Long As many(a) Poems

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Recruit Division

Recruit Division

I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.

So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.

Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.

Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?

Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.

Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.

I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.

There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.

Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.			       
					Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.
Form: Cinquain


Expose the Juxtaposed Part 2 Continued

Now that I have opened your eyes, you must admit I have no respect for your kind, call me... "Ruinized9sdivine , so sublime, I am, I live, I read endless chapters with endless cries. Open your mind, unbind and unblind the eyes. Or it may be you who comes turning dead. For we are not the ones who believe everything that is said. Now that I'm above you I can undo your disguise. It's you, not us who has lied, or led the weak in this reprise.
Trust me I'm not the evil seed, or directed by their described 'Satanic' deed,
Nor does wickedness run in my vein, I'm older now and have realigned like Dave Mustaine. I do not seek out to destroy or harm any and all. I've awaken, And have decided to learn the lesson before the fall. I'm the kind most kind and  compassionate. So I never take the guided light but that's irrelevant. 
The darkness is the illumination that guides me thru the dark. Admittedly I have been aware that I have  the brandish mark. My will is of my own, now that I'm away from my morbidly wrongful ways I'm no longer wasted. I accept my path and my mistakes I've  made, now that I've completely faced it. I believe that if you are true, to yourself and selfless grit. Then you're headed in the right direction. And karma is the only fate that's paid as a correction. The next life is a masterpiece of heightened awareness. That's when you'll see that I have composed this with a compatible contemptible fairness. What's acceptable,  religious lies, a sick compromise. An infallible system in heavenly skies. Not sure how much, in which to believe. Irrelevance spewing forward, empty as a dry heave. I ingest all myths, lore, and mankind's beliefs as well as many a theory. And confess that religion confines are  most dreaded, daunting and dreary. I think if you're true to your own lot and you do not seek out harmful ways of destruction. Then you will be above the hypocrisy and not left for its devouring consumption.
Form: Pastoral

The Restorative Power of Quality Sleep

Asper sweaty palms, 
and other physiological ills
nothing beats infusion of
spine tingling electrifying chills -
experiencing psychological nirvana,
(nope NOT even 
prescription medication pills)

except attaining, experiencing, and succumbing
delivering to bodily flesh, sans
nightly cathartic, intrinsic dream changing stills
and pacific inner calm gained,
thru shuteye, which tranquility
vis a vis REM hark able slumbers instills

necessary linkedin kickstarter instagram
godaddy transcendent reddit state, and fulfills
verity corroborated by perusing reliable
opinions painstakingly researched tracts
compiled by hands of 
expert sleep specialists quills.

No surprise to me reading
(easy to understand)
judiciously, meticulously, and
professionally researched studies,
which unswervingly demand
the absolute zero tolerance

to deny deep jeep grand
(Cherokee) surrender into the land
where lovely bones and flesh
at rest, the agreed stand
hard quota of about seven hours finds
Melatonin the naturally occurring hormone,

secreted by the pineal gland
augmenting figurative trip wire,
where entire corporeal being fanned
by naturally biochemical processes
as if...complex species
guided by invisible hand.

Today, upon arising 
without deafening vacuum
cleaner, yours truly did not feel gloom
me, nor rankle, an ordinarily mellow (Hume
more wrist) fellow, nee unlike
yesterday morning, where boom
ming ear splitting cacophony

gravely rented death stillness
unwittingly did exhume
even the grateful dead,
they did fuss and fume
(lumbering like 10,000 maniacs)
furious with rage 

unbridled as many a jilted groom
(imagine a billion infuriated room
Hun hating thwarted lovers) assume
ming stanced ready to throttle throat
of she that chose to clean house
no matter engendering global sonic boom.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Love Weighs Souls, Says Both Hearts and God Above

Love Weighs Souls, Says Both Hearts And God Above

They say that the human soul has no weight
They that have not felt heavy hand of fate
Shouting man is born but a fleshly shell
And there is no heaven, there is no Hell
The soul once broken sets a heavy load
As many a crushed heart has showed
We are more than what we see- skin and bones
More than our chatter on our telephones!
Soul in mourning bears the weight of the world
Crushed by weight of boulders Fate hurled
Within man rests that which cannot be seen
Infinite depths not shown on any screen
An invisible link- soul, heart and mind
A unique force- a most passionate kind
A seed sprouting in the soul to emerge
That which becomes a very human urge!

Look at life, the in-between set by Fate
Soul connection, that lovers can relate
Far more than a mere desire or a spell
A power thus born- oft nothing can quell
Yes, the invisible soul does have weight
Its great power is it can alter Fate
I should know that well, it did so with mine
Freed both hearts, gave us love on which to dine
Proof is in the pudding, or so they say
We both have sworn love until our dying day
As dawn's breath each golden beam brings anew
That dearest paradise found by we two
I thank God and willing soul when I pray
With the sincerest words a man can say
For that blessing of life and her sweet love
Love weighs souls, says our hearts and God above.

Robert J. Lindley, 12-18-2020
Rhyme, (  Of The Light Found And Proof In The Pudding )
Form: Rhyme

Midnite Rendevous

Thou moon child!

   Thou singeth love on the eve of circular whims, 

   and the whole world wide is thy disguise;

   the glint of wine in the stead of wild romance....


When making thy fermenting tides, she prancing 

   upon thy moonlit rocks....

   o'er waters dipping her toes in the cool of 

   evening glade; her lover awaits sipping her

   she-champagne, and smiles her every phase,


But they shall sleep till dawn, and morning 

   and all afternoon long; making new songs

   of Pan with odes sprinkling moon-dust 

   chants in the lap of timeless lands;


What wonder to have a gladness infinite,

   so dashing to walk with new moods

   holding hands royal as a chimerical night! ----


To take flight with silver(an) wings, with plumes

   darkling to full moons bright in stars

   of candlelight; how glazed the lovers terrace

   and their speckled gazes to each, eyes alive

   with none other composing their own little song ----


She could but ooze into his arms,

   and he swoon in her lunar tress,

   and taste the scent of her darling eyes....


..... teasing towards the wind(ow)-swept bedroom;

   the lamp of romance upon the silk sheets ----

   thou moon-child proud with starlit chimes!


..... The lovers elope as many a wild wave,

   and thy moon howls without despair,

   the lonely of life more distant with every caress,

   and he in her heaving bosom,

   doth forget all time,

   but the chime of bliss....
Form: Rhyme


Matters of Life and Death

MATTERS OF LIFE AND DEATH
Isn’t life short, today here tomorrow gone.
Switching the world off, turning eternity on.
How many before us, in the world have lived?
Just in a short while, to embrace their grief.
Many sort and earned great treasures
Many lived chasing around pleasures.
One moment masters of the world,
The next buried corpses in the ground.
Once celebrated figures of glory,
Now buried skeletons of history.
As many a poor men stagger upon wealth,
Just as many rich, succumb to poor health.
In the end we are all prisoners with no say.
We are all dogs waiting for our day.
Life is a dark winter seldom warmed by cups of tea.
And everyone is but a tiny fish lost at sea.
We may prosper here and conquer there,
But soon our strengths and efforts wear.
If you are lucky, it’s just you and a few friends,
By your bed side as your life ends.
Life is like a painful recurring bee sting,
Which you will pass down to your offspring.
you leave in them your blood and with them your name.
They believe their time is better, but its all the same.
They don’t see that the future is but a deck of cards
And you can only play the hand dealt in your hands.
Some are born to wear gold watches and to live in mansions.
Some are born to poverty and the consolation of sacred songs.
The rich man’s heaven Is drinking wine in hotels by the  beaches.
As the poor man in his hell, waits upon his resurrection to riches.

Premium Member Healing Band Aid of Love

Some wounds may run so deep
They never fully heal
Until you discuss how you feel 
To the one who wounded you
It may not be easy
But heal your wounds with a band aid of love.

It may not be easy to forgive
Especially if it stops you live
And takes away a part of you
Leaving us sad and blue
But sometimes we let things fester
Carrying around an uncomfortable stone
In our shoe
Sooner or later we need to let go
And realise the only person
The only person who is hurting you now is you/

Don't be top hard on yourself
Heal yourself by learning to forgive
As Jesus taught us
Heal yourself with a band aid of love.

This world of ours is full of misunderstanding
And too much hate and war
We forget what is important
Like family friends and being alive
And just what we are fighting for.

We have to realise we're all far from perfect
And as humans we all make mistakes
Sometimes we need to grow up
And face the truth
Life is often what you make
We may have have a choice
We are so lucky when so many have none
We need yo grasp the moment before the moment is gone.

Better to live with peace of mind than regret
And open your heart rather than shut the door
As many a fool may never forget
Only to be weighed down with guilt the wages of debt.

But as God in his wisdom taught us from up above 
Heal yourself with a band aid of love.


Peter Dome.copyright.2015.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Crown Him Our Christ

Crown Him, Our Christ!

When the saints march forward 
Win the spiritual warfare in their bid
To prevail against the bits 
Of don'ts
When heart- darkened sinners
Are saved,transformed
Are able to abide by the nook
Of the do's
We can with every confidence
Rock our regal swivel chairs
And say Christ has done it all!
Let's crown Him with many crowns!
When the balm of Gilead avails
To quench the crest of woes
The Eastwind blows
When the stream of Beulah flows
Into your deserted bosom
When Storms become stillborn 
In the ocean's womb
By the voice Divine uttered
By our Saviour.
When your foes
Bolt with their hoes
From your glorious
And blessed Eden
They feel acrid fire
Behold how bitter the pangs
Of hell throes!
When many a sinner's heart begin
To melt into cushion
As many a sermon penetrate
Therein hook, sinker and line.
When the aroma of a victor's ointment
We smell
Thus have we every reason to say,
Let's crown Him with many crowns!
When Satan's big head
Is finally crushed into powder
And he loses complete interest
In our Bridegroom's dower
When to the Heavens
We all rise at last
And soar through the pearly gates
With yonder brethren
In a ride of billion sevens
We shall all wonder
Shout and say,
Let's crown Him with many crowns!
By Ebenezer K N Baiden- Amissah

Premium Member U K is O K, try it for your holidays

Welcome to the British isles, where cash is flowing
Where much resides, history on every side of killer
Kings and queens provide, a tapestry of style and wiles
Villan's and villein and many wreckers; rode tides; attuned to
The chance to profit as much, was all their integrity as such
These brigands did thrive, just as long as the lord wardens
Purse, got more than a song? i e; reimbursed' collaterol does open doors
As many a knight, and damsel and burghers have sworn upon
Like those who rested at saltwood; just before they got to
Canterbury grand, on holy stones they stalked a man.' And
Slaughtered Thomas saint of God, then reported to henry
Of tudor blood, and so it was..Come and see the ancient
Walls, and briney sea, here normans landed and saxons
Fought.' Celts forged metal and Romans did route, and built
The roads, as arrows straight up and out' to Yorks
City gates, where vikings shouts once rang out' along the river Ouse, they husbanded cattle, and and fasioned shoes.' Here cash is welcome
In the modern day, here freedom is valued.' Despite the
Rage and run; of hostile agents, and past lockdowns glum, some despot
Would be's are in the wings, poisened of tounge with
Readied slings, yet never mind, come in freedoms name
Unleash some cash, and get some heritage in your veins.'

True Price of War

The mighty warlord shakes his fist and sends his troops to the abyss
Families broken and torn because of an oath that was sworn
Fathers and sons die in vain but no one can feel their pain
Mothers cry as their children are sent off to die
Innocent blood is shed, does no one care for these dead
Sadness grips the heart of man as many a persons blood stains the land
Cries from the public go unheard as the warlord shouts his mighty words
Kill them all he says, make these people pay
The screams of wounded go on through the night begging for the warlord to end the fight
No answer comes from his high up throne for his heart is cold as stone
Only a child dared to face him
He begged for his people 
His words so moved the warlord he again shook is fist this time calling his troops from
the abyss
Families are pieced back together after the mighty storm they have weathered
The child is proclaimed a hero
Sides that once wared against each other now call themselves brothers
Fields are resown and homes rebuilt, no longer does the warlord feel  guilt
But nothing can replace the loss of life for that is the true price of war
© Enik Fox  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

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