Long Honestly Poems
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I really love my Aunty;
Honestly, I do.
Even though she teases me,
I'm sure she loves me too.
My sister had her wedding.
It was quite the fancy do.
Aunty whispered in my ear,
"That will soon be you."
Trish is very pretty,
And Delilah is delightful,
You should get married soon,
Or you'll grow old and spiteful.
Sister had a baby boy,
And we wet the infant's head.
"Get off your tush and have your own!"
So my Aunty said.
"Be married first, of course,
So as not to misbehave.
Then we all can welcome home
Vera, Chuck, and Dave."
Aunty never bore a child,
Nor did she take a mate.
But she'd taunt me with reminders
At each sacrament or fete.
The years went by and father died.
The vicar read the text.
I nudged my dear old Aunty,
"By the way, you're next."
There was a place, supposedly, that was my home.
I was born and grew up in that Southern place.
My family was great, but that place, not so much.
I heard it said that home is where your story began.
But honestly, that place was never really home to me.
There is a neighborly place, saturated with love and grace.
It's a church community in a river city of trees, situated
In a valley of beautiful sunrises and sunsets between
The High Sierras, Lake Tahoe, and The Deep Blue Sea.
Sure, we were looking for a new church home,
But I was not in a hurry and did not want to go there.
For years, after going, I never really wanted to be there.
For years, I was uninvolved and behaved like one who didn't care.
And then, that friendly church became a place like none other.
Like being knitted together with family, a sister, or a brother.
Like a place of renowned, to cherish and to treasure.
When I think about our 28 years there, I realize it was the dearest.
A place where success was rewarded, and failure did not cause one
'To be less than', to run, to hide, to pretend, or to feel disregarded.
A place where rejected and weak ones can once again become strong.
A place, not about who's right or wrong, but about finding where one belongs.
A place where one could say, "Leave me alone", and not fear being left alone.
O, you may say it's time to move on and find a new place to roam. Make no Mistake, We have moved on; but 'that pastor' will aways be 'my pastor',
And 'that church' will always be 'my church'.
031722PS
I keep trying to fight but everyday it gets worse,
I'm trying to carve out a path but it hurts
and I loop around to where I stood first.
I'm stuck suffering,
but won't let no fat lady sing.
Relapse,
forget the feeling,
I'll just get back to my feet and I'll stand,
because fate demands,
I'll never live it down if I don't rebound.
I honestly promise to be at my strongest,
in fact no impact or test
can crush my chest, ever,
I'm a last and never rest
not 'til I bask that no flag flew at half mast.
I'll dip and I'll rise like a rollercoaster ride
but I'll never hollow out inside or lose my pride,
I'll battle depressions wickedness with all my witty grittiness
and when I'm knocked down I'll breathe, go again and believe,
with a greed for freedom core and seed 'til I'm freed.
That's the wish beyond painful twists,
a thirst to slit wrists through self hatred,
and the positive drive is confiscated,
but don't be mistaken I'll reinstate it,
I aint breaking, this life aint there for the taking,
I'll rehabilitate me inevitably.
Lisa was the very first love of my youth,
even her voice had the sound of a flute;
how funny she looked with those huge, black sunglasses
matching her blue bikini...honestly I had plenty of laughs!
I surely approached like any other boy would,
trying to mentally rehearse my intent...
and finding courage took a planned incident,
which made me conquer her with an insincere word.
"Sorry for messing up your clean blanket,
the hot sand burned my feet and I got mad!"
I humbly said with the tenderest voice to win her favor...
" No need to apologize. " she replied, touching her red hair.
And suddenly a summer steamy love began...
how delighted and how lucky I was to have gotten away so shamelessly
with my pretense, then she asked me to get off the hot sand
and sit on her blanket to listen to Cher...oh, she longed for her Sonny!
Lisa was the very first love of my youth filled with sensation;
when I open my cluttered closet, a withered carnation,
she put in my tuxedo jacket, still evokes our last date...
the eighties were a joy to explore with her without any haste.
I awake alert
full of mindfulness
aware of the need
to write and spill ink
sensitive to thoughts
no fulcrum plan
there is no key
and no magic
just a deep need
to pen words
honestly
sincerely
in black
succinct
ink
words
feelings
pouring
a reflex
an instinct
gift given
psyche engaged
selfdom ego
I love my ink
and words that pour
there is no blueprint
but spontaneous
fondness to just write
for I love inking
______________________
March 02, 2022
Poetry/Diminished Hexaverse x2/I Love My Ink
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1435-832-02
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Consciousness Fulcrum
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 03/12/2022
Fifth Place
As each life moment ticks away, those I cannot recreate,
I wonder at my life, I wonder at my fate.
I wonder how it could have been and the friends I used to know.
I wonder how I fared and just what I have to show.
Was I too materialistic, was I too afraid to fail?
Did I follow all my dreams? At what did I prevail?
Did I love with all the honesty? Did I put it to the test?
Did I honestly and truthfully give it all my best?
I didn’t ever think these things, when I was in my prime,
For I was too concerned ‘bout making my next dime!
Love wasn’t the thing, that filled my every being,
Too selfish, too conceited, love was not there for seeing.
It wasn’t all bad but time was rarely spent,
On the most important matters, those which are god sent.
Love, patience, forgiveness, commitment, to name a few,
Aspects I now realise really matter when I knew!
Guarana Mo!
Most of the follow
wing (fictitious) quit
tuss cent shill, knit
head, (non adult tryst) pit
tee full (sorry excuse
for originality), rit
dunk yule huss, feebly
abominable attempt at unit
tarry yen rhyme for excellence,
benignly, essentially,
and honestly wit
less, worthless reading mitt
tear real - dashed off
(by this hare reed rabbit),
wall henna burst of
(playful tulles toy) warren peace,
aye practically spit
out (from inxs of carrot juice),
now dost daringly be hove
brave reeder to comprehend
this dime metrical kickstarter fit -
bawling contrived nada very tit
till late ting, nor
not so great English lit,
and moost unlikely tuff hind
posthumous fame,
worm ma obit
chew wary verb boss
lee probably re:nouns,
(this once upon
a time pablum child),
nor e'en garner this hare reed
ole Jack a one hit
wonder poetic laureate,
nonetheless this
(o' whar did me bunny go),
perhaps to Brit
tin endeavoring merely
to join United Kingdom
(and merrily) writ
for the underground
to test skill at
heart felt fabrication like me,
thus exempting bing
considered, judged,
and labeled tubby unfit.
Now let yours truly whoop
focus to address main intent,
(sans for quick
pick me up)
and nary drop of coffee,
nope not even one molecule
to fill thimbleful sized cup
I reach for bottle of Guarana,
(one serving of
coffee per capsule)
fo' this aging pup,
who attests that caffeine
(liquid and/or
encapsulated), the sole vice
(except for barbiturates, cocaine,
"FAKE" opioid, et cetera),
which overdose nearly found me
nearly a grateful dead – thrice
occasions, where
circumstances of Mus
self (Stuart Little reincarnate -
with an insatiable
craving for cheese
laced with Guarana,
Paullinia cupana,
a climbing plant
in the maple family),
which bean sized seeds
affordable at an acceptable price
many times larger
than puffed rice.
My chest feels heavy.
My shoulders are rising up to my ears.
All I did was think about the future.
Even if I had thought of anything else-
The present,
The past,
The only thing left that I can feel is terrified.
Maybe the world can't hurt me from my bedroom.
If I hide out here long enough, maybe you'll leave.
I'll take up residency under these blankets.
I'll form my own city within these four walls.
A democracy of patience for myself,
Of kindness, of treating myself well.
Still the default setting set in my head is to accept this abuse as if it is love.
When I feel terrified or resigned,
I tell myself I want you.
What I really want is love without pain.
I want love without terror and shouting.
Without you making me hyperventilate over things like laundry or vacuuming.
I want the freedom to feel like myself again.
I want to see my friends again.
I don't want to be isolated to only this.
I want to feel love from someone and know it is always there.
I want to feel safe.
I want to listen to the voice that has been screaming inside of me for so long.
I want that voice to scream so loud I finally hear it clearly.
I want that voice to shake this home to the ground,
For it to clear me a path out of this.
I understand its my fault too.
I shouldn't have thought you'd change.
I should never have expected you to.
You are you, and honestly,
I'll always love you for you.
But I cannot accept a love that hurts so much.
I cannot bear witness to this any longer;
I cannot lose myself any more than I already have in this hurricane we called Love.
Its dangerous,
And it'll really, really hurt.
But I'm taking the life raft.
I need to save myself.
The merry widow’s marvelous mincemeat melody
Was gradually heard around three by the old oak tree
Honestly said Bert, the bumblebee, is this the Grand Prix?
Miraculously, there was a royal red revelry
A chickadee landed on the right knee of Diana Dee
Making her a friend in furious practicality
Old oak tree receded into the loving forest canopy
Forming a deliberate, desired universal solid symmetry
Would you like a chewy chickpea Lee asked widow and me.
I heard hyena-like laughter from Leroy, the red-butted monkey
Rolling them in warm tortillas is the chef’s secret recipe
Flamboyant frog huffed away, jingling her copper jewelry
The rest of us stared, which we do on Wednesdays, habitually
Being yourself and making no apology is the key said monkey
The faeries made themselves tinier, they were in fact now wee
Lovely monorhyme in progress, guessed my observant cousin Vee
I must agree said my boss, the pompous persnickety Mr. McGee
The rhymes are rather delightful, and frankly, there are plenty.
OH! My heart is a wide open door!
OH! My heart is really a wide open door!
OH! My heart is truly a wide open door!
For my beloved Lord holds the golden keys
that unlocks the wide open door of my heart
My Lord has cleansed all of my sins far, far away!
And He has cast all of them into the deepest sea!
Once I was lost but now do I honestly see?
The candle light of my whole life is Jesus Christ!
Once I was lost within the dept of my sins!
The Golden Candlestick has redeemed me!
OH! My heart is a wide open door!
OH! My heart is really a wide open door!
OH! My heart is truly a wide open door!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
April 25, 2021