Long Repaid Poems
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As I did gaze upon her for the first time as she labored in small shop in what appeared to be
a hole in a wall that open into this place where she did work all day. Almaz was an Ethiopian
beauty with gorges reddish color hair which was filled with big curly locks that seem to flow
into an endless chasm of never ending twist and turns, with a smile that seem to light up that
tiny little room. A rare beauty was she to behold, elegant yet graceful and humble in her
soul…as I did watch her as she did strategically place each flower by hand one by one and
with each gentile twist or turn of her soft golden tone skin colored hands until a work of art
was form inside of each vase that they did adorn.
Sometimes the vases were made of glass or maybe of some type of fine cultivated stone …
but each one that was made to become a work of art made to express someone else’s
declared love or concern for a love of family member or even the lost of an unrequited love
and she did do her best to express their thoughts with the arrangement made from the heart.
With her beautiful brown eye’s that seem to tell a story of a pain and a deep love for her
family… that she displayed with each piece of work that she did make. With each day of hard
work in this small shop where she toiled all day in her endless attempt to repay her family
for a debt that she so desperately wanted to repay…for it was the love of her father that had
brought Almaz the flower arranger to this place.
So many people do take the love of their family for granted, but… no not this lady…no not
this lady…no not her ever, not even for a second in a day. Almaz made the flowers arrange
all day, all for a debt of love that she wanted to repay. Little did she know that it was already
repaid in full… with a father’s silent pray of love to see his daughter in a place where her
dreams could blossom in the promise land, were no Kings are crowned or Queens ruled, but
in this place of commoners were freedom was born to rule. Were even the poorest of men
could rise to the highest office in the land. Truly your father has completed his arrangement
in the vase with the most beautiful flower that he could find to place it in for the whole world
to see, Almaz you are that flower that completes his arrangement.
She sat beside the waterfall
where gushing thoughts cascade,
like tears that flowed along her cheeks,
her heart set to invade.
He left alone for pastures new.
A scribbled note in haste
he wrote then fled, as cowards do,
her heart a barren waste.
A lightning bolt out of the blue
that pierced her heart; she bled.
Much later on the ache still hurt;
her feeble wings unspread.
She dared not heed the tumbling sound
as water crashed on rocks.
How fit to let death end the pain!
She started down the walk.
But just before the water’s edge
a voice called out, “Be Ware!
The road you walk is treacherous;
for God’s sake, stand right there!”
He turned her round, and saw her face
spill tears upon her gown.
He whispered in her windswept hair
“One misstep and you’ll drown.”
“Please, let me go, you do not know
what burns here in my breast.
I need to douse these flames and find
my sweet eternal rest.”
She struggled then against his arms,
the longed for end so near,
and yet he held with all his might,
spoke words to still her fear.
And when all limp she leaned on him,
this man she did not know,
he soothed her as he said these words:
“I will not let you go.”
Drained of resolve she let him lead
from rock to lush verdure,
as reassurance kindled trust,
his hand was firm, secure.
They sat beneath a shady tree.
Engrossed, they talked at length,
and in the process she revealed
his presence gave her strength.
He held her hands, looked in her eyes,
his heart worn on his sleeve
as they agreed to meet again
before she had to leave.
She touched his face, with gentle grace,
leaned in to kiss his cheek;
her lips just trembled there a while
enough to make him weak.
“You’ve saved my life, and now I owe
the greatest debt to you.
When next we meet, after we greet,
I’ll give you what’s your due.”
He smiled into her upturned eyes
and said these simple words:
“I’ve been repaid with sweetest kiss
my heart and soul you’ve stirred.
We’ll meet again, and when we do
you will forget the past
for then, my dear, I’ll make a vow
of love that’s sure to last.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian ~ Sept 2019)
(A Callman Collaboration)
Look at the floor of heaven
Laid with patterns of bright gold
For us, they are but little orbs
But in his motion
Like angels, they sing
So many songs of harmony
To the souls of immortals
And while this muddy vesture of decay
Does gross in them
We mortals cannot hear it.
Hold your fortune for your bliss
A gentle scroll
A diamond ring
All gone
Loss upon loss
Life upon life
Death upon death
Pain upon pain
A man of the people
The villainy the beasts taught him
That he executed
Until things fell apart
Judge him not
And mourn him as a legend
Chinualumogu!
For whose sake
The Arrow of the gods granted justice.
Christopher Okigbo called them beasts
David Diop called them vultures
For me
They were weeds on our soil
Colonial masters
Who awakened our sleeping lions
Achebe threw the bomb
And died before it exploded
This cooled his friends
And awakened his enemies
They laughed at his losses
And scorned all his gains
He sought no revenge
Yet his silence scrapped all nations
Thwarted their bargains
And with two heads of fools
He repaid them for one
And then There was a Country
He chose not what many men desired
And rejected the barbarous multitude;
Crystallized the inferiority complex
And fought back to back
For Africa.
No ill luck stirred at first
No tears but of our shedding
No sighs but our breathing
Various creditors sprang
Enemies arose
Yet he'd give up nothing for the wilderness of monkeys
Nor for the generation of wolves
An ambassador of love rarely seen
His pleas were for the taunted and corrupt
And with his graciously seasoned works
He obscured the shows of evil
What damned error!
But some superior would bless and approve it with a text
Hiding the grossness with faint ornaments.
Look on beauty
And you shall see
It is purchased on the weight
Often have you been told
That all that glitters is not gold
Farewell, the hope of Africa
For now, your suit is cold
We love and miss you
But our prayers with you shall be
Oh, Lord!
Arise and await
For his gentle spirit
Unto you dear God
Commits itself to be directed
The Beautyful ones are indeed not yet born
But the born indeed are most beautifully precious
Adieu Albert!
America's had lots of heroes through the years
Helping the world overcome many fears
Humankind hasn't always been kind
Look closely at history, see what you find
Our founders succeeded and failed many ways
People of color not treated fairly those early days
Three fifths a human is a void left incomplete
An error future generations destined to repeat
Indigenous people's abuse not a matter of pride
Devastation of natives a story history did hide
The Iroquois Confederacy gave us our republic's design
Its novel concept: states and nation's powers align
All of which helped founders form this great nation
We repaid this gift by invoking near annihilation
The Statue of Liberty invited all to come in
Remember our promise once again can begin
Supremacy, Eugenics, Ethnic biases towards the other
Can result in policies separating a child from a mother
In the last great war the Japanese here were incarcerated
Their concentration camps long since have been eliminated
Still the attitudes of ethnic discrimination persist
We always fall prey to what we resist
Much that hurts you is what you don't know
Amazing how deep "Bigoted Suffrage Suppression" did go
All minorities' suffering here has been vast
Here's how it plays out in the recent past:
1920: Women first get to vote
1924: Native Americans first get to vote
1943: Chinese citizens first get to vote
1946: Asian Indian citizens first get to vote
1950: Asian native born first get to vote
1952: Japanese citizens first get to vote
1965: African Americans first get to vote
Bigotry is deeper and bigger than you knew
Power and domination over others does not make right
Today, we must deal with all minorities' plight
It's our nation's unrealized promise that all will be free
Our union depends on the promise that we all can be
Created equal is what makes us all as one
When we get there as a nation, our work will be done
Every great society has dark secrets untoward
Looking back helps us see our way forward
This is why truth always makes a difference
Lost civilization's ethics is their lasting evidence
America's still young as history does show
Compassion and integrity will light where we go
Stillness feels deep here in these halls;
Silent vistas offer relief;
Death brings sure sleep at curtain call;
Cold agendas in grief's sad brief.
Long passageways and rows and rows;
Lonely sailings to unknown shores;
The dead don't say what yonder grows;
We the living wish we knew more.
Our visit here to greet the dead,
To pray for souls to rest in peace;
Let kinship steer fate's sure parade;
We feel the hold, the dead at ease.
Each niche a tale of life now flown;
Each face once walked this earthly plain;
Now silence trails lost bygone moans;
Now stillness talks where no voice gains.
Memorial day for our lost kin;
A prayer fond, a mindset still;
Whispers now stay for peace within;
Stroll by this lawn, mourning hearts feel.
With soul and heart, talk to the dead;
We know they hear our inner voice;
Life circle parts beyond all dread;
Cycles endear sound grace and poise.
Brief tablets speak where words now fail;
Deeply attuned with wise intent,
Each mounts a peak beyond the veil:
Feel hint and tune frame lost content.
As shadows fall in the last light,
We take a stroll here first and last;
Live sweet and gall with new-found sight;
Life's on a roll in feast or fast.
The dead remind that life goes on;
The grim reaper awaits each soul;
Discern the find here and beyond;
Soon each sleeper will circle whole.
Sunlight now fails, winds of change blow;
Horizons pale, lost of sure breath;
Death's icy gale fills each hollow;
And thus soul sails to greet kind death!
Here by this route where hallways meet,
All thoughts and deeds return to rest;
Death is time-out for two-way street;
Each cycle seeds soul journey quest.
We take our time to simply dwell,
Observe and know time here is brief;
Heed love's fond chimes to live life well;
Then candle blows with joy not grief.
Now once again, we carry on
To weather all, to live our best
With poise laid plain, feel once upon
A time that call to feel love's quest.
Our prayers laid, our kinship made,
We take our leave in heartfelt calm;
Feel love repaid in succinct trade;
Forsake this grief with cheery psalm.
Leon Enriquez
28 Mar 2014
Singapore
(Dedication: For my late mother on her birthday
anniversary, born 28 March 1927.)
She sat beside the waterfall
where gushing thoughts cascade,
like tears that flowed along her cheeks,
her heart set to invade.
He left alone for pastures new.
A scribbled note in haste
he wrote then fled, as cowards do,
her heart a barren waste.
A lightning bolt out of the blue
that pierced her heart; she bled.
And even now the ache still hurts;
her feeble wings unspread.
She dared not heed the tumbling sound
as water crashed on rocks.
How fit to let death end the pain!
She started down the walk.
But just before the water’s edge
a voice called out, “Be Ware!
The road you walk is treacherous;
for God’s sake, stand right there!”
He turned her round, and saw her face
spill tears upon her gown.
He whispered in her windswept hair
“One misstep and you’ll drown.”
“Please, let me go, you do not know
what burns here in my breast.
I need to douse these flames and find
my sweet eternal rest.”
She struggled then against his arms,
the longed for end so near,
and yet he held with all his might,
spoke words to still her fear.
And when all limp she leaned on him,
this man she did not know,
he soothed her as he said these words:
“I will not let you go.”
Drained of resolve she let him lead
from rock to lush verdure;
as reassurance kindled trust
his hand was firm, secure.
They sat beneath a shady tree.
Engrossed, they talked at length,
and in the process she revealed
his presence gave her strength.
He held her hands, looked in her eyes,
his heart worn on his sleeve
as they agreed to meet again
before she had to leave.
She touched his face, with gentle grace,
leaned in to kiss his cheek;
her lips just trembled there a while
enough to make him weak.
“You’ve saved my life, and now I owe
the greatest debt to you.
When next we meet, after we greet,
I’ll give you what’s your due.”
He smiled into her upturned eyes
and said these simple words:
“I’ve been repaid with sweetest kiss
my heart and soul you’ve stirred.
We’ll meet again, and when we do
you will forget the past
for then, my dear, I’ll make a vow
of love that’s sure to last.”
no end to this neverending sentence...just a sour note and a few mad quotes from the afterlife
afterlife? more like ants in the afterbirth...once a mighty warrior now a worm...i slither and i squirm...
no fire and no heat just chained to this seat...forced to view the victims of violence from this man of misery
with eyes and ears open...not even a blink...with every scarred soul the lower i sink
the movie begins and the theater is dark...and i'm not alone...i can hear other dead dogs bark
these innocent faces turn insane just in seconds...i can feel their disease...turning blessings to curses
a sad symphony and a choir of chaos keep spewing their venomous verses
i once was the greatest but now i'm the worst
i just can't breaK FREE from these shackles and chains...i hear the word NEVER into eternity
the echoes of screams they just come back from the screen
now the skeletal masses are laughing at me
i ask for forgiveness 1000 times a day but my tormentors just laugh..."NOT A CHANCE"
graves of ghosts empty and they all come to me to thank me in person for just being me
no uniformed ugliness just brutality beasts...they all take their turn from the
a to the z
i cry out to God and he says, "IT'S TOO LATE"
i talk to the devil and he says, "you'll be free any day"
vengeance was mine now i'm getting slain...for all of my sins and my murderous ways
for attrocities all...from the small to the large...i turned good men to monsters and massacred love
i turned peaceful neighborhoods into ghetto battlefields
i broke apart happy families as they cried,moaned,and squealed
more than six million got sent to their makers with lead sleeping pills
i lived the devils deal...now repaid with revenge...i'm sad,seedy and sour...still no suicide syringe
like blasphemy on a binge i tore hideous holes in the fabric of time
yes to my children of darkness i made the demonic seem divine...i even claimed to turn water into wine
now truth and terror has me thirsty for some kind of a release
from this concentration camp i NEVER can leave
please just one tear from heaven can put me at ease
It is my belief that the amount of debt that I have incurred during my long journey thru this life can never be fully repaid by a mortal man such as me. How much can it be?
One debt that I owe that I can never adequately repay is the love and understanding of my cherished wife who has shared her life with me.
What amount can be assessed, matter not what the endeavor, matter not the task, this wife of mine is always there to assist, never complaining while shouldering more than her share of the load?
How do I know an amount to be levied or know what I owe for the four beautiful children that she bore and shepherd through their early life and seen them on their way?
I have nothing to pay to cover the debt of seeing these same children that I am proud to call my own, become strong productive members of our society now with children of their own.
What amount is now owing for the pleasure that I see as I watch how well these grandchildren have made a start on their own families, lives and careers as they move toward future years?
What amount do I owe for the gift of this life that has been given to me by the generations that have gone before, that allowed me to be born into this land of the free?
What is my share of the debt owing to the young men and women that serve in our military and fight and die for us each day as others have done before, yet thankfully I personally have never had to experience the horrors of a war?
What is the value of my place upon a land of plenty where in this life I have never known real hunger or lacked for medical care in my time of need or longed for just a spark of hope?
What do I owe for the sights that I see as I gaze at the mountains, rivers and the sea that spread out before us all as we travel across this land?
I know that these debts cannot be paid in mere monetary terms but only by showing my deep appreciation and a heartfelt “thank you” while explaining to all how much they all have meant to me?
Conveyance of this message hopefully may help to render full payment and hopefully settle the score. I can only hope that will be the case.
I
Cut clean through two tall black mountains,
A jagged metal river froths like rabies.
Raging between outcast boulders and spires
The blue-grey greatsword eternally grinding at stone.
The footpath worn through and ground in,
Etched into the cliffs over centuries,
Standing testament to humanity’s trials;
Written upon the precipice with bones.
II
My footsteps echoed over the muddy grey shale
This day, as the ashen sunrise cast
Each arduous step in a lazy silver haze,
The singing sea’s fog slipped along the slick slate
Impaling wary souls upon a bone-rattling gale.
The roar of the piercing wind lashed
At an unseen shoreline, driving stakes
Through shivering, shuffling, submittent wights.
III
The line crawling across the ancient path
Moved as if on a string: the last
Step falling into the prints made
By those ahead, left for those behind.
Beckoned onward by destiny, seduced by blind faith,
We journey under frayed sheepskins and threads.
My hand, pitted and dark, digs with nails like dull spades
Into a low outcropping, preceding the fall of the Blind;
IV
The gravel pathway melted underfoot, under ragged boots
And, clinging for life, for desperate survival in vain,
Left hand fighting fiercely a losing dance with gravity
While the right reached out to be saved.
Shadows encircling but none too close, they were rooted
In the breadth of their path. None seemed impelled
To reach for anything save the light pouring forth from their grail.
Hope fleeting, I release, and what was given been repaid.
V
Never to see the sun’s golden promise on seaside fog,
The restless river races to greet another truant soul
Who dropped from the odyssey like a fruit fly born next to
An empty bowl. The silver-wreathed cemetery trees ring;
The seeds that sprout a network bloom in springtime sunrises;
A sapling oak without strong roots blows over with a light breeze.
It’s not the bitter winds of Winter that saps soul from the weak -
It’s the slow frost of existence in the lucent promise of Spring.
I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?
Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.