Long Fall over Poems
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GROWING UP THE PAST RUNS DEEP
Growing up in the village..
days before electricity arrived
when i used a kerosin lamp..
as i browsed through volumes..
volumes of literature..
Till my eyes would turn dry..
and i would feel dizzy...
for not changing my reading poster
screaming nerves accussing mi..
i stood accussed of abuse
by my own senses..
Sweet sleep would fall over me..
the novel dropping..
from mines limb hands
dreaming of strange lands..
Oh the joy of addiction..
i was hooked to good stories
Evading peers to catch up
on a book.. didnt i love escapism
negleting schoo work... now thts dumb..
negleting sports and exercises wasnt i hooked
the past is deep i spent a lot of time..
reading make believe stories
Moving to the east coast town..
after finishing forth...
i fell in love with movies
and became an enemy of the books
a great movie i watched..
robbed of my immagination
Rushing over meals
running to catch a new movie
my brother michael...
sneezing allrgies of the polluted cities..
i was missing village life..
Strange swahili culture..
christian, muslims, arabs africans
strange foreigners,, i have this-
against them most of them didnt seem
to love clothes.. yet the others
covered to their eyes..
Mwadhini calling the faithful to prayer
christians holding week long crusades..
here the battle was for souls
or was it the offerings
strange swahili culture..
drinking strange palm wine..
such was the life at the coast
New friends trying to revert me to islam..
elders remmindim me not to forfeit..
the wisdom of our people..
borrowed clothes dont fit well..
and customs and traditions..
are the mirror of society..
No where were my beliefs challenged more..
they called me almukafirun...
i retaliated youre a zailim..
didnt we love the enlightening debate
softening of stands..
proponent and opponent reached common ground...
The bond of friendship and culture
breakin down- them
cultural religios barriers
friends and gal friends from all religions
people at the coast are very freindly
and salaams greetings a way of life..
Stories of jinn and black majic
we knew not to give much-
credence.. there of the disbelivers
we believed in the onness of the supreme..
debated on tenacles of faith..
for the bond of love runs deep
and the past is deep..
by lewis k nyaga
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7xUZkKd58c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXJWkB8ODAQ
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If I were to have my way; the welcome of-those
bygone days, then I'd be sure they would know.
My hopes the fairest dreams of all; were all I wanted to
share - the ones held so dear that I couldn't let go of for
anyone - but them.
As plane rides come to mind jet setting daily qualms God's
buried grace the quiet suicides, was all that came of those-days,
and because I have come to find, parachutes are an option-not
only for those that are living... but are expressly offered for the
worn walking alone and weary within themselves already reeling
from their regrets -
and so it is I believe God being the catalyst for my life, a show-
of His greater eminence and Sovereignty - mercy -
because I too exist myself in a free fall over this valley of the-
dead - and-so it has become for me my own personal, peculiar-
quirk of twisted providence, the evidence of my fate that all
circles are not the same or brand entirely, nor an entity-
within themselves... completely whole - because my-
experience has shown that they too, given
the-proper-vexing, like me -
can be broken... .
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nePSpOlLfYY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTzDAMf33Jo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1F2zl4LqSlg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDQc6SMNwgY
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Is it too much
Is it too much to ask to find that one, that one that makes your heart skip a beat the first time you see them
Is it too much to ask when you accidentally touch for the first time and, you both feel an electric shock, not the kind you get from walking across a rug?
Is it too much to ask that when you look into each other's eyes for the first time and get lost for what seems like an eternity
Is it too much to get lost in someone's words the first time you hear them speak, in a noisy crowded room and, the only thing you can hear is their voice above all else and, it melts away all your brick wall defenses?
Is it too much to ask to feel pulled to that one person, so strong that you think if they walked away, you might fall over because there was no longer anything holding you up?
Is it too much to ask, that during that first dance, you feel each other shake to the core? Each other holding so close and tight that no one can tell if two people are dancing and not just one?
Is it too much to ask that when the lights come at the end of the last song and you release your embrace and it feels like your hearts are being pulled from your chests and remaining in their own embrace on the dance floor
Is it too much to ask that you both ache deep in your heart knowing, that it won't go away until your hearts feel each again when you're in the same room and seek each other out until you find each other again
Is it too much to ask that during the first time you are together, your souls find each other, and never want to let go
Is it too much to ask that when you’re in each other's arms you melt together and become one, feeling like there is nothing and no one in the universe that could come between you?
Is it too much to ask to feel their warm breath on your chest as they drift off to sleep, cheek firmly on you with arms holding you tight as if they are afraid it is just a dream and you won’t be there when they wake? Knowing that they are warm and safe and don’t want to live without each other?
Is it too much to ask to wake in the morning with them looking at you as you slept, find yourselves looking at each other and you both know that you are theirs and they are yours for all eternity?
Sometimes I think id!
Author?
Someone you may know.
Form:
Religion in the public square is becoming an endangered species. - Mathew Staver
the lavender moon, in silhouettes of blue
paint my thoughts in melodies,
hues of grace and gentle peace, silent flow
tulips, roses, lilies blowing in the wind,
who breaths her hope across the meadow,
laughing, dancing, singing wistful
in trembling verses, stirring the delicious
vision of gifted words, healing
hopes that break away from the past
shatter the shadows with an overcast sky,
burdened by melancholic gray,
broken by the memories who prey
on the spirit, the soul, the wisdom of a knowing…
dressed in aster’s kiss, flames of gold
hesitating, burning away the doubts,
flavoring the heart with a feeling,
flowing beyond the still, cool crispness
autumn’s elation, praising, amazing
chanting to the moon, the stars
blessing the thoughts of those who hear her,
whispering, rustling through September,
passing by the rust colored truths,
embracing the silence and erasing the fear,
who comes to those hearts
listening to the rarest crackling of a tear,
edged in grief, distant calamity…
testing the waters, challenging the thoughts
who hear her mysteries,
unconscious bias, darkening the wings
who soar over the dreams,
fighting back the urge
to forget the joy that sees
through the catastrophic brink
insanity, the folly
beneath the doubts, the fears
tears blended with salty songs,
quietly pleading, praying, praising
because He is never wrong
His love leaves the moment calm,
soothes away the distant panic,
replacing her phobia
with assurance… He is silent,
while blessings fall over the spirit,
in secret promises, forever
written on the heart who sees Him,
in the secret places, always
saving souls from the darkness
of eternity without hope,
eternity without love…
unconscious bias tells me, forever
I’ll sing the song of thanksgiving
because, with this love He reveals
I know what it is to be fulfilled,
I know what it is to be assured,
I know what it is to be loved,
with love that is my soul’s joy,
love that is the moment I knew
the light of the world,
the light that is pure,
the light that glows so I know
the wonder of reflecting the love
that grows and grows…
so I know – He is living, deep in my soul!
Prelude to Psalm 23
Nothing could have been more pleasing to me
Than walking on this bed of soft green grass
Until feeling the gentle slope beneath my feet
And seeing the blue hue of the sky above
Thinking that if I didn’t ease forward just one step more before turning round
And didn’t keep my eyes closed and my breath held in
That the moment would somehow be made less perfect
Than I wanted it to be.
It wasn't the view but the sight
Of my young daughter’s face that made me wonder
Until feeling the distance between us grow
While losing my balance and falling backwards.
It was then that I saw You Lord reaching towards me.
The tug on my sleeve was just enough to sway my balance forward.
Your look of concern was more than enough to let me know that you cared about Me more than anyone I’d ever met because...
(Psalm 23) The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for You are with me
your rod and your staff - they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.
by Jean McLoughlin
A Note from the Author
This poem was written about a dream I had one night.
Perhaps it's not obvious in the poem but in my dream I was walking up a hill which, unbeknownst to me, had a steep ravine cut into it.
The moment I realised that I was about to fall to my death my life passed before my eyes.
My biggest concern was for my baby daughter, who had followed me.
I didn't want to leave her on her own and knew that she would most certainly fall over the edge too.
I can still see the rocks below and the stones built into the edge of the cliff.
When I looked into my Savior's face I could see more love and understanding than there had been in any of my previous relationships.
This was the moment I knew that He was the one for me and I awoke with this feeling and a deeper understanding of Psalm 23.
Praise the Lord!
He’s someone she once knew. He’s the reason she loves the rain and why she finds herself always waiting for the next storm. The bigger the storm, the more she remembers, sitting on the back porch at Angel Ave, wrapped in his arms. He always made her feel safe during the loud cracks of thunder.
The rain was their music. The pitter-patter, pitter-patter—a melody that built with every drop. Crescendoing as the gray clouds released their burden onto the earth. The music, it was beautiful, peaceful almost, falling from the tree branches that were far above their reach.
He would strap her into the stroller, his hand warm on her back, and take her for what he called their umbrella journey. The way the rain sizzled as it hit the pavement, it created a steam that wrapped around them, creating their own world. It always felt magical to her. The soft mist glistening under the flickering streetlight, which seemed to know it was part of something bigger—something just for them.
As they walked beneath it, the rain would land gently on her cheeks, left to right, then right to left. It would ease up for a moment, leaving a few beads that tickled her nose. She could still remember the giggles, the kind that escaped her without thinking, the ones that bubbled up when the rain would make her squint and smile.
He would laugh behind the beard, his voice a low rumble, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, simpler, perfect. But time had a way of stealing these moments.
Years had passed since Angel Ave. Since those rainy walks. Since the man behind the beard.
Now, she stands alone waiting for a storm that might bring him back. Hoping that the rain would be enough to bridge the space between what was and what could never be again. She looked up, letting the rain fall over her face, feeling the same cool mist tickle her skin. The giggle, now distant, bubbled up again—soft and bittersweet. She closed her eyes, and for a mom, in the sound of the rain, she could almost hear him laugh, too
Maybe it wasn’t about waiting anymore. Maybe it was about accepting that the storm had passed, but the memory of it—the music of the rain—would stay with her always.
Staring into the deep
Life is a metaphor and I am simply its ball.
I bounce off walls and as I rise, I fall.
Just looking for the right time to say the right word,
Because it would feel so wrong if I let myself fail
And my words were never heard.
Life is a story, never foreseen and never before told.
It is still being written and we are still on the right road.
A long way from home, heading into the unknown.
I cannot afford to be close to you, because of all the charity I owe.
An image of a scarecrow drifts into my mind,
To remind me of a scarier time that made me impulsively act alive.
I saw the signs; I have to sigh,
To let it all go, by leaving it all behind.
When I am gone, my writings will remain, I hope,
Because all I know is how to be honest and how to never grow old.
A war and peace of trying to become all that I can,
Could be lost in an instant, if I am not given a second chance.
I hold on tight to the belief in what I write,
Because I am only alive as a word upon a line.
Love is awesome; I am not.
Point my finger at the side of my own head,
Shout bang aloud to the sound of a shot.
Fall to my knees to grieve the loss of all I did.
As I stare into a mind that looks like a hall of mirrors.
My thoughts all say
“I am with stupid.”
Many faces have lived my life;
Many tongues will tell my tale.
Many choices I have tried to get right,
But I have no cure to my success in the fail.
Slippery when wet, so hold on tight,
I would never want you to fall over.
I have my crutch to lift me up;
A cure to getting older.
Love is a balloon and you are all playing with pins.
Pop goes the feeble.
You have lost all that which once was…
Now all there is; is the sequel.
Inside my chest a heart of the ocean is buried,
So deep beneath, that it may never become married.
But love is so warm; such joy! Another say cheese moment to be found.
Dreaming of an everlasting, while keeping my feet on solid ground.
A promise sworn; no need to be scared.
Life is a sea of fishes,
So collect your entitlement to love;
For they will always be there.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
There’s a fury on the waves
A madness taking place
Fueled by the blood
Of weary wage slaves
And they taught us how to hate
In a hi tech kind of way
Made us meat puppets
For the wars they wage
In a playground, running round
In a playground, being clowns
Weren’t we once kids
Just kicking a ball?
Laughing ‘bout everything
Nothing at all
In a playground, ‘neath the sun
In a playground, having fun
Weren’t we once kids
Thought war is a game?
Fall over dead
And jump up again
(Hey, hey, what do you want to say?}
Don’t want to lose my legs
In defense of larceny
The banksters stealing billions
From the national Treasury
Don’t want to take a bullet
Left coughing up blood
For your right to a lap dance
At some faraway club
Don’t want to suck my meals
Through a thin feeding tube
On behalf of profiteers
Dealing addicts their crude
Don’t want to wheeze harshly
Hooked to a machine
In the service of ingrates
And all that’s obscene
Don’t want to suffer flashbacks
Those nightmarish screams
While billionaires lullaby
To private jet dreams
Nobody’s tool, nobody’s fool.
NO!!!!
In a world so long ago
In a world we used to know
Weren’t we once kids?
Who sang funny songs
No thoughts of torture
Phosphorous bombs
In a world so long ago
In a world we used to know
Weren’t we once kids?
Who rode on our bikes
Vampires scared us
Not nuclear strikes
(Hey, hey, what do you want to say?)
There’s a fury on the waves
A madness taking place
Fueled by the blood
Of weary wage slaves
There’s a world of growing horror
Where a playground stood before
And it ‘s time to stop
This lunatic war
There’s a world of growing horror
Where a playground stood before
And it’s time to stop
This murderous war
There’s a world of growing horror
Where a playground stood before
And It’s time to stop
This sickening war
There’s a world of growing horror
Where a playground stood before
And it’s time to stop
This bloody awful war
Let’s bring back our playground
Stop this war
Let’s restore our playground
Stop this war…
Yes, it’s time
(yes it’s time)
Time to STOP THIS WAR!
In my dreams, sitting by the fire, listening
To the sigh of winter’s whispering
Just beyond the window, a mystery
Breathing laughter through the heavens
In stars, shimmering messily, like they
Know what it is to be glowing just beyond
The reach of the sun, in the shadows
They erase every doubt with their brilliance,
Shining in echoes, inspiring prayers
I know the meaning of whimsical
As my paw presses wistfully against the miracle
Snow falling, flakes glistening in the distance,
Reminding me that, even in winter –
Beauty from His blessing tree fall over the earth,
Silencing the doubts that linger in autumn
When all around, trees are losing their hope,
And dreams start their early hibernation
Like me, feeling the weather’s chill, the still
Cool winds and storms, the season
That brings me into a deep sleep is the same
Season that brings me such sweet peace
It happens just after the snows begin,
When the gentling of rainfall has changed
From dripping liquid to drifting, gliding, glistening
Graceful flecks, like music notes, coasting
Aimlessly – wandering over the mountains,
Across the meadows and, sometimes even
Through the entrance to my abode, the cavity
In the mountains, surrendering to me…
A home…
Where the deep sleep has brought me
From the dark days of winter into the serenity
Surrounding this wistful piece of nature’s
Reflections into what only God could have stirred
In the heart of an animal as wild and eager as I,
Taking me from the desolation of winter’s bitter cold
Into dreams that forsake every storm with a kindness
Only found in the rich life of a dreamworld,
A dreamland where my heart is inspired, my soul
Delighted by the imaginings of an early spring,
The reminders that tickle me awake some days…
As I forget the winter and evoke the image of spring
Because it is true – that in every life –
Winter is not forever and my slumber, though
Pleasant, will not last either…
Afterall, just like you – bears like Spring
sunbathing too!
Winter is not Forever Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
January 21, 2023
This was written first night of my recovery from complex spinal surgery to fix my paralysis, while in ICU. Still there
.Wee Hours of a Chess Match
I have still been passing
The long, wee hours of a chess match with pain,
Unfairly played as time does not
Permit me even a lit sight
Of the board and I captain the black
Pieces with my limited vision. So,
Even at the very start, my queen was taken,
With her protecting pawn and bishop.
I am a veteran player, but
Notably cautious — unwise for this game —
And particularly with this opponent.
Pain plays no games: striking
Arteries while simultaneously
Poisoning the brain; it strikes
At the soul —hoping the soul will sink with
Christ at the call. Plus, pain uses time and
Strategies to outlast,
To which nearly unending throes of agony
Will testify. Two more of my pawns and a rook are taken.
Pain sizes up to win.
My king captures a lost bishop.
Pain calls me lucky. Observers call me
Too drowsy and my anger sharpens!
Have they no idea of the reserves needed
To calm such a battle into measured breaths?
They claim, See we saw you entranced!
No, but no! I shout. It is a supreme effort
To pacify the nerves while picks stay at
Work to unsettle them.
Another of my rooks is taken.
This is no game. The taken are slaughtered.
There are no negotiations.
The bishops are wanderers before
Even learning for whom their prayers are meant.
Each side should have a multi-directional Angel,
Due more squares than a pawn. Knights fighting for
Pain need to know what that means, so could have
A square cut from their moves. Pawns serving pain
May only run away, take no prisoners, and
Just fall over dead when passed.
”Resilience” is a password for life, not pain.
Fingerprints everywhere, coat the pieces — hopeful
Of defeating pain. Knights do little anymore,
While on earth
As in heaven,burdens are shared and halved :
The war against pain soon, soon...to ease.
Relieve. Believe.
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(C) sally Young Eslinger 10/1/2020