Long Periodically Poems

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Premium Member Things I think now that I'm old

The older I get, the more I forget the names of colors.
Would you call this paint amber, burnt ochre, or clay?
Would it were the same with all of my dolors.
But age hasn’t washed any of my dolors away.
I finally saw hills as old as me,
and it was a pitiful sight to see,
with many a crevice and facial scar,
and so, pointing at the hills, 
I asked my dearest wife, Shar,
"Is that what I look like?"
She said, “No, that's is not what you look like.
That’s what you are."

Only two o'clock ~ still an hour till it's three.
Time's passing slower than eternity.
Now it's four, and as even the clock's cuckoo can see ~
I'm having trouble with this end-of-life monotony.
How much longer till it's five o'clock ~
and I can put this head of lettuce on the chopping block?
Tick ~ tock ~
tick ~ tock ~
tick~ tock...
That's life ~ in a game with grandpa ~
running down the clock.

As I reflect on my old body’s daily decay, 
I wonder ~ did God really mean to do it this way?
Couldn't He have let me journey to life's end, whole and entire,
instead of having part after part of me periodically misfire?
You assert emphatically, "Yes! He really meant to do it this way!"
Okay.
When you're old, you know what's really insane?
It's when you're going down memory lane,
but you find nobody there
with whom a memory to share.
And you wonder ~ am I in the right brain?

My route home seems to have been mislaid.
I have a feeling I've walked way past the Fire Brigade.
And where's that street
where the park and the bicycle path meet?
I'm completely lost! ~ My God!
I'm so afraid.
One thing when you get this old
is that your body can get so unbearably cold,
because your skin gets so thin,
it lets all the iciness in,
and then a hot partner is worth their weight in gold.

You know how it is
when cola loses its fizz.
That's kinda what happened here.
And what can I say but, 'Sorry, my dear?'
I kinda feel like I've flunked the pop quiz.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead.
Rather have everyone don a motley party hat.
And if anyone's inclined to cry,
please say, "Don't shed a tear for this old guy,
cuz he's gonna live it up ~ in the sweet bye and bye.
© Rio Jansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


A Blessing In Disguise

A Blessing In Disguise

Many years ago, I was asked to give the blessing at dinner.  As a guest, this was not something I was accustomed to and therefore declined, finding myself in a losing debate.  “It’s not a big deal; just acknowledge ONE thing that you are thankful for”.  Politely, I said no, then stood up and left. 

Each and every one of us is on a path and that path can be long and winding.  Though some boast with confidence, no one can know what is coming just around the bend.  It is that bend that I have always tried to prepare for, to do what’s right, to be ready.  But life is not a vacation, in which you can pack.

Many years later and after my divorce, I felt lost and more afraid than ever before.  Realizing that a path is more than HOW you take your next step, it is who, that you are NOW.  But, I don’t know, who I am!  I have withdrawn or been abandoned from many friends.  I have tried to focus on my kids and myself.  I have tried to breathe, through meditation.  But, with no avail.

Early on, I reached out to a friend I hadn’t seen in 16 years.  And though she lives out of state and has a life of her own, she will periodically call to see how I am.  I am thankful!  A couple of years ago, out of the blue, a woman (my first love!) had messaged me.  She was in town and wanted to catch up.  We had talked for hours, as if 26 years apart were no more than just a day.  I am thankful!  A friend here in town that knows of my strife, who listens to me and gives advice with an unconditional kindness.  I am thankful!  And for the dinner I had today, where I am always invited without fail.  I am thankful!

So in these last few years, on this narrow rocky path that I walk, I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope.  Not that much has really changed for me, but I am changing in the way that I look at things.  Choosing, in how I see.  Deciding to re-look at my life to see how and where I am today.  And I am thankful!

On a final note; the blessing that I was asked to give, I realize now that it was a blessing in disguise.  Not only did they want me to be thankful, but they also hoped it would draw me from my shell.  Never underestimate the power of God to put someone in your life.  Incredible things can happen when you’re willing to believe.

Thankfully Yours, Jeffrey
Form:

Premium Member Ode To America

My fellow countrymen, the President, Politicians, and pulpiteers                                                                     Though not in a cave like Rip Van Winkle, I must have fallen asleep in                                                     "indifference and over-business".  It was more than Van Winkle's 20 years,                                                     because prior to my sleep, I knew an America that dreamed of chickens in every pot; of carports, garages, and picket fences; of a good education and catching the Joneses.                                                                                  

It appears I am awaking, not from, but to, a nightmare; and to what am I opening my eyes to see? Me thinks it's not 'my country tis of thee'; not a chicken in the pot or fryer in the skillet. But I see leaders in the kettle like a frog, where the fire is turned down low and heating slowly. Like the frog, they are relaxed and comfortable. Oh Lord, if they only knew the manner of the frog's demise.                                                                                              

I see changes, and multiple evils have been removed. Recovery and relief have been appropriated and dispatched for the poor. Reforms and revivals have periodically visited us from above. I see blessings and prosperity beyond comparison; melting pots of dreamers and immigrants still dine at our tables. That's part of the American beauty.

Oh America, we are busy face-booking and twitting; But we must realize that                                                          we are also bleeding. I weep for what might lie ahead for us. I grieve for what                                                     we are becoming. I fear for us, though not of guns and nukes from afar;                                                                                             But for rivalries in the white house and the halls of congress. And I fear for our                                                  pulpiteers who also relax in the kettle like the frog.
07312017cjFBPH; August Standard Contest, Brian Strand                                                                                                                                                           Part fiction
Form: Ode

Aspirations


                
                Aspirations are a self revealing Impress, 
                      peeping in gem facet placeholder- 
                                     of ruby glimpses 
                                                 of 
                                   Fairy tale covers, 
               covertly-airbrushed by the atmosphere, 
                 over genuine zirconium expectations.

          In inner light magistrate cache cow- 
                  in the crystal stereo 
            of the now and here, 
         flashes impetus clear  like a streaker revealing 
 to illustrate, the daring, self inspiration of its baud rate 
                                    of liberation-ad-here. 
         Geniing the busy body of it's own needful premise 
   of seedful impetuous implication, promised on premises.
       A banner at happy hour suggesting intoxicating ingestion. 
       Drunk with in-advertising 
     getting premonition of-promotion, imbibing 
the "jasmine in your mind."
Relation-ships moon causes the roiling sea 
to gem carats of her sparkling sirens. 
Alluring rocks to dash you to pieces 
     in drawn compliance..
        Unsown light can give you the creatures of her disease,
calling bluff to serve her touring manifestations.
With marked cards to lay down in flush that had lay dormant but surfaced up from the sleeve 
and from the seep of pasts saved ante ups. 
       They are a whiskey shot at a saloon. 
Liquid courage that causes you to bark at the moon.
Tide a naked ride tied to the back of a train, 
               of bad ideas, after tion, ction and igeon 
      blows your cover, like sudden electrical storm 
 over the rainbow over landover and hot air,-
balloons like a mushroom 
clouded idead ideal that transports you into the stratosphere of her thundering strutopeels. 
Her bubble puts you in her hair brained funny papers, periodically. 
To keep you sober, from occupying 
a van down by the river. (Which sounds good to me) incidentally, but that's neither here nor there, 
immaterial, witness, 
these thought bubbles-seductively 
siring, serial 'vamped vapor round firing 
like a ghost mistress who puts you in a stupor 
on the grounds of desiring, her consecrated things.
art
Form: Rhyme

Reflections

REFLECTIONS

Remember when you walked past that mirror and caught a glimpse of your 
reflection… but you were too focused on ‘living life’ to stop and admire it?

Were you honestly too busy, or was there some level of subconscious insecurity… a 
self imposed tunnel vision…. that drove you to ignore it?
While this moment may seem insignificant, it was precisely at that moment … the 
instance when you chose to be oblivious to the beautiful you… that initiated your 
demise.

You had no intention to relinquish your confidence… no intention to fumble your oh 
so fragile esteem … no intention to forfeit your courage… yet in an instant the plug 
was loosened and your inner drain trickled… leaving you ultimately internally 
dehydrated of all that defined you.

Maybe you were wrapped up in the common misconception that the only gift this 
mirror had to offer was a glorified silhouette… maybe you were momentarily 
consumed with physical beauty, therefore this simple act of ignoring your reflection 
held no meaning. 

We all must stop periodically to soak in the beauty that it us… we all must realize 
that being beautiful has nothing to do with being attractive.

Remember when you fell in love because you saw a reflection of you in the eyes of 
another?
Ahhhhhh…. There it is!

Please… I urge you all to take time to recollect and acknowledge what makes you 
beautiful. 
While you may naturally admire another for being seemingly more talented than 
you…
You know … that person that always seems to be good at everything he or she 
does.

Let your vision not be blurred or skewed… do not associate admiration with envy…
this may lead to internal negativity, causing you to believe that his or her talents 
somehow diminish your value or your own self worth.

You, and only you, can deplete your inner core… you must recognize your gift.

IF YOU ARE READING THIS… you have already, possibly unwittingly, begun your re-
awakening… your journey of self discovery.
You have achieved an admirable level of acceptance and depth to appreciate these 
words.
You are in touch with your inner energy.
You have allowed yourself to smile from within.
Quite simply… you have consciously become aware of your inner beauty.
Form: ABC


9114901123086828174022

September 26, 2014 , 11:49 am Acceptance DALLAS, TX 75241
It's so nice to be accepted, and they added this nifty bar code.

September 26, 2014 , 5:14 pm Departed Post Office DALLAS, TX 75241 
I"m off on the adventure of my life 

September 29, 2014 , 7:06 am, Arrived at Post Office, LEHI, UT 84043 
They told me I've arrived, but I've been talking to the other packages
The other packages told me I'm in Lehi, I want to go to Pleasant Grove
Help!!! Help!!!! Help!!!!

September 29, 2014 , 8:07 am, Sorting Complete, LEHI, UT 84043
Wow, a ride on a conveyor belt, what a thrill to be a package

September 29, 2014 , 8:17 am, Out for Delivery, LEHI, UT 84043 
I'm on a tour of postal routes, anybody here go to Pleaant Grove
 
                                                                                                                         September 29, 2014 , 8:29 am, Arrived at USPS Facility, LEHI, UT 84043 
I thought I had a one way ticket, what's this round trip business???

I may as well enjoy my time in Lehi, no telling if I'll ever see it again
I think I"ll just turn over and get some rest

Still here in Lehi
Hopefully I'll leave soon

Another day in Lehi,
Maybe if I jump up and down the postmaster will see me

Still another day in Lehi
I raise my hand to get someone's attention 
Oh My Gosh, I've got no hands what will I do???

The postal worker just threw me on a gurney 
I'm out the door on my way to a new adventure. 

October 7, 2014 , 7:20 am, Arrived at USPS Facility, SALT LAKE CITY, UT 84199
Wow, this building is huge, I better get out my camera to take photos
Oh drat, no camera, he didn't pack it what a bummer

October 7, 2014 , 9:57 am, Departed USPS Facility, SALT LAKE CITY, UT 84199 

Your item departed our USPS facility in SALT LAKE CITY, UT 84199 on October 7, 2014 at 9:57 am. The item is currently in transit to the destination. Information, if available, is updated periodically throughout the day. Please check again later.

Did I get to my destination?
Did I ever meet another package so that we could marry and have little envelopes?
What other adventures will I have???

For further updates, check usps.com just use my title as a tracking number
© Jim Martin  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Reflection

You look back at your life
Wishing you had more to show
Wishing you had done more
You find yourself periodically saying
That you've always wanted to do this and that
But never had the time, never took the time
You have these unfinished dreams....
They remained only dreams
Dreams that only grew brighter with years
But became duller with time
Until they faded away all together
You grow old wondering what stopped you
What you could've done different
Maybe you would have enjoyed life for what it was
Did you have someone to share it with
Would that have even mattered
Maybe if you chose the path less chosen
Maybe if you took a stand
Would you be wondering of the life you led
Could've been so much more
If you only did instead of just wanted
If you made it happen instead of pining after
Would you still have these regrets
Walls seem to close in around me
As the truth is finally revealed
And I find myself many years older
Reflecting back on my life
Realizing I have nothing to show for it
Realizing I have no clue who I am
Maybe I am who someone made
Like a doll off a factory line
Someone else's design
Asking myself a thousand questions
Why did I settle
why did I give up
Why did I give in
Why did I lose hope
Why did I lose love
Why didn't I live
Why didn't I speak up
And I realize I'll end up stuck
Never able to be truly happy
Was it all worth this life I led
I had dug a ever-growing grave
and one by one, piece by piece
I threw a little of myself inside
Down into the deep cold darkness
Hard to have hope of what could be
If there's no support or encouragement
Once satisfied with the pieces left behind
I started to fill it up with damp dirt
Out of sight out of mind
No more longing of what could've been
All that is left is a mere marker that reads
Here lies what meant the most to her
And this hits me with such force
Can't believe this has gone on so long
Why didn't I see it all before
Was I really so blind to it all
Did I really sacrifice so much
To make others happy and satisfied
And for what do I have to show
Nothing but a hole starting to fill
I won't be looking back down the road
Wishing I had stayed true to myself

Mama

If mama could see me now, I’d say
You’d be jumping for joy
I used to stand tall on the old dusty chair next to the flower pot she used for an ash tray
I’d tell her, mama those flowers won’t grow like that
They need the dew drops that absorb the morning sun lights beams
Hair pulled back into a braid, I'd jump from house hold object to object
Playing kings and queens
She’d walk by kicking up lint balls so big, 
I’d hold onto her feet, her sweatpants smelled of bad sex and old gin
Cleaning wasn’t her religion she used to say
Snow falling from her hand, is how I described it,
I’d tried to pretend it was Christmas 
But everyone knows that the ash didn’t melt the same way
Mama, I’d ask her, tell me stories of your life.
Tears would run down her face as she cried all night
I would sit there holding up grocery bags of bottles but I never got through to her
The store tab was maxed out as they sold cigarettes and vodka for me to give to her
They knew me there, my age and all 
She would just sit there yelling, 
Acrylic nails tapping on the fake wooden table
Asking why I was late, and why my grades were unstable
The bruises I didn’t ask for, I called them body art
They twisted blue, green, and purple up and down my arm
Mama I’d tell her, please sing me to sleep.
She couldn’t hear me over the T.V and the new boyfriend that was passed out drunk as could be
I got older as her habits got worse
Then one day I left, silently into the night
I thought I was free and I would never come back
That’s my mama, I left all by herself.
In the battle of demons with no way out
Eventually I caved
And would visit her periodically, braid her hair, we would converse
But mama doesn’t hear me anymore, even less then before
That car that she crashed into, left her brain dead with so many scars
Mama I’d tell her, I’m getting married this week
I cried when she asked who I was, then said I should leave
I tried to give back, and pay what was owed to her
A good place to stay, warm food and clothes
She never gave any of these to me, 
But her past was a mess and her future was worse
So what if she hurt me, 
My love for her always came first
Form: Rhyme

Blacklisted

The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-

"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''

Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,  
especially with unbounding determination.

Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred, 
through no fault of your own. 

When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!

Common sense says, 
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!" 

Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy, 
back there 
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!

Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....

The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.

Furthermore,
Suddenly, 
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night, 
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.

Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite 
appearing with fake praise.

Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.

Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.

Envy
burns bold, boils, 
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.

Adding to your arsenal.

Stumble not 
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits... 
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their 
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens 
which only bolster your begotten flame.

Remain steadfast, undaunted

                           TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________           TO            ________________________
                            MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!

*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL    



~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet, 
Shady Records~

Premium Member Thanksgiving Day Blessings For My Children

Lovingly Dedicated to my Precious Angels: 

Tammie, Tiger, Lanissa, Dougie and Janene - and of course to all of my other adoptive angels too!

Thanksgiving Day Blessings For My Children

So thankful for the blessings
Of my five beautiful children
My truly precious angels
All were sent from heaven
Yes, even my stepdaughter is
An equal gift from God above
She completely fills my heart
And carries all this momma love
Looking back at my childhood
It was the best time growing up
I never dreamed it could be better
Until I received the gifts of mom luck
At that point in time
I devoted my entire life
To raising my children
No matter what the strife
I worked so many jobs raising them
Periodically three to four at a time
Even the tiniest moments we shared
Are forever memorable in my mind
I treated each and every moment
As if it was the best time found
To show my children just how
To bounce the joy all around
Now even down to the youngest
Of my grandchildren do know
All the favorite things I cherish
That makes my heart glow
Happiness, dancing, singing
Smiles, nature, balance, peace and rocks
All filled with mountains of love
And I really do mean lots
The most glorious feeling in the world
Is at this very moment - it’s so true
As I think of how all of my children
Pass the same to their loved ones too
It certainly is a good thing 
I’m gifted with a big family
To pass the joy all around
To any others they may see
It has been worth all the struggles
And the bumpy roads I’ve been through
To reach this glorious moment in time
Where will the next 56 years take me to
Love and joy are the seeds of inspiration
Those gifts that God sends to me
I kind of wonder if anyone
Could ever be happier than me
As I wait for them to all to arrive
To celebrate this Thanksgiving Day
I am counting all my blessings in thanks
Because this really is the best day
I really do wish happiness
For everyone else too
But for me, all I can say is
Hallelujah and whooo-hooo!
 
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Form: Narrative

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