Long Thirsty Poems
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It’s National Mental Health Awareness Week
and I’m finding new resources to help
me
help me
help
me again and pretend there is hope until there is
hope all who suffer find some peace
and mind that can settle
enough to remember
joy and grace.
and I’m using my trusty computer and low and behold like magic
my mind conjures my brothers who I’ve been missing…
they live so far away and when I’m convinced I am all alone with no hope
I want their company, want some family ya know.
And so an email pops up from my brother
with a link to an old song coming up new from Jackson Browne
and I’m thrown into the past… and how touched I was with his lyrics and music….
I was hopelessly scared and drunk all the time
and one day I locked myself in the bathroom, laid on the tiles
that were heated copper, naked and listening to Jackson Browne.
I knew he knew and I wanted to talk to him
and I found his phone number and I called him
on my old funky phone that reached all the way to the bathroom, 837-2400….
he was there but I chickened out and hung up,
passed out on the hot tiles
and woke to the wind rattling the window
and noise from down the hall coming from the family room….
the big room, the belly, the heaven and hell
where this family dwelled in love and pain and confusion….
ribs, lungs, wooden beams heaved with thunder, rain and we held steady…
none of us were ready to be
Thrown out into our lives. Thirsty.
Something about you calls to my heart,
pulling and drawing me farther apart
from those I am with; you implore me to see:
what are you saying, twisted old tree?
You chose not the shelter of forest or town,
but out in the wide open fields you put down
roots that were hungry, thirsty for truth,
with only the blue vault of sky for a roof.
You have stood all alone throughout the long years;
the sunshine your joy, the raindrops your tears.
the snows have lain heavy upon your bare brow,
beneath biting winds, writhing, you bowed,
Your trunk is gnarled and twisted with pain
for fierce were the storms beneath which you strained;
yet, in your branches, by cruel winds wrung,
the dove has nested and raised up her young.
Yes, you have struggled and tasted of woe,
but a partner with God you have been and you know--
along with the laughter of leaves comes the sigh,
and mingled with joy there is always a cry.
I wonder at you as I stand 'neath your boughs:
if you could choose over, what would you do now?
would you live in the forest or some sheltered glen,
or choose, as you first did, the fields and the wind?
I know why you call me, my brother, old tree,
for the sap in your veins flows also in me;
I must drink the cup wholly, both bitter and sweet,
for life has no nectar unless it's complete.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
My identity is clear even the world
recognizes who I am what I stand for,
catch me @ the brook where the
spirit of God constantly pours on
the thirsty, sin conceives death
and lately I been murdering me
yeah it hurts but Im more than a conqueror unto him
who is able
to do exceedingly & abundantly
I can't run from he, so I guess I'm
feeling like Jonah and my homeboys
are Nineveh turn from your wicked ways man up, own up,
stand up
for the Christ even the darkness
is paralyzed when daybreak hits
I emerged when the smoked cleared
so its clear the Christ was in the midst
of the storm when it brewed, he could've chose someone
else more
worthy to do his bidding but praise
The Lord Of My Strength & Salvation
he didn't make that decision -J.U.D.A.H.
Let morning’s light and river music lead my feet away
to meet them in majestic song upon my rise each day.
Summer’s rain will mark a joining, river’s edge to earth;
with sounds our hearts have beaten long before the time of birth.
Bubbling brook, murmuring stream, river’s children singing
youthful songs a river dreams, joys of summer bringing.
Blood courses neath my skin as much as rivulets in their dancing;
river, time, and I in tune, against the years advancing.
We walk the river’s bank and leave our footprints in its soil
on it flows through fields of gold where thirsty bodies toil.
Our home is with the water from a time we know not when.
For we are as a drop of water in the sea of men
who run to join the river’s touch, be near to feel her pulse
steeped in angry babble from the sound of crowded skulls
and there upon the river’s mirror our reflection shone
as rivers swim within our eyes to claim us as their own.
And we will know the river as we know our Mother’s face
and come to walk the river’s edge to find our inner grace.
And we will walk this path again along the river’s bank
and here our presence shall remain in quietness and thanks
for those who share our borrowed moments from the river’s rhyme;
brethren those, who knowing chose, such ways to mark their time.
Let morning light and river music take your hand to lead,
until you’re wading home again to wash away all need.
My Dear Child
As you start a new journey today
Allow God to show you the way
Pray to Him day and night
And let Him be your guiding light
The road to success may be hard and long
But you can make it if you just stay strong
Study your work diligently
For knowledge, you should be ever thirsty
Always desire to know more
Than you have ever known before
Remember questions are important too
So ask, even though people laugh at you
Become a best friend to your books
They'll serve you better than your looks
Your teachers and principal you must obey
They're there to guide you along the way
Open up your heart and mind
Make sure you are always kind
People won't always be nice and that's ok,
Be extra nice to them anyway
Don't lie, don't steal and do not fight
Remember the difference between wrong and right
May this journey be an exciting one
Your life has just begun
As you walk this path, I'll be there with you
Always remember that I love you.
THUG LIFE
cold heart and mind,
drugs are lunch and supper,
prostitutes are friend and wives,
smoking is the daily work,
wanna be Hitler is the dream,
clotting blood is the appearance of the, body.
Never touched by a loving body since birth,
hunting and struggling is the game,
SOS is the code of life,
sinner inside and out,
happiness is not a disease,
under world is the final residence,
Unknown in the society,
no friends needed for advises,
loneliness is the habit,
police and jail are real friends,
revenge is the thirsty,
Happiness was a wish and desire,
sweet life was a dream and want,
friends and relatives was a basic need,
entrepreneur was a future contract,
but life changed into the thug one.
An ordeal
Burning examination
To me with a grimace infection
Thirst for the oceanic water I filled with night
Seagulls wings are chained up with test flight
Twisted all dreams in the mill of unspoken fears
Before mirror the world feels now afraid of death
Flying flies singing the songs of summer fruits
On the flags of lined up ants slogan coming for rainy days
Earthworms seeking the sponge breast of fields to plough
Crops on the hay of thirsty exam papers
Failure in faith bringing in mind hellish drear
No human but the earth is suitable for creatures
03.05.2020 (Chattogram City)
There’s more than the eye can see
Gorgeous beauty revealing enormous constellations
Deep in the vast of time between the murmurous of generations
Sonorous sounds escape through hummed earth whispers and fade
Silent surreal piety beauty veil in transparent silk tulle shade
Trapped in an illusion in the depths of darkness wink
Through the corridors of time, thirsty for a moment of a dazzling glimpse
Arcane inner yearning into the heart deeper than the ocean
All the seas and the universe motion
Mesmerized to serve its whimsical notions
4/27/2016
MORE THAN THE EYE CAN SEE - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
GORGEOUS –SURREAL- SONOROUS- DAZZLING -MURMUROUS -CORRIDORS -ARCANE
Imagine owning a gun
and you are doing it for fun
only for it to bring you harm
you become its casualty
or end up serving a penalty
while it becomes your reality
Destruction is a language they speak
fed on bullets that they later spit
thirsty for blood that they spill
Bringing life to a sudden end
while everyone apportions blame
for many, life doesn’t remain the same
While some use guns to settle scores
they don’t know how much blood flows
they will not admit their flaws
Robbing many of both property and life
they have to take cover in order to survive
giving thanks if they come out alive
prompting security and the alarms
to the response of sheriffs on alert
keeping many awake all night
Intervention comes with caution
to tread with precaution
though it’s a temporary solution
The law on gun use,
Enforced on those culpable for abuse
as long as evidence is adduced
With no limits to jurisdiction
they should all earn a conviction
if they are no false accusations
That should serve as a deterrent
making sure it is not recurrent
ridding society of abhorrence
To create a safe place for all
freedom to associate for all
we live once after all
Let’s engage in wars of words,
although they pierce the heart,
they cause no physical hurt,
Use pen and paper to fight
with no intent to cause loss of life
better yet, be keyboard lovers seeking for the limelight,
It gives everyone an opportunity to be heard
without making other people’s lives hard,
Finding answers to questions with a click of buttons
rather than pulling triggers and engaging in fierce battles
"Are they going to take him off life support?"
I heard my middle daughter whisper with burden.
In a silenced gasp of terror,
I knew I was the subject matter.
A doctor's prognosis, in layman's terms:
damage irreparable, vegetative state expected.
I wrestled with my failed act of will to peal
open my eyelids, to motion that I'm still here,
living in mystery of the sight around me,
but still able to hear, still able to sense.
In blurs and slurs, I saw remembrances
of faces and places half fabricated, like in dreams.
Awake or asleep? --- I knew little difference.
I could hear each footstep coming toward me
and shuffling away.
I could sense someone's presence
by a muffled dose of warmth and light.
As I heard my pastor praying,
I embraced each word with the only hug I could give,
one internal, one becoming eternal.
As scripture dripped over my thirsty soul,
I fervently prayed for each precious visitor,
who would lament my impending absence.
Like an infant's babbles trapped within,
with inutterances now incomprehensible
even to myself, I began to fade
into an opening of light-flickering glimpses
piercing through the doom.
As I slipped off into the distance,
a redemptive mystery began seeping through,
ready to free me from my ebony prison.