Long Good soul Poems
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I returned to the place of my birth a few months ago.
Visiting there always gives my languid soul a glow.
The house still looks good but the old barn is showing its age.
How long it will weather the storms is difficult to gauge!
Sad to say, its once sturdy beams and doors are sagging.
Its former brilliant red paint and white trim are also lagging.
Decades of tempests and searing sun have exacted their toll.
I recall so many fond memories as about the old barn I stroll!
The old barn was our playground on snowy and rainy days.
Dad placed a hoop on a beam for our rowdy basketball plays.
Scuffling in the mow, burying ourselves in sweet-smelling hay,
We kids spent many happy hours there, whiling the time away!
All was not play for this feckless Hoosier lad.
Honest toil was proffered and expected by my Dad.
At the tender age of ten I was milking Jersey cows;
At hay-making time I was the kid sweating in the mows!
Even though the old barn is aging its hand-hewn oaken beams,
Will bind it together a few more years weathering all extremes.
'Twould be admirable if some good soul would provide the pelf,
To paint and prop it up and restore it to its former self!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Own Agenda
Author Dana Redricks
January 05, 2016
Everybody has their own agenda;
Hardly anybody looking out for nobody else;
Every once in a while you meet a good soul
Who’s willing to go above, and beyond until their
All burnt out; people take your kindness for weakness,
But that’s what wrong with the world; they takes
Something good and they twist it, and corrupt it,
But only the strong last long; don’t let this world
Take your love away; everybody has their own agenda.
Hardly anybody is looking out for anyone else; everybody has
Their own agenda, but only the strong last long; don’t let this
World take your joy away. Everybody has their own agenda.
You have to do what’s best for you; put God Yahweh first, then you,
because If you don’t love yourself who can,and who wins in the end.
Everybody has their own agenda
HIDDEN AGENDA:
It's on record,
Stripping naked in a rainfall.
A prelim lost of freedom,
Heddled by a downfall,
Highlighted with boredom.
The journey is so wrong,
And the prelim wants to hold on.
His soul is crying 'oh Lord'.
Time to time feeling appalled.
The challenge seems so tough.
He wish his life is prolonged,
So he don't demise too young.
The mind is guilty at a cost,
Yes, the prelim is terribly at fault.
But the time is gradually passing out,
And still can't breakout,.
Pressurised by pals,
For him to join their camp,
Indeed he joined them at last.
Later he's realised it's bad,
After the wealth he has amassed,
Can't satisfy his life.
Sacrificed the one he loved,
Only to succeed easily and fast.
Now that the deal is done,
He don't feel so fine.
Surrounded by numerous restrictions,
Gradually getting him diminished.
Always saying he's been foolish.
Figuring out he will soon perish.
Non of his family benefits from his wealth,
As the family's state is not well.
No one understands that tale .
It's a secret that has failed,
Tagged with a notion,
Described as the paramount conclusion.
Surrounded by his cohorts,
Who are also in the same pot.
Hooks up loose ladies,
Uses and troubles them.
Plans carnally to chill at unqualified columns.
Gestures he shows, he ahem,
Anytime questioned about his solemn.
Since he showcases a stealth.
He acts strange,I can tell.
Even his own people,he can't gel.
And their insinuations about him can't be dispelled.
Never doubting words regarding his spell.
This perfidious act proves who he is,
Someone fastened to mortal sin.
Lost from good morals, backslidden.
He didn't get it forbidden.
Buried in devil's riches,
Fifty-fifty sooner die or go mad,
Traded a good soul for vanity, so sad.
Drastic move,Damning not a canard.
A reality to pick a lesson,administered.
III.
Making it worse, the doctors had told her
that great damage had been done by the birth,
she could never carry children again,
was bound to be childless on this earth,
for months she was just a big ball of hurt.
And when she thought of the junkie boy’s fate
she felt growing inside a ball of hate.
It made no sense, why God would do this to her,
but reward someone who had done such wrong.
She’d always lived her life the best she could,
and tried to operate by morals strong,
even when it meant she wouldn’t belong.
But the degenerate got to have kids
despite all the awful things that she did?
She felt like she was being punished for
something, but what it was she didn’t know.
And what kind of God would reward evil
yet lay upon a good soul such a blow?
Then break her womb, and leave her without hope.
Maureen slowly stopped going to the church,
would worship no one who left her in the lurch.
Her mind would just fume, it went on for years,
thinking of that damn crack-baby out there,
living out the life her son was denied,
no doubt trapped in a world of great despair,
and she knew just how that child would fare.
Trapped in the system, born of ruined stock,
to be in trouble until cell doors locked.
That’s what had been preferred to her own babe,
to such a wasted life God was endeared,
a worthless cast-off nobody wanted,
Who would grow to cause many people fear,
that was what the Almighty wanted here.
For years she just limped on, angry and bereft,
so much so that Mark eventually left.
About ten years on she normalized a bit,
enough that she started to work again,
swallowed the pain, save for her son’s birthday,
when she walked to the hospital and then
the pain would return, fill her ever sense.
That was all that Maureen cold bear to allow,
she stuck to this as if she’d taken a vow.
But way back in her head the hate remained,
for the junkie and the boy she gave life,
and no matter that mask that she put on
she knew the world was evil, and not right,
she just no longer had then strength to fight.
This pattern continued many years more,
until one brisk day when she was fifty-four.
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
There’s Always A Call
There’s always a call to dream more,
No hindrance for another goal;
We do not know what is in store,
Our fate will continue to roll.
As long as we have a good soul,
God pours His blessings to the core;
Just always pray for strengths and all,
It’s never too late to dream more.
It’s always nice to fly and soar,
Just rise to stand at times we fall;
Every chance is an open door,
No hindrance for another goal.
Always be brave to climb a wall,
Or row the boat with a new oar;
Dribble again and shoot the ball;
We do not know what is in store.
Like earning another good score,
That will give another life’s role;
Give our best with hope on the shore,
Our fate will continue to roll.
Determination gets its toll,
Be humble, step pride that gives sore;
Let’s value all things, short or tall,
Sail more seas and place God before,
There’s always a call.
April 4, 2023 10.02pm
rhymezone.com and
howmanysyllables.com
8 syllables per line except the last(5)
164 words
197 syllables
915 characters
*Only my First try of this poetry form.
Weird, strange, illusion, dream, nonsense; words plenty since ever
To overcome fear, avoid confusion, maintain commonsense or whatever!
But this story of mine is an experience I record as game of nature;
Revisiting it, wondering on the hows and whys over the years as I grew mature.
The answer only he held; the one who wished to live life careless and carefree!
Then one day he sunk in the marsh and died, setting her widowed mother free
As if of all frustrations and reproaches from kin, peers and so many in the locality!
A good soul he had met once who admonished him, patiently
And left him in some good hands who could guide him start anew.
He tried to change but at his own time, as of what was in future he had no clue.
What thoughts in mind and what visions froze in eyes closing to death? One phone call to the good soul after a year; as if from other realm, a message.
His name he left, saying to tell that good soul he had called; was it a presage?
That good soul ready ever to help called a friend who related to him in melancholy;
That very morning, he had been to the boy’s one year after death ceremony!
The good soul sat in shock; he didn't even know about his death a year back.
In trance he walked to his fiancée's house; over night he talked to her about him, in flashback!
(I wrote a short story on this. Based on true experience in 1993, some months before my wedding. It was during the “Pitra Paksh” (Fete des morts in Hindi) – here we are actually in this period which ends on 1st oct 2016. The boy met my fiancé, a youth worker, who had some words with him and his family. He never met him again. Among Hindus the final after death ceremony is performed after one year of death and it is believed that the soul, if not departed earlier, has to after the last and final ceremony)
Mom writes polemics, when a cause grasps her heart
She's a good soul and wants to do her part
A journal took one, so she emailed it to friends
Then found that old age had brought many to their ends
Sometimes children answer back, or maybe a weary wife
They thank her kindly, talk about the hollow in their life
Sometimes they are left to cope alone
But there's always a rest for a rolling stone.
I viewed the emails she’s getting back
This one succumbed to a heart attack
This one had a blood disease, slow but sure
This one slipped on his driveway, could not endure
Her article makes waves, then just ripples in a lake
Tomorrow's news cycle and forgetfulness take
Does she make a difference in the trend flow?
The fish against the current who knew where to go.
I push Mom in a wheelchair, up a path in a park
We sit at the summit, and I rest on tree bark
There's a half-life to friends, it's hard to make more
As your boat approaches the terminal shore.
On her birthday we walked, I watched a hawk soar
Her cell phone rang, a shock was in store
It was the son of friend, a lady healthy and strong
She died that morning, it felt so wrong
She remembers when Dad died, its etched in her brain
He couldn't get words out, and we couldn't explain
The years spiral downward, and life's ripples fade
And yet for a time, a difference was made.
The roses are the best at the tree
The eyes on them rejoice
Gather the iris spree
Say Aah with the glee in the voice
When from the branches quite high
Someone plucks a few and then leaves
In a bunch on a tray on the sly
A little irritation under the sleeves
What I am not inclined to do for myself
A sky like attitude is doing that for me
Somewhat hesitantly I see it there on the shelf
But then on the flower there is also a bee
Out of the pink a heart incognito
The molecules of the love-laden mind
Rejoicing at the fact that I cannot say no
To the Premium membership and does it hiding behind
You are a good soul whoever you are
Though the difference doesn't matter much for me
In the harsh daylight you are in the hidden stars
Thank you for the cup of tea
April 12, 2018
Comrades, do you believe in heaven or hell surely? For this question, people like me, answer yes politely
I strongly believe in life after death mythologically Those who lived honorable on the earth naturally
After death,a good soul will fly to heaven successfully
The Soul is everywhere and in everything ,invisibly.
A good soul is welcomed by the angels actually
Which waits for him or her at the gate of heaven visibly
Heaven is a gift or award given people cordially. Who does good deeds on the earth as a human definitely Dishonorable person will go to hell truly.
Who is received by demons or evils eagerly
which wait for him or her at hell's entrance unwillingly. Punishment is given to the people coporally Who does wrong deeds on earth inhumanly
Do good while existing on the earth loyally
Don't bother about the heaven or hell merely
A good deed is advocated by all the religions strictly No one is ready to support the wrong deeds silly Understand the moral of the mortal journey promptly.
How great is our God! Let it be clearly understood
All Mighty is the Ascendent of all things Good.
He is restoring our suffering Nation
Through the strength of one immovable man
Who will not be swayed from the vision of greatness
God gave him for our beloved and cherished land.
From the beginning of Her inception we have held
The same heartfelt desire for Peace, Prosperity and Hope.
Our Vision of Freedom is released through sacrifice
Freely given from Patriots as Love flows from our souls.
To those destined to lead, the obstacles are made very clear,
Evil and madness embedded, entrenched never prevails.
Through weakness and fear, the Opposition tries to defeat us
With shocking and unnatural forces, and violent assails.
God sees every assault upon our Nation, Her people and land
By those falsely bleating their self-righteous and immoral stand.
They are dripping with venom and hatred for every good soul,
Yet our great God protects us against their raging vitriol.
He leads us upon the path of Righteousness as we follow His call
To defend our fractured Nation and keep Her safe for all.
How great is our God! He delivers us from evil,
Restores us with His Grace and renews our Hope and Trust.
We will not be conquered by the sins that abound
And accepted as normal by the far leftist hounds.
God is the Infinite Power that is steering our Nation now,
And we are forever grateful He is turning us around.
His principles strong, President Trump holds fast
To the morals and actions that keep America first.
No longer called the disgraced, degraded and deranged;
Never again will She be derogated, relegated the last.
How great is our God! Who has shown forth His Light
And raised a battalion of worthy leaders ready to fight.
United and hopeful, we stand as one, unafraid
Holding steadfast to the promises of Peace we have made.
From this moment forward we are resolute and strong.
Let “How Great is our God!” be our rousing anthem.
We, the ReUnited States of America, have a new victory song.