Long Entire Poems
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"I have the best news," my bestie Mar said. She leaned close and whispered this magical, secret news into my right ear.
"WHEN?" I yelped.
"TODAY!" she exclaimed.
I clapped my hands and giggled with sheer delight.
"It's a secret," Mar cautioned me. "We are all in it, as a surprise for her cousin. Her cousin had been down in the dumps the entire time Onisha had been on Planet Earth (PE).
Yes, folks we angels could choose or not choose PE, it's a hard road to travel. PE is the ultimate learning planet, one of the most difficult learning planets to tackle. The goal of this planet is to learn life lessons about sadness, sorrow, death, and somehow take those lessons and create joy, peace and love. If you were allowed a crack at PE, you were a special, highly-intelligent, creative angel. Few were chosen.
Onisha's cousin, had no idea what we were all whispering about. Cousin had shut herself down twenty-three years ago after Onisha had announced her plans to tackle Planet Earth. The rumor is that cousin had stayed up all night, beg-whining, trying to talk Onisha out of it. Onisha had already selected her parents, and she was looking forward to the challenge, so she went in spite of cousin's misery.
From what we were hearing from the view towers, Onisha had made a high success of herself on PE. She was well-loved, well-thought of, tenacious, kind, respectful; one of the best souls Earth had ever seen.
At 2:18 Mar whispered this to me. "The faerie angels left a few minutes ago in the golden chariots to meet Onisha"
They were back by 2:29. We were all gathered on the tulip hill, even though it's supposed to be forbidden to wait like this. A cheer went up and kept up for several minutes as we watched Onisha jump out and run straight into the arms of her cousin!
Life on Heaven does not get much better than this.
See you soon!
Snapping beans, the summer pastime
Filling Mason jars
With cornfield or half runners
Filling a crock with layers
Of beans and corn, canning salt
For pickled beans and corn
That would make my mouth water
Peeling ripe red tomatoes
That I called maters
Cutting them in wedges
Placing them in Mason jars
Adding a touch of salt
Sealing the lids and cooking
In a liquid water bath
For enough time to be sure
Those maters were preserved
For the winter weather
Chili, soup or spaghetti
Dicing cucumbers
Mixing them with vinegar
And all the spices, garlic
Everything that makes the best
Pickles ever tasted
They seem such a blessing
When the snowflakes hover
Near the windows, dusting
The entire mountain
With reflections of the season
As the harvest hands over its treasures
Beans, corn, maters and so much more
The wise worker from the fields
Leaves the front porch each day
With scrapes of bean strings, peelings
And excess husks so the pigs
Will be as blessed as the rest of us
Granny showed me how to can
She gave me her instructions
With a hug and a grin
Hoping to remind me to always
Blend a bit of love
Into everything I preserved
From garden to porch
From porch to jar
From jar to dish
Where the love is mixed in
So that everyone who samples
A dish from my kitchen
Knows that I have given
My very best intentions!
It's fall and trees are turning brown,
they beat small and swirl in the air,
wavy, curly, crimson, blonde, bare.
Life's gold ring slightly free to drown,
around a bright world went dull gray,
in hope of having one more day.
She hears the song of a glazed crown,
as remembered echoes unfold,
the real story that isn't told.
leaves were blown on the entire ground,
I smiled and felt so blight alone,
Earth and sky fused by flesh and bone.
I expect all these shades could sound,
maybe stretch fall by a little,
I groove how it looks and whittles.
It's fall and trees are turning brown,
Life's gold ring slightly free to drown,
She hears the song of a glazed crown,
leaves were blown on the entire ground,
I hope all of these hues could sound.
Written: September 17, 2022
In Remembrance of Connie
Autumn Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Suzanne Delaney
Image of Carmel by the Sea by Pixabay.
Carmel by the Sea
Three-quarter distance to the city
the rose bowl parade's held,
paying a friend another visit
as if the golden gate is not
um, not after umpteen years.
she does a lot of shopping
touchy-feely, whatchamacallit
reveals the wherewithal that
we're still friends
an artisans treasure
trove, this cubby-hole of
Clint Eastwood's hideaway
from the city of the stars
to the city by the bay
an assortment of
artisan works sprawled out
crafted pieces tiny and
large all over the store
some chimerical or
a closer look or, white
elephants and then those
"I'll take it, how much!"
'twas, a closer look that
nabbed us of a Cedar Point
thingamajig, 'twas a metallic
tree attached to a rock
she picked the one on top
of this here tiered glass shelf
'tis the makeup of the store
with signs, "Do not touch and
do not hold, once you break
it, we mark it sold!"
while holding the metallic tree,
it separated from the rock,
which crashed through the top
tiered glass shelf center,
creating a v-shaped of the tiered
glass shelves beneath, causing
the entire display of all the metallic
trees and rocks crashing down
in front of her shoes as I stepped
back as an instantaneous response
that overwhelmed me.
a schoolmarm persona sorta
stood like posing for a photo
methinks she froze up, and while
standing bestilled, I cannot stop
myself from laughing, so I
paid the $400.
in 1980 prices, at least I didn't
walk home, 'twas years of a
point remembered till we parted,
and that occasioned me, the best
investment I ever made!
2022 January 18
*3rd Place*
Funny Memories
~~Natasha L Scragg: Judged 2022 January 28
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
The Broken Silence
In the middle of night where stars I see
Sprinkled over the mountains ,
And a moon reflected on the sea,
Within this beauty of silence ,
And the breeze of a cold wind
I stood on this excluded island
And came across a dead end,
With a high glassy wall ,
I tried to climb but I had a tremendous fall
And as I struggled over and over to go higher,
I became worn-out and completely tired,
No matter how hard I tussled ,
The result was still the same - I fell down,
So I looked around, no right nor left,
The wall is circled all around,
I had to find a way out,
But doors were just shutting down,
While this silence is running within my vein,
For my voice will no longer be heard again,
And my freedom will never be regained,
All alone I’m wondering,
Would I ever see the light?
Will I ever stand up and fight?
Will I ever break this wall?
Will I ever stand high and tall?
Will I ever come to realize
That life needs compromise?
This beauty of silence has a dark place,
Where only pain and agony are embraced,
Where only thoughts of cuts and suicide,
Fill my entire mind,
But I don't want to die for sure
So I will break this wall as I scream and roar
I will crack it up through its biggest gate,
Make my way out then face my fate
I will go - Live up to my style,
While walking around with the biggest smile,
I will fight and wrestle till I conquer all,
With love I must help and catch whoever falls,
I will call for peace and sheath my sword,
I will call for love and spread the word,
I will live my life regardless of all
As long as I’m good and pleasing my lord.
Form:
Everyday, I wake up wondering if the moon will shine or the stars will find a clear path to explore the other side of the universe. Every day, I wake up wondering if the sun will raise, and the moon will continue to walk by your side.
They sit up all night with an axe and a bible by their side and gun pointing to the east figuring out the next step to deceive the beast. A toxic feeling is going around and it makes me want to vomit on the ground.
Just as you think everything is going well, someone around the corner wants to drag you down in hell and suddenly the lights start growing dim and a strange energy surrounds the place. It built up an uncomfortable feeling in my chest and leaves me gasping for breath.
It circulates my entire body and it left me scrambling for an hour; if I had a better pair of shoe and enough money for the ride, I would walk out at this very moment without looking to the left or the right.
Every day I get up with a positive feelings, with new cells bursting in my anonymity and the forces of nature guiding me and the universe watching over me.
I am organized and ready to go but there is always something unpleasant to barge in the middle of the show, it is not a nice feelings it is painful and revealing and sometimes challenging .I have no control over what is happening around me some people are known for creating controversy and it leaves them hanging upside down in the pot.
See them sitting over there, fighting for that big dirty golden chair, the speechless ones, the quiet one, and big mouth one with voices thundering beneath the roof and big foot shaking the ground without a penny or a crown. You who are fighting for the chair will be left cold empty and bare, the sun will burn your behind and water will flood your cemetery until you do what is right.
It’s like you are waiting for that special song to sing but something
is always changing the rhythm and sometimes you don’t know whose song to sing, and the music keeps playing without a sound and it keeps dragging you towards the unknown.
I have had days like this when, I just feel like moving to another place to breath fresh air, to meet new people and write new music. Germany, France, Italy or Switzerland would be fun but I don’t know how to use a gun so I will stick to Asia because the journey is longer and it is safer.
"The Third Christmas"
IF I had thought about where to begin,
I wouldn’t have begun.
This is the story of us.
A family goes through the war zone occasionally,
intermittently, say every ten years or so
or possibly a minor tiff each year
over a Christmas re-gifting
or a prodigal unwanted
sits silently, mouth closed,
crowding the wanted
or an over zealous family member,
commencing with good cheer,
destroys a precious moment,
thanks giving becomes
an alcohol fuelled debate
an argument for living
all forget the forgiving
silent night becomes
kristallnacht
pathologically
fear replaces good cheer
Some families are an entire War.
Politically sewn and sold, egos bruised.
Years can be swallowed up
in strategic artillery campaigns
Who comes
Who goes
Quiet assassinations
Back seat driving
on the right way
Home
The Third Christmas
How to avoid being again.
Just so you know
you are not alone
Decorate the Heart with Snow
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/596k7K8l5JA
I had planned to weather the storm until the break of dawn and hibernate in my shell until the wicked is dead, but it kept lurking behind the door with manipulative words trembling on its lips and banging on the roof and shouting profanity in the street.
I curled tight into my shell and watch the night unfolds while destiny watches my spirit grow and the tiger waiting at the stream to derail my hard-earned dreams has frozen in the cold.
The night was dead silent and not a sound could be heard except for my breathing and my heart beating, I pinch myself to see if I was alive and I hit the side of the wall to find out if anyone was inside, but everything was flat, and the silence kept them composed.
I don’t know how long I could bear the agony and the isolation groaning in my belly, my adrenalin began to run high, and destiny began to thunder in the sky. I knew that something was about to happen as the vision began to widen.
I tried desperately to take my mind off it and focus on the energy flowing from the cliff, it engulfs the space around and lifts the tension that was blazing in my gut. This was too true to believe I felt light as the breeze and the cold air penetrate my clustered space. The night continues to bear its silent penalty and I tried to enjoy its luxury and my spirt became one with the night.
I stood in my shell and stare at the night enjoying its own company and all of a sudden, I felt an uncomfortable feeling moving in my belly and the sensation of the universe embraced me.
No one was there but I did not fear, I thought I heard a knock on the door and turn around to see what it was and in one split second, billows of smoke start spreading in the sky and the trees began to die.
Several explosions burst out on the ground, and it brought the entire city down. Night came alive and the multitude of people start running and screaming and buildings began to topple upon building and the choir in the distance began to sing. Fire blazed through the city and purified the street and at last the mission was complete.
Mankind has taken us to the extreme, but destiny has unfolded in my dreams and the new Jerusalem was born. The fire cooled down paradice make them wealthy and witty, and they finally got the discount.
My is such a beautiful word…it is usually complimentary…not demeaning
And when placed in front of other words…It changes their entire meaning.
My…when said in front of words like…my Dad, my Mom, my folks
has less to do with ownership and more with the feeling it evokes.
It’s amazing how this little word…the feelings it unfurls
when we say my wife, my daughter, my son…my little boy…my little girl.
To prove how my is a word those of us who use it all hold dear
Try to say my granddaughter, my grandson, my great-granddaughter
without a smile or a tear.
And as wonderful as it is to say…the wonder of hearing it never ends
when introduced as my Dad, my Nana, my PopPop, my uncle, my aunt…my friend.
Imagine what our world would be like…
how all animosities and hatred would end
If, even those we are not related to…
we treated as My Friend.