Long Shaper Poems
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September 4 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Malachi 1-4
Key Verse – Malachi 1:2 I have loved you, saith the LORD. Yet ye say, Wherein hast thou loved us? Was not Esau Jacob's brother? saith the LORD: yet I loved Jacob.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY LOVING SAVIOUR
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and surely burden Reliever
Thank You for protecting me against heritage waste-deceiver
And enriching my soul, being Your humble grace receiver
By Your salvation-sacrifice, making me Your believer.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and surely heart Beseecher
Thank You for exhorting me through Your revival-kindling preacher
And admonishing my mind, being Your truth searcher
By Your assurance I need from You, my perfect Teacher.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and authoritative Commander
Thank You for empowering me to serve You with full surrender
And enabling my obedience, being Your covenant upholder
By Your love I acknowledge since You are my life Builder.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and holiness Imparter
Thank You for delighting me with Your counsel as love letter
And commending my devotion, being Your heavenly goal setter
By Your goodness I appreciate, my Friend and Master.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and way Preparer
Thank You for refining me with Your purging righteousness-wrapper
And increasing my faith, being Your faithful stewardship-reaper
By Your Word I trust with Your hand as my character-shaper.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and offence Rebuker
Thank You for correcting me along Your precepts as law-speaker
And rewarding my labour, being Your diligent worker
By Your favour I pray for against becoming a glory-seeker.
Lord God, You are my loving Saviour, and guilt Burner
Thank You for upholding me with Your truth-banner
And perfecting my character, being Your redeemed sinner
By Your might and mercy for me, Your worshipful soulwinner.
September 4, 2023
A tribute to "The Little Prince," by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
Little being, descending from your star,
Your heart draws desert animals.
And when night slowly unveils her altar,
Your bright smile echoes like crystals.
Little child, you gave your heart to a flower.
Your volcanoes are calmly expecting you.
While the traveller, you await in your tower,
You catch sight of fertile maps within you.
Little Prince! Little Prince!
Draw me your country.
Fall asleep on the dunes
And soar to the moon!
A dream shaper, you truly are.
You found heaven before any grown-up—
A child’s heart soothes the deepest scar.
Children like you are a sweet cup.
Sometimes, it is lonely among people, too.
Yet, some spirits have confident honesty
That fills the emptiness with tongues so new
That everything suddenly becomes beauty.
Little Prince! Little Prince!
Draw me your country.
Fall asleep on the dunes
And soar to the moon!
Little angel, sitting across the horizon,
The sun caresses your blond curly hair.
Often, the land for you loses its blazon;
Yet, you always feel freedom’s prayer.
Little man, your soul is a friend.
Your love has tended to her needs;
And my flame, you would daily defend,
So that I, too, could finally spread the seeds!
Little Prince! Little Prince!
Draw me your country.
Fall asleep on the dunes
And soar to the moon!
They may try to debase your infinity.
They may try to torment your kingdom.
Yet, forgiveness has been part of your trinity
Towards those who have lost their freedom.
So, little prince, continue on your way.
Wait for another star and another flower.
Smile at the present to pave tomorrow’s day.
Children’s souls have some unique power!
Little Prince! Little Prince!
Draw me your country.
Fall asleep on the dunes
And soar to the moon!
Little Prince,
Your best ally,
(Your province)
Is the sky!
----
©2010 Cendrine Marrouat
As the dream king is sat at his throne...
What am I to do whilst I am away? What then would befall my kingdom? There is still so much to do but yet, I am administered so little time. I am here now but what should take priority? This throne alike every footstep of mine bears the weight of those many grains of sand that has helped shape what I am & what you would want to be. Since this is a peculiar circumstance-
Lord shaper sighs...
I am permitted one last show of viability. This will be my final act, not only as king but as morpheus.
Morpheus waves his hand to relieve himself of his throne and thus all of creation awakens...
I am at the end of my duties so yes, I am also at the end of my life. For thousands of years Ive believed that my role being dream of the endless was unchangeable and essential. Because of that I was to be unchallenged and unable to be woven unto anything more or less- that my presence was to keep order to an unorderly presence within the subconscious minds of both the temporal & immortal. My my, how much has developed, even within these final hours of mine, I cannot remain ever so stiff. I am tired...
The sandman walks into his chambers, closes the door & lays atop his bed for the first and final time...
May my final moments be to me what it has always been to others- not finality but an open ended agreement of the inevitable. As I lay here with my eyes shut, I am both shaken and relieved. This is what I have given & so I believe it is only fair that I shall receive the same. I welcome the next few breaths with this last, endlessly repeated word that seemed so hallowed yet now Ive come to understand it personally... Goodnight.
As he finishes his thoughts- the dream king, lord shaper, dream of the endless, morpheus himself, fells into a slumber of sorts. One not maintained by any of his siblings nor even himself of course. Bittersweet it is and always has been.
Erato
Out of an ethereal mist her form –
round, soft edges shimmering, a milky
apparition, like the full moon on a foggy
July night. Myrtle and roses came first
in the aroma that took him to the shores
of Tunisia and a Mediterranean breeze –
his mind wandered until she came full into view
and then his focus was secure…her beauty
filled every available space and he was captivated,
captured by love’s rich palette. He recognized her
not from a daydream nor a fantasy but his Big Dream.
“You…we have known before the slippery
rocks and the gypsy dance…stars over Mont Royal.”
With one look and a flash of lightning she charmed
his sight; he should have known he was doomed
to make the pilgrimage to Samos and the tomb.
She came to fill his head with poetry, rivers
of words to fill his verses and charge them
with emotions. Instead she filled his heart
with a drunkard’s love, a spring wine
with a delicate bouquet…morning weighs heavy.
“Let me open the gate and chase the noisy
dogs away, my riches lie within the garden.”
The shaper of words then took her guitar and sang
sweet melodies like kisses and he was the Best Man
far too drunk to resist her passions. He partook
in the creation of music divine amid the cries
of idolatry but he was deaf to the discord.
With every song they sang he fell deeper
into her graces and his destiny was sealed;
he traded his heart to be skilled in the art
of making love with words, a noble task.
Whenever his vision appeared
he sensed infinity within his grasp.
So, could this awakening be
the pebble whose ripples rock the sea?
The seeker, who had found his treasure,
was now swimming in fatal hope.
I am jealous of White Feather to have kissed
the artful lips of Erato and survived.
Contest: Your BEST
Sponsor: SKAT
Worthy of love, unbreakable togetherness, and lasting compassion would have been instilled
strongly in the vessel of thirsting heart and unstable mind of a child.
But, why soup of hatred, a platter of pale love and a bowl of spoiled unloving thoughts
are laid in the niche of the child’s sprouting character?
Family ties were untied by a father who neglected his pure actions and encouraging words
and translated into unspoken greediness and unnoticed carelessness of expressed thoughts
that form the growing character of his son.
The family bonding is disbanded by a mother who works in the scope of her comfort where
eyes and mouth are only the weapons of her love and care for her curious daughter and for
her wandering son.
A father who offers a well of gold and silver, a mother who clothes sparkling dress of
worldly wealth to her offspring!
Their children have worn ever the brightest smile but not for a while,
The pleasures of their tongue were satisfied but not their hearts.
Corruption begins at home.
It creeps to the nerves of the heart of your son.
It envelops the innocent soul of your daughter.
For every dishonest word that is pronounced by the indifferent father,
For every unchecked actions that mother has imposed,
Are a sure lifetime shaper to the values and character of the children.
Family brings serpents of corruption in every corner of the home.
It blows very hard like a destructive wind of the storm.
It is like a starving lion that preys on the flesh of good virtues and leaves nothing but
dead soul!
Father, Mother, May I appeal to your deepest conscience and understanding!
May you be vigilant and be watchful of your actions and your ways of life!
Your most beloved children are at stake in the breaking and making of their character!
I met a man who was a builder, harder life than some.
His lifetimes measure built of him the man he has become.
A carpenter who works with hands, grown tough through each nail driven.
For each connection made he stands to witness love he’s given.
A life that’s built of wood and people, dreams all shared with God.
Connected through a path of faith, a worthy man might trod.
He builds the dream of home and hearth that each heart so requires
with hands that strive forever forward, even though he tires.
With back that bends toward prayer as a soul on bended knees
he places pieces one by one til finished home he sees.
A sculptor of each family’s home and all their vested futures.
With caulk and nail and sweat and blood his only given sutures.
Directing useful trees to be arranged by artful hand.
Conducting symphonies of glory, weather to withstand.
A visionary born of lumber, plaster, tile, and stone,
making memories of houses where his light has shown.
A designer of dreams he moves with speed to completion.
Steady with strength, quick with purpose, into every season.
Delivering hollowed caverns of life for those to call their own.
Shaping shells whose contents hold the people he has known.
A shaper of fluidity, measuring courses, marking flow;
constructor of places where souls reside, and lives have space to grow.
This man I met is but one finger, not at all so odd,
who moves with steady purpose, on another hand of God.
I met a Mr. Dreamy handsome guy on a dating site,
and talking and texting him was a delight !
After a few weeks we decided it was time to meet,
and without hesitated I said yes in a heartbeat !
I wanted to look sexy for him on our first date,
so weight loss- I planned to accelerate !
To help in the illusion I purchased a body shaper
it was black and stiff and fit my body like wrapping paper !
But, lets face it the shaper "thing" was really a girdle,
and for sure I would not be jumping even a small hurdle !
So, the day arrived and I put on my pretty new dress,
and the "thing" and I did look two sizes smaller was my guess !
He seemed quite dazzled by my beauty ... and shape,
but I am thinking- from this "thing" is there any escape !
We went for a walk first and I was having trouble walking,
with each breath taken- the shaper "thing" was blocking !
So, we get to a fancy Italian restaurant and sit down,
but I excuse myself right away and start looking around; !
In the washroom I remove the "thing" that was me,
oh, will he mind- I am two sizes bigger when set free !
_________________
July 22, 2021
Poetry/Couplet/The Body Shaper ''Thing''
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1374-904-22
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, An Interesting Couplet
sponsor, Funom Makama, Judged 08/05/2021
Fifth Place
He lifted invisible horses
One fever-burnt son kept hallucinating
In bed beside him;
Picked them up and carried them downstairs and out the door
To soothe the boy.
He had the strength for that,
My father's father did.
Born by some unknown river
In the zero lands of Lithuania,
Brought to America an immigrant child
To grow up in a Pennsylvania coal town,
He fled, a refugee at 13, from those gravelike mines
To run down south to shelter in the Army,
Where he learned to build and fly
Those first open-cockpit planes,
Yo plunge unshielded through the open blue.
Everything he knew he taught himself.
Little time in any schoolhouse for him.
Yet he steeped himself in the thoughts of the mighty;
Plato, Aristotle, Shakespeare - all their company
Stood on his shelves and held converse with him.
He believed in the examined life, and did so with the best at the game;
When he saw the same need in his frail grandson
He applied the kind spurs to drive that thirst.
He lived an unplanned example of word and deed,
An unimagined shaper of lives.
He gave me the bittersweet thirst that cannot be slaked, yet always pleases
Perhaps as well, in time, the strength
To carry my own invisible horses
Down the stairs, and out the door.
When caught mid-flight
End to bloat against gravity
Thanks, rejection is not of the earth
My eyes are welling
I won’t hold back with shame
Even warriors often times loosen, weeping
A good mother’s breast thrust
Not in for the oldest trade
Gives the child, from infant, the best trust
The sexton is a pagan
Lushness of the hashish field
Makes his story from Canaan
Morals pillar nobility
But nature spares by –
Insofar as the choice is moderacy
Over me they seek to keep
They can shape me, me too a shaper
Just that I start a peep
A quest to solve the world
Challenged to fix my head
Get me defined – no word
Launch talks for luck
One screen sets parts
Grace, lone-stands, earns buck
Formless strife made me worry
An envoy made as of succubus
Made me awoke being sorry
He who sounded the gong
Has done it wrong
And rhythm’s lost in our song
The earth, about the Sun, rotates
Science, my house remains on its plot
Lies make the pupils dilate
Africa! Here some questions
Khartoum, Mogadishu, Malaria, HIV, Genocides . . . ?
Orients through Occident find me solutions
Muses – a kind that’s potent
Might make me hit the laureate’s podium
And be free of amateurish latent!
whirl …
where waters mingle -
the inky black that pulls down
swallows … enfolds …
the ballet breaks -
sun’s golden coins a-dancing,
birthing pixies to the brine
to draw the gaze with dazzled magic …
the glassy smooth that
dopplegangs a billowy azure and a
quivery, star-daubed vault …
the ruffled swells -
turning masts to pendulum poets,
ticking time as the hulls roll …
and rock … and roll …
and the foaming rage -
surf that breaks reefs to ruin
and howls at Calypso,
the salty sirens screaming at
her for just a taste of
jagged justice …
the seas roar and ebb and
sunder suns to ache
the rills run to the low to find them
and feed the confluences
water weaves and wells and works to
be the All of life -
the precious matter, miraculous
the shaper and sater and savior of
everything that actuates
yet …
the oceans, and washes, wild
and weeping heavens
in all their splendor and abundance
can not hope to accommodate
the love, sorrow, spirit, or
significance
of one single, solitary
child’s …
tear.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 27, 2024