Long Mighty Poems
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A castle on the hill, a symbol resolute.
built upon the broken backs of the poor.
The hungry and homeless of this land.
Enslaved to build, a symbol they despise.
Vast extravagance, and the sturdiest of form.
Representing the empires, boundless strength.
More than a structure, or just a monarch's home
An eternal symbol of a nation, perched atop a hill
For all to marvel at the wonder it ignites.
Each stone place for beauty and for strength.
Ensuring the vast castle, will forever last.
Impenetrable a force, proved by failed attempts.
A castle once sat upon the hill above.
Now in a state of ruin, stones scattered abound.
Remaining as a sad remnant, of an empire's fall.
Destroyed by the hands, of its construction.
A revolution of greater force, than any invader.
Consumed by itself, standing to flaunt ones riches
Motivated by their hunger, and desperate souls.
A siege to avenge, the neglect of all humankind.
The rubble bears no resemblance to a great castle.
Instead it stands a symbol, of total destruction.
Long after death, only reputation will remain.
Who ruled this great castle, no one even knows.
The only memory of the once great civilization.
Is of the men who brought the great structure down.
Citizens of the lowest standing, remain as the stones.
Each stone a symbol, of a revolutionaries strength.
Bipedal Insects
I hate and hate and hate.
I want to stop others from being happy.
How dare they be safe, and well fed?
How dare they be patriotic?
How dare they be American?
A plague upon the land.
Termites gather at the base of the tree.
One to the other they chatter.
“We can do this.”
“We can do this.”
“We can do this.”
The first bite is bitter tasting.
The second is even worse.
It is the full flavor of truth.
A strange and unknown taste to most,
if not all of the ill minded,
Hard-shelled, individuals that have no concept of hope.
“Add sauce…” they yelled as one.
“We can do this.”
The chant became louder.
Passers by that normally would not notice…
now took time to listen.
“We can do this.” (clicking pincer noises, the sounds of lies and deceit made real)
“Do what?” Some might ask, if they could see, but they could not.
Blinded by facts right in front of them.
The long time between school and life, leaves gaps.
These openings, others fill willingly with dark thoughts…
Controlling… all.
Crush the bugs, don’t listen to the words.
They are nothing but pests to the mighty tree.
Be strong be faithful.
God shine his mighty Light, the son…
Jump high! The sky is the limit,
my friend. Even if it has a ceiling,
be the rocket that obliterates it
to smithereens. Go even higher;
reach the height of heaven!
Dream high! No dream is too lofty.
If its truly to be, it's up to you.
You and you alone have the power
to make them real and possible, so.
never doubt or cast them aside.
Climb up! And keep on climbing!
Your dreams are toweringly tall
trees, piercing through the clouds;
as mighty as a Redwood tree,
but you can climb them to the top!
Flap those wings! Flap those wings!
Leap into the wind and soar higher,
and higher. Do not fear the height.
The wind beneath your wings will
carry you to the height of heaven!
Submitted for...
Strand Select J ,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 02/09/2020
Date written and posted: 07/12/2018
Hear the shout of “SEA!” where ends the land
down Manzanilla way on windward shore -
on coconut road, on golden turtle sand
and follow a far trail of palms to its door.
Upon old plantation footprint I stood,
coco lillies and beach flowers I’ve smelled,
when beachcomber island castaway driftwood
my mother’s full and cradled arms held.
In seine nets from Cocal to Mayaro
villagers pull carite, wahoo, mackerel, and shark,
and dig for chip-chip and watch fireflies glow
as bright the pitch-oil lamps burn after dark.
Like leatherbacks in Grand Riviere I will return
before my oil and lamp do cease to burn,
when eerie is the billfish feeding ground
and missing are the pelicans stormbound.
Gaze out to sea upon blown rig and sail
in our fright’s strand on stormwatch to the south,
heed the mighty whirlwind, its scything trail -
Galleon’s Passage to the Serpent’s Mouth.
See the bended trees on coconut row
when lightning fork flashing turns night to day -
let it thunder, let it rage, let it blow
across river and swamp in Cocos Bay.
When jittery estate cattle away are led
and heron, egret, petrel, ibis, and frigate bird
take flight for cover when all else have fled
till a cockcrow at early dawn is heard.
Like leatherbacks in Grand Riviere I will return
before my oil and lamp do cease to burn,
when eerie is the billfish feeding ground
and missing are the pelicans stormbound
Written: July 1996
As the mercury soared above ninety degrees
We piled in the car and headed to the sea
It was dad, mom, sister and me
My sister was twelve, I was four years past three
Once on the beach we roamed around
I found a spot to build a sandcastle
Sis was talking, a boy she had found
And I with the sand, continued to "wrassle"
After a while I got bored
So I headed towards the water
I felt the waves lick my feet
And I ventured further to escape the heat
Suddenly, a big wave lifted me
And carried me out to sea
Back on shore, my sister was searching for me
At the top of her voice she shouted out my name
Her panic set in as she looked to see
If the mighty sea had claimed me
As her tears started to pour
Another wave brought me back to shore
After she saw me she dried her tears
And told me never again to venture out there
"Don't tell mom and dad," she made me swear
And then she gave me a seashell, it was my souvenir!
Is it any wonder that on a recruit's first day of service he is befuddled?
From day one he's told to do things by the numbers and his brain is muddled!
From the moment he stepped off the bus, mean ol' sergeants began to yell!
Sergeants, it seemed, were born to make life for raw recruits a living 'ell!
He was herded to the barbershop where he was shorn of all his hair!
He was as bald as a billiard ball, but the barbers didn't seem to care!
Next on his rite of passage was to strip bare as the day he was delivered,
To be poked, prodded and given shots as he moved along and shivered!
Sergeants double-timed him to the quartermaster to be issued all his gear,
Still smarting from all those shots he'd just received in his arms and rear!
He drew a gun, socks, drawers, uniforms and a couple of pairs of boots,
Then the sergeants taught him close order drill and how to make salutes!
The next stop was at the mess hall where cooks concocted dubious fare,
Mysterious vittles that in no way with his mom's cooking would compare!
He was double-timed to his barracks where he was assigned a sagging cot.
Along with fifty snoring and snorting troops, this was to be his hapless lot!
He aspired to be a fighter pilot but the tests he couldn't comprehend,
So he was assigned to the good ol' ground pounding infantry in the end!
At the sound of "Taps" he felt mighty blue as he collapsed on his bunk.
He was disillusioned with the whole affair and was in a dreadful funk!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Some will tell you,
that we hold a paper flower
in an endless night - who knows?
Some will say
only our dreams are awake
- who can tell?
Do we ride this cosmic river
in a leaking boat,
or are we all the radiance of the Buddha,
already enlightened -
maybe the paper bloom
is note fake aftercall.
Today we see a goat riding a donkey,
Tomorrow that same scraggy goat
is the mighty arch-angel Michael
and the donkey is your mind;
a shining steed
for one thousand more angelic beings.
We don’t have to take one picture
and hang it up forever.
The picture gallery is endless
and always evolving.
Some say that this world is on fire
but then again
maybe we are that refining fire?
Many contend
that it’s possible to see
what others will always miss
or miss what other’s will always see.
Who knows?
A new tongue between old lips,
or an old tongue between new lips;
let your tongue
and lips be strangers.
Perhaps that paper flower
is a symbol of our impermanence,
or just maybe a perfectly created sign
of an ever flowering eternity -
that just might be.
As you walk through the corridors of life, its highways and by-lanes, the
back-alleys and well-beaten trails, through lush jungles or the arid scorching wilderness you pickup tidbits or sometimes gems of wisdom at the unlikely places, from the unlikely people, sometimes very much alive and present, sometimes from long dead and forgotten.
you learn from parents
and more so from peers and seers,
life teaches better.
One thing I learned from Jesus Christ is that you have to carry your own cross knowing full well that you may be crucified on this very cross – sometimes you have no choice, sometimes you have to do it for the good of the people.
Prophet Muhammad taught me that when a revelation dawns on you, embrace it zealously. If you have enough people believing in your perception, you have begun a new creed.
Moses taught me that you don’t have to tread the well-trodden path. You can cut across the wilderness and still reach the Promised Land.
Buddha taught me that a state of enlightenment can only be attained by renouncing physical and material yearnings.
Mahatma Gandhi made me see the futility of war and aggression. You can bring down a mighty empire just be a wooden staff in your hand and wearing nothing but a loin cloth.
Mother Teresa made me realize that you can live your life unselfishly, working and caring for others and still make your life a success and fulfilling.
not of the heavens
nor of any astral plane,
faith is of the heart.
Nowhere is taught the skills to live a life. You are not born with an instruction manual. No one can fix it for you if you screw it up. And you cannot return it and get an instore credit. You cannot put it on lay-away. You cannot exchange it for another if you don’t like the one you got. You just got to make it work good for you by yourself.
But these bits of wisdom comes much later—at the tether’s end of one’s life,
when we have already put too many miles on and the seats are all worn-out and the dashboard all faded and dusty. When the brakes start screeching and squealing. When the engine starts making funny noises and the radiator begins to leak…
a life-long process
salvation lies in one's self…
seek none but thyself.
‘Anger is one letter short of danger.’
Excess of it, our life can endanger.
Anger when grown into aggression and violence,
Works in vicious ways and is a great malaise
It fosters hatred and ruptures many hearts,
Angry words can wound and pierce like darts.
But Anger becomes a sublime emotion,
If we know how to handle it without explosion.
It becomes sometimes so constructive,
Quashing the fallacy that anger at all costs is disruptive.
Many a time it has proved so positive.
And sometimes it turns very productive.
When anger is turned against situations
And not against people aiming at their degradation.
It enables us to rectify the discrepancies,
Through our resentment to change the disparities.
It fuels us with the energy to voice against injustice.
Bringing solutions to the voiceless in their crisis.
But never let anger consume your heart and soul.
It sure will take a mighty toll.
When anger bubbles and boils, catch the cue.
Wait a minute before the fire devours you.
As humans, we are likely to lose our temper.
But remember, to it, never surrender!
Holding a long-standing. grudge,
Is like having an unerasable smudge.
It will always leave a stain,
And lead us to irrepressible pain.
However, it is not advisable to suppress anger,
It can lead to irreparable danger.
But remember, when emotions of hatred are let loose,
There is hardly any chance for a truce.
A person under violent rage
Is like a prisoner in a cage.
Anger, more often is a negative emotion.
Landing us in violent commotion.
Anger against people steals all our energy,
But when it aims at solutions, it enhances synergy.
When angry, forgetting all decorum, one may shout.
Don’t let your resentment thoughtlessly blurt out.
Never let the tongue make a tempestuous tirade.
Tackle this tiny tab of tissue and tame its blade!
Long was the run to live
On a May day;
Running in the corners of the living world.
A Female antelope,
Led it's way to a stream nearby
To wet it's broken feet to safety.
Just now had a fight with the mighty.
Running to a safe sojourn.
Grass so red returned with in vain.
Unable to see the future of life.
There ends all nightmares to a ground.
Today is luckier in having been saved,
Not like her mates just caught by the mightiest.
Speeding with elbow wind there came a trap,
Made by human's unknown.
To lead its way to a sanctuary.
To be named, to be tamed and to be cared.
Innocent children who turn wise with pets.
Vets who save the wounded legs
Never was the day without amusement.
Of few hundreds of crowd.
At the sight of the beautiful creature.
To live longer, to eat more fresh grass.
Man becomes God to save her.
To live like a clay.