Long Relished Poems
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Soul, Soul, where art thee?
I lie sleepeth, in the halls of
the underworld, as my spirit
roam freely, reincarnating
as different beings, going
in and out of existence.
When the flower of life,
gives life, my soul awakens
from a deep rooted sleep.
As I travel down the vine,
matter begins to shape
and mold me, as
a body awaits for my return.
Bright lights is all I can see,
speaking to myself, where art thy?
So many unfamiliar faces.
I instantly knew, my
pureness will become perverted.
As my soul, grew within this body,
so, did an ego.
It hijacked my soul and bound it.
I became a doublemint twin.
Light and darkness,
which grew, a duality, a form
and an emotional side
of me. Unable to balance
the equilibrium, darkness
became the master
over my emotions.
The uncharted side of me
wept in sorrows, while
the egotistical side of me
relished every moment of it.
As I wept, more and more
of me became,
revealed to me, which
was my true self in light form.
Radiating, faster than
the atoms that were firing
within my own brain.
Erupting, flaming, kindling
is what sparked my emotions
to weigh the scales of my freedom,
as my emotions became motion
it dissipated into one,
amalgamating with the ether.
^she_
^she_ had a love/hate relationship with food
she only fed with her eyes,
i was a sparkless firecracker
and spoke English like i hated it.
not the least bit compatible
in any department
at any hour on any menu
she wouldn't even drink the water.
I would slip through the cracks
should she stop staring at me
up and down her beautiful 'it is'
she lit an incense and i was ignited.
i offered up an apple
a yellow delicious manifested
i peeled it for her
but she wouldn't taste it.
i laid eyes on her lips
kissed with dark secrets
an awakening of insects
with equal day and night.
She ate me with her eyes
clear, bright, ripe
it rained on the fruit
and i took a bite.
I spoke to the grain in her ear
i had so much to say
succulent was my speech
She took it all in.
potash, stolen, honey and rye
sup the festal dish don't cry
she had parted the thin line
between a want and it's fill.
I lapsed into that petri-dish
pierced by her green staring
Her warm glassy ogling
all up and down my countenance.
Nourished of palate perception
She relished on her diet.
I indulged as her entrée
feasting her with my gaze.
It would take a while
like a gala supper without wine.
^she_ would have no seconds
no weakness for flavor of the same.
well fed and fed up
she checked me out
her unusual hunger
gave me best regards
No repeats nor duplicates since
such foodstuff is most uncommon
Her daily bread was nurtured
with the edibles of my mind.
The End.
For Vera, Leanna and Leslie
Today in church I was rapt as I listened to the words of the pastor,
As she spoke about the death and glorious resurrection of the Master!
But I must confess that my mind ran amok and wandered,
As I reminisced about Easters past upon which I pondered.
I recalled Easters of yore when our little girls were small.
How they anticipated the Easter Bunny, ready to have a ball!
Their mother, Vera, was an extremely talented seamstress,
Who made for each of them a gorgeous lacy smock and dress!
She insisted that they have new shoes, gloves and fancy bonnet,
Trimmed with lots of lace and colorful flowers upon it!
Vera wore an outfit including new shoes and hat with dressy flora,
And I of course had to wear a suit and tie and a ridiculous fedora!
Off we marched to church and Sunday School in our fine attire,
To hear the awesome Easter Story and a cantata by the choir.
After, a repast was prepared by Vera with ham and sweet pertaters,
With other tasty fixin's including a salad of garden-fresh termaters!
The girls relished the chocolate bunnies and eggs that they found!
I recall so many Easters with my family when joy would abound!
Fast forward to today when the girls from home have flown,
As they carry on those traditions with families of their own.
Alas, we lost our dear Vera this past July but I have this one consolation;
Today she celebrated Easter with CHRIST HIMSELF in great jubilation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Amazing Grace in dirge parade.
A coffin carried with great esteem.
Bright and cheery orange sweater,
now enclosed, forever. She’s laid
to rest in an open nest, enclosed
in dour cement. Her body old,
well truthfully dead, for age no longer
matters. Arrives in heaven, composed.
Her fingers no longer gnarled, out
of her stingy wheelchair, fruitful hair,
no need for a nurse or a nightlight.
Out of the grave with a Hallelujah shout.
Truth be told, saints don’t remain -
She blinks, to her soul’s rest - in eternity.
The truth, the whole truth revealed
and relished in her Savior’s domain.
The flesh you’ll find - her body’s in the ground.
We, that live, must be able to dig up remains
to be brought to the edge, to feel the loss.
Lincoln’s son bared his dad - never a sound
did the president breathe - dead bones,
life’s rickety-rack can only be an act of God.
Our faith in inhale, exhale, and lungs and heart.
The Creator of all - life and death he owns.
Her bright and cheery orange sweater, rosary
twisted round her fingers in an open coffin,
the loud outburst of grief from her son’s lips,
are all the sights and sounds of lang syne poetry.
6/2/2022
(thus, I revel to reveal
more'n juiced poppycock
perhaps casting impression,
I hale from Mars,
thus this wordsmith
willfully exposes emotional scars.)
Fear of challenging myself,
and/or lack of where
with all to confront
psychological
(dis) comfort zones,
that passivity did veer
really inadvertently,
currently indirectly,
galvanically charged
as deaf fence sieve barrier
and hermetically, inherently
sealed (unclear)
to me how to dispatch
i.e. (muster)
courage to tear
down invisible
barricade shuttering
acute (oblique striated
mein kampf existence),
thee dulled eyes
didst blankly stare,
ring just beyond
the impaled psyche
liberation i.e. freedom rare
rung only plaintively relished
by this self condemned,
cuz aye felt
scared (to death) living,
which may seem *****
nearly equivalent
being solitarily confined,
with absolute zero chance
(on broken wing or prayer)
life sentence,
would NEVER be commuted,
asper this outlier,
and/or less
prospect for parole
never came near
well nigh since birth
(as this popping
creaking, and crack
ling body electric
inexorably approaches
LX orbitz
around Earth) mere
lee experienced his existence,
not worth
any king to leer
not even worth
Doppelganger to jeer
only the hollow echo strictly
I can only hear
as an aging toothless
grimacing crookedly
raggedy man doth glare
from cracked mirror,
twill bid fare
well to optimism - endear
himself to forfeit any dare
ring do only
remaining holed up
sitting against
a hard backed chair
reflecting on bleakly obtuse
countless unmet dreams bare
heft desolate freight tinned woes
only thru limply
lame poetry I can air.
It feels kind of like someone gave me a drug,
mixed for the purpose of stamping out love.
Slipped like a Mickey when I was away.
Slammed down the hatch and now all I can say
is, "I don't know why I feel nothing at all."
Head like a hammer straight into the wall.
Black coat of tar dripping straight from my heart.
Struggle for breath while still acting the part.
Things that I’ve relished no longer seem fun.
Trapped in a cycle but still on the run.
Live for a purpose without any goals.
Watching it slip away as I get old.
Talks with myself and with all who will hear.
None seem to understand and so I fear,
I'm destined to fall, then perhaps they will learn
I was next in line… and 'twas simply my turn.
On one stormy December eve,
In dusks quickly waning light,
A biting wind began to weave,
A tapestry of sleet and flakes of white,
A frigid blanket for this winter night.
Safely ensconced in her warm abode,
An elderly widow dreamed,
Of another night so long ago,
Though only a fortnight it seemed,
With a similar weathered theme.
Winter unleashed her fury that long ago night,
The wind a howling banshee.
But her one true love held her so tight,
Rendering her heart carefree,
His love her security.
A glowing fire crackled and popped,
As her husband held her in his arms.
His passionate kisses were not to be stopped;
She could never resist his charms.
How she relished those nights in his arms.
She blushed like a girl as she recalled that night,
Remembering the love that they had made.
Their love for each other had been pure delight,
Destined to never fade.
His devotion would not ever be swayed.
Closing her eyes she let the memories flow,
Scenes from a lifetime of love.
With a smile and a sigh her spirit let go,
And soared on the wings of a dove,
To join her beloved up above.
12/15/13
For Francine's A Winter's Night English Quintain
contest 10th place
Oh, dear Cot, you have supported me steady
From my days of infancy to senility
All through life you are my close buddy,
In unrest, it is in you I seek tranquillity.
Sprawling on your chest, to what all places I wander
To dream’s never- never land where I gleefully meander
Whenever I long for a relaxing nap
Like a host, you wait for me with all hospitality
When darkness descends, invariably I come to your lap
And you wilfully extend your warm cordiality
You are a close companion and a loving friend
I cannot tell, with you, how much of my time I spend
Both in the mundane regularity of daily life
And in sickness and ill health, you are dearly cherished
After a day’s tedious toil, you give me instant relief
Thus, in umpteen ways, your presence is greatly relished.
Of all other furniture that make a house a home
You are the most valued in your quadruped form
March.4. 2023
~ Placed Second~
Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Jeff Kyser
Only the very young & very beautiful can be so aloof
Hanging out with the boys all swagger & poise
Our new dashing wannabe tyro is ample proof
(coined by Tom with aplomb.. purloined by me)
Mused Caribbean calypso cool fused with well private school
Cherished plush rhapsodies segue with relished lush melodies
Lips licks fancy flicks & tricks picnics phoenix from the Ashes
Remedies for believers lulled by lullabies from lyrical levers
Poetic shapes lacy lines never frenetic balletic aesthetic
The boundary rope dope trope Jacob is our new hope
The computer says “YES” suitor for the future prophetic
Or down with the kids well Bethell’s the real deal rookie
Badgers hearts swell feels like proper Test cricket nookie
Tell his chilled southpaw drawer got more than Cookie
While other than Joe everyone else was playing hooky
Golden curls & olden twirls.. BET HELL for the bookie
Reflecting its neighbourhood,
The lake water shone yellow.
Resembling a synchronisation of saturation
With the setting sun.
Seizing green colour of the grasses
The sun painted them gold.
Engrossed gazing pines dance spectacularly,
Only awakened with sparrows' chirps,
And Robins' melodious songs.
Perched on the edge of a dead tree,
Abrupt thoughts hovered my consciousness.
Despite a gust, the dead tree stayed firm.
Nighbours swayed, relished,
Departing sun of the beautiful evening.
It rests and rests....
The landscape mirrored delight,
It grieved its own death.
Incompetent to sense, the scorching sun,
The white sheet of snow, dusk and dawn.
It rests and rests....
Observed the ambience twice .
No mournings! no sorrow!
Nothing ceased their pace.
Infact , they moved on.
It rests and rests....