I asked him, my friend
Who are the heroes of the world?
He said, "Heroes, the War-Giants."
Alexander to Maj. Gen. Herald Ikiants,
Revolutionaries – Ideologues, Demagogues.” He named.
I quizzed his seminal brain
"What about saviors and saints?"
He was composite and took no strain
To answer my query pains,
“Of course, Saints!”
And he had no feel of hailing
The heroes of war veins
As he believes history’s kneeling
And he trusts in evidence
So scientific and evidence.
"History is past blundrance." I tried.
He only said very firm
"It is evidence."
"Learn from the evidence"-I,
He confirms, he uses occurrence
As he still has a belief
History repeats itself.
He proves again quoting History mischief,
History does not repeat, but rewritten with the dictum
"History is not of warriors but of the makers of life"
The Earth would only say
"How mean you are
Learn from the past errors."
** In Evidence **
Go now! Get a title down
……………………………before the ending
E va por ate s
leaving
as i praise
Our Most Holy Lord
— glorious, omnipotent, eternal ——
yet approachable:
Ever-Present
God
weaving our lives together…
securely knotting the threads
and
as our prayers rise…
His quick blessings quenching
rain
——————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 5/3/2024
Thanks be to God
HERITAGE
Like a last puff of dust from an empty room
Almost a cough, as the last sign of life calls
From times when it was a bustling residence
Now deserted, with nothing left in evidence
No tinkle of the childish laughter in the halls
Just shuttered windows and this silent gloom
A house with history, both the good and bad
Gone, and few that now do hardly remember
Yet it was often the talk of those in high places
And some local resentment in particular cases
All the contents auctioned off last November
With death duties, the house left to the nation
Grounds are no longer regularly maintained
Since that final decision, all staff were let go
Now, just a few black crows in attendance
None left to inherit, no living descendants
Lost secrets that now no-one will ever know
At least, reputations may be left unstained
Severe disaster brought
Ruination and disruptive vegetation.
A scorching breeze increased devastation,
From unscrupulous persons unknown:
Hidden fierce fire
That spread rapidly.
A hush,
For no life could be in evidence,
Except for stouthearted firefighters
Risking their cherished lives.
A wild dry wind swirled suddenly.
Smoke became untamed,
An aching purgatory
No ocean can purge.
The fiery cloud
Covered the forest green;
Moonlight snuffed out,
Concealed, tormented,
A message of ill will,
As children cried and gasped,
Families were reduced homeless,
In hurry to elope from the tragedy.
Helpless animals unable to escape died.
A taste of vandalism,
Or terrorism?
Or man made climate change?
Spare a thought for the plight of resilience,
As most walk past in silence,
Pretending not to notice,
As others dampen all resistance,
To those who call time on a life of resilience,
In favour of one of drug dependence,
With good behaviour earning no remittance,
And no change in evidence,
As long as those without resilience,
Remain in residence,
Doing no due diligence,
To see if the rise of drug dependence,
Coincides with a lack of resilience.
There still may be time,
If you have a dime,
To help resilience to climb,
Back out of the slime.
You're not a coward
having shown a great lack of intelligence
or common sense within arrogance towards another opinion
For that which matters deeply disturbed blocked out
hard hitting truth in evidence reads between the lines,
Micky mouse can clearly see the victim trapped
pushing false agendas that promote hate
Inside the visible truth we can see lost
closed doors behind the veil a bully in words
to speak correctly toned casting names of judgement
condemning wisdom hitting a brick wall
chained prisoner of deception
Killing every fact as if tortured behind the mask
attacking victims whom are silent ghosts
Violence towards another being is the code you live by
its easier to eat humble pie and admit defeat
there is no getting through and saving these souls
Brainwashed against the word of God
what can you say about that which matters
Jesus was at Bethany, in the house of Simon
When a woman with an alabaster flask in evidence
Would anoint Jesus with ointment as expensive as diamonds
Making the disciples incensed with the extravagance
Jesus’ disciples claimed this should have been sold
And given to the poor who deserved such a gift
But Jesus answered them with words to behold
Saying the ointment wasn’t intended for thrift
Jesus told his disciples this woman had anointed His head
For the burial that would be coming they knew not when
He told them that wherever the gospel was spread
This woman would be remembered for this once again
Jesus blessed this woman for her elaborate offering
As she spread the ointment like some would a love potion
Some may wonder if she discerned of His coming suffering
And gave Him her very best as a showing of her devotion
Read Matthew 26:6-13 for the full gospel story
October 11, 2019
Love Potion Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
She never ran out of excuses.
She was the queen of them.
She could throw out six
Before the rest of us could think of half of one.
She had the best ones I had ever heard.
I left all of my homework at my grandma’s house
after I did it
Someone stole my backpack at the mall,
and it was all done and the extra credit stuff too.
My backpack was involved in a high speed police chase.
They locked it up in evidence.
My backpack was left on a city bus.
It has not been found yet.
My backpack ran away with another backpack.
They are vacationing in the Bahamas.
Best excuses I ever heard.
Looking at the emotions I feel run deeper than the color of my skin I want to move forward in my life but I do not know where to begin.
I am thankful for all I have at this moment that I am in. Evidence all around me reminds me of all the things set up for me not to win at this game called life. My life that is. feeling lost in more areas than one where is the passion fulfillment where is the fun in the undesirable places life has led me too? I hear someone say society is an illusion so what is the real truth?
Frustration sinks in every crevice of my inner being so the inner me then becomes the enemy. I ask the question what is the source of this energy? I sit, I listen, I feel the negativity all around me externally, I felt drained, so I reached out to reliable sources both inside and outside to feel recharged.
The stump in my garden
By light of the moon,
Is upright and sturdy
Played like a bassoon
A possum's performing
"Song of the Pooka"
It is such a beautiful tune.
And that stump is a chimney,
It doubles as a hookah,
Delighting a baked raccoon.
Smoke rings in smoke rings
Encircle my thumb
While OOOMP go the bass notes,
Gah-wooo, Gah-wum.
"The Stump" is selected from Pets Given in Evidence of Old English Witchcraft and Other Bewitched Beings (Minneapolis: Sidecar Preservation Society, 2016).
Mary Haggis, little clown
With beak like blighted crows
And scary hair all lit aflame
Is where the woodbine grows.
"Mary Haggis" is reprinted here from
PETS GIVEN IN EVIDENCE OF OLD ENGLISH WITCHCRAFT
AND OTHER BEWITCHED BEINGS
(Minneapolis: Sidecar Preservation Society, 2016).
Don’t Go Near The Edge
Rumblings of battle
resound weakly
muffle
fear’s
labyrinthian lunacy .
“Don’t go near the edge!”
Rules change
shadow’s lie
truth waffles
doubt dances
“Facts not in evidence”
become reality’s
playmate
Coaxing
cajoling
enticing
whispering
“None have ever returned!”
unchanged
unfettered
Reason’s building blocks
overwhelmed
by the towering
edges
of thought.
©8/23/2017
submitted to – The edge of reason – Poetry Contest
The cumulous arrive in train;
with thrusting breath that reeks of rain,
a roiling moody, leaden pall,
to shroud the world in shadow-fall.
Thunder grumbles; muted flashes,
rain with sting and wind with lashes,
a blanket, nebulous, intends,
for blue to meet ignoble ends.
When all seems lost and Sol's retreated,
in evidence he's not defeated;
a shaft of sunlight tells the wary,
the veil's only temporary.
2-11-13
Nature didn't get the memo.
The weatherman said sunny and bright.
According to what I see now,
I suppose he got it half right.
The sun is no where in evidence,
conspicuous by it's absence, at best.
It's bright all right, that's for sure.
With a layer of white we've been blessed.
I really don't like the winter.
Cold weather just isn't for me.
But even I can admit it's pretty,
this blanket of white that I see.
Sometimes I wish you were more believing
Not so self-justified
Not so afraid of the flame
Where we both could be consumed
Sometimes I wish you were a little bit more mature
Not dribbling emotions so all over you
Not crying for more attention without mirrors to see
The blindness about you
Sometimes I wish you understood my silence
Not lacking in evidence
Not wanting in penitence
Just forgotten of that language that lesser beings invented
Sometimes if only you knew a man's love is eternal
But stronger than love is pride
But losing this the male ego must hide
The lost of its integrity to exist
Sometimes I see the wave upon the sand, gone forever
know I will never stand there again with you
Know I was the wall of rebound, words was all the feelings to you
The blindness carries us like a river.
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