Long Delighted Poems
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We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
A new dawn,
Unveiled hopes and surreal ecstatic.
The smiles on their faces,
Heralded news,
The folks were delighted.
It was worth every ounce of struggle.
Though, a dilemma.
Afraid of separation.
Yet, desperate to experience the journey.
The ambience compelled me.
I was finally seen off,
I was on a voyage to satisfy nature's balance.
Now I learned the way of flying.
They had fed me once, now the tables had turned.
The man I was had been called a coward.
They celebrated my bravery now.
Decorated badges shone and made them proud.
I lost one and two things to earn it.
Was it really worth it?
The grasp of my anxiety grew.
On a bright sunny day,
I was summoned by a great war.
The fallen heroes' cries haunted me,
They never let me close my eyes.
Though I dodged death,
My mates did not.
When consciousness returned.
A stream of blood filled my sight.
Decapitated bodies, blasted arms,
Eyes bulging out of their sockets,
The fallen were the luckiest.
One who lived was burning in hell.
Men begged me to put an end to their agony.
Our eyes shed blood,
Tears dried out.
I wished to shoot my brains out too.
The nefarious haunted site was too much to bear.
"I couldn't" I cried ....
A bullet shell dropped beside me.
I had killed my own man, or had I helped him?
His heart wide opened, and my shank.
My shin mangled, my eardrums burst.
"Medic! Medic! Medic!"
A few men rushed and took me away.
I only saw them talking but heard no word.
Certainly they would cut it.
The pain fainted me right away.
A chunk of metal cost me a leg.
What would a hurt man do?
Run away to his folks.
So did I.
The smile on their faces now faded.
They hardly talked about their dream again.
Blames encompassed a loop.
Still celebrated as a hero.
The shell-shock and vivid imagery of the war,
Ran through my mind every now and then.
I never slept again.
Trapped inside a war I had never waged.
It had now changed my periphery of life.
I despised it.
The fallen were the luckiest.
I couldn't even stand on my own.
I barely opened my mouth, only to be fed.
There it hangs, my greatest achievement,
So the folks claimed.
Why did I live in guilt then?
Was it to hide my sins,
Or to make me feel proud?
The barrage of questions and bullets,
Never left my conscience.
I may have quit the war,
It still ran inside my head.
Our cooperative DNA research
reveals a realistically positive attitude
and eco-founded optimism,
along with some acceptance of dissonance
as not merely dysfunctional.
with ego-learning
re-extending sacred ecological merit
to help us accomplish great loves
in all integrity's polypaths
of shared EarthTribe ReGenerative Daily Life.
What we still do not know,
yet hope is true and beautiful and healthy,
ecotherapeutic,
Why do our day-to-day decisions
co-determine how each Ego navigates through great and small transition points,
why identity co-evolves through and beyond
each EgoRelational Life?
What if DNA/RNA Solidarity
lives even another thousand years of Earth Days?
Reincarnating fresh mindbodies
possessing, owning, claiming,
proclaiming polyculturally re-ligioning memories
of this 1(0)-EgoMind/EcoBody we are collectively becoming,
back in this Trans-ReLigioning EarthNetwork Era
On back through 1/(0)
co-arising win/win Ego/EcoCenter
of BiLateral SpaceHere/NowTime,
co-gravitating EarthTribal enlightenment,
1(0) 1Convex-Linear polarity/BlackConcave Hole
Not-Not TransParent BiNomial WinWin
dipolar apposition
ReGenerating,
ReIterating
ReCycling
RePurposing
ReMembering
ReConnecting
ReLigioning
Eternally copresent
in each Earth organic enlightened Day
and co-empowering Night,
and CoRevolving Fractal Year
of EarthDay octaved co-passionate
positive
and not so much negative
gratitude attitude.
Earth Day,
emerging from red dawns
resonating through true blue dusk
wealthy moonlit Earth Nights
ruled by Bodhisattva PeaceWarriors.
To love each day
as if 1(0)-eternal co-binary
anticipates this Self/Other perpetuating
EarthDay/Night co-emerging planet,
consulting and consorting
with one's most delighted
non-zero healthy
cooperatively overflowing Ego
as self-other co-relational
wealth of identity.
Any day that feels more confined by fear and anger
mind-neglect and/or body-abuse
than refined by love
as healthy desire
for EarthTribe re-ligioning peace
for Ego as for each EcoCentered Other,
is another day invested
in learning what EarthDay integrally means
by resolving win/win love
your win/lose enemies
To know and respect Ego's contentious boundaries,
pretentious boulders
along Earth's Tao River
of Yang/Yin co-gravitating
DayLight Space and NightPower Time.
The same striking man, the same lush, green land,
cushioned and delighted her heart in sleep.
Her romantic dream of senses was most grand
unless repeated fears began their slow, dark creep;
drowning and stabbing frights would often expand.
She would then wake, shaken, and try to understand.
This consistent dream had always just been.
Each night, the familiar reel repeated
with new chapters unfolding now and then.
Six sweet, white roses were never deleted
and repeatedly appeared at her dream’s end -
always pure white of a love intense blend.
She touched the new, glossy travel brochure,
ran her fingers along the pictured tree,
reminding herself that she was quite sure
it was the same tree her sleeping eyes did see.
This tree of certain enchanting allure
is what urged on her travel towards tomorrow's tour.
**********************************************
The guide led her slowly to the charming tree.
Its presence moved her into a faint-type sway.
When her trance-like eyes finally broke free
they took in surrounding nature’s breathtaking array,
and paused at her dream recalled mound of clay
where six, white roses lay in a love intense display.
Visibly shaken, the guide sat her gently down.
Sitting, too, he began sharing an ancient tale.
“Centuries agone, the prince loved a poorly
maiden from town. Family, foes and doctrine bid
this love to fail. They eloped, cloaked by soft darkness
draped all around. He wore armor and his beauty wore
her plain gown.”
“They returned after six love-days of bliss.
Only hours back 'fore his true love vanished.
No sign, no clue, the prince sought all amiss
and threatened the guilty would be banished.
The prince finally found her in the sea’s mist
with stab wounds he would not ever dismiss.”
“He buried his love and also a spell in this clearing.
He left no marker but a white rose for each day
he and his wife had shared perfect, loving, pairing.
So sure his spell would bring her near with love revered,
he vowed to watch over her grave using spell's sway
and to join her within three moons after she appeared."
The guide asked, “how much longer do you plan to stay?”
She glowed, “I must linger at least three moons after today.”
It is very impressive to go westward
in an early morning of midwinter,
because you will see a full moon
that you have forgotten for a while
in the middle of the western sky.
[The westward moon is, perhaps,
the one that Li T’ai-Po
who was bewitched by
and delighted by a moon so much
chanted poems in praise of the moon
throughout his life,
after breaking a thick frozen ice on the lake,
scooped an August full moon
that is not sunken but still floating
on the surface of water,
and pasted it to the wintry sky.]
Although the air in my car is still cold as ice,
and roadside snow is being melted from salt spray
and messy, covered with splashes of dirty water,
the moon, like a virgin still chaste,
[By manmade machine and men,
the moon, though, lost her virginity long ago,]
looks immaculate and gorgeous as ever.
For the moon
riding high in the western sky
enjoying the honor and admiration that is entitled
only to virgin girls
though she lost it long ago,
the north wind,
because of her envy toward the moon,
was wandering in the frozen waste
pleasure driving a sheer-white chariot
brings a violent snowstorm,
and heartlessly shakes the moon
that barely hangs on the midwinter’s western sky
to fall.
After so much abuse,
kicks, stamps, smacks, and blows of violent wind
that of more than she can bear
the frightened moon flees to south, then to east
with her paled and waning face,
and finally disappears somewhere
where no one will able to find her.
Total darkness covers the earth,
overwhelms to deny everything.
At the edge of this darkness
a somewhat eerie looking hunchbacked creature
[Although he was much intelligent,
yet tenderhearted, a man more sensitive
than the worldly-minded ordinary persons,]
comes and searches for the disappeared moon,
and when he finds
a segment of a shattered piece of moon on the earth,
he embraces it in his bosom with tears of joy,
and falls to the ground with his last breath.
And as a hunchback perishes
a young man with more holes
than the shattered pieces of fallen moon in his rungs,
who always whispered sadly to the waning moon
while leaning against a southward window frame,
comes and carries the hunchback’s remains hurriedly
in the cart to an eastern gateway, with gasping,
to the place where the full moon dwells, with panting.
1 John 4:18 (KJV)
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
Basically there are two paths you can walk: faith or fear. It's impossible to simultaneously trust God and not trust God. ~ Charles Stanley
I was afraid to take my first step
There was pain in falling to my knees
But I finally walked, always progressing
Into the toddler who would hurry from
One room to the next, always delighted
With my finds which led to me to explore
Everywhere I went, inside and outside
Under rocks and under beds, in closets
And beneath tables, wherever I might find
The chance to awaken my soul to insights
I was afraid to stand up and read in front
Of my classmates as a child who was learning
To know the difference in a noun and a verb
The way to speak certain sentences with a
Gentle voice or more dramatic expression
Of what was given to me on the sweet pages
That would eventually lead me to finding
The best answers, greatest treasures of
Imagination and victories, the sources of my
Hopes and dreams, encouragements and beliefs
I was afraid to listen to my heart’s soft influence
The first time I kissed someone who held the
Key to my heart and my most intimate thoughts
With their kindness and grace they could hurt me
And sway me away from the ideas to which I clung
Giving me the opportunity to grow and learn from
All the beauties they would open up to my world
Healing and enchanting. Splendors of great worth
Whispering to my spirit about faith, hope and love
Brilliant inspirations sent down from God above
I was afraid and fear sometimes gripped my soul
With talons of deep ebony which longed for a victory
This fear begged me to let go of my hopes and prayers
Live on the chains of it’s deceiving confinement
Warning me that faith would lead me to know pain
In ways that I would like to avoid, but still I choose
To do the things that brought me through the fear
Into a deeper relationship with faith, which would
Slowly lead me through all the fears I might cling to
Despite my worst anxieties, faith increased inside of me
Fear lost the victory and now faith is the winner who
Leads me down the path of hopes and dreams which
Increase every day, and strengthen me as I pray
If my poetry moves you to witness to stranger
Just know that I'm touched that you're "sharing my ride,"
For the fact is that giving can be fraught with danger,
But those that it calls feel much warmer inside!
I have so little knowledge to call my invention
Some came from my parents, from people I've met
But the gift of the spirit defies all convention
It's holy, profound, precious gift without debt.
Even muse I call gift, for it waters my soul's growth,
An alternate path that the spirit can take
Truth that's flavored by strangers, by loved ones, I've seen both,
Fresh air never sweeter, Grace purges mistake!
Spirit truth has no owner like jewel or gold dust,
It's one with Creation; you'll know it by feel.
Although Midas (1) got gold, all his love turned to soul rust,
The gift of the Spirit is simply to heal!
Brian Johnston
June 13, 2017
Poet's Notes:
(1) From Greek mythology - Wikipedia
"One day, as Ovid relates in Metamorphoses, Dionysus found that his old schoolmaster and foster father, the satyr Silenus, was missing. The old satyr had been drinking wine and wandered away drunk, to be found by some Phrygian peasants who carried him to their king, Midas (alternatively, Silenus passed out in Midas' rose garden). Midas recognized him and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with politeness, while Silenus delighted Midas and his friends with stories and songs. On the eleventh day, he brought Silenus back to Dionysus in Lydia. Dionysus offered Midas his choice of whatever reward he wished. Midas asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.
Midas rejoiced in his new power, which he hastened to put to the test. He touched an oak twig and also a stone; both turned to gold. Overjoyed, as soon as he got home, he touched every rose in the rose garden, and all became gold. He ordered the servants to set a feast on the table. Upon discovering how even the food and drink turned into gold in his hands, he regretted his wish and cursed it. Claudian states in his In Rufinem: "So Midas, king of Lydia, swelled at first with pride when he found he could transform everything he touched to gold; but when he beheld his food grow rigid, and his drink harden into golden ice then he understood that this gift was a bane and in his loathing for gold, cursed his prayer."
We were taking our nightly walk in suburbia.
Every evening after dark, the same routine-
Well, that night we were in for a surprise
Every light in the neighborhood went out!
Right then, I slipped off of the sidewalk.
Excruciating pain radiated from my ankle.
Even though I could see nothing, I reached.
Never had I felt so helpless, in my life.
Just when I was about to lose my balance again, I felt his hand.
Obviously, he saw that I needed help, I, screaming loudly.
Yet, again he calmed me, pulled me close, and held me.
I knew we had to look at my leg.
Not that it was broken, but probably sprained.
Getting home seemed like it would be impossible, ominous.
Almost apocalyptic!
Strongly, he shouted, “Come on, we’ll make it if I have to drag you.”
To my surprise, I felt his big hairy hands grab me.
Right as I was about to sink to the ground again,
Over his shoulders I was tossed!
Like a sack of potatoes, I hung there…not walking.
Laughing inside because I knew I was safe with him,
I clung on for dear life!
Not knowing what was next, and scared.
Ominous thoughts began to flood my imagination.
U. F. O. s appeared in my mind’s eye…abduction!
Reality turned fuzzy.
Nuclear invasions by aliens seemed factual.
Explosions boomed all around.
I Screamed, not with pain, but with terror.
Gasping, I cried, “Get me out of here! “
“Hurry, please!”
Blackness everywhere and he looked at me weird.
Oh, how I wished for a flicker of light.
Raw fear was overpowering reason.
He, on the other hand, seemed to brave it well.
Often, in the past, he had shown courage, too.
Oblivious to the real world, I pounded his back.
Delighted to be safe, although half upside down!
Just then, he started hysterical laughing.
Usually, he was calm in every situation.
So, I wondered what was going on.
Terrible thoughts intruded; even shadows frightened me.
Practically frozen with fear, I could hardly breathe.
Afraid my heartbeat would be heard.
Sane, but wondering if I were crazy.
Trying to talk, but my voice kept cracking.
“Desperately,” I shouted, “Look up in the sky!
Aliens are coming to get us. We are going to die!
Reassuring me, he said, "You are going to be all right.
Keeping hope, he took me down the dark streets to the hospital!
©February 18, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
my makeup was fabulously light green, lips ruby red
I fit in well with the theme, witches, warlocks and the undead
the blue I had sprayed in my hair glittered like starlight
when we entered the party, a gang began a quick fight
my witch hat was pointed at an odd funny angle
could I get a dance? Just one maybe wrangle?
I looked at my husband whose nose gave a twitch.
I looked fabulous as a sexy, gorgeous young witch
my husband dressed as Dracula with cape and red tie
he watched me dance with another, we both wondered why
the rest of the night my man spun me around the floor
I had not danced in a while, my legs and heart said we wanted more.
My friend laughed at our exuberance yelled out “get a room!”
I gave her a gentle tap on the head with my yellow straw broom.
the food was delicious, the drinks were cold and refreshing.
my husband’s eyes were on me, I knew he was undressing.
funny to me, since we already had two babies at home.
the next thing I knew, I was picked up by a gnome.
The gnome ran off with me to the ladies room to gab.
she had a lot to tell me, and she wanted to blab.
this was a Halloween party provided by my school.
At our principal’s house, and he was now a fool.
Made silly by drinks, which went straight to his head.
His wife was so embarrassed, she sent him to bed.
teacher friends were dressed as goblins, super heroes, and a ghost.
We all discussed unabashedly the craziness of our elusive host.
He was a shy guy, and would be embarrassed to death about this.
A cobra slithered up to me and tried to speak with a hiss.
Nancy! I was delighted, she was my best pal at school.
She had a lot to confide about our nemesis, Mr. O’Toole.
O’Toole was walking around saying dumb things to everyone.
Speaking with Nancy about him was incredibly fun.
My husband was devouring everything off a huge silver tray.
Tidbits and appetizers in black, orange, yellow, and gray.
two jack-o-lanterns were giving me a clever candle wink.
I felt cute tonight, happy, totally energetic, and in the pink.
we had a sitter that night for the first time since our second baby.
Do you want to go home yet? I stared at my man. “No, yes, maybe.”
With two children at home under the age of two, this was a delight.
A marvelous Halloween party that made me feel happy and right.
Trekking The Unwary
The beauty of this day, or is it the night
Cynical her way, Alaskans weathers her blight
The touch of her nature, the chills from her bite
Broken mobile, lost alone, this plane of sight
My family thoughts, as it renders me warmth
For the hardened ground, this snowflaked swamp
Alone, and here upon this land, Alaskan cold, the Northern sand
No helpful hope, no rescuing plan
The point of center, it's the no man's land
Which direction I go, two choices in hand
Continuing towards, the summer home abode
Or turn another, towards the Trappers, journeying road
For now into the forest, between the trees
A cozy nest to find, simple spot avoids the freeze
I'm awakening in morning, now it's time to go
Head towards the Trapper, I remember this fellow.
As my hunger grows, I look upon the trees
The vines, the berries, their frozen leaves
The day goes by, I trek some more
Weary I thirst, hearing a river, the sounds adore
I follow its sound, more and more, closer profound
A watering hole, and the animals around
Quenching my thirst, I see my dish
Beautiful is nature, offering me this fish
I made a stake, from the branch I break
Into the stream, I go, as I stab and take
A quicken fire, the scent of roasted fish I make
Now fulfilled my desire, my stomach won't ache
In a corner my bed, sweet dreams tonight relate.
Awakened by the sound, loud and frightful, miles around
A dreaded bear, larger than a car, his territory I fear
Without a thought, with my stake I flee
The sounds of his victim, his saliva tasting me
Luckily I see, standing, a life-saving tree
I leap upon, I climb this one, bruises gained, my hurting knee
I gained some height, and below my plight
This animal gazing at me
"Go, and leave me be!"
"Leave me alone, get away from me!"
And in his failure, attempts to push this tree
Growing weary after, his brawl subsided with me
Trembling I was, but not of the weary cold
But delighted, I'll live today, as tomorrow my story's told
I trekked each day, all of the 200 mile
Towards the Trappers home, hopeful feelings inside
Through forested cold, and the fearful wild
This guy I knew and handshake we do
Greeting me, a warm, and welcoming smile...
S
F
B
Trekking the unwary
January 3rd, 2017.