Long Dilemma Poems
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Source material : The Hinduism classical mythology epic, The Mahabharata.
Arjuna, the great worrier of the Mahabharata epic,
stands transfixed at the fringe of Kurukshetra battlefield,
hears the thunder of thousand conch shells
announce the start of the valiant battle.
He lifts his heavy bow, but it slips from his hands.
His brave spirit falters,
for he sees in front his kins and mentors,
lined up to fight against him;
he ponders to win the war he needs to kill them.
Faced with humane predicament
the hero in him feels disheartened,
for the load of bravery is too heavy to bear,
urging him to exit the battlefield.
He asks his conscience in despair,
“what is the meaning of victory
if it entails killing the loved and revered ones.?”
He then hears the godly voice of his charioteer
that echoes the eternal truth :
“the soul is immortal and indestructible,
transcends birth and death.
Perform you duty with equanimity as a worrier,
for true karmic liberation lies in seeing oneself
as an artifact of divine will,
balancing the modes of success and failure.”
Transformed by the guidance of his charioteer,
Arjuna comes out of the emotional dilemma,
regains his mental acumen
that expands his vision beyond victory and defeat,
far away from the conundrum life and death
to perceive selflessly the need
for surrender to the supreme.
His gloomy mind is then illumined
by the gracious glare of dharma.
As he picks up his bow and arrow
for the fiercest of all battles,
he realizes that the toughest battle of life
is fought within the awakened soul.
Descendent of proto humans
dumbfounded, mystified, stupefied, et cetera
despite plethora of technological trappings,
whereby world wide web virtually linkedin
allowing, enabling, and providing
instantaneous electronic feedback,
I still experience dearth
of mental, psychological and social
meaningfulness amidst cerebral chaos
courtesy healthy mailer daemons
occupying sixty plus shades of gray matter
more valuable then any terrain
designated as Silicon Valley or Wall Street
constituting nexus of brain power,
where metaphysical thoughts proliferate
and ponder such basic thought
such as who art yours truly
what (I declare)
will constitute date with death
and where will corporeal flesh
and spirit separately journey?
Since time immemorial
millennium generations
happenstance bestowed *****sapiens
ability to become self aware
double edged figurative sword
allowing, enabling, providing...
forebears of yesteryear
to marvel at life, and
reckon with death,
which mixed blessing
wrestling with living and dying
also confronts man/womankind
during twenty first century
said inscrutable dilemma,
albeit reconciling mortality
linkedin with consciousness
heightened, tested, under_scored...
particularly at demise dearly departed
inadvertently affect
upon surviving family members
hijacking, offsetting, upending...
fracturing emotional composure
prompting immediate questions
regarding purposefulness living
nee, being born essentially to die
predestined to pass away
identical fate decreed upon
all animals and plants
bolstered by believing deity
foreordained every creature
past, present, and future,
yet most pronounceable afflicting
non denominational, non
religious, non sectarian
case in point Unitarian,
vis a vis visa versa secular humanists,
especially nonsensical poet wannabe
riddled with perplexity
about nature of being alive
wondering what explains
essence constituting individual fluke
finding meaning scuttling
across world wide web
hither and yon, to and fro
dumbfounded at futility
absolute zero adequate answers
(again, unless one subscribes
to codified doctrinal dogma
i.e. religion, faith, creed...)
I attest as garden variety primate
baffled, flummoxed, nonplussed...
CHRISTMAS EVE DILEMMA
Twas the night before Christmas and Santa was stressed.
He complained to his wife but she wasn’t impressed.
It’s going to rain dear, she called from the door.
Santa said ho ho ho, I’ve heard that joke before
No, tonight’s Christmas Eve; it’s my big night you know
And the forecast of course says it’s going to snow.
Now I have to set out rather early this time,
For the reindeer are two hundred years past their prime.
Poor old Comet can no longer shoot across space
And Vixen is slower, she just can’t keep pace.
Blitzen doesn’t light the sky, Dancer cannot dance.
While Prancer with arthritis, can no longer prance
Even poor Rudolph, bless him, has no shiny nose.
If you ever saw it, you wouldn’t say it glows.
So no longer able to pull a loaded sled,
They can retire and I’ll go electric instead
16th December 2022
The Night Before Christmas 3 poetry contest
Sponsor - Joseph May
Sometimes I don't know you,
Other times I don't know me,
Sometimes, you are just a stranger crossing the sky's limit,
Other times, you are my dearest brethren.
You don't look beyond the surface,
My perceived height is nothing but a miracle,
You only know the skin-deep conscience,
I think of you as a divine arcade.
I was so in my desired continent,
You were so in your purest delusion,
Now, where is your dream and my illusion?
Where do you belong in this scorched island?
I found you nowhere,
You reside in my flawless daydream,
Maybe you are just a honeycomb,
Perhaps you are nothing but a silkworm.
Once you have defined the beauty of a paradise,
I congratulate you on attaining your preferred location,
There is a lie in your desired destination,
I know your insight is nothing but a false combination.
He isn’t easy on the eyes and in fact
He rejects common pronouns of gender
So perhaps out of respect I’ll refer
To this beautiful soul as Earth Angel.
There is a lot of wisdom in Earth Angel’s words
It is as if God painted a plain black vessel
And allowed it to be filled with green grace
With every trial this soul’s heart is lifted
Unlike most who fall into the pity party
Earth Angel is accepting even thankful
For the opportunity to grow despite dilemma
Even when people and life are unkind
Earth Angel was abandoned at birth
And grew up in foster homes in the early sixties
A flower child at heart this soul is free spirited
Earth Angel believes in the third gender
Opening one’s heart to a suffering soul
Can be painful but humbling
Earth Angel never meets a stranger
Despite his childhood Earth Angel is cultured
So how can a brown cow
Eat green grass
And produce white milk
Earth Angel would jest
A hearty laugh always followed
No matter who or how it was answered
Earth Angel always laughed
As time moves on so does this soul
Never married and not sure it was a desire
Earth Angel left this world due to COVID
Final wishes to go to heavenly home were granted
To a former ward of the court but a beautiful soul
What is the vision;
Capitalism
Socialism is this bar and reprimanded
Truth is silenced
Political guidance
Rapture coming forth
Evil breeze on me
Centrifuge called and they lose
Breath and takes
Pandemic dilemma
War on humanity
No dire calamity
Science and politics don't mix
The reality is more the devil's tricks
Warren is not his tricks that contain us
it's our choices that defamed us
Listening to the wrong voice and choosing the wrong choice as they encapsulate us
What is the true vision what is the truth mandate
What is the purpose of this political mandate
Business circulate by being a hypocrite
When you don't participate
What gives you the right to complain and yet
Political dilemma
War on humanity
No dire sincerity
Politics and science won't mix
The truth is in the heavens
Just resist the devil
And he will flee
This is a spiritual
Not physical emergency
10/28/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
My beloved friend and esteemed professor,
is it so wrong to worship and admire
you with so warm and glowing a splendor,
which is unbounded with heartfelt desire?
Your silhouette is my Achilles's heel,
and your lips (what lips those are!) dare I kiss?
Your soft skin glows with a warmth that reveals
to me a sensuality that I miss;
I am undone! For you are my dilemma.
My need for you is embarrassingly clear!
Must I extinguish this overwhelming fire
which I have for you? For you are most dear.
Were I not just a student or your friend,
could we be more before this sonnet's end?
“If you don’t understand the purpose of a thing, then abuse is inevitable”
Many learners are going down the wrong road
There is a new song they are singing
All they need is a bottle of cough syrup mixed with soda
A dangerous cocktail is part of their arsenal
Learners during the week are telling tales of the crypt
They erupt with energy but are fatigued in the classroom!
The mixture of cough syrup and soda is alive and well
Taking soda (Jive) and cough syrup will make you unwell!
Learners think they have arrived to face their problems and
As a result, learners abuse over-the-counter cough syrup!
Learners enjoy the codeine
But in the end, they can never win
The sugar in the soda affects their brain and
So they train their body to be addicted to reaching a ‘high’
Because too many want to fly away from their problems
And enter a state of euphoria!
Many learners are going down the wrong road
There is a new song they are singing
All they need is a bottle of cough syrup mixed with soda
A dangerous cocktail is part of their arsenal
Learners during the week are telling tales of the crypt
They erupt with energy but are fatigued in the classroom!
Their brain shrinks and
One link to this dilemma is the mixture of Soda and Cough Syrup!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Old Jock had injured and bruised his man thing
His doc said "Jock, you'll need a tartan sling"
He's now looking quite built
Bulging under his kilt
Lassies swoon when he does the Highland fling.
After a week his thing turned black and blue
Jock said "hoots mon, what am I ganna do"
But he'd left it too late
Doc had to amputate
And now poor Jock has to sit on the loo.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
He washed his new jock, it was new
So it tightly embraced both its crew
But after the race
Oh what a disgrace
His now aching partners were blue
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
Jock stumbled and he landed face down
Injuring the jewel in his crown
His bruised pride and joy swelled
By awe it was beheld
Jock's tackle became talk of the town.
The doctor said I know just the thing
To give support to your ding-a-ling
Doc got Jock's bits strapped up
Jock swore and he cussed
For doc said it could be longstanding.
Jock's dilemma can be seen by all
He's going nuts because of the fall
He's craving free willy
To swing willy-nilly
And longs to unstrap his cannon ball.
WRITTEN BY BELLE BELLEVUE
Now Jock knew about liquid nitrogen
But sprayed on far more than he might have done
So just when it mattered
One tap and it shattered
And Jock said Hoots mon, me old fright’ner’s gone
He said Doc, I need a new caber
My wife has never gone through labour
The Doc held his gaze
Grabbed three treble A’s
And sewed on on a three foot light sabre
WRITTEN BY TERRY FLOOD
Jock managed to get his willy banged up,
He cried loud like a little newborn pup,
Stayed in bed a week,
It hurt to take a leak,
All because he slipped on his sippy cup
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
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Each of us has a talent or gift within us that must find an exit. That gift need not make one a star or set the world on fire, but it must exit. Until the thing that God put within us makes an exit to bless others, there will be no rest within.
More than ten years ago, a friend was going through a divorce. When I came to learn of the matter, I felt sorry inside. It was an emotion that I had never experienced in matters of marriage. It seems that I really took it to heart and felt like doing something about it. But what? His spouse's mind was made up. The matter was settled, and the die was all but cast.
I was awakened one morning with a poem in my head about my friend's dilemma. I started to write, and it was written with the heart and voice of my friend pleading with his wife for another chance.
I emailed the poem to my friend and after a few words of encouraging compliments, he asked permission to use it with his wife. I would love to be able to say that the poem changed the destiny of their marriage, but such is not the case. But it did change something within me.
From then on, I began to write continually. My poems and stories are inspired in a myriad of ways, but the above mentioned story stands at the top. It was the beginning of a most delightful journey in writing. It also spearheaded something within me to launch forward into a desire and longing that had been within me since I was very young. Imagine. 50+ years to exit.
9/2/17Contest, What Inspires You To Write Poetry, Rodeheaver,1p