Long At last Poems
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My heart wanders the lonely empty skies
floating, drifting through azure seas
Seeking, searching forever hunting
for its other half it is looking
Somewhere on this verdant planet
as rain flows down, each droplet
As it lands refreshes my soul
so I strive on seeking my goal
When one day, at last, we meet
we will sing together in duet
Such sweet music in total harmony
hearts beating knowing no boundary
Joined now for the rest of eternity
we come together in love so courtly
Two halves should never be asunder
so now and always our love we aver
for Skat's Any old poem will do contest written 03/24/2013
For when life's journey ends, I'll at last die;
and won't be sad (for I'll be old and glad)
because I gave my very best reply
to God by praising him though I went mad.
Now, I pray daily to be God's chos'n light.
In spirit, with Him, I make communion:
light candles, burn incense, to spark the night;
and call His presence to bless our union.
Pure, naked, unblemished, I know the Word.
In inspired scripture, I'm joined with His flesh;
with verse, I wield His powerfully sharp Sword,
to let the Waters of Life flow afresh
in measures and rhymes for this testament:
The one I love, the King of Kings, the Rose
(of this poem that inspires my sentiment)
of Sharon from Song of Songs, whom I chose!
Inspired by the many true crime documentaries I have watched
and in memory of Judy Malinowski, whose death set in motion
a law in Ohio called Judy’s Law, to increase punishment to those
who use accelerants leading to disfigurement in felonies.
He started out gas-lighting her -
the wicked man who loved no one
except himself. He thought he was
number one– that narcissistic sun.
He also isolated her.
To no one could she ever run
except to him – that self-important
filthy scum – a narcissistic sun.
Her sister said, “No more. No more”
and helped her see that she
was not to blame for anything.
From that brute she had to flee.
It wasn’t easy. There were kids,
but when he blackened both her eyes
and bloodied her, she knew at last
she had to cut with him all ties.
She got an order of protection,
yet she lived in constant fear.
He stalked her, and she couldn’t even
know whenever he was near.
She was his prey, his possession.
To see his ex-wife having fun
he could not tolerate because
he was a tyrant narcissistic sun.
One day he followed her to work.
She did not have a clue
when she stopped to fill her gas tank
of what he had planned to do.
Gasoline he doused her with.
What pain and terror she was forced to feel!
That narcissistic sun, so hot with rage,
ended up gas-lighting her for real.
A little butterfly came out of its cocoon
Looking at it, the whole world did swoon
Yet, the little butterfly was in unease
Why did the world stare at it, as if it had some disease
It sought to look at itself in a mirror, but could not
It sought to look at itself in a river water, but could not
At last, it met another butterfly, who would only look at it
And said, hey, to the world, you are a good treat
See you how you glisten, see you how you glitter
I am sure, the whole world has become your lover
The little butterfly thought its new friend was a liar
But, then, it listened to the wind and heard talking to it, the meadow flower
Do you not know, said the flower in all honesty
Do you not know, that a butterfly sees not its beauty!
When I was a child,
summer at my Aunt Joanne’s
meant staying out as late as it took the sun to set!
And mostly with my cousin Chris,
I threw a baseball back and forth
with exhilaration each time I felt
the impact of Chris having thrown the ball
right smack in the center of my glove.
Chris’ dad, my Uncle Clifford, loved his baseball!
One time I remember
being loaded with the other kids into his old car,
summer wind blowing through my hair,
as he drove us to a game in Davenport.
Uncle Clifford used to play on that same diamond
where he took us to watch that game.
I wasn’t all that keen on it.
But the atmosphere was so lively.
Vendors selling hot dogs, cracker jacks, and candy -
this was my childhood delight!
I am sure I must have cheered
for a team of which I knew absolutely nothing,
mimicking my elders there in the stadium
as wildly they called out their reactions to the game.
In school I played baseball myself,
standing like a statue in the outfield.
It was more exciting to watch my brother Dale from the stand,
those long hot summer afternoons as he played on his league.
It would be at least twenty years later
that I would sit and cheer for a baseball game again -
this time for my son in Little League.
Rooting for a loved one makes the game more alive for me!
Grimacing with every strike my son made;
standing up and going crazy when at last . . .
he knocked it out far into right field!
Glowing with pride that my son’s forte was as catcher
and watching him in all his gear behind home plate.
When I hear the old familiar song Take Me Out To the Ballgame,
it reminds me of the simple pleasures
of my youth,
a time when life was slower paced
and those summer days with my cousins.
America’s pastime, which has trained so many kids
to love being part of a team,
now seems to take a back seat to that rowdy sport called football.
But give ME a game I can follow,
a game that through time I came to love.
My Uncle Clifford has since passed away;
oh to spend one more day with him
at the old ball game.
Another day has flown by again
And then the night approaches fast.
Bringing to me sweet dreams of you
As I watch the moon and stars at last.
And then the night approaches fast
And here in my heart I always have you.
As I watch the moon and stars at last
I just wish that you were here with me.
And then the night approaches fast
Bringing to me sweet dreams of you.
As I watch the moon and stars at last
Your face is the only thing I see.
And then the night approaches fast
Bringing to me sweet dreams of you
As I watch the moon and stars at last.
Another day has flown by again.
There were six of them involved in the heist.
Only one told the truth.
She lost almost all of her “friends”.
They lived in a small town in the midwest.
She thought it would be okay to stand up.
Instead, she was ostracized and bullied by their relatives for years.
The only one with integrity to stand up and tell the truth.
She paid for it for the next sixty-two years.
Not garnering any relief until she reached heaven.
Angels surrounded her and gave her comfort at last.
They told her how beloved and cherished she was.
They told her how much they admired her.
It was more than enough.
I want to leave you tonight while the moon is brighter
I wouldn't want to walk away in darkness
I might not find my way home
In a place I have chosen for us
There will be no fireworks, only sadness
And the candle burning silently,crying to its end
I have found you among the stars
I will leave you there among them tonight
While the birds are sleeping, while the clouds are absent
I will keep the traces of your presence
In a place in my heart that I could no longer reach
You shall remain in that abyss untouched, but I'll know you're there
You will be there until forever unfolds itself
And a hand that can save me shall at last arrive
In its care I shall take the life to bring the ashes to a burning
I will take a piece of that smile with me
And that voice I shall carry until my ears go deaf
I shall see you in memory until I grow old to see my dreams clearly
But I'll know you're there, you will be there
If a gaze for just one more time can still take my breath away
I shall know that this departure is weak; I will dare not attempt
As you have come inside me in silence
Now I am leaving you in silence
With a love to hold, in restlessness.
Fourteen days...
Ted, what will become of you?
Two weeks back, you were lifted out and rushed
to intensive care, breathing but fitting,
unable to tell us how it felt to
be born with wires, tubes, winking lights and graphs,
monitors for music. No lullaby.
Intensive carers, what will become of Ted?
With your skill, experience, resources,
teamwork, measuring, scanning, recording,
what can you know? Assurance so fragile
to hear, to believe, to hope. Yet we trust
your watching, waiting, providing for Ted.
Eight pounds six gave you a start, Ted, but loss
of blood left your vitality distressed.
Three times you endured a lumbar puncture,
just to exclude the chance of infection,
Now at least you are given Mummy's milk.
Now at last Mum and Dad can cradle you.
Phil and Lorraine, who will Ted be for you?
With the waiting, not knowing, sensitive
to every sign, fearing, hoping with time
to pass at the cot side. Reading aloud
from The Fantastic Mister Fox for Ted
to hear the voice of Dad, and Mum holding.
Rex, big brother, who will Ted be for you?
Hard for you to understand the comings
and goings, greetings and goodbyes; broken
routines, conversations. For you and Ted
we hope and we pray, but how will it be
for you together? Your needs competing.
God, who will Ted become? For him the best
is what you desire. Make us strong that we,
that you can give to overcome the hurt,
and so make whole his infant brain. Uphold
with courage and patience Lorraine and Phil;
may their bond promise peace and life for Ted.
Upon my knee I come to thee
with my concern,to you,this plea
Chorus-I heard you speak,and so I wait
until my heart,with you relate
verse-so many times I ask and ask
inadequate to do this task
chorus-I know,I know,I hear your call
yet still hold back,frightened to fall
verse-at last I see and know within
strengthened by you,I can begin
chorus-A simple verse,from you above
to show to others Jesus love
after Robert Herrick TO GOD
Endwell me Lord,each day
be now my tongue,in all I say;
Endwell my all,from deep to deep
from dayspring,'til I sleep
after john keble's famous verse
Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.
Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.
This double quatrain was inspired by
Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'
Make me O Lord your witness each day
teach my tongue, quieten my heart
open mine ears, to all, to me,you say
guide my eyes,when I see in part;
and then help others ,through these lips
to be blessed,toe to fingertip
Quatrain after Edward Taylor the first American poet
Sad is the heart so full of care
Of tomorrow's what will,will be,
Upon his sleeve,all life does wear,
For all to see
Cast down,choking with eyes that blear
No words can comfort or make free,
Thought frozen in yesterday's fear,
That none can see.
After Alexander Pope