Long Rock of gibraltar Poems
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It's a dull and rainy overcast day
A day to stay in and be cosy
Gaze out the window and dream of stuff
As you start to feel quite dozy
Time to write some clever rhymes
As you don your creative chapeau
Bout magical places and scary dragons
Or a scene with the sky all aglow
Maybe macabre like Edgar Allan Poe
Or happy like a Disney named Walter
Perhaps one 'bout the world's great wonders
Like the famous Rock of Gibraltar
Skies the limit let your mind run free
To a world beyond distant stars
To mythical places with exotic names
And customs strange and bizarre
Love them best, these days that inspire
Sweet visions of maidens fair
Days that expand your creative mind
As you climb those celestial stairs
Facing God, Assessor so great
my soul wrestles for earnest plight
midst battle for achievement flight
as I confess my undone* state.
Despite grievous sorrow and pain
my heart seeks the Lord Who makes whole
fixing glitches of undone role
toward wondrous thanksgiving gain.
Upon Christ’s inviting altar
I lay my undone goals with hope
begging for help so I can cope
since He’s my Rock of Gibraltar.
Trusting the Almighty for grace
against torture of being undone
so that good success could be won
I fix my faith to His truth’s brace.
Now, anchored by the Saviour’s stand
my spirit claims victory seal
assured of His miracles' deal
that I’ve done my best by His hand.
*Isaiah 6:5 Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.
January 23, 2024
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol. 41" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 2/9/2024
Folie à deux
("shared madness," or "madness for two").
I suffer in silence, though not alone
kvetching old curmudgeon (me)
(once upon a time, a promising
long haired pencil necked geek)
buzzfeeding off life's miniseries
of unedited miseries in tandem
with ideal counterpart ofttimes
easily mistaken for a clone
Matthew Scott Harris
unable to function without her
(zee wife), he doth espouse as integral
to calculus of his existence
plus attributes wizardly
powers within (yours truly)
derived, highfived, and thrived courtesy
(think symbiotic), quietly riotously quintessentially,
nevertheless beloved hen pecking crone,
we carrion and cavort
(our respective wings
beating at speed of sound)
generating humming drone
beehive ving amorously
exhibiting unchoreographed tableaux
long practiced routine
equilibrium intermittently punctuated
with dynamic pantomime tour de force
communion words superfluous
since telepathic communication
predominates the unspoken wavelength
long established modus operandi
since... before pledging our troth,
while each ourselves in utero
womb during fait accompli
vis a vis gamely matched
think arranged embryonic marriage,
thus marital covenant
essentially linkedin since conception
both of us coaxed when livingsocial
no longer being tethered to umbilical cord
as lifelong playmates
forging compatible association,
now a gratuitous nod to our long since
dearly departed mothers
unbeknownst to them
how like firmly attached barnacles
each handily, snugly, and warmly fit
(esse mitten hand over fist gal love)
vicariously experienced reciprocal
trials and tribulations
whatever fate visited head of the other
permanently anchoring
nsync out rolling - rock of Gibraltar
across metaphorical stormy seas
trying against all odds
to weather strongest
emotional/psychological tempests
wallowing, née drowning in despair
at aging body, fading senses,
and thinning hair
which last named
akin to Samson
bolsters mein kampf
since... infancy, whose
counterpart betraying me like Delilah
wishing and threatening
(albeit jestingly) to lop off golden locks
each hair reed stranded longfellow
woolworth more'n fine spun gold!
My journey through life has seen so much
far have I traveled and much I have done
seen so many things that most others never do
the rock of Gibraltar, with teems of scary monkeys
traveling out we sailed through the Suez canal
wondrous mysteries that delighted an eight year old
camels striding along, enormous crocs floating by
the land so close you want to touch it and run on it
Zanzibar our next port of call, ram shackled boats galore
the heady scents of spices abounds teasing the nostrils
the vivid different colors everywhere flood my senses
on to our destination Dar-es-Salaam harbor most picturesque
a miss mash of ships some luxury most tramp ships or boats
sails of all colors, dark people unloading trunks from the holds
this was a time taken out of time, a way of life quite relaxed
just think of the things ahead, the adventures that awaited me
written 08/08/2013
contest Your Journey
in 1958 the Suez canal was open later it got blocked by sunk ships
What is love?
The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home
or the Siren’s song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit nights
in a field of flowers
or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
or a meandering trail
through the rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
or the rock of Gibraltar?
Love is all that and more
and yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling,
At first blush, irrelevant
and yet it’s an impetus, a catalyst –
An euphoria permeating our entire being.
It is here, it is there
and it is everywhere…
Yet, it is nowhere!
It creates mayhem and chaos
if it turns and walks away.
Love knows no boundaries,
It follows no customs or creed;
It cares not for any
race or language.
Not unlike air and water
or the enlivening sunlight –
Vital in good measures
devastating in excess,
Vexing as a thorn but
as enticing as the fragrance.
Love is but love.
No one has seen it
yet everyone is touched by it,
Its constant presence is overwhelming
Yet you’ll never find
if you go looking for it,
It traverses distant shores,
yet it doggedly never
leaves your threshold.
You are born with it
but can never own it,
Forever it hovers around you
but never can you rein it in.
“Love is a many-splendored thing”*
Yet none can explain its true meaning,
It would call through a bullhorn
but you may not hear it,
It merely whispers in your ears
and turns your life topsy-turvy,
More furious than the flowing lava
It would give you the chills if provoked.
He indeed is a poor soul
bereft of hopes and dreams
who befriendeth not love.
(*Love is a many-splendored thing", Lyrics by Paul Francis Webster.)
~"What Love is?" contest by Bobby May
If I were the president
Of the this great legacy
We call our home,our country
Left to us long ago
By our long departed great fathers
I will strive with all my heart
To build with it a monument
Dynamic yet stable
Solid and strong
Like the great rock of Gibraltar
She will be the envy of other nations
The pride of generations yet unborn
Alas I’m not the president
I’m but a resident
Like everyone else
I can only watch and pray
Perhaps weep
For once there was a nation
Green and beautiful
Filled with potentials
Whose back is now bent
Under the weight of depression,
Corruption and segregation
One day soon, maybe
Our hope that is now withered
Like dying roses in the evening sun
Will receive a surge of life
And blossom yet again!
You and I may yet sing our nation’s anthem
Head high, chest out
And filled with pride
Shining as the stars
On a darkened night sky
And even though we all can’t be president
We will believe always in a new Nigeria
Vibrant, strong, dynamic and stable
Our country, our pride.
It's a dull and rainy overcast day
A day to stay in and be cosy
Gaze out the window and dream of stuff
As you start to feel quite dozy
Time to write some clever rhymes
As you don your creative chapeau
Bout magical places and scary dragons
Or a scene with the sky all aglow
Maybe macabre like Edgar Allan Poe
Or happy like a Disney named Walter
Perhaps one 'bout the world's great wonders
Like the famous Rock of Gibraltar
Skies the limit let your mind run free
To a world beyond distant stars
To mythical places with exotic names
And customs strange and bizarre
Love them best, these days that inspire
Sweet visions of maidens fair
Days that expand your creative mind
As you climb those celestial stairs
My own epiphany, in San Francisco, came, learning from transformed
people.
Who rang my brains like the bells in a church steeple.
When I found out that playing the victim in life is so very lame.
I became, stronger, a doer, and learned life's game,
What's that you say? You are the Rock of Gibraltar?
Get wise, be transformed, we all play games.
As a child you learned to survive by playing any multitude
of games.
The intellectual, the all holy one, behind these, is pure victim.
Afraid to be yourself, some side-show of intellectual wealth.
You quip people with with both wit or stealth!
Once upon a real human being, you perchance,
No longer can you play the victim dance.
The jig is up, as they say.
You wake one morning and have to live another way.
It's not easy, you were trained to be unquestioably right!
You know it all? The Book of Life?
Of course, some insist they do in rabid resistance.
Still playing victims, behind that witty, hyperbolic, flight fence!
Some here or in the world think they are Nostradamus.
In sojourning through life, nobody has the knuckles on all that is rught
but oh, such arrogant fuss.
Oh, but pretend they will!
Watch the maniacs trying to destroy history and the public will.
Victims all, such buffoonery!
They are not better than you or me.
But that victim dance may cost them or you, a fruitful life.
Full of blood, tears and strife.
I wish you transformation inside your own temple.
Where you find love, generosity, the willingness to find it within
yourself to build a world that works for all, and grow beyond the
thorns of being judgemental.
11-27-2020
What is love?
The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home,
Or the Siren song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit night
in a field of flowers
Or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
Or a meandering trail
through a rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
Or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
Or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
Or the rock of Gibraltar?
Love is all that and more,
And yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling –
At first blush, irrelevant
And yet,
It’s an impetus, a catalyst –
An euphoria permeating our entire being--
"Love is a many-splendored thing!"*
*(P.F.Webster / Sammy Fain)
~"Types of Love" contest by Nayda Negron
Be wary dear soul of lull before the storm
Languish not in comfort zone
Complacency sets in, amidst bliss caress warm
Yet crisis strikes, when we’re alone
Too late then, for us to atone
Make no mistake; the universe will test
At the least expected moment
The pure of heart lightly pass this off in jest
For the rest, it’s dark fear poignant
We turn to God, omnipotent
Yet too often, we falter at the altar
Since we choose to dwell in darkness
We stand not firm, like the rock of Gibraltar
Reflex response stuporousness
Deadened is our consciousness
Thus moment to moment, oh dear lama
Let’s hark to voice of conscience
Heart cleansed of stigma, life then no enigma
Sparkles childlike innocence
Aglow in God’s luminescence
18-January-2022