Long Stewart Poems
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19 May 2018
Who will tell how I roped the moon
When life has changed from place to place
And only in mind will be seen my face
Who will tell the stories I lived
How will be known my life a gift
The places I've wandered the wonders I've met
The good that came with no regret
Stories I've told and no one heard
Who will be left to carry my word
Christ if He did not already know
Would have questioned what He had to show
So many listened but never heard
His heart He poured out in every word
Jimmy Stewart was shown his life in a nights swoon
From saving his brother to roping the moon
From saving his town and his families birth
He then knew his life he then knew his worth
Who will show my life for me in time coming soon
Who will tell how I roped the moon
in the 1940s many movie comedies dealt with heaven
hell, reincarnation, the devil, angels, body snatching
I get a channel called Classic Reel with my Roku
The movies shown are from the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s
I saw three of these shows this week
the one about hell was spooky in black and white
maybe more creepy than if it had been in color
they were plausible, warm, and witty
I got reintroduced to Betty Grable, Betty Hutton
Bob Hope, Bing Cosby, and Jimmie Stewart
They were intriguing shows, amusing
I was not bored, I was intrigued
Plots much more entertaining than today’s movies
For a few lovers more.
I was driving along on the car radio Rod Stewart
Sang” have I told you lately that I love you.”
Perhaps it wasn’t Rod but someone else what
Do I know about popular music?
Why do I find it hard to say those simple words?
I have practised in front of the mirror, like an actor
who knows his line but lacks imagination
I bought her a car instead.
That made her happy, she meet her lover
come back and kiss my bald head and say, “love you.”
thinking of him.
I met her lover at a party, walked up to him
and said “I love you for making my wife happy.
He was stunned into silence.
She stays home, I think the lover broke it up
because when they made love, he was thinking of me.
the spell, of having a hidden affair was broken.
Reading a poem about a horse
with a stain
on the author’s page. Patron
ate something saucy,
as he read of a war statue,
forking or spooning
probably pasta or slurping
poetry, precariously, I ponder,
as I wait for the oven timer
to deliver dinner. Deviled
ham quiche - the aesthetic
embodiment of
eggs & cream, cheddar,
onions & cayenne
firmly held in its shell.
I’ll eat in the early afternoon
and get a lift
to see Cheap Trick &
Rod Stewart. Not the cheap
seats, but the special ones
saved for the limo driver’s guests;
he will be chatting it up
behind the stage or
just standing by.
I can’t get past a couple
pages, having stopped
at the blot. A library lie
that these hard-covered words
are all mine, well his;
a-muse-d at a blank page,
how I’ve filled its plate,
and how
I will separate
my pie from my eye.
A beautiful young woman who came from very near,
was off and running with a great acting career.
She starred in a movie with Clark Gable titled "Mogambo".
Later, she was paired with James Stewart in "Rear Window".
A great film by the name of "High Society" would show.
There were a few other movies we would get to know.
This actress soon met the prince from the tiny country of Monaco.
They tied the knot, and off she would go.
For this lucky prince, Grace made a wonderful wife.
Tragically, a fatal car accident took her life.
I thank imdb.com for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
Summer's hunter-green fields yielded to autumnal beige
and vermillion,
soon came the frosted air and cardinals singing in
snowy pine boughs.
Deer shyly emerged from woodlands edge for feed
families left out,
winter sonata of our melody of long ago.
Your chestnut beard sparkled with ice crystals,
your large sienna-brown eyes of merriment.
Nearby home's smoking chimneys heavily encased
with snow and ice,
we'd playfully toss snowballs,
when our youth we thought of as lasting.
Crackling colored firelogs,
hot cocoa and pajamas,
cuddling neath a red plaid wool blanket.
Oh, the laughter,
the kisses of Christmas love,
watching the Jimmy Stewart-Donna Reed
movie, "It's A Wonderful Life,"
in its classical timelessness,
pearlescent doves and angel hair round
the tree.
Several snowbound days together,
we got to know each other in cherishing
of time as a newly bonded couple,
and welcomed our baby daughter the
following November.
Sweetly now,
as December is days away,
wishing you could walk over the
threshold again,
scent of Grey Flannel,
singing in baritone.
I can smell the burning hickory wood
and see our three stockings hung on the
hearth,
as wintry songs in the wind,
fill my hours of remembrance,
winter sonata of our melody of long ago. ~
fast as a blitzen comet,
this dashing prancer
contra dancer
(i.e. Rudolph nary hoof) didst zip
with cupid ditty toward his vixen wife,
who loosed a suppressed yip
asper one discovering remains of the day
from the donner
(newt the majority) party whip
ping her olive drab camouflage attire,
as if she hapt to be a vip
endlessly congratulating herself
(and bow wowing her ego) bing awarded
the housekeeping seal of approval,
and expected me to tip
her gore gee us Martha Stewart déclassé
snoop doggy dog rendition
as she did slip
agilely (with broom and dustpan in hand) rip
peat head lee uttering
an apropos Mary Poppins quip
booting muck can clear across to Compton
(wherever that might be) pip
pin like a cat on a hot tin roof,
where no cure existed to nip
in the bud at this stage,
and rid thine beloved Narberth bride,
who caught a bout clean destine
feverish frenzy to make house beautiful,
oblivious to beseeching despair,
sans this husband who cried
plaintively imploring divine intervention,
lest extreme heroic measures
need be taken, thus guide
me asap before her blistered hands
rubbed red as tender (vittles) raw hide,
which could find her catatonic, doggone
ill eagle lee flying a boot
like a bat out of hell, and stupefied
hence, this urgent message typed out in a huff
for less severe invasive
experimental treatment truly tried
on this, that, or some other missus so and so
.....please pardon this abrupt end,
plus initial idea wide
lee differing from my initial intent won
during how to write an elegy to mister son
describing, how aye felt enervated with run
hills of beaming solar rays, oh how none
synthetic drug to bathe,
enhance, suffuse away mon
day moody blues,
and now...gotta tend tummy hun!
"Oftentimes, sometimes I think of you. I drive by the street where you used to live. I don't know now if you're alive or not. Blessings to you I give. I don't know if you're married or a widow. All I know is just this ^I Loved You Gala^, but I never did tell you Oh! I loved your meekness, your sweetness...
Happen upon we were in the same school in junior high. My heart asked me why you didn't say anything bout how I feel. Gala you had such loving eyes and you wore glasses your hair was auburn skin as bronze you were, so friendly often times so endearing.
And yes I should have said something but alas I was afraid to. To say something. Your name is Gala my first crush. Gala Steward wish you knew that I like you. Was in Junior High in 1968. You kind of look like my mother with those pretty eyes girl, you're so great. Your name is Gala I should have persuaded my mind cuz. My heartwas already there. I walked you home from school one day. It was such a lovely way.
The name is Gala, Gala Stewart I hope all is well in your life and that you've very affluent for I was to shy to say. That I love you to embarrass to say. Anything, I was foolish a dope, didn't listen to my heart. Well who knows maybe if I now pray. Best wishes to see you again one day. Whether you're married or not hope God blessing at first thought.
Gala you were my first love but I never told ya!"
~This is a verse bout my first crush in middle school Horace Mann Junior High School...~
[ dedicated to Gala Stewart Wherever You Are]
4/20/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
The vibrant popinjay has gone.' The harlequin no more really
Spins in song.' The magic's now all in a can.' Younger female backers
Parry times looming advance plan..' The age'd icon takes his glances
Across the acres, of yearning souls in hopefull trances..Parody banners they lie.' beneath sultry skies.' Echo the effigy of the past, See it burned in the mans eyes.'
Actions Describe.' Writ large the irony of life.' Youth has
Flown.' All hail its ghost, Ronnie strums, the speakers hum.'
Geri-acrity...Fumbles combinations and with alacrity..' 0yet theres really not one chance.' No way back.' All I see is false hope.' Rod Stewart is a husk.' Not yet voiceless.' Nor danceless yet
Its the back end, of the romance.!
A blues rock guitarist, singer and songwriter
At a very young age
Joe Bonamassa was enmeshed in melodic strings
Of the blues music
And influenced by the song “Let me love you”
Sung by Rod Stewart and the Jeff Beck Group
He knew what he wanted to do in life.
In a unique baritone voice
He sang many songs of love
Like “A place in my heart”
That inspired me to write the lyric
So special for me
Searching for you all the time I wander free
Sometimes I lose hope my dear
Your footprints I follow lonely
Wherever you are now
Even if I don’t see
My love for you is so special for me.
In isolation
I’m waiting for a long time
My longing for you doesn’t end my dear
I won’t listen to your plea
Be with me forever
I’ll fill your heart with glee
My love for you is so special for me.
My feelings you may not know darling
But trust me you’ve an adorable place
In my pining heart
Where I bloom the flower of yearning
For you to come and see
Its color so lovely
I’m sure you’ll agree.
Searching for you all the time I wander free
Sometimes I lose hope my dear
Your footprints I follow lonely
Wherever you are now
Even if I don’t see
My love for you is so special for me.
In the storm of gloom
All my dreams break
But the rainbow I see
Rise only for my sake
My love for you is so special for me.
____________
May 15, 2023
Contest : Joe Bonamassa Inspiration 3
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori