Long Prognostication Poems
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There was a mentor and a mentee.
A devoted teacher and his disciple.
Mr. Rucker was a loving master, and
Kenny was a very submissive student.
The mentor was 55, and the mentee
was 15 when they met. They were
a 'match made-in-heaven'.
This bond was broken after 5 years
because the mentor contracted cancer with
a very dire prognostication. Kenny was able
to visit with Mr. Rucker for about 6 months.
He died 6 months after Kenny's last visit.
Kenny never found another teacher to replace
the one with whom he so greatly benefited.
On a very windy day, Mr. Rucker spent a couple
of hours on the banks of the river in their
town. While there, before his demise, he thought
it well for him to release the 'Bond Card" TO THE
WIND as he thought about his student Kenny.
The 'Bond Card' was created and shared between them;
something in hand identifying their personal bond.
This bond was set long before the tutor and cancer
met. On one side of the card were 9 words from mentor
to mentee. "Be the you for whom there is no substitute".
On the other side were 10 words to be repeated by the
mentee to himself every day. "I am the me for whom
there is no substitute".
Long after Mr. Tucker's demise, Kenny would often pull
out his 'Bond Card' and lift it TO THE WIND IN THE SKY.
As he held the card tightly in his right hand, he touched his
heart with his left hand. Remembering the words on the
'Bond Card' that Mr. Rucker taught him to say, Kenny,
with tears in his eyes, would say, "I am the me for
whom there is no substitute".
102722PSCtest, A Note In The Wind. Charles Messina. 2P
Congressman and senators forewent
all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii
hull ding broadswords, derringers
and exhibiting the right to bare firearms
as all hell broke loose as testimony
to the dire prognostication foretold
more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que
kind from lambastes, fisticuffs
and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee
said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and cock knee
stance when dire straits called for restraint
against excess versus raising cane old hickory
i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy
plus verve espoused by fellow delegates,
and his hologram ghost bloody
from battle scars outside and/or inside
the halls of government where blows bashed
dovetailed elected legislators to officiate
as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed
Federalist against their nemesis
of the twenty first century
during the term of Donald Trump
who throve on the cutthroat frenzied
internecine lawlessness dashed
to and fro, hither and yon
any hopelessness for civilians to escape bloodshed
spilled from without vaunted halls of justice,
the approach of doomsday
writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed
with uproarious coup d’etat,
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless *****
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy orgasmic passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
This run of good days is going to end
bad times are coming just around the bend
cash in your chips, there ain’t no tomorrow
future holds only worry and sorrow.
Armageddon of our own creation
as we burn in pyres of self-cremation
caught in words of convenient denial
grasp not the flash of the truthteller’s smile.
Yet from the rubble, a New Deal is made
Fridays for Future, a children’s crusade
as those whose time has come, now realise
elder’s inaction has darkened their skies.
We who’ve failed in our prognostication
pass the stick to a new generation.
7/9/2019
She smiles
and considers the crowd,
all backward somersaulting
detached vagabonds, all,
serious soft smalls revealed -
marshmallows imbued
with the glee of writing
irregular poetry;
works of art thou art,
thou art, thou art, all indeed -
and what did Dickinson say,
“the Maples never knew
that you were coming -
I declare, how red
their faces grew” -
well, we all march on,
and by the side of our roads,
the righteous town criers
of prognostication, stand
their grounds for commentary,
like sensate servile monks
full of the base sound facts,
ringing their shellac bells,
like an exercise in pulling weights;
the waits inside their cries foretell,
of the things we do not know,
will never know,
like the bride we all are,
gullible, innocent of what is to come,
but we dance our dance
flirting with luscious life
beckoning come hither,
we still write our own vows,
and throw our skirts asunder,
spinning bottles, all undressed
half addressed half said,
punctilious lost in
wayward pentameter,
such bad whirling dervish
behaviour,
truth and dare
and Father Time
will kiss and tell
we poetically march on
we all march on
we think we know
which side we're on
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“All those Hills you left for me to Hue,
There was no Purple suitable -
You took it all with you.
Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door -
I will not be pursued”
Emily Dickinson. March.
Ott's (lots) chrysanthemums in bloom
pitch perfect today
September 14th, 2022.
861 Gravel Pike, Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania 19473
the ideal place
if/when ye dear reader
experience maddening rage
(against the machine)
causing ordinarily calm demeanor
to fuss and fume
perhaps as best man/woman
unbridled quibble between
newly minted bride or groom
(similar scenario between yours truly
and the thirty something gal he married)
both of us barely
able, eager, ready, and willing
to resolve conflict,
(short of getting a divorce),
where nuptial contention didst loom
now... courtesy cap donned with a plume,
and after more'n a quarter century
united in holy moly matrimony.
Highland Manor Apartments
affords quick jaunt
veritable exotic getaway
scant miles away
Schwenksville establishment rooted
at least last half century
local tropical paradise beckons
passer(s) by to saunter
imbibe fragrant aroma,
espy splash of color on hillside
ease hilly draw painter with palette
photographer, musician, writer...
especially during dead of winter,
indoor botanical garden
bounteous, capacious, herbaceous...
topography exquisitely, heavenly,
incredibly... landscaped flora
to dazzle sense and sensibility,
inebriating, intoxicating, invigorating...
metaphorical cathartic ambrosia,
potent fragrant blend
wafting within englassed green acres
buzzfeeding, kickstarting, spellbinding
pollinating, germinating, birthing...
analogous natural stimulant,
holistic, magically therapeutic
without deleterious hallucinogenic,
nor harmful narcotic qualities,
also terrific soporific,
a soothing environment
to gravitate, meditate, ruminate...
healthy psychological restorative
hypothetical scenario to heal
mental, physical, and spiritual wounds
to strengthen body,
mind, and body triage
woke benumbed atavistic
primitive *****sapiens
nihilistic grim outlook (mine)
housing grim prognostication
foreboding bleak aggrievement
impossible submission toward
apocalyptic trend to escape.
Today, our cat spent some time with the vet for his prognostication.
It had been a couple of years or so since Simba's last examination.
Simba had no say in the matter due to our paucity of conversation.
As I coaxed him into his carrying cage, he howled in desperation!
The vet and staff look forward to Simba's visit with little anticipation!
He gets rather grumpy at the vets, exhibiting aggressive agitation!
Hence, for examinations he must be placed under very heavy sedation;
Only then can the veterinarian proceed to practice his vocation!
His eyes, ears, nose and throat were fine including his respiration.
There was no evidence of fleas or any problems with his urination.
The old fella has only 16 of 28 teeth due to a previous operation,
But no matter, he eats like an army mule in handling mastication!
For his arthritis the vet prescribed a bottle of medication,
And for good measure he was given a rabies inoculation.
I'm aware that "cat-scans" are used in treating the human population.
By Jove! Simba received a true "cat"-scan as a part of his observation!
I anticipated receipt of the bill for the tests with some trepidation!
To pay for all of this, need I present an arm or leg for amputation?
After all, we'd do anything for our old pal, 'tis our obligation.
We want to keep him around for nine more lives for our delectation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Most rigorous astrology can hardly divine
Why flamy galactic orbs often burning fall;
Or the calm pull behind shiniest meteorites'
Hurtling lower from their neat nestlings tall.
I own that apt eyes as of the lauded Magi may
From starry ciphers tap signs of a coming day;
Yet no tiny mass among the fiery marvels high,
Can answer when first they graced the idle sky.
While I'd rate their near-syzygies tolerably rare,
I know ethereal balls as bereft of all oral strain.
All sheen but full non-awareness of birth-date,
Ought to render these speechless vapors vain.
What telescoped forms of dumb orbitings mute
Might imbue with insight in placid images cute
Any salient squinter into thick lens herebelow,
Where tiptop harps and strung wonders bore?
Astrologers and their crafty stars will sweat to tell,
Where and when their augury-warped instincts fell.
Congressman and senators forewent
all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii
hull ding broadswords, derringers
and firearms as all hell broke loose as testimony
to the dire prognostication foretold
more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que
kind from lambastes, fisticuffs
and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee
said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and cock knee
stance when dire straits called for restraint
against excess versus raising cane old hickory
i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy
and verve espoused by fellow delegates, and his hologram ghost bloody
from battle scars outside and/or inside
the halls of government where blows bashed
dovetailed elected legislators to officiate
as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed
Federalist against their nemesis
of the twenty first century
during the term of Donald Trump
who throve on the cutthroat frenzied
internecine lawlessness dashed
to and fro, hither and yon any hope for civilians to escape bloodshed
spilled from without vaunted halls of justice,
the approach of doomsday
writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed
with uproarious coup d’etat,
when Democrats outliers gnashed
teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws
pistol whipped and hashed
tagged traitors who roared America
went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed
when Donald Trump ran the country
into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue
in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed
Form:
Overwhelmed by life's burdens
that bring on an unexpected crisis?
Breathe and touch reality
when all your roads are shot,
hope for change and don't lose heart;
not all of us have been there and felt rage,
known urge and sought out empathy
from friends who had courage
to lift the curtain which hid ingenuity
and consider every possibility.
Why have we been caught up in such utter state of misery,
given up on happiness by allowing demise?
Some of us blame their misfortunes on destiny....
but what's destiny? A succession of events that change life?
The real cause of failure is ignore prognostication,
and not be willing to take up challenges with determination!
Achievers always think positive, they breathe and touch reality
by relying on intuition to prevent a financial meltdown;
life-long dreamers act on another level of mentality:
which one will suit you better to achieve your potential and win?