Long Put to death Poems
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Earth Eulogy
By Mark D. Stucky
She was a good planet,
put to death in her prime
by a pandemic of people.
Homo-sapiens was a disease
with mutating and metastasizing
technological and industrial pus,
emitting environmental toxins,
exterminating flora and fauna,
until the infection’s surge
triggered its own extinction.
Vaccines of ecological education
and environmental regulations
could not overpower
the pathogen’s resistance.
When the global viral load
caused ever-rising fever,
Earth suffered convulsions
and, finally, Gaian coma.
Other sentient souls
amidst the starry galactic mist
will surely miss you very much.
Rest in peace, dear Earth.
(Image by Gerd Altmann on Pixabay.com.)
I WAS TOLD I COULDN'T,
AND SO I DID.
DEFYING AUTHORITIES,
SINCE I WAS A KID.
I DELIBERATELY WROTE THIS,
USING ALL CAPS.
IT WAS THE NORM,
BEFORE THE CREATION OF MAPS.
THE CAVE MAN LEFT,
BEHIND A TRAIL.
WITH SIMPLE DRAWINGS,
HE TOLD US A TALE.
NO ONE SAID,
IT WAS RIGHT OR WRONG.
THE STORIES WERE LOST
AND MEMORIES GONE.
THINKERS WERE BORN
AND WERE MISUNDERSTOOD.
PUT TO DEATH,
BECAUSE AUTHORITIES COULD.
THOUGHTS WERE WRITTEN
AND THEN DESTROYED.
LEAVING BEHIND,
AN EMPTY VOID.
WHEN PUNCTUATION,
CAME AROUND.
WHAT WAS BEFORE,
WAS BURNT TO THE GROUND.
I PAINTED THIS PICTURE,
USING ALL CAPS.
DON'T DESTROY IT,
AND TARNISH MY PAST.
I HAVE THE AUTHORITY,
AS A HUMAN BEING.
TO CREATE IN MY MIND,
JUST WHAT YOU ARE SEEING.
A dead man and newspapers
It was an extremely cold winter in 1947 the country was exhausted
and the German army who did construction work, building new roads
repairing the old ones had kept many civilians in employment
But the army had surrendered and taken the train home
Mother was not one sitting still; she secured two newspaper rounds
one in the morning and one in the afternoon
I was her helper, more I think, so she could keep an eye on me
In a courtyard, I saw a man sitting on the steps by the entrance
of a house, he sat very still and had ice on his eyebrows and lips
I called my mother, and she said the man had frozen to death, left to
find a shop with a phone (not many people had phones back then)
to ring the police.
The law rang the doorbell a woman opened up; the law said:
“Do you know this man?” She looks at the body and screams
She explains, “he came home drunk; I wouldn’t let him in until
he sobered up.” Well, one officer said he was sober now they
carried the frozen man, still in a sitting position, into the van.
As I didn’t hear the conversation, I made it up.
Why didn’t they put the man by the fireside so. he could thaw
and come back to life? No mother said his heart froze;
the soul had left his body; what is the soul do? I have one.
Yes, you have, like when you tell me lies but insist it is true
when you go to bed, a voice tells, you lied, you can ignore
this voice, but if you do, the inner voice will harden and you
will end up like the drunken man and freeze to death
We’re not a religious household, but mother believed Jesus
was the first socialist who took on the Jews and was put to death
What do I know? She also said Santa Claus was an errand boy
for capitalism making us poorer by buying things not needed.
Once, chained was I by failure grip
Finding hard to move on indeed
As frustration hindered my trip
Till the Saviour’s love had me freed.
Once, my heart wallowed in guilt’s pit
Seeking real joy with sweet peace gain…
I thank God for His pardon writ
Cleansing, healing sins’ grievous pain.
Refrain:
Once, transgression slain, so worthless
I was nothing, condemned, defiled…
Yet, once*… Christ gave me life, priceless
Now, once and for all, I’m His child.
Once defeated, wantonly lost
Drowned in self-pity’s misery
I cleaved to the Lord for grace-post
Granting me joyous victory.
Once, doubts crushed my despondent soul
tormenting me with falsehood’s dart…
Now, I’m soaring toward truth-pole
Through the wings of faith rampart.
Refrain:
Once, transgression slain, so worthless
I was nothing, condemned, defiled…
Yet, once… Christ gave me life, priceless
Now, once and for all, I’m His child.
“1Peter 3:18 For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit.”
September 5, 2020
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol 22 - Lyric 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 9/24/2020.
Death is to be my great enemy
For in living I am to be
The friend of life, and put to death
That force that longs to steal my breath—
Away! — away that hallowed hollow grave
My ally, the stone that bears my name
The one, oh would that I could fill
That hole, that bowl of earth
To swallow me down into his bowels.
Let me dive down deep
Into subterranean ground to hide
And put me down to eternal sleep
Away— from earth I’ll say my sweet goodbyes
Goodnight black world, I say, I sink
Into death’s bed with me to keep
Covered in dirt to die.
But there is one Greater
Who holds my precious name
Cradled in His holy core
On mercy’s heart engraved
My soul that pines for quiet death
By Him is called to life again
Came He to me, not I to Him
And covered up my guilty shame
Then said He, so tenderly to me
“With nail-pierced hands I took the blame
And cast unholy death down to your grave.”
There in my place, his feeble frame
That friend I thought I had.
Now I know that I shall live
In my Lord’s house eternally
Bathed in no reflected glory
But washed in light directly
I see life in death no more
But only my God’s love for me.
Is that enough
proof to show you that you’re beautiful inside and out?
How can I show you that I’m captivated by my love towards you?
How can I prove to you that you’re a great deal?
How can I wipe away your tears – twinkling blue?
How can I express how lovely you look? – It’s true
I’m being serious and straightforward definitely –
our love is pure and so much more…
our love will endure forevermore…
our love is real and it’s a splendid deal…
our love is unreal…our love is made of steel…
Our Love is oh so surreal
You melt my anguish away…
Our love can heal a broken heart
You nurture me in the month of May
You throw away winter’s dismay
Our Love burns on…and its warmth shrouds us with love
Our love takes wing…like a divine, elegant dove
Adoring fruitful flight –
What a sight…what a delight
Put to death the heartless night
And fight the good fight
As my mother would say
every now and then
she always turned the night to day
But, she’s not here with me again
Why would she not visit me in the month of May?
Didn't she promise that she would give me a call today?
Our love’s a sturdy, majestic ship,
Revealing its glory and producing fellowship
Our love sprouts with everlasting grace and ecstasy
A zealous grace that won’t sink down to the bottomless sea
Put a ring on your finger and soak in my mournful, ravishing rain
Love me in a flattering, relishing way
I place a vase of ferns and daisies on your window pane
I send you my love as I begin my journey today
I pray to God that the dawn will blossom
In the month of May,
Pushing away the doubtful, dismal clouds…
making me feel numb
Making me drink in regret and disarray…
There was a dreary blip in my life
I feared two depressing outcomes
The first, hell
I separate myself from societal pressures
I accept who I am
I let go of all that abuse that has kept me who I was
I let go of hiding behind a hundred carefully tailored masks
Just so one may approve of me
But in return
I risk burning in depths of hell for eternity
And all the days of my life are spent regretting
That fateful decision
That is scary
So scary
The latter, suppression and hell combined
I continue to clothe myself in lies
To satisfy society
I refrain from feminity
I continue to practice speaking, clothing and loving in a way that does not suit me
I continue to feel uncomfortable in my own body
And perhaps I still burn in the depths of hell for hiding my true self
For lying to so many when they ask who I am
I finally made my decision
I finally feel right
No longer must I lie and deceit my identity
And as I ask God to cure me of all my evils
I realize he has delivered
I finally am happy and free
And I speak to my pastor
Who I very well know may call me a sinner
I have been called slurs, to be put to death, to be put in camps, unloved, mentally ill, a crime
But my friends I thank the Lord for his guidance and truth
For amongst all these problems
I shout from the mountaintops
My Church and faith are not one of them
Form:
How do I proclaim the Jewel of Jesus;
I’m just a fool. The words delight
and disappear. How does one praise
the holy one? He’s too much for words.
I’m not worthy to lift him up in song;
I sing along with those duly gifted.
The wonder of lyrics with such treasures:
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Let highborn seraphs tune the lyre,
and as they tune it, fall;
I’ll fly away, oh glory, I’ll fly away…
How do I proclaim the Jewel of Jesus;
I’m just a fool, a fool who leans
on scripture and gleams truths.
My biblical articulation is mute;
how do you describe eternity, infinity,
true love? In simplicity, perhaps.
He was put to death by sinners,
buried and three days later
breathed forevermore; we’ve
been invited - we choose
our afterlife. Do you really
want to obtain the most precious
jewel ever offered? You can only
embrace, you can’t give Him away.
Ruby-red, sapphire-bruised, pale-opal…
Fiery-garnet eyes, many crowns on his head…
I’m just a fool to try, but I must try
to put Jesus in a human box -
can we even describe how breathless
we will be when we see divinity?
(This is a fictional poem)
I'm like Doctor Frankenstein because I'm trying to create life.
I've been collecting women's body parts and now I'm building myself a wife.
She has a body like Pamela Anderson's but she has the brain of someone who's
a bore.
I gave her the brain of Al Gore.
I just finished putting her together and she's opening her eyes.
She's screaming because I'm ugly and I know that I'm despised.
She said she could find sexier guys at a Bill Gate's look alike contest.
I can tell by her behavior that she's not impressed.
I just gave her two choices, marry me or be put to death.
The ##### just drank some poison and killed herself.
Form:
Love
Life
Journey
Lead by God
We are all the same
It is never too late to change
He gave us the B-attitudes by which we’re to live
For He suffered by being put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit
By: Eve Roper
3/13/2015
Syllables Per Line: 9 0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21
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