Long Gushes Poems
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God, I am overwhelmed within me,
But you are merciful everlastingly
You release your sincere spirit of shameless serenity
And you wash me thoroughly with it wholeheartedly,
For I've been lost for many a year
I must grin in gladness ear to ear
Fill my bathtub with cheer,
Oh waters of Aphradere
I am content, but down low once more…
I've been brought low, but what for?
I have been troublesome to the core,
For change has been a challenging chore
Engulf yourself into the iridescent island of haven
Eager to reach the highest point in this darksome den
Empathy is in your elevating eyes of mirth
Escape with me to paradise, away from Earth
Drowning in the waters of Aphradere
What's been lost has been lost for many a year
I want to get out of here…
I want to get out of here…
Drowning in the waters of Aphradere
What's been lost can be found, my darling dear
I want to get out of here…
I want to get out of here…
Cheer up, oh sorrowful waters...waters...
Paint a smile upon your sons and daughters
You utter words of wisdom and it gushes so beautifully and oh so bright
You utter words of lost love and it brushes against me day and night
I am disheartened by the removal of your heart against my own
I am discouraged by the disapproval of our togetherness and making very little progress in the making in this bottomless mess
I am on my own in the woods of my meandering mind, feeling alone
I am disdained by the departure of our happiness, abandoned and left behind in the wilderness of meaningless distress
Drowning in the waters of Aphradere
What's been lost has been lost for many a year
I want to get out of here…
I want to get out of here…
Drowning in the waters of Aphradere
What's been lost can be found, my darling dear
I want to get out of here…
I want to get out of here…
I fear for you, my dear…
Shed not a single tear…
Words were meant to fill the grief-stricken solitude
So, let go and let live...
Waters draw near as we meet our mesmerizing interlude
Let happiness and hope appear
Steer your way out of turbulent seas of Aphradere
It’s the circle of a trickle sliced from snow
at the mountain’s very top.
Widening and lengthening, it gushes and grows,
and at the steepest slopes it rushes - cascading
as a froth of diamonds
sparkling in sunlight.
Splitting where big boulders sit,
it splashes on its drifting way.
Shifting - ever shifting - it tumbles
over countless stones and gravel
or meanders with susurration until at last,
it is a river.
Broad or narrow; shallow or deep,
it can be tempestuous at times,
while other times
it’s as placid as
patches of mellow moonlight spilled from sky.
At last it flows to where, estuarine,
it melds with the destiny of other river shifters -
Oceanic.
June 23, 2021
for The Shape Of Water Poetry Contest
Now for 'A Brian Strand July 2' Poetry Contest
Overflowing with love describes me well
Thought by now the fire would die
Uh-uh, no-no, not a chance of that happening
Still filled with that love stuff inside
Love sees a lot of changes through life
But one thing always remains constant
It's a perpetual desire to love one another
Recognizing love in an instant
Been down that road more than once
But some things you never forget
Love is the answer no matter the question
We discover on life's perilous trek
I can honestly say throughout my journey
Had more than my share of crushes
But for you my sweet, my love stays constant
I still tingle and my heart still gushes!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Overflowing with love describes me well
Thought by now the fire would die
Uh-uh, oh-no, not a chance of that happening
Still filled with that love stuff inside
Love sees a lot of changes through life
But one thing remains quite constant
It's a perpetual desire to love one another
Recognizing love in an instant
Been down that road quite a few times
But some things you never forget
Love is the answer no matter the question
We discover during life's perilous trek
Can honestly say throughout my journey
Had more than my share of crushes
But for you my sweet, my love stays constant
Still tingle and my heart still gushes!
Long retired now; but the
clock yet plays a paramount
roll, when it comes to daily
activities -- still not my
own boss: Doctor's have
schedules, fiber intake for
out-go, often unpredictable;
sign on my toilet door, "Soon
to be occupied!"
Drops of days
have become gushes, rushes
toward an unknown horizon;
the sun now a flicker
like those old black and white
cinema I saw in the theater
as a youth, till the bulb went out,
and the boos and stomping
began...doubt that I would
notice most loud clamor anyway --
all my senses a lot duller
except an increasing tremor of
fear I hide --
climbed a balcony this morning,
a short one --
the old Juliet in a sun-chair,
doing her crossword, fondly
looked up: the smile was distant
but familiar~ her words soothing
and reassuring: "what's a
4 letter word for 60 years, in
sickness and in health loyally
shared?"
Our dad drives with the recliner down like a waterbed as uncapped bottles of water gushes down. My older sister putting on her third face now, none of it hides her stuck-out tongue at me. My older brother still thinks I'm invisible. Not mom, she only sees me, "Did you break this, or, did you spill this?"
It's one of those 'Blackouts', it seem to be a bit more as I get older. I am getting up a bit bolder, they say that it is a good thing munchkin getting a agronot badge so I can put on my spacesuit. Soon I'll be able to shoot for one of those starry twinkly pads way up there twinkling away.
They'll be getting me ready for those receiving pads up there, but here on Earth we just have the launching pads just around the bend. Still blackout, and pretty much Indian country here they think this whole place is scared land. It's not scared land, it's sacred land. Well it's scary now with it been blackout all this way.
We can see the tall behemoths standing in the shadows pointy noses all seeing circularity's silhouettes destination bound for that moon, or Kalamazoo. Tough being four, Kalamazoo? Yeah, that's Indian for where all the injured animals crawl to die when the Indians go during the hunt.
GOOD, I will take the spirits of the animals with me, like troopers, and I will take them to the happy hunting grounds in the sky.
As the wind gushes through the pane,
she jots down crystal-clear memoirs
from a flawless hand, still radiant;
while tendrils of a past causes
flushed eyes to melt in the glass of evening.
Then pausing between emblazoned lines,
a web of sagas transports her musings
in a village where life details the ache
and glory of unwanted farewell;
the summer air turning blooms into molds
as new autumn's lungs exhale without crisp sounds.
Quietly, Aunt Jenny folds the sepia-book
to gaze at the beauty of twilight,
where cloudburst fades like distant remains...
then, washing the pale mist of yester-years,
she breathes in solace: a woman freed
by putting a name to her own unfurled dream,
ready for rain’s music of tamed sleep
when a nightingale drifts from a branch,
quiet, quiet as feathered reverie.
(c)
Must Be Read Contest
For Silent One
Warm rain gushes from the bright sky,
to free all clouds of their heavy weight
and nourish everything below...
even the dry beak of a sparrow;
we didn't ask for it and yet
it came unexpectadly
to end our physical thirst...
another reminder of mercy!
The thirsty crows invade
the drenched meadows,
once so dried-out and yellowed,
to resemble an arid desert;
water sustains life on this planet...
and allowes the low rivers to overflow
when winter can't bring any snow;
then...is all hope useless?
There'll be lots of beautiful flowers this spring,
even those silent bells will joyfully ring;
a brighter sun will radiate...
illuminating our path until evening:
so much joy in our singing,
a perfect time to meditate!
Warm rain gushes from the bright sky,
surprise sparkles in the unbeliever's eyes;
doubts make us unhappy and weak...
considering the dark side of things!
Vision makes us soar above the awesome stars,
while despair causes our souls to die!
Concealed molluscs, meek individuals
Perceptive to truth, empathy prepared
Fluoresce lucid, optimism pivotal
Giving as elastic, mosaic paired
Transferred concern, coral breath resplendence
Secrets swapped free of harm, their hearts hallowed
Precious shells combine in fresh resemblance
Fitting finality, fearless, exposed
Chrysalis moths makeshift shelter is shed
Protective floss fractures, folds out clover
Flutter dust fluff to fantastical wed
Glee gushes as freedom speeds them over
Stream nods softly toward sea expansion
Together tonic in strong salt sanctum
28th February
For First of March
Wedding
He loiters in shadows in line for no harp
The tools of his trade all surgically sharp
He slices their throats before they start yelling
The Lord knows his name but the Lord isn’t telling
So prowling these lanes seeking hooker or stripper
To bolster the legend of Mister J Ripper
He skulks in the gloom, an All Hallows’ day tripper
His yen to splay female flesh wide like a kipper
Thus, nervous and pretty with Lilly-white skin
Her blood gushes free from just under her chin
A flash of a blade in the moonlight is made
And she lies agape and ravaged and flayed
His lust and sick love precludes notions of rape
He melts in the night with a swish of his cape
They don’t understand so they call it a crime
But Jack will be back... at least one more time
But there’s no monopoly on London’s streets
And angel or Satan... everyone eats
Yet too many nutters the law cannot track
So, why not blame all of the carnage on Jack
And when Jack returns to a lust fuelled delight -
(A lady who markets her wares in the night)
A chilling voice whispers, ‘Wrong alleyway bud’
And the Vampire moves in to savour Jack’s blood
4 May 2021
Contest: A Poem of Horror
Sponsor:Funom Makama