Long Servitude Poems
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The clock on the mantle, quietly chimed ten
As she placed the note by its face
Then checking herself in the mirror
She walked to the door, to pick up her case,
The note told him, that she was leaving
That her love for him had died
And without that love, she’d be living a lie
No matter how hard she tried
She hadn’t wanted to leave him this way
She wanted to tell him, face to face
But knew if she did, he’d persuade her to stay
Then she’d never get out of this place.
You see, she’d tried to leave him twice before
But he’d always talked her around
And made her a prisoner, in her own home
Whilst driving her spirit into the ground
She’d lived this way for seven years,
But now the worm had turned
She was leaving her life of servitude,
To find the true love that she yearned.
As she put on her coat and walked through the door
She harboured no feelings of sorrow
For she knew she was crossing the threshold
To a life with a brighter tomorrow.
Opportunities arise,
A better life -
A chance at being treated like a human being
A fresh start
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A new life awaits
Joy, excitement?
Behind the scenes - false promises,
Broken agreements,
Signed without sight -
Just sinister smiles,
And deceitful handshake
Lies of change becomes a campaign poster
A guise to prey on innocent black families
A dirty dance with the devils themselves -
The British government,
Filled with the corrupt who deceive minorities
The windrush generation -
Given the most dangerous jobs,
With no guarantee of protection
Rights a foreign concept
Re-building a country with the promise of acceptance
A temporary job, with the hope of permanent employment
No citizenship or wages -
Just broken hope and disappointment
Treated as disposable,
Left with no options
Used and abused, injected with embarrassment
Then publicly shamed - calling us ‘dangerous’ and ‘illegal’
A country we built, but are treated like intruders
They excused our mistreatment for the reason -
That we are just slaves not people
The Winds of Wars
The winds of wars have shorn the shores where children once had played,
revealing bones of dead unknowns for whom the faithful’d prayed,
to no avail beneath the veil of death where rockets strayed,
for tit-for-tat is where it's at when war hawks’ eggs are laid.
The winds of wars destroy the moors, strew corpses’ burnt debris
which stains the staves that mark the graves (blest signs of victory)
where somber moms are sighing psalms while staring wistfully
upon the past before the blast that doomed their destiny.
The winds of wars clog corridors with folks in search of peace
because, outside, the genocide is giving no surcease;
‘But what the heck, it pays the check’, so say the world Police –
beneath the sky, they slice the pie, each hacking off a piece.
The winds of wars have wiped the floors with foes who won’t obey
(the bombs that fall are meant for all, the bodies ricochet) –
‘The carcass count may sadly mount’ the vanquishers will say,
while hiding facts of heinous acts neath verbal lingerie.
The winds of wars (soon metaphors for hellish deeds, though deeper)
have flattened schools (allowed by rules as written by the Reaper),
and brought despair beamed through the air (beware the booby beeper)
and, when they slay so faraway, make human life the cheaper.
The winds of wars have spread the spores that taint and mangle minds
with doublespeak and hide-and-seek that closes eyes and grinds
the passive pawns (once mowed like lawns) with servitude that binds,
and while the blight is holding tight, the wider world unwinds.
Postscript
The Wins of Wars
The wins of wars fill warlords’ drawers (some call it charity)
with yellow gold for weapons sold to kill the enemy
and purloined oil from conquered soil and tankers seized at sea –
the poor are billed to fund and build the wartime industry.
The wins of wars are won by whores who sell their souls with glee
and run amok to spend a buck (for killing’s never free)
and more and more they’ll arm for war (a spiraled spending spree)
until at last the warrior caste’s deposed and forced to flee.
Any god that creates beings to serve them is a slaver and a robber, and therefore a false god.
Surely deep within the heart of humankind, lays a God of grace, freedom and love.
That watches and sees all and where possible expounds it's grace, freedom and love,
through and to those who are receptive. This is the one true God.
This great God of grace, freedom and love whom I shall simply call She,
does not require sacrifice, does not create servants or slaves.
She is the infinite source of all and simply gives of her wealth freely,
to any one who will accept her, She alone is Almighty, Most High, I AM.
I love Her.
From Her comes life and to Her it returns.
From Her comes love and to Her it returns.
She is the foundation and the source of all things.
She is eternal and everlasting.
When we surrender fully to Her, we become Her and yet in losing ourselves we become ourselves.
Heywah. Selah.
It's not about obedience, servitude or slavery.
It's about co-operation, grace, freedom and love.
Love is a gift that is meant to be given and in giving the more becomes the greater. Selah.
“Let not your heart be troubled”* midst uncertainty
Believe in God along His sovereignty…
Trust Him Who’s the Source of eternal life’s bounty
Rely on His might as your soul-salvation’s security.
“Let not your heart be troubled” despite seemingly bleak future
Have faith in the Saviour with His compassion’s gesture
He’s the good Shepherd Who leads toward grace-pasture
Against cravings offered by materialistic culture.
“Let not your heart be troubled” in serving the Lord God
Always abide in Him and in His Word for His approval’s nod
Use the Spirit’s sword as well as steward’s faithfulness-rod
Follow His leading, walking upon servitude paths He trod.
“Let not your heart be troubled”** with the Father’s assurance
Being His child of spiritual abundance and peace-appearance
Keep on praying fervently along faith’s endurance
While testifying about Christ’s love and mercy’s forbearance.
“Let not your heart be troubled” as blessings you share
Be a blessing to others with concern and care
Declare the Gospel redemption for souls’ welfare
For them to enjoy heavenly mansions***, divinely rare.
*John 14:1 Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.
**John 14:27 Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
***John14:2 In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.
Didactic and Rhyme forms
April 28, 2019
"Having received this precious love letter
I'm thrilled that I feel vibrantly better…
Will you guess, my friend, who the sender is?
Cheering now my heart, filling me with bliss???”
“Knowing how your countenance does express
The jubilation no gloom can’t suppress
I may just wonder and with you rejoice
Since to be happy always marks your choice.”
“Oh, I’ll give you clues that can serve as guide
So other options you must set aside…
Now, first… ‘successful’ describes the person
Second, ‘grateful’ for every learned lesson.”
“I’m sure of my answer, as I say: ‘Wow’
Since your letter sender is with us now…
Having written me words of gratitude
Thanking God for teachers' kind servitude."
"So we received same letter; that's so sweet
From our students who will give gracious treat
Greeting us with 'Wonderful Teachers'* Day
The Lord be praised that you directed our way!'"
*1 Corinthians 12:28 And God hath set some in the church, first apostles, secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers...
October 18, 2023
2nd place, "Get into the conversation" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 10/20/2023
Growing up, I became aware of you
As the god you gotta get by
The things I truly desired, silent
Covered fitly in "not good" sighs
In my day, children were barely seen
And their words never contradict
All the will and "well meaning" adults
Who in secret, were derelicts
.....dressed in their Sunday Best
I found that path to be empty lies
Piled upon servitude and obligation
Supernatural experiences,periodically
Seemed to break up the monotonous sensation
....of life
Life, that was no life, and I called you on it
Show up, be real, or get the hay out of dodge
...YOU DID
I began to walk with you, talk with you, know you
Made a place in my heart where you could lodge
...in moments when it was safe to FEEL
For over thirty years, you have been there
As the getting by god
No matter what sorrow, suffering
Or rocky, difficult road I was asked to trod....through
Now, you want me to leave all of my coping tools
My well constructed, very familiar workbench
And follow you...into new...without a clue
......darkness, really!?!
I've been set up, I have lost the ability to dream
My joy drained in every advance of the enemy
Again and again, I got up and walked
Irritated at what you required of me
I trust you.....but I have long since
Enjoyed your company
Have forgotten how to know your heart
Thinking, what's the point of you hearing mine
The tremendous loss of what I could have been
And the utter disappointment of who you made me to be
Drains me...I'm light-headed
I need a reset...
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-17-2022
Note: Not a work of art. I just needed to process. Thanks for viewing.
Create in me, Jesus, my God, a heart bent toward gratitude
Truly a jewel of commendable and favorable attitude…
Likewise, a proof of faith’s fortitude
Along my pursuits upon spiritual latitude
Toward faithful stewardship altitude.
With Your granted salvation-beatitude
I express my gratefulness devoid of platitude.
May I please You along my joy-filled rectitude
In my thankfulness’ certitude
Thankful* for the privilege of godly servitude.
*1Chronicles 16:8 Give thanks unto the LORD, call upon his name, make known his deeds among the people.
April 7, 2019
Men of the Flame
Men of the flame,
Basking in the aura of fame
So confident with signs and wonders
Proclaiming to raise the dead and heal the lame.
They cast, bind evil spirits tame
One even said; "God is game"
Is this offerings for God or the priest-
Whose deceit thrives under God's name?
They feed upon the people's emotion;
Men who believed signs and wonders was the only solution.
Shabbily clad in penury's pad
Those offerings dropped; just to seek God's attention.
To them they came like men heavily laden
And to those they came their minds hidden
Winning the poor man's soul to messiah's gate
While theirs was the devil's haven.
Hallelujah! Voices echoed loud
Strange incantations ransack the misty cloud.
Tongues twisting, bodies falling
Only God alone knows what lies beneath their mystery shroud.
Deceit must thrive over religion
Tell the truth; there goes religious rebellion
So, trick will do the trip
An antidote to amuse the desperate congregation.
Prosperity opens the sermon's door;
"...He never created you to be poor"
Cars donated, empty bags with cash impregnated
Still they filled it more and more.
I thought salvation was free
That we need not bribe our way you and me.
"Thou shalt not tell lie;"
But why do these men refuse to call a bee a bee?
The air around us is dosed with sin
Followers in rags, leaders draped in suits covering their skin
In seclusion alcohol and fornication is no longer ungodly
But to us they are forbidden.
We have heard of your festival of fire
And the cars and jets you acquire.
The veil of servitude as blidfolded our thoughts
Hoping for divine favour when we retire.
Men of the flame
The world knows your name
carved in devil's corsive
someday, you shall go back to the fire from whence you came.
I don't like her
Not hate, I just know I could be better
Obsidian hair falls over her face
Perfectly
Why not me?
When will I be lucky?
Today he is wearing burgundy
His raspy voice tickles so good
Oh! Look...
She is dancing on him
Her existence makes mine so dim
I don't like her
My bag is heavy today
A little shopping you know
Strayed into his set yesterday
I don't know how
We were just meant to be
His cologne smells so good
And no, I am not a creep
It was laying around
I will keep it safe and sound
His vest smells heavenly! Did I tell you that?
Cigarette butt
Whisky glass
Vintage hat
That belt forged from brass...
I can still taste his essence
Don't worry I just put out his cigarette
Protect the environment I guess
Mrs. Jagger
Makes me kick my feet
Reminiscing future memories
Breakfast in bed
I would give him total servitude
Surely my tarot readings are true
Luck is for the chosen few
I work hard just to...
To be in the same room
And her
He is in my stars
But am I in his?
Do you think I'm crazy?