Long Experienced Poems
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Ever since mine boyhood
I experienced abhorrence
toward yours truly,
an extremely introverted kid,
whose parents nor siblings
(one younger and older sister) could
not arouse him out of his emotional torpor
akin being on par with
Peter Peter pumpkin eater...
whereby he (meaning
author who wrote this poem)
kept himself isolated, quarantined, and xed out
within self made shell.
Me mum mollycoddled her only son
bathed him in maternal love
omnipotent motherliness
figuratively guillotined
(unwittingly) healthy maturation,
thus development sabotaged
courtesy figurative apron strings.
No matter his filial relationship woeful
(to thee woman who birthed him),
he registered sentimental value
regarding keepsakes bequeathed,
he still keeps cherished mementoes
redolent when she lived.
Call him a mama's happy go lucky boy
whose later ambivalent feelings
tarnished, undermined and vitiated
short lived tender loving care,
which brief vouchsafed cocooned wellbeing
regarding idyllic rapport between parents,
got staind, suppurated, sundered, sullied...
in later years by incrimination
against being gainfully unemployed.
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight
marked a tectonic seismic shift as moving vans
transported our household freight
to (at that time) R(ural) D(elivery) 2,
Level Road Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426,
a ramshackle (summer) mansion named Glen Elm
plus whittled down fraction
of original Hundred Acre plus wood.
Relocation with Lower Providence School District,
approximately half dozen mile distance
between former and latter home(s),
nevertheless psyche of mine
property of extremely introverted kid
severely hi-jacked.
This Life
Who would I be
if I didn't believe in my Christianity?
This is my journey unplanned
in the birthing of every child, every woman, every man.
Someone else, would be a dark, lost soul
searching for something that can make them whole.
Is there a God in Heaven above who sees
Christian, Islamic, Hebrew, Buddhist, Hinduist refugee like me?
I only know, I sense a feeling I can't dismiss
in the doubts that often persist
questioning a God's creative flow in the how and why life exists
this within me I sense and know.
My Next Life
There is a life that may yet be
might open my eyes to what I need to see,
the lessons experienced and learned at a cost,
love gained and lost
recovered and treasured in the coins random toss,
what will that life be when all is shared equally
is there nothing left of you and me?
I would start again, the saint, the sinner man
unawares of the prior life, I spent within a life span
still, I would find a way
to believe and pray
locked in life's perpetual dance
foolishly making the same mistakes of chance.
My Breath Flows in this Here and Now
This is a heartbeat fast and slow that I hear
yours and mine, alive, living loud and clear,
nothing makes us more of who we are
then past memories with all its scars,
I'm sorry for all I did, all I may have said
glad that time allows us to still look ahead,
I do believe God exists
God judges not
love gives me the courage to not resist,
perhaps in time,
with faith and understanding
I will find my way, my purpose to accept a creator's planning.
For Unseeking Seeker's contest
Doublethink beliefs
12/07/2021
Let It Rain
On mountaintops and hillsides
In villages and valley floors
Let it rain
Fall on us through the whispers of the wind
Fill our creeks and ditches up to our chins
Let it rain
Fill our dams, our rivers, and our reservoirs
Grant to us the musical raindrops for hours
Let it rain
On roof tops of tin, asphalt, and tar
May your wet drops be heard from afar
Let it rain
Our summer lawns are no longer green
Roses are struggling like I’ve never seen
Let it rain
The fall trees are late and longing for brown
The birds and the bees stare at me with a frown
Let it rain
The summers have been long, dry, and hot
Some farmers quit, because their crops were shot
Let it rain
The drought has lasted for at least four years
Many have experienced the pain along with the tears
Let it rain
O Lord, many things have changed and will never be the same
O Lord, only you can make it rain, as we pray in your name
O Lord, wet our appetite for you, and take away our fright
O Lord, we plea, let it rain.
12222015(PS contest, about “Rain”)
[Prologue: throughout human history of those who've acknowledged the soul, a consciousness predating birth and surviving death, only a minority have experienced its reality during an NDE or an out-of-body episode while a majority have had a sense of it that seems more than just a 'belief'. In this material world both those who believe in transcendence and those who believe only matter is real (materialists) easily feel constrained by time, yet time, time as we know it, is itself an illusion, existing only in the memory or in anticipation of the future. Each of us really has only the immeasurable moment, which ironically is how I experienced my soul in my 20's: as always existing without start or finish, in a sort of endless moment. Such is the mind-frame in which I wrote this poem, speculating on how one's soul transcends time itself.]
Imagine that you exist without time,
days and months and years
mean nothing to you,
nor do centuries or millennia or even eons--
the entire Universe of time--
some 14 billion years!--
means little more to you
than a fly alighting on your nose--
because you KNOW-- you know time is not real
and every single moment you exist
weighs more than Eternity itself...
because...
you exist always, endlessly,
without ever beginning:
you always have been and
you always will be--
you are the moment
and the moment is you--
THAT is your soul--
what you call time can no more
be grasped than a hand
can grasp hold of air....
Born in Earth now without any baggage.
Enjoyed childhood in carefree attitude.
Drove car of life out of parent’s garage
as youth sang on high pitch in interlude.
Started to pick either pebbles or gems.
Born in Earth now without any baggage.
Sometimes achieved fame, sometimes put in blame.
All are collected, protected in package.
Tasted bitterness, relished beverage
Accessed success, experienced defeat.
Born in Earth now without any baggage
Love stored in my trove, also took deceit.
In last phase duties are completed too.
Then to release emotional bondage.
After crossing death point, me ready to
born in Earth again without any baggage.
You electrify my senses; you are a storm that brings me to life
Your delicate scent invades my nostrils before my eyes catch a glimpse
The familiar smell of home
I turn
Your silhouette contrasted against the green backdrop shatters any notion of beauty I have held before
You are the most beautiful place I have ever been
The sound of your voice is as soothing as the waves lapping gently against a weather beaten shore
Your laughter explodes from you with the force of spring storm illuminating all around you
My hands ache for the texture of your smooth skin to fall into their grasp
My entire being screams out to feel your hands fall into mine and pull me close
My soul bellows with joy as your eyes burn into me searching the deepest depths of who I am
The taste of your soft honey filled kisses is the world’s greatest treat
YOU are definitely something a few trivial words cannot capture
YOU need to be experienced, not talked about
YOU are most certainly the most beautiful place I have ever been
Heed this warning, dear ladies,
Sage advice I would impart:
Don't waste your love on a man
With a harlequin heart.
He can never be trusted,
His words won't be sincere,
He will never be faithful,
And he won't shed a tear
When your dreams lie in tatters
And he's left you alone,
And he'll never endeavor
For his sins to atone.
For a while he'll beguile you,
But in the end you will find
You cannot caress a river,
You cannot embrace the wind.
He's here today and gone tomorrow,
He'll take his pleasure then depart,
And the sorrow you will treasure
Is all you'll have with which to measure
What it's like to love a man
With a harlequin heart.
Author's note: After reading Ann Peck's piece "A Seasonal Love", I once again dug into my archives and found this offering. I hope none...or not many...of you dear lady readers have experienced this kind of guy.
Feel like I'm at a stand still in life
it's like everyone wants to be #1
but I can't please everyone
I'm back in that prism
I vacated that prison
I done my time
paid my debt
it's no longer a life sentence
I heard em say when will he listen
if I let the old diminish
isn't that me losing a part of myself
how am I supposed to make a
full house outta the hand I was a dealt
too late to fold
gotta flourish it gotta nourish it
that concrete rose
can't turn cold
I been high but I also
experienced the lows
those who are truly honest
have honestly been exposed
naked while fully clothed
isn't that the mission?
to show em
you aren't the only who
gave up a piece of their self
in this decision
it was executive, presidential
signed off on
official
it took off like a missile
but now as I look
I try to find the propeller
is it in the hangar
what propelled it
it's cold
out on it's own
desolate
but there's always a way
to get back what was lost...
The in thing to say now, everyone calls themselves pan or bi or trans
Annoying to me, for they have not experienced any abuse for it.
I have had three friends murdered, because they were trans.
Anyway, the police think this is the reason they were killed.
In the Bible-thumping belt where a book means more than a child.
Some religious leaders are preaching against anyone who is trans.
I was sitting in the front pew, wishing I wore dresses when I noticed.
Announcing I had a crush on the minister’s daughter, was a mistake.
Being only eight at the time, I did not realize how I would be bullied.
How many people would advise my mother to make a man out of me.
I could never be a man, I was a girl, accidentally living in a girl’s body.
I was trans before trans was accepted, I was ostracized.
Luckily, I had a mother who recognized I was being me.
That God had made me, and God did not make mistakes.
She began to buy me dresses and entered me into beauty pageants.
I now work as an advocate for other trans people.
Men and women who were thrown out of their parents’ homes
Because of prejudice and hatred toward people who live their truth.
I am proud to stand up for the trans people of the world.
I am excited to be part of their success story.
Dear Lord Byron
Please don't be upset
I wish to call you George
With affection and respect
The "Destruction of Sennacherib"
I was introduced to your poem
I learned it word for word
As I sat home all alone
You see George the meaning
Is much more than you know
In school I had no success
I was considered quite slow
Empowered by your words
Assyrians coming down
I spoke with true emotion
For once I wasn't a clown
When I spoke of your steed
With his nostrils all wide
Within the deep of me
I experienced pride
Like the leaves in your forest
When summer is green
You provided inspiration
I now travel where you've been
With a pen held in my hand
My destruction I escape
Within my troubled mind
New ideas take their shape
I'm gifted with freedom
Words of power do supply
Whether reading or writing
They provide me with my high
So George, I humbly thank you
You're truly the reason why
I travel within the words
They're the gift that help me fly
With anticipation
I know one day we'll meet
Beyond the gates of heaven
Please reserve for me a seat
The Father of all poets
Will speak in splendid tones
We'll marvel at his spirit
We will feel it in our bones
For poets are connected
In very intricate ways
Time is not of consequence
Our words are a form of praise
As a child when I committed Lord Byrons poem to memory,
I had no idea it was a story from the Bible. Being he was a
believer I wanted to honor both him and our God. Thanks
Monterey, I think this is a great topic for a poem. I also
chose to write in the same form as he had for "The Destruction
of Sennacherib". This was the first and only form I wrote in
prior to coming to the soup. I thank all the poets here who have
helped me grow, yourself included Monterey.