Long Night and day Poems
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My son had come back home to stay for just a little while.
He brought with him his terrier friend; a lively, puppy child.
The skinny, little half grown dog came bounding through my door.
I couldn’t realize at the time, all he’d become . . and more.
For sure he tipped the apple cart when first he entered in.
His lively spirit made me think, I’d not know peace again.
The walks with my old terrier dog were all that I could want.
Soon slow and steady, calm, serene, became a grueling jaunt.
Old dog sniffed each bush and tree, as young dog plunged ahead.
While I was pulled this way and that and mostly seeing red.
And God forbid another dog come ambling on our way;
My stress filled walk would soon become, an all out frenzied fray.
He plagued the cats, barked at the door: he loved to sit and howl.
While I just tore my hair out: yet I found that all this while;
He simply grew to grow on me despite his naughty ways.
And as the time began to pass we had some better days.
While in his quiet moments; he just loved my generous lap.
Liked to have his belly rubbed: lay with me for a nap.
He liked to give wet kisses, till I had to tell him, “No."
Loved the car: turned inside out, whenever I said “Go”.
My son moved on, as sons will do, endeavoring to be free.
And by this time we both agreed; young dog should stay with me.
And when old dog forsook my side, because God said he must;
I found the young dog next to me gave all his love and trust.
He stayed beside me night and day and never asked to leave.
He seemed to sense I needed him, along with time to grieve.
I then began to understand what a nice dog lived with me,
For in the old dog’s shadow; he’d become all he could be!
But fate became unkind to us and time was not his friend.
The young dog only stayed awhile, then moved on once again.
And this time I was all alone, with no friend by my side.
My days were filled with missing him, while nights I'd lay and cry.
I know they are together now, in a place God made for them:
These happy creatures sent to earth to be my loyal friends.
I know their spirits run and play; nevermore will they know pain.
Because of this, despite my grief; I’d not wish them back again.
But I’ll remember each of them, through all my days that pass.
It's really hard for me to say, whose loved first and whose loved last?
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
What is the difference between night and day... between darkness and light... Evil and good... Angel and Demon... How can we live among each other and survive.. hearing about hope.. trust.. honesty... and how can they live with Lust, despair, depression, agony, anger and such heartlessness...
You speak to me about this word called "Hope"..
Everyone has a chance to create their own lives.. to change the hand they were dealt
That there is something better out there
You just have to remind yourself of all the small happiness that happened to you over the years and it soon becomes greater than the despair..
You claim to be sadness.. to be depression..
In reality you just have moments of lowness...
Your world is surrounded with beautiful waving trees
A sunset that lights up the dawn sky
Somehow the ocean looks beautiful to you, the glistening of the sun upon the waves
You see happiness in everything that happens to you, you see something positive in all the things life gave you
But..
What if we do not see the same thing, what if I live in the darkness...
The deranged half of this world of which you cannot see..
What if everything you see, I see in complete blackness..
The sky is grey, the ocean is red... and the aura around my world is chained to a dark future..
How is it that we can live on the same planet.. but see two different views..
I can sense your light.. you can sense the darkness I hold within me.. All I see for you is a horrible ending.. Your hope.. is my dark secret
In my world I see you as the beggar.. the one who tells you good tales.. but can never prove them.. and keep asking for your attention.. they want you to believe them.. but yet you cannot see the sun in bright orange colors because in your world there is no sun .. there is only a moon...
Your beautiful day for me is like the desecration of a grave...
So I will ask you again...
What is the difference between night and day... between darkness and light... Evil and good... Angel and Demon... How can we live among each other and survive.. hearing about hope.. trust.. honesty... and how can they live with Lust, despair, depression, agony, anger and such heartlessness... ?
Does light.. somehow stabilize.. the darkness... ?
Can a Demon live without lusting for something pure?
How is it that the day can turn into night so quickly as if its not painful.. ?
The Master Artist Pt 1 --Pt 2--the ending, is the next posting
The artist’s tray was loaded with colors, each pastel waiting for its turn:
Hues of indigo blues lie impatiently, sparks of carmine seemed to burn.
While English chrome colors lay in anticipation for the Master’s touch.
The yellow ochre pansies readied to fill the void on the painter’s scene.
Each hue was waiting for its turn but chosen first was the yellow green.
Winds blew lightly against the canvas and upon each color that he lay
Each sound had a melodic lilt as the grass seemed to grow and sway
Under a fountain of colors, each strike radiant upon the colored field.
Cerulean blue skies lightly painted waited for a stray, pearl-grey cloud
To float above the lively meadow, yet no spring rain would be allowed.
The artist was tired, yet couldn’t wait to return quickly the next day.
Morning came and his fervent fingers reached for the pastels that lay
Undiscovered upon the palette—more hues waiting for their chance.
He painted a sapphire blue creek moving snake-like up then down.
The artist smiled wisely, painting groves of trees of Van Dyke brown.
Afternoon came and pastel shades were glazed upon the flowing water
As the creek rippled over the violet stones painted on by the Master.
He seemed to lose all sense of night and day as each hue told a story.
Colors flew from left to right and the meadow seemed to come alive
Ruby hues were topped upon the phlox as fragrant flowers did thrive.
His hand would not cease until he had painted the bluebird at its song.
The misty meadow was melodious as he painted crickets to sing along.
The artist looked upon his growing scene and knew what it still needed
But his hand was weary and the pastel scene would wait another day
For colors that still lay brightly unused upon the Master Artist’s tray.
The next day he painted against the sky purple hills gently sun-kissed.
His hands worked with great passion as twisting trees seemed to tryst.
Pastel colors floated upon the land as pink butterflies flew here and there.
Sounds of songbirds were singing as his meadow seemed to nearly burst
With every color and every hue that the great artist had fervently dispersed.
Part Two has the Master Artist poem ending that I posted after this one--
(PoetrySoup doesn't allow enough space)
Where are the children? Where are the children this night and day? In the African nation of South Sudan, there is a horrible famine. Their families, and their children are perishing because they are starving to death.
World television pastors, such as Rod Parsley, are pledged to help provide assistance. The Daystar and TBN networks really providing: fresh water and wells, medical, and dental care, food and of course shoes.
The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America has our world hunger fund, The Baptist, and charismatic churches sponsor missionaries. Professional athletes and entertainment industry's actors and musicians sponsor their own non-profit organizations. The Red Cross, and Salvation Army and Habit for Humanity etc. The list could go on endlessly. Yet photos of starving children we constantly see.
Many people have wondered why? Is there really a God above us in heaven's lofty skies? And if he does exist, does he even care about us? "The poor you will always have with you, you shall not always have me with you." He was addressing Jesus. Yes, God really does care! His ministry welcomed the little children and denied them not for such is the kingdom of heaven. We must have the faith of a child to please him and enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Where are the children? They need responsible people to care for both their physical spiritual needs. The secular world addresses their physical needs from cradle to the grave. The unborn children and their mothers need special treatment and care. What happens to an unborn child from conception if it dies? The child is immediately welcomed into the presence of Jesus Christ in the kingdom of heaven. It is their grieving mothers, fathers, and families needing both spiritual and emotional tender loving care TLC.
Just suppose the unborn child would have been severely disabled from birth? God knits us together in our mother's wombs. The physical conception process with a male's sperm fertilizing a female's egg. The sin nature of mankind is responsible not God. When Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of the Knowlege of Good and Evil--sin entered into the DNA of people. Death and destruction also entered in. Where are the children? Under the shelter of his everlasting arms.
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
aka Roxy Lea 1954
August 05, 2017
Our drive started out like any typical summer trip into Philadelphia. Both buses rolling down the highway loaded with screaming teens, eager to reach their destination in a hurry. Rush-hour traffic was heavy, the white lines hidden beneath watery mirages that lifted only briefly beneath underpasses. The skyscrapers were barely visible through the thick haze of summer's heat. The skyline had the appearance of night and day clashing off in the distance. You could smell the rain approaching.
along city streets
slight breeze carries aroma
food and wet pavement
Once the children were safely inside, the buses continued to 30th street station, the only place the city allows buses to park free. The windows were all still down and the roof hatches open as the skyline grew darker. A light show was off in the distance and approaching quickly. The homeless people were now entering the train station in hopes to stay dry and earn a meal or some quick cash.
almost homeless
young girl wears a sign
on the corner
Inside the train station a young family sits on a bench awaiting the arrival of a family member. The benches line the hallway with vendors tucked in the center isle. We sit across from the young family, facing them as an elderly gentleman approaches them. In his arms he carries a sketchpad and a piece of charcoal. The little boy, probably about 10 years old, has grown tired of sitting by now, and his teenage sitters seem agitated by his silly games, the mother in frustration hands him money for a sketch.
with quick hands
he carefully sketches
to perfection
The oldest sister now amazed asks for her's as well. The man sketches her picture to a beautiful black and white replica. The mother refuses to spend another dime and sends him away without paying. Behind us sits another elderly man. He seems to be carrying on a very intelligent conversation with himself. This amazes the children for their final hour and fills them with much knowledge as they slide in to listen.
an old man speaks
as he looks to his right
just his cane sits
The last train has now entered the station and the crowds of people are disappearing outside. The storm has now passed and the sky left a permanent black with the coming of night. We headed outside to the buses to begun our return trip home.
on the street
two yellow buses
filled with rain
I’m at the bar in Havasu
I thought I was through with you…
Guess I wasn’t after all
Lonely and wishing I could cuddle you wild
Sorry that I have been down and about
I miss you tremendously no doubt
I know I sound desperate
I need to quit it...just a bit…
Maybe, baby,
You and I are meant to be; well, possibly
It could happen, you see?
Maybe, baby,
You and I could be free
I want to set you free from captivity
Companion, I must be crazy…
How you held me last night…
Took away my midnight fright
How you fulfilled my needs…
You shared with me your adoration seeds
I bred you with my authentic words of love
I have been entranced by bluebirds from above
Brainwashed by the MK Ultra lullabies…
Brainwashed by society’s downfallen lies
Unbrainwash me, my love…
My bittersweet darling of mine
Unbrainwash me, for I rove
Towards the end of times’ sign
Tainted by the torment of this difficult life
Fainted at His sight and lived through strife
Painted a picture of you and I in rainbow delight
I love you like a saint loves His scriptures tonight
Sorry if I sound desperate all day and night
I guess meeting you was fate – our date felt right
It was meant to be, but being with me
Sounds great – it’s never too late to be free
Feeling the hate when I should be in love…
You handed me roses with prickly thorns
Thoughtlessly, I bled for the sake of love…
You could be an angel with devil horns
I suppose we were compatible in some way
Sorry if I sound desperate all night and day
Fading faith force-fed me with dreadfulness
You maintained faith within my soul of sadness
Murder my madness and mesmerize me with mere merriment
Memorized your forgiving face in the spacious, marvelous sky, I can’t deny
Sentiments sweetly shimmer anew with no hint of resentment
Immobilized by impairment of my heart’s hopefulness that won’t ever dry
Enduring in these hardships the best I can on this Earth
Endearment encourages me to engage in elevating mirth
Eternal exuberance embarks upon my engulfed mind of mysterious melody
My isolation is melting away like ice in the fire, a divine sunshine of serenity
I have been so desperately, so genuinely,
Looking for someone to be with sincerely
Well, I’m heading home now and baby, please know
That maybe we are a flawless match, a fabulous show
As the morning peaks over the hill, I wander through the dark and stroll down the park and whisper a silent prayer for my rose. Its fragrance filters throughout the atmosphere touching hearts far and near, it is the part of me that you cannot see that is always crying out for thee and deep down in my heart I want you to set her free. She has sacrificed for everyone; cleaning garbage and emptying pan, but no one ever says thanks.
My heart goes out for thee and I will do anything for you to set her free, she spends longs hours typing away on the computer, writing long letter some of them are more than fifteen pages , long enough to turn into a book or a lyrical song. I don’t know exactly what she does but she works night and day and when she is not outside the yard cleaning the garbage, she is at the computer typing away.
She wants to go to a country where she can breathe fresh air, she detests being over here; I don’t’ like the way they treat her and I don’t like the way they communicate with her, sometimes my spirit groans when I look at her clothes. She walks around in dirty clothes and doesn’t even have soap to clean her body and I feel very sorry.
They use her and abuse her; she is the money-making machine and the brains behind the wheel. She is educated to the highest level but goes to bed hungry almost every night. Please help her to get out of this awful plight.
She is brilliant, focused and fit and has the remedy for everything, she is stable and kind and is in love with the divine, where that person is I don’t know but I can tell when she sits and look into space, she is bringing the image of a close friend to the center of her being .
She loves writing but she would love to do that at another place so please don’t stand in her way. Please give her what she needs so that she can fulfill her lingering dreams.She has a big soul and she love from the depth of her heart and when the day is done it breaks my heart to see that no one cares for her.
She doesn’t get pay for what she does and she work for long hours seven days per week without a single pay; they have turned her into a money machine making but I hope that she will fulfill her dreams when she unites with destiny beyond the hill, she will continue writing those inspiring letters.
That’s All
Christine
Ella Cuthbert lived with her husband John, in an age of twinkling stars;
They had a little dog named Alfie, who loved riding in pretty, swift cars.
Alfie was loved by those who knew him, as red flowers charm adorers;
And he was the darling of their street, like rainbows, crossing borders.
The Cuthberts had many interests, and on lazy days they were content,
To rove summer streets with Alfie, wondering where blue violets went!
Friends do not go out of style, as the glittery, memory stars, flash lime.
They found fun activities for Fridays, when pearl moon began to climb.
Funky family visited feature-rich evening, in faultless days of summer;
Amidst feasibly fragrant, flambe flowers, swaying to sudden thunder.
Ella lived in a house of barking, at motley windows of Alfie excitement,
Where bluebirds and ruby butterflies met, on mysterious assignments.
Sea salt added flavor to sweet breezes, on the street of Port Goodbye;
That overlooked white sand and surf, where stars peeked, like a spy.
Nervous night and day were newlyweds, at the dawn of fading dreams.
Later filled with novelty and notions, and neighbors, amidst sunbeams.
'Mountain devils' bloomed wickedly red, in the beautiful Blue Mountains,
Aptly shaped blue puya blooms, trumpeted sunrise, near cool fountains.
Purple 'surprise lilies' were stunners, appearing abruptly the world over,
When the rare 'parsley fern' was savored, like beautiful, coming closer.
Eager Ella called Alfie one day, but was dismayed at getting no answer!
Yet, a hole under their fence said a lot, like a scented, blooming planter.
Crushed Ella and John went searching, like the spotlight of pearl moon.
Though posters offered a reward, they felt anxiety, on the edge of June.
Then woeful Ella finally uttered the words, that became a beloved rhyme;
Like when riotous spring blooms come early, sweetly ahead of their time!
After a week, Alfie was found at last, in the thrill of mockingbird evening;
When a lady chanced to read his collar, when pink stars were convening!
'Oh, where, oh, where
Has my little dog gone?
Oh, where, oh, where
Can he be?
With his ears cut short
And his tail cut long,
Oh, where, oh, where
Can he be?
Oh where, oh where
Has my little dog gone?
Oh, where, oh, where
Can he be?'
I can recall the first time she ever held me in her arms and looked into my
eyes… she was more different than anyone else I would ever come to know. It
was the way that she touch me, that said to me, no harm would ever come upon
you as Iong as I was here... it was the way that she looked at me that told me
how deeply she cared. As I got older sometimes I wouldn't always do
what she told me to do.
Somehow she still managed to let the warmth of her smile still come through, to
despite her distain for what I had did, it was a look that said you can do better if
you only try? I can’t bring her back to me... as I sit here by her final resting place.
As these never ending blue tear drops flow down my face both night and day.
Oh how I miss momma and wish that she we’re still here to wipe away my
blue tears?
If she was still here, I know she would wipe away my blue tears... and she would
pull out one of those old handkerchiefs that she kept in her old purse and
she would then say to me.., don’t cry my baby everything will be okay. Now blow
your nose and let me see that smile on your face?
As the six of those elderly men carried her down those steps and as I followed
along, just thinking to myself...she can’t be gone? As they started to lower her
beautiful white casket into it's final resting place, I did come to realize, no more
would I see her smile that would make the pain go away and the boogieman
seem like a bad friend misbehaving that when she would appeared he would
just run away. Now here I stand a broken hearted man, but I weep like that baby
she once knew years ago... I know momma has the Angels smiling and laughing
up there?
Truly God must have already known there was one Angel still left down here on
earth and that he needed them to to come back home, so he called for momma
late one February night. God already knew about your warm kisses that could
put the suns warmth to shame and he knew about hugs that you could
give that put a tight sweater to shame.
I miss you momma, I know you are passing out those old handkerchiefs of yours
from out of that old purse you use to carry and wiping Angels noses and
mending their wings...I miss you mother, but I'm sure they did too.
Form:
I had a girl for company.
She answered to the name, Time.
It was love at first sight;
who else could've a girl like mine?
Moments we lived in, were dreams
We spoke through thoughts, no words to tell.
She was a pretty witch
& I was cast under her spell..
An elixir in flesh and bone;
her voice thrilled me, her warmth filled me.
My skin longed for her touch, enticing;
a moment's caress can surpass eternity.
Lady Luck roared, my aims soared;
I had aspirations now.
I got used to Her appraisals;
drunk on her fortunes..& how!
My aims soared, my demons roared,
"She's wasting your life away!!
Share your life with some better lass
and ditch her, without delay."
Thus my gal Time, I did show the door.
I then sought ambition's hand.
Success & fame, all went and came;
for them, I was a one-night-stand.
Smashed by sadness, I searched for company.
Looking afar,'twas Time, I could tell.
She walked alone, roaming in solitude.
Was I missing, in her life as well?
And so I called out to her,
"Blinded by ambition, our love I did kill.
These wounds I'd like to heal,
so we can be lovers still.."
Desperation drove me after her.
Untrodden paths, my feet did pound.
I felt, she was just a mirage:
why did she not turn around?
Blind to all around me,
I stumbled, on objects unknown.
And fell tumbling, towards a stream,
where to me, my thirst was shown.
Exhausted, leaden limbs
dragging myself to the edge, I drank.
Thirst quenched, I looked in
to see a face staring back..
I took a closer look to see:
alas, it's my own image.
Fingers worn out by fatigue.
A face ravaged by age..
Then I felt my own weight on me;
my body defeated, paralysed.
'twas then, that Time came to me;
It was her all along, I realised.
"Oh, what a fool, you've been.
With your eyes, could you have not seen?
That I'm time, itself, past, present, and what is to be;
forever young, if with me, you had always been.."
"When you had me, you had all of time;
to chase ambitions, night and day.
Erase absolute blunders, at a moment's passing!
For time was yours, here to stay.."
"Don't you know time and tide, wait for none?.
When you left me, you wasted time away.
So when you started chasing me again,
did you expect, forever young, you'd stay?"
(an older poem rewritten)