Written: September 21, 2026, Week's Poetry Challenge: The Last Word
I walk through silence, flame.
I breathe through sorrow, flame.
I trudge through sludge, flame.
I rise through ruin, flame.
I woo the void, flame.
I stall the scourge, flame.
I stipple the sky, flame.
I indite my hymnody, flame.
I christen the dawn, flame.
I herald horizons, flame.
I nictate through night, flame.
I transmogrify fear, flame.
I outshine the shadows, flame.
I outpace the silence, flame.
I outfly the distance, flame.
I end in endless, flame.
A nobler theme needs more sublime art
In order to its honorable nuances impart;
And thus may famous muses of niftier writ
More tastefully craft this little lyrical script.
And if generous gods of superior rhyme there be,
Who with pure ease mellifluous tunes compose,
Then may such these tottering lines indite with me
And delve deep where rarest musical gems repose.
Where do love’s purest pearls lie
Beneath this bland ancient sky;
Where hug and kiss their warmest
Elusive touch pulsate at its best?
Truth is maimed and denied its form
And falsehood has become the norm;
Who knows any place she still thrives
Wholly unsevered by knavish knives?
And hope no longer blossoms
As it did in sweeter days of yore,
Now she’s worn out to the bottoms
And angst and doubt rule to the core.
And peace completely extinct is:
Chaos and strife now carry the day
And gallivant about in their hubris,
As mourning sufferers tearfully pray.
I implore,I implore the westerly gust
To take me or at least my pendowned ink
Many a time-my fingers are encrust
Traveled never so far, barely within a page's brink
In a chilling hour when the candle shines bright
And while the poor soul begins to sway
I snug a pen like a primed gallant knight-
To beguile my darling; possibly fanciful any-way
O I implore,I implore my fanciful maiden
You were,ever were to whom I indite
Gals of ink and bales of pages are laden
Untill the lantern bug took their earliest flight--
Though the countless letter I engraved
The means and will of it was never heard
Every is being trodden and depraved
In every swarty night mine visions are blurred and Interred
I was,never was the flower that sprung about
But the gloomy cloud of June;what I was merely a lout
Nearing departure* toward eternity, I now indite
my testament reverberating truths divinely aright
inspired by Apostle Paul whom the Scriptures cite
exemplifying the beatitudes I earnestly invite.
Once tortured by doubts tormenting me for escape flight
I have kept the faith through God’s compassionate might
against frustration-failure sight
for triumphant stewardship-height.
Downtrodden whenever carnality pursued selfish delight
my soul strove, never to retreat from battle for what is right
vanquishing fruitlessness’ blight
to build lives against evil’s fight.
Enveloped by unbelief midst skepticism bite
I trusted God’s grace and love that excite
overcoming slothfulness' mocking slight
with empowered service of prayer-plight.
Forgiven from confessed guilt-fright
my spirit ascends following heaven’s light
beholding forever --- devoid of night
now, my legacy I leave triumphantly tight.
*2Timothy 4:6 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
July 9, 2021
1st place, "A Brian Strand Rhyme" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 8/9/2021.
Coming back home on a repatriation flight
Overwhelmed by the shield and double masks blurring my sight
Making my way home to escape the blight
I could not wait to feel the warmth of my tropical sunlight
Never was I so happy as when we landed on the site
Glad to be home but on the plane we had to sit tight
Because quarantine forms had to be filled out right
And Covid-19 tests results had to be presented in black and white
Captain and hostesses were flexing their might
Keeping us in plane prison way into the night
Hating to wait I began to indite
Of how coming back home was such a huge plight
Making travel plans now no longer a delight
Everything now high-jacked in this pandemic fight
Methinks all antediluvian Love was
Whiter than snows atop higher tors;
And with more troth dudes did kiss
Purer maidens for pleasanter bliss.
I deem Art shortly after Noah’s Ark
To have been of better-spun spark;
And bards of far more sublime quill
Did indite with stouter metered skill.
Niftier lines which Columbus hymned,
On virgin voyages to terrains deemed
By soil-tilling mortals uninhabited yet;
Such ditties do dim both fear and fret.
Tighter Calvary Faith as Bunyans
Prisoners fell in Hades' vile plans,
Wet-toweling martyrs' spirits bold,
Felt saltier with truer saints of old.
Daintier Oratory and Polemics alike
Did with indeed finer Lincolns spike;
Notches less finessed minions today,
Such steadily sorrier contrasts betray.
Some ply the pen lissomely and light
Words like putty in their hands unite
Awkwardly do I on paper indite
Some wet scrawls that fail to ignite
Will I ever fulfill that dream?
A pen of panache, pizzazz and flash
With spring’s verdure and winter’s lash
Dancing on paper with every dash
Colorful as autumn, clear as sash
Has my soul with its hope agleam
Words pregnant and sublime
Running smoothly in rhyme
Free from the confines of time
Will I ever enjoy such prime?
And of the crop be of the cream?
Or will it end up all mundane
And turn out a prayer in vain
For so heavy a fall of rain
That may at once flood my terrain?
With such dreams I can’t cease to teem
B l i s s f u l
am I as teacher, social worker, church writer-editor, surrogate Mom
while rejoicing* to love God, conduct Bible studies, and indite poems
believing that faith, compassion, and humility please my Saviour
manifested through gratefulness, concern, as well as kindness
midst angst of frustrating Christ, grieving the Holy Spirit, and being fruitless…
thus; by the Almighty's grace, I pray, serve, and enjoy life all the more
in fulfilling my mission in this mortal abode temporarily as the Lord’s
b e l i e v e r.
*Psalm 35:9 And my soul shall be joyful in the LORD: it shall rejoice in his salvation.
March 28, 2020
5th place, "Bio Modified" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart; judged on 4/25/2020.
Indite- compose and to write
I oped my eye's
lights brighter than bright
blinding my oped eyes
inside butterflies are swarming,
Quietly I re verse six
thought of poetical Sonnets
as lovely as they came to be
for they became as loved
beautifully attempted for,
Its bed time o sweet butterflies
for now I oped my eye's
again once and lastly
cleared my throat as ,
I'm now ready to indite and the night will be mine
Had this weak pen those sly Phoenix's powers,
I wouldn't pester Time's much-envied eternities
With blank queries that deaf ages well eschew,
With any other of fate's multi-jigsawed parities.
I would some five hundred ugly monsters kiss,
And with each lip-touch life's bored cares miss.
I would with most fatally feared cannibals play,
And thus remiss spend longevity's primest day.
But that legendary fowl's exaggerated breath
I lack in luck's slow-fading inkwells and quills;
Her survival ruse against death's sinking ploys,
I feign no better than antique anecdoting skills.
Bereft of mystic health plus its fabled might,
I sing and act like one with a rationed height.
Why tire the chained serf's tongue and sinew,
To be outlived by tiniest wings that ever flew?
So let the hour-caged minion to Maidens Nine,
Indite his poesies while life still winks her sign.
Writing An Acrostic
Warm Warm spell imply spells written represent secrets on paper, tablet, and or stone.
Royal Royal favours recommend favours lead beacons wavered under cover.
International International interests institutions increase institutions indite ledgers’ cloned.
Traditional Traditions of scripts ignore scripts gazette top-secret matters splatters ink slops unrecognizable.
Identical Identical wordings follow word formulate DNA transcripts yet still top-secret.
National International institutions write institutions write encoded notes scramble up.
Greatest favours facilitate greatest flavors encourage transgress thoughts.
Writings on the wall or not?
...
.
08/19/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
I think I need a husband,
think of this a lot.
The babies coming soon,
am staring at the cot!
Have put on extra weight,
need some validation.
Feeling stressed and not the best,
from this anticipation.
Passed the morning sickness,
though now it is at night.
Makes sense to have a wordsmith,
for baby to indite.
Prefer to have a husband,
together we could show 'em,
we'd be versed for we have nursed...
a little baby-poem.
Think I need a husband,
a baby needs a Dad.
Am thinking babies name could be-
Junior-Writing Pad.
Nurturing my baby,
hope Daddy comes real soon.
Am dreaming of my husband,
his words will make me swoon.
Think I need a husband,
will some one get my drift?!
Would really like a husband...
Dare you to enlist!!
Seeing the Almighty Lord* with faith's vision
my illumined eye is awed along gratefulness' bliss...
Looking unto Jesus Christ midst the regal blue sky,
my spirit's pen is inspired to indite...
Rejuvenating my spirit against zaffre angst
God in His royal grandeur
of admiral sovereignty reveals to me
through my tiffany-covered ultra-chic Bible:
His precious love –
beyond sapphire’s worth and turquoise price
His cyan peace surpassing Pacific
or Arctic Ocean’s serenity
His cornflower grace reflected
by cerulean firmament above azure sky
His lapis lazuli light against midnight turmoil
pacifying cobalt trials’ crucible
His comfort cuddling me as a baby
within Aegean enclosure
His berry-filled blessings with peacock beauty
along aquamarine trust-prayer.
*Revelation 11:17 ...We give thee thanks, O Lord God Almighty, which art, and wast, and art to come.
July 13, 2018
1st place, "Poetically Me THIS PICTURE WHAT CHA' SEE" Poetry Contest Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.; judged on 7/16/2019.
Edited on November 2, 2021
Will you read me again?
Please read me again
And write me a reply
So I can write again...
Yes she wrote for the
Brother fattens like baobab
Fat yet she thins like biltong
At displeasure, He be wordly
Yes she wrote for the
Brother seized power but
Is it for the people by the people
Dermocratic only on manifesto.
Yes she wrote for the
Brother claim immunity when
Questioned . He is conflict with
His phrases I cant make sense out.
Yes she wrote a writ
That her indite to incite
Nitwits she engraved and post
Forth the pun in word. Dictionary.
Yes she wrote
As I proceed to indite in reluctancy
A vortex in my mind opens up to me
With my imagination running wild
Is it no wonder I feel beguiled
So much in there, oh what to choose
I have my sanity to lose
My feet in mud, my head held low
No thought neatly in a row
So many thoughts to contemplate on
When one enters, a dozen are gone
My love is vast and covers many things
Remaining open for new ones it brings
Give me one woman here to kiss:
my agony would turn to bliss
my cottonballs would turn to brain
give me that sweet, bitter, pain
Moving the tide and changing the subject
and take a moment on my life to reflect
if at all it is possible for one to create
a contented mind before it’s too late
A black dog joins me in the void
that's me, I'm mightily annoyed
give me a ladder to climb out
I'll treat you to a stout!
***
August 5, 2017
Copyright © White Wolf and Darren White
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