Teresa of Ávila
Dreamt the passion of God.
A physical fire
Burned an image of his power.
An image I envisioned was one so dull
Full of pain
A nightmare stabbing my mind's eye.
A frail image of my mother
Some quivering voice I remember
In my dimension of inception
That my mother was at her end.
A disruptive anxiety burdens a peace
But that day, it was at bay.
Paralysed by a hidden sight that I couldn't bear
Petrified by a dream, one that was so rare.
This despicable numbness I endure
Sympathises the fools of fiction.
As reality shapes its needle
To fill with its anaesthesia of truth
And inject into those who walk in wonder.
Today, I trudged through that trail
Of some twenty-fourth year
My Lucky Strike ablaze
And my hands on the balcony window.
Experiencing no sore throat
That I remembered from youth,
Only a deep sensation of numbed limbs
Suffering this cold spring night.
Even the cigarette wasn't fazed
Of the wind’s devouring passion
Blowing its burning ashes.
Shavuos, a holiday with two different faces
One in an uncultivated desert
The other on a cultivated farm...
On Shavuos itself Jews soar to the highest of heights
But this poem's about the run-up, pre-flight
For it's all about how well you prepare
that determines the outcome when you get there
God whisked Israel from Egypt to Sinai in 45 days
Then gave them the Torah without undue delay
One face of Shavuos is therefore called 'Weeks'
Jews count seven of them, then on Sinai God speaks...
The Festival of First Fruits takes five years to evolve
For the first three, there's no touching a tree
In the fourth year, that fruit tree is holy
In the fifth year, in Jerusalem, Israel partakes, finally
What is the reason for these two different faces
God didn't tell us, He left us no traces
But I think there's a lesson: We reap what we sow
~ The longer we anticipate, the more we grow
How vast and pervasive is the Moon?
Hugeness hints there stand two
Orbs and a turbulent stream
Simply like the dawning sun
All over the half-moon horizon.
On the shore of credulity
The froth shed detritus and sea salt
Carving a path into level sand
Slicing the weft out of silk
By cutting across the fabric kernel
The waves were sealed on the scanty shore
The furor was in harmony with the dust
Pearl-like seaweed and scrubber.
Moonlight over the Sea at Dawn
It is ideal and so spectacularly tempting
The churning water bred white foam
I am enthusiastic to have the plunge
The tendons, sinews, and guts were all wary
A season invests these twilight hours
Fetch the ache and gentleness
Misleading magnetism
My inner mermaid is hopeless
The moon was merely out of the embrace.
It related me to a no-blue world
Spume was kicked by white ponies
As they did in our fourth year of dreams
Cantering toward the welling of time
In the utter stiffness at the two ends
Do not feel dire about shedding tears
The spectrum of the dull light
We never noticed.
Written: October 29, 2022
This is my eighty-fourth year of life
Managed to get through with minimal strife
One of the lucky ones
Managed to overcome
All the pitfalls so what's ahead in the afterlife
LEAP YEAR
Jumping a day in February on every fourth year
three hundred sixty-six days appear
in a leap year, no error, clean clear,
welcoming Olympic.
02/10/20
Fourth Place
' 'Great Leap Forward Contest by Beth Evans
It is like that of a leaping rabbit who hop on all four,
Twenty-twenty, would then leap an added four more,
Leap at each fourth year, a day February would score,
As for a century leaps at every four hundred years.
2020 January 19
Great Leap Forward Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beth Evans
Good actor, yet Razzie Award winner, Rob Lowe,
was one of People Magazine’s “Most Beautiful” although
his hair he has dyed since the day
in his twenty-fourth year that he says he went grey!
A prime role was once offered Rob Lowe:
“Doctor McDreamy” on a hit show.
But he took on instead
two lame shows that went dead,
having stupidly let "West Wing" go!
In the 80’s a sex scandal plagued young Rob, yet
an Emmy for "West Wing" this comeback kid would get.
Also, his three-decade marriage has had no end!
This he attributes to marrying his best friend.
Sept 16, 2019
for Mark Toney's Clerimerick Couplets (Hybrid Form) Poetry Contest
Fourth year of bemoaning fellow Filipinos,
Justice wasn’t served yet to our Commandos,
Whose desire is safe haven to live, I suppose,
But nightmare of SAF Troopers were impose,
Which will certainly be like hunting shadows.
01/25/2015, when our Mother Unit flooded with lamentation,
Either way, corruption was everybody’s quotation,
Destroying soldiers of God is a big damnation,
That will totally devastate the hearts of the nation,
HIS chosen armies are the backbone and our foundation.
SAF 44, your heroism will never be forgotten,
Lies, greediness, and power will soon be rotten,
Grieving families let your hearts be soften,
Eventually, God will call for justice to our fallen,
Do not lose hope, nor let your faith to be shorten.
BROTHERS IN ARMS….LEST WE FORGET….
We planted love inside our hearts
a rooted tree, when but a seedling
Carved our initials deep in the trunk
with rings worn on our left fingers
In early Spring of its second year
a budded sprout began to grow
By mid Summer of its fourth year
branches drooped and became brittle
In Autumn, its leaves fluttered and fell
roots were exposed to the ground above
Winter snows left it gasping for breath
The tree weakened, hollow and dying
Uprooted, it fell upon the ground
and now lays covered in fungi and moss
Long ago in my memory, a tree grew roots
Limbs entwined like a groom and his bride
The carving in its bark crumbled and I cried
From somewhere near, a lone owl hoots
Leap year babes party every fourth year
When their birthday arrives they can cheer
But on a positive note
It would surely get MY vote
Getting old is something they won’t fear!
15th September 2016
It's the summer of my fourth year.
Dad is driving us to the seashore.
The sun follows us, a happy fellow,
beaming in the mid-morning’s azure sky.
In the back seat with my two sisters, I’m looking out the window
as I crunch on Mom’s homemade salty Chex Mix,
anticipating the warmth of salt spray
from the waves I’ll be jumping on this beautiful day -
Life is a beach not yet even in my vocabulary.
We are now at the shore, a large blanket laid out,
Mom with her bright red hair tied back with a brighter red check scarf,
and my dad, dark-haired and handsome, smiling.
So rare is this happy countenance he wears today!
For a while I sit as if entranced, watching the waves roll in.
But eventually, and predictably, my joy ebbs like the tide.
Dark clouds are gathering; gray begins to envelop the sky.
I look over to my dad; the gray has recaptured his face.
In the vanishing sunlight, familiar dark thoughts invade my mind -
Dad, can I see you be happy just once for a whole day?
Rain . . . always it rains when we go to the seashore.
I CRY EVERYDAY... NOW WITH NO TEARS
But now...
I cry everyday...now with no tears
Trickling down my cheeks like my first year
We are on count of the fourth year... wedlock
I made up my mind to dry my tears from within
For my man enjoys those tears from me
Considered to be weak and indeed a weaker vessel
So, I now cry within ... with no tears outside
Am I becoming a strong woman now?
At least for my son whom I cherish so much
My son who by now sees my tears as normal
But within my heart, I know am not strong
I know am embittered
Tortured psychologically
Raped mentally
Then, I wish
And I wish I wake up from this dreadful dream
AST
1.05am
15/04/2015
Conjure from a true life story
one peonie
three years old with one shoot...
fourth year two shoots blooms
Come's, our two thousand and ninety-fourth year;
the earth is green, and the atmosphere clear.
The mimosa and kudzu continue to grow,
and which shall prevail – does anyone know?
The kudzu is stronger and more eager to win,
but the winter remains mimosa’s old friend.
Humans? They’ve become an insignificant bunch;
living under mimosa, having kudzu for lunch.
“Self loathing” bade them quit the great chase,
now they have become the ridiculed race.
None knows for sure who shall finally rule,
but betting on man would be that of a fool.
Kudzu creeps strongly and relentlessly on,
and mimosa’s seed is everywhere blown.
They’ve crowded away every other kind,
leaving only vine and fern leaf behind.
By kudzu, in summer, mimosa is bent.
In winter, ol’ kudzu’s energy is spent.
Then, seed of mimosa filters on through;
bringing revival of the fern leaf anew.
Humans, as animals, scurry around,
and dwindle in number as the fauna abound.
It would have been different; this comical end,
if they had “subdued”, as told by a Friend.
Gen. 1:28 “Be fruitful and multiply, replenish
the earth and subdue it”
Lionel
OYLMPIC MEDALS-
Olympus’s memory told with a long told history of games,
A long list of contests and all the winners names.
Gigantic proportions held at the equator each fourth year,
Winners to leave with a sum and a medal to hold dear.
World politics split the Olympic Games into sections,
Communist threat spread, and it was decided on segregation.
All voted it was best just to stay here at home,
Then it was split, China stayed there we went to Rome.
Our version of the Olympics were held separately in different towns,
Across many nations with secrecy it was bound.
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