Long Onslaughts Poems
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The awake awakened with wide eyes wide-opened.
Calls of the screaming sea, calling calls ceaselessly.
Pound-pounding ears attend, weakening abandon,
wend sea claps yonder, and then only beyond then,
toasting impacts extend hosting eyes to pretend.
Gestures the forgiving, bestirs the towering,
ceaseless battering and charging colliding send,
the onslaught incursion shape equal dispersion.
Sea cliffs under pressure free stiffed asunder sever,
cast in watery graves caused by tottery waves.
Assembling forethoughts resembling onslaughts,
the battered is scattered about,
and the shattered, splattering doubts.
New roles, the lesser deep as guardians o'er a wet scrapheap,
shorn from tempestuous holds ...
fragmented carnage neath ruling waves rolled.
Spectacular
Solace in the words and advices that bring comfort and relief
Planning with enthusiasm the life that you deserve from now
Embracing without any fear or resistance the earthly existence
Creating a valuable legacy that resists the onslaughts that appear
Tantalizing marvelous changes that would result in great benefits
Alluring an ethereal atmosphere that exudes thriumph and success
Composing a joyful song that is whispered in the wind as a whisper
Unveiling a gaeity that is expressed without words in your face
Lavishing in a link of efforts that reap in a meaningful sow
Acclaiming you as a winner that never give up during adversities
Rebuilding the foundation of the new person you had become
1-19-2016
I know that all of God's creation serve their good function and purpose,
but there are forces of nature and systems that add fuel to the fire.
They are many and various, and in my neck of the woods, we are
experiencing one presently. They usually come with a little bit of
tease that's never designed to please around late Spring, early June.
No one invites them, but they come anyway like they own the place.
They don't seem to wave goodby to Spring nor say hello to Summer.
They simply show up with a bang, hang around for a bit, and disappear.
But if anyone really knows them, they will surely return in energized bunches.
When the meteorologists forecast their coming, we must not take them for granted. In some places, they are harmful in the 90's, but in other places and regions like mine, we take them serious when their temperatures reach into the century zone. At that level, we waste no time preparing and building defenses against their onslaughts of heat. Heat Waves come, and Heat Waves go, but through the Summer, they are continually coming and going.
A couple of years ago, our air conditional went out in the heart of a Heat Wave. Not cool and Not good. I'm not a weatherman, but my best advisory for Heat Wave versus broken down air conditioners is, "Don't try this at home".
061821PS
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
Resolutions Poetry
Related meanings I have to firmly determine myself
Everyone lies to themselves resolvere, "to loosen, undo, settle."
Stick-to-it-iveness pertinaciousness we find ourselves in abated promises
O bstinacy my power over myself obduracy obdurateness fosters my grit
Loyal testiments truths stout-heartedness
Unified in boldness steadfastness dedication commitment in awe
Tenacity, tenacity, tenacity strong-mindedness constancy
Intension intentness fixity of purpose when we change our minds
Openly staying power spiritedness strength of character
No one tries hard as us purposefulness resolute yearly onslaughts
So we all promise to do better
01/19/20
~Placed 10th in contest
Acrostic poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
"Realities rights;
There is perfect, truths and insights;
Some Christian music Artist sing of the joys, the love of God and Jesus;
Sing and write those stories, from the whispering lips of God
A kiss to the lungs and ears;
Righteousness preached;
Reality rights vivid onslaughts
Real life, reality writes
Very, very, few artists have had there (original) songs
published inside Church hymnals Of any and all denominations
Some have been in the 80's & 90's such a Andre Crouch
Someone(s) of power should rally a yearly honored Christian songwriter
To be dove, complied and placed in Christians hymnals
My pick if I had the charge and power would be
"Truth Be Told" by MATTHEW WEST
Please if you're reading this go on line and listen to/read every word of this song
it well bless your soul and heart
Every word is Godly, (not manly) Godly true
and every WORD of this song applies to ALL humanity
each and every church, every man, woman, boy and girl
O' let's All start over
Truths be TOLD"
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
~We need to lead by God's Word and non denominational teachings were we differ Help us Father God your sheep of other folds~
It’s not just Jesus who rose into grace with scars from nails and the cross
Trees grow new branches from knots like wounded soul’s blemish’s scars
A rainforest’s undergrowth thrives in the mist of weeping from heaven
Ebony needs ivory for harmony preferably with tusks attached to the rhino
An elephant under cover of the hat inside a boa constrictor pleases the Prince
Joaquin would write poetry had he not been swallowed by a black raven
On his shoulders and dogs that growl can bite fiercely with razor sharp fangs
Puncture marks empathize when they emphasize conjunction and junctures
A semicolon tattoo depicts the survivor from darkness shadows and light
No smoke without fire and his pen could not heal without fountains of sorrow
Juanita views wrinkles and stretch marks as cinnamon bark’s fine poise
Hides no longer self-harm lacerations with bracelets or covering bangles
Heals from a maze of disgraced projections owns grazes slashes and cuts
Paints a new canvas frames it with witch-hazel twigs leaves howling behind
Sounds all three pedals on forte’s piano has dampened onslaughts of fear
Joseph is a seer who had once lost his vision had dangled his ropes both sides
Of the sea saw but recovered the fulcrum of balance reads palm trees and palms
Life lines strife lines blisters blistering hardship hardened calluses’ resilience
Scars do not scare him as he places his faith into prayer gracing graces and hope
Tosses tussles meaning and harmony moulds silent retreat into flickering candles
‘Can’t put all your eggs into one basket no ominous pancakes without breakage’
What does not bend splinters and rages oozes and festers in foul purulent rage
Confusion needs contradictory feelings or one crosses Styx and Acheron too early
And the boatman needs both oars and currents to negotiate drift wood and pain
Any two master needs departure and destination roaring storms and calm respite
True ivory cannot be burnt and grace is a virtue but not without turning the table
21st April 2019
Are you not a believer?
Sometimes God will take you through things
to test out your beliefs
And every time He proved that it's not you who believe
But He will make you believe
So don't think your faith is so strong
that you can withstand all onslaughts
You are not good, not strong
If God didn't build the house
No matter what you do, it will not stand
So don't think for a moment that you are the one
who holds down the fort
the one who fights with the enemy
Oh yeah you can have enemies
You just don't see it
And sometimes you see them
But anything you do concerning you
God is doing it for you
Sometimes He takes you there himself
And for a short while tested you
Or teaches you a lesson
Who knows?
But at the end - glory
I can't tell you too much
because He can decide to skip it all together
Who knows?
But just know He will teach a lesson
when it's concerning Him
Ruler who rules
Yeah
I am so tired
because each day is a different day
- a different lesson plan
Don't know when He will be finished with me
Don't know when He will say "okay you graduated"
Probably never - knowing Him
But maybe I don't know Him
Just kidding
I don't know if I am kidding or not
You get me all wind up
No I am not kidding!
I Remember You
Yes, I remember you,
the dark-skinned girl,
dressed in tight corduroy,
unzipped on the floor there.
You were my lover that night in 1970;
We were wrestling
so smoothly, so passionately,
in the old brick house on Hoover street.
Remember honey? Just you and me
alone in the darkness,
kissing like kids crazy about each other,
listening to Hendrix on the oak console,
Electric Merman on axe in 1983,
Playing like a god from beneath
the fiery pinnacles of the Styx.
Remember? We were 18 and
wild with wordless desire.
I kissed you often that night
in the grey bluesy shadows,
embracing intensely
your perfumed, unbuttoned body,
on beige thick shag
by the open screen door,
with that benign breeze blowing in
softly and silently,
like the breath of whispering ghosts,
watching there, as we groped and licked,
two kneading felines, quivering,
insecure in the darkness,
our lips, slickered and lathered
in strawberry paste and love spit,
and our reaching tongues,
seared and slithering like caught tunas,
found electric connections
in the heaving nets
of aching fleshly onslaughts,
of mad touching embraces,
with esoteric teenage sweatings
at silent midnight, in June,
when the jacarandas are in bloom.
Yes, I remember you,
The girl with the brown perfumed skin,
and those kissing smacking sucking lips
that spoke so loudly,
without ever saying a word.
I sit with pen in hand this downcast morn;
and search the Muses for more enraptured songs;
songs of great cheer, of memories heartworn,
to banish the spirits of inflicted wrongs;
before, no songs could quell the ruthless onslaughts
of life; so abject, I was comfortless;
unsaved but for them hovering in my thoughts,
wooing me with lines that eased the hopelessness.
So, wherefore am I life's steel lightning rod;
a man, and lone soul, whose quiet defense
the world longs to disrupt—invade? (So awed
am I, that viciously it takes offense.)
From such place, the Muses grant their rare escape;
where, in peace, poets can safely take their shape.