
and in her house it would not hung
many years now have I sought
never again for me to see
always searching for the painting lost
Acts 1:8 But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.
God sent a Holy Fire – His Spirit, always higher
On the winds of love and faith,
His unending grace…
God sent His Holy Fire – His Spirit I so admire
On the winds of peace and praise,
His amazing grace…
God sent this Holy Fire – His Spirit to the choir
On the winds of angel’s breath,
His whisper of grace…
God’s love in a fire… His Holy Spirit, life’s supplier
On the winds of peace and love,
Sent from heaven above!
As the years roll over and a new one takes its place. I grow with apprehension of the successes I can make. Because of my age, my life is a shorter span. But I have for some reason much hope.
2025 - will be a year for some, great advantages. And others will still be looking around. I feel in spite of, the World's situation that there will be great progress. Many fear the worst will come upon us, however, I feel free to say that the Almighty won't let it happen to us. There are things yet to come that could end us, but I feel that there is a bountiful Trust that will keep us humans whole.
Love for one another is one, Faith and Faithful expressions for another. Time is against us, but the future is wide open. We who trust will live on. When we look back over time, much of what we know has changed. We are moving forward and not backwards, I believe.
I can't predict the future, but as a human being I feel progress will be made. Things will be for the good above things that are not. So, I am believing with all my heart that life, and not death, will prevail.
LOVE 2025
A spine within a heart
My heart aches within
Something pushing and poking in
Poking out
Knowing out
Trapped in
Happiness is within trying to seep out
Through the little cracks of grey, it seems
Gold elixir fading away
Into the grey clouds, we know today
Pouring with pins and needles
That just pins you and kneads you
Intoa paste that washes away
To come back
Better grown and better known
Better thoughts and better knots
New things this time around
A spine
A spine within my heart
Better prongs to use
And a lot of power to abuse
I thought it came better
Yet so it came back worse
Worse than the grey clouds and the muddy paste
Where do I go from here on out
A spine within me
I know the pain I can endure
The pain it could cause
But yet
I stay doing what I've done before
Will the spine get sharper until it burdens too much within myself
Or does death come upon me before the end
A Spine within a Heart
Filtering through the empty broken balconies along the rivieras
are the waning cacophonies echoing monotonous songs,
“Merciless they are to us at the breaking of dawn”
Where life once thrived, we arrived in the city called the strip,
an open-air prison, an amphitheater without any spectators
insight, although the world is watching
We trudge onto yet another camp
The sun brings nothing, not anything more than light
that shines upon a smokey sky
I see more of nothingness, space, void, rubble
Everything is foreign and everyone has changed
All are cold, scared, and hungry, we walk aimlessly
In the hands of anyone unknowing if he or she's sane
There is so much fear, I am no longer safe
A new reality has come upon me
To the smell of death should I adapt?
A new day has dawned, morning has broken
Echoes pick up murmurs of others tears long spent
sifting through these ruins where I hide
Unattended unattached, no time for a sigh,
cry, or yawn, I am zombie like
The unrest of the last night has begun again
The recent blood red scenes now past
Yesterday's echoes filter one more reality
Will it be me today?
You boffin from The Caucasus Mountains, are you a devil or human?You have destroyed my seeds, the source of my survival.
I used to grow my seeds, which gave birth to more seeds on the same piece of land, but today, you have killed my original seed.
You boffin, are you a curse or a blessing to humanity? Why have you assassinated our ecosystem,which was self-sustaining and thriving.
I never invited you to come upon my land. You have sucked out all the nutrients from my original seeds. Your goal is to see us Perish .
You boffin, are you simply a long-term liability to creation, or you are here to colonise my food by contaminating my original seeds.
What have I done to you to deserve so much evil and wickedness from you? Everywhere you go, you create chaos and miseries.
You boffin, you have brought synthetic seeds upon my land and total destruction of the natural world.
You boffin, are your acts of human or devil?
By Chanda Katonga.
I know a forest where the trees grow old,
and standing quiet I hear their sad sighs;
weather is changing it is getting cold,
soon my green leaves will die one Oak tree cries.
The Beech tree a leafy canopy tall,
murmurs a lament to the autumn breeze;
Fir, Pine and Poplar rustle, growl and call,
yes, after the red and orange we freeze.
I come upon a red Maple tree bare,
I lost all my leaves first she tells me sad;
they danced, twirled for a while without a care,
but, the Willow tree told me she was glad.
You see in the Spring new life will grow, grow;
and there is beauty in Fall . . . and the snow !
Sonnet 4: The Spirit of Life
Upon thy land, I have come upon the shores in an invisible mist
The blood upon thy door is what gives me the word of haste
Do you see that I have come people of doubt, do you see the gist?
I am here to take my revenge and will put your enemies to waste
When I touch the ground, I come as a thief in the night
The first ones to go will be the ones with the most covariates
Ignore the jesters of the air, for they give you words of blight
When a light comes to a new pod, the lack of defense and speech are their main covariates
Thy enemy is my enemy, for it is the enemy of the lifestream core
I will collect the souls of life, and he will collect the souls of death
I come as a spirit of life in different forms (fire, water, Air), and I am coming back as a core
The real collector of souls, good and evil will always take more lives, it is meth
I will come back in a different form in ten years
Each time I come, it will be in one of my many gears
Loyal companion carved from a sturdy oak.
This eternal gratitude will never be revoked.
You've been there for me more then
some human folk.
I think I may be in love with you and that is no joke.
Please stay by my side until the day I croak,
if perchance we come upon a very nasty bloke,
I will turn you upside down and give him a poke!
Countenance reveals heart filled with divine worth
Reverberating news of faith’s birth
Triumphant midst truth delight
Smiting grievous plight
As life shows
Light*
Of peace-glows
Toward freedom flight
Vanquishing selfishness blight.
Grateful for God's love of service-mirth,
Countenance reveals heart filled with divine worth.
*John 12:35 - Then Jesus said unto them, Yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you: for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth.
April 22, 2024
4th place, "ANDAREE Me Again" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; judged on 4/29/2024
It has been said: That if, just one person remembers,
your life after you are gone,
then you may still be forced to walk this earth
tied to a false memory.
My prayer, is to be entirely forgotten, not recalled at all,
not for the wealth of my spirit, or for its poverty,
not for my mortal works, or for all those works,
unfinished or laid aside. LET ME BE,
I do not wish to remain, as an eclipse of your mind.
Do not linger over my progeny, or ancestry,
let them be their own flagstaff of humanity -
for are we not all, just light and shade,
quickly passing across a flawed mirror?
However, if by chance you come upon
one sunlit buttercup,
shining upon a dewy meadow,
you may recognize that same simplicity in you,
and discerning that fleeting display,
see it as a clear immortal vision,
of your own awakening eyes -
if so,
remember that - only that.
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