Long Lead on Poems
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Thanks my PoetrySoup family
You have shown great humility
By lifting up Epulaeryu
May God always bless each of you
Your endeavors are very strong
Sticking with you I was not wrong
Your bond of friendship is so true
May God always bless each of you
You’ve demonstrated fortitude
Like Christ feeding the multitude
With your kindness I feel brand new
May God always bless each of you
Thanks my PoetrySoup family
May God always bless each of you!
© Joseph 11/6/07
© All Rights Reserved
Dedicated to the Knights in shining armor and ladies standing up for the
Epulaeryu poetic form, may God bless each of you always. All of you are
ambassadors of poetic goodwill. Continue to lead on with your angelic host and
my God expand your blessings. Thank you for not asking can God, and for
affirming God can. Thank you always for standing up and winning the victory!
The Kyrielle Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three
rhyming quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase
as a refrain in the last line of each stanza. Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet
has eight syllables. There are times when a French poem links back to the
poem’s beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of
the first quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the
poem.
I stand freezing while our eyes gazed,
Your smile melt my frozen look down,
My world appears new: differently big,
Lacking raw tease in gay enthusiasm.
Smile
Differs
In strength's sight,
To teasing grin, lust looses...
Reaching out for only pleasure seeking-
Smile.
Blessings meet, hearts melt.
First gaze tied both up on belt.
That lust; to inch, smelt.
All ways lead on to no end appraised,
Blindly to the value in different frown,
Of each world, by trust earnestly swig,
To benefit both world's due sarcasm.
End
To end,
Values better.
Half of love affair's plight,
Magnetic lashes view opposing
End.
Blessings meet, minds fused.
Manage difference, flaps abused.
Left tongues confused¡
As we come over for the real vices,
Heart to heart excitedly confessing,
Heart's past in sighs of its assaults,
Foes held unto for long as secrets...
World
Whirl past,
Past hits present,
To lock up bright future,
But forgiveness sings of one
World.
Openness meets us,
Together heart-heart discuss...
To curb raging fuss.
Then we open up updated slices,
Possibly coming forth assessing...
Determined heart's healing vaults,
Of possible Jesus-Judas deficits.
Truth
Lay dead,
Like deaf's hearing...
Accustomed to gestures,
Tempting awaken awareness,
Truth.
Openness meets truth,
We chose GIVE NO EAR to sleuths,
You been my true Ruth.
Ralph lived on an island
Isolated and remote
His only companion was Gertrude, the goat
He didn't have many possessions
There wasn't the need
As long as he had a roof over his head
And enough food to feed
Himself and of course the goat
I forgot to tell you
He also owned a boat
Ralph was contented
Even though he was quite old
The island seemed more deserted
Now the weather was dreary and cold
Gertrude had to live inside
For she was older too
Everything that Ralph owned
This naughty goat would chew
She munched on the furniture
Curtains, rugs and more
The house got even colder
She ate half of the front door
Ralph began to worry
Now thought his mate a pest
He felt so tired and weary
He let Gertie eat the rest
He put a lead on Gertrude
Pulled on his old grey coat
Took a last look around the isle
And got into his old boat
He had thought a lot of late
Of things, he must do
He had no other choice
But drift to pastures new
"You showed me the courage and strength
to achieve all things- I hope you are proud."
by Poet
A simple man was he, one child of ten,
who lived and worked the farm with family.
But stardust fell on him, time and again,
he hid away to read his books to see
what life could offer him, and he'd give back,
if he would leave the farm to chase his star
with talents that would keep his dreams on track.
And so he left to raise his future’s bar.
Concerned for family and what he’d done-
one son of three now gone, and only two
remained to work the land beneath the sun;
but still, he followed stardust trails anew.
No school beyond eighth grade, he still pursued
production of the tube-based radio,
in nineteen-thirty, when its parts were crude
yet intricate- and he became a pro.
The stardust led him to a higher plane
whereby in time he owned a factory;
employed so many workers who would gain
good living in a time of poverty.
Oh, Dad, you hushed the stars- you did not fail.
With inner strength, you followed their bright glow,
to choose this path, which led you to prevail
and help so many people live and grow.
This gift of courage you have offered me
to follow and make use of dreams to share;
to let our stardust paths lead on to free
the will to seek the best on this life’s stair.
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the sky,
Santa's reindeer sped bringing toys to the world's small fry.
"On Dasher! On Dancer and Prancer! On Cupid and Vixen!
Lead on Rudolph! Speed it up there Donner and Blitzen!"
Rudolph knew the routine since he had led Santa for years,
Cruising o'er Australia, Merry Olde England and sunny Algiers!
Suddenly, Santa saw strange sights he'd never encountered before!
Whizzing past him were dozens of satellites and space junk galore!
But faithful Rudolph was alert and said after another near miss,
"Never mind, boss! Trust me and hang on! I'll get you through this!"
Santa clutched his toy bag, hunkered down and closed his eyes,
Relying on the red-nosed one to guide him safely through the skies.
They made it alright and Santa visited every isle, city and nation,
Spreading cheer to all who awaited his visit with great anticipation!
Santa brought presents to all good little girls and boys worldwide,
Thanks to his magic sleigh and reindeer with Rudolph as his guide!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
My cousin Aliyah announced she is a pet walker to the cousins.
Why would she say that? She walks dogs by the dozens.
My friends have other pets, most of them one-of-a-kind.
My mother kept saying “Aliyah can do it. She will not mind.”
So now I am walking a horse, parrot, lizard, gecko, and snake.
Wearing on my back a fishbowl with a goldfish named Drake.
The pig barely catches up, and the raccoon is a trickster.
The alligator holds us back; he is named King McLickster.
Do not forget Mr. Tibbles, Aliyah’s mom said with glee.
He is a foul-talking parrot who has a big crush on me!
And what about the turtle? Her dad said. He is so slow.
Yes, he holds us back Aliyah admits, wherever we go.
Why can’t you say no? I asked my cousin, concerned for her.
I started saying yes, and I could not stop, she said with a murmur.
She has a weasel too, he is sneaky as he can be said her brother.
I have a lead on a bat, said her helpful pushy old mother.
A lonely beam of yellow-white light,
carving a curve in the ink of the night,
upon the snow-burdened branches of pine,
standing still guard to the lord of the line.
The icy wind howls in the silence serene,
tempting the light to avert and careen,
off of the timber and iron ahead,
into the water, the darkness, the dead.
And the blizzard, it beckons, with comfort sublime,
whispering rest to the lord of the line.
For burdens oft carried can even bend steel,
and wheels are not able to lay flat or kneel.
The engine is tempted, it lets out a peal,
a horn most forlorn to the wind most surreal.
Yet as the sound leaps through the valley of ice,
there redounds an echo—once, twice, and thrice!
And under the frost-covered rivets, inside,
the fire burns hotter, and strengthens the hide.
A purpose so strong is written within,
that heard from without, can bring life again.
As noble as Atlas, the train carries on,
knowing some where to go, and much where it's gone.
Accepting the fate of bitterest wine,
following on as the lord of the line.
But there is a crowd in the carriage behind,
they have many eyes, and still they are blind.
Driven by torment and anger and spite,
to tear out their hearts and sleep in the night.
Too proud to sound the horn of lonely man's fear,
their fires die within them, drowned by a tear,
a droplet of brine they would never expose,
so they swallow it whole, like blood in death-throes.
And they choke and they sputter, bottling steam,
they rush to the brink, as if in a dream.
A nightmare of pain in a cold hinterland.
And they cast off their life by no one's command.
In fear of the trials, they surrender their hope.
They laugh at life's line and they sever the rope.
A road through the darkness might lead on to shine.
Do you dare to take it, O Lord of the Line?
I look back fondly on this poem. Though I have grown in my ability to deviate from very structured poetry, I see my natural tendencies toward order when I look at this piece. I think PS drives me to explore new themes, structures, and ideas that will expand my abilities as a poet, and offer insight into my life outside of poetry.
Collaboration with Mitch Taylor
written in 1984 when we were 12
The problem with pregnancy is getting’ wild.
Too many teens already have a child.
The stats on pregnant teens is growin’ higher
And is spreadin’ like a wildfire.
It is a problem in our nation.
People blamin’ it on education.
Too many students who are not leranin’
Are droppin’ out of school and havin’ children.
It is called teen sexuality,
But sex usually starts in the school.
People who do it think they’re cool
And, if you don’t, then you’re no fool
‘Cause you shouldn’t use sex as a tool
To achieve success, to be the best,
And to get a lead on all the rest.
It is a questions as serious as cancer,
“Should I do or do not romance her?”
It is a problem of the eighties,
Too many children havin’ babies.
How I knew one fine day
that you were the one?
I searched inside myself, asking...
"Is this indeed true love?
Do I feel the magic of her charms?"
Is her embrace as soft as velvet?"
I asked myself
"Do I feel vulnerable with her? Do I feel...
the squeeze of her hand whenever I hold it?
Is she but God's greatest gift to me?"
You are, my dearest. Your first touch
was a slice of heaven; a telling sign
you captured a piece of my soul..
I wondered...
"Does she reignite my smothered passions?
Does she give me a shoulder to lead on?
Am I lifted up when I fall like timber?"
I asked myself
"Does she break me free when
I find myself caught in the jaws
of life's booby-trap? Does she
show me the way out of dead ends?"
The answer to every question
was yes, my lovely Helen; that's how
I knew you were my soulmate,
the answer to my prayers
Date writted: 01/02/2021
The melancholic, cold rain makes me sad.
In the days of loud silence,
rain always called on you.
Your way into my thoughts and tears.
*
Color of lead on the sky; everything is grey.
The blue is in your eyes only.
Come along and listen with me
to the drops dripping down the window.
Like once upon a time down to our curls,
while in love and smiling,
we kissing each other under the clouds.
*
Your head is on my heart.
I am silently touched by your skin.
The gentle warmth of voice.
Your hands on my face heal everything.
*
Heavens Weltschmerz for all sad loves.
Maybe spring will bring something new.
New love and joy.
*
Piano music is somewhere in the distance.
A full circle day is approaching.
Announcement of the golden days in Marrakech.
With flower petals on the bed
and the view of the sunny oasis day.
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