Long Partake in Poems
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Once again the annual holidays came, a time of great cheer
We, the batch mates of 1976 planned a mega get together
We wanted to make it an occasion to be memorized for ever
Tracking old friends was indeed a laborious endeavor
A lot of discussion and phone calls had to be made
And finally the expected date and venue were conveyed
We decided to meet at a holiday resort/restaurant
In Kovalm, on the shores of the blue water crescent
Beside the sea strand with restless waves heaving-
A respite from the tumultuous striving for a living
The gathering started off as a trickle, some came in time, some, late
Many faces were beyond recognition and found hard to relate
With nostalgic memories crowding in our hearts
And emotions of joy and longing choking our throats
We entered the conference hall in small streams
Its walls resounding with expletives of shouts, howls and screams
We were all set to partake in a communion beyond words and thought
And turn the pages of the past with memories fraught
Once everyone was seated inside, the formal session began
Followed by a self introduction, each trying to be as elaborate as one can
Travelling down the memory lane and helping the group reach back
The memory files, long forgotten and buried in the unused stack
In that salubrious ambiance we were all inclined to renew old ties
And rekindle friendship’s flagging flame before it dies
Felt we were still young with balding heads and graying hair
Expanding waistlines and bodies that needed constant repair
We remembered those who were deleted forever from life’s scroll
And thanked God for having got a chance to meet within that hall
The whole day, we sat and talked, sharing memories of our younger years
Gloating on and on about our literature class and our beloved teachers
We didn’t know that time was speeding past like a sprinting hound
With a sumptuous dinner, our session was finally wound round
And with a tearful goodbye, we bade adieu to all our batch mates
With a resolve to meet again whenever such a chance awaits
Though have traveled far and wide with family during vacations
This get together after decades stays happier beyond all proportions
Jan. 27.2022
My Favorite Vacation Poetry Contest
Sponsor- L. Milton Hankins
WHO WERE THE PILGRIMS ?
JAMESTOWN
1607
Four hundred years ago high-born Brits sailed to America
Seeking fast fortunes, adventure and fame.
Many would never endure their first year here
Cultivating, foraging, and hunting game.
Arriving in Virginia they came ill-prepared
In search of gold and a route to the South Seas
What they found were hostile Indians,
Insects, starvation, and disease.
“Virginia is Earth’s only Paradise!”
The laureate of England would proclaim!”
However by August of 1607,
Every day there was anguish, and pain.
They ate their horses, dogs, cats and rats
One man ate his wife and hid her bones in the ground.
Despite their hardships, half managed to survive
Becoming America’s first permanent, English town .
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING
The Pilgrims held their first Thanksgiving
At Plymouth in October 1621.
The bitter winter of 1620, was over
With a loss of many father, mother, daughter or son.
Life for survivors was much better now
As a good harvest improved what was rationed
Settlers enjoyed good health and prosperity
As homes were raised from the logs they fashioned.
They walked unafraid and safely in the woods
For they had made peace with the Indians.
After the signing a long-lasting treaty
Natives and Pilgrims shared the land as friends.
Sending four men to shoot waterfowl and wild turkeys
The Pilgrims decreed a holiday of good fortune
A chief was invited who brought 90 braves
And five deer to increase the portion.
It was an open-air roast and festival
Held along the north bank of Town Brook.
Where there were games of skill, chance and dance
While everyone gorged on the feast they cooked.
From then on Thanksgiving spread through the colonies
Though each region chose its own date.
Till in 1789 President Washington proclaimed
November 26 a day to give thanks and celebrate.
The theme of Thanksgiving has always been the same.
Though its date has changed many times.
A day for giving and remembering the less fortunate
Expressing thankfulness with our prayers, hearts and minds.
It is our duty as a nation to acknowledge providence
Of Almighty God, and to obey his will.
To be grateful for his blessings, and protection
As we humbly partake in the tables we fill.
The evening air spreading its soft chill,
Playing with the blue mountain to nature's will,
New snow flakes engulfs the barren hills,
Taming my heart with tender warmth and thrills.
At the inn the keeper holds a lighted candle,
For us to follow with our packaged bundle,
With grace I wish to avoid a scandal,
Watch my man close the lone door by its handle.
Firewood burns in the wooded homestead,
Spreads it warmth over the snug cushioned bed,
Waits to partake in our action unsaid,
Melting moments for me to love or dread.
Delightful face turns to look up to me,
Candid sensuality in phantoms plea,
Urges me to be forthwith naked and free,
Passion denudes barriers under siege.
Anticipation now burns to aspire,
Taut space between our naked bodies perspire,
And I blush in its heat with hot desire,
Keep my eyes closed as he sets me afire.
Intoxicants flame touched by libations
Sequesters inflamed wet-lip deviations,
Within pleasure kiss gratification,
Outraging tongue's in communication.
Open my eyes to his tactile fondness,
Soon hands engage the spherical hardness,
Force me to opt with resoluteness,
And lie on my back touched by tenderness.
My desperate palms crawl over his back,
Nuptial quivers awake rapture's with knack,
Crazy teeth dig and wildly bite his neck,
Betwixt the legs he performs his attack.
In anticipation I surrender,
As he sets to probes the naked blunder,
Rave’s down the silky valley to plunder,
Unzipped by the latent strike, I thunder.
Reeling from the quick fervent thrusts I cry,
With rage responding to his sadist try,
As he pulls back to enter and defy,
Totally exposed I shudder and sigh.
Quaking with delirious pleasure I cuddle,
Both legs entrapped within the carnal struggle,
Brace quivering bottom in the muddles,
As petals rock within the moist puddles.
Smiling at my denuded enslavement,
Holding my arms in ardent deployment,
Torments my frail defiance with enjoyment,
While his knee's direct steady placement.
Seething with resistance his hardness grows,
Raw power sustaining his taming blows,
Ecstasy mows the bulging heat to sow,
Freely we climax in its cosmic flow.
Begs reprieve for his ebbed shrunken demands;
While in love he obeys all my commands.
THE COACH
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Went to an alumni meeting last week
Looking for solace, the outlook was bleak
We lost a game we should have won
A total disaster to all not just some
Cries of anguish torrents of pain
“How the hell did we lose that game”
Three close calls in the recent past
Defeat was looming, the die had been cast
We were favorite to trample that team
What followed next was strictly obscene
No confidence in the coach, zero trust
A new powerful resurgence is a must
“Fire the coach, we need a new spark”
Call the chancellor a search to embark
There’ll be plenty of coaches to interview
At the end of the season there will be a slew
Most will have been fired that’s for sure
Same kind of let down we’ve had to endure
Appoint a committee to find a coaching ace
Got to expunge this humiliating disgrace
While we’re at it the assistants they must go
They haven’t inspired the team as far as I know
Need to raise cash something we’re lacking
Buy out his contract and send him packing
A new coach will cost us a hefty sum
A sales job needed to convince the alum
All must partake in any new proposal
Resources will be placed at our disposal
A few claimed it was to soon to act
Hissed and booed told not to come back
The coach (2)
All that remained were anxiously waiting
Are there any coaches, we’ve been baiting
A new coach will surely demand success
All in favor pledge support in this quest
Days later the finals were slated
Consensus was, we won’t be elated
To our amazement, it’s hard to explain
Out team executed a perfect game
I went to an alumni meeting last night
Everyone was joyful in utter delight
Many were boasting and sipping champagne
Alas we were conference champions again
We need to make sure we continue to cruise
Complete confidence in the coach and his crew
Upgraded facilities, haven’t you heard
Call the chancellor pass on the good word
Our coach is a winner to be sure
Esteem and respect for him to endure
The backers are ecstatic bursting with praise
Throw in some perks add in a raise
Extend his contract for a many a year
Act fast our rivals might get his ear
Those remarks from last week , bid them adieu
They were made by an uninformed few
You were born to be a filigreed crown
to soar like the swift never touch ground
but they gave you labels suiting their thought
words sharpened like knives in which you were caught
Spoken words in unisons cacophony
untouchable not decent not fit for family
oh the old wounds and their residual pain
I just want to see you soaring again
The others hated you without any word
their actions spoke louder than expressions heard
unworthy to speak to or even be seen
to be hidden from others aspersions as mean
How on earth could you possibly shine
when you felt their ridicule locked forever in time
I watched you dry up before my own eyes
in the heat of the ire the flame of despised
Like an animal branded wearing its mark
cast out like our Lord flung from the park
on rocks were you broken too limp to hold
to crawl and to cower where reception is cold
The unthinking know not the powers of word
wrestle not with ideas conceptions they've learned
who never consider that our mouths are the flame
that torture the sensitive stab them with pain
How long does it take for a heart to die
too scarred to ask questions or the wondering why
a planet of suffering the agony of breath
like those barely living and too slow is death
Where you can hold stars and dance in the day
to sing of life's joy partake in its sway
be moved by its chords like crescendo of song
to be not cast down like everything's wrong
The scar like a keloid to thick to peel
weather beaten hard shielded like steel
Walls like a fortress the place you reside
away from misfortune the dark place you hide
Listen my Love my words are for you
I know where you shine I've seen them accrue
If I thoughtless hurt you please let me know
I'm only a student molded like dough
Break out beloved create something new
polish your character bid cruelty adieu
set your sights high seek always insight
let love be your leader in words that delight
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
Via Duboff Law Group LLC
How do you sit amongst nature
and call yourself beautiful?
How can you be around
conversations and call yourself
sociable?
How is it possible to see hands
interlocked, eyes deep in lust,
wonder, and excitement and
not believe in love?
No not love, a chance at love.
Not even love, happiness or
hope even for a little bit.
Why can’t you give yourself a
chance?
Why can’t you consider allowing
yourself to partake in uplifting
opportunity?
Let’s think.
Men climb the tallest mountain
in the world,
Women, whom doctors profess
unable, give birth.
Not only can blacks vote, we
can vote for one.
There’s a child struggling for
hope, happiness, and a home,
But you can’t give me your
hand.
It’s all matters of the mind, you
see.
Pay attention to your heart.
Where have you been?
Why did you leave?
And why go back,
You've become anew.
Why hold your fears as a
priority?
Fear does nothing but limit,
Fear teaches nothing but
excuses.
Is it really fear or letting your
mind stay suspended?
Your trunk of an imagination
claims these dreams lacking
leaves.
Stare at the naked branches all
you please but they won’t
appear with the breeze.
Wait, there’s a leaf, it’s
different from your previous.
Its bright green, but a little
worn.
It’s a start.
A start to rebuilding and
remembering.
There’s another only two steps
away, why not take it?
It’s a little out of reach, two
steps and you’re there.
You’re not leaving your tree,
you’re bettering it.
Clothe your mind and soul with
what the wind blows in.
It’s definitely different, but who
says it’s not time for a change?
They say- If you want
something you’ve never had,
you must do something you’ve
never done.
But you can hold the same
aspirations just make a few
adjustments.
You could find someone to
genuinely support those
There’s a whole world you’ve
yet to see,
Step outside your backyard.
Step into the unknown to
eliminate the unknown within
yourself.
How do you sit amongst nature
and call yourself ugly?
How can you be around
conversations and call yourself
a loner?
Explore happiness.
Engage yourself, no.
Submerge.
You’re trying to stay afloat,
But is it really worth the wasted
strength?
Form:
Another poem. Another story to tell. Another journey to partake in. May this poem be for those how seem lost and know not which way to take. May this story open your eyes so that you know that no matter what, losing faith or hope is not an option. I haven't experienced such a journey but Poetry is a soliloquy of what I think is true.
It was a beautiful day outside. It's time to tackle the world. It's time I become a man or stay a boy. Without a father figure to guide me, I don't know where I would receive the teachings of being a strong man. So I decided to go on and do my own search. As I got ready to leave, I picked up an empty backpack with a Bible lying next to it. I left it there to accumulate dust due to the love that I only knew. Neglect. I walked out and began to search. I met this lady and she asked me: "My son you seem lost. Do you know God? Do you know His word?" I could not speak so I went back to pack my backpack because I had no words. I would move my lips but nothing would come out but now that words are apart of me I can share my story.
A wolf can come in sheep's clothing. Who are you to trust a stranger who gives you the smile of an angel? The sun has now set. I was engulfed by the new experiences of this unknown world. It's late at night so people approached me and said: "Eyy mfana isekasi la. Sishova inombolo uyiziphi wena? Awuzazi? Qina mfondini uzoba indoda. Tso, gwinya la uzoqina namhlanje." I was so stunned. All I heard was numbers and strength. There's strength in numbers or do numbers have strength now? I was confused so I looked up and someone emerged from the darkness. He shouted and said: "Yeyi!! We don't want church goers here. Do you know God? Do you go to church?" I said no and I felt weak. I had to go back to pack my backpack because I was lying. The lies together with this heavy backpack made me weak but I guess the Lord wants those who have fought for him the same way he fought for us. And Revelations 22 vs 19 - 21 says: "And if anyone takes anything away from the prophetic words of this book, God will take away from their share of the fruit of the tree of life and of the Holy City, which are described in this book." So let this story be my testimony. "May the grace of our Lord God be with you."
One Night In A Haunted Manor-
Mohonk Mountain House is a rapturous place
where we love to visit and walk the long trails;
partake in its charming Victorian grace.
A mystical ambiance- there still prevails.
A manor-like hotel for overnight guests,
we managed to sleep there a Saturday night.
The hallways were long, and at once did suggest
past visions we'd seen which left us with much fright.
Contraptions, wall-mounted, held hoses wound up
with nozzles at end placed to put out a fire.
So much like a movie, we'd seen where setup
did look much the same and so dreadfully dire.
That night, we awoke with some noises we heard
that sounded as though they were right in our room.
A voice giggling loudly- now this was absurd,
as women-like shadows quick-heightened our gloom.
We managed to sleep, but woke up- from a dream?
Fire hoses were chasing us down the long hall!
The nozzles were faces with teeth...made us scream!
They smothered and bit us in that horrid brawl.
Next morning we saw, on the desk, a brochure,
a story which made our hair stand up on end,
that Stephen King frequented Mohonk- proved sure,
ghosts helped shape 'The Shining'- that horror he penned!
January 13, 2019
~7th Place~
Premiere Contest, "One Night In A Haunted Manor",
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Judged: 01/23/2019
Form: Anipestic Tetrameter -/--/--/--/
Note:
In addition to presidents and the like, one of the Mohonk’s claims to fame is that it has been a regular haunt of none other than famed horror novelist, Stephen King. Because of this, the Mohonk is thought to be one of the possible inspirations for King’s classic work, "The Shining", a story that just happens to be about a haunted hotel. While the haunted Stanley Hotel in Colorado is usually credited as “The Shining Hotel” — and has done everything it possibly can to capitalize on this legend — fans have conflicting opinions. And while the Stanley Hotel may or may not have been the start of the “official” story, it’s hard to imagine that so many frequent trips to the Mohonk wouldn’t have made some sort of lasting impression on King’s mind as he wrote his famous novel.
Reference: https://frightfind.com/mohonk-mountain-house/
(the story is down a bit on left)
"I fought the good fight, finished my course and stayed true to my faith"
these are the last words that Paul the Apostle did convey
many pastors use this text when they preach a eulogy
but I think it's just as appropriate for every living body
this was Paul's epitaph and these words summed up his life's story
the last words that he uttered and with them he gave God all the glory
Paul told his son Timothy to continue to preach the Word
no matter how unwelcome nor inconvenient and no matter what he'd heard
with inexhaustible patience he charged Tim to proclaim the gospel of Christ
to partake in the Great Commission as a testiment to his life
you'll never know what you may say that might touch a tender soul
you'll never know if your words may make someone in Christ become more bold
in this world of iniquity, selfishness and greed
the gospel of Jesus the Christ is what mankind now desparately needs
we've forgotten the Word of God and think it's all about us
we think that we have more power than the Lord Christ Jesus
there's nothing wrong with self-empowerment but people need to perceive
that in spite of the choices and decisions they make they can't determine their own destiny
God is in control and He's the ultimate life force
God is in control and He's already set your life's course
one of the ministers in my church was involved in a serious car crash
broadsided by a cab and he said in a second his whole life did flash
pushed across a six laned highway and into a tree lined parking lot
and despite his car being totaled there was no shedding of a single blood drop
he and his wife walked away from that wreck completely unscathed
they were covered by the blood of Jesus and both of them were saved
to fight the good fight, to finish the course and keep the faith
these are the words to live by that every person should undertake
these were Paul's last words to his son Timothy
urging to for Christ keep claiming the victory
he asked that his life and death to be not in vain
and he wrote to all his friends and addressed them by name
he told them to fight the good fight, to keep the faith and in Christ stay the course
and remember that God's in charge and in control of your life force
The weather, as per the norm in this country was hot. As if the sun itself had come down to partake in this spectacle about to take place. The landscape was arid,dusty and desolate of any greenery, had I not seen it before in its purity, the teeming masses now joining to expand the congregation would have disallowed such recollections. Human bodies were everywhere, black shiny skin glistening in sweat, their eyes blood shot but alert. Chanting war cries that epitomized their struggles against oppression. The general himself was at the helm of the mob. Dressed in his full regalia, he brandished a sword pointing it sky wards like a holy warrior, behind him, his men followed in religious fervor. Dedication like this is dangerous. My host for so many days and I walked at a leisurely pace , I soaking in the sights of this ritual, my host was almost a man resigned to some fate only he knew. The mob was in its hundreds now. All armed to the teeth. Sporadic firing filled the air, bullets hummed by closely. I had come to learn by now that regardless of the direction of fire, a stray bullet meant for you was going to find you, no matter what evasive maneuvers you took. “this is an impressive turn out”. I said to the doctor. “Hmm” he said. For an educated man he was a one for few words. In the cacophony of the noise our silence was awkward. It put me at unease.
“how often does this sort of gathering happen?’ I asked the doctor.
“at any given opportunity” he replied, “unfortunately these days they have been happening a lot”.
I thought about his reply for a moment, perhaps it was the regime’s way of bolstering morale.
“It must mean a lot to the soldiers, these war parades” I asked.
He turned to look at me, and once again it was in his eyes, Bright white with small jet black pupils. The kind of eyes that have seen too much. His forehead wrinkled in a kind of stress.
“alas sir, this is not a war parade’; he replied
“Then what is it”?
“An execution”
“Oh?
Public executions were not uncommon here, but it intrigued me as to whom the victims would be.
“Who’s”? I asked
The doctor turned to me; I could not fathom the look in his eyes this time. This time they gave nothing away.
“Yours”…