Long Exuding Poems
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Mine fervent aspiring political activism...
Gunning gusto, (while rosy axles grind)
for Bernie Sanders dagnabbit
nipped in figurative bud triggered zilch
prospects to germinate,
cultivate, and amalgamate
late blooming spore port as
schlocky, reedy, quirky, political neophyte,
whose aura, charisma, dogma
enigma, persona... absent gregarious masculinity.
Scant hours after posting Facebook message
Monday February 17, 2020
(regarding becoming linkedin
among Bernie Sanders's supporters
within Southeastern Montgomery Pennsylvania
hinting genuine motive (mine of course)
to join local grassroots bandwagon
electing catapulting aforementioned
Democratic candidate president,
into Oval Office
overwhelmingly elected
Tuesday November 3, 2020
an unexpectedly pleasant forthcoming response
(courtesy Jon Hall seven nine five eight at gmail)
informed yours truly transcendently, telepathically
inspired debate watch party
would be (accompanied when in full swing)
by most popular contra dance bands,
and eminently choreographed counting
topnotch cadres of policy wonks
upstairs at Molly Maguire's Irish Restaurant
(197 Bridge Street,
Phoenixville, Pennsylvania)19460
slated for Wednesday
March 19th, 2020 at 2000 hours military time.
Guess what dear readers...?
Yours truly, (an aging,
albeit eternally youthful
long haired pencil necked geek)
never experienced sought after fraternization
think ennobling rite of northwest passage
comprising electrifying informality
getting plugged into self-described
indomitable enthralling brouhaha
starring none other than
Democratic socialist and independent senator
from Green Mountain state
(by Samuel de Champlain in 1647)
Bernie Sanders exuding vim and vinegar
at age seventy eight
heartily hailing (no kidney ying)
who served in government since 1981.
I showed up at designated place
and specified time,
and got politely informed
courtesy young attractive hostess,
no such arousing, inspiring, spine tingling...
commingling of eager electorates slated,
thus overzealousness (mine)
bit the dust i.e. never got kickstarted.
The Dandy
Why tug and pull and wrench the beauty out
And leave a hole wherein she sat
When her crowning glory has a sunny glow
Closely cropped above her shape
With slender form that’s cloaked in green
From which her spiky limbs stand proud
Now thrown upon a united pile
Forlorn and shriveled, bent, unkempt
Exuding milky fluid from her damaged body
Her foes delight in her agone and gloat
No more the endless anchor that roots her to the spot
She joins the multitude of fading family
Whose ancient cures from way before
Fixed ills and made life better
A sun seeker removed from Eden
The childhood clock amid the meadows
That tells the world it’s time to go
Charismatic Zoe consistently bears tendancy
of softening strangers into friends
Perhaps resulting from her relocating frequency
Her familiarity with 'all sorts' hones empathy
Inspires trust, apprehension suspends
Fresh town primed to garner aquaintence
In the year charming Zoe turns thirty eight
Uninhibited, curious, built by self reliance
Folks cheerfully offer firm alliance
Her attentiveness ensures it remains
Zoe values conversation vivid vivacious
Exuding nonchalance, ability to laugh at her folly
Fabulous new friendships steadily progress
Synchronisity cements compadre success
Several new girlfriends all in their forties!
Shrinking space separates her from next decade
Stubborn Zoe pictures dowdy entirely optional
Zone of forty hopefully could be allayed
Reality shattered, coming years delayed
Ignorance imagines aging not applicable
She perceives it holds hands with abating energy
Admires dignity older friends can achieve
Surely high spirits dissolve eventually?
Settled staid of middle aged brings lethargy
Lustre of gusto a gown youth beseech
Witty Zoe's process barely outstanding
Timidly turning formidable forty - - - -
Truth had evaded fathomed planning
Age expectations are pure semantics!
Trajectory questions finally sorted
Embracing increasing, relaxed stance decided
Zoe dresses in fearless effervescent
Category defiant, her latitude desirable
Zeal's spirit reveals pleasant surprises
Takes unashamedly from unfolding present
Written for : Time Poem Contest
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Originated : 9th June 2020
Fabulous is summer’s zeal, rustling its vibrant appeal
Allured by song of robins, warbling from willow trees
Rhapsodic in revelry of frolicking shamrock prairies
Enticing lovers’ exuberance waltzing on ocean breeze
Where sandy footprints amble, exuding playful hints
Eagerly invoking love through kindled vibes of fantasies
Luxuriating on beaches, reminiscing sensual musings
Longingly indulging in smitten hearts’ fervent dreams
Tantalized by multicolored choreography of monarchs
Orbiting scented blossoms, articulating random dance
Seduced by fiery vistas invoking passions of romance
Ubiquitous in changing colors beckoning advent of fall
Meticulously browning fields where cattle lazily graze
Mesmerized in twilight blaze, scintillating orange-red
Ebulliently painting horizon in decaying crimson glaze
Ruminating autumn’s brilliance in summer’s farewell
October 8, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 23 – Seasonal Acrostic – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Farewell to Summer
I wish I was a tough guy
The kind you meet in books
Made of rock hard muscle
With rugged hard man looks
A Raymond Chandler hero
Exuding macho charm
A super spy or villain
With a beauty on each arm
I’d love to be the kind of guy
That others see and fear
The bane of every coppers life
I'd look at them and sneer
I might fall for a sucker punch
Get beaten up or more, but
I’d meet them face to face
And then, I’d even up the score
Wish I could be like Marlowe
And ooze testosterone
Women falling at my feet
For my heart as cold as stone
I would stand up to the bad guys
When I’d won, I’d get the dame
They would say “who was that tough guy”
I’d say “Rupert, that’s my name”
Line of inquiry:
"conjoined with the whole
we play our life role
exuding a scent
granting love consent"
Hope in us glows
triumphant as our faith grows
spreading peace of blissful blessing-flows
along God's grace* to defy doubts and subdue woes.
Love from us does shine
radiating nature of the divine
as we strive to stay inside compassion's line
marked by kindness, freed from jurisdiction of "only mine."
Joy midst us is surely contagious
as we treat all the Lord's creation as indeed precious
forgiving and caring for one another, prayerfully conscious
always wishing the best for each other to become victorious.
* 2 Corinthians 9:8 And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.
August 20, 2025
10th place, "Our Effervescence" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 9/3/2025
Ladies and gentlemen, and all the rest
We do entertain you to the fullest
As pickle members of well-being zest
Showing functional roles for healthy quest
Making us thank God*, we’re uniquely blest!
Ready are we to show our savory best
Sizzling loudly, exuding flavor’s jest
Behold our spices strong in challenging taste test
Mustard seed, chili powder belt song-fest
While turmeric yodels from choir loft nest!
Onstage are fresh herbs lilting with delight
Ginger, onion, garlic, dill … sway to flight
Along salt and vinegar’s graceful might
Ecstatic midst olive oil’s waltzing sprite
Satiating awesomely everyone’s appetite!
Molasses, alum rise to freedom height
Swirling around cucumbers’ soaring sight
As crispy carrots with shrimps glide aright
Bottled on display for dieters’ plight---
In our party, you’re welcome --- since we palatably invite!
*In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
September 7, 2022
6th place, "It's A Pickle Party" Poetry Writing Premier Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 9/10/2022.
I met a man
who broke out
in a sweat
When I asked him
to read my poems
I thought it was odd
to be so distraught
I never saw
this phenomenon
His eyes looked
long gone
So:
It got me thinking
About:
what's wrong
with poetry
Isn't:
It about syllables
we count
and the timing
in rhyming
And:
The smelling
of dirt
in organicly
growing words
With:
Thoughts flowing
underneath
our surface
Accompanied:
By emotions
exuding
out of
our being
Then:
The thought
hit me
he
couldn't see
Because:
He
didn't understand
empathy
he's
the product
of sociopathy
So:
I clicked
my pen
and went on
to pretend
That:
What was
deficient
in him
wouldn't
affect
the writing
in me
After:
I went on
to florish
with my
well chosen
stories
Then when:
He still
couldn't
get them
Low and Behold:
I had to close
my poems
................with
"The End."
Regally it stands, the staunch guardian of her lonesome heart,
Reminiscing in revelries of yore, treasured memories impart,
Defying glum turbulence of now, hanging on to seasons past,
When springs-winsome banished, doldrums harsh-winters cast.
Disheartened, the gate harkens back~ O, so young its master died,
Lamenting of distressed times, when grief stilled her teary eyed;
Yet, with resolve, it squeaks its hinges, resounding a voice of pride,
Beckoning to benevolence of bliss, fate had so callously denied.
With kindred vibes it greets her, vying elation of cherished days,
Suppressing aches and rattles of its rusting, clamoring, phase;
Preferring realm of time, when he was the keeper of this place,
As dutifully now it opens wide, exuding mirth of youthful grace.
O, how fondly the gate recalls, dance of duo beneath full moon,
Humming melodies intimate, passions of doting souls croon,
Embracing celebration of life, as heartbeats enamored attune,
To rhythms emanating song of love, strumming infatuated tune.
Despite groans and whimpers, blaring aloud clattering of pain,
The gate vows to protect her, refusing ever to wither or wane,
Unwavering through thunders, rains, vicious strikes of feeble age,
Challenging its steeled bones, to gallantly defy seasons’ rage.
Inspired by the spaces in time that I can't remember
Filling them with maybes and dreams
wishing they were clearer
Finding myself sad
Writing about memories of a distant past
My past must have been a reflection of downcast
Erased memories written and told, but
essentially lies formed from the illusion of ties to negative thoughts
Ultimately I've created lines of words on subjects
I've never dreamed of being taught
Somehow through all the imagining and complexities
of finding out my worth
I remember the first time that my poetry gave birth
It was like I was a beautiful and as fruitful as the earth
I began to experiment and reinvent the old days
while still finding new ways to deliver the message
that we living in the last days
My purpose is to inform and to be a discrete slave
Faithful and free
Im from the same place where hip hop met poetry
and where scripture is the basis for spirituality
So any falsehood ye feeds me
I can filter right through thee
Still blindly recording thoughts of
misery and deceptions and betrays and let downs and acceptance
Life is full of it's little quirks and antics
I've learned how to be when I've felt let down or disappointed
I've learned how to be when I've been embarrassed or unwanted
I give birth to another chance
I graciously reside into a humble ball of submissiveness
I reside in the beauty of subtle solitude
while blatantly exuding love
The goal is repentence