Long Panacea Poems
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How can we change
The world from its sun?
Can we break the night and day?
Do we have the strength to turn
Away all our sins and dismay?
How can we change
The Son from His reference point?
Can we alter the path He chose?
Do we have the faith to believe
In the power of His Word and Blood?
How can we change
Our pre-existing conditions?
Do we have the courage to stand
And accept the truth of His mission?
Whether we believe it or not
The Bible is true!
Jesus died on the cross and rose again!
We must submit to His will and not shun
The power of His grace and rein.
We are born to love God
And love and forgive each other!
No matter what we may think or feel
Our lives must be guided by the Father.
The panacea for emotional and physical
Brokenness in life and culture
Found in Jesus Christ alone!
He is the only one who can break our chains
And save us from our own misery.
FOR A MOMENT
Your cry isn’t loud enough for the world to hear
So wipe your tears.
Even your so called ‘friends and companions’ are turning deaf ears
Wipe your tears and look up to the hills, from there comes your help
Tears come from sorrow’s hole
Tears will continue to flow until you control your whole
Dilute your sorrow’s hole with joy,
And effervescence of smile will frizzle your tears
Don’t pamper that hurt inside, lest, it will linger
Letting go of is the best panacea
Embrace life’s vicissitude, and make peace with your past
Until there’s no tomorrow, fortunes are in life’s queue
For as mischance exists in life’s cast,
So is great chance.
Life can deny you of breakfast, but that breakfast may not be worth comparing with your brunch.
As you crunch, your life realizes that you can wait for tomorrow’s breakfast even if it denies you supper.
Sometimes, life makes you feel Charlie,
Especially when life gives you a malignant glare,
At a moment when you are in a state of ‘devil-may-care’
You are compelled to say cheerio to the world
Because life is using a brusque tone
But when you chance upon successes, you bury that decision
That’s life
Don’t escalate that hurt or pain when life confronts you
It’s just a fortune recess
Embolden your spirit and wait for the resume of success.
#sanguine, sangfroid, pertinacious#..That’s what you ought be……
A hundred years have come and gone
to what wonder and tragedies
have you belonged?
My father:
Born in the aftermath of a world at war
danced to the flappings of the twenties roar,
a time when poverty and wealth wore torn in two
when the future feared depression's loom;
just a young man filled with wide-eyed dreams in bloom
where would steps move
in the prophetic ravings?
the Dust Bowl blackened clouds with farmers braving
drowning anthems of a Star-Spangled banner still waving
and the solo flight of history
forever remains a mystery;
political isms rise in freedoms slow demise
while Hollywood reviews the movies
in truth and lies;
the end of an era welcomed in the shanty towns
as Europe recovers with a parade of suicidal clowns;
off to war drafting historic days of infamy
when bloody battles raged
as alliances filled the stage
and at last, a momentary peace was cast;
with love and hope returned again,
life was never quite the same;
distrust, cold war gloom
threatened the next generations bloom
a hated war embraced love freely,
killed in a plaza at Dealy
perhaps too easily, we gave it all away
as nuclear power paved the new day;
the power mongers rose,
wealthy and the greedy exposed
life continued for the bold,
growing rebellious children in the fold
with yet a newer fear to mold,
wars and change in the aftermath
for everyone who has lost their path;
equality returned to the open stage,
the promise of an enlightened age
but time is never stationary
and no one man is a visionary
with walls torn down and freedom's cries
history burns with false truths and lies;
drugs and saturated imaged shadows quickly return
to clouded hazy minds burned
in foggy dreams to be unlearned
and fallen heroes disappear and die
close the century with disappointment
and no magic panacea provided ointment
now at the turn of time
in the final last hurrah
a battle rages yet no one with power speaks
of the lesson taught,
history must once again,
repeat.
Seen it all
my dear father
the foolishness, the truth, and lie,
in which mankind lives and dies
the messages by which the common man exists
is only the futures that we all resist.
A musing recollection on my father's 100 birthday. 8/19/19
It was an impromptu journey,
A sudden and quick decision,
I needed to unwind,
I needed to ease the stress,
Travelling was a remedy,
It was a panacea,
My cousins were delighted to see me,
So were their parents,
It was a memorable moment,
Every stress and burden eased off,
Then came the time to leave,
I had come to the end of my stay,
Lectures had begun in full swing,
Staying further was a death trap,
I had a grade point to salvage,
I took the morning bus,
The driver was a hell racer,
He manoeuvred, meandered and swerved,
Some passengers' hair stood on end,
They pleaded for him to slow down,
He said,
Time was of the essence,
Arriving early was paramount,
He had overtaken a truck and
was neck to neck with the second,
Out of the blues came another facing us,
My heart had left its chamber,
I had seen my end,
The driver slowed down,
Swerved in between the two trucks,
We heard the sound,
It was like a hurricane as the truck sped past,
That was a close encounter with death,
I had seen it staring at me,
I had seen it put out its hands for an embrace,
The rest of the journey was at a steady speed,
It didn’t matter when we arrived anymore,
There was a calmness in the atmosphere.
You tease me so nicely. I love your flair -
the way you hold me and when you hold back!
I love your fingers moving through my hair.
Downward. . . the scintilla of a smack.
You know just where I like it! Leisurely
meandering along my body, you
are an elixir, pouring out on me.
My panacea, always you imbue
felicity in me with whispers of
those dulcet “nothings” falling on my ear.
How eloquent the language of your love
when your soft moans are all I need to hear.
Be naughty. I don’t mind it – night or day -
but never tease that you will go away!
Feb 5, 2018
for Edward McCall's "Eloquent banter; You tease me so nicely"
and now for Laura Loo's Your Favorite Poem Written in February Contest
Written: August 07, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney
***********
Corset of steel tightens—ratified pain,
Vestigial breath trapped in ischemia thrall.
The ductile hope failed to placate
This Pyrrhic ache, this woebegone gall.
A sojourn in the squalor of soul,
Where sylphlike dreams maunder, downcast.
Ogle the embers of the miraculous nexus—
A seraphic visage lost, quickly.
Vivacious once, now virile with woe,
Panacea tastes of pabulum, slipshod, and cold.
Tinkling memories coruscate as zeugma—
Bright, yet untoward, they never hold.
Quixotic penchant for connection,
Grasping too late the nebula beneath.
What puissance is this—this throe, this tumult—
When tulle-wrapped love meets a gyre of grief?
Ululation beneath pavonine skies,
Adumbrate every glance, every sigh.
Crimson weave keeps a skirt in place,
Valuable, stained, adorned, and slain.
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Have you been inducted in the herd community and
received its graduate certificate yet?
I hear Nietzsche's Twilight of the Idols' rant on 'herding the herd community',
thinking, will we hear next the Covid-Uberman, i.e., the longing of new body invested with addictive anti-body, redeemed yet forever subverted, but showered with accolade? History's now split to before and after the pandemic, bifurcating the (decaying) body and the (deaf) soul.
Pessimism of intellect never rescued one from a disease, overwhelmed by
vaccine optimism -- a panacea or cure, or twilight of reason (i.e., Benjamin's apocalypse foretold)?
Nothing is everything when you put your mind to it, subliminally and refined.
Odds of survival is higher when you see a light at the end of tunnel, no matter
how dim or treacherous the path, or faulty optics, i.e., Hegel's chronicle of the absolute spirit that never dwells too long in limbo of alienation, enlightenment's last defense. Behold, the light of Zarathustra shall illuminate and the new herd community will turn sun-worshippers yearning for the paradise lost under the eagle wings of their shepherds wielding
a long stick.
Written: October 1st, 2025 for contest by Unseeking Seeker
Line of inquiry:
“a homogeneous mass of consciousness
God as the all there is, mind cannot name
being both immanent and transcendent
living light intimate in heart aflame”
************
A boundless bundle of consciousness —
Not a corpus or clod, it reveals gloriousness.
A syph-like glimmer in the ethereal seam,
As the unnameable divine revels in a dream.
No nook, node, or ruthless throne,
But a delicate, shy, genuinely lurid alone.
And all—immanent in the languid leaf,
Transcendent amid the turmoil of belief.
He is the quiddity of every throe,
the halcyon ululation of the soul’s echo,
A seraphic groove for paradox and play,
frolicked in the motley of night and day.
Mind cannot name what he has become—
a roguish rakish ravel of light,
a gossamer jaunt across the squalor of flesh,
a virile vapor, both burden and blithe.
He is the calix and the caterwaul,
the aureate balm and immersion fall.
The palimpsest of epochs ratified.
where ephemeral truths are petrified.
He lurked in the labyrinthine offing,
a mystic machination, amort and maundering.
A seraphic slipshod in a cluster of stars,
stocked for the sapidity of avatars.
Still, flees from the facile frame,
from the fatuous fruitlessness of fame.
He is the panacea and the pyre,
the effusive ember, the crestfallen choir.
Aloft in the welkin, abstemious and omnipotent.
an immanency virtuous light not irritant.
Yet balmily brooding in the inglenook of the heart,
He whispers, “I am the quixotic art.”
Sojourn here, in this seraglio of soul,
where the aureate echoes of Calliope roll.
And the garrulous gossamer of grace,
twinkles through every vestigial place.
This is a quintessence, quiddity, gleam—
God as the all, as the dream within a dream.
a sumptuous oneness of light aflame,
living, loving, and forever unnamed.
"Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch ,but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same"
(Quote by: Helen Keller)
LOVE, what mystique power, it wields
What bumper dividends it yields
At times, IS LIKE an ache so coy to reveal
Or A BEAUTIFUL urge, hard to conceal
As brilliance to stars, fragrance to a FLOWER
Music to flute or shade to a bower
Love dwells and thrives in heart’s inner shrine
Connecting souls as by magic with a bond divine
Some times, we feel it as a deep sensation
Sprouting in us strong surges of emotion
WHICH enliven every atom of our being
Filtering down from top to bottom, nourishing and healing
I MAY sometimes ignore its fervent call
But will NOT undervalue its merits tall
Oh, Love! Thy virtues I will defend
Though seasons change and youth does end
Love is a magic talisman to TOUCH the heart
Filling the void, never leaving any dearth
It makes the mind go upbeat in prosody
Changing every sensation into a rhapsody
The red red Rose that emanates radiance
Surrounded by thorns, BUT WHOSE FRAGRANCE
Everyone inhales, MAKES THE GARDEN
A PLACE of perennial beauty as one OF Eden,
Love soothes and stills every ache of the heart
Filling it with DELIGHT, propitiating a new start
It is like the cool touch of spray in the horrid heat of noon
Or on a humid day, a splash with friends in the lagoon
Love sublime, JUST like a candle lit
Consumes itself, but keeps on giving light
It dispels THE gloom and cleanses the dirt
Invigorating the soul and healing every hurt
In ups and downs, love remains the SAME
Lighting the world with love should be our aim
It is on the axis of love that the world spins round
Tt is the panacea curing all the ills which surround!
Jan.31. 2021
Brian Strand Contest No.1183 Poetry Contest