Long Deeming Poems
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Ah! Our heart! God search quest let’s here kick start,
deeming all souls one, none standing apart
but to be as such first ego must die,
that thus divine entwined, we wingless fly.
Head and heart linked, our soul becomes love inked,
no longer by narrow cravings hoodwinked,
looking not at form but spirit within
cave of all hearts, so we too look therein.
Blissful, joyous, entwined with existence,
we know love and light is our quintessence,
with each pore a door, presence keeps no score,
renewal continual soul’s encore.
Ah! Our heart! Let’s here now add love to cart,
with each emote uttered, a work of art.
Divorced from our true self, we wandered lost,
oblivious to truth of our being,
looming head-heart divide yet to be crossed,
with whispers of conscience disagreeing.
Trapped thus in a web of desire and fear,
joy in permanence soul sought was denied,
since ego let not love and light draw near,
deeming our waywardness as justified.
God, the dweller of our heart was dismayed,
yet waited for us, His child to awake
always ready to hasten to our aid,
by giving a gentle consciousness shake.
God’s left it to us to change our life’s course,
since touch of love applies no use of force.
It was Timi crying that she was Hurt
She saw Del with the Little Town Flirt
Eddie had the Summertime Blues
Carl was brushing his Blue Suede Shoes
Fat's said hey look at me I'm Walkin'
That left Chuck Reelin' and Rockin'
Dion was dating Runaround Sue
Sammy was wearing Lavender Blue
Johnny came from The Poor Side of Town
The Dovells were screaming You Can't Sit Down
The Impressions told everyone It's All Right
For Sam it was just Another Saturday Night
Ray felt bad because he was Born to Lose
Chuck Don't Want To Hang up his Rock and Roll Shoes
Paul crooned You Are My Destiny
Ben asked that you Stand By Me
Hank said Let's Go, Let's Go, Let's Go
Marty asked where to, maybe El Paso
Bobby had a date with Wild One
Ventures warned him, Walk, Don't Run
Dack and Dee Dee climbed The Mountain's High
Frankie stated Big Girls Don't Cry
The Shirelles were doing what Mama Said
Little Anthony cried I'm Going Out Of My Head
Elvis pleaded Don't Be Cruel
Leslie told him She's A Fool
Roy asked if he could be her Candy Man
Jimmy was already her Handy Man
While Frankie was asking everyone Why
Sue said Sad Movies Always Make Me Cry
Betty stated Shoop Shoop I's In His Kiss
Dean remarked Memories Are Made Of This.
This follow up was for Fred and Sue. God Bless you all.
Would you believe the site wouldn't let me post the name of the Mountain's high
male singer, deeming it obscene.
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
My
core
eludes
convinced I’m
under a moonspell’s
magnetic pulse anchored within
across bossa nova sambas strummed on nylon strings
luminous is this moonflower’s white petals contrast the deeming darkness
under a saudade of stars symmetry an opus pleasant to the ear, there in lateral
is my b u r i e d s o u l in s o i l so l o v e ’s d e e p s t e m s s t e a m ~
into sweet fragrance lingering in dawn’s ensemble, I its exhibit an external bloom only at night’s crescent-lit grace, strands of opalescent pearls, jewels face up, yet my thirst is still unquenched,
e a c h
n
i
g
h t a r
e
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e
w a l
entry for Old Christmas Poem Contest by Constance LaFrance
"Christmas treasure? A baby's worth is so complex
God can use all those things we'd mark off with an " X ". by Poet
Twas the night before Christmas, the manger's convinced,
it stands ready to cradle a Savior and Prince.
The no vacancy sign caused men's wonder and doubt,
manger's role is a pivot. God's working it out!
As we gawk, looking on well-known scene from the past
deeming inn-keeper's choice of a manger - miscast.
Though the stable was clean, men have questioned, reviled
why this ignoble place to birth God's only Child?
Host of animals set, angels' message is heard
in the Bethlehem fields causing sheep no small stir.
"Give all glory to God, there's no reason to fear,"
Lamb of God has come down; 'tis the season to cheer.
Time elapsed since the manger, a star claims the scene
in fair Bethlehem town, we find kings have convened.
The star signaled their hope in the easternmost skies
God cut short anxious Herod's deceitful disguise.
Those three gifts that kings brought were the promise and fee
this young family needed when God said to flee.
Christmas treasure? A baby's worth is so complex
God can use all those things we'd mark off with an " X ".
December 17, 2021
Recognising we are the universe,
one with God, as His spark within each heart,
we play our role with no need to rehearse,
deeming all souls as one and none apart.
Misaligned from love, some souls go astray,
yet we’re all entwined in a oneness field
and so with each breath we soundlessly pray,
oozing bliss mists that in time all be healed.
All worlds are but thought forms, just like a dream,
a dream we may say, we have created,
where sprinkling joy whilst atop love’s moonbeam,
pulsation of bliss is unabated.
Dwelling in our true home, beyond space-time,
we are poised in the pause betwixt love’s chime.
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring mor'n 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
Our ego’s impulse~
attract and repulse
both desire and fear,
deeming body dear.
The rot’s sunk in deep;
how’ll we take the leap?
Drop the bag of grief;
give soul some relief.
Vicious is each cut,
harsh words that rebut
love seeking love’s touch,
rebuffed by a punch.
Canvas contorted,
image distorted ~
so break the mirror,
let magnetism spur.
Heart’s void-centric stance,
continues to dance
in midst of each storm ~
embrace always warm.
Thus barbs thrown our way,
simply melt away,
burnt by the bliss flame,
for life’s but a game.
14-June-2022
Is religion just a rule book,
whose author’s intent we mistook,
reading not in between the lines,
creating divides hearts can’t brook?
God within us, for our love pines,
waiting for the day our soul shines
but since we dwell not in the heart,
we remain in ego’s confines.
Deeming all one and none apart,
shift to heart is the way to start,
knowing we are eternal light,
to behold which, is a learnt art.
Mind, we took as boon is now blight,
for it veils our aura bright white,
caging us in narrow belief,
dimming our spiritual sight.
Let us choose to turn a new leaf,
giving soul much needed relief,
embracing all, judging no one,
for our sojourn on earth is brief.
Let us here now then come undone,
for we’re the light that lights the sun,
dwelling in God’s heart, one with Him,
spreading love and light, having fun!