Long Despairingly Poems
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Shuffling through life in a slow and painful way
Expecting the worst almost every single day
The lonely, angry man who had never felt love
Had no idea he had spiritual guardians above
They tried to reach his heart in a variety of ways
But he hardened it careful, and never did praise.
He had been hurt by his father and mother.
He had given up on people including his brother.
Until their deaths, the twins lived in the same town.
Neither reaching out, both feeling quite despairingly down.
It’s too bad they did not have each other their guides often said.
Hoping they would be reunited and happier before they were dead.
It was a life that was wasted, which they figured out on their review.
We sent you together, so at least you would have each other, you two.
Sure your parents were not the best, but these lessons were for you.
Now you have to re-live this life so you can learn what to much better do.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention offspring
boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
All she wanted was love, but he
forgot the dreamy days of yore.
Gone were those sweet caresses,
Gone were the walks hand in hand,
Gone was any passionate lovemaking.
All sentiment evaporated into bank accounts,
and soon he found others interested
in spending his hard-earned money.
She stayed at home, sad, lonely and crying.
She dared not find solace anywhere.
Until one day he returned...drunk.
He took his pleasure in using force
and killed her fragile body and soul.
She walked towards the beckoning sea,
and walked and walked blindly,
though she could not swim.
Behind her, she left a short note:
No one cries beneath the brine,
which cannot wash away your filthy attempt.
The seed of love was now
definitely despairingly dead.
NB This is part truth, part fiction. And has got nothing to do with my life. I was a mere spectator of life. I was in a way sad that the man ruined such a love because of money. Such a brutal man never learns it seems.
In old London
the Thames used to be muddy,
not muddy like the Mississippi,
but the mud of the drowned,
murdered, and of long lost dreams.
On gray dawns
scrawny kids would sift through
the detritus that washed up
on its stony riverbank,
small objects that belonged
to the once living.
Sometimes a good ring or wristwatch
would be fished out of the effluvium,
more often rags,
chicken or rat bones.
Those who once stood beside
these dark waters
may have looked deeply into them
as if despairingly predicting
cold malnourished hands
scooping up their dreams
to be sold for pennies.
I feel hope for the future in my daughter's eyes.
I see she’s a loving woman so worldly and wise.
A person who freely gives, rather than takes,
A mentor, who strives to correct other’s mistakes.
I see a judge whose decisions are just and fair.
A woman who toils to end suffering and despair.
I see a beauty who walks with style and grace,
Who warms other’s hearts, by the smile on her face.
A crusader for the downtrodden, for the poor & weak,
For them she will be a voice, not afraid to speak.
I see laughter and fun, and merriment galore,
Rooms will brighten, as she walks through the door,
I see talent and charm, and humility within her soul,
Serenely gentle, inner strength to complete each goal,
Yes, I feel hope for the future in my daughter’s eyes,
As she stands before me, and despairingly sighs,
Hands on hips, she marches over to the accident scene,
She looks at the puddle of spilt drink, begins to clean.
“Teddy you spilt your drink ! Oh never mind, want some tea?”
Yes I feel she’s our future…… She’s nearly three.. ! ! !
When she is older, she will have her own cause,
She'll rule the world and irradicate all wars....
......... Perhaps .......
I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
Both soft eyes, though brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and flowed across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?
"melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams " (by poet)
a gift from my father - on the first day of college,
"Golden Treasury"...A book of poetry...
the first poem I read... "She Walks In Beauty".
I carried that book throughout my life, even when I stopped reading poems...
even when poetry wasn't the priority any more,
Instead I looked at recipe-books - how to improve my culinary skills,
and became almost a champion chef in a few months.
Wordsworth and Browning were far away from my thoughts,
Coleridge? Oh No! Porphyria's Lover, and Ancient Mariner...
did not exist in my world of reality!
how many glorious summers went by ~ how many frosty winters ~
Delicious food, excellent company,
chasing after active children, stressing about job-opportunities,
exotic travels, grandiose entertainment ...
had time for every little trivial thing in the world...but no time for
the book my father imagined his daughter would embrace the most!
then one miraculous day...when even my father gradually forgot
the girl who used to blossom in the world of words, and poetry....
I found my precious friend collecting dust,
neglected, discarded, in the corner of a shelf.. couldn't believe it was waiting for me with a beating heart ~
each and every page came alive with a magical touch ~
still my name clearly visible, handwritten with my father's calligraphic dexterity !
almost shaking to spot my long-lost treasure, I cried!
overwhelmed with emotions, tears fell!
as if a candle burnt and melted.
every drop of tears brought back the lavender memories ~
of an exhilarating past... my passions, my yearnings,
tender dreams of lilac hues never attained, the abandoned path I was supposed to tread ...
a path strewn with lyrics and verses, ballads and
sonnets like blazing auburn leaves of autumn ~
now shockingly empty and despairingly barren.
the forgotten aspirations and never-met goals...the tremendous sense of loss,
of crushing heart-break, of torturous frustration,
all flooded in!
many lonely years have gone by!
melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams
ultimately my first love has returned !
First Place
May 15, 2021
Inspired by “ He gave her a book” contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Gazing into a clear lake pool . . .
I saw a reflection of my life before me.
The gaze and what I saw depicted . . .
A progression of past life experiences.
I savored the funny and kind moments . . .
Looked despairingly on the difficult moments.
This gaze into the mirror of my soul . . .
Astounds and confounds me still today.
And the knowledge that we are all . . .
Much more than the sum of our parts,
Means so much more to me today.
What I’ve learned are six things . . .
Ignorance begets Stupidity,
Knowledge begets Wisdom,
Inspiration begets Creativity,
Light begets Illumination,
Passion begets Vivacity,
Love begets Happiness (but not all the time).
To know yourself . . .
You must see and sense yourself
In the mirror of your own soul.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(September 28, 2014) (Free Verse poetic format)
My ego-cracker, silent observer and prayer flag hoister …
she birthed bloodied an embodied freedom seeker, genes helixed with slavery, in early hours of a winter’s day, cold was dark room
petunia posy planter fed four mouths marjoram on Malay curry and rice, with scarcity being her best stage act when hunger a primary protagonist
she announced there was nothing when everything circled happily, then declared abundance when cupboards stared dust
Piscean, she presented toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to, shook away delicious aloe dreams as tests rounded a corner with bed lamps flickering time out
my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases, dispatching me on shopping chores when I planned dancing ~
my leap into sublimated Sovereignty depended on unraveling bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios swirling sorrowfully in shore walk shells
I despairingly detached from her plundering pain, her principal pleasures, subtle oomph
a sophisticated Archetype hallowed that Jung would label Grecian Urn shallow
I offered awaiting Sky breasts, hips and sighs through strategies of temperance and slow witch manoeuvring
my divinity and verses would have black burnt in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trailing pegs, variegated embroidery cotton and oatmeal scones
~~~~~~~~~~~
I said to my son,
He said back to me,
To be honest with us,
I'm worried
We want to be happy
while bypassing disciplines of left-brain healthy
is not too right-brain cooperatively sappy.
But, after my ancient lifetime of trying
directly for prosperous happy
that may or may not lead to left-brain healthy,
that may or may not lead to right-brain wealthy,
I hope you can benefit
from what we redundantly say,
more than what I've actually done
in front of you
and behind your back,
confronted you,
denied,
and what I've failed to take left-with-right back.
We want to be happy
and to win wealthy left-brain ego-fame
however flashingly synaptic
even at the price of ignoring natural/spiritual resilient healthy
is not all that win/win polyanna maniacally sappy
nor lose/lose despairingly immoral crappy
So I have done
and we long to be done
with such lose-happy and lose-wealthy self-prophetic life confusion
profusion
contusion,
Of unhappy cognitive left
and disaffected unwealthy right
dissonance
provokes short-term wounded choices for mere satiation
because long-term resiliently healthy happiness
feels too right-brain prominent sappiness
suffering left-brain crappiness
Both un-together remaining mutually blind
to integrity of global win/win GoldenRule manners,
uncrappy and unsappy,
too remotely not experienced on our shared big mainframe
but maybe flimmery-glimmers of light emerge
in more everyday lighter healthy,
wealthy,
and wise here/now
space/timeless moments.
To be honest with you,
I'm worried
we want to know abundant happiness
without accepting and committing to our win/win integrity
as ego/eco-systemic
left/right cooperatively integral
Red/BlueGreen
yang-fire/yin-water
holistic nonsectarian
non-partisan
non-violently communicating health vulcanizers,
optimizers,
re-creators,
transubstantiators,
creolizers,
With happy inter-hemispheric ego/eco-logicality
speaking dipolar bi-loyally
in cooperatively resilient
health/wealth solidarity
Which I think everyone would regeneratively agree
is not too sappy
nor too degeneratively crappy
to remain responsibly happy
despite all our co-arising snappy facts
without contextual slappy feelings.