Long Practical Poems
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I barely knew the grandma on my father’s side,
but Grandma Owens I knew fairly well.
She was my mother’s mother; she took great pride
in cooking us up dinners that were swell.
We’d all come running when her food we’d smell.
I don’t know much about when she was young,
the names of all her siblings or
how many of them she was raised among.
Her name was Doris, and she bore
five children (of daughter there were four).
I never really got to know her when
she had the bloom of youth upon her face.
My mom divorced, and I met Grandma then
because Mom took us back home to the place -
the farm where she’d grown up – her roots there to retrace.
About two years I lived there at the farm
where Grandpa milked his cows and worked in a big field.
There was a yellow house and big red barn.
I liked it there, but not too much appealed
to me about my grandmother. She kept so much concealed.
She had no great relationship with me
or with my sisters (anyway, if she did, I can't recall).
Her real authentic self I failed to see,
and most of what I knew of her at all
were things my mother told me. That info was so small.
Her cooking in the kitchen, a woman gray and stout,
is how I think or her, and always she seemed old.
Few hugs she gave to me, but without a doubt,
she was a thrifty woman, or so I had been told,
She’d been a nurse for babies! So odd this seemed for one so cold.
When Grandpa died, my grandma was a go-getter.
She lived in an apartment. Then she lost a lot of weight!
I visited her sometimes and got to know her better.
I’m practical like Grandma was. That’s one thing I learned late.
She was a godly woman too. Hope she’s there right now at Heaven’s Gate.
Feb. 23, 2023
for Writing Challenge - G Words - Poetry Contest (grandma)
Sponsor: Constance La France
What can I say, how can I say it?
I know, but I know not much
I remember, but I remember not all
I wasn’t confused only engrossed
I didn’t go mental just intoxicated
a delusional reality and practical evidence not believed
yet, too delicious to simply forget and ignore.
The staged madness, acted fight
the dirty talks, voracious confrontations
the tearing of clothes, rushing of body parts
the intensity’s stampede and lustful acceleration
combine to create a ring of fire
accepting the action of an erotic volcano.
The mind is still in shock
and words stuck in a hanging elevator.
aggression hardly mingles with sweetness
raging fire not a familiarity to beauty
but reverse is the case in such a master class
as the whole of nature stands still
to prepare the honours of our sexual manifestations.
Creating air squeezing sounds from my lips on her meaty flesh
from toe to knee in a famished fashion
while my hands plough her thighs
way up to her chest’s body guards
propagate deep mourns of her susceptible acceptance
transferred to the curiosity of my weapon.
and the majesty of such an erotic presence
is added by the oily friction of both skins.
All muscles in their hundreds are at work
it’s incomprehensible to know the brain isn’t in command
all charges are at their peak
iIt’s unimaginable to know the electricity wasn’t felt
climax is reached, sweat and panting noticed
but are well deserved awards
of a sweet play governed by the rules of violence.
Dreaming,with eyes wide open..yearning,to know what's true..Awake,but still unfocused.. How
could this be real?.. I have to be asleep still..so I pinch myself, to startle me awake..my mind
is playing tricks on me..this has gotta all be fake..A practical joke,some elaborate scheme..but
who other than myself..could possibly know the woman in my dreams..I dare not share her,to
no one I've mentioned a peep..she's my gift alone..she came to me in my sleep..we speak of life
and love..laughter,seems never ending..faith, is brought up often..at times I pray i can bring
her with me..My eyes begin to focus..the pinch has brought me from my slumber..my dream
woman lies next to me,she's snuggled in my covers..my prayers have been answered.. I thank
the lord above..her eyes flutter and I see her smile..I reach over, and give the woman of my
dreams....A good morning kiss and hug!....
Looking back, it seems I've made a giant plastic nest.
Plastic cars -plastic totes- plastic toys
plastic guns- plastic utensils- plastic boats
plastic bags- plastic Easter eggs- plastic remotes.
Plastic Jesus hanging from a plastic cross
a plastic grimace on his perfect plastic face.
I've fallen hard for plastics
so cheap
so practical
no more slivers of glass in the soul
It's really God-like
it's an all-around helpful entity
we can dump our excessive baggage.
It'll never complain- it never goes away...
Plastic was the answer
until it worked its way into the food chain.
Back in the day, at about the age of 7 or 8
mother(step) schooled me on how to wash dishes.
The plastic plates were the toughest to master.
Mother(step) would run her finger over the surface.
Like a pimply teenager's face, all but impossible to get rid of all the grease.
She'd disgustedly toss the plastic God
back into the greasy suds.
I'd scrub the greasy sin from my plastic God...
over and over again.
Plastic has polluted me. I have a plastic brain.
The price I pay for sleeping with plastic people.
Scholars who took part in the last conference
On logical judgments and system of reference,
Following the instrumental rationality, consumerism,
Cultural industry under economical anew fetishism,
Rested hanged on the sky of their great expectations.
But, all their sophisticated speech hid big temptations:
Some discovered America in loveliness and loneliness,
In a touching balance between skepticism and happiness;
Peoples from the postmodernism`s cage of our season,
Even monks of cold religion between borders of reason,
Who climbed the heights to bet on their life, men can't
Follow transcendence, by reading duty as love in Kant;
The only song has been burned in those joyful hearts
Of light, when with broken wings, they won grey clouds;
On Anakena, the "leap month" of ancient hot summers,
They counted in large numbers of wonders, of dreamers.
Politicians dreamt the United Europe…under the Asian flags;
And wind of revolutions brought new dreams at their legs;
Kant type of education was singing self`s song as best attempt;
But as valiant love loves duelist from conquest's not exempt,
The verse has long claws and good determination to stay:
It is desperately hung just at the other side of the grey.
Like addressing to Moai –the statue with long ears
I`m not sure, that from this little distance, he hairs.
The winning contestant of the Tangata-manu egg hunt
Well, first he's in the background, then, he's in the front,
To check if on the world`s egg is written: “Hope”
Or if suddenly, it will roll down from the slope.
If “Eye for eye and tooth for tooth”, the love is knife
That cuts the residual truth and experience of life.
Try to save wild ontology with means at hand:
Is the transcendental way a no man's land?
Bring knowledge and the exchange relation of truth
To shake the wicked bitter sides in wondering youth,
But timelessness of truth, is always wandering youth,
In metaphysics as 'battle-ground' if words had not been sooth
Read Pure Reason as a 'court of law' for good tomorrow
Else, each verse in my stanza is but “Guilt and Sorrow”.
If you don`t read the pair verse from William Wordsworth
For:”Clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth…”
Are you a follower of trying to be Sagacious?
(A lone voice whispers)
Here's to you
The readers, writers and poets in whatever field
Always remember
Seeking further knowledge is a gift
It's how we all grow in whatever we do
So never yield and constantly look for more ways to lift
Even if it means entering the long hours into a lone graveyard shift
Keep searching like a metaphorical Indiana Jones or Lara Croft
For a treasure to help those who might be drifting in seas
Where hope seems not to exist
And who might just need something to darkness resist
Title:
Self-Knowledge
Do you believe in absorbing the esoteric linked to living
The supernatural impressions linked to just giving
To help clear your own pathways to find ways to deliver poetic prayers
To those struggling with just living
With any mental or traumatic depression's
To then walk down life's many metaphysical runways
Like a young Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel or an inspired
Paul Poiret
If so
Because I believe
In you
Always be optimistic
For true belief
Lies in all you do
To help transform your soul
Into a sage or mystic
Allowing you to chase rare stars and wild Middle Earth dreams
To bind mistakes
To white feathers
To then throw them into Healing Fires
For their old powers over you
To in rising grey smoke
Retire
As you learn
Which new bridges to
Cross
And which old bridges
To burn
For
Sacred Self Knowledge
Is ubiquitous
A chimera
A conjunction of wild beasts
Roaming wild
Living life through
Nine letters
Like a follower of being sagacious
Which to the child of the Revived
Can never be
Denied
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Sagacious:
Having or showing acute mental discernment and keen practical sense; shrewd:
Socrates, that sagacious Greek philosopher, believed that the easiest way to learn was by asking questions.
Synonyms: perspicacious, keen, sharp, acute, judicious, intelligent, clever, discerning, sage, and wise.
REVIVED:
Refreshed, renewed, reborn, energized, resuscitated, recreated, and regenerated.
“A Tortoise and Hare decide to race. The hare is so confident in the lead that he naps while the tortoise keeps going to win.” Aesop’s Fable
Learning from their practical contest
Hare and tortoise built friendship, really best
Helping each other with kindness’ zest
Complementing one another to the fullest
Hare in running fast, finding nest of sweet rest
With tortoise sharing provisions for food fest
Thankful to God* for their partnership that's blest.
*1 Thessalonians 5:18 - In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
February 29, 2024
1st place, "The Rest of the Story" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Miranda Hawley; judged on 3/19/2024
Your aura glows softly on your face,
creating a magical effect.
And your sharp wit cuts clean to the chase,
never dulling from age or neglect.
You taught me to walk tall, never crawl,
exchanging my nagging doubts for pride.
And lifted my spirits, should they fall:
steadfastly standing right by my side.
You cultivated the best in me,
and encouraged my smile to begin.
While your love guided my heart to see
that my feelings needn't be locked within.
I'm so fortunate to have found you,
for you're both my soulmate and best friend.
And proof positive dreams can come true,
a practical and fanciful blend.
Sometimes in your life there's a love, that comes along.
This particular love you long for you don't need to wish for because it's written its ment to be and it will happen and you know it's going to be wonderful, its part of you it's what makes you whole.
In my case it is truelly my sister.
The minute she was born she was mine forever. I looked at her and knew. The connection between us so powerful and wonderful there are just no words to describe.
And as she's grown into this amazing women she's got every attribute I could have dreamed for her.
She is beautiful down to her core, she's intelligent in a text book way and wise before her time,
Yet she's extremely witty and funny and can bring me to tears and the amount of belly laughs she has made me have has caused me pain and to wet my self copious amounts of times.
She is full of heart, so loving, empathetic and caring beyond words, organised and practical, but carefree and messy when she's having fun.
She is black and white but open for reason and alternative ways.
She is not judgmental, but if needed will pull you in line out of concern and love. She is spiritual and harmonious. She is ambitious and successful and thirsty for knowledge and new things.
She is generous and will help you in anyway she can and is old School in her mannerisms and has utmost respect for the elderly and needy.
She's a family girl and will do anything for all and they know she has got there back. She's a mother an outstanding, mother blessed with a pigeon two that she totally deserves and has completed her world.
My sister to you I say Thankyou. Thankyou for giving me the privilege of having you as mine. As my parents masterpiece and my lifelong gift the most precious gift I have ever been given.
My love for you is the sort of love that will never compare to any other and my wish to you is of eternal love, health and happiness and for every wish for you to wish to be granted for too.
I love you my little sister and all I can say is you changed my world the minute you entered into it and life just hasn't been the same.
You are my Earth angel my gift from the heavens above and how lucky am I to have had the opportunity to feel real genuine, heart exploding love.
Thankyou
(in memory of my maternal grandmother)
Your house huddled under low, mauve December dusk.
Negotiating the five ice-glazed steps, cautiously quiet,
silently twisting the key in the lock,
stealthy as a thief at midnight.
Invading your personal domain,
helpless secret-stealer, what other could I do?
A cold dissolution hung in the air,
a dead dust-light on once familiar belongings.
Switched to auto, my lonely hands
sorted a secret stair cupboard stash:
Lavender Spode and serpent-swirly Cloisonné.
Your must-speckled books had opened like orchids
but your ghost-gloves lay lifeless,
bereft of the blunt, practical hands.
Desolation looked out on the garden,
frost-frozen: the crumbling corpse wall,
the raspberry leaves clamped in their little ice-shells,
waiting for their summertime rubies, those jewels of July,
and waiting for you, your deft, natural touch.
Silence laid a stilling hand on quotidian objects
as I laid your life away in boxes.
I didn't hear your loneliness
when it pushed at the door, insistently.
Seroxat and Liebfraumilch kept you company.
Why didn't you persist?
What triggered the retreat back into yourself?
All through the hushed dusk of December and sleet storms of January
I lay with your loss, under spattering rain,
my winter fragmented, its ice-prism shattered -
my actions mere string-jerkings of the puppeteer Grief.