Long Slip in Poems
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I see a problem with religion,
It's like a competition,
You can't just slip in.
They want you to fit in.
To help heal your sin.
"You can stay, on One Condition."
Tything an imposition,
Sects creating division,
Trying to see who will win.
What if GOD has a different mission?
Just listen to your intuition,
Not their newest edition,
Or blindly follow tradition.
Have the ambition,
Become a new addition,
A true Magician.
An end to all suspicion.
Put fear in remission.
God's the physician,
In the perfect position,
To bring dreams to fruition.
Come join the Coalition,
Life is the auditon,
Your the Musician.
Love is the ammunition,
To defeat opposition.
This is Your rendition,
You give it definition,
And GOD gets the recognition.
The one and only condition.
Leave all your sadness on my doorstep,
To sit with me, weary as a shadow,
When you stealthily slip in your dear memory in the night,
And let my tears collect, pearls on the damp face of time.
Let them flow, a river of wreaths that flood my chest,
To disperse the closed echo of that gate entwined with roots of regret,
Where trees, with branches that once danced, now break in silence,
Under the weight of a love that unfurled like smoke into a sober sky.
Leave the sadness behind you, do not carry it as a shroud,
Set it free, among hearts forever seeking and souls yearning for the infinite.
Do not burden your steps with the shadow of memories, guarding your vagrancy,
Let that consuming fire transform into the ashes from which we are reborn.
Capture this sadness between your fingers, make it a canvas that caresses,
Woven with the gentle contours of thoughts, with every pass through the world,
And when your heart cries out, when you are compelled by the yearning for unspoken words,
Gather the sadness and return home, lay it down on the altar of reliving.
In the evening shadows, we, two devotees of Eros, silently join our melancholy, voiceless,
In secrecy from the world, against the grain of fate, starved for the memory of a shared refuge.
We'll take the sadness and transform it into a dance of whispers, wafting aimlessly,
Across the deserts of silence, following an astral thread, without a map, compass, or needs.
Promise me you will stay, shoulder to shoulder, tender wall for my ravaged heart,
In an eternity of moments, to love beyond the futile days we count,
To forget the undeciphered number of years, as stars forget to count their moments of twinkling,
As long as, on the ship of life, we find each other, two castaways landing on each other's heartstrung shores.
O! Slip in between! The Dukes of Darkness,
In this cold part of the year!
The Baron of Night!
The Baron of Wind!
The Baron of Seeds!
When the Copper Trumpet
Bells out, bright and clear!
And men brood the quiet,
Men who have sinned,
And recall their dark deeds.
Is it fear that breeds guilt,
Or is it guilt, that breeds fear?
I don't know!
O! Find ways beneath! The cloud-bearing, bronzed skies
In November, in the chill!
O, Brother, my brother!
And father of three,
A brother who reads!
In your hoary books
In the depths of your beer
Do you find solace,
And does Peace draw near?
I don't know!
There is a wondrous calling
When the falling flakes of snow
Come skirling through the afternoon
And bless me as I go,
And that calling's to remember,
All the ordinary men,
Who fought, December to December
That the world might live, again.
All the men who stopped a bullet,
All the men who fired one
And the women who remember one
They will not see again!
O! Arrive today! Returners home!
Who have lived days without cheer!
The untitled men!
The bakers and smiths!
The prayers of creeds!
Is it faith that bred courage,
Or courage that bled deeds?
I don't know!
(written with a grateful thanks, to all the Vets, to my father, 2nd Lieutenant, Douglas Fairchild, USMC, Col. Earl Hinners, Seaman Guy Hudson, and Master Sergeant Lendelle Adams, who have all gone on, now)
as unaware, as i grab for a limb and these are new steps
beveled egdes a quarter off the half mark
rusg, rush, come on hurry, cooler lines be me in blue true
and if u see my steps, she couldnt have timed me if she tried too
moving at a knot i conquer ground, and that apex, as i say,
i assure you that she still mliles away
i slip in the deepest thoughts, as i say it should pay to break shells,
but back then seashells were a staple, i fasten theses words to the path in tyhe woods , its red tagged, well its nice , that means im tag out
swing sets, high prices , cheap for the rich man, my sentiments my reminder
my demionsions completely different then yours, my ideas be a big as wreck
female be the oppisite end, i am off my mark now,. dead on zone, reddots boy they are accurate, jacked one in , rthe metal be a sweet spot for flaws to hide
His thoughts a noose round the neck
That betrays progress into better ray,
Prisoner self-chained to surreal wreck
Of diamond burdens beyond their say.
His pulses another swift drift away
From lanes of wit and clear sense;
Obstinate caudal slip in weird sway
Toward gaols well inevitable hence.
His bias-bankrupted soul's whims
Far defy practicality and her gists;
Tagging kettle black as old pot dims
In his eyes its erst death-dark twists.
His lobe preened to nab things null,
Throbs to tap vocular waves vacant
As shards of a myths-neutered skull;
More void and louder than airs want.
And his appetites stirred wild like tides
Over tempestuous seas wayward spill;
Milk's cream along filthy paths guides,
Honey's decoys his glances snare still.
Oooh, Andrea, can we take a walk,
because my time is passing
and we need to talk.
Seems the days grow shorter
when the ice melts in
And we don't know if we're gonna fall in.
But there's a place we can go
the same old yard we both know.
And the rivers are divine,
you can love the world...anytime.
Oooh Andrea, we need a break
withe people rushing, I can't slip in
But if I hold you close, then I know
we'll make it to the next show.
And I will be with you
and both of us can't wait.
By the shores of destiny, by the indigo of fate.
Oooh Andrea, if I said I was wrong
could it make you see?
All the joy. you give to me.
Bringing home a loving gift,
to the last I'll ever kiss.
My heart, my soul a peddler's treat,
for the world itself to feast.
Be then to me, a lasting note,
of sipping drinks and Christmas snow.
I heard the sound of fading doe, and Ray and me.
So hard it was to eat the dirt,
the peasants tilled; for what it's worth.
And now my sins be washed in blood,
and now my mind be drowned in flood.
Elijah the earth, the crop to be sown
when the grimmest nuances are left alone
Begone and steal away some grace
and kiss the memory of her face.
Begin again and all we've done
is passed in time and lost in fun.
To saturate a living a dream
and crush the last word.
We sit afloat our tropic boat
and think we're never heard.
The type is set at zero
and the fall is set to find
a way to get through the mountain,
so we don't have to climb.
It's the way that we sit awake,
the way the words still rhyme.
Like a flowered bird in paradise,
a maiden on the Rhine.
Photographs of the lillies,
pictures of us all.
the projections of our vision
until we break the wall.
Just roll your eyes like you used to
and fly like we are one.
Grip the sighs and the gleaming
of the crystal light to come.
To saturate like a raindrop,
and melt into the breeze.
While we sit idle by the fire,
all in vain: we freeze. We freeze.
Humidity
I called my love on the phone, to say hi!
Duplicating the moments around the sky
With not many things to say :-)
I asked about the climate per say
A nice way to converse,
Nonstop heat throughout the universe
Smiling, without many words to share
I stroked the phone, describing the hot air.
"It’s getting hot outside"
I'm just here Enjoying the sunrise."
--Smooth and slow the steam in Aspen has me beat
--Suddenly 99.9 degrees was the new rising heat
I chuckled and added, -looks like 100% chance of rain
Keeping myself inside, with a wetness calming sane
A new flash flood coming in
Reminding him how easy it is to slip in mud
I continued to talk and toke
Then he joined me with a joke.
Replying, with a tease.
"Wow!"
I feel the wetness over there
I would not mind taking a dive in THAT flood
Don't worry I know how to handle slippery mud
---from back to front.
It's looking gloomy out here without my love
Down here in Mandalay it drips a lot
Pure satisfaction when the climate in Aspen gets hot
Could you be kind in sending a picture of how wet it is down there?
I will call you back when the drizzling stops over here.
By: P.D. ( please judge the name, not the poem )
THE POWER OF KINDNESS
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Contest Judged: 10/8/2025 3:41:00 AM
( 3rd Place )
Written: October 1, 2025
A kind word can slip in quietly,
like sunlight through a dusty window,
softly touching a corner of the heart
you thought no one noticed.
A smile shared in passing
a hand held for a moment,
"thanks for being exactly you"
these are the sparks
that can set a heavy day aglow.
Kindness isn’t loud or grand;
it doesn’t need applause.
It’s in the gentle pause;
the patient ear,
the courage to care
when no one is watching.
And sometimes
one word—just one…
can turn someone’s world
from gray to bright,
from lonely to known,
from weary to whole.
So speak gently.
Act kindly.
For each small ripple
can reach farther than
you’ll ever know,
and the love you send out
always comes back around.
Dear God,
I wish to complain,
for the pain I have had in your name,
as the Master of all
it is really your call
to ensure that our life’s not in vain.
We believe you say “don’t live in sin”
but your actions leave you on a limb,
as example to all
all the things I recall
that you did made pure evil slip in.
Tell why you let my daughter die
tell why you removed my right eye
and to add further pain
just what was your game
when a cataract you then did try.
Oh I nearly forgot you decreed
and with cancer you planted the seed.
Did the piece of my arm
they removed to save harm
give Celestial pleasure indeed.
Thank heaven(?) for my fellow man
who has helped to preserve what I am.
For your every sick deed
to make my pain your creed.
was defeated in no way ‘you’ can.
So really as ‘Master of All’,
I’m complaining that you make the call
to treat all Mankind
in a way that’s not kind
with the things that on us you befall.
I would ask that you soon mend your ways
and listen as everyone prays
for a chance in this life
to be free of strife
and let all of us all see better days.
Dear God,
I worship your name
for helping me bear all the pain.
As the Master of all
it is on you that I call
when I feel that my life is in vain.
Although sometimes, I fall into sin,
it is you who then guides me within
and helps me recall
that there’s goodness in all
if you don’t let the evil slip in.
As my child’s loss made me want to cry,
in the pain as I lost my right eye,
when cancer found me
as they cut it free
it was your love that helped me get by.
And then when I near lost my sight
as a cataract gave cause for fright
with you ever near
I faced all my fear
as you helped the doctor put it right.
Thank Heaven for all of your care
that has helped me, my life to repair.
For whenever I’m sick
or I’m beat with a stick
it is then that I find you are there.
I worship you, Master of All
and will follow wherever you call
as you guide Mankind
from the evil we find
and on us all your blessing befall.
I know I should follow your way
and ask for the strength when I pray
to live good and true
and be more like you
from your pathway I never must stray.
Ivor G Davies
The draft by the door can only mean…
That there is someone behind the screen.
They claimed it was just a gust of wind.
That wandered in.
But I know that they can be sneaky.
Suddenly the house is creaky.
I didn’t notice before…
That there is a crater in the floor.
There is a crack on the ceiling too.
Was that wall always painted blue?
The draft by the door.
Ate at everything and chewed at my core.
The draft by the door can not be seen by them.
But I know from within.
I know from without.
That he is going to shout.
I didn’t open the door or sit on the windowsill.
He says he will seep into the basement, still.
The draft by the door.
I should have fixed it before 4:00.
But now this entity can slip in.
Into the kitchen.
He takes a bite of cheese from the fridge.
I think that created a bridge.
He claims he likes how the door has a draft.
It’s like when you’re drowning and handed a raft.
The draft by the door is actually not too bad.
He tells me he’s not mad.
As long as I don’t fix anything at all.
He will help me whenever I call.
The draft by the door can let anyone into my heart.
This door cannot be taken apart.
This door cannot be replaced.
So that the chill cannot be erased.