Long Noticed Poems
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Dear Tony,
I see a broken and bruised heart; and I alone can relieve your awful pain.
You must realize that I am desperately trying to reach out to you;
but there are limits to my ability to enter the doors of your heart.
You continue denying me entry and ignoring all my communications.
I know if it were not for the blinders and the fog, you would let me in
I am certain that you are well aware of the padded locks on your doors
You most asuredly have noticed all the iron bars and boards blocking me
Many others have gained entry; and I only ask, "Why not me who love you more?"
We knew each other well when your were young; but now you feel no need for me. You are surrounded and locked away by selfish people who do not really care about you. They do not love you and only want what's yours; I desire not yours; but you alone. They have nothing to give, but everything to take. I have nothing to take, but everything to give. Oh *Tony, you realize this fact in your heart, but you are very lonely and afraid to let them go.
You are being consumed by unsatisfying amusements that leave you cold and miserable. I cannot force my way through all the smoke and mirrors, the false and fading. I know that You don't really want me out; but you want so many others in. Unfortunately, you cannot have both me and them. I am sorry that I cannot be 'just another' among the many who cater to you.
I have called, emailed, texted, and sent regular mail without response.
But please understand that my love for you remains and will never die; I am here for you always.
Longing to be your friend, Jesus
08162017FBTGPSContesy, Let Me Into Your Heart, Julie Rodeheaver, 3Pl.
*I once had a friend name Tony who died from an overdose of Narcotics
Natural
Went at stream strand to watch twilight ! The Sun went down. Started walk back to
home. Darkness to embower soon, peeping crescent Moon.Evening merging to night.
Too much tired was my feet.Hankering for car lift. Noticed headlights of a car
approaching from back. I stood getting no option. Car in slow motion. No response,
though showed hand. Seemed useless , just to stand. Pulled car-door: I preferred.
and hurriedly I entered. Got stunned, looked aslant. Driver seat was vacant. Car went
as usual, but in slow walking speed. Got puzzled, but what to do ? Ghost driver ! No
clue. Suddenly car hit bump. Promptly I made a jump. Man behind car came out.
He was pushing : No doubt.
Visual
Went at stream strand to watch
twilight ! The Sun went down.
Started walk back to home.
7 Darkness to embower soon,
5 peeping crescent Moon.
Evening merging to night.
Too much tired was my feet
hankering for car lift.
Noticed headlights of a car.
5 approaching from back.
7 I stood getting no option.
5 Car in slow motion.
No response, though showed hand.
Seemed useless , just to stand.
Pulled car-door: I preferred.
and hurriedly I entered.
Got stunned, looked aslant.
Driver seat was vacant.
Car went as usual,
but in slow walking speed.
7 Got puzzled, but what to do ?
5 Ghost driver ! No clue.
Suddenly car hit bump.
Promptly I made a jump.
Man behind car came out.
He was pushing : No doubt.
Sir – dearest Vicar,
You also came to sing?
Of course, after the third crow
Of our life-void cock
We had gathered like song-throated weavers
Highly assorted souls rallied
To sing his high-pitched liberty
– It was like Earth’s freedom! –
You also came for the rally?
Sir – darest Vicar,
You came robed in red & black
Was it intent to harp a requiem?
You came to dent the mood of the rally
As if old Mandela could be dead
On our outing day of his young freedom?
You came like a double-singing linnet
(Sir, a curious lad heard it told!)
To harp a dirge on our liberty –
Sir – darest Vicar,
Lads & lasses, babes & greys heard it
Each sighing beast clearly noticed
The counter-point in the smooth voice –
(So soft, so serene, so sacred in sound!)
You also came to the curious of the clan
A sombre linnet lyring your semi-liberty?
Soon were lads & lasses fed-up –
When would the linnet lyre in songs again?
Form:
What Is A Poet 6
Language arts with imagery emotions
To slow things down
Free handed in your own words
An authentic letter
As the night closes in
The curtains are drawn to write un-noticed
The atmosphere becomes a bit curious
An isolated poet is suddenly at work
Unspoken lines begins to shift unapologetically
Cursive writings becomes almost obsolete
Empty spaces are engulfed
Puddles of rain, reflects painted clouds above
Write honestly through life experiences
As the pen carries the weight
Start writing, for it's never too late
Be unique and descriptive
Poets are misunderstood and peculiar
As heartfelt words echo
Thoughts are reminiscing as my coffee burns poetic aromas
Into the woods on a bright summers day
With a basket of food for her Grandma
But before she arrived she would pick a bouquet
A gift for her Grandma on this her birthday
She noticed the gamekeeper passing her by
So called out his name as she waved him goodbye
Normally friendly, but today Wolf looked down
As she saw on his face an embarrassing frown
She decided to check if her Granny was up
So she got out her mobile to call and checkup
She heard a strange voice but the signal was poor
Grandma’s voice was too deep, said she wanted to sleep
Maybe visit tomorrow for today she felt weak
This made her suspicious she started to shake
For her dear sweet Grandma should be baking a cake
She decided to call on her friend PC Blake
For her instinct was telling her something was wrong
as she called him to ask could he please come along
So together they wended their way through the wood
Nearing Grandma’s chalet, she removed her red hood
As they reached her front door, heard a voice shout for more
So perplexed and alarmed they went in fully armed
But imagine their shock, not believing their eyes
For Grandma was getting a birthday surprise
Grandma and Wolf stark-naked on the floor
Cavorting and frolicking, they were making amour
So discreetly they left, gently closing Grandma’s door…
8th January 2019
Competition: Into The Woods
Sponsor: Silent One
2nd placement
A different take on this ancient fairy tale...
Contest BRIAN STRAND YOU CHOOSE
Sponsor Brian Strand
The restaurant was wonderful;
The food was well prepared.
The atmosphere was cozy
And I liked the booth we shared.
The waiter, super-friendly,
Was attentive and the beer
Was a local IPA, which made
Me grin from ear to ear.
Yet glancing at the other diners,
What I noticed first
Was the fact that everyone was old
And what was interspersed
At their tables were their walkers
Or their wheelchairs or their canes.
Still, they ate and drank and laughed and maybe
I can’t quite explain,
But it made me understand how life
In Florida is sold -
Not to get away from winter,
But to join your fellow old.
For Angie
The hallways rotated over and around me, maybe it was that aged smell of antiseptic affecting my equilibrium...
Trying to keep my feet, bracing the wall of the room she was assigned with my hand to gain my balance, I was overcome with
hot vibrations
of past voices, shrieking, pleading, crying out for lost loved ones at the time of their greatest need...
unanswered
Slumping to a chair, I felt the weight of despair
Nothing, nobody
My will to live had been broken
Shaking myself, I knew I needed to be released from this
Possession of my soul, so I began praying...
'God, grant these souls entrance to Your Kingdom, reach out with Your Loving Grace to hold them and keep them in Your Love'
Free at last, the orderly asked if everything was alright, I said No...he said, I'm sorry, I need you to sign these papers for Insurance, we have a patient waiting for this room and Housekeeping needs to finish some tasks
Angie's heart had given up, but the cause of death was listed as covid
I just got up from my chair, set the forms down, and walked out, the orderly pleading behind Me "sir, sir, the papers!"
Housekeeping brushed hurriedly past me as I hit the elevator
Down button, entered and
Released at the lobby floor,
Stepping out to the fresh air,
I noticed a Ruby Throated Hummingbird alight on a trumpet flower nearbye, sip, then pause to acknowledge me and spun straight-up...
Heaven awaited
11/12/21
The ways of the world are a mysterious thing
So perfectly displayed and manifest
In the dance of man and woman.
It can take a lifetime to learn the moves
A lifetime of missteps and stumbles
Because the signals are so easily crossed
And lost in the dance of two
That if nothing else are fundamental opposites.
As a man I’m sure I’m simple and easy to read
And as a man I am continually amazed
By the complexity of the women in my life.
There is an aspect of femininity I want to address
But which remains almost taboo
Behind a natural shield of codified social graces
It’s something I have noticed now for a lifetime
But never presumed to articulate
And now that I try
I’m not even sure how to begin
So strong the natural shield and social façade
Behind the dance of seven veils
A young but not so innocent Salome is revealed.
A seductive flower in all its simple beauty
Soft and vulnerable, fragrant with the promise
Of a sweet nectar within
If its yielding nature is tapped
And a veritable flood released,
If not, if the mood passes
Or never was to begin,
Then there is always the stem of thorns
Catching for one last bite
A gentle wag with a vicious snarl in reserve,
A coy look edged with mocking distain.
The mysterious dance of opposites
Is of course a complimentary push and pull
Outwardly in the twining pair
And inwardly hidden within the gentle rose
A taut conflict that makes the hint
Of possible cooperation and submission
All the sweeter;
One so eager to take
The other so able to give,
A bountiful supply rising to meet demand
But only if and when their natures yield.
(6/13/26)
We are besieged in our garden
By a calculating Cat
Who’s decided we’re its Humans
And that’s the end of that.
It’s there every morning
Sitting in our Patio chair
And when we go to bed
It’s still sitting there.
It disappears at odd times
For various reasons of its own
But for the vast bulk of the day
We are seldom left alone.
The slightest movement on our part
Arouses it from its apparent slumber
And it’s up to the French Door
Giving us the Evil Eye Number.
We’re resisting wholeheartedly
With all our body and soul
But day by day we feel
It’s nearer getting in control.
Friends and family all tell us
There’s many worse fates than that
Of being the Chosen Carer
Of a Wily Calculating Cat.
It’s standing on the step now
Giving me that unwavering stare
Just to emphasise the point
That it’s still waiting there.
I noticed cat food on the shopping list.
I tell Sue its not a matter of the cost.
If we just crack once and feed it
We’ll be forever lost, lost, lost.
We’ve brushed it and combed it
And it got a little huffy
But at least now a days
It’s less unkempt and scruffy
And, of course its still waiting
Patiently out the back.
It’s a tense war of nerves
As to which of us will crack.
Asking to be seen has never felt more suffocating.
Like I’m always at odds.
With myself and the people who care for me
Or so I think.
The nature of one who wants to be noticed and also accepted
Becomes an eyesore to most.
I hate the phrase.
“My heart on a sleeve”.
Like I want that.
People knowing what I feel and not even considering it…. It’s a different kind of pain.
Interests.
Likes.
Dislikes.
They make me sick to my stomach.
I wanted a safe space, a place where I can matter.
Not that I’d become a ghost in the house we built.
It’s cold this summer, but my sweater isn’t with me.
I stare at you, your back to me as the air changes.
You clutch onto it, smiles to strangers we didn’t grow with..
You forgot who gave it to you, the sweater.
They gather around you, like they care and want to know more.
They don’t, none of them ever do.
I did at a time.
Though, you get carried away.
Like the only moment that matters is in new places and with new people.
And I’m left all alone
Per usual
But the cold gets to you
You realize what the sky had been telling you
This time I choose…
I choose peace and quietly walk away
Bygones be bygones
One thing for sure is,
Never again
I’m not going to be taken……