Trial, revile, red reconcile!
Crocodile, vile smile!
Roundabout the rising rile?
Pules? Plop on the pile...
Young at heart, O wildebeest?
Ready to get fleeced?
O for gears as yet ungreased!
Not to say the least!
Ululating frenzied?
O banshee, sing thy song.
Xiphoid, clench! O pens, bleed!
Poison, be ye strong...
Long live the generations?
O nations, rise and fall.
Onward, my creations!
Relations? How they pall.
Sickly sweet in summer heat?
Heather-flower, vine.
If your beat is mossy peat?
Wicked is thy wine.
Kine of sun god, where you fell:
Awful was that spell!
Right next door to halfway hell!
Heaven, who to tell?
Knell, pell-mell! O fate, gel! Full!
Sing in all, brass bull!
Gathering crone, forest, thy wool!
How prophecies pull!
Yellow kings in cities old?
Shades of ancient gold.
Cone, caldera, getting cold?
Enter well the fold...
... is wearing his tall white top hat
Where his brains should be
Wearing his rainbow bow tie
Where his vocal cords should be
He fancies his dragon cane in his hand
No surprise his shirt is Hawaiian Kine
Made of silk with coconuts and palm trees
For design
He wore brown khaki pants with suspenders to hold them up
His socks were knee high green with tassels on top
But his shoes were the best, better than the rest
All shiny and pointy
And ready to dance ...
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the night
Dance, Little Bear
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the day
Never stop dancing
Dance away Dance a way Dance away
Dance all ways always all ways
Dancing without a care
As He chops away, chops away chops away time
He sizzles and grills fantastic meals from his mind
For he fancies himself a cook not a chef
Being chef just seems too sublime
Inspired by John 3:16 and Luke 11:2-4 from "Da Jesus Book, Hawaii Pidgen, New Testament"
God wen got so plenny an aloha fo da peopo inside da world wood hav dis prayer fo us:
“My chillin
Who hav aloha fo da Great Modda Earth,
treat Her as if She in My Heaven.
Sacred are da souls of evabody who are My creation.
Eat, dance an be merry!
Fo I provide all good kine stuff fo you.
Fo I give you food fo today an evaday.
Let go all da shame an all da bad kine stuff you do to yo brudda.
An Jalike let da odda guy go an no stay hulu at him
fo all da bad kine stuff he do.
No let any chance to do bad kine stuff
Fo Mine is da Kingdom, an da Power
An da Glory fo eva an eva . . .
Aloha!”
Christmas Bells Ring Out With Joy
Christmas bells ring out with joy,
Announce the birth of baby boy.
Star that shines so bright above
Leads the way to heavenly love.
Angels singing, pointing, calling
Shepherds on the hills a-trembling
Leave their sheep to stand and gaze
On this baby’s face so grave.
Kings with richest gifts all laden
Swiftly travel, all doubt forgotten
To a humble stable bare
To offer gold, incense, myrrh
And to adore the trinity
Of Mother, Father and sweet baby,
While sheep and goats and silent kine
Look upon the scene divine.
Hush now, hush, the baby’s waking,
No wind’s sighing, no leaf’s quaking
But on His face a smile is breaking –
In dulci jubilo!
Shepherds, Kings and you and me
Angels, oxen and Wise Men Three
Hear bells ring out the whole world over
To announce the birth of Christ our Saviour.
Hilary Minor
Guildford,
July 2011
9.00 am he was at kine's shrine,
9.00 pm luck began to shine,
10.00 pm everything just fine;
Over nothing again to pine...
"Of all gods The Handsomest: kine!
Gone he had to its shrine with wine
To change life that tasted like brine,
Soon begin to with icons dine,
And clinch Mr President's line!
Everyday to be there at Nine
And reproduce an agreed sign;
And say:"Hottest Hell is mine;
On the last day shen't fail to whine
My heart,liver and kidneys thine"
Our Truth, the only Truth
Was with Boaz and Ruth
He guided Noah just fine
To load the camels and kine.'
The ark door; God shut it's sooth
Remember that each day,
He garners; as it were hay.'
He trims the sun's light above
And wraps; our mortal being in Love.'
I
Who made the roach and porcupine?
Who made the giraffe and sloth?
Who made mosquito, bug, kine?
II
I might see uses in cattle and kine
Because I need to feed, wine and dine
Will they let me eat bear & porcupine?
III
Some creatures remind us, not about us
The universe feels itself, expresses
And experiences being great or minuscule
IV
If you meet maidens U like, "a beauty"
Don't discriminate if others are plain
Creator who made "mistakes" made me
I
I want to honor Jesus
in my life, my words
I fail - every day
I AM forgiven anyway
Honoring Him I change
Through Poetry
Of the Day (POTD)
Immanuel!
II
So many new and familiar faces
Of Poets and Poetry visited
My little mountain
Inspired by Brother Hamid
Who speaks of shedding
Blood (and Word?)
For humanity
III
This is a new day (via POTD):
So many sentiments shared
In Hope, in generosity
Thy comments - word by WORD -
Hearken to the Living Word:
Speak life not death
With words, thoughts
That deny the divine
In nature, kine, and human Kind.
(c)Deo 20211115
shalom, shalom, or Peace of Universe/Paz!
In our father's house, you were doing fine,
but you did not want to toe the line.
Father, you said, 'give me what is mine.'
Leaving home sent a jolt of joy up your spine.
No more scenes of servants grazing kine,
or picking grapes off the vine.
Feasting on choice cuts with the chine,
sporting with women, and drinking wine,
living in a ritzy ranch on the banks of the Rhine.
You have many friends who love to dine,
but you are too naive to know that is a bad sign.
Poof-poverty pounces and pierces like a tine,
now broke, homeless, hungry, you start to pine.
To earn money, you take a job feeding swine.
At nights you lie on the streetside and whine,
thinking of the servants and how well they dine.
It is okay, you ragamuffin to regret and repine.
Get up my brother and toward home your feet incline.
The sight of you will make our father’s face shine.
Cookie, fire-up yer chuck wagon 'cause th' round-up is begun!
Us cowpokes is gonna cull th' herd frum dawn to th' settin' sun!
We is gonna supply you wid th' cookin's fer our chuck tonight;
Heaps uv good ol' Rocky Mountain oysters broiled fer our delight!
It'll be a hot an' dusty trail as we drive 'em frum th' chaparral,
An' herd them cantankerous kine fer brandin' in th' ol' corral!
It'll take a heap uv sweat an' a lot uv cussin' to git 'em movin', alright,
But it'll be worth it, 'cause we is feedin' on Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Usin' our cuttin' hosses we'll rope an' wrestle th' bulls to th' ground.
There we'll brand an' neuter 'em as they beller an' kick around!
We'll be bruised an' kicked fer little pay but that'll be alright,
'Cause we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Us cowboys works hard wid little pay rollin' 'round in th' manure,
Convertin' bulls into steers; that's more'n them city fellers could endure!
But that's okay, 'cause at round-up time we gits a special treat;
Tonight we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters to eat!
kine eyes of the moon
lamb’s blanket of starlight
rich dreams til sunrise
9/30/2018
The American Revolution describes the process whereby one George was replaced by another
Though Jack has climbed his beanstalk,
Saint George his dragon slain,
Gulch-Mammon lives on happily
And myriad is his train
His belly is enormous,
Yet full it ne'er will be.
The moment luncheon's over,
It's time to start high-tea.
Gulch-Mammon's teeth are millstones
Whose grindings rarely cease.
His slightest indigestion
Is menace to our peace.
And every time he sneezes,
Things worsen, though they're bad,
And every time he belches,
The Richter Scale goes mad.
Perchance he bored with eating,
He starts to smoke and fume.
You'll always know his whereabouts.
Just watch out for his plume.
His home is just palatial,
For gold is everywhere.
His rest-room seat is golden,
A thing most choice and rare.
No one knows for certain,
The income that he draws.
Whatever you are making,
It's vastly more than yours.
There on his vast plantations,
Some kine are thin, some fat,
And many laws and statutes
Did little to change that.
Are Jack and George just sleeping,
Or are they in his pay?
Whoso may know the answer
Seems disinclined to say.
The Silence of the River
The silence of the river flowing like a stream
Masking fishes and crabs and other living things.
The silence of the river encumbered with whispers, prayers, cries and meditations
(Pause inhale and exhale)
The silence of the river flowing like a stream casting my rod and my care upon it along with all my hopes and dreams
It’s noon 1 o’clock and 2 o’clock all day has passed; A smell of a pine the sound of a squirrel or a mole in the grass an animal of its kine and the sound of a slithering snake.
The silence of the river embodies creation and regeneration all kinds of tragedy’s prevented
Upstream and downstream wash away my sorrow repairing life for me and a better tomorrow
The silence of the river flowing like a stream
A world in itself I have seen so many tales and stories only acknowledged by the keen
The length and the breadth of the river has its own account
Listen, can you hear? No because the river is silent, calm, free and clear.
By Felicia Elizabeth Dawn Jefferson –Weaver Jefferson
The Silence of the River
The silence of the river flowing like a stream
Masking fishes and crabs and other living things.
The silence of the river encumbered with whispers, prayers, cries and meditations
(Pause inhale and exhale)
The silence of a river flowing like a stream casting my rod and my care upon it along with all my hopes and dreams
It’s noon 1 o’clock and 2 o’clock all day has passed; A smell of a pine the sound of a squirrel or a mole in the grass an animal of its kine and the sound of a slithering snake.
The silence of a river embodies creation and regeneration all kinds of tragedy’s prevented
Upstream and downstream wash away my sorrow repairing life for me and a better tomorrow
The silence of a river flowing like a stream
A world in itself I have seen so many tales and stories only acknowledged by the keen
The length and the breadth of the river has its own account
Listen, can you hear no because the river is silent free and clear.
By Felicia Elizabeth Dawn Jefferson –Weaver Jefferson
A delicate, gentle, subtle line
Between love and anger mine
Is capable of making me bovine.
Though, we human, better than kine
Keep Anger without any deadline;
Swank like proud, angry feline
To clutch and hurt anyone divine.
Are we not better than equine
Of Swift? Or different by hairline
From Yahoos of Jonathan’s line?
Leave anger, be a Guideline.
Be happy and brightly shine
Over the mast or sea at nine.
Sea: big, vast – though – brine,
No use for us, can’t replace vine.
Hence leave anger and whine
Like a free butterfly divine.
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