Long Accommodate Poems
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My niece Kayleigh
A beautiful selfless soul
Simply asked me how I was doing
When she herself was at her own
lowest point
So what exactly was her crime
Being to nice caring to much wondering
about others to much
And why on earth should she be the
1 who has to change so as to accommodate
others such as this
And even I sadly had to hold my hands
up
Because she asked me not the other way
around
So that makes her in reality so much
better than even I
And me asking her then after the fact
Just proves the initial point I think I
was trying to make in the 1st place
Actions speak louder than words
Some people speak and receive little
credit
Whereas some good folk do and yet
they don't
I now walk my pace
For it is surprisingly my master ace
I don’t rush myself to fatigue
I now reckon whatever is out of my league
I don’t slow down to accommodate
Lest I’m doomed to suffer obvious fate
But that my journey be for a reason
And that my arrival be in season
I cease to be anyone
I seek to be someone
A solitary kind for the purpose of God’s Will
Graced with particular favor and skill
If ever I tread a course not trodden before
I lean on God’s wisdom to open every door
Then I will not look and envy another man’s work
That I may work my work and make my mark
Of all men who became at birth
Few are remembered that walked the earth
For many are lured by the world
Upright men twisted, bent and curled
Forming the deplorable sight we see
Chocked and intimidated from what could be
And that is why I must be me
As I also implore thee to be thee
K. Muitherero.
Pain so debilitating
draining me of life
It is constant
with no respite
Saps my energy
such pain within
Pain depletes joy
from my face
Leaves strain and hurt
etched on my frown
As slowly and surely
pain grinds me down
Even when I try to sleep
pain keeps me awake
for hours on end
This enemy within
taking over my life
is dragging me down
Pain at every turn
Pain so aging
so exhausting too
Oh dear what can I do
Walking to accommodate
but posture is poor
Exacerbating problem
on walking through my door
Oh please I am begging
no pain anymore
Unwelcome guest
you ring my bell
you truly are
a visitor from hell
I will not let you in
I will lock up my door
Written on 10th January 2019
written after a very painful period so feeling rather fragile
Contest A STRAND (1072)
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Stacks of Aloneness
by Odin Roark
He wandered here among the longings
And the forgotten,
Not many remaining properly covered,
Their dust jackets of protection
Long gone.
Worn and torn,
The many leaned fatigued in their shoulder to shoulder exile,
With an occasional entombment in plastic wrap
Sweltering in the heat of its many paged passion.
He saw there was something for every kind of aloneness,
Requiring only to be read,
Not bought and placed on another shelf,
But made companion,
A redemptive power for continuing,
often singular journey of aloneness.
A sudden draft from the entrance door
Fluttered the pages of an ancient pyramid travel guide,
The open page 86 sent miniscule sand afloat,
Including its stowaway squashed flea,
Having once bitten the privates of the book’s looting bandit,
Now reduced to but another powdery remnant of history
He gazed upon the shaft of light spotlighting the settling dust.
Such never-ending stacks of tomes, he thought.
A mix of direct and implied philosophy of time,
Some read and pondered,
Others once he knew were but color-matched bindings for
A decorator’s intellectual pandering to
A 5th Avenue looky-loo,
Someone wanting the perfect life,
A delusion her inheritance
Could ever accommodate.
And then…
There was this one opus, ‘til now he knew not of.
Here, the fortune of lovers lying side by side
Beneath the weight of print and paper,
Shared a vial of death, now empty.
A desperate love wanting only to be read,
To be understood as prohibited emotion
Reduced to a finite repose in the darkness of closure,
Like the unopened book now about to have its long awaited embrace.
From his hand he placed the worn book down for ring up.
The clerk opened the cover to reveal its eye-pencil message:
“To my love. May you live long enough to finish this.”
Smiling to the obviously homeless man,
the clerk said, “Just a buck, including tax. Gotta love a bargain, eh?”
“Yes,” he said. “They say the bard knew aloneness needn’t be lonely.
Think he was right?”
She shrugged.
He handed her four quarters.
How many owls can I hold? I wondered as they appeared.
They were perched on each limb as the night rider neared.
I cannot handle this volume, the night rider said in a mean way.
But we promised them you would, I said. My mood was gray.
You should have asked first, the night rider said in a snippy voice.
He is the cousin of a neighbor of my sour great great Aunt Joyce.
I cannot accommodate them I told him. I was just waiting for you.
He threw up his hands and stomped off, his words turned the air blue.
“We can stay here,” the head owl told me in a sweet way.
You have always been welcoming to us each and every day.
The night rider left empty handed, and pouted a bit.
I thought it was humorous when he had his little fit.
You know a magnet exists not from its form, but from its effects.
Many things are like that, I suppose.
Last night, I had a few glasses of wine; normally, one will suffice.
But I fear there was a kind of fire burning within me that needed to be put out.
And my mind was crafting dreams a bit too fast; it needed to be slowed down.
Every word she says casts a shadow in a thousand directions,
and I yearn to see how each one falls, and what it means for us.
I've found a good way to check how far it's come:
You'll think of her at the beginning and the end of each day.
When you wake up, your plans will shape around her.
I-beams will bend to accommodate her every move.
When you struggle to fall asleep alone,
your mind will pine for that solitary company.
Your earthly success will be measured by whether you've made her smile.
It doesn't come too often; but you'll know it when it does.
Your alpha and omega will align just as she pleases.
The iron filing of your heart is helpless before her eyes.
And you hope she'll draw you closer, closer, ever closer,
until your souls are one.
21 July 2017
Written for "Obsession" contest, sponsored by the Silent One
**A Travel East**
We pass the Grand Mesa cruising like lightening at 95mph,
I feel like a passenger on a toy train.
A mountain 11,000 feet above the ground,
auburn colored, rock faced cliffs, complimented
by a spectacular baby blue sky.
Clouds scatter, trying unsuccessfully to cover
the rapid sunrise.
Blue,
Indian orange,
and red mix together well
with the beauty of the cliff face.
Along the base,
the Colorado river
races.
Not quite a rapid,
yet swift enough to scare rafters,
and small animals.
Miniature icebergs travel through a small channel
created in the ice of the once wide river.
A family of coyotes gather on a patch of solid ice.
The young playfully roam,
while the adults relax, lick themselves and watch.
Deer prance across the terrain,
chasing the train.
Detained,
inside a fence,
cattle graze in a group of one hundred or so.
A cottage rests along the perimeter
where children play.
Bundled from head to toe,
Snow,
thick and heavy.
Frosty is created!!
Homeward bound!!
The ride semi-pleasant,
better than the first.
The lavatory still with that distinctive
musky urine scent.
The passenger car seems bigger this time,
more spacious.
Room for my long legs,
and wide enough to accommodate my beer gut.
I hear the rantings of an old married couple
as they bicker about what time dinner should be reserved for.
Beside me,
laying awkwardly,
an old man snores.
Shallow breaths in between,
I can hear his heartbeat.
Pounding like
a heavy percussion solo,
his feet propped on his duffel bag below.
The lobby car when first entered
looked barren.
A few passengers sit with books and laptops,
others watch as the fast moving terrain passes
through the tinted double glass.
My cell phone lost battery life and I
needed the accommodation of electricity.
Occupied,
I wait for my turn.
From my peripheral I saw her,
I could sense her aura.
Smell her aroma of Vanilla Musk.
Dirty blond hair with red highlights,
short but not to short,
with a friendly disposition.
So,
I sparked a conversation,
that helped better this expedition.
Jared Pickett
3/7/08
Asavvy1
I live in a city of a Indian state
where you can discern refreshing greeneries, that accommodate
the kingfishers,Rollers,peacocks,snakes and white cranes
Although rice is the major crop,black lentils,sugar canes
corns,sunflowers and groundnuts are the seasonal crops
Since it is a rainfed area,the agriculture rely on rain drops
Pongal,the three days festival is celebrated in mid-January
for the year harvest,as a thank giving ceremony
The Brihadeeswara temple,inscribed on list of world heritage
along with airavateswara temple,surviving 1000 ages
have convoluted stone carvings and intricate sculptures
reveal our ancient cultures and they are our treasures
I am talking about the beautiful city
Even though it is a city,people's behavior
pretend you to feel like an unrivaled village
The people are more generous and obliging
No religious gap among us,Christians go to mosques
Hindus to churches,Muslims to temples,we are unique
People came from different regions and communities
Nayaks,sauarashtras,marathas savvy the value of unity
and we are living examples of unity in diversity
we follow all the traditions without ambiguity
Tamil is our official language,the name
of city reveals the unvarnished fame
Hell was created for Satan and his angels
It has been enlarged to accommodate all Jezebels
I dislike fact that the word hell has to exist
Awesome if could be removed, not just word but place desist
Magnificent if Satan never fell_obeyed
If he worshiped God and followers did not persuade
Now Satan temps man, leads him from God's love, directs
Him in wrong way, his subjects he tricks_ hell they never suspect
Hell enlarged to hold all who sin_ never repent
Heaven is a much better place, repent do an ascent
Sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
Contest: What "word" do you hate most???
This is called Poulter's Measure
Battery (for Hyundai Sonata) Needed Today
Frugality worn by fiat generated
by alternate fickle finger of fate,
the plus side being said vehicle
parked here in public Salem's lot,
where I live with said diabolical mate
at highland manor apartments
penury run me underground in potter's
grave adversity doth unfortunately accelerate
curse to finance repairs of titled automobile,
more'n six months ago plus of late,
where saving impossible mission more
difficult than resurrecting the dead
even an atheist (like me) could activate,
thus this poet blithely doth adumbrate
posthumous renown much more likely than
mine corporel flesh (a complex conglomerate
edifice), essentially if present automotive
woe continues, one beastie boy aggregate,
oven ironic steely dan sing nature
unstoppable trooper, respectable,
and likeable rubber re: soul apostate
ascending, bridging, and
crossing unscheduled airdate
not set, whirling wide arms akimbo
webbed spirit world whose
self worth did depreciate,
this future disembodied
essence death will alleviate
he can deliberately leverage,
imagine, and envisage, I do articulate
mean, kickstartering (ill) luck knowing
postage overdue, I anticipate
outstanding debts unpaid
monies ash should urn
at grave robber's rate
within an eternity and
credit debits to eliminate
delay getting transported
into another dimension
NO colorful bedecked Apartheid
of time space, nonetheless
perhaps choosing reincarnate
entity formerly matter
of Matthew Scott Harris
doth unconsciously assimilate
painlessly whatsapp pining
for xfinity (away off into
verizon) accommodate
ting with easy equipoise no
difficulty to assimilate
linkedin with alternate
universe, where "FAKE" prelate
will presidentially usher
trumpet, shutterfly, annunciate
one successful Earthly gadfly,
donning imprimatur to communicate
with bone a fide skull fullness!