Long Securely Poems
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June 3 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 68-70
Key Verse – Psalm 68:5 A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FATHER ALMIGHTY
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
surely arising to carry me to Your presence
Thank You for Your salvation that makes me rejoice with gladness’ essence…
Seeking Your will, I dwell in Your holy habitation’s iridescence
Set me always in Your goodness to overcome solitary gloom-license.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
securely establishing me by Your perfection
Thank You for Your stability that guards me from foolish instruction…
Standing upon Your grace, I praise You for Your benefits’ provision
Seal me always with Your mercies, beyond depths of my transgression.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
steadfastly leading me to Your sanctuary
Thank You for Your sacrifice that causes me to follow You toward victory…
Submitting to Your wisdom, I come to Your enclosing hands of glory
Strengthen me always by Your power midst my worry because of sin-misery.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
sweetly comforting me in my weariness
Thank You for Your satisfaction that confounds me of my haughtiness…
Stepping in Your light, I abide in Your righteous zealousness
Sanctify me always along Your cleansing pardon toward my holiness.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
sincerely hearing me and my prayer’s plight
Thank You for Your shield that encloses me within Your deliverance-delight…
Singing for Your honour, I exalt You for Your help in my distress-blight
Stir me always midst Your gentleness as from sorrow, I take my flight.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
straightly humbling me of my arrogance
Thank You for Your specialty in miracles gripping me with divine elegance…
Shining with Your radiance, I claim Your granted eternal inheritance
Sustain me always with Your supplies along stewardship-assurance.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
speedily rescuing me in Your timely haste
Thank You for Your servanthood example that prods me for works so chaste…
Staying in Your plan, I overcome worldliness’ tempting vanity waste
Support me always in my quest to savor Your of heavenly taste.
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
Brutus Iulius Trois Page 06
The defeated Pandrasus spoke out
his weary words weighted with wisdom.
Linus is as Greek as I am Greek and as a Greek
let him inherit the crown, I'll name no other heir.
take for yourself as bride my Imogen, my daughter
many fine ships shall be her portion
and peace shall be proud Imogen's price
Set sail Brutus, leave all that is Greek behind
take those who would be Trojans home to Troy
Grey bearded Membyr rapped his cane for silence.
Fools with hands still bloody from fighting!
What peace can live with the families of the slain?
Linus will wait for a crown he won't live to wear.
Brutus accept the kings tribute and let us depart.
light heart-ed Brutus danced long at his wedding
Ere he left Chanoia to sail home, home to Troy
happy Brutus was with his bride fair Helen's image
youthful Imogen, old Pandrasus's proud daughter
with his new ships Brutus went sailing , keeping to the coastlines
through the archipelagos, around the Greek peninsula
at every anchorage being joined by freedmen and escaped bonds men
at every anchorage being provisioned by small kings and unhappy chieftains
who hastily sent away this army of would be Trojans back to Troy
An unwilling wife was Imogen who wept for her homeland
her eyes turned to the shore while it was in sight
Imogen wept for her mother, her father, her fate
Imogen wept for her spinning wheel and wept for her loom
Imogen wept for her gardens, her gowns and her goats
Imogen wept for all that was hers, which was left behind.
Brutus soothed and kissed her holding her tightly
until weary with weeping Imogen slept.
At Sounion, Brutus climbed the cliff to Neptune's temple,
offering a spotted bull with passionate prayers for a safe voyage
As the sun set on the Aegean, a citizen came from Athens.
Philaeus, son of Eurysaces, the last king of Salamis.
An oracle of Apollo had demanded he renounce his rights to rule
and have Neptune's lost sacrifice returned to its altar
So he gave away his kingship, and came here carrying Hesione's ashes
Hesione, the stolen sister of Priam. The late payment of Laomedon's debt.
As Laomedon's heir, Brutus accepted the task
taking the veil covered amphora, he gave it great honor
placing it upon his own ship, fastened securely behind the prow
November 5 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on 1Corinthians 3-4
Key Verse – 1Corinthians 3:7 So then neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITH-INCREASE GIVER
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
substantially feeding me with Your provision
Thank You for sufficing me against murmuring by Your satisfaction
Forgive me for not believing Your need meeting-function…
Please brace up my spirituality toward heavenly productivity-fruition.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
securely planting me in Your contentment
Thank You for watering me so I can grow by Your nurturing enablement
Forgive me for not maximizing Your grace-propped empowerment…
Please uphold my commitment for Your favoured accomplishment.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
strongly building me up by Your might
Thank You for illumining me with Your Scriptures’ light
Forgive me for not working well according to what is right…
Please cleanse my temple where Your Holy Ghost dwells day and night.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
sturdily guiding me with Your wisdom
Thank You for inviting me to participate for the advancement of Your kingdom
Forgive me for not enjoying in Your will because of my carnal boredom…
Please instill in my virtue genuine love to serve You with blessed freedom.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
steadily reigning over me with Your goodness
Thank You for teaching me dependence to Your trustworthiness
Forgive me for not blooming because of my slothfulness…
Please nourish my growth against interfering worldliness.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
soberly instructing me by Your Word
Thank You for directing me to stay in Your truth of divine record
Forgive me for not obeying Your ways along the Spirit’s sword…
Please shield my heart from deceit that brings fellowship-discord.
Lord God, You are my faith-increase Giver,
straightly ministering to me as Your steward
Thank You for assuring me Your triumph for sacrifices’ full reward
Forgive me for not trusting You in my unbelief as I slide backward…
Please protect my steps as I follow You in marching forward.
November 5, 2023
Ferret Legging
You never know what you’ll find on the net
Nothing much surprises me there and yet
I found a sport that takes no native skill
Just a strong pair of pants and a real strong will
Competitors’ trousers are tied neath their shin
Before two ferrets are securely placed in
Their belts are then fastened to prevent an escape
And that’s where the very strong will should take shape
Each competitor then stands in front of a judge
As long as he can trying so not to budge
Neither ferret nor man can be drunk or be drugged
And no underwear worn so your parts can be hugged
Pants must be loose so the ferrets can roam
From one leg to the other and their movement shown
Each ferret must have a full set of teeth
That have not been blunted or anyway sheathed
Ferrets have claws like very sharp pins
And teeth like a carpet tack that they can sink in
And ferrets are biters and you’ve got a pair
So your “tool” may be bitten and you better not care
Competitors can attempt from outside their pants
To dislodge a ferret that’s latched on by chance
The winner’s the guy that outlasts the rest
And stands there the longest in this little test
Scotland’s the country where this all began
And the record is held by a brave Scottish man
The record’s been set that will be hard to beat
Five hours 10 minutes and still on his feet
Unfortunately the sport’s been dying out
With PETA and others protesting the bout
But if you’re in Virginia, in Richmond next year
And go to the Highland Games there I hear
They may have a ferret or two up their sleeve
That you can insert in your pants I believe
And if you can just stand there for six hours or more
You can bring the world record right here to our shore
But first grab some loose pants and maybe a kitten
Practice with that getting use to being bitten
Work up to a cat and then up to two
That is exactly what I thought I’d do
Then I thought again and again then I thought
Can a lesson be learned before that lesson’s taught?
So I tried to imagine how a ferret would feel
Could I stand there a man without a girly squeal?
Would I be embarrassed or pass out from fright
And I thought and I thought and I thought that I might
So I’ll go on record, this sport’s not for me
But if you’re game to try it, that I’d go to see
Buried in an avalanche you
might see on "Hoarders buried alive"
back and foreground
white sheet with limited pay per view,
nonetheless sky scraping heap
(Uriah not kid) nsync with a 'U'-
shaped tube anchored securely thru
solid wood - sporting
towering, leaning, bulging, et cetera slew,
sans huge sized mounds,
this goodfella cockily rue
stirs memories while
almond joying sifting,
(comprising ream mains of outdated queue
vee cee paraphernalia, bank statements, old
fair maidens faded letters, phew
against unrequited lovely lasses
kissed by either gentile or Jew
us gal, during young manhood
confession stated, aye did accrue
now (said besmirched Casanova
wannabe across floor I did strew
said, no longer promising princess,
whose once tenderly fresh rose buds
exuded profusely courtesy ingénue
argh..., how frivolous to argue
with cowardly former self, hence
into the maw of das spouse (Sibyl)
she more than enthusiastically
masticates regarding unblossomed
(romantic opportunity) yours truly blew,
when flickr ring spark flame snuffed out
before profound love chanced to hint
of compatibility, ah... nary a blues clue
maybe best not to fantasize
going down nostalgia avenue,
but cast attention upon motley crew,
no matter I traversed
boulevard of broken dreams
(but oh this...pray lemme tell you
more on this cool spring green day)
ornamented with boughs of churrigueresque
mother nature's divinely wrought
sensational beauty procreative forces construe,
yanking fanciful thoughts back to feeding
pulpy material pages of me child's worldview
scribbled squiggly blurred lines
no doubt gifted artistic prodigies shew
did evince talent this papa doth truly value,
yet an excess of near identical curlique
leaves little breathing room, plus report
cards shows innovative smarts,
frequent affirmations this dada paid due
tee, which gushing praise
my girls never taxed for, yet both knew
this aging baby boomer father decries
being swamped with exorbitant clutter
hence effort now made to save whar grew,
some artistic embellishment and/or
intellectual award, the majority hesitantly fed
into jaw of thee missus the human flew
where hard copy quickly incinerated inducing
me to sneeze atchew!
When I write, it's as though my thoughts become the words that shift into armor as they ascend from the depths of my mind and safely enclose me. The pen, clenched in my hand acts as my sword. The paper, my shield. Through written words I can affirm, assert, even dominate. Through written words, I can express everything I am afraid to say out loud.
Spoken words bring with them vulnerability. I have not my sword or shield to defend or hide behind. Standing face to face with him I bite my lip and look to the ground with a nervous giggle. "What's on your mind?" he asks. Oh how I wish I could tell him. I shake my head and lean into his sturdy chest as he wraps his arms securely around me. My voice box declines a response yet my brain has already begun composing the next great symphonic masterpiece.
The way that piece of hair flops over your forehead in the morning, is on my mind. That little divot you get between your eyebrows when you begrudgingly realize it's time to get up. The grogginess in your eyes that search for me next to you in the morning. The deep breath you take before rolling over to kiss me, and the raspiness when you say, "good morning beautiful".
I look into your piercing grey eyes and I am lost. Lost in a day dream of waking every day to those same eyes for the rest of my life. For seeing my future, our futures together. Starting our days like this every day. Preparing your black coffee and breakfast for you as you shower. Looking on in disgust as you ruin my perfectly good eggs with your addition of ketchup and hot sauce.
Moving to the bathroom we both get ready for our days. Your compulsion to hold a conversation with me while you brush your teeth makes me laugh as I try to understand your peppermint mumble. I watch as you force in your contacts even though you prefer to just wear your glasses. I take a moment to admire the sight of you.
On your way out the door, you tell me you love me. I hesitate. There it is. That fear of vulnerability. For when I say it back the power is yours to either make me so immensely happy, or to absolutely crush me. So I smile and tell you to have a great day. To let me know when you get to work safely. It's my own coded way of saying I love you in response.
since becoming housed here since this year
july first two thousand and seventeen,
tubby more precise where
with thee missus, amidst bucolic environs,
(one could don underwear
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
trees abundant with leaves of grass spare
zip cone: one nine four seven three,
this resident doth not find *****
disproportionate amount of time,
he spends never to overhear
the mostly soundproof walls
inside apartment b44 assigned midyear,
one bedroom living social space
gives ample opportunity to assess linear
ratcheting asper elderly folks inch along
chronological space/time continuum
fragile as jasperware
many experience diminution
of vital sensory organs, and oft time cannot hear
even without television blasting away,
no doubt harboring anticipatory anxiey sans,
grim reaper's unannounced visit they fear
their non verbal body language
(when aye espy and stride-rite past,
an old lady or man riding shot gun
securely strapped in wheel chair,
shuffling back where buffalo used to roam,
or trudging to common all purpose gathering place)
speaks volumes analogous to a frightened deer
when caught blindsided
within bright lights of an automobile 'ere
unsure which way to go, and dashing out in the thick
of evening rush hour traffic,
lacking notion, the figurative coast not clear
subsequently doe ting bucks killed, where birds of prey
thence loftily circle gracefully
gliding within upper atmospheric air
page number two:
upon scrutinizing what doth appear
as a hollowed out existence induces me to de clear
to maximize utilizing each precious moment 'ere
before each major metaphorical cog and gear
frankly zaps, this dude looks like a lady,
cuz ah ma longish bedraggled hydrogen peroxide tinted hair
me haint give a rats ass
what rumor mongers relish, and behind me back jeer
Since old people lack for purposefulness tis unlike to leer
that one day (fast as snap of fingers), lack of being ambulatory t'will be near
and upon limitation in physical functionality, aye aim to app pear
motivated to partake of mental exercises just sitting on me rear.
Tough
Your back is brittle, like time-greyed oak,
Curved like a bow,
The string constantly tight and ready.
The glare from your eyes:
Like cold steel.
The things that you do,
Always securely perfect and correct.
Your voice strained
Like a muted trumpet
Except, for when you get irritated,
Then, jarring for my ears
And thorns in my gut.
Your criticism is like sharp scissors
That cuts through silk,
But you never learned to sew.
And “join” “patch up” “repair” “sorry” “kindness” and “response-ability”
Are long gone from your life-dictionary.
You walk like a string puppet soldier,
Held, controlled and moved
By the invisible wire
Of your rigid up-bringing,
Conditioning and beliefs.
But sometimes, even the best machines:
Break down
And then you spend days in bed,
Sick with poisonous coughs,
Or thundering,
Heavy and oppressive headaches,
Or mysterious pain in your legs.
You view these “lapses” with impatience,
As indications of weakness
That need to be scrubbed out
Like an annoying stain
On a spotless white tablecloth.
You don’t see the blinking stars,
Or hear the constant, but faint whispers
Gently attempting to coax you back
To the road you abandoned,
Which still longs for the unique print
Of your feet.
Sometimes I glance at you and wonder:
Was the laughter and naturalness
Beaten out of you?
Or, all the warmth and juice
You must have had,
Freezed and squeezed away,
Like a once succulent plum
Is now an unrecognisable prune.
Or so shamed,
That the mask and costume
You took on to survive,
Grew roots into you,
And became like ivy that smothers a tree,
Making it almost unknowable.
You think you are strong?
Yes you are tough,
Scarred and shaped by the battlegrounds
Of the life that encircled you.
But strong Men know how to weep,
Bleed,
Give,
Shake with panic and fear.
Yes you’ve learned a lot,
Your intellect and knowledge
Could fill a bookshelf.
But your fertile, green valley
Of gentleness and vulnerability,
Has been ignored, over-looked
And forgotten for so long now…
That it is choked with weeds and thorns
And beyond recognition,
How sad.
Sangeet Portals October 2022
A template swap is a switch over to a swimming sword. Swordfish are very pleased at this and dunk their noses into goblets in a godlike fashion. Such etiquette in a swim. Formational framework finds format. And even a small pinnacle of cake icing could dance down the highways. So ignoring the wraths and word of woe it is wise to take out a pretty smiling biscuit. Place it carefully on a plate. Then climb up the hill and over the rope bridge. Very high altitude causes biscuits to be afraid so they must be calmed with soothing words and beats of breath. When the other side of the mountain is reached the biscuit must be harnessed securely using over twenty ropes. Then and only then can the abseiling begin. Wow aren't they travelling with speed, courage and optimism but optimism is neither an original orifice nor an octagonal oversized overspill objective. It is really then the sway of a ninety thousand foot toothbrush that can announce the time with no need of amplification via a microphone or a tannoy system. Wow. How intriguing is the belligerent hard yard of a semi dressed riddled jester? And how time consuming is the ongoing rashers of tinned and sliced ham? How delegated are the powers that are worn around and around and adjudicate the environment? Thus thwarting life in its structural natural weave. And a giant beehive hairdo must be re worn as a signal to a hive. Hide then. Hideous hags having heaping heads. And legs like little tables spin and rotate via remote control. Similar to a plate of writhing meal worms and a workshop of controlled chapel chaos. Big birthday balloons bring balls banging. Circumference of circulating capital charms. And a diameter of a diagram is a dare in the deeds. Castle that then fortify but do not attempt to fry for to fry is to form fiendish frolics. And to frolic is just not a fashionable way of wearing a peel is it? Hahaha the sausages are listening to their cousins today. Hahaha I want a cup of tea and a toast too said the little bluey green lamp. Xxxxxx parasympathetic parody xxxx xxxx etymologies z z z z z at twenty one full meals of porridge in a bread pan to twenty sequences of serving cereals to a six inch bowl. Z.
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