Long Heretofore Poems
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The search for atonement is real
to those that I’ve harmed
and can never repay
I settle with all that I feel
My poor broken heart would agree
I know i’ve been hurt
Yet. if honesty wins,
a few have been broken by me
Perfection, no human has known
but as I reflect
on life heretofore
I ponder bad seeds that I’ve sown
A victim perhaps, no, not quite
as thieving’s been tossed
on both sides of the coin
regardless of what’s wrong or right
It’s not that I’ve blocked out the sun
It’s just that I know
in the life that I’ve lived,
I’m sorry for some things I’ve done
The night is frosted glass.
Daylight’s clouds - restless like my love -
and scattered wildly heretofore -
somehow made a pact
to nimbly rearrange themselves.
Congealing in this chilling autumn eve -
translucent -
the clouds have blended in with dusk,
obliterating stars. . . and even shadows.
Luna, sad like me,
cannot transmit her moonlight
to cheer me.
Oh, to be again - bedeviled!
To see your unique come-hither smile;
to hear the sound of honey in your voice;
to feel that splendid tingle within me
as you shine your gorgeous eyes -
radiant upon me!
Where are you now, my love -
my sweet, alluring boy?
And where are the stars
that blazed for me within your eyes?
Where is the crystal nightfall
of my fondest dream?
Oh, to feel again. . . enraptured!
But not even the smallest gleam
of you remains.
And not even Goddess Moon
can penetrate
this deep abiding gloom.
The pale moon emerged from dark clouds, but I
cared not for its light or beauty it showed.
Grief overwhelmed me, yet I could not cry
though deep in my soul, my tears overflowed.
Oh Moon heretofore whose soft face was veiled:
Like me – had you been enshrouded by gloom?
I see over darkness you have prevailed,
yet here I still stand consumed by my doom.
My doom is in knowing true love has fled.
Beside my dear’s grave, I’ve no words to say.
With dark clouds I will be until I’m dead.
Unlike you, pale Moon, I wither away.
July 21, 2022
For Joseph May's One In Five 2 Poetry Contest
Used line #4 for inspiration: the pale moon emerged from dark clouds
News Or Expert Opinions
Tom’s View
12/3/2021
While I'm sitting here this morning airing my gripes,
the Media shows support for most Hollywood types.
Reporting in a manner heretofore unforeseen,
the liberal press is a propaganda machine.
Spinning most all stories to fit the left narrative,
a liberal slant seems to be, most imperative.
Unbiased journalist they're not, but they are two faced,
who lets not a political crisis, ever waste.
“You can’t always go by expert opinion. A Turkey, if you ask a Turkey,
should be stuffed with grasshoppers, grit, and worms”
Changing Times
Aethiopia is a land of exquisite beauty,
Inhabited by a princess worthy of its charms.
And the king her father thought it his duty
To boast of her glamour in spite of envious alarms.
So the lovely Andromeda sitting on the shore,
Her long hair waving seaward in the salty breeze,
Has been chained to rock by vengeance heretofore.
But the brave Perseus arrives and her he frees,
After slaying the sea monster with a vicious gore.
Now Andromeda is the goddess of all my dreams,
Who reigns supreme in the celestial sphere.
Her beauty is yet unique in the heavenly schemes,
And can cause clouds and tempest to disappear.
If I for a moment neglect to confess her glamour,
Savage beast would roar her praise from lust.
The most ardent lover she forces to stammer,
Her charms makes their tongues unable to adjust,
For it is that womanly way she has with men to enamour.
The forests, streams and all of nature are her gift,
Since every creature with a heart she delights.
O God make me her Perseus and please be swift,
For she is my only dream on starry nights.
My brand is honed sharp to slay the dragon,
And the keys to her chains lay buried in my sack.
We will fly away on a Pegasus drawn wagon,
And sail the celestial ocean in a star guided yacht.
To toast life eternal, may I lift this star-studded flagon?
Baggage
by Odin Roark
Liberation once stood up
Opened its eyes
Allowed light to reach parts unknown
And…
Clinging remnants stirred
Aware to awaken
Might hasten inevitable evaporation
Inviting revelation
Seldom welcome
Still
How often this picture potential
This vagabond side
Wrestling local surroundings
Duplicitous people
Where one desperately reaches for the moment
That possible departure
From gasps of fearful need
The challenge to travel over the line
Where becoming the past again
Lurks with voracious appetite
Difficult it is
To continue beyond
Seeking to live as we are
Knowing we’ve the possibility to become
Not as others would have us
But as innate truth might be dictating
Providing earned reward
For hopefully minimal surrender
At such a point
Sufficient pain and suffering
Has made its impact
Readying one for the harvest
Of earned sacrifice
Affording limited
If not easy passage
Across boundaries heretofore prohibited
But
Unlike our feathered ancestors
Or our primate cousins
We often cling to that
Which freer instincts conquer
Ignorant that experience
Needn’t be harnessed
As drag-behind luggage
Our learned need to please
Furtively becomes an invisible habit
Yes
Liberation stands up often
But open eyes remain rare
The fear of light
Like the release from solitary
Or Plato’s cave
Where challenging silhouettes seem safe
Until one steps into searing heat
Proving reality’s shadow-light
Is not to be denied
Yet
When one is ready
Accepting the shaded past
Allows it be left behind as artifice
Knowing its temporary need
Has served its purpose
Ironically
We create rebirth once again
Chasing childlike innocence
Thinking this time
Tomorrow’s regretful baggage
Can be avoided
Tis the late June day
Which bring flocks
Their subconscious intentions
Obfuscated by the lingering dimensions
Flaccid ideals and breezes
Traversing gingerly through
The ancient elms
Seeded by the pulps of history
They pray, with each scrape
Of their prescient footsteps
For the sparkle, the brilliance
Those ghostly matters provide in perpetuity
The heat emanating from yearnings
Executed by minute's drive
From understandings siloed
In the labyrinth of mind's eye and virtue
Bless us, grand tome
Executor of fine minds and savages
Vanquish, release us into the
Banal confines heretofore begging
To improve and congeal
For the worlds remote
Need the godliness
The opaque permissive rain
Quenching thought to act
Towards probable endings
Splendid imperatives
Preserved for those
Who wish to partake.
(6/24/08)
Exposure & Hiddenness
Surely writing may endanger:
Creations make life a bit stranger,
Poetry comes from the Greek,
"To Make" and thus To Seek,
Is Part & Parcel of Making,
Disparate becomes one in Baking,
Words discover Ideas from Chaos,
Which once divulged ascend a Dais,
Where there's a means, sharing the Discovery,
Am I awfully alone in witnessing a Delivery?
The only one in the world,
To see your newborn unfurled?
A little while ago, I was in lonely storage,
Now suddenly, besieged by conviction courage!
Broadcasting the heretofore unknown,
Can tear asunder in violent gust blown,
It's Warhol 15 Minutes of Fame,
That can distort my humble Name,
Why is there a systematic flaw in sharing?
In that I may lose an aspect of caring!
Honor is an enormous if unintended risk,
Ego soufflé corrodes the self bisque,
An unsuspected, foolishly lost, treasure,
Uninstinctual, unmatched in measure,
Is Keeping the Lid securely, safely On,
Preserving my Inner Self Hidden!
It started with candy corn
on Hallows eve when I was ten,
as dad escorted us from house to house
on that windy night.
Sadistic pleasure was mine,
as I bit the tiny white tips
from each piece and threw the rest away,
while marching to the next house.
Such destructive pleasure changed the way I ate
from that night forward.
No longer did I eat with polite accord
or cater to normal desire.
Food was heretofore decimated by fork and knife,
cut to pieces and consumed
with vengeance by anger
and growing desire for more.
Formative years turned into teen angst
that only increased the distance
between myself and the world,
with uncontrolled craving and binge.
Everywhere I now look, I see food.
Food on magazine covers,
in commercials on TV,
even a food network
Supporting my lifestyle
of decadence
and gourmandian appreciation
of sauces and desserts.
I understand your envy,
acknowledge your disappointment
of failure, while I excel
and try not to flaunt my excitement.
Just because my weight exceeds
what my scale measures,
doesn't mean I have to modify
the way I live.
No. Life only goes around once,
and for me,
it's a paragon of pleasure,
at least four times each day.
But every year at Halloween,
I support the neighborhood
and give kids candy corn
minus the tiny white tips.
Like frosted glass is this night.
Daylight’s clouds - restless like my love -
and scattered wildly heretofore -
somehow made a pact
to nimbly rearrange themselves.
Congealing in this chilling autumn eve -
translucent -
the clouds have blended in with dusk,
obliterating stars. . . and even shadows.
Luna, sad like me,
cannot transmit her moonlight
to cheer me.
Oh, to be again - enraptured!
To see your unique come-hither smile;
to hear the sound of honey in your voice;
to feel that splendid tingle within me
as you shine your gorgeous eyes -
radiant upon me!
Where are you now, my love -
my sweet, alluring boy?
And where are the stars
that blazed for me within your eyes?
Where is the crystal nightfall
of my fondest dream?
Oh, to feel again. . . enraptured!
But not even the smallest gleam
of you remains.
And not even Goddess Moon
can penetrate
this deep abiding gloom.