Long Dejectedly Poems
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A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
A humble man is what I am before you.
You see, I am not worthy to say…
“Sir, may I have your daughter’s hand,
But please yield to your wife’s pleas:
Calm down a while as I explain what’s deep in my heart.
Why deprive your daughter of a possible life of pure bliss..?
Because sir, understand that love’s triumph seldom fails.
You see sir, “a humble man standing before you is what I am.
The love and protection you have for your daughter I understand.
But you see “simple is what raised me,
A simple man, with simple needs.
A simple man who is able to love deeply and fairly.
Yes I have made my fair share of mistakes.
Might have scarred an angel or two,
But who was ever born with a heart of gold..?
A humble man is what I am before you.
You see sir; the heart is simply out of our control.
How can one ignore a beautiful feeling?
A feeling that pulls hard at every fore of your soul.
How at some point we all wish we could roll over and forget its undying existence.
But sir, who was ever given a constraint heart..?
Yes, a humble man is what I am.
You see, I work sir, to earn a living
You may as you have, call it slave work,
Unworthy to have your daughter as my own.
But you see, these hands are built,
Built to struggle and earn a better life,
No man was ever born fulfilled sir,
And no man ever chooses to be born poor.
A humble man is what I was brought up to be,
But you see sir; it hurts me to see your daughter turn her face away
Turn away, to hide soft tears, which ooze dejectedly from her pure eyes.
What crime have I committed not to be regarded worthy..?
Because you see sir, at the end of the day love’s triumph seldom fails.
A humble man, with a heart that will strive,
Simple ways that will overcome all tribulations,
A heart that has been pulled from its place of sheer hopelessness
Hands that will slave for a better life and future for your daughter.
An upbringing that will sweep her off her feet every chance there is;
Is what I am sir.
So you see sir, please listen and understand that love’s triumph seldom fails
When two hearts are willing.
IT SEEMS NATURE HAD OTHER PLANS
Our plan was to take a morning walk along the beach..as plans go it was a simple one…and once we arrived we headed south and east…toward the rising sun.
But a short time after arriving we soon became aware of what can only be described as an odiferous odor…wafting through the air.
We thought it might be red tide so…and since we hand’t walked too far…
dejectedly we turned around for the walk back to our car.
But then…for reasons we’ll never know…we felt almost immediately blessed…
because the odor quickly dissipated as we walked to the north and west.
We’ve walked this beach for many years…we didn’t think it held surprises anymore…but that morning we were treated to wonders we hadn’t seen or heard before.
The high tide had come and gone…we could see how far up the shore she reached…but what truly took us by surprise was, in her wake, what she left painted on the beach
Sea urchins, crabs, a sand dollar…a starfish…we wondered how can this be?
Shells in a multitude of shapes and colors as far as our eyes could see.
And we were not the only ones enjoying the tides early morning surprise…
there were snails, clams, oysters and crabs trying new shells on for size.
And if we weren’t feeling blessed enough seeing the sights as the ocean ebbed and flowed…out in water dolphins…pods of dolphins…began putting on a show.
They were swimming, jumping partying all the time while being fed…
They even had time to smile at the pelicans skimming above their heads.
Here’s an interesting fact…that might seem a little odd…
but a group of pelicans and a group of dolphins…they’re both called a pod.
Yes, walking to the north and west we were treated to a host of new and different sights and sounds….
And we realized if we wanted to catch the sunrise…all we had to do was turn around.
Our plan was to walk in the direction we alway walked…along the beach in the early morning that day…
But often we have found…the treasures that abound…when we let nature lead the way.
She is a wonderful baker…with magical baking skills she is endowed…
being able to make the perfect cookie has always made her proud.
If you ask her friends and family…as a baker they’d shay she’s a 10…
but even a perfect baker has an off day now and then.
She was making snow globe cookies for her church to be served on Christmas night…
but when it came to the last cookie…she couldn’t get the decorations right.
“His hat is wrong.” She lamented. “His eyes are too big and his nose has gone south…
His body isn’t smooth enough…and don’t get me started on his mouth.”
“Is that a scarf or a lobster claw? His arms are much too small…
This cookie,” she said dejectedly, “cannot be served at all.”
But she promised the church two dozen cookies and even thought it was not her best…
she didn’t have time to bake another…so she hid it under the rest.
She watched as children ate her cookies but as was to be her fate…
her ugly snow globe cookie was the last one on the plate.
As a mother handed this cookie to her daughter…the cookie she had botched…
the baker turned away…she was too embarrassed to watch.
“Thank you for the perfect cookie.” The mother told the baker…
The baker smiled thinking she was being kind…
until she saw the little girl with a crumb-filled smile sanding in front of her…
and realized…she was blind.
“Your cookie was delicious.” The young girl said as against her mother’s leg she leaned.
“It was the most beautiful cookie my hands have ever seen.
“His hat, his eyes…his nose…his scarf…his mouth…I could feel them all…
I love how you kept his body rough…did you mean to make his arms so small?”
I’m not sure how or why, you did it….the girl said enthusiastically
but it was as if that perfect cookie…you created just for me…
Now the baker always brings two batches of perfect cookies with her
and everyone understands
one half are for those who see them with their eyes…
The other half…for those who see them with their hands.
“I’m going to give you the same gift,” her grandma told her on her 7th birthday,
“that my grandma gave to me.”
Then she took her to the backyard and pointed to a tree.
“I don’t see a present,” Grandma, “ her granddaughter said somewhat dejectedly,
“Just a big red ribbon wrapped all the way around that tree.”
Grandma chuckled. “That’s exactly what I said when my grandma gave it to me
Yes, for your birthday this year, honey…you present is that tree.”
“It may look just like an old tree to you but all throughout the Spring
she transforms into a music box as the birds within her sing.”
“In the heat of summer her generosity is unmistakably displayed…
She’ll be there to cool you off by offering you her shade.”
“In the Autumn just before the leaves from her depart…
She becomes a thing of beauty…a one-of-a-kind work of art.”
“She loves to sleep throughout the winter…as the snows to her bark clings….
So she’ll be ready once again…when you need her in the Spring.”
“The more time you spend with your tree…oh the wonders you will learn.
You’ll see she gives her gifts to you freely…hoping only for your love in return.”
“And perhaps the greatest gift this tree will give you…one of the marvels of her creation
is every time you play in and around her…she'll stir your imagination.”
“The more comfortable the two of you become…she’ll no longer be just a tree….
She’ll be anything you can imagine…and you…anyone you imagine yourself to be.”
“It is our hope…this tree’s and mine.” she said as she gave her granddaughter a lift…
“That one day you will come to understand…how every tree’s a gift.”
“And perhaps they’ll come a time when your climbing days are through……
you will give your granddaughter the same gift your grandma gave to you.
God's love never fails
Some live their lives all tangled...
not knowing what's in store
Falling into a drunken stupor...
when they wake they're wanting more
Criminals are getting wiser...
as innocents lie in their blood
God sees every little thing they do...
and HE remembers the flood
Chorus
And so HE gave- HIS only-begotten
to save us from this sinful jail...
If only- we repent and obey HIM
That's when...God's love never fails
There are fatherless children...
needy widows suffer too
They cry out to powers of heaven...
And HE knows just what to do
Some women kill their unborn child...
then dejectedly look away
They don't know if they're forgiven...
scared to face their judgement day
Chorus
And so HE gave- HIS only-begotten
to save us from this sinful jail...
If only- we repent and obey HIM
That's when...God's love never fails
Some steal to make a living...
train their kids to do the same
But, they don't know about their Maker
they don't even know HIS name
Greedy men who love their money...
They'd sell their mother for a dime
Sunday's come and go while they're on their yacht
For God there just isn't time
Chorus
And so HE gave- HIS only-begotten
to save us from this sinful jail...
If only- we repent and obey HIM
That's when...God's love never fails
Chorus
And so HE gave- HIS only-begotten
to save us from this sinful jail...
If only- we repent and obey HIM
That's when...God's love never fails
That's when...God's love never fails
That's when...God's love never fails
repeat and fade
John Derek Hamilton
July 25,2019
At rock-bottom is my self-image
I dejectedly walk on life-road
My own self I often disparage
And so carry mentally a heavy load
I try to build up enough courage
But I am unable to find a mode
Deep regrets, my thoughts keep
Steep agony in life I ever reap
Peep into my mind to know I weep
Why is gloom in my custody
Known only to the creator?
Why my soul sings a sad melody
By acting low in the World-theater?
Why I view my life as a tragedy
Can be known only by God-Operator
Too many cuts have upon my soul fallen
The fate is the perpetrator cum sculptor
I to my own self look like a villain
I feel I am a very bad administrator
Somehow I happen to be highly sullen
I wish let God be a terminator not protector
Too many agonies have destroyed my view
New ideas alone can do the needed rescue
To sue the Almighty I have a valid issue
This life sometimes I despise
Any how often I try to recoup
I have learned the technique to sacrifice
By joining the humbled man's group
Still beauties of this World entice
To put me in a poisonous soup
To bring in my image an upward trend
Often I have not met with sweet success
I am a soul who could not ascend
As the needed talent I do not possess
World's attitude I could not comprehend
And so I do everything in excess
Trick of fate gives me a kick
Thick losses I in life pick
Basic happiness comes not to lick
If God reduces my tension
And gives my soul cool shade
My deep thanks to Him I will mention
As love towards me is displayed
If He gives to me His noble attention
All my life's hurdles can be outplayed
I heard the door open. It was Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister),
she’d been out on a date. I was the only one in the living room
as she came in and sagged, dejectedly onto the huge, white
sectional couch, right next to me. She looked positively
deflated. Which is unusual because up until now,
she’s been all freckles and smiles
Ok, here’s where we get poetic and rhyme, with innuendo and allusion:
Me: “Did you have a good time?”
Leeza: “No but I was trying.”
Me: “Did he get handsy—the swine?”
Leeza: “Argh! No—but his kisses are a crime.”
I gasped: “You didn’t give him a climb!?”
Leeza “NO!” she said, somewhat horrified.
Me (trying to be neutral): “No judging, it would have been.. fine (I lied).”
Leeza: “That’s never going to happen.”
“Good,” I declared, “he was just a distraction—and, you know Santa.”
“What about Santa?”
Whew, that’s enough of THAT (rhyming business).
She asked, so, yeah, I sang it.. I had to.
“He knows who you’ve been kissing,
what you’re thinking when you’re awake,
he knows if you’ve been bad or good—
he’s kind of like a cop that way.”
After a moment's silence Leeza asked,
“Is there something creepy about that?”
“Only if you think about it.” I admitted,
as she put her head on my shoulder.
.
.
A song for this:
Fairytale of New York (feat. Kirsty MacColl) by The Pogues
.
.
A Christmas Playlist! There’s 6 days til Christmas (and Hanukkah)
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3
Scores of years... post high school graduation...
Whether with/without
spectacles regarding myopia, yours truly
boasts twenty twenty highsight
able, eager and willing to site
emotional, mental, physical
and spiritual deficits
lamely attempting to
explain how one bright
eyed and bushy
tailed older fellow
oft times described
existential nihilist plight
unable to validate
lifetime psychological blight
purportedly manifesting while in utero
citing reiterating “fake”
trumpism statement might
eventually assume truth, I aver delight,
yet neither blaming those
who begot me quite
willingly, masterfully, consensually..., nor
said male offspring dejectedly write
ting total purposelessness, though
abysmal, dismal, normal... thoughts invite
themselves to take residence much
to mine evil doppelganger's delight
generate, foment and excite
once upon a time did
zealously and roundly kickstart
damnation, humiliation,
lamentation, positioning twilight
xing analogous brutal dog fight
to the death, courtesy
psychiatric intervention did alight
reprieve against near rigor mortis,
whereby mortality inexorably did not bite
the dust, yet left emaciated fright
this then starved boy day and night
scaring, mortifying, horrifying...
surviving kith and kin ready to write
untimely obituary whose
freed atheistic spirit,
would ascend stairway to heaven
forever celestial transcending
manumission to infinite height!
Deep pain penetrates my soul
Life has gone out of control
Agony is playing a devilish role
To complete its cruel role
Problems inundate to frustrate
I love to become Mr. Late
Heaven has closed its gate
Devil has come to investigate
Heart has lost fully all its hope
I am to hang search for a rope
I am sure for me there is no scope
With life I find it difficult to cope
She simply ignored my love
Caring not is this God-above
I feel like ending my life now
Will anyone teach me how?
If I am completely eliminated
And at the earliest cremated
Surely peace can be created
This is dejectedly by me stated
Let thunder fall on my lousy head
Let bad words about me be said
I wait eagerly to fall shabbily dead
Let devils drink soon my bad blood
I must be by Angels terribly cursed
I must not be by any one nursed
Joy and me are forever divorced
All my songs are only sadly versed
As no one likes my presence
Hatred I can surely sense
If a pen to write my hand opens
Even my ideas refuse me defense
O- God- I beg you to kill me soon
I want from you only that boon
Let me vanish like the cool moon
Crush my life like that of a cocoon
I beg you to consider my application
I love to enjoy this dying occasion
As killing is purely your avocation
To you I have given an indication.
mvvenkataraman