Long Greatest Poems
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Mid-Eastern Tales 3
Curtis Johnson
Long, long ago, before the Super Bowl, popcorn, and potato chips;
Yes, long ago, there lived a king in the Middle East.
His name was David, a very God fearing man,
and also a military general of the highest order.
He was loyal to his God, his country, and his soldiers. He also became his nation’s greatest hero of all times.
He was a gifted musician and a psalmist.
He was fearless and strong, but a sexual weakness
changed the course of his entire life and family.
Lastly, one other error in judgment aroused his God’s
displeasure. Because of his mistake, King David was compelled to make a choice of evils. Indeed, none of the choices presented to him were good ones.
Sometimes, we are also placed in situations, either by self, others, or God. In those often complicated and convoluted situations, we are forced to choose. There are no exit signs or ways of escape to take flight. The choice is not one of delight. However, responsibility demands that we choose.
10232016 cj Bible, 1&2 Samuel
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
Even though it feels somehow
like you’re already slipping away
I have to remember to tell myself
how blessed I am for each day
I love the ways you try so hard
to see the smile I keep
making up for all the time
we lost while you’re asleep
Still each day I’m anxious
for the time I get you back
‘Cause once you lay down on the couch
you’re out in no time flat
I miss the talks and all the laughing
like when we first met
to feel this change so early on
I never would have bet
We didn’t get the time we need
to see the seed we’d sown
Still mine will be the greatest love
you ever will have known
And when that time still bound to come
when you should take your leave
leaving me in sadness
with an emptiness to grieve
It feels as though you’re preparing me
to survive that awful day
through the numbing days of loneliness
when I feel you slipping away
~Jeannie Cronin
I can feel you
I can touch you
I crave you
I desire you
I want you so bad
I can't get enough of you
You consume me
I close my eyes
And you are there
I've conquered several habits
but you remain my addiction
You are my ultimate high
my greatest addiction
I need a fix………..
I need you to flow through my soul
But you are no good
You are my kryptonite
Like venom flowing through my veins
I may be sober
By I am not free of you
I need a fix
A quick fix
You are my happy place
Without you, I don't exist
You are the puppeteer
and I'm your puppet
Powerless to you control
and influence
You are the air that I breathe
But you are toxic
and polluted
The more I breathe you in
the more I disappear
I need a fix
A quick fix
How can I defeat you?
I need you
, but you are no good for me
If I stay with you, I shall really die
Where is the silver lining?
I want to live
But you are my life
I want to stay positive
but you bulldozed my positivity
I can't beat you
As long as you exist
I am forever defeated
You are my happy place
and my quick fix
I need you to flow through my veins
for you are my ultimate addiction
and all-time high
Alexis Y.
1-03-2021
Charity*: God’s love**, abundant and free
Offered by the Lord, perfectly sublime
Paid by Christ’s blood of sacrifice-degree…
Having owned it; I enjoy my faith-climb!
Genuine compassion, radiant with truth’s light
Bringing hope’s bliss – gloriously triumphant
Exemplified by the Saviour’s grace-might…
Reaching my heart, I yield as His servant!
Heavenly touch that soothes pain, angst and woes
It conquers my fears, anxieties-travails
Assured by His Word that conquers sorrows…
I’m moved to share His mercy that prevails!
Granted by God’s love with sweet peace incense
I thank Him, living in His care’s presence.
*1Corinthians 13:13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
**1John 3:16 Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.
March 5, 2019
1st place, "I Got a Darn NA Again" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Lu Loo; judged on 7/1/2019.
My anticipation mounting as I walk into the lobby
A trip to the theatre is my greatest love, my hobby
With feelings of great wonder and excitement overflowing
For only a calamity can really stop me going
With my expectations rising, well it isn’t so surprising
I am soaking up the auras of the souls long gone before us
Moving to the auditorium an usher guides me to my seat
I sit down slowly, looking forward to this special treat
The curtains looking sumptuous, rich and velvet, long and red
I await for them to part to see the magic that’s ahead
The excitement it is palpable, sends shivers down my spine
The curtains draw back slowly and the spotlight starts to shine
Clad in Japanese kimonos players enter from stage right
As a travelling musician plays his songs into the night
For he’s in love with Yum Yum and his name is Nanki Poo
For the son of the Mikado this betrothal is taboo
The music becomes louder, my heart it beats so fast
As the show begins and transports me way back into the past
But all too soon the end is nigh, the audience still on a high
Joyous and exuberant and sad they have to say goodbye
Returning to the stage Players bowing one by one
Audience cheering loudly for the fine work they have done
I stand and clap and share with them my great appreciation
Wondering how they feel about our mutual admiration
An Actor’s life, it surely has to be a dream come true
It also has to be the hardest thing for one to do
For witnessing an Actor at the peak of their career
Is the ideal way to spend a day, the perfect panacea
written 8th September 2017
9th May 2021
Contest Name The Audience Falls Silent
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Strand Choice L
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Contest Your first poem on Poetry Soup
Sponsor Silent One
FIRST PLACE
Contest Name Impress me with an old poem
Sponsor Poet Destroyer A
8th October 2020
No 1290
Sponsor Brian Strand
See the greatest poets of all time
the circus of poems had come to town
with many a form, verses and rhymes
People came to unravel the sublime
mysteries and myths came to be known
see the greatest poets of all time
Poems about nature, cowboys, and crime
people came from all around
with many a form, verses and rhymes
Windy verses of seas of brine
there were even quatrains on clowns with frowns
see the greatest poets of all time
Haikus, senryus, and ballads were fine
limericks on ladies dressed in brown gowns
with many a form, verses and rhymes
If words were edible many would dine
a feast most satisfying and profound
see the greatest poets of all time
with many a form, verses and rhymes
I hear a voice in the dark of night
I hear it speak my name
‘Tis but a whisper, soft yet clear
By which it did my soul ignite
Though I know not whence it came
‘Prithee, child, come with me
See the blessed life of eternity’
I yearn for that glorious promise
Yet fear the deep dark yonder
Still I am drawn, the voice calls on
Though joy may seem as though amiss
Thence shall find the greatest wonder
‘Prithee, child, come with me
See the blessed life of eternity’
What then shall be, this journey to forbear
That which brought forth both dread and awe
Echoes resound, and this I found
That there awaits, past hope and despair
The radiant triumph, enduring, forevermore
‘Prithee, child, come with me
See the blessed life of eternity’
MY FATHER'S GENTLE HANDS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember my father’s hands as a plumber’s hands—fiercely strong, calloused, rough, knuckle-battered, and dirty after a long-day’s work. Those hands shoveled; unclogged drains and toilets; repaired leaks; and installed pipes, commodes, and bathtubs. Those hands provided.
I remember my father’s hands as a fisherman’s hands—perfectly patient, tenacious, self-confident, and unwavering as he held his fishing line and lure stabile, waiting for a fish to take the bait. “Keep your hands steady. Stay focused,” he prompted me when I asked him to teach me how to fish from his flat-bottom boat. Those hands fished longer than they ‘plumbed,’ rarely missing an opportunity to commune with nature, seldom losing a fish. Those hands fed.
I remember my father’s hands as a treasure hunter’s hands—firm, certain, and capable, listening intently to his metal detector’s tones learning to discriminate the sound a good coin makes compared to the choppy, broken sound a junk target makes. Those hands searched, discriminated, and found soulful answers to life’s complex questions and dilemmas.
I remember my father’s hands as gentle healing hands—kind and comforting as he wiped away the tears that sometimes streamed down my face. Without saying a word, those hands loved, consoled, and encouraged—always righting my world.
I remember my father’s hands—full of strength and hope as he took my trembling hands in his. Those hands gave me courage—the courage to reach up in search of everything impossible, leaving me with the unbridled sense that to do anything less was the greatest impossibility of all. Even now whenever I need courage, I can feel his hand around mine helping me to feel invincible once again.
In my mind’s eye, I often see my father’s hands—every line and every wrinkle. They told a story about the kind of man he was. I’ll remember my father’s hands for the remainder of my life. I’m grateful for him, for his enduring spirit and presence, which continues to grace my life despite his passing some years ago.
Dad's hands tell a tale
they did countless loving things
they touched and guided
they shaped and molded
they encouraged me to reach
they held the stars in place
they held rising sun
they sought deep understanding
they chased lonely moon
Middle aged man in Docs,
vintage leather jacket and
grey haired pubes around his cock.
Ill fitting tour shirts rekindling a hazy past.
Barrowlands, The Bunnymen. Hammersmith Odeon,The Clash.
U2 at University pre Bono crawling up his own ****.
Danced and hugged on stage with Terry Hall,
arrested for d&d outside Bradfords Great Hall,
after watching John Cooper Clarke supporting The Fall.
Life reinvigorated by the post punk explosion,
no longer searching the NME gig guide,
but a Spotify recommendation.
or an even sadder email notification.
A pre gig meal opposed to a walk home pie in a barm.
Ear buds for the tinnitus and Bisoprolol to keep calm.
Heartbreak to watch the talent unrewarded,
by a government devoid of a cultural foresight.
Stifled opportunities
through Tory Brexit lies,
Allowing the corporations of Cowles and the EMI’s to
reap million upon million,
leaving the grassroots unnurtured, venues struggling to stay open.
Our greatest export,
an industry broken.