Long Begrudge Poems
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Nestled in verdant woods on a hilly terrain,
The sequestered chapel stood, tranquil was the place
With a calm drowning the hubbub around
With blooming plants adorning the encircling space
Gently moved to that well protected chapel
Tip toeing through the arch entrance
Entered and knelt down before the holy altar
The serenity there overpowering all my sufferance
Inside was nothing of grandeur to arrest the eyes,
Save a simple crucifix hung on the wall,
And a statue of Mary and Joseph at the side
With empty wooden benches lying in the hall
As I stood in humility with folded hands,
Nothing did I see, but a gentle whisper heard,
Suffusing me with feelings, delicate and beatific
And within me a strange sensation stirred
A riot of colors and gorgeous spires emerged,
And legions of angels gently falling in line
I saw winged seraphs with bugles in hands,
Singing hymns on end in lovely notes divine
How long did I bury my (self) in that blissful state?
Or was it a moment when time refused to budge?
Before me, I saw a slice of paradise unveiled,
A scene even a heretic would begrudge.
In the stillness, the song of birds from surrounding woods,
Sifted down through the murmur of wafting wind
Pleasant was the sensation that replenished the soul
Deep it was fanning all anxieties away from the mind
Sucked to the fill, the peace that exuded.
Lay afloat in the joy that welled.
It was a feel far too deep for words.
More appeasing than all the riches of this world,
Like a child cuddled in sweet embrace,
I felt sheltered from all storms and gale.
Trapping that celestial feel, and wrapped in grace,
Came out from that quiet place, calm and hale
Into a busy boisterous world, with a wise spiritual insight
To be a never dying wellspring with resurgent waters of love
For many to drink to their fill and appease their thirst
And become a symbol of peace like an olive bearing dove
Placed First
12- December, 2021
Beatitude Rhyming Poem- Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beata Augustin
Resubmitted for A Spiritual Wisdom Downloaded
Poetry Contest.
Sponsor - Unseeking Seeker
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams I
Wall, we're astonished that you haven't collapsed,
since you're holding up verses so prolapsed!
Ancient Roman graffiti, translation by Michael R. Burch
You begrudge men your virginity?
Why? To what purpose?
You will find no one to embrace you in the grave.
The joys of love are for the living.
But in Acheron, dear virgin,
we shall all lie dust and ashes.
—Asclepiades of Samos, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me live with joy today, since tomorrow is unforeseeable.
?Michael R Burch, after Palladas of Alexandria
Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night:
his owner’s faithful Maltese...
but will he still bark again, on sight?
?Michael R Burch, after Tymnes
Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks;
our cat bit off your unlucky head; my offended heart still balks!
I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly!
May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly...
so she shan’t get at you again!
?Michael R Burch, after Agathias
Hunter partridge,
we no longer hear your echoing cry
along the forest's dappled feeding ground
where, in times gone by,
you would decoy speckled kinsfolk to their doom,
luring them on,
for now you too have gone
down the dark path to Acheron.
?Michael R Burch, after Simmias
Wert thou, O Artemis,
overbusy with thy beast-slaying hounds
when the Beast embraced me?
?Michael R Burch, after Diodorus of Sardis
Dead as you are, though you lie as
still as cold stone, huntress Lycas,
my great Thessalonian hound,
the wild beasts still fear your white bones;
craggy Pelion remembers your valor,
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness
as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would leap and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron!
?Michael R Burch, after Simonides
Keywords/Tags: ancient, Greek, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, translations, elegy, elegies, eulogy, eulogies, death, grave, funeral, lament, mourning, loss, pain, bereavement
Greed: In all things merciful the want and thirst for more and more never
hesitating to build such lust for power devour those who stand in the way of
expensive ivy towers, enchanted by diamonds money is the perfect alliance to be
master of this world.
Vanity: To be above all else with pride firmly at top shelf conceited and gorgeous
to know your worth it time stands still in the presence of greatness the
undisputed the selfish to be catered to because simply put I'm better than you
through and through.
Slander: Disdain when you dirty such a good name so cold and malice to
discredit the very balance a scandal and shame with just a simple slip of the
tongue hysteria has begun, utter nonsense and lies an evil deed done well I'll
see you in hell.
Lying: Is it so wrong to intentionally sale falsehood such a good imposture does
it well to create strife and accuse the innocent with one deceiving statement a
counterfeit and proud of it, fallacious yet deliberate surprisingly with no regret.
Envy: For years I've watched you bath in success and glory with each advantage a
different story gain after gain time and time again as my resentment sets in. To
begrudge all that you have it should be me it's plain to see I'm in total anguish I
long to be in your shoes what It must feel to have it all oh but one day how the
mighty will fall.
Pining: My longing grows daily as my nostalgic desire reaches higher than any
mans worst fire, torment are the days that past with out you vulgar times like
these are indeed none to pleasing how I need your love to rise above yet I waste
away and wait for the moment I can be with you because I love you.
Hope: A satisfactory time it will be when all things awful are washed away so
change can stay in constant spirit to see the end of dismay the fulfillment of such
a day and time would blow the most hardened minds. Expectations are high you
can see it in every ones eyes confidence with in victory such good fortune for the
world to see.
I became familiar with intriguing chow in the army mess,
Tho' I savored their chipped beef and gravy I must confess!
But some of their culinary efforts left in my mind some doubt,
That my wily recruiter didn't know what he was talking about!
Invariably for lunch and supper much to my dismay,
They plopped a dollop of fruit cocktail upon my battered tray.
The sergeant grinned as he slopped some on my mashed pertaters.
Have you ever eaten fruit coctail mixed with stewed termaters!
The army must've had a surplus of orange marmalade,
And the meatballs would've made a formidable hand grenade!
One never asked about the ingredients in the vegetable stew.
On rare occasions steak was served, but it was tough to chew!
Troopers sat around a picnic table affair and elbows really flew!
Such atrocious language! At Mother's table that would never do!
Signs read, "Take all you want but eat what you took!"
Food dumped in the garbage can could easily upset the cook!
For Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners they put on a spread.
Those I savored but anticipated future meals with dread!
But in todays army "dining rooms", silver and chinaware prevails.
Why! I've heard they serve cordon bleu and even lobster tails!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This poem pretty accurately describes "mess hall" conditions when
I first entered the Air Force in 1948. As years progressed, things
really improved for the better. They are called "dining facilities" today
and to dine in one is a special treat which I have done several times
since my retirement from the Air Force. It is true "dining" and lobster
tail, cordon bleu, steamboat round and such delicacies are de rigueur! If those foods are
not your thing, there is a soup and salad bar, pasta bar, ice cream bar, hamburger bar
and on and on. The decor compares to any fine restaurant. But I don't
begrudge our men and women in uniform one bit - they deserve the best!!
I fell back into mediocrity, or rather
it fell back into me.
I longed for colossal waves to crash through me,
Inflate my veins,
Saturate my heart,
Those waves so gigantic that when they approach you aren’t sure
whether you dive or drown,
A little part of you wishes the latter,
Until that tiny frightened laughter escapes your lips,
And you think,
Here is where I feel most alive.
But I have a little box
One that I return to.
It always feels so familiar,
Though not at all like home.
Outside that little box I found you. I held you in my arms and whispered, “You are always safe”,
No matter what happened to you before,
Or how it tainted the decisions you have made,
You’re still my little child who keeps me awake in the night.
Inside that little box I lost you. I wept for days, weeks, months.
I cradled your ghost and sobbed, “Where did my child go?”,
You were weeping also but so silent the birds could not hear,
And I was still aimlessly searching aisles.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Little box, why do I let you keep me contained?
The pillows aren’t as plumped,
The softness numbs my soul,
Your tightness, it suffocates me,
And your closeness, it makes no room for others.
I’ve spent too much of my life alone.
Let me tell you little box, or rather don’t.
I’ll tell you all the same.
Listen up, get comfortable, let your lid down, we could be here for days.
No longer will I sit within your jagged walls,
Those that pierce me with internal claws,
No longer will I take slumber in your shadow,
Or nestle in your deathly silent throws,
There’s a child that I am looking for,
And you hold no windows.
I do not begrudge your caging pain,
And I now dance within the light,
Never do I long for the end of your rain,
I now tie ribbons with birds in flight,
There’s a child that has been waiting for me,
And you hold no light.
Little box is crushed, torn into tiny fragments and thrown into the recycling.
3.28 parsec out
We’re making an impromptu flight change
Windstar is gonna have to make
a low-grav burn and turn
towards the Big Rocky asteroid belt border
It’s a risky nav maneuver for sure,
but every space outlaw has faced that situation before
We got pesky corporate police on our tail,
time to power down, run silent on dual trilitium cells
Pai-du Jerah
I’m the drawn short-straw captain of this motley crew,
they respect me with a razor edge
I’ve sacrificed my life a time or two for them,
I get the necessary begrudge ... but no flak,
when I tell them what we gotta do
My number one right hand is a woman
I wouldn’t look too hard at her, pal,
if you know what’s best for your health
Vydrikia, she’s a long purple-haired, gen-eng vixen,
with tripwire anger issues
She smiles dismissively at me,
as she unstraps her NB (nuke blast) pulse gun
Says the next time I mess with her,
she just might not have it set on stun
I know the crew is prickly raw, that they want a little r & r ...
but we’ve got an interstellar new gov hush-hush delivery to make
And this nasty job, we gotta see it through —
if we wanna get paid that five zil Galaxian credit
Don’t wanna hear none of that mission impossible talk
Our motto is:
Evade or pear starjuice cajole
Be prepared for any planetary orbital patrol
We’re space outlaws
When we drop out of hyperspace —
whatever you do,
vigilante solar citizens ...
don’t get in our way!
That’s one reward that ain’t worth dying for
We wear both hats;
sometimes we’re the good guys,
sometimes we’re on the other side
It depends on what the pay is,
depends on what the fight is too
Some say we ain’t nothing but paid mercs
When swiping the untraceable credit disk,
we love giving the mean smirks
We can be your best friend,
we can be your worst enemy
But oft times, we’re in the middle somewhere
Space outlaws don’t much care
Don’t mind your habits, but they’ve made your mind.
Round the next corner, things will get better.
Until that one fell day when you do find
The credit’s come due and you’re the debtor.
You’ve hidden yourself away out of fear
With sea-green moat, tower, thick sandy walls.
Predators finally could not come near
But no one else can come knocking at all.
Pick yourself apart thoroughly, the pain
Is less than if they figure it out first
Sisyphean task for your fevered brain
A foul practice, but better than what’s worse.
The lonely stone walls, old bones in the keep,
Dragons in the moat, free from invasion.
A lofty view of the bustling street
Looking out from the high crenellations.
At dark shadows you jump, the things you fear
All may have once contributed to it.
But all these things become irrelevant
When you find out that the fuse has been lit.
What smoldered for ages has now caught flame
Under countless, caked layers of plaster
No longer doubtful luxury of blame
To avoid an explosive disaster.
From numbness has hardened the deepest ache.
Seems the one in the keep is missing, too.
Unaware, the demon your soul did take.
The cold, eroding bones are inside you.
Ash grey fuse angrily throws orange sparks,
The why of it no longer relevant
The pain no longer to slumber in dark.
Pinch it, douse it, the fuse will not relent.
Deeply, you know this can’t go forever.
It will put an end to you, and quite soon.
Search your mind, desperate for the lever,
Disarm the bomb or get blown to the moon.
Loved ones wouldn’t begrudge your departure
If they could feel the burgeoning horror.
Or so you think, blinded by the torture
What they see, somehow not in the mirror.
Bet your quickly ticking life it’s too much
When you are the bomb, so hard to diffuse
Leave the Keep's safety, risk the human touch
This lonely fight you do not have to lose.
3/20/16
Everyone says no
It is not to be so
Down that road you are not to go
For it will only be paved with pain and woe
Everyone seeming to know what's best
Rantings and ravings leaving no time for rest
Patience and respect being put to the test
Indifference and lack of trust lead to a life with no zest
A life once ruled by arrogance and pride
In him is now hope and does the saviour abide
A rumor falsely started can make you want to hide
And lead you to think twice about in whom you can confide
No life is not writtled with regrets from the past
And yet the first stone people are all to willing to cast
A sinless life can no human make last
Like a ship in a storm with a broken mast
If Jesus is Lord and in your heart does he live
Why do people find it so hard to forgive
For the Son of God came to earth and did live
And for ALL of mankind his life he was willing to give
If to him you have given all of your heart
And your old life you are willing to depart
He will lift you up and set you apart
And give unto you a new start
I wrote this for a friend of mine that i grew up with. He moved away for a few years, and
lived a rather trouble filled life in that time. Recently, he has come back and has asked Jesus
to be his Saviour and Lord of his life. He is a changed man, however people still refuse to see
him for the man he is now rather than the person he was before. I understand that sin not
only leaves you with scares but also on those around you, and sometimes it is hard to
forgive and forget; However, that is what we as christians should do. We are to not hold
somebodys past above their head and begrudge a person the forgiveness that they so
desperately wish for. We need to leave judgement in the hands of the True Judge.
To wake each morning and begrudge
the daylight intruding into that life..again.
To feel desolate that once more no prayers were answered,
despite frantic, blind pleadings for an unending sleep.
To know that again, the charade continues,with firstly the
unwelcome reflection in a mirror of life.
A mirror that mimics a steadfast smile that all the world sees.
A mind so fogged by perceived imperfections that it warrants
no respect, no countenance.
A life unblessed by the joy and love a family can bring.
Stagnation touching everything... .a fetid life with no escape or respite
Constant, black webbing,tangles every worthwhile thought enmeshing it so completely, it surrenders without a whimper.
Pushing aside the voice playing constant within....with just one single word...why?
Why is there a blackness nothing can alieviate?
This vacuity of emotion that notwithstanding seems to cover the very ground being trod upon.
Each step compressing it further into the earth,to live within the dank,coldness of lost souls,
No remedy for this..
No possible return to ‘normal’
Life is a pastime, now outgrown,and the desire is solely for the game to end.
Frantic scouring to find a method, sure,clean,quick.
Heaven is a long way from any thoughts , only the eternal fire plays centre stage...
But maybe that is better than the numbing emptyness of this life...
Pontius Pilot supplications,
seeking a solution absolving blame from my hands to rendering me non culpable,
yet still with the aim of oblivion magnificently achieved.
This my desired fait accompli.
The day has just begun,
maybe the prayers will be answered tonight ,
Maybe....
but if not
then purgatory continues
and is relentlessly eternal..
When I think about my eyes…I am filled with adulation for like many of my body parts…they’re a marvel of creation.
Allowing me with just a turn of my head to see the world around me.
Opening my heart and mind to the beauty that surrounds me.
But when I look at you, however, I find there is a limit to what my eyes can see.
The same limitations, I imagine, your eyes have…when you look at me.
At the moment you and I meet…the instant we begin…I can see if you’re old or young, tall or short…I can see the color of our skin.
These things my eyes can see from up close or even from afar…but what my eyes are unable to see…is what makes you who you are.
What I see is the exterior, a semblance…a facade…I cannot see what religion you are…I can’t see if you even believe in God.
I can’t see what your parents were like, where you grew up, if you have enough food to eat.
I can’t see if you’re married, raising children by yourself, scraping by to make ends meet.
I cannot see the sexual preferences you were born with, if your brain work fast…or slow…I cannot see the experiences you’ve had in life or the gender you might be struggling to know.
My eyes can only see so much…because the last time that I checked…who you are is where all the things I can’t see intersect.
I wish there was a way to see how all these different part of you align…to view with a bit of clarity the way they intertwine.
If I did perhaps I’d be more accepting…perhaps I wouldn’t begrudge…perhaps if my eyes could see a little more…a little clearer…I’d be less likely to misjudge.
Perhaps this simple wish will, one day, come to be…until then I’ll try to remember there is so much more to you than what my eyes first see.