Long Protecting(a) Poems
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The way to a girls heart
seems to be sour candy?
She loves the way it puckers her lips.
She get's talkative, "as if", a Sleeping Beauty.
Awakened by gumdrop of her seize kiss.
She is a slave to the sassy
kicked up notch of flavor rainbow hyper-twitch.
You are a slave to having treats on hand
and obey her every bossy command.
Her eyes light up, ignited in an electric glee,
Unleashing her inner child with a key.
With every tangy explosion,
comes a remembered idea or notion.
It's as if the world around her fades,
and all that's left is the zesty escapade.
The way to her heart may be simple and sweet,
though the power to move her
cannot be beat.
For true happiness lies in the simplest of things,
Like rewards and laughter and all the joy
that they bring.
So don't underestimate the power of a treat,
it can awaken a heart and make it seat next to you,
in solidarity.
Although, when she crashes, she may get grumpy, then go to sleep.
But just look at that lil candy dream !
For in her mind, she'll roam free,
a girl again in a world of candy and sugary glee, safety and family things of memory.
In that moment, you'll see her soul,
Unencumbered by worry,
a rare sight to behold, let alone coury.
So when you give her a piece of candy,
you're not just giving her something bland, savvy?
You're giving her a moment to escape,
and yourself too,
vicariously.
To find joy and happiness,
and reshape that spirit,
as she salivates upon it,
intraveneously?
Like a Viking Maiden, or Dragon
protecting a treasure in a cave.
A cat guarding it's dish with claws entrenched,
growling, stay away.
"You shall not pass" and "Eye Of Sauron" mixed in a frightening way.
"Taste the rainbow of my fruity fu****wrath",
she might say.
Though skittles may be small and sourly-sweet,
an insignificality.
A token holds the power to make a heart
skip a portaled beat.
For in that moment, she feels alive and free,
all thanks to that simple little treat,
given lovingly, in a cheer to her memories.
Reminders, hopeful omens
and thoughtfulness's zing.
Doorways to the finer things.
The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”
There was a knight with locks that were golden
Protecting a kingdom in threat of folding
King and his trusting mighty duck
Caring only for the almighty buck
From the north
Sharks were present for what it was worth
Putting on stage predators telling them to go forth
Until one day in a foggy dream
A mariner let out a scream
There was a gigantic Kraken
Started attacking
With only eleven on board
Holding things on shore
Trying not the rip the chord
Apparently the King’s mighty duck
Got wind about the maritime bad luck
Issuing a statement through a loud quack
How the fisherman got whacked
Upon pondering the news
King knew what to do
Take the singing predator out on a date
Make them lyrical bait
Seasoned to perfection
No reason for a rejection
Sending the sharks in
From the tank where they are projected to win
Sticking out their deadly fin
Somewhere in the desert the knight with golden locks
Was watching the clock
When a peasant came by
Noticing the golden lock good looking guy
Walking her coyote companion
Ran in
To each other
Both needing a lover
Smiling a grin
Knight with the golden locks was getting ready to sin
When a quack was heard
King’s message distributed from his trusting swimming bird
“What do you mean Kraken is alive
Wasn’t the sea hawks patrolling the sky
I must go and be the 12th man
Take a warrior stand”
Off the knight with the golden locks went into battle
Easy corralling the aqua monster like it was cattle
In the end he steamed Kraken real good
Delicious sea food
Understood
Glazed with special oils
Before wrapped in foil
Canucks placed at its side
Decorating the meal that was worth a tasty try
When the knight with golden locks came home
There was a call on his phone
From the peasant girl asking “are you all alone?”
Meeting halfway
Wedding ring proposing lifelong stays
As for the Kraken
Needed to receive backing
Sharks and predators answered the request
Wanting the knight with golden locks to be put to another test
The Labradoodle
It’s clear that the scamp is a Poodle
By its frolicsome dabble and doodle
But add a big part
Of the Labrador’s heart
And you’ve got the whole kit and caboodle
The Labrador Retriever (Lab)
The Lab a friend gave to his daughter
Had a chronic aversion to water
He’d cling to the shore
Like a rug to the floor
To avoid making waves like he oughter
The Lagotto Romagnolo
It caused quite a local kerfuffle
When he called a potato a truffle*
By the time it was done
A committee of one
Went and cancelled his license to snuffle
(*known for their skill at finding truffles)
The Leonberger
There are dogs that are bigger than these
Like some Mastiffs and Great Pyrenees
But few are more stately
Or admired more greatly
For their grace and perpetual ease
The Lhasa Apso
Just repeat: Lhasa apso not ipso
That’s a facto: I’m sharing this tip so
You don’t make a flub
With the whole Lhasa Club
While they contemplate your membership so
The Maltese
I once knew a Maltese named Tawny
Who was quick and ill-tempered and scrawny
While protecting a crumb
Nearly took off my thumb
Now he sleeps with the fish in the Suwannee
The Mastiff
The Mastiff’s a glorious sight
With a name that exemplifies might
Now imagine this house
The size of a mouse
A “toy mastiff” just doesn’t sound right
The Mutt
A mutt may show up with a rat
Do some terrible things to your hat
But he’s happy for sure
Just to roll in manure
And so grateful that he’s not a cat
The Newfoundland (Newfie)
One day on the nearby horizon
He encountered an ornery bison*
And though it was large
The Newfie took charge
Mattered not what the difference in size in
The Norwegian Elkhound
Look honey, look what I found!
It’s an orphaned Norwegian elkhound!
He’ll be easy to raise
With some love and some praise
And a pasture that serves as a pound
Mum sat in her aromatic garden,
admiring its charm and grace.
It was a cold morning,
but mum never seemed to feel it any more.
Her eyes were tired, life's adversities had taken their toll,
yet the smallest things filled them with joy.
Like the perennial ivory lilies blossoming
among her loyal, royal forget-me-nots.
The tranquil scents of lilac lavender,
blooming among radiant Jerusalem sage,
always made her smile.
Her hands were wrinkly, but resilient,
despite years of hard work as a single mother.
Still strong enough to tend to her grandiose display
of ruby red, aureolin yellow and puce pink roses.
Mum always told me the thorns were like knights -
there to protect the rose's fragility.
That a woman is a man's most precious flower,
requiring tender care and appreciation.
Evergreen conifers parade along the perimeter of
my lovely mother's garden, like a colony of soldiers,
protecting a beautiful, yet delicate,
Japanese cherry blossom tree.
Mum always told me it reminded her about life,
how everything was temporary, just like its fragile buds,
that only blossomed in the spring and
how the lightest breeze blew them away.
Mum taught me so much and was my inspiration,
picked me up when I was defeated,
taught me that only in defeat do we learn.
When the world tried to change me,
taught me to accept myself,
to love myself before I could love others
and be true to who I am.
As I sat with mum admiring the beauty of the seeds sown,
melancholic tones flooded my emotions,
wondering how I would cope without her.
Was I selfish wishing to die before her,
so I would not have to mourn for her,
but it would be so heartbreaking
for her to mourn for me.
My contemplation was interrupted by an outbreak of rain.
Mother simply smiled and said:
"Rain is mercy from God, my son."
Written 26 February 2016
Somewhere in the distant hill
lies a dilapidated old house that might give one chill
An old gentleman and his lady fare
were loners of life because they were the only ones there
Protecting a little child-teen of 13
A lonely nerd or nebbish boy who only dreamed
to make friends with the outside but his inner self hide
the longings of a boy who was too bashful to confide
his parents took him from school because his
school-mates called him an Ugly and a Fool
Together,as three,they lived in this mansion ennui
The tales that can be told of this existence that
has kept them a Dead and one Cold
The Father took him Fishing(out back Yard there is a Hole)
to catch a big one-in their imagination mind-it is only a small peace
that both of them could ever find
Peri-Gonvre,the lad's name..that his school mates mocked LAME
All through the house,a child's laughter that scares away the most
disgusting cat or mouse
Both hands,left and right,has only two fingers each,that God made right
The attic above the 2nd story hall can only fit him because it is
5 inches too small(The Father-KinMen,designed it to be as confining as
the fireplace against the Stone Brick Wall)
Peri-Gonvre uses the room for his 'scape,from the island New England
that wanted to rape:the very spirit and the life of this like
sitting against the darkness,his eyes drifted far from the mortal Pike
SILVIA the feline little kitten coddled up next to him in this lonely Prison
She is the only cat to be allowed,
brighten up his disposition(disperse that iluminnescent Black Cloud)
Angel of the nightly SKY is first to shine upon the loneliness Guy
END OF PART 1
*It was only a couple of years,
*That I was there with you,
*Holding your love in my arms,
*And drying your eyes of the tears.
*But the memories I have of that time,
*Are how your first words made this new father cry,
*And how watching you take,
*Your very first step,
*Not when i'm dead will I even forget.
*And that night as we lay just to rest,
*I couldn't believe what you just did next,
*As you lay silently gazing deep into my eyes,
*DAD DAD DAD DAD,
*Was your most brilliant surprise.
*Now as soon as you knew,
*This new thing you could do,
*You said it over and over,
*Like the endless waves of the tide.
*But to fall,
*You would fall asleep,
*Fighting off your heavy eyes,
*While never knowing how you left me,
*So amazed by your surprise.
*But those days they’re long and gone,
*And how quickly it comes,
*The old school yard,
*And how getting a hug,
*Has become bloody hard.
*But everyone once will regret,
*Something they have done,
*Like protecting a life,
*But and or leaving one.
*But not when i'm dead will I ever forget,
*Watching my girl,
*Take her very first step,
*Nor the words that she said,
*One night as we lay just to rest,
*DAD DAD DAD DAD,
*And you said it over and over again.
*You’re my little girl no matter the age,
*You’re my little girl and that'll not change,
*I'm your Father and Friend- Protector and Guide,
*I will teach you the vision I've seen through these eyes,
*And how easy mistakes and regrets are to find.
*You’re my little girl and please don’t forget.
*DAD DAD DAD DAD!!,
*Were the very first words,
*That you ever said..
Form:
"The human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed. The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, whose charm were broken if revealed." Charlotte Bronte
Sometimes I've been forced to wear a mask
to escape from people who continue to ask,
"I know you're keeping secrets. I can tell."
Relentlessly, they harp, push and compel.
With accusing fingers pointed, they attack
but I turn and walk away, never looking back
Though none of their business, they're dying
to learn the secrets I know, and keep denying.
I'll never give away confidences I've been told.
It's a burden that I bear, a responsibility I hold.
Gossips try to discover what I keep concealed,
but disclosures made to me will not be revealed.
Protecting a secret is a promise that once made
must be guarded or risk a friend being betrayed.
I have my own secrets that shouldn’t be disclosed.
It's better they stay buried and never be exposed.
Secrets live in the shadowed corners of my mind,
in dark depths they swim, where no one can find.
What's been entrusted to me, I've vowed to keep.
I'm a prisoner of silence, causing no one to weep.
November 2, 2021
"S" Contest
Hosted by Constance La France
The police badge I wore shone so bright
On the day I graduated it felt so right
For the uniform was what I wanted for me
But there were times when there was a price for it you see
And the badge lay heavy on my chest
There was an Easter when a family counted the cost
After a young man drove his car into a pole and was lost
I remember it all as it was not a pretty sight
With his mother’s anguished cry that split the night
And the badge lay heavy on my chest
There was the little girl with her hair in pigtails
Who ran into next door crying about what her story entails
For her step father had his way in the house in the tree
But the mother sided with the father and didn’t agree
And the badge lay heavy on my chest
The hardest of all was when losing mates
Passing from their lives on duty in terrible fates
One died protecting a woman on bus interchange ground
And one as a speedie who died by a drunk running him down
And the badge lay heavy on my chest
So now all those times have long passed on
And I’ve put down the badge as my time has now gone
But these are the things I remember still
When these things come to mind as in my mind down I drill
And the badge still lies heavy on my chest.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Slowly painfully however we have begun the process.
I still wear similar boots at times, but entirely different.
Now instead of protecting a republic they safeguard the things that my previous
boots required me to sacrifice.
Kept me away from and unknowing of.
These new boots don’t run on a moment’s notice to lands far and away.
Yet to a stranger place very much unknown to me.
A place called home. A place called civilian life.
A place where for the first time instead of leading others treasures into harm’s way.
They lead my treasures to the park or yard for a romp in the sandbox.
Always vigilant for a portion of the old boots remain.
Although the new boots need to be broken in. With time that will happen.
I will suffer pains while I adjust from my previous boots.
So now I move forward slightly limping but with a smile on my face. Goodbye my old
friends I must let you go.
For my new boots fit me fine.
Now I must help my children make their own boots from all I have learned from the
old and all I have to learn from the new.
submission for next issue of Mamalode
Topic letting go