Long Eschewing Poems
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Eschewing the catastrophic world
towards a tranquil place, I headed;
The heavenly aroma spread around
transported my soul into a place astound
A place where the music was born
A place where dawn chorus begins
A place where the earth is adorned
A place where tranquillity just exists
A place where the purity still persists
A place where negativity resists to step in
The still water reflecting the moon round
Kindled the pleasing memories abound
Hues of cherubic green everywhere
I heard the whispers of Angels in the air
An angel sang lullaby
An angel turned into a damselfly
An angel narrated stories to the babies
An angel noted down the dandelion wishes
A cupid was busy uniting the bride and groom
Another one was playing under the mushroom
Haven't been to a place like this before
Never ever tried to open a mystical mind door
Glad I did it now at least
For my soul witnessed an idyllic place at last
30- March - 2024
The Slide Ruler
As regulations rule this world from outside in and my time slowly
seeps away on this planet’s realm I gaze in awe at that once modern
instrument of calculation that dangles from the ceiling lamp in my
~ Study ~
In forward looking nostalgia my memories ambivalent a reminder of
words scripted on paper in fountain pen and blotting paper absorbing
the logic never understood derived from square rooted calculus’s incisive
~ Precision ~
I failed the examination maybe my hands were too clumsy or my mind
too entangled in quests of a different kind of looming poet trees
in onward advances flooding naive crafting knitting dreams and emotional
~ Liberation ~
I tried to run away and on track right by the start of a marathon
real and timed in a fast moving obsession I discovered my ruler sliding
into my fingers for a Euro in red plastic casing with figures organizing
~ Incomprehension ~
Metaphorical and analogue to a desire to escape from the dogma of science
eschewing the unquestioned paradigm of only one truth and one answer
only as well as the modern compulsion with bits and apps it reminds me of
~ Signposts ~
Trivial directives which lead me away and beyond of what can be counted
calculated in the hamster wheeling rat race of pretending to know
exactly what is an illusion in any case plastic or iron cased in
~ Rationalization ~
Nevertheless and because of what I could not understand with a
slide ruler and the pretence of computer colonized minds around me
I cherish not simply for all time’s sake that comprehension results from
~ Fragmentation ~
And thus found the whole kit and caboodle the complementation of
polarity synthesized opposites complemented diversity celebrated in the
festival of life and the living with brick a brack completing the meaning of
~ Life ~
24th October 2016
Old Jewelry Or Just Old Things Contest
Godly Counsel
Written: by Miracle Man
3-22-2020
I never seek the counsel of an unbeliever,
for this sort of advice could become my undoing.
I base no decision on words of a deceiver,
but adhere to God’s word by continued eschewing.
I prefer to let the Holy Spirit take the lead,
Following God's spirit, what can possibly go wrong.
why listen to advice that I'm reluctant to heed,
or because it echoes from an unbelieving throng.
Psalm 1 (KJV)
1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
To whom does the Jade Emperor,
The Sovereign of the Heavens above,
Bequeath the crown for all the lands,
Under divine clouds and starry skies?
Is it the mighty, scholarly or wealthy?
Is it a man of ancient and royal blood?
Or is it the favored son, a great orator,
Most proud, persuasive and popular?
The truth is: They have no right to rule!
The Mandate of Heaven is bestowed
Solely to those who have cast clean
Their hearts of all avarice, lust and wrath!
For in sagely Confucius’ Great Learning:
All those who wish to uphold the world
Must first be true and order their households,
And those who seek to be true must be pure!
For by eschewing vice and embracing virtue,
Comes a tranquility of heart that allows
One’s erudite inner wisdom to shine bright,
Leading to profound foresight and sincerity!
Only such a person is worthy of authority,
And can banish all woe and bring weal
To all above the earth and under the sky,
Yielding mirth for the minds of many!
All rights released into Public Domain
A cart selling hot dogs and such
Was suddenly sharp to the touch
Because thousands of bees,
Eschewing Chinese,
Thought a frank they would like very much.
They swarmed to the top of the stand
So a cop, likely one in command,
Ordered all off the street
So the bees could retreat
But that’s not what the stingers had planned.
Thus an officer, bee-suit attired,
Soon appeared with the tool he required
And his vacuum did suck
All the bees it could pluck
With finesse that onlookers admired.
New Yorkers find stuff like this funny
And likely would bet even money
That soon that same cart,
If its owner is smart,
Would be selling you hot dogs with honey!
Thee Mister Re: Spouse...
In summer re: aye cannot whet till
this husbandry season will become
fallow - mare riddle status no longer
honeymoon bridal stage covenant,
nuttin boot lame game of worm aye
go win round robin, since empty nest
syndrome grounded, nee pulverized
papa's purposefulness eschewing
attending, babying, pampering...
dependent wife, she relies on yours truly
for emotional, financial, grammatical
succor unwittingly spearheading self
driven sequestration deep within invisible
hermetically sealed catacombs resigning
remaining decades as recluse getting
linkedin with anchoress named Miss Ann
Thrope, a humble herbalist sustaining
ourselves foraging ample edible native
plants prepared within subterranean hearth
bubbling cauldron issuing delectable aromas
aural accompaniment evoke structures of
silence, neither me nor t'other cohabitant
violating unspoken transgressions nomad
dear ain't no authoritarian entity dispensing,
donning, trumpeting commands, nonetheless
each of us experiences far greater safety,
versus bajillion manned armed force on outlook
for good n plenti interlopers, how heavenly
this rudimentary Shangri la devoid of madding
crowds, no cumbersome technological trappings
daylight natural firelight to scratch out musings
pure unbridled satisfaction emanating reading
and listening in turn as envisioned, imagined,
and lionized hushed murmurs signaling
enjoyment (mimicked courtesy aural exhalation)
as Gaia appeased wafting warm breeze
across each our respective brows, this hermit
ensconced within his kingdom aware figment of
his fancy crafted idyllic refuge empowered by
meditation evoking compatible soul mate merely
generated by auto suggestion illusory
manifestation a lifelike dream.
may be astounding
often gets the heart pounding
this life which we lead
spiraling onward
in expanding cosmic sea
the planet and we
we carry the backbones
our genes allow to be grown
free standing not prone
eschewing timeworn
helping concepts to be born
egos we adorn
rehashing the past
brings relief which does not last
anger rises too fast
beyond good reason
some humans hope to squeeze in
a full afterlife
searching for a role
wanting not half but the whole
how fragile this soul
life but one small blip
upon eternity's tip
a truly short trip
no one avoids death
everyone takes one last breath
reference Macbeth
and yet in the end
while there is still time to spend
this life pleases me
January’s snow flows stealthfully through my fifth-floor apartment window, flung wide open to welcome in the new year. The half-drawn curtains bellow with brisk salt air blowing in from the North Sea. A distant foghorn groans in a resigned, forlorn resonance, guiding ships braving the churning, ice-slushy waters as church bells strike twelve stately brassy tones.
This night I stand alone and content, a rich cup of espresso in my hand. Eschewing nostalgia and perhaps too sober of thought, I prefer my pleasures to be of the vicarious variety. Beneath me I take in the muted ambers and oranges spread out from the four cafes, out past the cobblestone road, glistening as snowflakes alite. Young couples drinking, glasses clinking, hug, kiss and revel, strolling out from the cafes. Some indulge in a traditional waltz, before the speaker blares more modern fare. Waves of laughter and singing ebb and flow as I turn and head toward my bed and blessed sleep.
Again the foghorn blares mournfully, like a tuba vainly pleading to be united with a long-lost orchestra.
I will sing to you in Russian
Recite to you in Greek
Converse in any language
That you deign to speak
I will follow you through Hades
Protect you from its fire
Look at you adoringly
Object of my desire
I will save your seat
While you enjoy the dance’
Protect you with my shield
Defend you with my lance
I will walk on hot coals
If it brings you delight
Wrap you in my cloak
To warm you in the night
Willingly and freely
I pledge to do all this
For the merest brush
Of your lips in a kiss
I will conquer mountains
Eschewing any fame
Each and every act dedicated
To the glory of your name
So come and sit beside me
Let me feast my eyes
Entrance you with my wit
Seduce you with my sighs
All this I do for the great joy
And the precious right
To escort your person safely
To your home tonight
I think in rhyming couplets
As I anticipate
The gentle goodnight kiss
As I leave you at your gate
And hope, like me,
You yearn
And dream
Of my swift return