Long The world Poems
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Has many looks
You may not see all beauty shown
That God leaves there on its own
Coincidence
Is an excuse of distance
The truth must be said
For it echoes within your head
Time our world did see
What gift the Lord Jesus offered thee
More precious as days of old
For you have many of us foretold
Time to rise
No longer disguise
What we see before our eyes
Had been truth hidden among the lies
The heart is the only one to see
You have that within thee
This is the only way to set this heart free
Is to have Jesus live within thee
Give thanks to God
He spreads abroad
Capture all hearts
To unwrapped its best part
What is more precious than a heart that feels
The world has false revealed
Now kneel
God love has always been real
I know you feel
I wrap and offer him this gift
On which he did wish
THE DYSLEXIC NIGHT
Back in the first millennium,
Putting the world to rights,
There lived a king called Arthur
With a band of gallant knights.
They did things democratically,
Seated round a table.
Although the lines are slightly blurred
Between true fact and fable.
The knights were known for gallantry,
Fighting many a foe,
And saving maidens from dragons.
They were always on the go.
But one knight had a problem,
Which I’ll tell you about directly.
He had a thing called dyslexia
And didn’t read thing correctly.
Now everyone knows that knights of old
Were meant to be very chivalrous.
But he just made a joke of it.
He’d read the word as frivolous.
Every year he made pots of jam,
With varying success.
All down to his habit of saving
Damsons in distress.
He wanted to hire a cleaner,
To give his wife a break.
So he offered the job to Nineve,
The Daily of the Lake.
He had a dozen children,
A strange situation, he felt.
For, each time he went off to battle,
His wife wore a charity belt.
Arthur sent him off one day
To find the Holy Grail.
He came back two weeks later
And handed the king a snail.
And then he solved the problem.
So now he reads quite well.
He consulted Mervyn the Wizard.
And we all know he could spell.
25th February 2020
Your Favourite Legend contest
Sponsor - Chantelle Anne Cook
A long mile I have to go,
Through silent winds and inner glow.
I seek the truth the world won’t show—
Yet in my soul, it lives below.
Truth is fire, burning bright,
Turning every falsehood light.
Like the sun in rising might,
It clears the dark, restores the right.
A long mile I have to go,
Where buried seeds of kindness grow.
I search for humanity’s glow—
Fading fast, yet moving slow.
Humanity joins heart to heart,
Heals the wounds that pull apart,
Wipes out hate with gentle art,
Ending bias from the start.
A long long mile I still must go,
To fan the flames that faintly glow—
For truth and love already flow
Within my soul… I only grow.
(continued from Part 1)
..To those that don't comprehend
No accident or by default
- WHY the world is;
or has become insane,
Inevitably of course
we see that,
There IS a Group to Blame,
All bewildered commentary aside,
It IS and has been owned, controlled, by those
that are so, desperately so..
To not see, nor look above your
Homes
- the torrid and poisonous trails
Of noxious toxic Nano particles,
sprayed constantly over our once blue iconic skies
Flouride, Mercury and much more besides,
stops all cognitive reasoning
secretly contained,
in Blood-brain barrier,
..insipid nanobot A.I,
An evil connectivity resides
Consider this in your mindset,
Abused but yet - constantly accused - blinded with Trillions in Debt for You
From your idiotic, pathetic but incapable character; to despise,
To your minute and limited worldview..
A love of
- official standard Lies,
Why does this basic notion escape your innate, yet
- subdued perception?
To Those That Don't Understand..
Feign incomprehension
all you want - the difference remains intention
It is and always was
a form of Cabaalistic
Slight of Hand Mind Control
Their 'Might is right'..
You may not dare to mention,
But of course - though,
As with everything else,
- always Hidden in Plain Sight
By way of complete and utter, otherwise abundantly clear
..Deception
One simple message to take onboard
Raise the consciousness and
Awaken.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
April 25th 2021
During covid 19 lockdown
The PoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
Lord you washed the stains from thy robe
Filling me your spirit to stand bold
Thank you for the love you emit
Your love is so strong unlike the world is cold
I ask you to take me by my hand
And lead me to your promised land
Lord keep my mind free and clear
While banishing all fear
Lord I try so hard to stay near
Thank you for your love and sincere
Lord at times I look around and your hard to see
Then I put my thoughts on you
As my mind becomes free
I notice how you create everyday
While I listen to all you have to say
Lord control this battle within
For my soul I want to win
The old soul tries to overtake
But through your love and embrace
It cant enter in this race
I see your path as foot steps in snow
While you teach me to resist any foe
My eyes flow tears
But when we unite will turn to cheers
You test my faith in the day
While searching out thy heart at night
Molding me until we unite
There comes a time when two people may not be for one another.
But for a time they can fly and be the perfect lovers.
To be as one to be together even if it isn't forever.
Life is so strange the times are harsh.
We have to enjoy the time we have before it runs dry.
It dosent matter who you are there is no reason why?
The sun will forever shine the seas will ebb and flow.
The world this small grain of sand we stand on!
will still be here when you and I have to go!
To enjoy a hug to enjoy the chase?
To have an everlasting kiss.
These are the things we will both miss.
To wake with you beside me in a bed of love.
Will be the worst and best times between us.
To walk as the sun will rise to enjoy the snow.
To walk in the pouring rain getting wet again and again.
To dance in the bright pale moonlight.
Watching shooting stars such a magnificent show!
And feel the stardust on a cool cold breeze.
And turn to each other and whisper words of love.
among the autumn falling leaves! I catch your germs from a loving kiss.
But I don't care you are there to nurse me to health.
That attention and love is worth more than material wealth.
And as we grow old there is no place for who did wrong.
There was in my heart always right. So always sing this as a song!
And when you sing it think of me as I look upon you.
I will always have a piece of you in my heart.
Whether here or there just imagine me everywhere.
My spirit is around you always in love and joy.
When we meet again it will be in a better place.
Which was meant for the love between a girl and a boy.
Love is strong love is weak.
It makes mere mortal men meek.
Isnt this the type of love all of us seek?
My Morning with Dad
Kevin Davis 2024
I wake before the light knows it’s morning,
stretching my legs, shaking the night from my fur.
The house is quiet, but I hear him breathing,
So, I pad over, just to be sure he’s still there.
Water first. Then food. Cool air outside.
The my world hasn’t changed overnight.
I bump a chair; they moved when I’m not looking.
But Dad never minds. He just laughs softly.
I search for him by scent, by memory, by love.
Dad calls my name, and the sound is warm,
A hand reaching across the room. I follow it gladly.
There’s a treat waiting. There’s always a treat.
I sit tall so he knows I’m ready, nose working,
Tail thumping, hoping he’ll brush my head the way I like.
When he does, I melt into the floor, proud of myself,
I'm good, and proud of him for noticing.
Then I lie by his feet, the safest place in the world.
While he sips his warm drink that means the day is beginning.
These are our mornings, slow and perfect,
Until the other voice calls from down the hall.
Mom's voice is bright; I hear a door opening.
He stands, happy, and I stand too,
Wherever he goes, that’s where the day is.
That's where I want to stay.
As time fades, we ponder what is true.
The world around me turns somber.
Change is forever creeping upon me and you.
As time fades, our lives evolve.
Moments live on through situations unresolved.
Emotions are spent. Questioning how you can so easily forget.
My soul, my heart. All the special parts of me.
Saddened to know nothing truly last and that is just reality.
Feelings fall apart as friends become distant memories. So easily do they walk away.
Again we ponder what is true? As time turns into yesterday. My emotions turn blue.
Recalling things of the past, knowing it all dies and becoming detached.
Opening my eyes to all the wasted time on moments that were trash. Giving up, knowing i tried. At times being rash.
Everything that mattered faded into a collection of dust and how time cannot rewind memories so eventually thoughts become tarnished and rust.
So as time continues to fade, i ponder what is really true. When time is everything and it got away from me and you.
Some of the biggest problems, the ones we don't understand,
The ones we are the most hurt by, are buried deep within our souls...
Sometimes we don't understand that to be real, to be excited about each day, to be enthusiastic about our lives, we have to be true to ourselves.
Actors need to act. Singers need to sing. Writers need to write.
It doesn't matter whether or not you get paid.
Be true to you, and the world will become the best it has ever been.
Do not be afraid to be the you whom you were meant to be.
God made you unique and vibrant and wonderfully yourself.
You are the only you the world has now or will ever see.
Live your soul dream life, you fascinating creature you!
Take AI’s verses
and make them yours,
fake wisdom through
generated synonyms,
stolen from
the thesaurus of thieves.
Maybe there are no pages for
inkless minds
that lack creativity,
or maybe pigments
in their ink have no stability.
Originality comes
from an authentic realm,
so why become a poetic predator,
stealing this pain,
and claiming it
as your own
testimony of healing.
Think twice when
you confuse
my silence as blindness.
I can see through
those soulless words,
that hold no
meaning nor insight.
You influence me to
question if your
quill actually
comprehends the
depths of the
metaphors I’ve woven.
Poetry is not always
defined by iambic pentameters,
nor by syllables
and insincere irony
articulated as
illusive imagery
in your fabricated foolery,
as every stanza is
how a poet perceives the world,
weaving words
into artistic confessions.
A poet’s heart is
graphically
bleeding upon
the edges of a canvas,
sketching sentiments
in shades of scarlet and sangria,
dipped in acute
amaranth acrylic.
You copy generated
text on
your virtual feed,
finding opportunities
to paraphrase someone
else’s personal prose,
yet remain ignorant to
feel their aura
from screens far away