Long Thyself Poems
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Divine angelic embodiment...
amazingly graced yours truly -
And the missus earlier today
December thirtieth two thousand nineteen
ah... charming angelic gal heaven sent
voluntarily drove us from CJ's
(2009 Hyundai Sonata needs alternator)
1405 S Township Line Road,
Royersford, PA 19468
to 2 Highland Manor drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania 19468
upon overhearing conversation
whereby our 2009 Hyundai Sonata
necessitated replaced alternator.
Thus toting another mortal
(worth her weight in gold)
random act of kindness to behold
I felt incumbent to repay,
yet no money in billfold
thus random stranger
need be given and/or told
pro bono favor, lest
good nature within me will scold
Matthew Scott Harris,
perhaps even exact chokehold
regarding being recipient
exhausting list to enumerate,
yet nonetheless manifold
instances since boyhood
until thyself languishing
and getting farblondjet and old.
Found friends, Romans, teaser
countrymen... (think Julius Caesar,
salad days by William Shakespeare
if alive, a very old geezer
occurring in Act III, scene II),
perhaps also incorporating Ebenezer
Scrooge as greater dramatic pleaser.
I feel farblondget, farchadat,
fardeiget, and stymied
as cumulative intercessors
when this schlemiel in need
especially when a wee thing
how eldest and youngest sister indeed
countless occasions far exceed
ding dewey decimal, emotional,
financial, remuneration recompense
such focus on self, I willingly concede
at this age (scoring few till orbitz) read
ding those earlier years of mein kampf
in retrospect this bloke now freed
with less self centeredness and greed.
February 7 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Leviticus 19-21
Key Verse – Leviticus 19:18 Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD.
FAITH IN GOD WHO INSTRUCTS US
TO LOVE OTHERS AS OURSELVES
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His nurture…
Here we are thanking His compassion we treasure
Since He guards us against apathy’s torture
To share along faith His lovingkindness of divine pleasure.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His sanctification…
Here we are offering our gratitude-filled oblation
Since He helps us fulfill our vows toward consecration
To declare along faith His Gospel of salvation.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His certainty…
Here we are following His sovereign authority
Since He guides us toward spiritual prosperity
To lead along faith the lost to His redemption’s security.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His graciousness…
Here we are praising Him for His goodness
Since He grants us pardon for our confessed sinfulness
To encourage along faith those hopeless by His forgiveness.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His truth-settlement…
Here we are learning from His counsel’s fulfillment
Since He teaches us wise friendliness against deceitful compliment
To welcome along faith the brethren midst discipleship-commitment.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His light…
Here we are abiding in His will, doing what is right
Since He enables us by His power in our supplication-plight
To pray along faith for conversion of unbelievers through His might.
God instructs us to love others as ourselves with His mercy…
Here we are seeking His favour in our soulwinning fervency
Since He keeps us against temptation’s persistency
To continue along faith to be a blessing by His provisions’ sufficiency.
February 7, 2025
March flower daffodil, canary yellow, a single bloom with the vernal equinox
Aquamarine birthstone, gift thyself a ring this birthday, wrapped in a jewel box
Romans marched on, this month they named after God of War, Mars, mythology
Caesar, Julius’s downfall 44 BC, oracle warns “Beware the ides of March” 15th
History has Texas no longer Mexico the 2nd of 1836, Independence of Lonestar
Mad as a March hare! The full Worm Moon peaks illumination the 25th afar
Animals mate, larva of worm thaw and emerge from hiding, and birds migrate
During Lenten abstain from meat on Fridays, give alms, read Sacred Scripture
NCAA March Madness kicks into gear, basketball fan’s cheer the lively picture
Easter, 31st Good Friday 29th, Palm Sunday, Purim 24th, and Ramadan on 11th
Saint Patrick’s is celebrated the 17th we're a wee bit Irish, if only for the day
Spring arrives on 19th, Daylight Savings on 10th set clock, spring forward we say
Know thyself, and all thy ways,
Every path, your nights and days,
For truth resides where shadows creep,
In silent depths where secrets sleep.
Know the face beneath the skin,
The quiet pulse, the storm within,
In mirrored glass the soul does stare,
To weigh its love, to lay it bare.
---
Love is the quiet ember flame,
Whispering gently your sacred name,
It lingers softly, it does not part,
It makes a home within the heart.
---
Does your love hurt as much as mine?
It bleeds in rhythm, it breaks in time,
It aches in silence, it screams in prayer,
It shatters worlds beyond repair.
---
Reckless love, it burns, it flies,
It scars the earth, it splits the skies,
It does not bend, it does not wait,
It rides the storm and courts its fate.
---
Beneath the willow’s secret song,
I held the truth I sought so long,
The soul’s bright fire will always climb,
Beyond the chains of death and time.
The storm within me learns to rest,
The trial by fire becomes a test,
From broken earth the rivers start,
And wisdom pours into my heart.
I walked through shadow, I walked through flame,
And each new wound became my name,
A lion’s roar, a serpent’s call,
The chaos mother born of all.
Though worlds may falter, stars may fall,
The voice of love still conquers all,
And I, who held both sword and dove,
Am bound forever to reckless love.
A hand in a stream holds water all day,
Butt cupped and limited soon slips away,
The tree bears fruit and it pleads to be eaten,
Not to be taken and money beaten,
Your property is theft it's theft from yourself,
It gives away your inner wealth,
Time doth pass that's all time does,
Past and future, fiction stuff.
When wracked with suff'ring even more,
I all alone bemoan my fate,
as one who drowns in sorrows sore
which harm, harass, and maul his state.
Aggrieved for what feels like forever,
I trouble God with bootless cries
as I endure my manic fever
with tearful, red, psychotic eyes.
The minute hand lands on midnight!
I can't find clear words to express
feelings of falling a headlong height
b'neath heaven's reach 'yond grief's excess.
Inside, I feel the Reaper’s scythe
as I think out my mordant plan:
razor, pills, or a kitchen knife,
a way to end it by my hand!?
Like Sylvia Plath, if I can
plant my head in a GE gas oven,
then it’d be painless!? (But why plan
a death so cliche, and unproven?)
I think, too, of Virginia Woolf,
how she drowned her life in a lake;
I, too, feel swallowed in a gulf
of swirling misery that'd take
me to my death! Why do I feel
forsak'n, and heavy as lead now? Am
I so hopeless? Why do I feel
so worthless, and so so dead? How am
I to end my life (to kill myself)—
if all loved ones were then to miss me?
“Help yourself!” I then heard. "Heal thyself!"
I hear aloud. As angels kiss me,
I thus then found comfort in this:
that family and friends all care,
and if I'd died I would be missed;
so, I war 'gainst profound despair.
And then, Hope dawns! And soon comes peace…
And in the morn, I wake arising—
Joy breaks in, and I have new lease.
And then my state I cease despising!
i could stare at your very photogenic (albeit invisible) countenance all day (or mice elf Stuart Little as a poor substitute), all week, the entire month, this remaining year, at least one additional decade, boot no more than a century21!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Looking for a best friend, or...a wurst (liver) re: enemy.
brief bio Matthew Scott Harris doth briefly sketch
almost two win a half score years since me being:
Born January 13th, 1959
I shake my shaggy hirsute hair
in utter disbelief, when the cocked arrow
begat thine conception,
when meal ate mum and octogenarian papa
begat their second offspring and only son,
what now seems to be a stepped-up pace,
where father time doth affix another candle to blow
where the passage of life measured
in swiftly tailored decades
denoting another birthday,
when with the blink of an eye,
I vividly recall crow
wing like a Lil whippersnapper of a boy
leisurely playing monopoly
for make-believe dough...
--------------------------------------------
nothing ranks as the greatest gift
since being a father twenty-one years ago
then bearing witness to grow
increasing autonomy
of my two precious daughters
whereby each will become master
of their domain, and meet a loving beau
(actually thy eldest dates
a delightful young man
from Puerto Re Coe),
whom intuition discerns would be
a near perfect match –
and this papa intuits dough
nuts to dollars – that such an
em man hint gentle, humble,
intelligent lad – doth hoe
pa fully become the future groom
of said firstborn, (which outcome I know
wing couched in a couple of poems
sent his way, and no doubt his smarts lo'
and behold revealed the slightly obscure wish),
where love doth most obviously abound mo'
then prevailed between myself and bride o'
mine these last deuce score
plus (21+) years, but now this Poe
whit aspires to recognize the worthiness of she,
whose chose thyself as a lifetime
groom cuz peaceful status quo
avoiding animosity –
as thyself and spouse gently row
merrily...merrily...merrily
our quiet quite rickety craft
which oft times in the past needed a tow
off the craggy shoals of constant woe.
In prison, and bereft of all defence,
But my Healer, graver than ever ere,
Swirls his chair round, yon of window to stare
As if to get inspired from Providence.
More of a dumb than mute, I curse my fate,
But happy he feels that it’s my left hand,
We’ll amputate it if we cannot mend,
What, what? I ask, my mouth an open gate.
We’ll start with anti-Cox, let it take long,
If you stick to treatment, you’ll sure get cured,
Soft tissue bone cancer I hope it’s not,
It looked he played a loose game of Ping Pong,
But what’s not in one’s hand ought 'tbe endured,
He vaguely kept everything to my lot.
Vague were his ways, vague as his weird know-how—
Of kind that make from mole hill huge mountain,
I ask him once again to well explain,
Here’s what he said with flourish and a bow:
There’s a graveyard of local infection,
And a cyst envelopes it like a fort,
Fight ensues, there’s settlement out-of-court,
Bur why worry it all, time to take action.
The cyst was hence removed, its stems and roots,
Biopsy tests done still gave not a clue,
But all follow up had to be gone through,
Cost and concern, me left with bitter fruits,
Does today’s tech help, hinder all the more?
A mixed bag of debates rage—needless lore.
_______________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: Here are sonnets VII and VIII of a sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the last line of the tenth as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.
A grave destiny..
Despair erupts ..
Spewing ashes of desperation..
A lava filled dismal state of being..
Hunger pains persists..
Saving crumbs to subside hunger..
Living in lack implodes sadness
Fear explodes..
Shed tears of the unknown..
Seeking for salvation..
The dark night of the soul shows itself..
Hidden messages and signs of sorrow..
Without the darkness there sheds no light..
A metamorphosis arises through pain..
To become rich..
Is to love thyself..
Love others..
Share the richness and the fruits of life..
Embrace the abundance of being rich..
Richness defined in multiple ways..
Living from inside your heart..
Will shine a vibrant light on you and others..
As your beautiful soul dances blissfully..
Where lack evaporates..
No longer shall you save crumbs..
Hunger pains disappear..
To become rich..
You were born rich..
The gift of living within your heart..
I have issues with the sun
It burns
It burns so much these days
It burns it hurts my face
Yet I am going out now
Right into this traffic jam
Right when the sun is big and bright
Where is dawn?
What a mess I am
There is no such thing as a want in me
I rather tuck myself in my blankets as I wake
Shut the doors
Shut the window
Lock it all
And do nothing
And that's part of the reason I am late
That's why I am going out right into this traffic jam
Out to the doing of stuff
Out into engaging in mundane activities
For the mere chance of maybe sustaining thyself
Plus some maybe surplus
I put the same song on repeat
As I go out right into this traffic jam
I am such a miserable creature
And that's why I walk around with my head down
Self loathe
What bravery is needed to be me everyday
The worst thing is I am not so uncaring
But somehow I embrace the me that I know lacks
It's funny how even I am right in this traffic jam
I wish to just go out
And just go back home
Anti-intellectualism may breed anti-curiosity.
Harsh reality can frustrate existential sternness.
They tied backlash against "mere" curiosity.
Yet, every human behavior has a purpose.
Conveying a full breakdown of all the key sights.
Tangling, multiplying tendrils sepia from white.
My character has changed significantly already.
Rhododendron in blooming; existentialist edgy
The moon pendulum is at its most vulnerable.
Strong, direct sunlight makes vivacity visible.
Recognizing oneself in the gaze of the Other.
Transtemporal throws ages in a shadow cover.
Romance, paraphyllium, and aurora snow,
harvest moon, opaline luster, and coral glow.
Eurasian plant calyxes with spicate bloom.
Five stars in the sky; a red glow in the gloom.
Wake up, mystery, and join me on Mars.
Latte, belt out a song that heals my scars.
Opal in black, a ruby for the crown gem,
Is that thunder? You infer my heart hem.
Is this a dream, upon a shimmering silver sky?
Antsy flow, a phantasmagoria of my avow mind.
Chimes in Venice, a piercing stare into my eye,
as though we've always been close, my kind.
Sparkle up the universe and unveil thyself.
Moon wake, I'm steering my rise from a shelf.
Who were we if not to serve the whole world?
How do we fathom where we'll be stirred?
The darkness shrouded the vision of man.
Scattering flies at dawn since they had begun.
We face the share of the world with blackness.
Having to push and shove away the darkness.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: December 18, 2022
This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Your Favourite Rhyming Poem From
The Second Half Of 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward