Long Leading role Poems
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Lost Soul
We’ve gathered here to say goodbye
to yet another boring guy,
kept on yelling for attention
till it gave him hypertension.
Now in the box beneath the shroud
he’s got the eye of all the crowd,
best leading role he ever had,
but no applause and no one’s sad.
Old mourners sprinkle ancient pews,
ill fitting suits and pee-stained trews,
some glasses, dentures, aching backs
with makeup plastered in the cracks.
They kneel for prayers on creaking limbs
then silent lips mouth unknown hymns.
The dead man’s peers in church are few.
Who pays respects where none seem due?
His painted widow in her weeds
now wonders who will sate her needs
with hubby just about to burn
and end up ashes in an urn.
She never grudged the man his health,
content enough to share the wealth,
but pleased this sudden turn of fate
serves up his helping on a plate.
Poor vicar wonders what to say.
about this stiff that’s come his way.
He’s no great speeches in reserve
just... bless a saint and damn a perv.
He settles for the standard rite
then tells the crowd they’ll be all right,
“beyond the stars lie happy lands,
so love your neighbour all shake hands.”
Corpse’ brother sitting cap in hand,
chief mourner in this dismal band,
now ponders on the decent wait
before a widow has a date.
Just wants to get her into bed
but cash and sex means getting wed,
been dodging that since leaving school
concludes that life is Goddamn cruel.
Sister of the spurned cadaver
cannot stand all this palaver.
She didn't like the man in life,
all flashy cars and tarty wife.
Deep down she’s feeling rather chuffed
for all his din he quietly snuffed.
Same cap fits the other brother,
clone of father, not his mother.
This woman weeping by the door
floats back in time to years of yore,
dreams of a lovely friend at school,
so kind and gentle fun and cool,
who shared a secret both held tight
that seemed to change him overnight.
He truly was a super lad
until abused by evil dad.
Since world war 2, there have been more and more oversea scientific and academic centers and institutions co-established for united research and development, more and more trading and financial hubs and bodies set for cross-continental transactions through systematized logistic and settlement networks. In addition, U.S. has military bases and installations worldwide strewn for the holding of strategic points, prompt reactions and other necessary operations. Along with the augmentation of the aforesaid factors, international interaction and interpenetration across many areas have promoted a full-fledged system in accordance with which ceaseless traffics from every corner around the world shuttle and circulate day by day, year after year. Leaving these links and bonds unattended is tantamount to disowning these assets and the rights and duties associated therewith. Stripping away due duty and diligence from this system which has already registered American deep participation and its leading role will certainly incur worrisome contests, overt and covert, by and between insidious coveters and consequently place the entire world under a dangerous uncertainty. In sum, there have been so much interests distributed all over the world since 1945 that no latitude should be allowed for any form of resumption of isolationism, which is virtually little short of arrant abandonment in today's international political context.
Just for want of a nail, the shoe was lost. It's hard to imagine how the federal functionality fails or falters when in want of a good leadership; It's hard to imagine how seriously its normal course of action may be twisted, its planning and executive efficacy mangled and its morals and ethos corrupted.
Impacted by the monstrous mockery of the so-called democratic model of the free world, various extremisms began to bulk large both within and outside America the way hundreds of hydras ride the waves of memetic momentum.
Alexander a Tsar of ideals
A man of heart and noble thought
His mentor, Swiss, Monsieur La Harpe
From childhood, molded to play histories part
He built his armies, to defend his land
His imperial crown and noble lands
Serfs and soldiers, all as one
Napoleons fodder, yet they won
A kind soul, with Christian heart
Ideals inspired by youthful dreams
La Harpes moral guidance did play
Mystical as a musical harp
Onwards in life did this Tsar March
Napoleon was exiled, to an island of defeat
As Cossacks marched along Paris streets
They danced both sides, in freedoms hard won
Josephine and Alex, in the night, dined alone…
The Tsar became Frances golden light
Bringing reforms and Senate into the light
Who would have thought, so long ago
The Tsar of Russia, in Paris did go?
He defended the lands, borders and rights
Giving the Nobility and England a terrible fright
What he feared at home, he endeavored abroad
He was the beginning of visions to be…
Vive la France
La liberté
Peace and Fraternity
Our Holy Alliance
Notes:
The Tsar who defeated Napoleon, written by Marie-Pierre Rey
Where to begin? She did a wonderful job on his biography as well as uncovering original documents in archives, shedding new light on his life.
Yes he marched to Paris
Yes he befriended Josephine the wife of Napoleon, much to the dismay of all.
Yes he endeavored to create a constitutional monarchy
Yes he fought to protect much of Frances borders, feeling that France was a counter weight to the other European powers at the time.
Frédéric-César de La Harpe (born April 6, 1754, Rolle, Vaud, Switzerland — died March 30, 1838, Lausanne, Switzerland) was a Swiss political leader and Vaudois patriot, who played a leading role in the creation of the Helvetic Republic. Was the tutor of Alexander the 1st, and played many would say a key role on the future Tsars actions during his lifetime
The early morning fog bathes the green slime and trees in a gray hue as birds flutter to and fro and squirrels scurry from their beds, playing a tag game of “You're it.” and an early morning feast among shaking limbs and prying eyes. The Bayou comes awake to meet a new day. Sights and sounds of the early hours impels the spirit of the swamp in a ghostly stillness and merriment. Nature comes alive in small measures of time each in its own place, each well aware but unwavering in its brutality for this is life of pure survival hidden among the Spanish Moss and rotting logs
It’s a rehearsal as old as nature itself for the actors are always on stage and the curtain never falls. Its beauty with a haunting presents and writes its own stories penned day and night in the sights and sounds under the sun or moon. A limb breaks under the stress of the tiny weight that finally snaps the rot in its last attempt to win but is lost to the dark water, leaving only tiny bubbles to trace it decent to the bottom. An echo of a far off acorn as it drops in another attempt to win the fight but also loses to the bayou. Drip, drip, drip, the water insist on winning but never the master for nature always comes with more,
The Gator with nose and eyes peeking above the black water to find the next unsuspecting meal as does the cotton-mouth and gar. All is at peace until all is lost. An epitaph written in sudden violence then back to silence, waiting for the Hawk and Owl to make an appearance on nature’s stage and battling for the leading role.
It accepts the wind and rain as a backdrop to enhance the scene, lending a chance for leaves to ride the breeze and a new story is written. The theater only tolerates man as an outsider to look upon its quiet beauty, accepting but without welcome, giving only a minor role and without applause.
I’d rather not be just a spectator of this drama called life.
I would prefer to play my own leading role,
direct my own script, and sing my own songs.
However, I cannot forget that above all,
there is One great author and conductor
of the larger cosmic opera -
The One from whom all things originate and emanate,
the righteousness of whom my heart yearns for
that whenever I forget, and fret,
a reminder comes in more ways than one.
These reminders come in unexpected moments:
In the coming of each morn,
no matter how dark and stormy the night has been,
in the tender rebuke of one who cares,
or tentative smile of a stranger who dares.
In the gurgling laughter of a child,
in the weak nod of the old, nearing his time,
in the hopeful eyes of one who strives,
in the need for guide of one who’s blind,
the humility of one who accepts his fault,
and the downfall of the one full of pride.
While the self is inclined toward being my own master,
life has taught me that I cannot and never will be,
just like all those before me.
I can only be responsible for my own decisions,
and how I react to all situations,
for outside of these are things beyond my control,
because Someone else has.
Believing this, I take comfort in the thought
that beyond this temporary world
is an eternal one, with the One Almighty,
or the evil one. It depends on my choice.
To be with The One God who loves eternally,
where there are no more tears nor strife,
where there is no need for hard work nor is there hunger,
and neither worries nor woes,
where everyone has his own mansion,
is strong, and at the prime of his life -
This is the anchor of my hope, the vision of my faith,
the promise of my choice.
06 September 2015
We fell in love but could not see how roles for us would change.
Until a child was born to us, and the “us” was rearranged.
In came a little child and my role became “producer.”
With so much more to do, things just are not like they used to.
I lost the role of leading man, I am center stage no more.
The time and much attention, is on the baby she adores.
It is hard to fight the feelings that accompany the change.
I’m a father now, a server…what we had seems so estranged.
I truly love our little girl and the time and care she gets,
Yet I truly miss the times alone and the nights of tenderness.
I love to hear her laugh and see her grow so tall,
Yet I miss the dates and closeness that was ours throughout it all.
I feel blessed yet I regret to lose the place I used to hold.
Blessed to have my family, yet I miss my leading role.
Please remind me you still love me, tell me I’m your leading man.
Let me know that I still mean as much as when we first began.
I know this sounds so selfish, egocentric, full of “me”
But I think you too remember just how close we used to be.
There is a way to draw us closer; we must fight for time to share
Because together we are stronger than what only one can bear.
Lord, give me strength and servanthood, to live my role again!
I self-pity I had left the stage, Lord bring me back to when…
I courted her and cherished her; when romance drew a spark
And passion burned our hearts anew to love like from the start.
Give us both a fresh renewal of the love that lives within
And help us to remember, we are “one” to live for Him.
I feel that old rekindling of what drew us both together,
It was time together, just for us; always and forever.
Unter den Linden
I have a soft spot for the German language
when a toddler, I had free access to a military camp where they had enormous horses and let me sit on top of one of them (looking up horses,
I think they were Belgian draft horses)
Since I was 5 years old at the time, I reserve the right to be wrong
My mother said I could speak a little German
I don't think so, but when the Brits and the Americans came, my few words of German were too soon forgotten.
In the late fifties, I was onboard an old ship that
had survived the war but needed its motor seen to in Bremerhaven
the town bore scars of the devastating war
but there was full employment, and everyone was doing something worthwhile, like the farmer who took
took food scraps from ships and fed them to his pigs later, sold for slaughter through ship-chandelier to the merchant ship.
No, Bremenhaven was not Unter den Linden
Not a tree left, cold had the aftermath been
It was spring walking along streets where people sat out telling stories and laughing.
There was a sense of comradeship that made me feel the trauma they had gone through.
At that time, there were no beggars, and no one was following me around in the hope of getting some coins, which was annoying in places like Kingston in Jamaica and other places
Germany has not hitherto played the leading role
a great nation in Europe, this is because the burden
of the Holocaust, a burden unfairly put on the Germans alone to bear, is coming to an end,
also, I think so is the headless policy of not being critical of Israel's policies, which makes many countries
guilty of aiding and abetting the genocide of
of the Palestinian people
a ship and Germany
Unter den Linden, I have a soft spot for the German language
when a toddler, I had free access to a military camp where
they had enormous horses and let me sit on top of one of them
(looking up horses, I think they were Belgian draft horses)
Since I was 5 years old at the time
I reserve the right to be wrong
My mother said I could speak a little German
I don't think so
but when the Brits and the Americans came
my few words of German were too soon forgotten.
In the late fifties, I was onboard an old ship that had survived the war
but needed its motor seen to in Bremerhaven
the town bore scars of the devastating war
but there was full employment
and everyone was doing something worthwhile, like the farmer who took
took food scraps from ships and fed them to his pigs later
sold for slaughter through ship-chandelier to the merchant ship
.No, Bremerhaven was not Unter den Linden
Not a tree left, cold had the aftermath been
It was a spring walk along the streets
where people sat out telling stories and laughing.
There was a sense of comradeship that made me feel
the trauma they had gone through
At that time, there were no beggars, no one was following me around in the hope
of getting some coins, which was annoying in places like Kingston
in Jamaica and other places
Germany has not hither played the leading role
a great nation in Europe
this is because of the burden of the Holocaust
a burden unfairly put on the Germans alone to bear
is coming to an end,
I think so is the headless policy of not being critical of Israel's policies,
which makes many countries guilty of aiding and abetting the genocide
of the Palestinian people
Her Faith? Ironically is unbelievable
She's Steel, personally she's undeceivable
quite literally inconceivable, my existence...
tribulations sometimes seemed unbeatable
Mom made all my failures feel more treatable
all my idea's and dreams more feasible.
Her strength, an overall demeanor to be more reasonable.
"Make life more meaningful... display a leading role."
Sometimes when I'm not feeling up and/or able
Picture myself at my family-dining-room table.
With her... The Creator from her unto cradle
With whispers of dreams, her stories and fables.
To recognize, and emphasize and try to ignore labels
Sturdy, a motionless rock, ain't nothing more stable.
The things she has taught me...
Imbedded deeper than even my eyes can see.
Led me as I followed trusting and blindly
Kept me safe and clean when gross and when grimy.
Maintained order... Yet what comes next...?
Can you please remind me?
You put our futures first mom, thank you kindly...
for being there to guide me, anger and surprise me.
Amaze me in many ways over so many days
Imagine life without me...
All the money you'd have saved :)
All the disappointments, missed appointments no personal importance...
Your patience never waved.
No matter what the case...
The flagrantly familiar are days not long away...
trust me that I love you mom, when I have no words to say.
Mother’s Love
Without a Mother’s love,
no house becomes a home.
Without a Mother’s love,
in the streets, the children roam.
Without a Mother’s loving hands
that create and soothe and mend;
the hearts of many grow cold;
in prisons of anger, their lives spend.
Mother’s play the leading role
in every so-called family.
Mother’s love is the cement
that bind her loved ones happily.
It takes a Mother’s loving smile,
gentle touch or prayer
to give encouragement where needed,
when trials are too hard to bear.
Mother’s love is precious
and should be treated so,
‘cause Mothers don’t last forever;
finally to death’s sleep must go.
So while your Mother’s love is with you,
treasure it each day.
Many never have the privilege—
their Mother’s love to relay.
Mother’s love is a taste of heaven,
where love and forgiveness is free.
Even if you don’t see eye to eye,
she’ll not arguably disagree.
For a Mother’s love gives comfort
to a lost or needy soul.
She’s a gift from the Father’s heart;
the hurting one to console.
Mother’s love is patient;
shows wisdom and thoughtfulness;
a daily deep devotion
in a world of selfishness.
Mother’s love is enduring—
endurance that defies explanation.
Of all the love God gave us,
Mother’s love is His crowning creation.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2010-2012
www.maureenlefanue.com
This poem is featured in Maureen’s Book, Poetry To Touch Your Heart & Soul [Book 1]
Photography by Maureen LeFanue