Long Entrance Poems
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Young Raymond worked the bakery
was up 'bout ten to three.
Just eighteen, still in high school he
had dreams of flying free.
He worked as hard as most grown men
then walked to school and slept.
Took all his wages home to Mom
who thanked him as she wept.
His forte's were science and math
in those he could engage.
Yet beneath all his knowledge was
a silent, anxious rage.
He dreamed, "I'll be an astronaut,"
but worked the fierce hot stoves.
"Impossible to soar," he'd think
while baking bread in loaves.
Young Raymond lost his childhood by
the time he reached sixteen.
Quiet brilliant in mathematics he
soon knew bread as his dean.
Scattered among the loaves of bread,
the flour, water, yeast,
he lost that precious dream-hope and
became an aged beast.
One fine May day in Physics class
with windows opened wide,
most students lolling at their desk,
our Raymond jumped and died.
His skull was broken on the sidewalk
entrance to our school.
Striding across the room's wood floor
he dove into a pool
of warm spring air as he took flight
toward impending death.
We gasped and ran toward the bay
while holding back our breath.
Some of us thought he'd stand upright
until we saw the blood.
Our teacher pressed the intercom
he'd shuddered at the thud.
Somewhere inside that bright young mind
with dreams of soaring high,
the walls of Raymond's world caved in
and left him asking why?
Not old enough to be a man
yet lost to days of youth,
his brilliant mind found no escape
he couldn't cipher truth.
Epilogue
While deputies worked at the scene
we all departed school.
With camera, tape, and clipboard they
applied fact-finding tools.
Yet none could reason why he jumped
and in May chose to die.
His teacher and the Sheriff would
return to find out why.
A physics book lay on his desk
a paper on the leaves.
Mathematically he'd worked it out,
two grown men were bereaved.
He knew the precise distance from
the window to the walk.
His pen the feet per second for
his keen mind to meet shock.
He'd chosen one three story flight
over stacks and rowd of bread,
abandoning the ovens that
had given him deep dread.
I think of him on fine May days
rich with ambrosial air.
I hope that Raymond soars the skies
and sees his world as fair.
Losing Raymond
All of a sudden I miss a step
And then you excuse me the lack of continuity
He dragged me here, taking me by my hair and then asked me to leave some space in me to handle all of his dirt.
To exchange.
I could be stronger getting fat in my tower.
I could be stronger but then I recognize there's no need.
'We found love in a hopeless place' but then again it was all about deserts when we were somewhere else.
- - -
They told me you were standing over his dead body
But now you're unlocking my valves
They told me you were standing over his dead body
But now you're making my rivers flow
Some of it is yours
And some of it is mine
The guilt in between us is circling around
Sometimes it's all yours
Some of it remains mine
I put myself in your hands
Staining you with my glitter
But then I remind myself to go back home
There was a break in me
That's left me hopeful
I was flowing in your hands
And now I'm lying on a cloud
With our rights in my pocket
Gods were eager to give me answers
But there was little left of me
He took my grounds where I used to flower
But then you came and I let you in
That's just all that he's left for me in his will
He'd sworn he wouldn't let me out alive
- - -
Are you a satanist miss? What? I'm a little snake between your sheets, I'm a ladybird sitting on a leaf, I talk to you about ways I die, my puppy and cooking, I get weirder day by day, there was a connection and then I jumped on it with all my weight. I'm here because I'm a girl with daddy issues and it's my entrance pass. He took pins and pushed me to the ground. We do things for grown ups and oh my God, you're so young but I forget to blush so I guess it's all good. People made me feel guilty for growing up, are they doing the same to you?
I place myself in the queue then I grow weary and even my body is reluctant to stay.
I wash my hair every day and you start accepting my existence as a part of your reality. All my breathing cells. All my syntheses, my mitochondria as I can't accept how they react to you so I leave them and you alone.
It was mine but then they started eating it by piece by piece and the fear's crippled me. I was expecting a breakdown. I've had of enough apples to look this young and now I'm made of candy. They told me you kill people, well, I'm a girl who's forgotten to die.
The most awaited result got publicized, but
Internet hadn't landed the soil of my country.
Televisions were tabled in few pocketed places,
Still they worked, minute and achromatic.
With huge audience circling, signal was word alien,
Viewers would holler in unison, "It's raining!"
I now understand the fluctuation of signal,
We'd leave the jammed hall. No rain outside!
Correspondences saw only lethargic typewriters,
That sounded a poll pecking of a woodpecker.
A single wireless station would be queued
With people waiting for, "Pom, pom, Tango, Charlie."
Communication gravely sought its transmission,
Three-band radio justified on its little way,
Only richer lots bought and owned pompously
And my country had a single frequency squeezed.
The announcement was radioed in a succinct brief-
"The result of 1997 ICSE examination is out."
Nothing more or less, of the India-based examination,
I jumped on my toes only to later feel crushed.
My kiths were dejected with my abortive result,
An unofficial hearsay, they caught hold onto
Their dejection pierced my heart, agonizingly.
I'd to visit my alma mater, result matted least.
A two-day-long journey, not by a luxurious car
But on the hood of a truck on a bumpy roads,
Only the Indian highway would ease the journey
Like relieving the physical pangs of exhaustion.
The mental turmoil intensified as I neared
My school where the sheets would be displayed,
The wall would announce to a hundred lot of us,
The failure provoked sleepless nights and journeys.
My heart thudded as I entered the school premise,
Lips dried, even a pool of water wouldn't wet them.
Shivering, perplexity and numbness, crippled me,
I just wanted me alone to declare the performance.
I walked up the staircase with thundering emotion,
The entrance seemed gloomily unwelcoming,
Saw I a crowd of my mates craning and giraffing,
On the either sides of the entrance, sheets full.
No greetings, no handshaking, I just shied away,
Waited for the crowd to go thinly populated.
Just in one particular column to refer, wanted I,
PCA or PCNA - biggest summary of a year's toiling.
My comrades filed out slowly, forward I lunged,
Searching my name, throbbing took its tempo.
Spotted the name, from the wall, PCA grinned,
Pass Certificate Awarded, I became triumphant!
©?Khachab Dorji
Let’s sail away to Acapella,
A celebrity haunt owned by Penn and Teller.
I shall act as your prince, you’ll be Cinderella
When we’re sat on a beach in Acapella.
It’s not as sexy as Cannes or as dowdy as Rhyl
But their choirs and ensembles will give you a thrill,
Acapella compares well to old Casablanca,
As you will observe once we have dropped anchor.
Their libraries don’t hold any musical score,
Acoustic folk singers are considered a bore,
All keyboards and trombones were sold overseas
And whistles restricted to football referees.
So you won’t hear the bagpipes of Kenneth McKellar
Or repetitive bass notes plucked by Paul Weller.
Your voice will entrance all the ladies and fellas
Once we’ve moored in the harbour of Acapella’s.
There fishermen bring ashore haddock and bream
Having sung shanties as a well-rehearsed team,
The salty sea breeze gives their voices a rasp
And the youngest amongst them let out a gasp!
Melodic and manly, the crews ride the waves,
Proud of their seamanship, masters not slaves,
They heed the advice of their mothers and aunties
But rarely acknowledge the source of their shanties.
Once a solitary busker was found in a yacht
And by all accounts he deserved what he got,
He was forced down the plank at the tip of a sword
Then his vintage viola was flung overboard!
On the pier you’ll find orators and callers at bingo,
But no jukebox is pumping out John, Paul or Ringo.
Pop or rock music gives locals the creeps,
It’s no wonder that George’s guitar gently weeps.
So, if Customs Control takes your squeezebox or trumpet
Don’t seek compensation, you’ll just have to lump it;
Those instruments go to a processing plant
Because singers are welcome but musicians aren’t.
We shall seek out the nightlife in numerous bars
Where the locals all sing without playing guitars,
Dodge the Lambrettas in quaint cobbled alleys,
Then stride across hills and along peaceful valleys.
So, if you’re tired of concertos or singles by Queen
Book a cruise to a place where they’re considered obscene,
It’s a magical island owned by Penn and by Teller -
The remote principality of Acapella.
So let us sail forth across the briny
In a luxury yacht - well furnished and shiny
To where your vocal range will be valued quite highly,
And you won’t have to sit through Baba O’Riley.
Foundation.
If you could escape this world, would you take that risk?
Escapism
As if cursed by the son of perdition
As I go about my new life's mission to gain admission to her realm
With Aphrodite's dead ringer who whispers songs of exquisite rendition
Praying a lone arrow from Eros bow will strike, drawing gasps from the angels watching
High in the midnight sky
As I breathe in her sweet aroma and passion filled scent, like pure oxygen
And feel regal like a king
Like King Solomon
As her aura captures my soul like a moth is attracted to a flame
So now all dark nights appear so long and so black
As the shadow people slowly advance
Whispering my name
For they know I have been changed by someone so radical.
As I entered the Fifth Dimension one strange night
Looking to finding a love so sacred and magical
But that's the magic of searching for the fantastical
For as sure as winds seduce trees by subtle caresses
As the world wakes each year in a new spring and fresh life begins
I write this before I go to the Hidden Forest
Where the White Ash stands
Where green ivy hides the entrance to her lair, and other slaves play music, while chained to metal stands
With the smell of incense on patrol in the electricity filled air
Ready to invade lungs and take control
It's ten to two in the morning and I have to appear at four
So if I don't come back, I leave this for you to know I'm fine
Keep the house
Car and money
For I'm going to a new place where fear no longer exists
A place I hope welcomes me in
Just pray for me that I don't
lose my soul and become just another flesh slave
Chained up playing music in her band
A prisoner trapped forever in her cave
As she sits or stands
On her golden throne singing with her crimson red lips
You're now mine
Now get in line
Your time will come play
For now, you're caught
And can no longer run away
For you're now just another one of my familiars
One in a trillion
No longer a civilian
All this I know for a German called Schiller
Told me over the internet
Told me to come over
Told me I'd be a member of a wolf pack serving a queen in The Great In-Between
So here I am
Pray for me
Ma ***
Forever yours
Your son
Jimmie 0
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
February 22 Relationship to God Bible Meditations
Based on Deuteronomy 20-24
Key Verse – Deuteronomy 20:1 When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies, and seest horses, and chariots, and a people more than thou, be not afraid of them: for the LORD thy God is with thee, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY BATTLE CONQUEROR
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
taking my soul to Your saving deliverance
Thank You for besieging me from worldly spoil’s alluring appearance
I then fix my sight to Your inheritance along heavenly entrance
In carrying-out Your commandment, subdued of my arrogance.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
training my will by Your sin-slaying might
Thank You for building me up against pride’s downfall and blight
I then find my strength in Your blood-redeeming power for victorious flight
In calming myself to prevail over guilt’s fright and frustration’s height.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
terrifying my enemies greatly
Thank You for bracing me up to march on righteously
I then follow Your leading perseveringly
In coming nigh to Your throne so I can share Your peace bravely.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
turning my heart from stubbornness
Thank You for barring me from disobedience and rebelliousness
I then fear You reverentially with total submissiveness
In committing my life to Your blessed joyfulness.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
teaching my spirit to trust Your wisdom
Thank You for boosting me against vain quest for earthly stardom
I then fall into Your forgiveness, humbled in seeking first Your kingdom
In calling upon You while discovering Your bliss-filled freedom.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
trying my conviction against materialistic prosperity
Thank You for burdening me with prayer quests to seeking You with sincerity
I then fence my mind around Your truth’s security
In combatting oppressive discontentment midst grievous futility.
Lord God, You are my battle Conqueror,
triumphing toward my divine cheerful excitement
Thank You for blessing me in my stewardship’s engagement
I then feast in Your presence with Your grace-endowment
In cleaving to You always by Your Word’s assuring bestowment.
February 22, 2023
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
You're walking out the front entrance
Leaving work behind you
Forgetting the hustle of the day
Looking forward to a quite drink
Chilling out
In your
Soft
Comfy
Favourite
Chair
Staring into an open fire
Being carried away with the beat of the music
When all of a sudden
You're startled
By the thundering crackling
Sound from the exhaust
Of a oversized shinny motor bike
A leather cladded rider dismounts
Blocking your path
As you stand stunned & glued to the spot
The rider comes up to your face
Through a tinted visor on a black helmet
You hear a soft gentle familiar voice saying
Put this on and let's go
All your fears flash in front of you
But your censors say your safe
You allow this gentle giant
To carefully place the open face helmet over your head
Slowly secure it under your chin
Hands you some wrap around sun glasses
Without a word
The rider shows you how to
Comfortably mount a bike
Indicates you to wait until he is on
Gives you the nod
As you mount the bike
Cuddle into the rider
looking over his right shoulder
Smelling & feeling the leather on your bare skin
As you clasp your hands together
Around the stomach of the rider
The bike starts
Startled by the noise you jump
And thrusted back as we take off
Slowly through the main street
Slow down even more for the school zone
Swerving
Swaying
Dodging
In and out
Of the afternoon traffic
Leaving the bottle neck behind
With the confusion and worry
Hitting the open road
Winding the throttle wide open
The purring of the pipes
Echoing off on coming cars
The thumping of the motor
Rising up through the seat
The wind caressing your face
As we brake hard and throw
The bike down into a left hand lean
Around the corner in one motion
Pick the bike up and throw down
Into a right hand corner
Dancing
Up
Down
And around
Up the hill onto the flat
Surrounded trees
The afternoon sun strobing through the trees
Behind the trees
In the paddocks
Prancing
Dancing
Meres and foals
Back into town
Where I stop at your place
I dismount
Extend my hand to help you off
Lovingly remove your helmet
Tie it on the sissy bar
Jump on the bike
With a crack from the pipes
The engine roars
Burning the tar with my back tyre
Leaving you standing in the cutter
Dumbfounded
Bewildered
Tingling
Laughing and smiling
Where would I live if I were richest, and had all the money in the world?
Outside the square box, where no doors exist, and locks will never block
My entrance or exit, without four walls or framed bricked structure this
Is where I’d live and do now!
Again I’m asked where this address is, what fancy abode or country,
This location the French Rivera, or maybe even the city of romance Paris?
Nope none of these places will do for the likes of me, my substance
Is worth more than glitz’s and glamour allow, after all am I not
The richest person in the world?
I live within the valley of the thunder storms heartbeat, where flesh
And bone melt together as one unit, here passions lightning collide
Against the rocky torrent of desires epic flame,
Never to be extinguished or dowsed, by emotions ocean of doubt
Or regret!
But again these outsiders ask me once more but where, we’d like
To know, for we’ve never heard of such a place, give us the answer
To this riddle of yours Madame, for you are the richest person on
Earth the world must have the answer, as the paparazzi flash
Their gossiping, chattering, Cameras!
But these hungry mongers will never know the truth of the matter
At hand, for they’ve never experienced truth wealth of feeling,
Or valued anything but the almighty dollars golden card, of worthlessness!
Oh what an empty world, do these poor souls exist upon, a baron plain of
Dancing dollar signs, where false illusions seem real or tangible to the
Touch, but in reality are delusions images melting away, as time fades
The fame to the beauty factor unto nothing remains at all!
Nay I’m here in reality’s penthouse on high, beyond the fake staining of the
Smoke and mirrors game being played below, in this devotional residence
Without numbers!
For again the question was and is where would I live, if I had all the money
In the world, I’d live within the heart of this man whom dwells beside me,
He who’s sacrificed all for me, loved me always through thick and thin,
My shoulder of endurance and tenderness!
For what is true wealth my friend, but love itself my world begins
As his eyes open in the morning light, and ends when his close at night’s
Final twilight hour, where do I live within this man whom loves me!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
NOVEMBER 11, 2015
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY OF 55 THOMAS
God invites everyone to go to heaven!
Such is His desire, design and delight
along with His offered compassion
marked with grace, mercy, peace and forgiveness
packed in His gift of eternal life.
The Bible declares in John 3:16:
"For God so loved the world,
that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life."
God welcomes each one to His heavenly abode!
This is made possible by faith in the Saviour Jesus Christ
Who paid the price for such entrance
through His precious sacrifice: His death on the cross.
According to the Scriptures which I fully believe
“To be absent from the body
is to be present with the Lord…”*
The soul enters heaven after earthly breath ceases
separating from the mortal body
to dwell with God in heaven forever.
Since faith in the Saviour matters most
I then must put my trust in Jesus Christ
“The way, the truth, the life…
fully relying on His assertion that
“No man cometh unto the Father, but by me…”**
Having known that God by His love
already opened heaven’s doors to sinners like me
I did never miss the opportunity
of accepting His gift of eternal life***
for life everlasting means heavenly citizenship.
Now, I’m assured of secured fellowship with the Almighty
as my blessed soul is ready to enter heaven
when He calls me to live in the mansion
the Saviour prepared there in His Father’s house****
for all those who believe in Him.
That is what I testify triumphantly
through Gospel declaration of hopeful bliss
toward freedom from transgression-bondage
‘til eternity in heaven, even beyond forever.
*2Corinthians 5:8 We are confident,… and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.
**John 14:6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
***Romans 6:23 … The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
**** John 14: 1-2 Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if [it were] not [so], I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.
February 3, 2023
2nd place, "How Does The Soul Enter Heaven?" Poem Writing Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 2/4/2023.