Long Candlelight Poems
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A Man of Strength and Courage
(A Man Of Beauty And Respect)
A True Story
Who was he? He called himself the
unknown Poet, my great great great
grandmother's uncle Joe. He lived
a long exciting life, loving one woman
in time of war.
A Martin Trapper he was, an artist of fine
design, a poet in his time, a fine gentle
soul of the universe capturing each
thought writing them down in journals
and poetry.
If you should ask him what he believed
in! he would say; “I believed in God, sounds
of nature, love of mankind, love of words
anything to do with nature is where my
heart roams best.”
He was true to his own beliefs, a man
of heart, determination, a man who
would walk a mile in another man's shoes.
He was the heartbeat of the land, a
true mountain man of the wilderness.
He wore leather, long hair, beard a loving heart
for all animals including the bear, he grew
closer to as he traveled the mountains
year after year doing his Martin trapping
for food. He was a God-fearing man
of courage and strength all his own.
He was truly remarkable, who
fought with George Armstrong Custer
and the men of the 7th Cavalry where
they met their fate and the Sioux on June
25, 1886, at the Battle of the Little Big
Horn'. Uncle Joe was sent to get
reinforcements at the age of fifteen
when he returned, they found them all
mascaraed. Including (George Armstrong
Custer).
Many of his journals, poetry and
sketches were burned in a trailer
fire, but to this day, still remember
at a young age trying to read his poetry
I do remember seeing some of his sketches
he had sketched with pencil by candlelight
in his cabin in the winter in the Canadian
Mountains.
One sketch I remember well was of
a lovely lady dressed in a long gown
with hair piled high upon her head
she looked lovely.
That winter was long and cold and Joe
never returned home from his trapping
the Royal Mounted Police found him dead
next to the creek by his cabin. He died
of starvation.
This is just part of his story my great great
great grandmother told me of her uncle Joe. I
wish she would have told me more about his life.
I want to pass this on to my family so they can keep
passing it down from generation to generation.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved). Publishing ? Man of strength and Courage®( All Rights Reserved.)
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
Once upon a time there lived,
A beautiful girl and a man she loved.
So true was such their love,
There wasn't anyone who disapproved.
It had been love at first sight,
A fairy tale since that day.
The maiden had found the man of her dreams,
No one else needed to have a say.
They had done it all,
Candlelight dinners, shyly holding hands,
Kissing in the rain, dancing around trees,
Leaving intertwined footprints on white sands.
But it wasn't just another love story,
It was uniquely special like every other one.
They had eyes for no other but one another,
The best part of their lives had just begun.
They traveled around the world,
And she kissed her man at the seven wonders each.
People would smile at the storybook couple,
As they counted stars standing on a beach.
With her, he was the man he wished to be,
The one who wouldn't think twice,
About pulling her up to dance in a crowded train,
He'd protect her, keep her happy at any price.
He'd see through her weak smile,
All the way to the tears inside,
He'd whisper sweet things in her ear,
Hold her till all the tears dried.
Though they did have a fair share of problems,
They always came together again,
No matter what happened,
Like raindrops on a window pane.
On a rainy day, she had sat waiting,
Wondering about the surprise he had promised,
But he never came,
For the winds of fate had suddenly changed.
Five years after that day, she found herself alone,
Sitting on the porch, counting stars on her own,
As she recalled the day he had been taken from her,
'An unfortunate accident' on the next the papers had shown.
She hadn't cried on the phone, she hadn't cried on the way,
She didn't even cry when she had to identify him,
Not a single tear or a heartrending sob.
She just stared ahead with an expression so grim.
It was only when she had received his belongings,
The remnants of his last minutes, did she react.
She screamt and cried, laughed and wailed,
For among others, was a diamond ring beautifully packed.
His surprise, the laughter in his voice,
The excitement, the secrecy of the evening.
He had been right, it had left her breathless,
But he wasn't there to see the sorrow it did bring.
Even now her eyes brimmed with tears,
As she looked at the ring as it sparkled,
And thought of that time when there lived,
A beautiful girl and a man she loved.
- Miliya Parveen
Poetry as well as writing are both gifts and labors of love.
Jesus Christ has freely bestowed upon me his gifts of
Writing and poetry. I am primarily an inspirational/
Christian poetic writer. It is plain to see poetic/
Creative writing are my passions. And one of my major
Reasons for existing on planet earth.
Using poetry/writing as part of a time capsule. In order
For any future unborn generations. May discover and
Perceive their very own literary legacy. By desiring to
Make an impact and a difference in the literary circles.
Shaping and molding younger writers, and my peers
To uncover their own goals, hopes, dreams and planes.
Writing for the both the enrichment and amusement.
Are working together. Simultaneously in prefect harmony
And Creativity. Working together hands in. "Hands across
The water and hands across the sky,"The Beatles.
Often used exclusively for spreading the good news.
And informative news of the life Saving gospel.
Courtesy of my beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ is my bright and shining candlestick. He
Is my brightly shining candle light. Illuminating the
Darkness in a sin stained world!
Turning on the Lamp of his lighthouse! Guiding ships
Into their Harbor of perfect security and safety. Entering
Their Home port of operation. And welcoming their
Loved ones safely back home once more again!
He is the Sanctuary of my life. He is my BFF, my very best
Friend. In the entire world I exist in! He is my guiding
Candlelight by morning, noon and night. When things
In my life go upside down. Jesus Christ sets things
Upside right!
He has bestowed his free gift upon other Christian
Poets and writer. Who know about writing and the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. Than will be revealed to me
In my entire earthly life.
Who far surpass me in Their very own ability and
Creativity. I do not compare myself To anybody else.
For I can Never measure to their professional quality
Standards!
But Christians, everywhere through out, the world.
Are spreading the good news of the gospel of
Jesus Christ! "Turn on the light house. Turn on
The lighthouse." Leaving it on morning, noon,
And night. Who love their beloved Jesus Christ!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 12, 2020
Love is like fragile wings.
romance an illusion of moonlight delusions.
I recall when summer skies hypnotised,
in the pleasure of your pleasing presence,
I used to gaze at the doves of love above,
admiring their delicate reflections in your eyes.
Revealing the tempress inside you,
our butterfly hearts used to flutter,
watching our shy shadows dance,
to the rhythm of brave waves of hope.
Tribulations of time led to a
decay within our garden,
as poisoned poetic petals,
drowned in a wild river of roses.
Now we are like a
destitute of wildflowers,
our souls resembling moths of shame.
There is a sadness in silence,
when there is confusion
in communication.
Tongues remain oppressed
in misunderstanding.
When candlelight caresses
no longer feel the same,
as misplaced moments begin to untame.
Songs of passion we sang for us,
escape as anthems of selfish games.
Should we muster dry conversations?
Neglect our flower garden in this storm?
Within wilting vines where
weeping willows hide,
it's a crime that the crying
crescent moon mirrors our stolen hours.
Specks of cosmic dusts
refuse to unravel silver spotted dreams,
when time becomes a nightmare
ticking beneath electric fields of scarlet.
I've lost and found you in
diversified seasons,
as winds of evanescence
curl empty promises into pearly shells.
Every poetic phrase you’ve
place in my borderline mind,
no longer hydrates this
glassy oyster heart -
will I forever remain confined
within restrained walls?
Perhaps this is just another
beginning of an ever-glowing end.
Painted in restless nights
from subtle strokes,
of forgotten devotion felt
like forbidden nostalgia,
beckoning monotonous forlorn
silhouettes to depart.
The last star shines and
bleeds broken hopes
in dwindling wraiths
upon love gliding
within trifling shadows.
For, sometimes feelings
wane like ephemeral phases
of moon-bows that seize
every lingering last light of life,
unveiling tides of change to
wriggle into thin fogs of grey.
Yet your clarity is forever
framed as timeless souvenirs,
designed as fine aesthetic
art colouring me with affection.
Forgive me, but I will
perpetually plant loyal seeds,
so our collaborations
continue to blossom in fresh fragrances.
Loverboy staring out the window, the stars gleaming so prettily
The meadow's bathing in silver light of the moon; it is such a perfect night
Loverboy sighs at the darkness, candlelight dimming as the wind blows
The night of love is here with me. I have found the one to call my own.
Dear dear what is your wish, I shall give you the moon or the stars or the sun
I have known you since before I knew, that such a feeling can fill my heart
Loverboy looks at the sky he clasps his hands and bows his head
The night of desire is here with me, I shall ask her to be my love
Sweet sweet boy runs through the tallest grass, past the willow where he fell in love
Loverboy jumps over the little brook, where he met his friend and now his passion
Past the pine forest, loverboy flies, by the trees his love adores
Into the village, he skids and trips into others with their halfs under the skies of love.
Loverboy soars above the sky, conjuring a future where she becomes his, and he becomes hers
He dares not think of negative thoughts, deluded and delirious he imagines and dreams
Sweet boy turns a corner and two, colliding and pushing through the others who make him hope
One more corner, one more turn soon he'll be in his lover's arms
At the corner of his eye he sees a beaut, robes and ribbons fluttering softly in the wind
No doubt in his mind as fresh vanilla hits his nose, that his sweetheart is out in the night of love
But as the loverboy is about to run to her, he sees a man's hand entwined with hers
The way she looks at him and he looks at her, is the embodiment of the night of love
The loverboy stares- his love in love with another man
Slowly he turns his head to face away, he cannot bear the pain
He bows his head, dares not to look at the sky that gave him hope and filled his heart.
Through the village, past the pine forest,over the brook, past the willow he fell in love, he swims through the grassy field back to the window
Loverboy looks at the sky one more time, the brilliant stars look hazy and unrefined
One drop, two drops the tears well in his eyes, wets his cheeks and pools under his chin
Was I too late in making my feelings known? To whom shall I give the stars and moon?
Sweet boy closes his window unable to look, at the night of love and of desire
Ife my love I dream that time
Should haunt or hesitate to be
A whisper exquisite till it requites
With love every rose upon the sea
Then memories wake each crimson blossom
Sometimes aspiring till when free
If my love on seas of time
We sail beyond the very brine
Of all that fate hath made to be
Then time on seas of fate should find
Tis true the moment questions less
When chained to words of renaissance
And beauty gives what is best
Redolent then when laid to rest
In chains and coffins so serene
That love is thralled in me
When fate has thralled the shadow pale
On seas of all I dream avails
A nosforatu dark in solemn sleep
Where sorrow withers and the eve
Of twilight comes indeed to all
Whom in the gloom of night
Find love as tragic as is life
Love as tragic as is life, to have
Should silhouette in the least
All the dreams that we see
Ife my love I dream that time
Twas but a tomb of grey regret
Then every shadow that I find
Should find that all I have is left
Within the tomb of grey regret
Within the tomb where we once met
And there in darkness deep as true
Find my soul still loving you
Sometimes my love a fate forlorn
Bereft of every gothic light
Should find for me and all the more
The anguish that the torment might
In ashen hearts and roses dust
And sunrises dawning till they rust
But ife I suffer in unbelief
No tragic waste or travesty
Should make belief then more to me
For love believes that time might sail
On seas as vast as soul may go
And sailing till assailed no more
On Seas of time and fate thus so
Every emotion I’ve spent on thee
Becomes as real as my belief
That time can languish in the gloom
Of every ghost of love untombed
Till fading in the raven ruin
Twilight comes to light the night
And find that even in the gothic grey
Of love and dimmest candlelight
There burns no heart upon the sea
The sea of all my true belief
Ife my love I dream that time
Should thus like fate unthralled confide
When all the torment of a life
A gothic as a phantoms tear
Could fall in love and still belief
While seas of fate do thrive indeed
When all the torment of a life
And every sorrow that is ripe
Awakes within the grave of love
And finds within the tomb of soul
Every rose upon the sea
The sea of time and fate in me
Dragon of the Night, O'Winged One Lost in Flight,
Shattered dreams and scattered leaves blown in sight,
Whispers of smoke and fiery stroke lofted on midnight
air,
Tales of wonder and loneliness cast upon a creature so
rare.
Cast in cave for a crime it did not commit or foresee,
Hunted by humans, elves, and other beasts from foreign
land to sea,
Driven by hounds frothing and foaming at the mouth,
Dragon of the Night looks for refuge in the Valley of
Bones South.
This creature with scales of rubies and diamonds
crawls for safe haven,
While knights on horseback ride after him for the crow
doth craven,
Mysteries of the deep beckon this beast of the night,
Persecuted for his past deeds and tales of wondrous
delight.
"Why me?" cries the tormented fiend in full fledgling
flight,
Why am I alone, why am I so afraid, why do you drive
me from sight?"
"All I ask for is some food, some water, and a place
to ply my weary head,"
"But now I'm pursued and plundered until the watery
deeps turn red!"
The Dragon of the Night doth encounters a dead end at
the Valley of Bones,
Ghostly ghouls and demons compete for the loudest of
moans,
Knights have all gathered to surround the beast to cut
off all that is safe,
The Final Battle begins with not strident call but a
low crying Wraith.
The Wraith offers comfort to the Dragon of the Night
in midst of danger,
"Come stay with me for I am definitely no cast upon
stranger,"
"Be comforted in the knowledge that the end will come
quick,"
"So that you may dwell in my lovely Garden of the Dead
no trick."
So as the Dragon of the Night rested with no care to
his dismay,
Unfolded his wings and rested his weary limbs on that
momentous day,
Spears and arrows may have once torn the cries from
his flamed throat,
Finally, the Dragon of the Night had found the
Peaceful Moat.
Dragon of the Night tho you died while surrounded by
the Enemy of Fright,
Your spirit will live in the hearts of children by
tender candlelight.
© Copyright 2006 starryknight1999@yahoo.com (UN:
wolfie1968 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
starryknight1999@yahoo.com has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to
display this work
Always Walk The Path of Light,
Christopher:)
Genealogy
—The beginning of a family tree—
For my great, great grandfather was a son of a slave,
he also was the slave,
and he grew up with a sad and appalling bedtime story
under the dim candlelight flickering in mother’s deep and painful sigh.
Since there was no book to turn over the leaves
no colorful pictures to see or fine letters to read.
The story was from the lips of dear mother,
who worn out from a long and hard day’s labor at fields,
and it was the most touching story he ever heard.
He, therefore, with his poor mother’s image
by his bed side though grievous,
carried this sad and heart-rending story
as an unforgettable boyhood day’s memory in his heart.
The story was, then, handed down generation to generation
and it was the story of Uncle Tom,1
one of most beautiful human beings,
agonizing under the heartless master’s lash,
gasping his last in the bosom of
a gentle-hearted young Mas’r from Kentucky
where the Tom-less Tom’s cabin on the sunny side hill still stands.
Nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they knew
to survive though not as human beings but as a simple living thing,
nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they have to bear in mind
in order to eke out an existence
though not as a dignified being but as an insignificant thing.
They struggled for their lives throughout their never-ending
tiring days, throughout their dark and restless nights.
Although my great, great, great grandfather’s father was
a proud warrior of a tribe
which dominated the wilds in the coast of the Black Continent
where the glow of a setting sun kisses yonder horizon to redden
the ripples, to call the stars and moon from the other side of sky
for the undisturbed and peaceful rest at night.
However, when the evil-spirited wicked ones
whose domain encompasses to and over the seven seas
invaded this peaceful land, though he was a courageous warrior,
whose strength was greater than the king of the beasts
he was trapped and lost his mighty strength.
Able to run faster than the cheetah in the wild
he was shackled and lost his swift legs.
The wings, which enabled him to soar higher
than the eagle were broken to pieces as he was captured.
1Cf: Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom’s Cabin
In Dreams, Her Spirit Sallied Forth: with Lin Lane
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
11-01- 2018
Thank you for writing with me yet again after such a long break my friend. Your invitation to do another collaboration was a great gift and a blessing given to me. I sincerely appreciate such great kindness as well as your great advice given on poetry/editing. As such shows great talent and true poetic heart. You magnificent verses makes this a truly golden poem.
God bless always..