Long Disappointment Poems
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My confusion comes from too much doing. During the news
eating cheese and crackers, drinking wine, thinking the world
needs me.
Or the falling leaves, the days shorter but so much brighter.
How the cloud cover of the canopy has lifted to reveal
maybe God.
The longest continuous democracy may end in another theocracy.
A bunch of voodooists with their hocus pocus blessings
and understandings.
Bombs and poison. Grief. Chiseled, tearless face.
Chants gregorian. Her sad, clear, soulful missives from
the city.
Unbelievable acorn crop this year! Skate on them
like marbles. Last year was a maple year. The ash crop
significant, too.
But not the cherries. Or a single pear. Blackberries
held back too. Sure the towers were a violation, but they came to
hold community.
One stands not apart or alone but an individual within
his or her platoon. Committed to the mission and survival of
the platoon.
Fedex leaves a package. There is or is no anthrax
in it. It is our disappointment as Americans that the world cannot
be trusted.
Yes, New York is the enemy and brother of Kabul. How
does one reconcile those differing communities and be a non-
violent human?
With words. Wendell Berry's words. And service such as
the secretaries of state give, leaving when one's time and work
is done.
Staying in the diatonic. Agreeing first on rules of engagement.
Then engaging. Not stopping the fight or thought or song until the fight
is done.
The Fruit of Disappointment
In my garden there is a tree that I planted when it was new,
It was just a tiny sapling then and grew and grew and grew.
But on this tree, although very high, of fruit there were far too few
'Till an ancient gardener spoke to me and told me what to do.
He said, “Find a nest of the Scritch Scratch bird and take a twig or two
And make a posset of Dwindle Weed and a pot of Norridge stew.”
I found Dwindle Weed and a Norridge Plant for the recipe he knew
And with the gathered twigs around the tree a circle I then drew.
Into the circle, as the old man told, the mixture I then threw.
“Now,” he said, “You must wait a year and there'll be fruit for you.”
“Fifty pounds is all I need, then I'll return when the fruit is due.”
No fruit set upon that tree and for many years was overdue.
The ancient gardener did not return and so I thought, “I'll sue.”
But the gardener was never found, or the fifty pounds I blew.
Barry Stebbings
29/10/16
Sophie is wallowing in the despair of her furlough
it suits her; she enjoys pain, anguish and disappointment.
Her sister Henrietta tries to instill hope, but her attempts are thwarted.
Some people choose the land of depression over everything else.
Sophie is a professional at this; she has made a career out of it.
No one has had more car wrecks, accidents or mishaps at work.
It would be impossible to find someone more desperate to glean gloom.
Henrietta is a Pollyanna, a quintessential optimist., wasting her time.
The other sisters giggle about this behind her back, not realizing….
She is doing the work of the angels; what we should all be doing.
The universe is here to inspire, uplift and alleviate stress.
Can you imagine how terrific this world would be if we all inspired hope?
A moment...
Only a moment, lost
forever.
Love I knew, like angels soaring on diaphanous wings through gently weeping clouds,
then searing hate filled burning anger,
my soul set afire with scorching embers and blue flames,
the pain melting my body into puddles filled by dripping sorrow and blocks of icy resentment.
This I felt,
in that... moment,
I died inside.
The feeling of a thousand millipedes crawling over my skin made it tingle. My legs like pudding dangled from my numbed body as if they were made of dough. I had to sit before I fell.
My strong heart beating for you
stopped...
for a moment.
Like Kodachrome images tattooed in vivid color on bas-relief sculptures in my memory,
I could taste the bitter sadness and disappointment in your eyes
the moment...
you
left.
10/29/15
I missed you
you came back
then bowed out again
life's crazy times
cutting in like sin
And so I will sing to you
the only thing I know
to reach out
to comfort
just so you know
I don't blame you
I know you are dealing
with life's blows
and I am still here...
I always care
It's the way I am built
so don't blame me
Love does not pick up and go
with disappointment
even should we end
I won't be disjointed
I will just look back
wistfully knowing
we are so much more
and you need to know
I won't regret it
I view you still with joy
You are the one and only you
the one and only
and it was just not our day today
never know about tomorrow
If you step back up
Feel your mojo
don't feel the need
to run your life solo
I am here for you
dear to me
I get being laid out
by lifes bugaboos
You don't need to wait
no need to hesitate
don't be afraid
not even explain
Let's just take up
and get to the fun
spend some time
love again
like there's no tomorrow
It's always our time
It's the way I am built
so don't blame me
Love does not pick up and go
with disappointment
even should we end
I won't be disjointed
I will just look back
wistfully knowing
we are so much more
You need to know
I don't regret it
I view you always with joy
You are the one and only you
the one and only
and it was just not our day today
never know about tomorrow
tomorrow
I am still here
tomorrow...
I am still here
tomorrow.....
I am still here
Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep among the Shepherd’s flock.
Lead me my Pharisees, I wish to see feel the glee in following
the Lamb within me.
The weight of my new necklace, crudely crafted of twine and timber,
swayed in a schism'd rhythm between my shins
bruises born from my steadfast faith. For I have never fasted
Before, all there was in my Ziploc bag was a single raw egg,
Two slices of wonderbread, three matches with no book.
I heard fireflies bounce in the air between my ears,
I could not see, you see I was blindfolded, but I felt no fear.
The marching sounds stopped, balsam trees surrounded me
and the rest of the chosen tribe.
Night befell the evening, the stars jumped and danced for me
For the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, His strength
flowed like the river Jordan in my veins. I had no chains.
Never had I felt grace like this before.
We awoke with gnats in our nose, centipedes between our toes
We arose, and our trials we must undergo.
Silence is the sound of our worship, broken by the
wood bashing between our bitten legs.
The kindling was wet, the bread was stale,
forging for food in the raspberry bushes, hunger flashed
in front of my eager eyes.
Memorize second Corinthians, some stories
I no longer care to remember. I felt the splinters
in my shins, the twine singed the hairs of my neck.
The breeze swung between the leaves and sung chants
that worshiped the King amongst kings.
The counselor crept out of the brush, and with
immense embarrassment I flushed
any of the chances of becoming one of the chosen few.
I could not immerse myself within the verses.
His eyes struck disappointment deep into my gut,
his knife drawn I knew I was cut.
The log crashed to the ground like lightning, the
twine left my skin red and raw. It felt like the
sting of a thousand roses thrust upon my nape.
My cross was no longer mine to bear, it was the end
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I descended from the shining hill, back to
the cabins and basketball nets. I had failed.
There is a creek I will never wade, never cross,
I drowned in my disdain, my faith may be lost.
Another camper, another kid, lost in the flock
of the Shepherd’s failed kin.
Chicago’s skyline would never disappoint
non-hysterical people in their right mind
but I am useless, so I stare out into her point
feeling like a crushed bug, the last of my kind
my feelings are my own, I keep them well hidden
others on this metro train are phone-staring
sharing emotions with strangers is Chicago-forbidden
my small- town parts are way beyond actually caring
I stare into the night, wondering where this train is taking me
my disappointment is acute, well-known to me once again
If this was not just a Great Lakes, I’d drowned myself in this sea
on this metro train of strangers, I let my sadness begin
How Celebratory
by Odin Roark
To know romance is borne
Of definitions unknown,
Of vibrations beyond sentient grasp
Where resides imagination sans ownership,
Is to know the illusive magic.
For where else would such intuit dwell,
If not in the discovered world
Of the undiscovered,
Accessible to only those of courage,
Those unafraid of illusion’s magic
Of disappointment,
Where a fractured heart,
Made open and vulnerable
By willingness to suffer,
Finds solace in anticipation.
Experience shadows
Tomorrow’s longing,
Yesterday’s regrets,
And somewhere within,
Where past,
Present,
And future,
Are of no consequence,
Rests life’s intimate reward,
The essence of amour.
That longing
Found void so often,
Only to be resurrected
When one’s time is again ready,
Awaits the moment.
Thrown arms in the air,
Smiles of rainbow and sunset glory,
Know so well,
Like tomorrow’s sunrise,
That the true embrace
Of enigma’s prized possession
Will appear
Again
And
Again.
Dream
Such vast auras of who you are
Are floating everywhere—
Precious fragments of life’s romance.
How celebratory.
I spent most of my life believing
That love was a needless emotion
It was only hurt and disappointment
Guiding me to believe in this notion
Then something changed when I met you
This feeling like none I've ever known
Maybe it was the passion in your eyes
Or the tenderness that your heart shown
Each day with you was proof to me
Love is what my heart did feel
And love was anything but needless
It was something meaningful and surreal
Now I never want a day to pass
That will leave you with any doubt
Of how much your love means to me
Or what my love for you is about
This passion and love inside me
Continues to grow stronger by the day
Making me want to prove my love
And I will somehow someway
Know that at times I will struggle
Love is something new for me
But what we have between us
Is made to last for an eternity
yes i
I have been on a walk
a long walk
this walk worked out
a lot passion
with in my heart
so I bleed with
scorns of messages
called poetry so
yes I
yes I
yes I
keep writing
till the end of time
yes I
come talk a walk
with me
don't worry about
the distance
we are on same
shoes if you
realise
we are both trapped
in a world of lies
so when you bleeds
in side your soul
what was your first
motive
cos with our disappointment
you could have been
on your realities
were happiness is
the out come of
all the sacrifice
we give in pain
so now you feel
why I bleed
to this writes
called poetry
yes I
yes I
yes I
keep writing
till the end of time
yes i
am a young soul
trapped in a world
of illusion
were adult go wild
in calamities
while the young
watch in confusion
yet no one cares
so now I keep walking
the journey still far
as justice is on exile
while humanity is
scarce more every new day
now we are just shadows
in clothes of suffering flesh
our reality has turn sow
despite our believes
we still got a long journey
a journey too wild
in this journey
yes I
yes I
yes I
keep writing
till the end of time
yes I
yes I
yes I am not perfect
yes I
yes I am a prisoners
in of my thought
cos the world lack
so many obvious truth
yes I
yes I chose to be human
yes I
yes I am not in the reality
of justice
yes I
yes I must be alive
while I live
yes I
yes I can write
my songs
and now is called
poetry!