Long Growing Poems
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It was 1949.
Slow music was playing on the radio.
A young, handsome fast-talking 24 year old named Dick was driving around small town Iowa in a yellow convertible with red interior, feeling pretty cocky until his car went off a bridge and he found himself on foot.
He had not been on foot since he was 16, and he was pretty pouty about it.
Let’s go to the skating rink, a friend said.
He was about as interested in skating as he was interested in staying home on a
Saturday night, to listen to the radio.
The friend kept hounding him, trying to lure him there with the promise of pretty girls, cheap pop, snacks, finally breaking him down because there was nothing else to do, on foot.
Dick had to scramble over many years of junk in the shed, and open a multitude
Of boxes before he found his skates.
By the time they arrived, he’d set his mind hard against having a good time.
Until this tiny waif of a girl with snapping brown eyes started showing off her skills.
She was doing circles, figure eights, dizzy lous, and pretty sallies, skating around the floor with the expertise of a nymph, turning herself backwards, forwards and upside down.
The competition was now on. Dick laced up those skates lickety split.
He could not wait to show her his skills.
She was young, focused, and not interested in the least.
She was the champion ignorer of all times, and it drove him nuts.
Pretty soon he was hanging around the office where she worked, daily, trying to get her to look up.
She ignored him there too.
He told me the story and I laughed.
She ignores you at home too, Dad, I told him.
She didn’t even look up.
~The Cradle~
Leafless arms extend full length.
Embracing in their curves an empty cradle
Tucked into a cozy arbor still lingering
With the scent of apple blossoms full grown
Crafted from borrowed twigs, a stolen yellow ribbon and
Pillows of soft green moss
That cradled three tiny eggs, color borrowed from the sky,
Growing into a promise of soaring into sunlight,
Waiting within the guardian
Now dreaming through frozen nights -
Sanctuary, decorated with frozen dew,
Quietly brooding-
Ready to receive the kiss of Heaven’s blessing -
Listening for the flutter of first heartbeats
And newborn wings –
Hope giving birth
When daylight lifts up hands to push aside the darkness,
Witness of the cradle born again
From borrowed twigs, a stolen yellow ribbon
Redecorated with pillows of soft moss.
When everything starts going awry
No qualms in acceding to a special mortal, no matter how grouchy
All gospels on controlling sentiments go down the drain
Blessed and cursed simultaneously like an ounce of hydration in a desert of sand
Seemingly the only logical thing
Belies all the comments on being just a fling
No matter how much bereavement it brings
It is the least ransom one can afford in love from which sightseers cringe
Getting enraptured by it
Even on loosing precious moments one feels most fit
Hope sapped by the fact
As it doesn't seem right
Still unable to curb
Though one tries with might
Only consolation in prenominal testament
That the chosen one is in sight
Prays for divergence from feeling atrabilious
And to channelise energy for what is more precious
Spring menu of snowdrops, daffodils, dandelion, crocus and anemones
Each color blossoms the beauty swaying inside a breeze dancing thoughts
The image of spring changed colors roaring never thought my heart might burst
Within waves blowing kisses warmly touching the heart in endless bliss
The moment the sun draws the mist form the sea to the skies feels magical
Your footprints on deep sands fluttering wings of an angel beaming sunshine
Under the wing of an angel you will find safety, happiness and beauty
Held within a gasping breath your love true and complete beautiful
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen 17.03.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Soft and fragile, the black petals lay.
A hand plucked it, tucking sorrow in its pocket.
A venomous sting struck the chest;
desperate, agonized, the body convulsed.
Shallow breaths lingered—
pain devoured the blood of the soul.
Prickings gnawed at flesh;
a scream rose for release, alone.
The rose mocked the trembling frame,
whispering: “Pass me on.”
Its constraints laid bare,
it warned of bleeding more petals
for the next to bear.
The offered chance was welcomed,
unaware of the treachery it held.
Since then, the hurt loops endlessly,
leaving a black, glimmering petal
upon each bosom.
The cursed rose still hunts a worthy hand;
humans pass it on,
wrapped in bruises and despair.
Everyone bears a petal now—
while one shoulders
the ever-growing curse.
And the black rose waits…
for the final heart to shatter.
Within society turning around eyes
a political scandal is coming soon
as world powers begin to shift
Judas where evil's growing stronger
so much deception covered up
A manifestation of wickedness
under a chalice of wrath and tyranny
grace inside peace threatened
Crusades a tide is marching forward
Our mission there is no lines drawn in the sand
Unholy dark entities read the signs
under a political realm scheming
We are rising from the ashes
having being burned by fire reborn stronger
As a generation of lost souls
polluted with garbage lies
now calls upon the Dove
commander of Heaven's army
to manifest through the water's spilled
We all know God
is answering our prayers
Spirit of his Divine freedom
your Heart spills under warm angel rays
Immaculate pure
Salt of salvation anointed spice awakening
light we see the demons falling beasts
before our eyes in a secret circle
societies ring becoming exposed openly
Who reject the Gospel
I Worship His will to be
Instruct us how to cast out these demons
As now the good fight tears down the darkness
and its kingdom starts to crumble
beginning to split this world wide open
showing us hell's soldiers
Borders are ordained by God
From suffering we gain wisdom
isolated I am for years and injustices has shown me
The true wolves underneath the sheep's clothing
I call for
our nations to hold
on to their cross
Our mission has begun
to call upon our faith's vision
to see women and children bleeding
upsets deeply hurts
Things are going to change
powerful sources are rising
beasts amongst men
under their lizard skin
they are all set to fall
without a second wind
plotting against us
Behind the doors, behind the glass.
Who's your neighbor beyond the grass.
Paper boy delivers the news.
Barely pays to buy his shoes.
Who's your neighbor down the street.
They're usually gone before you meet.
How ya doin's not the same.
Years ago, least we knew their name.
Empty pages of years gone by.
Fills the book as we ask why.
Trees keep growing up and older.
While their cool shade seems colder.
Who's your neighbor as you ride by.
You nod as you avert your eye.
My neighbor's me in my reflection.
Longing to make that re connection.
For the Who's Your Neighbor contest.
The cadent curls recede upon the shore,
with fizzle sounds like brushes on a drum,
their once brave tune declined forevermore,
beneath the growing shades of a beach plum.
The shadow fingers stretch along the beach,
to close the eyelids of a sleepy sun,
on the horizon nodding her last speech,
her closing song, as her best time is done.
Yet, she leaves fervent images behind,
reprints of joyous moments on the sand,
or backwash from tides pounding so unkind,
a montage of love sketches super grand.
Before the final twilight curtain’s drawn,
seek to bask in the wonders of each dawn.
Time has flown by. Much of your life
you've spent denying all the strife.
But you can never answer why
much of your lifetime has flown by.
Hand each sad tale you write in. Long,
ambiguous, verbiage strong -
saved in your mind. You never fail -
you write in longhand each sad tale.
Verse of the truth? Such is the con
that you have staked your life upon,
as though you never lost your youth.
Such is the converse of the truth.
Come to believe you need an out
from all that causes fear and doubt
Ask for the truth; you will receive.
You need an outcome to believe!
Come, be that one that you can be
Embrace this as your destiny:
Be all (when all is said and done)
That you can become. Be that one.
I am writing the words I do not have the courage to say out loud
I need to ask you for something, something I don't want
I don't want you to bring home junk food, please don't bake so much either
I know this is your love, giving me what you lacked, growing up poor
No birthday celebration, no Christmas candy, but you are drowning me
Chaining me in a dungeon of dessert, holding me captive in a castle of cake
And I can not say no, can not refuse your love, for I can not bear
The broken look in your eyes, but you are filling me with shame
Of my own flesh, the smug superior judgement of my peers
The embarrassment of the plus-size section.
You are weighing me down with stones of sugar, and I know
For you they are comfort, they are care
But for me they are obstacles
And all they do is slow me down.
8/13/18