Footstool Poems

Tale of the Book

The book contained their history—  
Years of servitude and plenitude,  
Years of gloom and bloom,  
Years of darkness and redemption.  

They were bound by the chains of the unknown,  
Seeds of anguish were strangely sown.  
The land was the footstool of malevolent spirits,  
An enigma blanketed it.  

It was a battle of the seen and unseen,  
A war against malicious forces,
The sages searched deeply for answers,  
Sojourning to secret chambers for redemption.  

Hope gradually wore thin,  
And the courage of valiant hearts began to fray,
Their steadfast minds were steadily pierced by defeat rays,  
As a deluge of recalcitrant assailants descended upon them.  

A rebirth came with the arrival of the sages,
The spirits of the forest were summoned,
They joined forces with the elements of goodwill  
And defeated the malevolent spirits,  
Chasing them to the abyss of nothingness.  

Pride filled the heart of the new ruler,  
Who boasted of the sovereignty of his reign, 
He disdained the Divine and the watchers,  
But one day, darkness suddenly pervaded his palace.  
He was gone, and so was the book.


February 3, 2025.

First Love

You are my first love
my eternal Father and husband
whose love for me is as endless
the depths of the blue holes
and will never fade from me
into the trade winds

You are my first love
my eternal provider and comforter
whose presence I find my joy and delight
and the supplier
of all my heart's desires
whose lips are seasoned with grace

You are my first love
my eternal lover and king
always wooing me into your arms
the only occupant
of the throne in my heart
unwilling to settle for
being the footstool

You are my first love
my eternal protector and healer
who is the restorer
of my strength
the house of refuge
from my enemies
and the lifeguard from
my sea of inequities

I'Ll Be Right Back

Embroidery whose titan never gets credit
An empire whose founder is long forgotten
And exists only as an adage, whose tale relives
Long forgotten history
History that ministered hope to those dimming out
Shone paths to those whose itinerary was threatened by
Dark dusks and cloudy daytimes
A magnate whose reputation was the
Long run cup of poison, brewed enough to take his life
An army general whose subordinates conspired and unseated
Him, uncrowned him from glory with thorns
A trusted cognate who is declared illegitimate at the reading
Of a will
We all are victims of our previous milestones misunderstood
Fruitful efforts unappreciated and rightful places robbed
Once we were at the pinnacle but we only stare up at it
From the footstool we found ourselves suddenly
The peak of one mountain seemingly the bottom of the other
The tempting decision to drop off the pinnacle and grow wings
To land on the top of Everest or the slopes of Aberdares
Whichever the outcome let it be loud,
You were once at the top, and you are back there!

Something Ordinary

The cat sat on the footstool.
The curtains hang closed.
The toothbrush holder contains two brushes
The cat stretches, jumps down, miaows at the door.
The moon is full
Bush freshens the air
Cat jumps through the doorway
Streetlight illuminates the pathway
Toothbrushes chatter
Water rushes by
Cat softly taps his paws on the glass door
Runs inside, warmth
Lights out
Moving sleepily
Cats eyes wide awake
Piano plays Chopins Noctourne Opus 27 no 2

Footstool

"O, to have a kingdom 
Its subjection so sweet!
Golden, like Solomon's
Footstool, for my feet.

Rest from my enemies,
Trampled into dust,
Falling at my feet,
Like so much sawdust.

Behold my sovereignty!
My judgment is supreme!
Try to fight back, and
My methods are extreme!

Wealth from my wisdom
Will secure all my dreams,
Then to stay in power
Requires constant schemes."

"Ironic you should blather
While I execute your demise!
Messiah sits at My right-hand,
While I squeeze you with My vise!

'I AM' building Him a footstool,
Putting ALL beneath His feet!
All enemies will be vanquished!
Your subjection is so sweet!

Come worship at My footstool,
Be subject to My decree.
The wicked will be trampled,
But the righteous shout with glee!

Let the kings of the earth tremble
At the darkness I'll unleash
My storm clouds, see them billow?
So, repent or perish, capisce?"

"David had it in his heart
To build a house for Me,
Complete with a footstool,
So this kingdom I'll repeat."

Wonderful But Weird

I have my coffee now and
sit upon
a chair that gives me comfort;
have TV,
a roaring fire, and footstool,
and myself.
So perfect, I find it odd —
oh, so weird.


(March 2022)

The Best Vacation

By train, we went
Then bus’ ascent
In winter cool
To God’s footstool*
A hill station
Such elation!

The clouds descend
That heady blend
Of earth and sky
I sure feel high!
Foggy mornings
Chilly warnings

Draped in warm clothes
Joyful repose
Zigzagging way
Where flowers play
I loved that place
Natural grace

Wedding of friend
We did attend
Linking of souls
On mountain rolls
Sweet sensation
Best vacation!



02.03.2022


*Isaiah 66:1a - "Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool..."

Essie's Self-Portrait

Immortalized in acrylic before you evaporated
as quickly as the paint dried in the autumn sunset,
you stuck yourself in a frame in my mind’s museum.

Rendered motionless by the inherent
motionlessness
of color on canvas,
your feet propped precariously on
our velvet footstool, you toss glances
from your painted eyes, like roses
from our balcony.

You occupy the headspace above
the headboard, the frame’s edge almost skimming
the ceiling, the hem of your evening gown just missing
the floor.

In this endless expanse of time,
stretching out like a cornfield after a harvest,
I must wait for the autumn sunset.
I sit on my canvas, drying like a corn husk
left in the heat, the water of my life vanishing
into the motionless silence.

Earth

Endless stretches of the heavens
Across the stars, galaxies and eternal voids
Realms of gods, angels, spirits and venerated ancestors,  
Thus says the LORD:
Heaven is My throne and the earth is My footstool.


~05/16/21
~Contest: Planets
~Sponsor: Matt Caliri

Wonders of Springtime

A tender sun caresses my thoughts, whispering to me of new life, new hope, new joy. A laughing glimpse of daffodil blooms tantalize me with their buttery yellow smiles. Whispers of light reflect off the dawn, kissing my shoulders with a brush of kindness. Musical birds color the azure skies, tittering and chuckling with guffaws of delighted choruses embracing my heart, preening and praising through the heavens. Like a breath, gentle and warm, budding oak, birch and maple sway through a gentle wind as it blows in, thirsty for sweet rain that nurtures the growing dreams of these elderly aristocrats. Winter has finally birthed the rich, vibrant sighs of a Springtime child – delivering pure delight, insight, inspiration, a fullness that penetrates fantasies and imaginations! This is the time for God’s joy to overflow into the earth we know as heaven’s footstool and man’s home for this life.

intense promises
colors so full they kindle
wonders of Springtime







N/A from Springtime Haibun Contest sponsored by M.L. Kiser, judged on 4/5/21

Today entering Final 2021 N-A Choice 3 Poetry Contest by William Kekaula, on May 4, 2021

Ruby Shopping Trip

Ruby Shopping Trip

I spent my day shopping for rubies 
 Among the carnelian dewdrops;
Gazing into garnet and golden skies -
 Inhaling coral rose scent through raindrops.

I spent my twilight in an andesine sunset;
 Fire opals lighting up in constellations;
Twinkling spinels mined from crimson dwarfs;
 Star rubies flash smiles in jubilation.

I spent my midnight dreaming of cinnabar -
 Visions of chests filled with jewels;
Spellbound - enchanted -wealth unimagined -
Only to find it on nature’s footstool.

7-26-20
Contest: First Line Prompt

Cradle of Life

Intense heat ripples across 
the vast sand dunes of the Serengeti 
where it intersects with the
silent shores of a rare desert lake 
a calm, cool oasis for both 
man and beast. 

Taj Mahal of the desert 
it is a liquid cradle of life
coveted by a thousand tongues 
as languid lake mesmerizes
drawing all that breathes
to its scarce waters, casting a
mirage like spell, beckoning 
with reflections set off by
the hot desert sun, to come. 

Salvation for the weary traveler 
primal waters implore, drink!
Drink to the full, and be filled!
For blessings, unforeseen 
are at this footstool of life
a sacred spot, touched by
the hands of heaven
offering a haven of rest, respite 
and tranquility for all who want. 




Written on 4/9/2019

Mink Voltage

The people’s choice
ain’t always the right footstool fit
Crown a throne sitter
with electric glam fanfare
Light the bright Roman candles
for a cancer stick spitter ...
See the fireworks in the air:

Inter
Continental 
Ballistic
Missives

got voter arm drone sent
Cheek chicanery 
is puffing pride  hellbent

The home plate people say,
they know how to get around third base
The silent majority 
whistle kicked a ballot bray:
Said they know how to rule and regulate

Mute mules got a gut promise packet
burst in their purse belly
White powder vows telly 
is a politrician mix:  Rublecon racket

Dressed to deceive,
they wear the gorgeous mink sable
Eyes often believe
spit paid broadcast signal on cable

Raw mink voltage
is copper wire insular selectable
Red carpet dotage
give Venus fly idol cries
to the froggy princes they chose

If the cold iron velvet glove
fits tight rightly on the bow hand
Send the poison arrow love
into bent hearts prone to knelling

Roller-Coaster

So carefully chosen
the augmented thread of clarity
inside the birds nest
and from out of its maze
to find some sense of confusion
and teased apart the fibers 
of all my questions

And for this moment I hung
my life on its precipitous rope
dangling there in the vacuum
between the mountain
and how the distance in its footstool
can end on a rocks cadaverous crunch

Am I rolling towards oblivion
on yet another high
giddy with the feeling
of suddenly knowing why

AH !
These moments exuberant
as they counterbalance 
when I spilled my guts
to tell the world how outraged I really was
and with my pennant string
jerked at my puppets arms
on the hangman's jig I did my little dance
and all for just one final gasp

Best be this tantrum stamp
tearful cry and plead
to scratch at the tiny things
my unimportant imaginings
and consider my attention has gained some kind of diversion
with which to be preoccupied
tomorrow I’m sure I will feel more satisfied 

Riding on my own roller-coaster
barreling forward towards oblivion
on yet another high

It's Time To Rest

It's time to rest
and put my feet
on this footstool:
God will stand up
and work wonders...
do I deserve them?

It's time to rest
to feel at peace
with myself and be
assured I am bound
for a great victory!

It's time to rest
and let all the worries
and anxieties be His;
it's a peaceful sunset,
and I can lay down... 
not fearing darkness!

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