Long Moulding Poems
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Another lost noon,
engraved as unforgettable
memoirs within my mind,
I’m rethinking of rewriting
and rewinding revoked
reflections of a love rekindled.
My eager heart
is now hanging in the void,
yearning to swirl
through desert dunes
to exhale one more
dandelion dream
in the same air as you,
where quill and paper
were no longer needed.
For times that I
was inking
meaningless phrases,
were buried
deep down under,
as you were softly
scribbling dewy verses
of desires upon
my desolated skin,
rescuing darkness
with starving sincerity,
illuminating and hydrating
my urges with
prolific praising,
moulding every
imperfection of mine
into an abstract art,
naming them
with prismatic gems
on the night of confession,
beneath a sky full of stars
that were burning.
I’m now left with no
adjectives to alliterate,
how this sunflower
soul’s cry bloomed
within your
healing embrace,
where hailing
emotions were eased;
I knew then,
that’s where
I’ve for so long
wanted to belong.
The whirling gusts of
greedy gardenias
may say
roses aren’t fragrant,
but why am I yearning
to be the Juliet rose
in your graceful garden,
where petals glow
like rainbow-hued stardust,
I’m on a virtual venture,
wishing I had
Aladdin’s vintage lamp;
to grant me my
dose of you and I.
If only I could ride
above Arabian valleys;
on an amethyst
magic carpet,
stitched with
crystalline crescent sequins.
If only you could feel,
I’ve been dreaming
of daisy meadows
and dahlia lawns,
where memories
are fatal,
pushing me into a
labyrinth of
mourning magnolias,
searching for
balanced brightness,
although you
still wander
through a
foreign land~
faraway from “us”.
I hear your wings
adorned with
orchestric ornaments
ascending into
the celestial fields,
leaving me in an
astral connection,
with a jar of memories,
where I still keep
falling for you,
time and time again,
as you are my
beginning and ending,
the amorous poet
that wouldn’t
take love for granted~
like the pirates of
this heart-shaped odyssey.
And I shall forever be reliving
the fabulous February,
spent in your golden presence;
although, days together
were somewhat short
and nights were long,
we will rephrase this romance
relentlessly
into an everlasting love story.
The Lord God creator sustainer friend
who lives eternally for ever and ever
whose love does know no end
has perfect knowledge so very clever
This God knows me inside out
24/7 He's always on my case
urging and desiring to make me fit
telling myself to seek His face
His sanctifying purpose is always there
upholding my soul by His sufficient grace
moulding me to be like His son
keeping me in step in Life's race
The Lord gives me my every breath
without one I wouldn't be here
every moment's given by His hand
so to me my Lord's so very dear
In particular during this past day
I receive His peace and determination
to fight off Satan's deceitful lies
so I can be victorious for God's nation
God also spoke in His holy spirit
by His sword clearly being my guide
wait patiently till He says so
for He is always at my side
What peace this knowledge brings
so my soul can joyfully sing!
On a cold, chilly October autumn street,
One can watch bright coloured twirling leafs,
and the prompt urban wanders who walk on them,
you’d yearn to engage with these throngs at least,
how they might unravel a facade or two in sequence,
quite often on many occasions I imagine their stories,
If I only had the gumption to speak to them,
whirl pool rain and storms indeed might be a hindrance,
wind allied to drizzle an incentive to cafe caper refuge,
a general overall dampness, wet, drizzle, grey skies,
Predictable intrusion of the normal outlet that rambling obviously is,
instant topic to dwell on covering a wide range therein,
seasons have such insole penchant for moulding outlook,
symbolism is mine to grasp and expand on foot,
pavement as a slippy shivery theatrical perilous stage,
It can be perceived as home to the shrewd adaptable speaker,
actor, actress, character, playwright,
audience,
will the earnest crisp daylight morning fall fodder dominate?
as I boldly essay an impromptu unrehearsed passage in situ,
yet silent thoughtful conversation has already composed the script
Sunlight seared gold across cold tiles,
her mother’s hands moulding tender skin.
Cheeks pressed to air, she ruled with wiles,
blind to the tide that pulled her within.
Her father’s pride beneath the boards lay deep,
a silent swell, austere, deliberate.
I see her still, the child who could not keep
her innocence from the world’s weighty state.
She ran with him—a coin, a whispered trade,
sunlight congealed in a shadowed veil.
Her pulse became a ledger, each hope weighed,
each warmth exacted, each fragile detail.
Iron hummed beneath her feathered wings,
like merciless strings, the bars pressed down.
Hands—greedy, precise, exact—claimed all things,
erasing her ledger, her delicate renown.
The rope coiled soft, intimate, oppressive near,
pressing secrets into skin she could barely hear.
Her palm touched the bars, half trembling, half brave,
half in fragile hope, half sensing the grave.
A hollow bell clicked, echoing slow,
matching the pulse she could not let go.
A laugh drifted—tiny, absurd, slight—
crumbs of joy in a caged bird’s faint light.
She fluttered, recalling mornings unconfined,
bread and honey, innocence revered.
Ink smudged across her trembling mind,
thoughts folded quietly, silently steered.
Repentance coiled tight, sheets worn by nights,
Sometimes she wished to unmake herself.
Yet some pulse endured, a whisper of lights,
existence persisted, quietly itself.
A breath, a glance, a pulse enumerated twice,
moments of being cruel yet precise.
She smiled faintly, defiant, exiled,
gesture small, impossibly concise.
Wings bound, body claimed, heart betrayed,
yet she moved, unbroken, unafraid.
Even here, carved in air, her truth persists,
precise, unclaimed, in shadowed twists.
Life insists in tiny, unclaimed motions,
in fluttering wings, in whispered devotions.
And I—entangled, witness to her vertiginous plight—
behold the child, the ledger, the caged bird’s quiet blight.
Not emancipated, nor entire, yet awake,
and in that delicate exigence,
all phenomena suspend
in hushed, unpossessed potentiality,
suspended,
perhaps,
to be fathomed—
and should we linger in this scrutiny,
we cannot avert our gaze.
I resume the world soap,
'Cos by celestials' rule i cannot cope.
Bind i myself to this world by luxury rope,
That by faith i'll be firm,even if a slope.
And to all my crafts entrusted and dope!
I will return never to that hood,
Neither will i to the beggars nude.
For to them was i presented as a food,
A flesh in their midst is qualified to be
consumed.
For that did i all myself seek good.
I'll retreat to the king's abode,
And will in anxiety and curiosity a-rode.
That i before him will again be a-mould.
That if peace tarry not,joy will be to me a-
load.
And to luxury will i eternally unfold.
Wealth,luxury,Grace,Joy,money,
Honour,heights in my lodge be.
Strife,death,indecisions,menace,worry,
Loadgers,panicking,illness,perish be.
From me an to me; Reads; pleasant thrills.
Clays,mortal,pestals; my guards are,
Iron,metals,gun are from me far.
For they to human world sketch scar,
And on destruction were they a star.
Let the formers be found with the potter.
I am what i choose to be,
A Potter,that'll all wealth fix.
That if joy and hope be amiss,
Or if they be slack; mend be.
That if Joy,peace and hope did slack,they'll
be mend by me.
I'm a potter,
To all slacks; an answer.
I'm the mending panther.
Moulding mortals,
The pot-ting Potter.
I AM
c.2017
Molding The Children of Time…
An igneous, metamorphic warmth
Singed my being leaving
My sable body in a convulsive state.
What touch was this that I had
Never known and will never
Know again?
Shall I forever be a transient
Traveling this silicon path of time?
Will the turbulent tides of the lives
I lived ever end their to and fro search?
The stone cold reality meanders
Through opaque minds whose human roots
Have been exposed and sheared by the volcanic
Wash that continues to bleach away true sown seeds.
Yet, like Job, God demands that I too,
Be put to the test that they must and will succeed
As we dig out the destinies that the soil of time will bear.
The seeding journey continues.
Yes, the harvest remains plentiful;
And the reapers remain few.
Ancient God extended his hand
towards this beauty,
pulling her close unto
him, moulding her
voluminous figure with
ample bosom into
his embrace
As his hands tried to
memorize every inch
of her small waist,
to reluctantly travel upward
to touch her flawless face
He brushed aside a long
dark wavy auburn lock
that lit up beneath the
sun's hot rays
Her eyes, amazed him at
the multitude of colored
flakes that danced in
them so bright
Fire burned deep within
them showing she had fight
Yes Aphrodite would be
envious of this beautiful
breathtaking sight
For where doeth this
vision hail from
Pure perfection t'was
what she was
A soft sigh escaped her
pouty full lips tinted a
deep red rose
She had a small upturned
nose and cheeks set high,
soft but fierce tilted
upward chin
T'was her God-like beauty
that had drawn him in
Her accent perplexed him
as her sultry seductive
voice said
"Alas I am but modern woman...
our words don't even mix!"
He leaned forward taking in
her very scent to whisper
in her ear....
"T'would be an easy fix..!"
Ah to explore her curvaceous
beauty he would most
assuredly spend days
Adonis then whispered
"Fair Lady, pray tell, what is
thy name...?" With just one
word t'ween parted full lips
"Helen....." t'was what came
The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill
it had been there for centuries forgotten
none now knew for what purpose it had been used
not even the elders who had many suggestions
A not unattractive looking building of stone
and that in it's self only added to the mystery
for these stones were not locally quarried
the nearest place being over 170 miles away
Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed
wrestling them into place quite some task
an imposing building nestled in the hillside
and the views surrounding it post card perfect
Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone
a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall
large enough for a man to walk into upright
Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche
This was all that was left apart from one roofed room
in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed
admittedly very rockety but still it was usable
I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun
The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set
tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling
I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire
soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting
It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful
so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire
I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past
lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep
I found the building restored though it's use still not clear
only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off
then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed
he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table
Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal
I realised from their armour that these were soldiers
so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post
I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream
As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it
drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke
curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive
not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape
I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme
for a poem so I wrote this.
June 2 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Job 5-7
Key Verse – Job 5:8 I would seek unto God, and unto God would I commit my cause.
HEART THAT SEEKS GOD TO COMMIT OUR CAUSE
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His faith that moves great mount
As He leads us by His strength so sins we can surmount---
So abundant are His blessings we cannot count
Truly reinforcing our trust in His grace-fount.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His righteousness
As He turns us from crookedness---
So wondrous are His ways for our holiness
Truly directing our testimony toward His uprightness.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His sovereignty
As He guards us from sins’ captivity---
So authoritative are His commandments of instructing certainty
Truly moulding our lives by His integrity.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His rejoicing
As He protects us from doubts’ piercing---
So timely are His provisions never ceasing
Truly cheering our spirituality for glad worship-praising.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His heritage
As He surrounds us from worldliness’ voltage---
So grand are His riches of eternal advantage
Truly pointing our sight toward heavenly vantage.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His peace-jubilation
As He inspires us from misery and frustration---
So bright are His miracles against gloomy anticipation
Truly purifying our anxieties by His salvation’s perfection.
Our heart seeks God to commit our cause upon His delight
As He illumines us from doubts of anxiety’s blight---
So wise are His counsels for servanthood and stewardship plight
Truly propelling our ministry involvement toward divine accomplishment height.
June 2, 2026
The furniture clatters around me.
An illustrious barrel of a goodbye.
The sweater feels like a prop; a famed memo to the stage I subsist on.
A famed memo to the audience I secrete from.
A famed memo to the veracity I refute from.
I soar across the stage, each cry an offering to the void of my shrouded forbearance.
Its crestfallen crumbles stroke the silver of my scars.
Its impeded hamper caresses the gold of my dune.
Its incumbered burden engulfs the bronze of my bane.
Each string pulls at the silenced span of my limbs, a muted call for mercy.
The ignominy of their vigour sings a melodic turpitude against the evil of my imitation.
The potency of their strength strips me until I dress with nothing but the disinclined humiliation of my lingering obedience.
Each relic of their excess sadism carves a carnage into my eternally dissipated flesh.
The sapped vex of its chafe stamps restated stains of a sinful hein; a wound of my forever domination.
Blots of blood pool onto the stage, a sacrificial submission to the performance of my moulding stupor.
The decay of my illumination pulls at me.
A distinct elucidation to the corruption of my core.
A puppet bound by her own vein-stricken strings.