Long Sigh of relief Poems
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Just in case you wondered...
Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy
regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore
alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge
(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...
Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)
getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.
insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten
pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...
Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...
Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent
return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous
analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby
microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.
To have dodged a bullet is heard by me as a clear soft symphony, it reminds me that all is a dramatized sigh of relief whether stressed, sad, annoyed, mad or worried, it all ends the same with the word that is second most heard than your name; “it is all going to be okay” whether in your head or said. To have dodged a bullet is the best kind of relief, either thought of or heard. Being told you have dodged a bullet is like someone whole willingly taking out the knife stabbed in your back you thought you could never remove until sane. To be told you have dodged a bullet is a moment of silence out of the few you rarely experience, the soft ringing in your ear, confused thoughts on how you got here, it is like the destination you so desired. To the hopeless butterflies flying away from my stomach, my terrible luck and the universe I relied too much on for comfort, I apologize. Still experiencing the comfort of the silence, life is still not over yet. With life being so unfortunate of course there's more stories to the questions I push into the back of my mind due to fear . To be loved is to be seen, and how am I capable of experiencing love if what they try to seek frightens me. Love is a beautiful thing, it's something that truly excites me. But so is my health and my love for individuality. Obsession turns into disgust,and dishonesty gives it life, whether playing into it or saying it. To the lies that are now dead. To the boy dressed nice holding the gun of a masked persona, I couldn't see the shades of heartbreak on his coat. Who would pay attention when being held at gunpoint? He missed his shot to a 3rd degree, to have dodged a bullet has given me a clear view, breathing in a fresh start away from the boy I thought I knew. “To have dodged a bullet” I can say it a million times and not think about that one horrible time. To have dodged a bullet is within itself one of the most beautiful lines i've been told that has healed my mental heath. Whether it was a lie to save my sanity, I will never forget the person who said it to me.
Side note: this poem, you could say, healed me while writing it, this was my closure. This is what kept me going. The reason as to why I wrote this happened in real time. I will never forget the girl who said this to me in a time of need. We weren't all that close either. Thank you.
DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.
There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane,
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children,
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband,
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron,
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron
And immediately,
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another,
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze,
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored
Hairpins, she was asleep,
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll
With colored pins,
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever,
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!
Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date entered: 2019/03/02
fertilization upon ovule
via spermatozoa automatically
gearing linkedin anticipated birth
especially upon confirmation conception
did sex seed
after numerous attempts dispelled dearth
as probable odds
finally wrought hardy sea men
to stoke the womb
spelling biological chances
that, fecund female will evince swollen girth
the longest time tested oven since humans
found warmth
amidst flint stoned sparked hearth
and fraught with utmost joy
at prospective parent hood
which, (lemme here
collective soulful sigh of relief)
that *****Sapiens
durability foretold tubby good
thenceforth extra mouth
to feed necessitated larder of food
which harvests
must be plenti full to appease gods,
and bank on siblings
to beget appreciable brood
hence existence extant for millennia
fastened tight like umbilical cord
sustaining potential life in utero
in due time dilating cervix will a ford
signal (predicated on natural bio rhythms),
whence that cub hoard will be a saving grace
(amazingly innate survival skills) noel lord
could ever conceive,
an instinctual attribute moored
within early forebears of modern mankind,
an explicit genetic haversack
microscopically pitch perfect (NON GMO,
gluten free trade) blend poured
with just the exact consistency,
flexibility, and resiliency
(in case a lion, tiger or bear roared)
as adrenaline pumped woman within family way
to escape let incubating progeny shored
when time and tide informed clandestine
cherished, fortified, prized oh ward
whence healthy birth of baby feted,
festooned with garlands engineered ahead
reflecting golden halo
akin to a ring of bright waters
thence new born and maternal figure
ferreted nested in feathered bed
which, didst double up when dread
locked spar ring human,
whence grim reaper got fed
another mortal, which body froze
with rigor mortis heavier like a led
zeppelin versus when person alive in stead
no heroic measures extant
when grim reaper came quick
advent chore of early primates could not treat nor trick
the scythe lent hooded body snatcher
as candle box didst flickr
burning down tallowed wick.
Are you ok?! Matt, asked as his eyes searched the dark. Fear gnawed at his spirit. “Yeah, I’m ok…wait!, I can’t feel my legs!”. His girlfriend cried. “I can’t feel my legs, Hon! It’s like they’re not there!” He leaned over, holding on to her, feeling for her legs. Then he breathe a sigh of relief, that they were fine. “Just lean on me, Baby”. “Where’s everybody?” she asked. One minute there were others walking, driving in cars, street and car lights lit the streeet, now they stood in pitch black darkness, confused and afraid of the unknown.
“I think we should sit right here, out of the path until we figure out what’s
happening”, he suggested. “Yeah, I guess". But what's with my legs?” “I
remember there was a bench a few feet back just alongside of the sidewalk, near
an oak tree”. He took out his cell phone, it would reflect some light and nothing
happened, it was dead. His nerves were rattled by the situation. “Look, we’re going
to have to feel our way towards that bench, Honey. Can you feel the street
beneath you now?” He asked. “No, I can’t”. She replied, her voice shaky. “Ok, here
we go.” Matt picked her up in his strong arms and with ginger steps, began to walk
in the opposite direction, using his left foot to feel alongside the concrete for the
wooden bench. With electricity this would take a few seconds, however, this
seemed like it would take forever. Finally his Nike touched the edge of the bench
and he turned to place her down gently.
Grateful that was over, his mind began to focus once more. Standing up, his eyes
searching the darkness seemingly endless, he realized that it would be
impossible to walk back home, as maneuvering the streets was something he could
do by himself, but not if he carried her in his arms. Silence ruled the darkness
with each passing moment. It felt like they were in a vacuum. None of the usual
cricket sounds you hear on warm summer night could be heard. He could tell she
was scared by her voice tone. Her whispers were hardly audible; just enough for
him to hear as he stood close to her. He sat down finally to rest. He'd lost track of
time and hours seemed to pass in dead silence, without one flicker of light.
~*~
For Matt's "Finish The Dream" Contest
Cont'd on Pg II
Soul stripped.
Flesh ripped.
Hope lost.
Time moves on not heeding the cost.
Hurt buried aside in the ditch.
Anger flares like a flip of the switch.
Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.
Soul? The soul dancing??? How cruel...
Mouth ajar in disbelief.
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.
The beat of the soul continues...
Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.
Soul keeps dancing...
Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger,
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.
Mind perks up seeking to undermine...
Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.
The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...
"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.
Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...
The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.
The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"
The Christmas when Santa got Fat
Kris Kringle rubbed his belly; he was feeling really hungry indeed
Mrs Claus had put him on a diet of what he felt was chicken feed
Brussel Sprouts and Lima Beans and lots of Spinach Green
Life’s unfair when you’re Santa Claus and still your wife is mean.
So what if he‘d piled on the pounds and his belly was very round
He could surely fit down any chimney without the slightest sound
Oh well he thought its Christmas eve , children would put out some snacks
Milk, Cookies and Candy Cane would put his tummy back on track.
He got into his silver sleigh and heaved a mighty sigh
Rudolph, , Prancer and Vixen waved to Mrs. Claus goodbye
He was really very hungry the clouds had begun to look like food
Then again if he asked his reindeers, they would be so very rude
They all agreed with Mrs. Claus, Santa was rounder in his seat
They hadn’t even let him carry his goodie bag of sweets
The last place on his list was the house of Jill and Joe
Aha he fit down the chimney and he heaved a mighty ho
He placed the doll and toy train right underneath the tree
He saw the milk and cookies and rubbed his hands in glee
He ate and ate the yummy snacks till his pants felt very tight
Cheerful now he began to feel Christmas Eve was a jolly good night
They he tried to climb up the chimney but heavens he couldn’t get back
He wriggled and squirmed but had to agree his middle was very fat
Rudolph, Prancer , Vixen he very softly called
You’ll have to pull get me out of here I can’t seem to move at all
The reindeers whinnied suspiciously what Santa felt was a nasty laugh
He now agreed sheepishly why his food had been cut down to half
They heaved and with a mighty yell, Santa came flying out
It was a good thing it was still midnight for no one had heard him shout
When they reached back home the reindeers gleefully recounted the tale
When he saw Mrs. Claus’ angry face, he began to get very pale
But when she gave her sweet belly laugh, Santa heaved a sigh of relief
It’s a good thing they got you out my dear before they thought you were a thief!
It’s a stricter diet for you this year before you revisit Jane and Joe
Or else instead of the chimney, you will have to ask to use the door!.
Innocent victims cry in the dark
Forced to take refuge in that park
Such wrath began to fall
For I shall never forget the day I got that call
Silence and sorrow heavy in the air
It was like nothing I could ever compare
Days turned to weeks
Thousands take dwelling beseeching for any relief
Thousands left waiting in utter disbelief
I was supposed to be deployed
Yet an injury kept me here
My fellow workers attacked at the dome
Traumatized and in complete fear some had to return home
I feel so guilty
So guilty I should have been there
Innocent victims crying
Innocent victims now dying
An event so devastating
The stench of death filled the air
We could not fathom something so unfair
I counseled innocent victims
Still sticking strong to their convictions
I still recall every haunting voice
Confused, frustrated and displaced
Innocent victims left without a choice
Families torn apart on that day
The day the levees broke
Families losing all hope
My job was to help them cope
Innocent victims left to cry in a park
Fear increases when light turns to dark
Like declaring Martial Law
Lives washed away, all humanity started to fall
On the dawn of a new day
So joyous… even an atheist bowed her head to pray
The media coverage was what really brought aid
Oh no!
Politicians began to look bad so of course something had to be done
Late in action but at least more help had come
There is still work to be had
Many left permanently sad
Entering in hundreds of names to locate the missing or those declared dead
Debriefed each night just to clear my head
I still remember so clearly the desperation and panic
When Katrina came in August
Life turned frantic
Overwhelming emotions; I felt completely manic
I will never forget the victims I helped in such grief
I hope when the bodies were identified; I wish just some…
Some could give a sigh of relief
It is important we do not forget those still suffering
The child who didn’t get the last kiss
The parents who will be dearly missed
We all have the ability to help
1,836 people dead!
Work together and ease the sorrow…
Another disaster could just happen tomorrow
Make time to reach out
So many innocent victims still in need
We all are capable of doing a good deed
You can make it happen;
One soul your soul can live that beautiful morning when
a sigh of relief will wake you up today older a shorter life
than yesterday due to the changes that occur as results of the
passing time todays journey will heal all your bleeding wounds.
If you don't fly with a strong personality you will be stuck
in what you know and not discover what you don't know.
Create a light to shine that would venture with your shadow
while getting older to not hide behind it.
A vision that can wake up with you to move you forward grow
in your depth to become present in time living up everyday
in the same pattern is giving up on change and living moments
are very short this is the moment to be strong seize that given
moment set yourself loose even sense your sadness walk to wait
for the midnight hour, count your stars talk to them tell them
to be here tomorrow when you come back.
An illusion that you can accept the root of unconsciousness that
can light up your night to touch the sky as you need not to predict
the unpredictable and leave your damages behind to advance let
your soul be very truthful to you and became addicted to life
start visioning a light in your depth that you`ll never shut off.
Create choices to identify what`s in your mind now & that
includes emotions to sleep by you. Ask yourself why you wanted
to hide, why? from whom? find the answer you know what ?
silence is your pride change is your goal respect is what you are
looking for and that is what makes you so special.
A vision that can tap into your worst days to deprive you from
feeling vulnerable save your life to not hurt yourself listen to
the ticking clock a handle that remind you of the time passing
don't grow up unhappy like most people do lift up yourself
esteem as it doesn't fit picking up the pieces in a deserted island
walk through a path where you can make a connection even
with nature connect and create and walk.
You can make it happen;
Listen to your heart today as you don't want to live
anymore in a state of fear and want.
Terry
7/3/2013
In the Church, I met a woman quite old,
Bending under the weight of years.
I wonder what made her steal my attention.
Was it her struggle to hold back her tears?
Despite her frail stooping figure
She seemed to have an indomitable will.
Defeating all infirmities of age, she stood,
With a face though sad, yet tranquil and still.
Strange enough, she recalled to me,
The determined but decrepit old man beside the pool
Who Wordsworth had once encountered,
Gathering leeches so scarce, but resolute and cool
I watched the woman humbly prostrate,
And feebly rise and straighten her aged form,
Surrendering herself at the feet of God,
Imploring grace for life’s little tasks to perform.
In her gnarled hands, she firmly held a prayer book,
With the other supporting her frail figure on a staff,
And with a sigh of relief, she left the church,
As if her afflictions were reduced to half.
As the Congregation dispersed in all directions
She feebly walked to her accustomed haunt.
At the rear side of the church was a Cemetery unkempt,
Where the ancestors slept, devoid of earthly cares and want.
Among all the tombstones in marble and granite
Erected in memory of the kindred dead,
There was a newly dug up grave,
That stood aloof as a heap of mud.
I watched the old woman approach this spot,
Where she knelt down with a calm demeanor.
Her withered hands clasped together in piety,
And her eyes closed in silent prayer.
With a convulsive motion of her lips
She rose and once more knelt down,
As if searching for a face so dear
Whose memory she could never ever drown.
Within that mound, slept her only son,
Who died in his prime, a month before,
Leaving his widowed mother behind,
To brave the shafts stinging, so sore.
As Time by seconds and minutes ticked away
The bereaved mother stood up at last,
And heavily yet quietly walked away,
Leaving the one who was once her own part.
In sadness, her faith sheds light in her cloistered heart
She has a calm assurance that though her son is gone,
In another realm, free from all tribulations and pain
He walks immortal in radiant bliss in the light of dawn!
April. 4. 2023
~ Placed Fifth~
Death of a Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker