Long Sounder Poems
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Mum said "birds of a feather flock together"
so I searched for a man who liked similar weather
until Dad stressed "opposites attract"
and I tried to determine just what I lacked
"Small packages", Mum said, "held the best things"
so I looked for a humble guy with diamond rings
until Dad said I should find a real go-getter
because it's a fact "the bigger the better"
When I fancied a guy from amongst the herds
Mum said "action speaks louder than words"
but Dad said this advice should be ignored
because "the pen is mightier than the sword"
Mum believed men should be kept closely entwined
because of the saying "out of sight out of mind"
Dad urged I give them space and make them ponder
because "absence makes the heart grow fonder"
I worried how I'd react to being charmed
Mum emphasized "forewarned is forearmed"
The male perspective gave my ego a hit –
Dad said "cross that bridge if you come to it"
When I found love the saying Mum liked to push
was "one in the hand's worth two in the bush"
Dad said "there's always time to be the faithful wife"
and persuaded me "variety was the spice of life"
I struggled at courting and was getting old
but "you're never too old to learn" I was told
However my confidence was hit for a six
when Dad said "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"
"If first you don't succeed try, try again"
this was Mum's attitude toward courting men
Dad's radically differed of course –
he told me not to "flog a dead horse"
My parent's advice couldn't have been sounder
for I found a genuine all rounder
but I hope he can live with the reality
I now have a split personality.
From David's unpublished book entitled 'Poems for Wedding Receptions & Poems Definitely NOT for Wedding Receptions
I think about intelligence
And wonder why we think our due
Is sanctioned by our own IQ
That natural inheritance
Compels us by unbending laws
To evolutionary cause
That beggars to irrelevance
The truth that brains can be a threat
That make it easy to forget
The most compelling evidence
That intellect may well provide
A rationale for venal pride
Displacing sounder temperaments
With logical proficiency
Ignoring self-deficiency
And cultivates intolerance
With vanity incredulous
And tidy, hidden prejudice
That blithely leads to negligence
Denying those less capable
In contexts inescapable
I much prefer the elegance
Of caring for the other guy
Of answering a helpless cry
Of principled benevolence
That intellect cannot be taught
Beyond the wit of reasoned thought
I think about intelligence
That natural inheritance
That beggars to irrelevance
The most compelling evidence
Displacing sounder temperaments
And cultivates intolerance
That blithely leads to negligence
I much prefer the elegance
Of principled benevolence
Written July 5, 2018
Hold on to yourselves
It’s going to be a long one
I forgive you but I do not
Remember me
Or have you forgotten
I am the soul of Martha Carrier
I am the cold amongst un-forgiven barriers
If life were as smooth as fairytales
I’d lust with Arial
Young Goodman Brown
Trust is often dreamt upon
But never truly found
Marry me not
For Religion is often a foolish sound
I am the trust that never funds
The river that seas beyond and will never bond
I am the tissue that forever mends our scars visible
I am the light that shines only in hopes that my shadow may dim
I am, I am, Sam, I am not
Though my summers shall hoist the founding days
Oh I am
I am an artist amongst poets severely recognized
I am the misery, the matter that pours from within your eyes
I am the cake, the plate,
The smile which your child exhibits on common days
I am the Shakespeare within in lyrics
The only god to bring about tragedies to treasure
With out the theatre in play
The hollow that sleeps not to wish nor weep upon tomorrow
I am the founder of nothing
The whereabouts of that slave in Sounder
Who found more than nothing
Will you remind me when my days have finally dissolved?
Upon my graven lay I may receive but random applauds
I am the love you lost
The dove
Your lost savior
Stricken upon a cross
Get over yourself world
My cape
My suede
My vengeance
Receive my blade
Farewell love
All is well
Jesus will love you completely, forever being by your side
Jesus will call often to you and me so one can't easily hide
Often aiding His children in so helping them along their way
He'll always find lost woman and men despite what they say
The more Jesus you take in the more joy one will encounter
You will not always win, but you will, be better than you were
Sounder sleep may also come for it is He who grants us peace
Doesn't work in thinking it's dumb or someone's trying to fleece
Be careful of outside influences that try in drawing you away
The devil's snares are all like nooses leaving the soul in decay
But all one needs do is to ask and Jesus will crush them all
Requires some simple tasks in so requiring you hear His Call
Some roads may be very very long while others may be short
The Lord can only keep you strong if each day to Him you report
Your reward is too big to fit here nor could anyone talk that fast
But if this still isn't all completely clear, well, you won't be the last
Matthew 20:16
“So the last shall be first, and the first last:
for many be called, but few chosen.”
I
Where, oh where is Virginia Dare*,
No one can find her anywhere.
Her disappearance is the very worst,
I guess that's what comes from being the first.
*Virginia Dare was born on Aug. 18, 1587 in Roanoke Colony, Virginia, the first child born in the New World to English parents. Both the colony and all its inhabitants…80 men, 17 women, and 11 children…disappeared mysteriously, and no traces have ever been found.
II
Amelia Earhart* flew away
And hasn't been seen
To this very day.
Her goal was to make it to Paris in style,
But got only as far as a small desert isle.
*Presumed to have crashed on Howland Island in the Central Pacific Ocean, Amelia disappeared on July 2, 1937. According to a 2015 news article, her remains may have been found and identified.
III
And Jimmy Hoffa*,
Of course it's just hearsay,
Is fertilizing a field
In New York or New Jersey.
The reason for doing him in was excused,
The mob made him an offer,
And Jimmy refused.
*He was heavily involved with the mob-controlled Teamsters Union. He disappeared on July 30, 1975.
IV
The mystery in London
That continues a gripper,
Scotland Yard still doesn't know
Who was Jack the Ripper.*
Was he maybe a royal, a doctor, a rounder?
At least now the prostitutes are all sleeping sounder.
*He terrorized London from 1888-1891. the term "Ripperology" was coined to describe the study and analyses of the Ripper cases. There are over 100 theories about his identity.
V
Another conundrum
Hashed o'er many a snifter,
Concerning Sasquatch, or Bigfoot*,
Is he a myth or a mythter?
It's widely agreed that he's really quite scary,
His general description is big, tall, and hairy.
*We can also add Yeti to the list.
VI
Last, but not least,
There's the Anasazi.*
Did they self-destruct
Like a kamikaze?
Or did they decide to quit stone-age labors
And move to the city like most of their neighbors?
*This is the historical Navajo name meaning "Ancient Ones" who inhabited the 4-Corners region…Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado…up until sometime in the 13th century, archaeologists surmise. Why they abandoned their towns and cities is still a mystery.
Look out for a Scally getting pally in an alley
Or a boy from a Welsh Valley going doolally
Watch out for a Gadabout in polished brogue
Keep tally of reprobates mates out on a rally
The Rogue knack seems to be back in vogue
King of the bling castle that Rascal debacle sparkle
Why possibly be a flunky if you could instead be
Punky freaky funky sneaky spunky cheeky monkey
Wastrel with Scoundrel and a Ne’er Do Well revel
Grins sparking at sins of fancy dans and Harridans
Twins of long pins dance spin with larking Larrikins
Drifter Imp or Grifter pimp do scrimp always a cad
Unravel dishevel like a Devil from that lower level
Had by a champ Scamp Artful Dodger to crafty lad
Fond of Rapscallion swearing Vagabond & medallion
Delightful tomfoolery wearing well frightful jewellery
Drunken Scallywag swagbag brag of sunken galleon
Blighter sounder Bounder all rounder fighter & stallion
Villain scouring vulture devouring souring culture carrion
Tyro on giro Rake or Tyke on the take always a Herbert
Hasty helluva pasty fella but tasty & stellar as fresh turbot
Can't cellar or curb it not a hermit more animal than kermit
Shan’t enslave a fave Knave or Snake who crave a sherbet..
Do I need normal shoes equipped with cleats?
I’m not as steady as I used to be.
The town in which I live has narrow streets: ...
So where’s this poem going? Bear with me!
I’ve always had an eye for pretty girls.
Polite and non-aggressive, if I spied
a fetching face, or shoulders draped in curls,
I used to cross the street. Once on her side,
I wouldn’t pester, leer, or be a pain:
I’d walk on by, not try for conversation.
My face a mask of diffident disdain,
I’d let her dominate the situation.
She’d probably ignore me (often did):
but what if there’s a question? Way to go!
She’s looking for a store that’s selling squid,
or just a joint to grab a cup of Joe!
Striking up a friendship on the hop –
it sometimes works in movies, so it can’t
be fiction! I could steer her to the shop,
all charm and bumble – humbly Hugh Grant!
You never know your luck. A great romance
could flourish for a self-asserting hero!
but though I offered Cupid half a chance,
it never happened once. I’m batting zero.
And now, back to the narrow-streeted city,
whose sidewalks are beyond an urban joke.
We need some kind of citizens’ committee:
the grouting’s gone, the slabs are old and broke,
and cars encroach upon them when they park.
I told you I’m no longer twinkle-toed.
It’s safer (and not merely after dark)
to walk right down the middle of the road!
The other day, I realised I’m old.
I shunned the sidewalk, barbers’ shops and churches
to stride where sandals score a sounder hold,
and grandpa’s feet can get a better purchase.
The flagstones to my right gave up a treat:
a lovely woman – no, in fact – a wonder!
I didn’t shift position in the street,
and Fate could not create a tryst. I shunned her!
The road felt good: I opted for the same,
the surface safe and welcoming and slick:
I chose security and felt no shame,
the asphalt more appealing than the chick!
I spied a valley low
Across the road from the cemetery
A Columbus monkey swinging by
The trees of the vale
Stood tall and forlorn
Observing the crematorium
Covered in light gray smoke
As morning traffic streamed on by
Giraffe reached for the tallest bough
And I thought I heard the leopards growl
And by the road was a troop of baboons
As people walked on by
And a few yards away,
Was the army garrison
A regiment trooped on by,
As a sounder was grazing idly by
And people walked on by
Yes I spied a valley low
Where life carried on slow
Across the road from the cemetery
Where footsteps were dull and hollow
A funeral procession was going on
Yes the trees of the vale
Were tall and forlorn
The sun hung high and lorn
As were the clouds of dawn
As I drove along that road
Away from that valley low
In my family garden, there grows a lovely rose.
A beautiful blossom who helps rid me of my woes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I dedicate these couplets to my sister, Frances Rose.
Dearest Sister, Fran,
As children, it was you and me. We only had each other.
Never really felt a connection with our older brother.
Younger than I, by little more than just a year,
you're always there to comfort me in my times of fear.
With my marriage at its end, I was filled with sorrow,
You came to me and said, "I've a shoulder you can borrow."
You rescued me, when in the night 'he' broke my hand.
You are my cool water when I cross the desert sand.
Without you by my side I would have fallen apart.
You held me close when you saw the condition of my heart.
I'm the big sister who should be looking after you,
but you wear the angel wings when I'm feeling blue.
You never make me feel ashamed by saying, "I told you so."
So I'm writing you this couplet poem just so you'll know.
No matter how many times I stumble and I fall,
you bend and pick me up so I never have to crawl.
You are my umbrella when the rain pours down,
my fairy godmother when I'm in need of a gown.
You are my life raft when in the sea I flounder.
You reason with me until my mind is sounder.
You are my protector from those who lie,
Give me strength when our loved ones die.
When others turn their backs and don't seem to care
I know you'll be at my side. You've always been there.
You dry my tears and then bring me to laughter.
And for all you do, I'll be grateful forever after.
If I ask you to do me a favor,
You smile and say, "Sure, what flavor?'
Much more than just a friend...that's a sad cliché.
There is only one more thing that I have to say.
Because you're the only one who has ever really understood,
I love you far beyond the sharing of our beautiful sisterhood.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lin Lane ~ December 18th 2015
Sibling Contest ~ Eve Roper
He was grizzled, intimidating, the original Viking all in black.
We were fearful, tearful, he was frightened us. We felt lack.
Is he a Viking? A Trojan? A Greek? A devil not clearly seen?
We did not know, so we reported this stranger to our darling queen.
Our queen was not afraid of anything, we had seen this before.
She summoned him to court, but he disappeared, gone forevermore.
We pondered this stranger with blue eyes the rest of our life.
He was a battle of one, scaring us soundly. We all felt the strife.
He was Celtic, a pagan, a man with battle and death on his mind.
He was horrible, a meanie, nothing like our loving sweet kind.
Some said his name was unmentionable, so they would never tell.
One thing for sure, this curious stranger was straight out of hell.
The story of him grew until it could not be contained, alive in the air.
He killed with his bare hands. His ebony coats were made of a bear.
He was a hermit, a rounder, a sounder, a man to be avoided and feared.
We love the stories of him. They are camp fire songs too, many endeared.