Long Gotten Poems
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Janice Avery loved deep green nature; like cherry sunset owls, gawping.
She dwelt with her parents and Sissy, when old, golden days were walking.
They lived out in the hilly country, where orangeish stars could be seen;
And summer seemed to last forever, for days held a predominate sheen.
Noons were filled with happiness laughter, that foreshadowed pink moon.
Life was young, but blue world was old. Burgundy butterflies left cocoons!
Mauve fog was doing its fadeaway, as never failing, friends came calling;
When feisty fandango flowers flopped-in scent breezes, sweetly recalling!
Future blooms were dreaming buds, in the spring of faultless, family visits,
Via paths, lined with flowers of familiar hues. Birds sang in willow thickets.
Janice lived in the house of cool shadows, beneath lovely, sheltering oaks;
With colored birds at each window! Back fences, saw many tales and jokes!
Rich, raspberry sun lent sights to remember, on their road of blue flowers.
'Ere reverent night fell richly! Like marmalade change, expected in hours.
Numerous hued clouds were etched nebulously, on dusk skies, blackberry,
When nostalgic neighbors came fondly, as a turquoise moon rose, solitary.
'Midnight valentine' camillas felt Cupid's arrows, under yellow stars of thrall;
And 'Lady Margaret' passionflower vine, in burgundy, crept late to the ball!
'Gay goblin' flowers indulged red revelry, as 'brilliant lilies' rivaled the sun;
When 'sultry scarlet' blooms pined for sunset, like nostalgic noon, undone!
Janice was a birdwatcher, for she loved pretty songbirds' chirps and trills;
But, she wanted to see them up close! So, she put seed on her windowsill.
One day as she was entering the room, she saw a red cardinal, hopping;
And pecking her seed as he hopped. Janice ran, but he was not stopping!
Yet, Janice had gotten a good glimpse of red, like sunset skies, before dark;
With a shake he'd flown into azure sky, destnation garden, or green park.
Janice realized moments are precious, and the briefest, might be golden;
And those are the ones most likely to revisit, once twinkling time is olden!
'Once I saw a little bird
Go hop, hop, hop,
So I said: – little bird,
Will you stop, stop, stop?
Then I was going to the window
To say "How do you do?"
But he shook his little tail,
And away he flew!'
I fell in love with a Drunken Poet
When with light My Grail He fills
Lyrical Creativity intercourse with pen and paper spill
With Rhymes and reasons salutations
Filled so full, Colorful My imagination
Drunken poetry obliteration
He drinks sooo much, his touch Intoxicating
Slurry words with breath of sweet Rum
Penetrating and Pouring light until I succumb
He woos with words and stirs Me up
I have gotten addicted to his Liqueur syrup
Transporting my mind to Celestial Bliss
Overflowing with every Drunken Kiss
Drunk in Love, my heart Enshrined
Top shelf Libation pours, He wants me to Shine
He slurred" let go baby, I'm yours, You're mine"
I got sooo drunk, couldn't hold My liquor
Fondled My Pen, vomit on paper
He slurred, " Go on baby, it's best for your liver"
Now my speech is liquored sweet ingredients to my potion
Drunken poetry creative recreation.
Shout out to Elliott Bowe>>>creator of drunken poetry.
"The streams are my veins."
Can you hear the drum beats of fear as do I?
Does the mere sound of these fears make you want to CRY?
You don't want to believe it, and hope it's all a 'Big LIE'.
Whether true or false, it's best to bid our fears GOODBYE.
Some say that the 'best is yet to come', and others say
that the good old days are gone and never will return.
Some say that the 'worst is yet to come', and others say
that the good old days are gone, but better days are yet to come.
Yesterday is HISTORY, but today does not have to be a MYSTERY,
nor does tomorrow have to be filled with gloom, sorrow, and
MISERY. You did not pour the glass; whether half empty or half
full. Even when dealt cards we don't CONTROL, we still must be BOLD.
Even when we are often TOLD that the entire deck has been RIGGED;
Or that the troubled waters that we see below have no BRIDGE above.
Although not a brave one, it does appear that we stand on the precipice
of a new world? A brave world does not self-DESTRUCT, but finds ways and means to better its COMSTRUCT.
Can we leave the world into which we were born better than we found it?
Whether or not the future is misery largely depends on our belief system.
Have we a belief system that flows like a river unclogged, free and clear?
Or like a stream of fresh living waters gushing unhindered through a creek bed? I pray that I might be a conduit; and may the streams be my veins.
By a most reliable source, the Bible, we are told that 'we spend our years as
a tale that is told'*. In a movie, the words of one actor to another were,
"There's no normal life. There's just life".
Is the tale of my life being told presently;
Or must I fly away before the tale is told of me?
Me thinks it is both, but we write the tale presently.
If history repeats itself, perhaps it's because humans won't CHANGE.
If history repeats, perhaps we thirst for control and ill-gotten GAIN.
It is said that to repeat things, hoping for change, defines INSANITY.
Me thinks that life is not a 'crapshoot' but dominated by choices we make.
On a cross, one man chose and said, "If you BE....". Another man chose and said, "...Remember ME". *
080122PSCtest, Let your Muse Be Inspired-R Form, Constance La France
Contest Theme #2: "The streams are my veins." 4P
*Luke 23:39,42; Psalm 90
Not ever having gotten drunk before,
I drank tequila; then I drank some more.
The night got shorter. Wasted, then I saw
A tall dark cowboy stride into the bar.
The drinks kept flowing as he hit on me,
And now I have this vaguest memory. . .
I got up on the counter in high heels.
I think I’ve learned how Jimmy Buffet feels!
I think I did the can-can till I fell.
Both head and tail of mine now feel like hell.
And though I’m used to waking up with dread,
No dread compares to what lies in my bed!!
A smelly guy who now I have discovered
must use false teeth, for here they sit uncovered!
Worst morning after; now I’m feeling ill.
Where can I find a morning after pill?
(Hope everyone realizes this is pure fiction. LOL)
For Black Eyed Susan's The Worst Morning After
I'm a pathetic piece who deserves to die
So the world can finally be rid of my irritating existence
Do you ever recall uttering these words to me?
Among the other statements as well?
I thought you wouldn't
Let me refresh your memory
You told me that every ing day of my life
Every opportunity you have gotten, you uttered these words
Do you even realize how much suffering it caused me?
Of course, you wouldn't
You don't even care do you
Then again, did you ever care?
Or were you required to care for reasons?
Was it out of obligation?
Or was it something far more sinister?
Pretending to care to fool everyone that you were a loving person
But in reality, you weren't at all
I was right, wasn't I?...
Whatever your reasoning was, it doesn't matter anymore
I desire to have absolutely nothing to do with you anymore
And once the chains that bind us together are severed
I'll finally be rid of you
And hopefully onto the road to recovery
Marvellous* is the Lord Who loves you, my brother
Your blessed life is His precious gift, to Him you must yield…
Directing you to His victory, on the Lord You can depend
Empowering and enabling is His help everyday
Always available as to Him you call amidst afflictions and anxieties
Ready your soul to restore while your spirit, He revives…
Bring to God all your cares, as your faith He builds
Reaching to you is His love for service rejuvenation
Offering opportunities for prayer-fellowship optimization…
Trust His truth through His Word toward tested triumph
His promises herald assurance against issues of the heart…
Expect His grace to work in you as you cleave to Him earnestly
Resting in His might, as your thanksgiving sacrifice you gladly render…
Best is the Saviour’s provision; He is the Source of breath
Extending His mercy for meaningful pursuits of values eternal
Requiring you, His redeemed, to be faithful despite challenges’ rigor
Taking you along righteous trip toward great holy travel treats.
*Psalm 98:1 O sing unto the LORD a new song; for he hath done marvellous things: his right hand, and his holy arm, hath gotten him the victory.
January 15, 2020
My dear Brother Bert, A very blessed birthday to you. I love you; yet for sure, the Lord loves you more, and His care for you is the best!
I spent my childhood playing lots of softball.
It was one of the many things I was good at.
I played other sports, but I didn’t like them at all.
I felt most at home on the field with a glove and a bat.
As I got older, softball became my main focus.
I lived it, breathed it, and even dreamed it every day.
My friends and I were all aware what softball meant to us.
I always wondered what I’d do if I couldn’t play.
I was good enough to play softball in college,
And thus began what I thought would be a great career.
But the game ruled my life, and I always felt on edge.
“Who was I without softball?” was the question I’d fear.
During a game, I had a horrible injury.
My worst nightmare had now become a reality.
Very few ever come back after knee surgery.
My career was over and I felt I had no identity.
It’s been years, and I still haven’t gotten over it,
But I have moved on and done many other things.
I recently met someone who opened my eyes a bit.
He said, “You never know what open doors life can bring.”
He told me who I was wasn’t only on the outside,
But also how I saw myself in my heart and mind.
He said my real identity is on the inside,
And what’s important to others is what I leave behind.
I was looking out the window and saw my neighbor across the street on a ladder, putting up an American flag. Both he and his wife are school teachers.
I took that moment to go over and tease him. I asked if he was putting the flag up to honor my husband.
I have been living here for ten years, and they had never tried to be friendly, except when they needed something. They have two sons and two golden labs. They all-stay locked up in the house with the curtains drawn. If, someone comes and knocks on their door, they are greeted by two frantic and not-so-friendly sounding barks, that bump on the glass window, but their owners won’t answer the door.
They have a motion sensor light over the middle of the garage door. I told him that the flapping of the flag was going to set off the light all the time. He laughed; he hadn't thought about it. I purposely went over to tell him that my husband had passed away four months ago. He was shocked. He apologized and said he didn't know.
With tears, I turned and walked away. When I'd gotten to the edge of the driveway, the tip off my left sandal caught on the edge of the asphalt. The sandal stayed; my arms started flapping, like a young bird in its nest trying to fly. Flapping, flapping, I kept leaning forward, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Trying to righten myself, half-way to the other side, my other sandal flew off. I suppose I might have looked pretty funny, running to the other side, bending over like I was trying to catch a hat that had blown off my head. My arms still flapping, waiting for a landing, face first on the asphalt and the gravel under my feet. All I could think and see was the blackest tar and gravel rising to meet me, how painful it was going to be when my face kissed that dirty tar.
However, by some miracle, I had gotten to the other side of the road and caught my balance. With my heart pounding, my neck and back aching, and the bottoms of my feet sore, I survived not kissing the dirty tar and gravel. It was like God's angel spread its wings and wrapped them around me, and straighten me out. I should have had a very serious relationship with the first kiss, but not that day.
Thank you, Lord.
Thank you, Lord.
12/29/2018
I'd like to say it was just a dream but it was real.
The cops arrested me for passing counterfeit bills.
My bank gave me twenty one hundred dollar bills that were counterfeit.
When I found out, the police had to use tear gas because I had a fit.
After I cried like a two year old, i was thrown in jail.
I had to sell my body organs so that I could make bail.
But now they want my organs even though I'm not dead.
They don't intend to wait, they want them now instead.
I have no money to buy food and I feel light headed and giddy.
My electricity was cut off last night, those bastards have no pity.
Because I haven't eaten, I sure have gotten bony.
And it's because of that money that was phony.
When I can't pay the bill collectors, I constantly get hit.
Don't do business with my bank or you'll receive cash that is counterfeit.
When the Anders Gang came to Pitkin’s place,
Bent on murder, theft, and rape,
Amongst them rode a wanted man,
Known to the world as Chicago Sam.
He rode behind, guarding the rear
While the other dozen visited fear
Upon a family, old and young,
Doing everything to them under the sun.
For two hours until the neighbors came,
A horror on those folks was rained.
Until finally Anders heard the hooves
Of angry men racing to where they stood.
Anders gave a call, and they mounted all
And road away away towards mountains tall.
Though Sam hesitated and looked down
To a teenage girl laying on the ground.
Still alive somehow, though barely so
Her tattered clothes heaped in nearby shadow.
Her face was swollen, but Sam, he swore
That he looked into the face of sweet Glenore.
He shook his head and galloped away,
What he imagined there could never be.
Glenore was dead, and twice the age
Of the girl that he left there in pain.
But in the days to come, it nagged at him,
His last true memory free of sin.
The sight of his lost love lingered long,
And the memory of her voice, lifted in song.
It wasn’t his fault, what she did choose.
By her own had did her life she loose!
She should’ve seen then what he was,
A gambling life who lived life rough!
The mistakes had been hers to make,
To think his sins could be loved away.
If she’d only gotten that through her head,
She’d still be here, she’d be not dead.
He told himself this, over and over,
But kept seeing her image more.
He saw the sadness mar her sweet face
When with another he had laid.
He saw her body, so small and cold,
And reheard the words the marshal told,
The psalms of reverends at the end,
With all this weight did Sam content.
One night while he stood on watch,
He looked back on the sleeping flock
Of murderers, thieves, and rustler scum,
And though back upon all he’d done...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.