Long Overshadowing Poems
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Time bracketed between
December first nineteen fifty nine and
December first two thousand twenty three
represents sixty six orbitz
one prized Earthling
named Amélie Beth Harris-McGeehan
completed round the sun.
About half her life linkedin
with spousal enrichment,
(while hunkered down livingsocial
in Woodbury, New Jersey),
hence the hyphenated married name.
Though said endearing eldest sister
approximately thirteen plus months my senior,
ofttimes during mein kampf,
she displayed maternal (motherly) mien.
Back during mine boyhood
dark shadows along the edge of night
(emanating from outer limits
of the twilight zone)
spooked me to flinch
as did appearance
of the boogeyman induce affright
only exacerbated my delicate mental health
punctuated psyche of mine
with disequilibrium psycho-social blight
above named sibling a protector I cite
twilled me in the valley
of love and delight,
an emotional refuge rescued sought
deliverance from anguish
loving succor proffered
peace upon mine body, mind, and soul,
she did immediately expedite
warming cockles of me heart
analogous to affecting, creating,
forging, jumpstarting, offering, and ushering
ideal paradise island temperature
if measured by degrees balmy fahrenheit
pointing, revealing, shining,
and training a guiding-light
unafraid to defend diminutive
docile, inordinately meek brother,
when threatened courtesy bullies
that significantly towered over mine
below average stature height
a measly little skinny, yet zany
(when within comfort of home) lad
naively oblivious to our mother,
when her first born daughter dynamic,
especially smoldering contention
kindled figurative tinder, which squabble
escalated in intensity
sparking vehement feud to ignite
loosing volatile verbal exchange
triggering The Emergency Alert System
to issue warning
lest clear and present danger
(at 324 Level Road)
recorded in history books
licking, overshadowing, rivaling,
and undermining revolution
kickstarted and hashtagged as Jacobite.
aforementioned author born
February 7, 1812
the long deceased (centuries) storied author
I toot and trumpet virtual horn
accompanying pet rooster
first thing in the morn.
Greetings mutual friend,
hard times dash Great Expectations
in this Bleak House
whereby battle of life ensues
when Sunday chimes
from Master Humphrey’s clock
somber American notes
invoking overshadowing doom
from young gentlemen:
Oliver Twist, Nicholas Nickleby, Barnaby Rudge
Martin Chuzzlewit, David Copperfield
and Young Cricket on the hearth Little Dorrit
collaborated on Pickwick Papers
with Dombey and son detailing
how I (a haunted man/
ghost’s bargain) alias Mudfog
self absorbed in his Old Curiosity Shop
hunted down by boyhood days
(akin to an endless Christmas carol
frieze as child’s history)
now a thick dust covered holiday romance
memory portraying this signal-man
(according to George Silverman's explanation)
eerily similar to
the mystery of Edwin Drood,
exiled after his trial for murder
birthing three ghost stories
inhabiting a haunted house
affecting the young couples lamplighter,
an uncommercial traveler
evidenced by pictures from Italy
prone to speeches, sketches
by Boz and his lazy tour
an oft repeated Tale Of Two Cities
best read at dusk.
All are feeling anxious on the old camp ground this night.
Weary Yanks are girding for tomorrow's awful fight.
Young soldiers loll about, staring blankly into slowly dying embers,
Dreaming of home, recalling happier times that each remembers.
Supper is finished, the usual rancid coffee, hardtack and beans.
The sentries call out, "All Is Well!", one of their hourly routines.
Sergeants huddle with comrades, offering solace to their platoon.
From across the way is heard a harmonica's melancholy tune.
From afar, Rebel cannon is heard, a portent of things to come.
Men in gray are readied for battle to the beat of muffled drum.
The ebon sky is aglow with the cannons' awesome display,
Competing with the moon, overshadowing its mellow ray.
Here and there a Bible is opened to the Twenty-third Psalm,
To once again be comforted by that eternal message of calm.
Pensive eyes that on the 'morrow may be forever sealed,
Gaze upward, imploring God's embrace as their guardian shield.
Hastily penned notes read, "If I should be borne to heaven above,
Know that we will be reunited in The Father's gracious love!"
Gallant men draw upon their innate will, apprehensions to allay.
The dulcet strains of "Taps" lowers the curtain on another day.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Cold front brings August respite
upon cusp of autumn quite
natural palliative to forget monetary plight
relieving spate of dog days of summer
seasonal crisp balm appeared overnight
evidenced of late by Jeeves
cool temperatures at night
temporarily bumping ugly
global warming with moonlight
sonata courtesy mother nature
perfect bonfire weather courtesy lignite
kept burning chaste cheerful pro bono
strong arm moored Sir Lancelot knight
sinewy physique, muscularly lean
apropos appellation applied Jack Lite
doubling up as Jack Frost
i.e. old man winter based
on Farmer's almanac
forecasters, who possess
sixth sense insight
predicting harsh winter, yeah right
as if standing atop shoulders of giants
towering, rivaling, overshadowing...
Jack and beanstalk re: fabulous height
seedy tale Aesop pose ghostwrite
ten and/or retold by Flora Annie Steel
fanciful imaginative flight
first appeared as The Story to delight
kids all ages of Jack Spriggins and
the Enchanted Bean in 1734 quite
similar to goose that laid golden egg
wishful thinking miniature
cogs and wheels spin
furiously at midnight
fantasizing escaping out
maws o' penury plight
accepting hand to mouth existence
experiencing pleasant distraction
as fall weather doth excite
reminding me seasonal change
could kindle potential playwright
within, which storyline outright
fabrication trumpeting rich mogul
comprising make believe webbed world
frees yours truly 24/7 nightmarish fright
one forlorn bummer groveling along...
holding transformative amulet tight
precious stone of malachite
imparting deep energy cleaning,
bringing healing powers that
powers love delight.
As I stepped out
onto the porch this evening
I felt unnerved
by the atmosphere
There was nothing but
calm stillness, and yet-
it bore a hint
of turbulence so small
as to only be perceived
in an odd sensation
on my skin
Thinking of the calm
before a storm
I hastily scanned the sky
searching for an ominous sign
But the sky was clear
albeit a weird mixture of hues
with too many shades of
Barbie pink overshadowing
the dusky purples and blues
The yard itself seemed
normal-but-surreal, too...
and looking at the
technicolor-green grass
I felt overwhelmed by
a heavy stillness in the air
As though I were trapped
in a vivid photograph
the only thing still alive
still moving- and suddenly
utterly oppressed
by a feeling of uselessness
with no idea of what
to do with myself
I felt a crazy impulse
to run away; as if
my presence there
was the problem
and that by leaving I might
find my way back
to other living (moving) things.
Inside once more
I now find the surreal stillness
has moved inside the house...
casting a pall over
the living space and
stretching down the hall
I fancy it has followed me
edging closer, stalking me
quickly closing in-
but as the feeling begins
to encapsulate me-
I am shocked to realize
that the turbulence feels
strangely familiar
I had only noticed it
in the stillness
away from daily distractions...
but it was within me
from the start.
Nearer my reverie lake side, nearer to be a cliche to see long
These amongst the gospel songs an once loved one to belong
You and I are drifting apart for a mundane , a droplet by and by
I knew in the heart song, beneath the overshadowing karma sky
She is not going to come home without the hymn song in disguise
I will be there for these old couples of neighborhood my premise
A windowpane of the lofty lover duo bypassing the Peoria heights
Nearer my reverie lake side, nearer to be a cliche to see long
These amongst the gospel songs an once loved one to belong
You and I are drifting apart for a mundane , a droplet by and by
I knew in the heart song, beneath the overshadowing karma sky
She is not going to come home without the hymn song in disguise
I will be there for these old couples of neighborhood my premise
A windowpane of the lofty lover duo bypassing the Peoria heights
Nearer my reverie lake side, nearer to be a cliche to see long
These amongst the gospel songs an once loved one to belong
You and I are drifting apart for a mundane , a droplet by and by
I knew in the heart song, beneath the overshadowing karma sky
She is not going to come home without the hymn song in disguise
I will be there for these old couples of neighborhood my premise
A windowpane of the lofty lover duo bypassing the Peoria heights
born February 7, 1812,
whose living descendents
I would be thrilled to befriend,
hence if anonymous reader
by some genetic fluke
linkedin to said
prolific storied author
please kindly reciprocate.
greetings mutual friend,
hard times dash
great expectations in this bleak house,
whereby battle of life ensues
when Sunday chimes
from master humphrey’s clock
issue somber american notes
invoking overshadowing doom
from young gentlemen:
oliver twist, nicholas nickleby, barnaby rudge
martin chuzzlewit, david copperfield,
young cricket and on the hearth little dorrit
collaborated on pickwick papers
with dombey and son detailing
how I (a haunted man/
ghost’s bargain) alias mudfog
got self absorbed in his old curiosity shop
hunted down by boyhood days
(akin to an endless Christmas carol
frieze as child’s history),
now a thick dust covered holiday romance
memory portraying this signal-man
(according to george silverman’s explanation)
eerily similar to the mystery of edwin drood,
exiled after his trial for murder
birthing three ghost stories
inhabiting a haunted house
affecting the young couples lamplighter
an uncommercial traveler
evidenced by pictures from italy
prone to speeches, sketches
by boz and his lazy tour
an oft repeated tale of two
cities best read at dusk.
Celebration of Wind and Fire
Celebrate the unseen face of God’s eternal Spirit
Embracing all before creating light;
Action word of the eternal dance
Hovering over the chaotic genesis of creation;
Leading exiles out of exile through empty seas with fiery pillars
Feeding wanderers hungry for heavenly bread at dawn;
A living shadow pushing away the shadow of separation
Planting salvation’s seed deep within the sanctuary of a young girl’s yes;
Wearing the face of a dove descending on the Word
Leading anointed redemption into the empty desert place of prayer;
Driving wind and flames arriving on a festival morning
When fearful souls stood up to speak the languages of the world gathered;
Raising up a new tower of adoration reaching Heaven’s ears
Uniting with eternal words no longer babbling;
A fire, that never burns, burns through dust of days long past and now
Still hovering, descending, overshadowing, and dancing;
A sacred nudge delighting in coincidence
Filling up the thirst that gnaws for serendipity in surprises;
Inspiration birthed by the invisible hand of holy mischief
Inviting ambivalent, wavering, steps to roads of rightness in quiet whispers;
Lowering mountains, preparing highways now made straight,
For pilgrim’s feet gathering flowers in wild wastelands;
Caressing, prodding, in moments of a-ha ever evolving -
Timeless mentor of universal innovation;
Handiwork of the restless holy leaping up in wild fire
When old hearts dream dreams and young eyes see visions;
Laughing, dancing divine whimsy pirouetting through stars and galaxies
Never the same when touched by the Spirit dancing.
12/2/19
Original Contest: Holy Spirit
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Why is it when you go out of your way
To help someone brighten their day
Or solve a problem that has things in disarray
They want to play you as if to say
You owe them in some superficial way
Putting on some kind of poor me display
Overshadowing the kindness you portray
Some are not able to see the good deed
That some people give so freely
They do it because they are able to see
What a difference this would be
For them to help make your day stay in play
Some people lack the ability to foresee
People go out of their way, not for praise
Or to be a standout who wants you to obey
Not to create a cushion for some far off distant day
We do it because we care
When we see someone in dispare
Or life seems to be unfair
When someone is down on their luck
Because everything has run a muck
Feeling like lightning has struck
Then being able to help someone become unstuck
It's just good karma that is our choice to send their way
It doesn't require money
Or a promise you will make it right someday
It simply requires a sincere thank you
A genuine reply without asking why
Understanding that everyone
Has not just left you standing
When your day became way to demanding
Knowing someone went out of their way
To keep your day underway
It's not how we repay the kindness
But rather how we display
All the goodwill that came into play
To help make it through your day
Days are much concrete at times, with a soul too obtuse.
Nothing happens inside ,to calm down a pain, or to diffuse
I let the faces, I love the most, leave, one by one
And waited for the heavy curtains of oblivion
To end everything, every pain and sorrow.
An exposed love is nothing but an open space
For inflicting fresh wounds, heartache to grow.
An identified hardships of an indigent emotion
Egregious reason of a rather volatile passion.
Bright, white clouds in the blue sky float by...
Float by delightfully, without any hesitation
I saw the clouds, and wanted to clean the sky
with a handkerchief, whitest of the kind.
To wipe out the clouds,
And
To wipe out the suffocations of all stories untold
To fix an inevitable state of delirium, of mind.
I felt my vulnerability then,
As these attempts led me to a conclusive moment
Where clouds were forcing and merging , altogether
With this fine, delicate fabric of mine,
and overshadowing the high-rise buildings of downtown
Stopping the signals, crosswalks and all other progressions.
Only it was me who was left there, alone…
With a tremendous grandiosity, a lavish consecrate note
To drag a shattered , devastated body to carry on
And an astonishing hopeful mind
To venture,
To triumph
Holding a white piece of distraction
To mediate the measurement of the depth of the sky.
I paused for a moment.
As I needed the handkerchief badly.
After the daydreaming is over.