Long Spice Poems
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(Author’s note: This poem is a humorous satire on how a modern media mentality would view the story of Christ’s Ascension.)
The Ascension (with Rewrites)
By Mark D. Stucky
Look!
Up in the sky!
Not a bird.
Certainly no plane.
It’s super God-man!
Victor over gravity
as well as the grave!
The ascension was levitation
without benefit of special effects,
foreshadowed by walking,
without sinking,
on slippery water molecules
while strolling on the sea in a storm.
Miracles of physics.
Mysteries of motives.
Why leave just then?
Why leave in that way?
You canceled your ministry story arc too soon.
Disciples wished you had stayed for another season.
Think of the additional episodes untold and unsold!
You made a flashy exit, for sure,
but to a tiny audience share.
Why not soar spectacularly
over cheering crowds of thousands
and jump-start church conversions during lift-off?
Why not hover over those foolish Pharisees
and, with shock and awe,
rain fireballs down their open mouths?
That would also spice up the sequel.
The Book of Acts would need revisions,
and screenwriters would savor doing rewrites.
Your story could have been a blockbuster,
but you work in mystifying ways,
and your ways are not Hollywood ways.
(First published in Soul-Lit, Fall/Winter 2022. See also my poem "God’s on Mute.")
(Image by Josh Eckstein on Unsplash.com.)
The earth is like a precious jewel
Full of majestic colours and all
Real mysterious in many ways
Look around you, at the abundance He’s made
Nature’s varieties, wonders and spice
If earth be His pedestal
What must Heaven be like?
It must be spectacular, golden and bright
Can’t think of a better place
To dream of tonight
There have been many messages
From the Angels of light
Telling of its beauty and sheer delight
Flowers of colours never seen before
Golden transparent glazed glass floors
Gates made from pearls of the purest white
If earth be His pedestal
What must heaven be like?
It must be spectacular, golden and bright
Can’t think of a better place
To dream of tonight
Beautiful rivers, clear as crystal
Living waters flowing, so mystical
Leaves for healing, on exotic tree’s
The tree of life, standing magnificently
Fountains and springs, wonderful sites
If earth be His pedestal
What must heaven be like?
It must be spectacular, golden and bright
Can’t think of a better place
To dream of tonight
This magical city, my second home
That’s what I dream of, when I’m all alone
With mystical creatures of every kind
Imagination so pretty, no sense of time
This place is heaven, it’s out of sight
It earth be His pedestal
What must Heaven be like?
It must be spectacular, golden and bright
Can’t think of a better place
To dream of tonight
© Copyright KC.Leake
9th May 2015
All Rights Reserved
A Seasoning of Scent
Each season wears the scent of its own seasoning
A signature perfume – wafting spice that beckons
Awakening
When my memories come out of hiding shadows
For misty autumn Sunday mornings when a bouquet
Of frying bacon and brewing coffee play tag
To rush up the stairs to look for dreamers missed by the dawn;
Titillating the deep recesses of amnesia
With a sachet of floral elegance
Gathered up in spring days of sweet Daphne’s mood
As apple blossom aromas drift on vernal billowing -
A lilac scented ballet and spring rain on dry earth
Or linen sheets dried on the line –
Alluring incense of roasting turkey or simmering stewpots
Rushing through icy nights of early twilight
When falling leaves give up their essence -
Aromatic balm, fanned by cinnamon and nutmeg,
Flavoring ambrosial apples
In teasing allure of fresh cut pine and fir –
Bayberry candles drifting invitation
To frolic through captivating potpourris
Of holiday cookies from the oven
Teasing from waiting anticipation
The smell of new fallen snow
Or bergamot’s balm on a winter afternoon
When hot cocoa memories sashay through recollections
Embossed in flashbacks of new mown grass
For the boys of summer or watching clouds
Bathed in tones of copper – wet dogs and towels
Sending up a strong whiff of summer
Fanned by salt spray remnants, barbecue grills
And ozone’s thundering incense –
The anamneses of dark chocolate to entice a lover’s heart
Drawing me back into a sacred aura
Elusive, unidentifiable, beckoning me with bouquet of grace
From the eternal perfumery
3-25-21
Contest: Favorite Scents
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
I was 'round fourteen when the charms of girls began to beckon,
And was about fifteen when I had my first date, I'd reckon.
Way back then there were certain rituals to be observed,
Some of which left me quite bereft and somewhat unnerved!
The evening must be perfect so I wore a suit and tie.
Shoes were shined and greasy Vitalis I'd liberally apply.
Peach fuzz was plucked and I fairly reeked of Old Spice.
The car was washed and waxed to further her entice!
This too was her first date and things must be just right.
She'd had a snit with her Ma thinking her hair was a fright!
But she looked lovely in her hat, gloves and flowered frock.
Her Pa's parting shot, "You git her home by ten o'clock!"
When I called for her I daren't sit and toot the horn.
That would've heaped upon my brow her folks' eternal scorn!
So I meekly sidled up and timidly tapped upon the door.
Met by her scowling Pa who mused, "Who's this skinny boor?"
My grandkids tell me there's no such formalities nowadays,
And wearing jeans and mutilating body rings is all the craze!
I'm told a great date is to join their friends at the local mall.
I guess I was born too soon - I just don't understand that at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
See floral tints as flowers drape,
Colours now mint such sensuous shapes.
Blossoms now tell as beauty dwells,
Wonder works well such fragrant spells.
Blooms where space grooms a thousand things,
Rich fancy rooms with nature's fling.
Warm precious thoughts connect with feel,
Sheer magic plots to touch and heal.
In that sure light of grand surprise,
Flowers move sight far beyond spice.
Blossoms put right that awesome gaze,
Love lingers bright in laughter's maze.
In garden swirl of zesty fest,
A loving world spurs lively quest.
Stop now to pray as silence floods,
Purge need to prey with violent blood.
Love well this day with lovely heart,
Soul knows the way to craft pure art.
Leon Enriquez
20 April 2017
Singapore
She picked up the pen and smiled at his name.
He was more alive now in some ways than he had been
When he was alive.
The frayed tablecloth was a reminder of his mother.
She had loved her also, because she was the woman
who had raised him.
The pen had his motto “live your best life”.
She loved this reminder
of the man she had loved most of her life.
She wrote fast and hard;
the words came for two hours.
Their love story. It was two a.m.
She flipped off his pretty green desk lamp
and laid her head down on one of his books.
It still had a bit of Old Spice on it.
Written 7-9-2020
Contest: The Old Scribe
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
All spices high and mild; nostrils filled with its aroma
Whether flow with the Ganga colliding the bourn,
Or sang with the chirping of the Sparrow sitting on the roofline,
The hot spicy heat prickle of the Ghost Pepper Chilli cuddling the tongue
The wild breeze nudges the chest while walking on the land of Sohra,
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
All spices add a pinch; just like sugar and salt an Indian lore
Add spices to the game and flaws
Add spices to the love and lust
Add spices to death and conquer
Add spices to lives and victories
What a life be; if without a tint packed with spices
Critters born and die; but good and bad is inscribed in their graves
Spice are harvest and contained; but the tale of aroma
Begins from my kitchenette and voyaging across the overseas
(Dedication: This poem is for
my son, Michael Zachary)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TINKERS #3:
Make what you will of time and space,
Indulge wise heart that treats you right;
Cheer helps you heal the hurts you face,
Hope sculpts fine art with profound grace;
Apt joy now grows the way of tact,
Entice pure spice to flavour treats;
Live what life shows in code and pact.
Trust in surprise to ease the heat,
Invest and see the path you take;
Niche that fond feel with purpose grand,
Keep things easy in all you make;
Embrace each thrill that fits your plans,
Rapture in bliss the light of day,
Succeed like this the truth you play.
~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 May 2016
Singapore
“The Indian Ocean, once key to the spice way,
Is now playground of superpowers, every day,
Bent on weaving their web of sway." -By poet ‘
*****************************************************************************************************************************
Indian Ocean
Blue cradle rocking wide and deep,
The Indian Ocean from stretched shores peeps,
Round all seasons simmering with sparkling sunshine,
Reflecting the sun golden gleam in space and time.
A link to Afro-Asia and Australia, free,
And loads of islands, ships cross this sea earnestly,
The southerly breeze sweeps across this salty spray
And tempers down the heat of everyday.
Fish simmer and silver lies deep below,
Where coral gardens gently grow
While wales softly sing secrets to the tide
In currents where the shadows hide.
Turtles glide with gleams of genuine grace,
Finding solace in this watery space,
Seahorses dance in swaying weed,
Planting warm hopes and sowing seed.
Yet danger lurks, a hidden threat,
To diverse marine species, small and great;
The swirling plastic tide we can`t ever forget
As it may turn into mankind`s regret.
When winter comes it brings a special charm
With holidays and decorated trees
With guests and firesides to keep us warm
Despite the icy chill of winter's freeze
That torments us with plummeting degrees
And snow to depths that's well above our knees
But silver frosting’s on the window pane
The sentimental smells of cider’s spice
With laughter and the joy are shared again
And all the world’s a cheerful paradise
(With gifts beneath the tree just to entice
The children to be mannerly and nice)
Then turkey’s gone, the cakes and pies devoured
This day is done, the children all worn out
The pots and pans and dishes all are scoured
The guests must go though no one’s gone without
And from the drive a last farewell they’ll shout
Then soon to bed they’ll all retire, no doubt
And while we both agree it’s been worthwhile
We’ve nothing left to share … except a smile
December 3, 2018 Winter Wonderland Poetry Contest "Urban Sonnet" Sponsored by: Emile Pinet