Long Pronouncement Poems
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“Even after our corporeal form leaves, a letter speaks to us in a language so intimate, conveying pent up emotions so personalized that one cannot express through spoken words without causing embarrassment to the one thus divulging” ~ By Poet
It was like a cunning marauder,
That cancer sneaked into his healthy body.
After the initial shock, John got over it.
Then ensued a brave fight to restrict its advance.
But it ravaged his body inch by inch.
Stage four cancer took residency in his bones.
After thirteen months of incessant struggle
His invincible life came to a peaceful halt!
At the end of his funeral rites, his best friend
Showed himself up before the congregation.
In halting voice, he said he was on a task,
To read out a letter John had prepared.
Long before his death but had kept sealed until then.
Opening an envelope, with wavering hands
Like an envoy divinely ordained on a sacred mission
He took out the carefully folded sheets of paper.
The subdued murmur inside the spacious hall
Gave way to silent breathless anticipation.
'My dearest family and friends' the words ran,
'Long at last, I am at peace, absolutely at peace,
With no emails to check, no bills to pay,
No more deadlines to be worried over!
But unfortunately, no charming females in sight''
The words breathed his flamboyant humour,
With his trademark grace and copious dignity.
He led the audience through his life under death sentence.
He was thankful for the love and concern,
His friends and family had so profusely lavished on,
In his ailing days of agony and dejection.
That exceeded far more than what an ordinary man,
In the whole of his lifetime could accumulate!
The last part was a pronouncement of love,
On his beloved wife and his wonderful child,
Who stood by him in silent suffering by proxy,
With a plea to all to keep peace with one's soul.
Despite life's sham, drudgery, and shattered dreams!
The congregation silently dispersed, walking away,
Into a day of sunshine, greatly consoled and inspired!
July 29 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Jeremiah 35-38
Key Verse – Jeremiah 35:13 Thus saith the LORD of hosts… Will ye not receive instruction to hearken to my words? saith the LORD.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY INSTRUCTION GIVER
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your supreme commandment
Thank You for dwelling in me for my fulfillment
Surely making me receive Your enlightenment
So that I can stand upon Your upliftment.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your immutable Word
Thank You for revealing to me Your truth’s record
Surely allowing me to use the Spirit’s sword
So that I can share salvation Gospel by the grace You afford.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your pronouncement of blessing
Thank You for laying in me Your heavenly contentment’s praising
Surely letting me enjoy Your spiritual growth-raising
So that I can stay in Your revival-pressing.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your leadership that’s sovereign
Thank You for meeting me for my prayer request again and again
Surely inviting me to seek Your help along Your victorious terrain
So that I can fight by Your cause that is never in vain.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your powerful deliverance
Thank You for seizing me from imprisoning arrogance
Surely turning me to Your ready guidance
So that I can remain in Your constant sustenance.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your upholding welfare
Thank You for rescuing me from sin-mire’s eternal scare
Surely valuing me to treasure Your loving care
So that I can delight by Your counselling stare.
Lord God, You are my instruction Giver with Your merciful compassion
Thank You for transforming me by Your hand of perfection
Surely enabling me to prevail along Your protection
So that I can live in Your will’s commission.
July 29, 2023
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Form:
Alone in the night gazing at the beauty
of a celestial masterpiece yet untouched by the cover of cloud,
an unrelenting silence is interrupted by the insistent ticking
of an old grandfather clock in the parlor.
A candle with a dual wick,
rests upon a table made of knotty pine
roughly chiseled to add a rustic touch;
providing my only light,
intensifies a floor of polished oak.
I sit watching shadows flicker across plaster walls;
mimic eerie phantoms slithering throughout the room
refusing to take recognizable shape, cause unwanted distraction.
The work before me suffers, in stark contrast,
pitifully begs text be laid to cover the nudity of the page before me.
The accomplishments of my life pale in contrast what keeps me awake this night;
the plight of a nation will rest on the passion of my words,
my friends and patriots rely on a text
that will take them from anarchy, to democracy.
Shadows appearing to take shape play tricks upon my vision,
reveal a sight resembling a picture of a united
uniformly defined crowd, cheering and waving as one voice,
one sound.
Suddenly, it becomes clear, the page before me fills with pronouncement,
my chest swells with pride, what is written this night becomes page after page,
until finally,
to carry a nation desiring riddance,
a Declaration Of Independence.
The original draft of the Declaration was written by Thomas Jefferson from 11 June 1776 to
28 June 1776. It was finalized and approved by the Congress and printed on the evening of
July 4th.
The original document was signed by only John Hancock as President of the Congress and
Charles Thompson, as the Secretary of the Congress. Other signatories were added
beginning in August and weren't completed for several months.
You indicated I don’t listen.
I respectfully disagree.
I hear you.
I just don’t like what you have to say.
Pretending to ignore you takes tremendous effort.
Quick to dismiss
that which emanates from a source
other than your own lips –
and it’s not like you’re the only one who likes to hear himself talk.
Trying to sleep
never should be undertaken.
That’s why we fall asleep.
There’s no effort.
Fall’s inevitable.
There’s a season for everything.
But this one’s
short lived
and seemingly doesn’t come as often as it used to
before global warming and other major concerns
evidently.
… thinking about our earlier discussion
makes me wish I lacked lips
and that the cliché about going in
one ear and out the other was more
literal than figurative.
I figure eventually this noise will
QUIET DOWN!
so that trying morphs
to falling
and dreamless sleep supplants
the constant drone of something
terribly wrong.
Panic attacks that
neverend
or seemingly seem so
prior to this pillow talk –
a case for a better
container:
containment is key.
It turns out
that my point of entry
always my biggest nightmare.
Big is such a small word.
I wish it was more attentive
of its status as an anomaly –
just a monosyllabic
monstrosity of awfulness.
B-I-G
A word so tiny
even toddlers
master its annunciation.
BIG!
From that which is so small.
If I said I forgave you
it would be nothing but a lie
but you would not apologize
anyway.
So all this talk is trash.
Be the big one.
Say you’re sorry.
Just refuse for another
Pronouncement
of lackluster
underachievement.
My comfort zone.
I’m sorry.
Yet again.
Anyways, this fella an’ me, we were on a rhyme-spree.
“Bob, ” I asked, “to what now do you aspire?”
To which he replied, in a drawl slow as a wet week,
”A spire? A place no man can dwell”.
This was going to be a long ride, I could tell.
“No, Bob,” said I, wanting to make myself quite clear,
“what I mean to say is: where do you go from here? And
Not just in the geographical sense,
Though in that I have an interest as well.”
To which he replied most cryptically
“Interest compounds! Fate confounds!”
- a pronouncement with which I could not argue.
Not understanding its import in the least,
I just nodded as if to concur with this profundity
and once again ventured to elicit
an intelligible response to my enquiry, to wit:
what it was indeed that drove him onwards.
“What I mean to ask, Bob,
What it is I am seeking
Is simply to know where it is
You’re intending to go from here?”
To which he replied quite stridently
“I ain’t goin’ anywheres that I know of,
But you are surely welcome to string along.”
At this point I could not but help from thinking
That he was thinking this was a song.
“That I would very much like to do, Bob,
“And try to be good company.”
Straightaway I regretted my presumption
That I could be a welcomed
traveling companion of his.
“There’s no good company anymore,” he opined,
Pressing hard down on the throttle,
“we passed the last one way back a-piece –
Now kindly do pass me that bottle.”
The Law
Science is merely the behavior exhibited from a relationship. Magic the same. Science comes from natural law, magic the supernatural. People have their feet
in both camps. That's why we need
an attorney and glue for lamps. To show that the badge of consciousness is a recognition of self not an overstepping (harm) into someone else's coat of arms. Unless the two shall mingle, for that you shall need deed of license. Or a
warrant. To not be a selfish singularity, single- but- seeking-vows for the pronouncement of marriage. For marriage is a Sacrament. The right or rite of union between two separate camps or encampments and war can be chaos. The opposite of order. Lawlessness. Confusion, loss, sometimes of faculty, sometimes
of ultimate costs.
See, the badge is clear, shined for display so that behavior esteems (non dissolution), it
as according to law. The order of the Universe for those who also esteem, God, basking, in the light ( of righteous operation). To be loved and have a reason to be. To be accepted into the clan of Family, affinity. Union, therefore is King. Of passionate things. Connections. Themed. In symbols (or badges) we call need. Directions. Paths. Empathy. The warrant that was needed before. Called a reason to be....needed. The behavior of the Most natural and supernatural law.
My heart sings on this lazy summer night at the amazing beauty of the
moonlight illuminating the Chesapeake Bay,
making a solemn pronouncement of it to be magical and mystical.
From the comfort of my screened porch, I am at ease in my padded chase
watching this magnificent adoration between the moon and
the Chesapeake Bay.
But I am not alone in my empirical study of the admiration between
the moon and the bay.
For the beauty of the two fathers moods.
The fireflies move swiftly through the night winking their approval.
So encourage by the magic, a Loon calls out to his mate to come sit
beside him to share in this spellbinding view.
The frogs croak out a sonata to help define the moment.
Happy for the moonlight the populace of fishes nibbles at the bugs
that surf the surface.
The age old owl sits on a limb to mesmerize to realize that he missed
the meal of a small country mouse who scurried by.
My skin is a glittering onyx under the moonglow, and my hair, thick as
the Congo jungle is dampened by the misty and salty breeze that is sent
my way from the bay.
There is nothing so exquisite and provocative as the moonlight and the Chesapeake Bay.
In the envelopment of sweet tranquility, I fell into a daydream.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake
Refuse to hang the innocent
While your gang acquits the guilty
In a tooth for a tooth pronouncement
You state in collusion with the mighty.
Accuse with the ruse in your news dissidents
Whipped into submission
To the coercion of incidents
Incorporated into a dictatorial diction.
Cruise out of control
With your weapons of avid annihilation
Primed to wiped out any pesky patrol
That surveys the sadness and sickness in your jubilation.
Freeze the breeze trees in infancy
Stunted when you hunt down their xylem
In a show of tethered truancy
Boosted by a nihilist anthem.
Use distorted dialogues
Conducted at cross purposes
In muted prologues and monologues
With enfeebled and emaciated faces bereft of choices.
Save knaves and staves
Slaves struggle to free from the tyranny
Perpetrated in war veteran graves
To whom you dished out a cashless cacophony.
Wave flaccid flags flown at half mast
As conflict casualties mount
When baskets of mourning cast
A dark pall on leadership lists of skills to discount.
Despair not. Repair the flare
No longer impotent, no longer content
As venom fangs bare
Death diadems an bother bandanas for the discontent.
This or That, Vol 30 Poetry Contest
Edward Ibeh
As soon as my eyes cleared from the tears
I could see that his body and soul were long gone
He layed frozen in time
Lifeless, naked and sorry
Where the songbirds in his eyes
Lost forever in the morning storm
Still the sun peaked thru our bedroom
It's long rays covering the bed
Comforting, consoling and calling
And lending its hand in my time of need
In the background I could hear and feel the doom
As the ominous sound of the ambulance closed in
Only to confirm what I already knew
Where this validation tore at my heart
And this punctuation and pronouncement
Bringing a flood of unstoppable tears
For this was real
And a defining moment and turn in my life
From that point on
My mind was etched in tears
Where the montages of my husband's death played on
To his past voice whispering and echoing in my head
"Honey I had to leave on the night of a full moon"
It resonated, etching it's way in large block letters
For the mourning, and that morning never ended
I kept his secret seventeen years later
... now in the depths of a grieving heart
And in my eyes, where the black ravens keep multiplying