Long Conclude Poems
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SINS OF THE FATHER
Just a maid,just sixteen,a serving girl ,
a go-between upstairs and downstairs,
her scene 'til love was to intervene;
She,so young,he,the master' son
a web of attraction, begun one rainy
afternon,in June;A familiar tale,oft told
of one so shy,the other bold,an affair
one hot summer long, where despair does
conclude my song;A baby came the
next Spring but he sans a wedding ring
left for the Great War ,the wench,
the babyboth shown the door;In action,
the teenage swain died, the lass,with
bairn,cried and cried ,their kin,his family
with conscience money salved their pride;
NEVER TO RETURN
He went to be a soldier one cold and
wintry Spring,dying for a noble cause
that all then believed in;The lilac was just
budding when news of him was sent,
her last letter returned marked ' killed in action'
described ,the honeymoon they’d spent;
feeling the kicking baby within , Gran wept
and cried ,that April day,dear Granpa died.
NAN
So sad,full of care
the face of nan,
life,lines her beauty
so fair-
this girl full of care,
this face of love
'cross memory's chasm
I now stare;
And sadness hide-
For youthfulness
we cannot share
apart by kin's time-line divide
THE LEGACY
In circumstances unknown
she left this world alone;
‘neath the fast flowing Ouse-
we judge not nor accuse!
This lovely wife of thirty-one
whose beauty does transfix and stun;
dying in circumstance unknown-
leaving husband,daughter bereft,alone!
Heartbroken,distraught he searched
in weather, bitter and cold;
‘til a final illness took hold--
family tragedy again made,manifold!
Orphan Lily wept alone,just five
with now no family home;The Great
War just begun-her tiny world,undone!
Circumstances unclear,unknown, Frances
left this world alone;her legacy though lingers
long,in looks,of grand daughters of my song
You may care to listen to me reciting these poems on youtube under the name ichthyschiro
After countless hours of thought,
of looking at myself
through a microscope.
Dissecting the issues and problems
I see in myself.
I conclude that I am not more
than a corrupted man.
My mind wanders,
filled with despair and darkness.
My heart voided,
the passion I had removed.
I am not good for anyone,
I am not worthy to be in
the public's presence.
It would be better to ignore me
than to give me attention.
Maybe then I will see that it is me
that has the problems.
Issues I can only see,
after the fact of embarrassing myself.
Affecting everyone around me,
like a virus.
The room becomes grey,
a little more pessimism,
darker still.
Maybe I could blame how I was
treated for countless years.
Maybe I could find some reason for
the way I am now.
But here I am,
after everything
is said and done.
My outcome is everything I wish
it wasn't.
I do not want to be who I once was,
I do not wish to corrupt anyone else,
or to allow myself to affect those
I hold dear.
I must contain this plague that
is within my heart.
In the hot, dry summer, there is little doubt
that there often can be severe periods of drought.
All across the dusty terrain
the earth seems to cry out for rain.
People exclaim with disbelief
about the high heat and pray for relief.
When the rain does come and falls upon the ground,
one can hear, feel, taste and see it all around;
and there's something else, something olfactory
that is not noticed as much but quite satisfactory.
A fragrance that is earthy, pleasant and sweet,
a sensory bonus borne of summer heat.
So, here is a word that you may not have known before:
the scent from rain on dry ground is called "petrichor".
And so to conclude and have everything summed,
you can all go to bed tonight, a little less stunned!
Love is sacred and sublime
owned by the angels once,
But as descended to us men
It lost its grace as hatred born.
Man born with a greed to own,
Nothing he has,than a scar on
That's the death mark of Cain.
The smell of the blood of his kin.
Born to a world of his destiny
Man seeks his own identity ,
With a pride he owns the world
Roses he enjoys in it's shade
But discard when they fade.
He used and threw his every gift
Virtues too once he dipped in lust
A lesson he would never learn
though revealed,time and again.
Whims stronger beyond his reins,
By default bowing to weakness
when soul confronts cry like a loser
But wants his pleasures closer.
Virtues are for future bargains,
God just a convenient reference,
Man is confused in substance
Never knowing his own life
owned or a gift, he less conclude
Or a sacred sin of the Creator.
The Iris - the spectrum in my glistening eyes
Beauty be that of rainbow hues on my face
Pigments painting mental images in my brain
Bewitching in art- coloring this my world
Enchanting creating the beauteous hues , I trace
I conclude - the beaming shades of awe
What a beauteous phenomenon perplexed wondering why?
The wonder amazed in the pupil of my eye
Visions - seeing the glamorous trees
I paint the birch flows with the black and white beauty
Thus I also see shades and the bark so prominent
Luscious the white - the ivory embedded in my mind
And the branches of the willow also flowing with the wind
With the breeze on my face - and the autumn leaves we find
Ah - gardens - flowers prominent too of hue
Bouquets of roses reflecting on you
I see the mountains - I see the waters
Still tracing the reflections in my id - my mind
Mentally I see blossoms - I see a solid rock
Of which to stand - God bless our land
May we walk paths feeding our eyes with colors
Predominant - Imagery now , I see the light
Painting the pictures in the beauty of daylight
In my world thus I appreciate and this I love
With the sunrise too in my eyes , from skies above
I am walking in life with God side by side
Instilling thoughts in my mind inside and outside
And may the world be always glistening
With thoughts in mind that God is always listening!
An email written to eldest daughter
December 28th, 2019,
which unwittingly, magically, accidentally...
resurfaced while scrolling
thru outdated emails
and OpenOffice documents of mine
thee evening of February 20th, 2022.
The remaining lines
comprising reasonable poetic rhyme
sent to said offspring
more than two plus years ago
and dada feels grief no more, cuz time
heals all wounds.
Papa unexpectedly overtaken with woe
flashback shook me complex edifice
head, shoulder, knees in to toe
quietly processing silent film status quo
shant upended jollity
between when a little girl no
matter mine nonconformist
mien unconditionally accepted,
ye dear daughter(s) don't know
sudden onset of anguish ho... ho... ho
holiday cavorting accentuated as
charade, facade, masquerade fueling ego
particularly Santa with the Misses,
and her sharp faux claws
keeping warm while
temperature five below.
No matter most every detail
I accurately gauge to attest
your life bustling
chock full o' zest
withheld, no doubt emotions
smolder within your chest
and kudos to thee lovely offspring
(both) packed bags
and headed out west
twas honorable duty, though now...
papa feels like
an unwanted guest
thee survived, albeit psyche bruised,
undergoing the electric
kool aid acid test
laughter when playing
Mancala, Uno, Sorry, et cetera,
how dada predictably did jest
when table turned,
I (spoiler Craigslist curb alert)
willingly, lovingly, and blithely
lost desire to win quest
to dispose cards, game
pieces, and/or glass beads
invariably other occasions
ye long since left (as thee must)
me and mother with an empty nest.
Nothing more doth
Matthew Scott ask or desire
then to delight and bask
as well educated hire
swimmingly how thee
learned to acquire
confidence and multitasking,
while I trod thru much
psychological muck mire
oft times (like now)
experiencing financial straits dire,
linkedin to when only youngster fire
within me belly to joie de vivre
peter out and prematurely expire
and yours truly reckons nothing
can change the past aghast being
deprived a marshmallow
at long ago time sharing campfire
with shortcomings scalding,
killing, crimping relationship,
courtesy lack of income
rendered paternal bond disastrously dire
doth now conclude another poetic wire.
Not an Orchestra
Uplifted Spiritual voices
Praying for the Souls of the world
Making a difference through prayer
Looking for a change
The Bow and kneel
Knowing the goodness that Heaven will bring out
Praise with a shout
Unless one prays, one doesn’t know the struggle and how it will come out
The defense in preparation
praying being the suggestion
It’s about overcoming like indigestion
A reason with a purpose
Praying
A blessing to surface
Pray on
Continuous
Morning, Noon and Night
Revelation reminder
Praying with the eye on the Lord
Now with no cease
Praying in multitudes
Never conclude
Praying being the soothe
Prayer Band wonder
All to the Almighty yonder
The prayer, The Spirit, The belief, No doubt, Faith
Prayer Band Believing
Spirit, enter in
Some focus on hair, on legs, on muscles or on lips
on feet, on shoulders, on arms or on hips
Yet though you may think it a bit odd or dumb
my sole focus here will be on the thumb
Is the thumb worthy of a rigorous dissection like this?
I'll let you be the judge of that in the final analysis...
The thumb, of course, is what makes us primates
same as black and white stripes make men inmates
Speaking of distinction, the thumb's what babies suck
and just you try from a babe's mouth that thumb to pluck!
When gardening it sure pays to have a thumb that is green
while a handyman who's all thumbs is regularly demeaned
Then there are 'rules of thumb' based on real-life experience
casting out hypotheses, guesses, and other such interference
Remember 'Tom thumb,' the tiny man once swallowed by a cow?
King Arthur's favorite, he even tangled with giants - O, wow!
Such a graceful dancer was Hans Christian Anderson's 'Thumbelina'
He could just as well have made her into a prima ballerina
I mustn't leave out Little Jackie Horner who famously
stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum!
And for those of you who like music some
Imagine a guitar strummed without a thumb
So, in closing, to conclude, to summarize, in summary, in sum
Just when was the last time your thumb went numb?!
I don't know any happy
super rich people -- a
friend of wealth once
told me: "See all this,
a huge property and
home, dripping gold
gilt, "I have nothing...."
I thought, myself spared
leaving, as I gave my vehicle
the usual primer finessing of
the gas pedal, before it would
prayerfully start --
Of course, having spent much
of my life with those suffering, I
have dried many an impoverished
tear, and know no joyful hungered
belly --
I often conclude, the best of my
blessings found somewhere between
two hells -- bellow the peak of
Supreme Religious Zealots, just above
The Valley of Heretics -- best years
recalled, are middle-age....
God's grace and love independent
of experience or knowledge --
Having abundance is opportunity
to better the lives of less fortunate
others....
who can tell a person is wrong or right?
day-to-day each one is a hired soldier..
fighting in their own battlefield..
not to kill a criminal or a terrorist..
rather a person striving for better life..
who can definitely say one's reason for living?
allow me to say that each one is struggling so..
one reason maybe is to earn a living..
one reason maybe is to gain power..
or this maybe one reason to share God's love...
who can tell hundred percent that such person can do harm?
isn't it, only by giving into chances that you can know one person..?
isn't it, through God's eyes we are all equal despite who we are here on earth..?
isn't it , through genuine acceptance that divisions and differences are broken?
isn't it reaching out is fine but alright?
sad to say that persons judge without knowing..
sad to say persons can conclude without even investigating..
sad to say, persons who are educated will look at others just by their race..
sad to say, persons outcast and demeans another person because of looks..
hired soldiers we maybe everyday..
true to say, we must on guard to others..
we must be vigilant to stay protected..
we must use all resources in us to keep living..
however, must we be hired soldiers to condemn and persecute innocence?
by: olive_eloi
19/10/2013 2:12pm