Long Farthing Poems
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“Time is a gift that most of us take for granted. We get caught up in our daily lives and rarely take the time to appreciate the simple wonders around us.”
Cheryl Richardson
"This little poem was not entered in any other contest : ~~The Poet~~
Take time to read.
Wonders indeed
Wonderful times,
Making Rhymes.
Sapphire dew drops.
Bubble as it pops.
Pink cotton candy
Fine French brandy
Sweet baby smiles
Beauty that beguiles.
Kitten’s gentle purr
Puppy’s soft fur
Time heals.
Church bell peals
Soft lemon scent
Feeling content
Brilliant sun rising
Oh, so mesmerizing.
Sun softly fading.
Lemonade cascading
Fresh air inhales
Spider web trails
Time to wonder,
Why it’s down-under.
Captivating looks
Mystery books
Lover’s letters
Angora sweaters
Connecting glances
Heaven sent chances.
First spring rose
Ribbons n bows
Sweet vine grapes
Red velvet drapes
Ornate Venus statue
When I look at you
Time of the essence.
In quiescence
Lavender snips
Smooth satin lips
Petite daisy chains
Cover when it rains.
Wanting to stay
Celestial visions play.
Pirouetting pansies
Goofy chimpanzees
Crisp linen sheet
Friends as they meet.
Time to wander,
Fields out yonder.
Poem of splendor
Caresses so tender
Soft tissue paper
Sandalwood vapor
Call of the ocean
Love’s raw emotion
Fading fairy wings
As my heart sings
Time passes
Fine crystal glasses.
Foam from waves.
Exploring caves
Child’s ponytail.
Pastels ever so pale
Ornamented icicles
Penny-farthing bicycles
Time flies
Kaleidoscope of butterflies
Golden flowing hair
Two sharing prayer
Secrets we can whisper.
Mornings getting crisper.
Fun rides at the fair
A hide-away lair
Dispersing lollipops
Peppermint drops.
Filigree carnations
Winning presentations
Waterfalls cascading
Fairies happily wading.
Cinnamon apple slice
Lucky roll of the dice
Camera flashes
Rain as it lashes.
Walking proud
Sings out loud.
Time to go,
Will miss you so.
"...and
the modist
carving
into the
closet
door
read:
"I do not place my life, nor my trust,
my belief nor my faith within
the
resume
of man,
nor within
his cause.
For he
proclaimed,
is but a
mere
farthing
of his
merest
self;
and not
of Me.
He is
an avid
boasting;
ungrateful,
in the end
still unwilling
to know Me
and share Me
with all life.
Yes, time
is only a
vergence
forgone
to him.
His final
day he
will bring;
and in the way,
he brings this
he cannot rest.
I am certain of this."
"Signed: "Peace"
An ever reflective heart, spirit, mind, body, and soul, nice to meet you, friend.
Some have once called the dreamer as self-serving within the jest that they carry for themselves.
I have no resume of security, nor the double mind found through shame, pain, without submitting this effort to our Creator.
I will not seek to please the mere twist of myself. for in applying myself towards this effort, means dishonor in death.
How best may we serve, because I've said my prayers and am learning, I must apply myself to nothing less?
If this effort is merely for myself, be forewarned I will lead us off of a cliff with the pigs.
As I am being moved today, I am being formed into shape.
I mean to say, I am not the wonton victim today.
I am my very own jailer alone, no, I have no pardon for myself, all by myself.
Jesus, come, protect, Jesus, save who needs to be saved, save us from ourselves.
Jesus, keep us willing, bless us to share You as we will with the truth that carries all of us even in and through the very pain of death.
Keep the breath of life within us, bless us to save face in Your Presence, let this effort be our only wealth.
Off to the side downslope my ride I had time to unburden
I don't know why but somehow thought I might could use my lasso
Tied there upon my saddle
On a small steep bluff it was just enough to stay above the current
But it couldn't last I was thinkin' fast 'bout what might be my savin'?
How my hide to be savin'
As they tumbled past the boys I'd last left as my sweet companions
Were screamin' like the demon that unleashed this ghastly end
This fiery ghastly end
As I swung the horn down from my mount my eyes swept up past Bill
He was staring down from the Devil's crown to the witches brew below
The maelstrom down below
He was still astride that deadly tide that somehow he had conjured
And I could see him smilin' there his eyes still fire a'blazin'
His eyes like fire a'blazin'
And he laughed, I swear like a banshee there above the Hell below
A screamin' wail that would even pale a priest upon his altar
Mid prayer from the altar
Fire still shooting from his eyes, lightning in each hand
He was looking down upon the ground where now I made my stand
I thought it my last stand
The cauldron boiled like a Coven's glow 'cept now a torrent ragin'
And the last I saw of the Bar D crew was a wisp and smolderin' ember
A charred and smolderin' ember
The quakie grove on the bluff I strove around me started crumblin'
And I stumbled round on the crumblin' ground my mind a maverick runnin'
A branded maverick runnin'
My faithful mount fell from my sight his scream announcing his sad plight
It rose high above with the Devil's roar and tumbled down to the valley floor
It tumbled down to the valley floor
The white bark trees all lost their leaves as they twisted in confusion
They bent, some broke, but like the spokes of a penny farthing twisted
Together some had twisted
The universe revolves around patterns and numbers.
Like an insomniac knowing not the meaning of the word slumber.
To say it's a big place would be a gross understatement.
If it were a face we'd be living on a farthing of a freckle,
a speck within a speck, in a weak attempt at communicating
with other fellow specks.
So where does that leave us,
being little more than dust riding on the coattails of pebble?
In the grander scheme of things
are we just the byproduct that some entity imagined one day
from a place both incredibly near and far, far away?
One who is a whiz at math no doubt...
Just look at the population,
how in it's in a constant state of progressive multiplication,
born into a world yet only to be divided into petty categories:
White, black, brown, yellow,
short, tall, slim, fat,
Asian, Caucasian,
European, Indian,
Yugoslavian, Brazilian.
It's a wonder we are recognized at all
living on this ball within a greater ball.
You wonder who holds the strings
or if we're all just windup toys;
alive and exciting for a time
only to run into the last gear,
the last programmed function.
Just what in the world are we doing here?
The universe may practice it's progressive multiplication
and subsequent division. That doesn't bother me.
What I personally like to do is find the GCD (greatest common denominator)...
... the fact we live and breathe. Ears to hear and eyes to see. So pick up the pieces... we have a long way to go if we can ever hope to solve this puzzle.
Though we may be a speck within a speck
riding on the coattails of a pebble, rejoice
with me. That you ARE, that you BE.
Take a good long look
at what surrounds you. It is much more than
it appears.
I don't know all the answers, but I do believe
we have a purpose here.
For the Nationality Contest.
Worry sometimes silences
The dreams that I have dreamed
Darkening the hope for joy
Smothering out the laughter
Quieting the love that inspires
My heart to give, to believe
To live with assurance of Him
Who brings me a measure of peace
A feeling that I have been blessed
A light that reflects all my best
Worry sometimes stops my dreams
Of becoming someone I can see
As kind, caring and giving of acceptance
Someone who listens to God’s wisdom
And lives their life with sincerest direction
On a path of pure love sent from above
Love that comes down to bring us hope
Assurance that we are worth more to Him
Than the sparrows or the lilies,
We are worth His death on a cross
That gave us sweet redemption
The cross that made a way
For our hearts to know true freedom
The cross that taught us to pray
With sincerity and conviction, in a way
That God could approve and answer
With love that goes on forever
Love that is our best answer
Worry might happen to the heart
But the soul knows the One who holds
The answers to our uncertainties
The answers to our apprehensions
The answers to our quest for peace
He brings us the light that shines through
The sorrow and grief, bring sweet relief
To the heart who knows He is
The One and only need – the Savior
The King of kings and prince of peace
This Jesus is the soul’s reprieve
He is the answer to our every need
He is the One in whom I believe!
Worry happens – Worry brings grief
But, with Jesus, there is sure relief
Just listen to your heart and soul’s belief!
Matthew 10:29
King James Version
29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
Form:
Life's a cruel stage
for the sensitive soul
who must suffer in whole,
the jeers and the babble
of an ignorant rabble
Who, paying their
tuppence for cheap
balcony seats,
spew their bile,
words so vile
as to make
a stone weep
The reviews
of the critics,
far be them from smitten,
are bloodily written,
by these cynics
leaking hate
from their pens
Then the papers are printed
and sold by loud hawkers,
to the gossiping gawkers
for barely a farthing;
a cheap nighttime's reading
of our hero's
disgrace
But the wright of this tragedy,
who's penned the production,
such a clever seduction,
is naught to be found
He's hiding backstage,
never facing the rage
of this mob,
that our poor yob
now faces
But there'll be
no early close
of this terrible flop,
no, the pain will not stop
and the follies will
continue a morrow
The backers will pay
to continue the play
for, as we all know,
the show must go on
So, the actors all heed
this despicable creed
to carry on
the deplorable farce
This drama shall replay
one show, plus matinee
every day
for the rest
of his life
Think on this,
dear patrons,
while you're
hissing
and jeering,
that the actor's
one hope
is that you,
he'll be cheering
Say you now,
has he ever failed
to bring you to tears?
Or, perchance
has his laughter
never lifted
your fears?
Life's a cruel stage
for the sensitive soul,
he's paying the toll
to be playing his role
yes, this is
our protagonist's fate
On this Eid, as your sumum bonum
Is consumerism and as your soul is
Mortgaged to the Federal Reserve Bank
And hedonism, your mental wish-list has been
Inked on ‘things-to-dos’. The catalogue is
Quite impressive. Apart from the toddler,
On your lap, often you place your lap-top.
This time before Eid, to go smarter, you have
A must-gadget purchase: Palm-top.
To outshine others, and to add some
Extra gloss to your gadget-profile
You actively consider getting a tablet.
Even though, it is not the diminutive of table
And has nothing to do with the quadruped rectangle
And it is not to be swallowed with water,
It still has some therapeutic attributes.
Your schedule has accrued extra adipose tissue
With a cluster of meetings looming large on the corporate horizon,
You order designer cloths for yourself. Those fancy textile Marco Polos
Globe-trot and come to your door-step riding their
‘You shop, we drop’ policy.
You give blank cheque to your greater-half
To travel to Metropolitan Centres or Peripheral megacities
To epicurianize herself and her cohorts.
From the other side of the horizon,
Thoreau watches you thoroughly and asks,
This time you’ve parted with
From your obesity-ridden bank account.
All this, I know, is cosmetic purpose-driven.
You, proud buddy, spent this much to decorate your body.
Have you spent a single farthing to adorn your soul?
Why would you waver in your way pulling off to the side
Why would you change your day giving back into pride
Surely, His eye is upon you, why would you ever worry
Knowing this in all you do there isn't any need to hurry
The focus of all your attention you will feel such a calm
For did I not mention He has you securely in His Palm
You needn't worry anymore nor need you lose sleep
As in Him all is secure as in Him you need only steep
No storm could ever sink for it is in Him that I abide
In all of the thoughts that I think He is near my side
Such forgiveness of that Cross in dying for us freely
One not feeling His loss is the one who doesn't see
Each day is a special Gift that He has given to you
The world will sift for only in His Word are you true
And such the joy I find in the following of His Way
So as each day may wind in my heart does He stay
Matthew 10:29-31
29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing
and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
I've never been one to nosey but
Looking through my net curtains
I just happened to have a pair of binoculars in my hand
I'm a curious kinda man
Ooh you wouldn't believe the things I've seen
Not being a gossip of course
It's so posh around here the mail is personally
Delivered by the Queen
And across my vast sprawling country estate
Someone's skinny dipping in my lake
I think I'll choose a masserati today
And wave at the peasants on my way.
There goes Dietrich on her penny farthing
Listening to some Hank Marvin
Toqyen is drunk again
Casarah is walking her lama
Tim has just worked out at the gym
And Jan is looking nice and Trim
Peter and Vera
are in the garden
Singing Shakira
Poet destroyer is cutting the grass
Ooh she has a lovely fast
Mower that lass.
There goes Mary Jo on her pogo stick
She doesn't look too well hope she's not sick
Over there prince Harry is having a party again
A fancy dress
And he's dressed as hen
Well folks Think I'll get in my hot tub full of champagne
And wait until tomorrow
When I can spy again.
Peter Dome. copyright. 2014. Sept.