Long Grateful Poems
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"Tread softly because you tread on my dreams", William Butler Yeats
Self-preservation is perhaps the first instinct known to all species.
Sometimes, the rescue will break forth from various sources, but it
is virtual anathema to think that we were made to be fully dependant on any but the creator. We can even be expectant of an occasional soft touch, but we quickly discover that we were born with basic selfish instincts and equipped to do very little for ourselves. Hence, the deep need for others and thus, the vital importance of 'MY SAY' in the manner of my reception of service.
Dreaming is a lot about development and formation, which often occur in the early stages of the dream at a level of unhardened barriers, weak walls, and shaky foundations. That is why dreams have to be nourished and protected at all costs like newborn babes.
Our plan and purpose are unique, and no one more than I can see the dangers to my talent, my skill, my calling, to my most sought after dreams.
MY DREAMS are tender and slightly rooted. So can you be more sensitive and caring when critiquing my feeble efforts? These are MY DREAMS. So would you tread softly as a skilled physician would with slow and sure hands of healing? Feel free to offer direction to my novelistic feet, but please do not wreck MY DREAMS before they have an opportunity to launch to flights yet unknown? Observe MY DREAMS, offer them fuel for extra milage, and give them water to quench their thirst. For this, I would be extremely grateful, but anything less would be gravely unacceptable.
012920PoSpCtest, Famous Poetic Lines That Inspire, Silent One
Winter is a deadly companion to those of us
who stay behind. Spring is not guaranteed, only
a lonesome song, frozen on the lips of my
fellow crusaders.
The tip of the spear belongs to the "Ice Warrior"
Camouflaged under a dusting of snow, ink black
like the night or mind bending off sun glare,
always eager to send cars sailing and people
falling. I was one of the lucky ones...I fell
on ice and broke my arm.
I knew I would see Spring...first paying a
painful
toll. Political insanity mostly fills the front
page in Winter, the truth of those lost forever
to its treachery only whispered in the "B"
section.
Those of us who survive for one more Spring
and Summer bare a different attitude than our
fellow snow birds.
You'll see us standing alone among forest
wildflowers...or sitting quietly on a dolomite
boulder overlooking Lake Superior.
Oblivious to all but our grateful senses,
humbled
by
our
fragile
existence.
Minnesota Winter 2017
My Lord and I have a history, and through Him, I have victory.
His Presence is no mystery, but is always embracing me,
Creating intimacy and making me feel safe and totally free.
Anytime I have felt like a troubled sea,
His word has always calmed and stabilized me.
His church has made me feel that I truly belong.
His steady Spirit has kept me strong.
I always know where to run when I am wrong.
Into His loving arms, I can always find a song.
Regardless of how long, unfair, or how hard the test,
In His sanctuary, I always experience my haven of rest.
Even when I grow weary and worn, and my patience wears thin,
Like the gentle chimes near my window pane, slightly touched by the winds,
He always speak to me in the soft tones of a whistle, and my soul is soothed.
I'm grateful that His written word balances me so that I never need be fooled.
082820PSCtest, Alliteration Regarding Relationship With God, Beata Agustin
First Place
They came with dust on their boots and a morning star,
Shadows of boyhood still clinging to their shoulders—
They were sons of the land, faces bright with the dew,
Carrying small, cherished photographs in their breast pockets.
They rose with the sun’s trumpet call at dawn,
A summons to arms, to fear, to death—
Yet they did not tremble,
They carried the burden like a hymn on their lips.
Mothers with hands trembling at kitchen sinks
Counted each day as an offering—
Each letter a balm, each silence a wound.
Their prayers rose with the smoke of factory chimneys.
The beaches were gardens of iron and flame,
Where the sea’s voice met the cry of youth—
The soil drank of their blood,
And the wind carried the story homeward.
O Freedom—your price is the soft hush of sacrifice,
The echo of a last goodbye in the night—
They sleep in quiet fields now,
Their names folded in the flag’s bright embrace.
Pride blooms in the hearts of those they left behind—
A tender ache, a candle that will not be quenched.
We walk in their footsteps, grateful and small,
Ever humbled by the price they paid for us all.
I was beyond bereft!
With very little money, sure, we had a small place.
But no cash nor tree nor presents nor food were to
be.
I cried a lot, so did my daughter.
I prayed very hard for some kind of answer.
Then I recalled "Operation Blessing"!
They wanted a complete list of what I needed.
It was long indeed, including a tree, a turkey, food
for an empty pantry,and toys for my daughter.
They told me to trust God and stop my crying.
It was a relief for me to know I was trying.
There was no plethora of jobs, then, as there are now.
Nor were lowest income earners having an 8% increase
hidden by the media mogul cows
And we were in a recession, then.
"Operation Blessing" came to our humble place.
I had been truly blessed by God's holy grace.
First they brought in a six foot,live, fully decorated tree!
In my daughter's eyes, I saw such happiness and glee!
The turkey was a Tom, hence more than generous.
All the trimmings, too. Plus other foods to fill my barren
kitchen cabinets.
Toys came next, plentiful,all beautifully wrapped.
My hopelessness disappeared knowing the world is so
generous and way far from crass.
Many organizations are doing good this season,
After all there is a reason!
People are cooking for the homeless all day across this
wonderful nation. Shelters are open.
Groups are cleaning up tent cities!!
Oh, no! Forbidden for you to know.
The painting of rich crushing the poor,
Is the center of the political boors.
Do what we can in money or in person!
Christmas is about His love, His birth.
Share your time and care and love with those who may
have less.
I learned that Christmas, to be humble and stop complaining!
To do for others, to tithe, to contribute.
To be grateful for what little I had.
And to ask when I needed help.
There are seniors living in nursing homes, go visit them,
their relatives won't!
How about badly wounded veterans, who lost limbs for you?
Can you spare them an hour or two?
Make this Christmas not about you.
It's a transformational experience,
I promise you!
December 10, 2019
President Elect Alexandria Ocasio Cortez - 2024
Circa...Approximately one month
following her thirty fifth birthday
October 13th, 2024
AOC became the first
female commander in chief,
and youngest person ever
to assume Oval Office
amidst landslide victory
among competing candidates
ousting current establishment incumbent,
elected to serve United States
despite being neophyte,
she received most
votes of any contender
since founding of Democracy
to assume modestly furnished
Capitol Hill - Washington
District of Columbia
most powerful post
within the United States
immediately electrifying North America
with her megawatt smile
crackling, snapping, and popping
with positivity, integrity, energy...
Deafening applause swept across nation
upon ascending dais prior to uttering one word,
she immediately wowed
darling of the hour received standing ovation
across greensward donned bajillion crowd
cheering, imploring, pumping...
green sleeved fists acclamation
action speaking decibels
louder than words bowed
young lady brought to genuine tears,
asper bona fide accreditation
understandable that newly
minted ma'am felt proud
to stride rite, (an air of modest
confidence) did enshroud,
sans an angelic halo augmenting
as optimistic words heard aloud
heralded sincere charming, intimating,
radiating... no frills accustomation
as if pledging troth to every citizen
(inclusive every flora and fauna) vowed
to steer ship of state toward ecologically,
environmentally, essentially...activation
away from fossil fuels shifting energy
consumption vis a vis alternate modalities
sow rejuvenation plowed
back into Earth prioritizing monied allocation
(dollar amount well worth investment) actualization,
where future generations will be grateful
to dead recent forebears for gift endowed
worth more than fine spun gold regarding
preservation of Gaia, how *****sapiens adaptation
made existence for all living creatures
(animals, plants, even this fungi) healthier allowed
populace to breathe easy and rest assured
quality of life for billions (ushering universal
family planning), despite tense adjudication,
especially when linkedin with
nuclear warheads disavowed,
but eventually kickstarted synergistic administration.
Sometimes in the morning when you first wake up
Before you stretch your mind, your body in bed
Before your thoughts get on whirling, hacking, quacking
Your seconds, minutes, time passes away fluttering in your head
You realize this new day dawn you could have been dead
You need to think
To save yourself from yourself
It's a Brand New day
And before you get on your way
You're refreshing your thoughts shouts out your mouth
You close your eyes, you kneel and pray and you talk to the Father
Talk to the Savior ask Him
Oh! God I'm thankful
Thankful you granted me this one new day
Thankful that I need to pray to you
Thankful to be able to talk to the Father and Jesus
Thankful and grateful you've awaken me
And you placed me on another days journey
Awaken me to have another's days life
Thanks for another daylight
In conclusion to thankfulness I am for the same saying Hallelujah Hallelujah Amen
9/30/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Lord, I acknowledge Your grace* with thanksgiving
Along Your favor for my faithful cleaving
Subduing my pride and self-sufficiency’s vain striving...
While instructing me to offer to You my very best with sincere loving.
Always enable me to sacrifice joyously, grateful for the blessings I’m receiving.
Lord, I regard Your grace for my salvation’s honor
Along Your assurance of service-power ardor
Challenging my doubts and shameful valor...
While upholding my faith that’s performing by Your might’s fervor.
Always encourage me to abide in Your Word midst worldliness’ clamor.
Lord, I seek Your grace midst my worshipful praise
Along Your mercy to uphold me in the Christian race
Guarding me from tempters with all the weapons of deceit they raise…
While protecting me around Your peace, devoid of anxiety’s trace.
Always empower me to rejoice in You, enclosed in Your divine embrace.
*Psalm 84:11 For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.
August 22, 2019
Sweet dreams are fantastic and enchanting,
The golden wings of brightness are quite chanting,
The natural beauty of songbirds is like fairy dust,
In this dream, I broke down with joy and bust.
Oh, dream! The ominous curved shape was not scary,
Chimera! The vampire seemed merry,
Then the classic scary stigma of horror vampire,
Fear of satanic blasphemy grew as a damper.
Oh! I closed my eyes in horror at that terrible sight!
His hypnotic eyes stopped the trembling, awe-inspiring flight!
The Vampiric myth unsolved puzzle may be resolved tonight,
My heart raced as the ego chiseled my family's artistic heights.
There is tranquility and calmness in my head,
Trying to remember how beatific this time is ahead,
I am grateful to God for my golden vision,
which appears to be a wonderful envision.
A mysterious traveler from our odd planet,
At home, into the magical realm of sleep gamut,
In a dream, I filled out a waiver and escaped Vietnam,
And I joined the National Guard, my favorite aplomb.
My favorite subject at school was English Literature,
Dad said math and science were vital, not litterateur,
I focused on calculus and left grammar to my proclivity,
I learned to design technical visuals, not creatively.
We were labeled "baby boomers," but we were war babies,
It ensures the happiness of possible rivals abides,
Living in America exposed me to a touch of pioneer history,
Technology and industry drive us forward through mystery.
The dream ceased without falling for the intelligentsia,
She freed me from lethargy by having me fight inertia,
Without her, I could have abused booze and heroin,
It's simpler to surrender to laziness than to be a heroine.
I rode the conveyor to the consulting to provide luxury,
I wrote finance and tech books to show I hump Riff Poetry,
Now I am in search of mystical sights and cosmic vibes,
When the writing is over, I shall resume painting the jibes.
The most exciting dreams are abruptly interrupted,
When the sun's rays approached, rouse erupted,
Appealing experiences, from a need for sleep,
More people assumed occult esoteric creep.
1ST place contest winner
Written: September 15, 2022
The Mystical Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Dear Attorney Mollow,
The autumn winds rise soft around me, rustling the pages of my soul as I sit beneath a sky as tender as the heart you seem to carry.
I look upon the beauty of this life, the fleeting sweetness of days unfurling like petals on a rose, and my heart swells with gratitude—for it all, Atty Mollow, for the quiet joys and even the sorrows that shape us.
This life is a song, and I, merely a note, vibrating in harmony with the unseen chords of existence.
I have often written of sadness, of longing, but it is in the quiet moments that I have found something deeper—gratitude that rises from the earth itself.
For it climbs within me, filling every hollow, every empty space that once echoed with yearning, my soul.
I am grateful, Atty Mollow, for the mornings gilded with light, for the whispers of nature that have sung to me since childhood, and for the connection between souls that transcend time and space—such as ours.
How fortunate we are, not just to live, but to feel, to witness beauty in the delicate weave of the world.
I sense in you the same wonder, the same deep-rooted thankfulness for what is and what might yet be.
Do not let your heart grow heavy with the weight of the world's troubles, for they, too, are threads in the grand tapestry.
Each moment, each breath, is a gift. How could we be anything but grateful?
From the bottom up—from the soles of my feet, grounded in the earth, to the crown of my spirit, reaching toward the stars—I am grateful.
I think you understand this truth, for it pulses in your words, in the way you move through this life with quiet grace and reverence.
If this thought could I think to a Judge,
I am great full.
May your heart continue to rise like the morning sun, shining its light upon all that it touches.
With gratitude,
James McLain