How to give.? Why give? In giving we can reach out..Renewal springs from giving..Giving
Is more powerful if from a glad spirit.' In
Fertile increase beleive.' For giving echoes of abundance.' God is truly so.' Rich in all things, both spiritual and physical..Give and reap in the Name above all names, feed the spirits of those you meet, give to
Your animals, speak soothing words to them, open your spirit to God, and He will
Open your spiritual ears and eyes ever more, for He is the source of all that uplifts, He dispenses all that endures in
Goodness, praise Him as you rise, as you
Work.' As you prepare for sleep, let blessings be upon your lips continually
Praise the Lord for He alone is worthy.!
God’s creation dispenses comforts.
Many of man’s creation deliver frets.
AI, the weapon of the wisest,
Adds no more cognizance to the existing.
Don’t assume it a dumb servant.
It will take us under its authority.
There will be a pandemonium as
The reality would go under the covers of falsity.
One day, the whole world will seek a philosopher's help
Ethics, values, and logics of life will be the new lessons.
Creation of technology is all right.
Let it not be a cremation of human threads.
Place: 1st
For Timothy Lee
You excite all my senses.
I happily lack any defenses
against stimuli your love dispenses.
Your ways lack false pretenses.
Whenever together, true joy commences.
Eyes, ears, taste, scents, touch -
all intoxicate me so much.
My heart and soul clutch
because our love grants such.
You are my sweet penuche.
Thoughts of me and you
paint a picture perfect view.
Our combination is love's brew
sweet seeped through and through.
Daily, love gifts us anew.
Longing to witness the necklace of the horizon's dress,
Dreamer, as friends affectionately address.
Building castles in the mind's eye,
Imagery where fairyland dazzles high.
Woven in reverie, miracles appear,
A red carpet of bubbling desire draws near.
Swaying in the mystic ballet, I lose my senses,
As a flicker of light through the stillness dispenses.
Vision unfolds in kaleidoscopic hues,
As the spirit of the universe pulsates in blues.
On Memorial of St. Dominic
We remember that man who sought to teach the truth in service to Father Christ
The Master Teacher
Every age has its errors
As Dominic encountered with Albigensian heresy over 800 years ago
In our time
We are likewise called to proclaim the truth both clarity
Charity
No matter our state in life Eternal God calls us to serve within our own unique capacities
Circumstances
Talents
The closer we grow to the Lord
The more dispenses the grace to persevere in holiness
Just as Saint Dominic followed Eternal God piously to lead the wayward to repentance
So
Too
Should we look inwardly and then outwardly to embrace the Gospel
Heavenly Eternal Father
Our world is full of confusion
Dissent from the truth
As we seek to live Your holy will
May we look the example of Saint Dominic
Who only spoke to You
About You
We pray this in Father Christ’ holy Name
Justin McClain, O.P.
Turned to Poetry: Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Poetry Form: Free Verse/Narrative
Date turned to Poetry: 8032024
Time turned to Poetry: 9:18pm
LETTERINGS
expressing
the
vulnerable
impressions
in
a
customary
sophisticated
interplay
surfaces
draped
frozen
in contrasts
natural
unaware
as
light
dispenses
mercy
intimidation
subordinate
to
aesthetics
focussed
then
parting
with
passions
enslaced
albeit
leaning
toward
longing
&parting
&desire
underlining
in
solitary
fragmentd
desolate
glimpses
met head on
The reign of death will last as long as time
when my last fruit changes into wormwood
the death of life is not misunderstood
when candles lit will cause the bells to chime
silent in death's repose lay I disguised
this end will count the minuscule of years
and quell the fear unknown when it appears
from Heaven's Kingdom minds have actualized
no way can I vanquish the time of death
dispenses me as if a rotten gourd
the fear of what's beyond in silence grows
when life cannot sustain the fate of breath
I'll find Charon's ferry and get aboard
the question asked of truth is no one knows
4/6/23 contest I Died
Box Off
The black box that tells of approaching enemy missiles is turned off
The black box that jams enemy missiles it turned off
The black box that dispenses radar jamming chaff is turned off
The black box that launches infra-red flares is turned off
The black box that gives out false position locations is turned off
The black box that plots enemy defence locations is turned off
The black box that steers a course round enemy radars is turned off
The black box that sees enemy anti-aircraft guns is turned off
The black box that should save our jet and our lives is turned off
We are now dead and our warplane is now destroyed
The black box should’ve been turned on
Someone in a small town
may know
I will ask those winds
that travel everywhere at once
Behind a counter
far from here
a wrinkled man
dispenses tablets
that cure-all
I'd be more than happy to endow my beam to you,
equally, I trust you'll impart with your own smirk too.
That is a proem forward into world harmony,
A prized seed with extremely useful whimsy.
I will endow my food with a smile,
And I'm confiding you'll nod in your style.
This feast is middling for two persons,
It is possible if we could deter arsons.
This majestic tree dispenses shade,
Nature has conveyed us with a unique cascade.
For everyone who needs to take it easy,
Let us enjoy it all around, indeed... globally!
I'd be heartily risen to relate my entity to you,
For every one of the dignities, we are apt to do.
The season minds about us, today,
While lavish panegyrics pave the way.
Accordingly, share a smile; this is a start rally.
An extraordinary beginning's blissful inventively.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: March 6th, 2022
World Peace Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Exit the Autumnal Equinox
David J Walker
Decades of decay line the lanes of
Seasonal death scenes descending to
Another frozen winter
The master of the Autumnal Equinox
dispenses its mercies
At best sparingly
Transitions subtle
Under the blended reflection
of a cooler sun
Yellow as yarrow
Rusted blood red orange
Pinks disappear on
The western horizon
Dark mountains lined
With Aspin and Pine
Only get in the way
Of Autumn leaving and
Winters grand entrance
In a distant storm
Formed
in ice and snow
woman on her scooter scoops chili
from her insulated bag
onto plastic plates
deftly juggling movement while the motor idles
wounded humanity, street people with shock eyes
that smash against the heat,
form a line
their off beat grins that recall the fertility
of hope
men accepting plates of food, paper thin pride
soreness in bony bodies that have no words for
self pity
stitched to her bike, she dispenses hot food for the
mercurial
in city streets, a sparse ground with patches
of charity
fertile soil for those tossed like bags in a storm
burdened by a brutal calm
devoid of the green weeds of ego
Poem composed: August 18/21
AMBUSH
There are times
when you walk down the hall to
yet another meeting, walk from your
car to the strip mall pharmacy that dispenses
your Viagra, or stand before a classroom of
dedicated students for another stimulating lecture
on urban ecosystems, that some sound, some color,
some geometric pattern triggers unwanted memories
about people you loved that didn’t get your best,
that were somehow roughed up by the mean,
the mercurial, the muscular machinations that
served your righteous way forward and
suddenly your are naked, a declining
physique with an fascinating tapestry of surgical
scars, blotches and bruises from rugby,
relationships and reckless behaviors, and the people
around you are unknowing, unforgiving, uncomfortable
with your silence, wishing you’d move on instead of
searching in the hallway, the cracked parking lot, your
hand-written lecture notes for the clothing and armor that
have carried you this far or at least for a robe that might
hide the embarrassment of your shame and your guilt
and the nasty suspicion that, given another
chance, you’d behave the same way again!
I write upon the mirror of youth’s pizzazzy.
Stunning, clear, ravishing - the Spring of life.
Enjoy the pure lilt of her eyes.
She can handle close-ups.
Boys praise unblemished frame with no experience.
Tan-Summer glow draws herself a husband.
I write upon the mirror of my Autumn brand.
Her wrinkles letting go of each pretense.
Wine cascades into grateful cup,
dispenses with the lies.
Snuggles with spouse - let’s go of bitterness and strife.
Frees herself, uninhibited, jazzy.
I write upon the Winter mirror of esprit.
She’s looking forward to the afterlife.
With tears in eyes says her goodbyes.
Endearing - the close-ups
of kith and kin warmth. See! There’s no need for defense.
Tell heaven, her life has been grand.
2/2/2021
My Invented Form - I Write Upon Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
12/10/8/6/12/10 syllable lines each stanza
abcdef fedcba abcdef
HMS, RhymeZone and PS Grammar Checker *
*Merriam-Webster includes pizzazzy.
**After the first lines in each verse,
the mirror speaks
Whispers from a golden sycamore,
it willingly dispenses green leaf secrets to us souls in autumn phase.
Branches creak but somehow never break despite the brittle onslaughts from an ever changing volatile environment.
Sagacious watchdogs for all seasons whose edges blur with every global warming or zero arctic plummet.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, surreal reckless slideshows... sideshows upon a wider world that’s scrambling to catchup.
Yet these stoic trees endure our wantoness so bravely,
the foiled attempts at damage limitation, those madcap retro schemes that flop like couch potatoes on a sofa.
Tall and proud they stand with stout forbearance.
Why not give your favorite tree a well-earned hug?
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