Long Timid Poems
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As you see, hear a few moments later a funny looking Huckleberry Hound dopey little dog
cartoon the families all time favorite as the children snicker, and everyone there comes
in the room just in time and laughs together. With our dog cocking her head slightly and
barking with us. As our kitten Timid whacks at her ears stops again and chases her wagging
tail, hysterically.
And I tell you if it is all I can do to cherish the freshness of these things, friend I
will. I tell you I've already won.
My baby's laughter there in the highchair clapping with his superman bottle sitting in his
diaper splashing away all over Him listening to Dave Matthew's' It's Not Easy To Be Me
waving it in one hand as he shimmy's and rocks too and fro to the beat of the ambiance of
the new day, yes, reminds me ... .
Our Oreo cookie looking kitten named pounce, playing alone today now there
in-the-rain. How everything from birth has remained so curious to him. His
resilience as he laid there with her saying goodbye ... . As Gracie his sister just passed
on, yesterday. So I feel fate brings us to this opportunity, gentle mercy, tender beauty,
purest of goodness, when willing, everyday. Though even we do, or do not pray.
Like the perfect feel of those glorious tender kisses. Sweet caresses flying footballs
bike riding scuffed up knees tender love and band aids humming-birds-humming.
As-they-hover by the honey water feeders. The dog barking Pounce and Timid playing with
their super bouncy ball bouncing around whimsically too and fro. The Mango Chicken
Surprise chicken in the Set-It-and-Forget it rotisserie. Slippery wet feet legs flung up
swinging arms and tossing shoes loud thunks of your older swimmer Son slipping coming in
from His morning workout on the linoleum floor being just freshly mopped right bye the
back door.
As Mama cries out ""sorry Son" the dog or cat peed and you yell too"" You alright", and he
yells back frustrated "Whatever!" "This is a crazy family"! "I want out" Let me out"! And
yes some other real good humor I cannot really hear right now, and as well yes I feel he
is like Jim Carry and Robin Williams and a lot like me and my morning coffee.
Still being drank all throughout whatever heat of the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWJVmk8s9NU&playnext=1&list=PLAAF17CBEBB7C3D44&index=78
I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
With lantern light weary I write this morbid night
The moon above the meadows move in gloomy mist
With pen in hand, hermit a man and death amidst
Oh shall I walk the aisles of graves and hundred names
With flowers full of life financed on furnished frames
Below the wind and warmth of night do whispers woe
In fear I'm not for I care take of those below
For I have seen many a man and woman cry
And I have seen many a man and woman lie
Distilled in death with only breath of the beloved
Mourning above...mornings above heavenly loved
But something is a happening around the night
If not a dream how dost darkness so quicketh light
How frogs appear around lilies that left the fog
Where branches dance with trees beyond their childrens log
As ponds appear upon plateau of grave and sand
And stars above nomadic night come down to land
And voices of the birds play like a violin
And whispers of the wind hum like a hundred men!
It is at this moment that wings appeared to be
Uplifted from the back of her in front of me
Dear Angel, ye are he that spoketh write of thee
But in the nude in front of me am I to flee?
With hair in waves and arms extended out to see
Appeared to me...appeared to be...a flame of sea
That swept the cemeteries floor with torch and fire
And all in death consumeth life 'twas her aspire
A paradise on earth and wedding full of life
As they I have buried myself were full of light!
Women and men and children spread
A graduation of the dead
Ceremonious gift of beings
Thy conquered death, thy wearest wings!
Forth in her hands were flowers of a thousand-fold
And when she walked her footsteps formed a flood of gold
With every step a flower from her drew to ground
In mystic motion as she moved her wings would sound
Just like a brush of wind, angelic crystal wings
Face of fertility that wore a crown of rings
Unselfish all in all with fingernails of fire
Did pierce my heart into my soul a strong desire
To learn to love and love to live and live to give
Yes even in the dire darkness something lives
Believe me not and no one shall when I doth tell
The timid night I heard an Angel's voice exhale
Oh Angel it is thy that is in sacred stone
That came to me in flesh and now thy flesh is gone
Johnny Sumler
June 17, 2011
Angels In Cemeteries
I stare blankly ahead of me;
stare into the cracked soul of the being who used to reflect a smile
- the girl I used to love unconditionally.
That love evades me now.
Where has it gone?
I search desperately, but I fear it is lost forever
- lost forever in the turbulent streams of my --self--consciousness;
lost in the dark recesses of my mind,
in the shrunken cockles of my heart.
I fear I may never find it.
But surely nothing is ever truly gone;
surely it is simply hiding from me
- playing a twisted game of hide and seek -
or creeping in the shadows of my despair until it is needed again.
I need it now.
Words cannot express how deeply, how utterly, I want to love that person;
to see something of worth or merit in those dark eyes,
to smile back when those pale contours
find their pride again.
But somehow, I just can't see that face the same way.
All I see are lips chapped from saying "no"
- from constantly repenting sins they will soon commit again and again.
All I see are those blank, empty eyes staring back at me
- the cracked soul within beating herself bloody to be freed.
I wish I could see it - I wish I could set that girl free - but somehow I can't find how.
I want to see it again:
the eyes so full of promise and hope that they blossom,
the smile of a girl who knows the world will keep spinning.
the face of a girl who may be chipping away piece by piece, but is still trying.
But you can't see what just isn't there.
I'd like to think that with enough wishing, that face will return;
that somehow the withering girl - bound by her own will - may find the sun again.
That against all odds, the cracks will begin to fade - the splintered child will heal -
and maybe, eventually, time will turn back and her smile will find its way through the pain.
I'd like to think that miracles are a stones-throw away - that all you need is a little bit of pixie dust.
I'd like to believe that love does conquer all - much as the world would like to prove otherwise.
I'd like to believe that, beneath the face of a girl with only bad days left, there hides another girl.
I'd like to believe that inside those soulless eyes,
buried deep within a chasm of depression,
hiding, timid, in the shadows,
there lies another face:
A face that, maybe,
I can love
- or at least smile back at in the mirror.
An essence heard a heartfelt plea
meek, unconfident, not familiar
"Should I bother anymore? Please guide me."
His words hardly mist....
a response slices the scene
with the speed of a guillotine.
skittering over the asymmetrical
similarities of a snowy expanse
a messenger appears
cracks of icy dunes
produce precarious pawfalls
plaguing the vixen.
venturing further precisely
she plods over precipices
of ragged protrusions
desperate to achieve the comfort
of a smooth surface.
"Where you go is perilous!
I worry for your safety!
It can't be done, you won't survive!"
...cried the timid.
Her movement stops on cue
slowly facing the pupil
she teaches in silent syllables
floating on unknown frequencies.
" DAMN YOU NAYSAYER!
I have no time for the likes of you.
Say I won't survive? Come out alive?
I've fought through worse pain
finding sustenance to gain
morsels leaving one inspired
not feeling as if they're mired.
Search within your pores
find where you have hidden yours."
Dumbfounded - the novice stirs restlessly
"Perplexed, I see, you are mon cherie.
Hear what you seek before I flee.
When life's coldness surrounding you
leaves you writhingly wretched
don't feel so desolate and utterly dejected.
Deep inside lies the truth
albeit quite protected.
Bugger those scorning your worth
their eyes glisten shades green.
Stagnantly feeding ego's girth
pompous words - own to preen.
YOU are the Alpha here Jack
there is no need to whine
Condemn the disapproving pack
let your own light shine
Too much weight put into their drivel
making your inner child snivel
Buck up, put them in their place
other's ire force them to chase.
This be your nefarious impasse
faux approval merely to fit in
Always people of that class
saying anything to win
Lastly,
though I've said enough....
It's as you learned when a tyke
those times you fell off your bike
quit being a ruse
get back to your muse
keep working at what you like!"
Sunset facing her gaze
signals the quest resumed
Her protege audibly sobs
a simple seven syllable soliloquy stating:
"Thank you
I love and miss you!"
with a whispered (mom)
Tender tendrils of whispy wind
touch a cheek with a kiss
and a lasting voiceless return.....
"Forever, son"
Once, this world created in me,
A box of a mind.
With dark corners
And scary rooms with unopened doors,
Never talked about, Never answered,
But always, always thought about,
Always, always questioned.
Days and nights spun so fast, it seemed.
Weary me, in that box,
Always ran,
Callousness pushing me from behind.
Then, one day, I stopped running,
The world still pushed, but I slipped away.
The burden of unanswered doubts,
Seemed too heavy,
Over my perfectly drawn square shoulders.
I let go.
The squares, I bent,
Into circles and spheres and myriad magical shapes.
The windows smelt damp, creaked loud and ghastly,
The doors stuck hard to the walls.
The Walls I saw tall and high,
Had paintings I never noticed till then.
They had the hues and lines,
Of broken dreams, and unfelt love,
Incomplete poems and unwritten stories,
Dull and lifeless, yet they stared,
Sharp and staunch at my guilty eyes.
And memories twirled like hurricanes,
Twisted my body and soul,
Took me to shores I lived for long,
Yet haven't known them ever well.
Stinking with guilt, I realised,
Those moments of machinery monotony,
I forced myself over and again through,
To stay a part of this vicious crowd.
Not any more, I decided,
I was not ready to give up.
The starved me, could no longer hold,
And pushed the creaky windows open,
And as The shine glided into my room,
I saw, for once, the glow I missed everyday.
The art that scared me then,
Now began melting, into rainbow colours.
The deafening noise now vanished,
Into the the sound of rain dances.
How meek I felt, I forgot for a moment,
Thrusting the hard doors out,
I stood there, drenched,
Lost in the pouring love.
As I looked back, I saw,
The box I was in, crashing down,
Into a thousand pieces.
The fury of the rushing waters,
Seeping through the dreary corners,
That held all my pain and fear and guilt.
The windows and doors forgotten,
The scary strokes faded,
And all that came out,
Was the magic of The Rainbow Shine.
And so My Friend, please don't wait, like me,
Long times lost, timid in the box.
For the windows and doors are windows and doors,
And not the rails of a locked cellar.
And before the walls drew demons for you,
Break free,
Soak in love,
The kind that seeks the real You.
Form:
My brother, Lincoln Beachey, made my life a wonder,
Mother's eyes were full of him and loved how he was bold
I was the shadow elder son of a family in poverty's control
and struggled to to sustain them until my blind father's death.
In a grey world, Linc was bright colour caught on the fly
I felt drab and responsible but he dreamed of the sky.
Together we built airships and sailed upon the sky.
people lifted up their eyes and pointed up in wonder.
Then Orville flew and out of the blue, we began to fly.
we both were taught but I flew first, and I was not so bold.
It was almost suicidal but Lincoln feared not death
but I was timid, not like him, not nearly in control.
I flew straight, flat, low and slow tight grip on control
but Lincoln from the take off; it was like he owned the sky.
He danced on the air and I worried, fearing for his death.
Others tried to dance his dance and they died. No wonder
My brother always dared more, did more, forever bold.
Then grief for the dead filled him and no more could he fly.
He was sure it was his fault that they had died, so he did not fly
But like me they had lacked his nerves and his iron control.
They were others, the sky was full of men who were bold
Linc tried very hard not to fly but he soon went back to the sky
Then people came in thousands to see his latest wonder.
Flying low and slow I bumbled, crashed and came near death.
They saw him loop the loop for the first time and avoid death
He flew the thunder of Niagara's mists; where none had dared to fly
Then raced a car neck and neck, It was a screaming wonder
his plane howled inches over the drivers head, the finest of control.
Once he climbed his plane, until fuel was gone, high into the sky.
None had been higher and silently he glided down. That bold.
Over San Francisco bay he flew and still he was bold
Watched by thousands he seemed to tease death
then, suddenly, my ice cold brother fell from the sky
and I saw him smash into the water. No more to fly.
A wing strut had collapsed and he had no more control
and I lost my brother and it ended an era of wonder.
I am old now and look at the sky and I think of the unsung men who used to Fly
Those like me who were not bold and those who were. We all meet death
but we all look at the Control of a Lincoln Beachy and love all the wonder.
Learned so much know so little, feel in touch with the symbols
of the underground, profound insights into light and sound
i found, wisdom of a higher order, in the schism of the mind’s recorder.
What i’ve seen what i’ve heard about prying open the third.
I, said i’m not afraid to follow
Where the information goes my attention flows
Like the river-sky that nobody knows
Spinning round i found even deeper it goes.
Sometimes i wonder how i made it this far
Then i remember i’m an awesome examplar
Destined for greatness, reaching for stars
As visions of the future coincide with dreams of the past
i make sense of chaos, meaning of wonder
Not to let dualism tear me asunder, i cry
Why me, right here right now?
Is there any balance to be found?
In the world, dark as night light as day, listen to me when i say:
It’s OK. To let go of what you know is crucial to a brighter tomorrow.
Empty the cup, fill the heart, have a blank slate and restart
No fear, build it back up, shed a tear for your handywork
Formless like water i think you really ought to
Know what it’s like on the border between fire and ice
Yin and yang, see all things twice it’s a beautiful thang
To know eyes of gray see a bigger picture and the best of both worlds where lies will never get ya
Journey through the deep void, flying like an asteroid.
Annoyed. Ethereal like, a reality inside hidden in plain sight
Dismissed by academics, you know i just might
Have to lead a horse to water, force it to drink, if i could i’d take it to the brink
And the cutting edge of what it thinks, to diffuse, dissolve, and dismantle the bars, nets, and bonds
Holding in place illusions of waking life, stealing dreams as you sleep, intentional strife
Distracting, take no notice, center and ground, all ideas have value and virtue abound
Trust in the middle ground, flip a coin, take a leap
You never know what’s waiting round the corner, life is cheap
But time is short and is Love is brief so make the most of it
Make the right choice, despite the noise, hear the timid within
Use your voice, find your poise, be the spirit therein
Lead by example, a beacon for your peers
Chin up and throw away all the tears, negativity and doubts
Take Action. Be the change you want to see that’s what it’s all about.
© 2016 Ash: of the Grimshaw family – All Rights Reserved.
"All animals are equal. But some animals are more equal than others."
—George Orwell
A dozen of chickens and a number of horses, a cat and a raven, a few cows and other hoofed ones—all of which are perfectly silent. Poor wolfie. He can't even find a voice to growl. "Your Honor, if I may request for a short recess," I whisper, humiliatingly like a dying dragon. But my timid voice is drowned by a sly-looking pig's pouring of whisky into Dis Honor's gilded cup.
"Have you no respect or have you no eyes?" Squealing, he deafeningly squeals. He reminds me of that scaled wyvern whose head now sits in my living room. It roared deafeningly loud but breathed no fire. "His Honor is having his brief period of refreshment at the moment!"
With eyes too dry to cry and throat too hoarse to howl, the defendant meekly weeps. But only I hear it; the jury listens to only the silence, loud as a baby serpent's inaudible hiss, of two semi-digested pigs in his gut.
Who on earth build houses with flimsy hays or sticks nowadays anyway? And was it my client's fault that the third genius Doctor Porkchop got killed when some stray earthquake crushed his oh-so-unshakable fort built brick by bloody brick? Just whose brilliant proposal is it again to have Napoleon presiding the trial of the so-called Big Bad Wolf? If only he was a dragon—a pig-dragon at least— I would fain put the beauty that is my sword into good use right now.
Countless charges of premeditated murder, culpable animalicide, et cetera. Of course, do sentence us all to another life. I turn to look at the audience right behind me: a mare, a goat, a donkey. A soft motherly neigh followed by an intelligent baa, then by an astute silence.
"Please, Your Honor," Ridiculous. This stupid courtesy reminds me of tiptoeing past a mother Couatl guarding her eggs. "Shall we resume—"
Slams of gavel.
"Objection! Objection! Objection!" Dis Honor oinks vehemently, his mouth reeking of poorly brewed whisky—and I thought Tiamat's droppings were bad. The way he repeats the slamming of his gavel with every disgustingly pronounced objection gives me a headache as if it was my head he keeps hammering on. For the first time, being hit by the Basilisk's tail doesn't sound so bad at all. "Here you call me 'Your Honor Napoleon' in full," Oh, believe me, the honor is fully mine.
Painful Perspectives
Bullying in America
"About 77% of students have admitted to being the victim of of one type of bullying or another."
--www.bullyingstatistics.org
My stomach tightens once again
By now I know the drill
It doesn't matter what I do
Move on, scream out, stand still
My heartbeat throbbing louder now
As heavy footsteps near
My mouth, dry as a cotton ball
My shoulders hunch in fear
Suddenly, I feel the sting
My cheek turns cherry red
The smack has almost knocked me down
The pain shoots through my head
Now words so cruel they pierce my heart
I try to block the sound
My efforts useless yet again
Scars stain my soul deep down
I touch my flesh to feel it swell
My light begins to die
My head held low, I walk away
Too numb by now to cry...
"Approximately 30% of young people admit to bullying others."
---www.americanspcc.org
For me, each morning starts the same
No feelings, just routine
Commands and orders barked my way
"Get up! Get dressed! Get clean!"
I step into the blinding sun
Yet pause before I go
Just once to hear, "I love you dear."
The door slams; I should know
The sadness that I used to feel
Has slowly turned to rage
So off to school I stomp ahead
My heart locked in a cage
Not long after I arrive
I choose my timid deer
My heavy footsteps lead the way
Toward the scent of fear
My hand hits flesh; I feel relieved
To share my hidden pain
I utter words so cruel and vile
Too numb to feel ashamed...
"It is reported that 70.6% of young people say they have seen bullying in schools."
---www.americanspcc.org
Standing near my closest friend
I feel the tension rise
By now, I know what to expect
Not once am I surprised
My fingers tremble slightly still
As I await the scene
I fight the stinging in my eyes
Why is this world so mean?
I watch my best friend cower now
The same thing every day
I cringe for what's about to come
As predator seeks prey
My inner struggle swallows me
I long to take a stand
I fear the wrath if I intrude
Escape, I haven't planned
So helplessly I witness pain
Inflicted on my friend
I wish I had the courage to
Make the bullying end...
First times
are meant
To be special
Or so I wish.
With a lack
Of experience
And a timid
Demeanor,
I never learned
How to say no
To a person
That I liked.
When I look
Back on it now,
I think to myself,
How stupid could I be.
Our very first date,
In an empty cinema.
I heard the clink
Of his belt buckle undone.
Tension held on
As he took my hand
And guided it
To what he pulled out.
His breathing grew heavy,
And I sat stiff
As he moved my hand
Against his.
I should have said no,
But I wasn’t taught how.
Uncomfortable
As he asked
If I’d put my mouth around.
I shook my head,
Shaky
And nauseas with fear
As I pulled my hand back.
He claimed ‘blue balls’
And asked if I knew
What that was.
I didn’t.
Every time he touched me
Or the very least tried,
I’d grow sick
And he, upset.
He yelled at me once,
For getting sick to my stomach.
I didn’t know he’d yelled
Until someone told him off.
He’d apologize,
But only half hearted.
It was clear from day one,
What his intentions were.
‘I need to get laid’
He’d tell me on repeat.
Guilt sucked me dry,
But that was what he wanted.
First times
Are meant to be special
Or at the very least,
Consensual.
After the first,
I was glad
Nothing more happened,
Or I’d regret.
But in the second half,
I grew comfortable.
Believed he was
A changed man.
How silly of a thought,
For someone like me,
To be so naive,
I’d given in.
First times should be special.
That’s how I wanted mine.
Instead, what I got
Was not even a choice.
In the secret of the bed,
Doing nothing more than touching,
He guided his
And my head tilted back.
When he told me
‘It’s in’,
I almost felt sick.
Why hadn’t he asked?
Where was my consent?
My thoughts became muddled,
Filled with disbelief.
It couldn’t be, could it?
But he confirms it the next day.
I sit on the thought
That my first time
Was taken from me
Without question.
But if I were to tell someone,
They wouldn’t care.
It could count as rape,
If it never happened again.
It happened more times
Than I can count
(that’s a lie, I could),
With my consent
This time.
If I had it my way,
I’d go back
And do it over again.
I wouldn’t let him touch me,
Because my body rejected.
I should have listened then
Instead of crying and begging.