Long Trader Poems
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Life's More Than A Three-Act Play
In A One Horse Town
By: Tom Wright
9/2/98
Life,
is that physical period of time,
separating birth from death,
in which almighty God,
grants auditions for eternity.
I came not, nor will I leave, by my choice.
Whether or not I play a part,
in this great drama, is also not an option.
I was, however, given a choice
of how I wish to play that part.
Being under God's spotlight,
where nothing is hidden,
it then behooves me to live my life,
in and for Jesus Christ, under his direction.
Forsaking earthly treasures,
preferring instead, Heavenly ones.
Not being a short term trader,
but investing long term in eternal security,
remembering that it isn't my skill
in playing my part, but God's grace.
Then when the final curtain falls
on my life, and my spirit rendered to God,
I'll be greeted either
by the sound of applause,
or of weeping and gnashing of teeth.
I'll never settle for well water
on a dirt road when crystal clear water
on streets of gold is available.
Jesus, makes life a fun place to be.
Courtesy the mighty Amazon successful deliverance reported...
Regarding unexpected Gadshill gift
(as if delivered from Magi)
tamper proof wrapped,
thus an obligation goads me
to communicate following
trademarked™ poetically apt
reasonable rhyme capped
with feeble airborne attempt,
no matter arms waved futilely,
madly, and ridiculously flapped
fortunately I eluded being kidnapped
by men in white coats
spellbound and rapt
before arriving at 20965 Young Avenue
Bend, Oregon 97703-8461
without energy being zapped.
The abovementioned transmission to whit
hesitantly, yet immediately, wisely scuttled
cuz analogous to Icarus, a free spirit
ignoring Daedalus warning soaring
too close to the sun
earning stronger epithet than "you nit"
true to adolescent hubris,
the son blithely ignoring
his father as a hypocrite,
but honest to goodness truthfulness
of above line entails
caution and discretion I readily admit.
Just now, I sample
Navitas Organics blueberry
hemp power snack(s)
wondering how many chewy squares
yours truly needs to consume
before me noggin
goes wickety wickety wack,
but... just maybe amply ingested
cubed plant based superfood
could allow, enable and
provide me means to take flight,
whereby off gray carpeted tarmac
goes Matthew Scott Harris.
So best be on the lookout okey doke
for one nondescript buzzfeeding bloke
long haired pencil necked geek fella,
who juiced awoke
and suddenly found himself at Trader Joe's
(with a twenty dollar gift card)
among garden variety generic folk
such as special people spanning Costco calendar,
who sport and trumpet surnames such as
Dunning, Harris, McGeehan no joke,
yet amidst madding crowd there could be
spy versus spy donning dagger and cloak.
anyway hoop fully thee above laughter did evoke,
perhaps e'en yar own literary juices
I didst unwittingly stoke.
Even though days of life lived with
(all my children now grown) ail
ling soul of stifled for want of indulging
in ordinary experiences bewail
ling deprivation of accomplishing
healthy milestones regret a cold detail
reminding me as aging process speeded
as if an onset of late progeria fail
lings in this once skinny as twig youth,
now thinning hair bothersome - hail
yes (suspected cause underactive thyroid,
blood test will confirm), a jail
unseen by anybody even me finds spontaneity
bound from within this male,
whose counterproductive antics sought
to compensate for lost time did imp pale
and figuratively crucify myself at the
emotional expense of "star student" rail
ling (recent time gone by), thee (to her)
unforgivable hurt, the stuff of a true tale,
this papa does resign himself unintentional
misery untraversable unbridgeable gulf
the expanse of a yawning Rhode Island
sized Leviathan whale.
oh...thank you for the Trader Joe's gift card
this dirt poor mortal doth leave ye
with his cumulative loving re:guard
aware hiatus of estrangement (FROM ME)
the sad story of my life with mom, dad,
two loving sisters, who tried so hard
to reach out only to be rebuffed, as well
Abby, Eden, Shana deserving of so
much more joy...sorry girls dada starred
and created in his own living nightmare -
alone in a wilderness more bleak than Siberia,
within a solo battle pierced by my
own Damoclean Sword!
A MAN WHO FAILED TO LIVE
I have lived life like a trader with many a crate of eggs
Treading carefully to avoid the judging eyes of men
A freedom from condemnation have i consciously begged
Refraining from adventures since i was nine or ten
I have counted my steps and watched for stones
I have taken no decision that was unpredictable
Here i sit with grey hair and weakened bones
Having no wild memories upon my own life's table
I was a slave bought by fear and sold to ordinariness
I was an oaf who existed but failed woefully to live
Like a man of no ambition honored by tardiness
Lacking that experience and wisdom the aged should freely give
"Regret is a slow visitor" a wise man once said
Crawling sluggishly with man to remind man of time
When man is but compelled to lay upon life's bed
He nods his head and wishes he could reverse the hands of time
Now here I am; a man bent over and humbled by age
With brown and scanty teeth and wrinkles in my eyes
Staring bitterly upon my very own empty page
No heroic deed, no risk, nothing to reminisce
The mirror smiles at me mocking my shameful reflection
For I have lived life as a coward too afraid to be judged
So, My son, experience a life that replicates satisfaction
Be brave enough to live and to a worthy course be pledged
By: Adams O Elizabeth
Lizdiamond Poetry World
171 E Swedesford Rd,
Unexpected positive experience
with regular totally tubular
gnarly patron first name Maureen
hmm... if only this burbling blurb
blog could somehow
be communicated - pro bono, cuz green
legal tender (mine) scarce -
anyway earlier
today December sixteenth
two thousand and nineteen
ah, my dog how serendipitously
I did germanely, modestly,
quintessentially shepherd convenient
rhyme with reason (hubble spontaneity)
three, five, eight, plus
this line thirteen...
(you get the idea, si?)
with eyes shut tight e'en
absentmindedly maneuvering "fake"
steering wheel, while zee queen
(think four foot eleven
spouse wearing spongebob
pajama pants) profusely thanked
police seeing eye dog approaching
and barking unforeseen
drove sitting on his haunches
on driver seat cop cruiser
smack dab nabbit
on our figurative docked toured tail
emulating crash test dummy
nearly didst almost careen
into our two thousand
and nine Hyundai Sonata
gave spouse faux paw high five
while flock of seagulls,
eagles, black crows...,
attired with red and green
holiday outfits suddenly appeared clean
(white hove out blizzard)
out of thin air nearly collided
with our self driving
automobile I amazingly
gratefully dodged tween
twenty plus miles north east
back to Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania, where this mean,
(once lean twice shy)
poetry (aye sup prose) writing machine,
now exuberant poet hoping
to garner (no bull lariat) keen
punny hush meant toward anybody
including trumpeting mujahedeen
hoot aches objection, which
courtesy self typing keyboard really
cool and groovy power
(smart thinkpad) reads my mind
pressing corresponding key visible
on Lenovo external large screen.
The intrigued course of subjugation history,
turned the trader into the ruler, enforcing
the British sovereignty in the Indian subcontinent
for seemingly endless decades.
Many valiant attempts of liberation failed,
the chains of domination remained unbroken,
till the persistent persuasion of non-violent stir
became the surging independence movement,
shaking ultimately the citadel of the empire,
whose sun was to set in the east
on August 15, 1947 when the awakened nation
saw the new sunrise with colors of freedom,
but with a colossal human cost
paid by the millions of uprooted people,
the displaced refugees losing homes
in the wake of territorial partition.
Yet the generations down the time line,
breathing the free air in the free country,
won’t ever forget this historic day.
(On August 15, 1947 the Indian subcontinent became independent
from the British Empire, following the non-violent movement led by
Mahatma Gandhi. The freedom came with the travails of partition
(forming India and Pakistan) for the hapless millions of displaced
refugees who were the witness to this historic event).
September 24, 2020
Contest : A Historic Event
Sponsor : William Kekaula
A video was on the news
In front of Trader Joe’s
Where anti-maskers want to shop
And this is how it goes:
The manager and other staff
Stay calm but do not budge,
Repeating that for all beliefs
They aren’t there to judge.
However, as a private store
They get to make the rules
With wearing masks required,
Which each anti- ridicules.
The store is well within its rights
But still the group won’t leave,
Convinced the law is on their side;
The truth they can’t perceive.
At Trader Joe’s, employees
Have been noted for displays
Of friendliness and patience;
Someone give these guys a raise!
I'm reading weird stuff about how time is not real,
so, I'm counting steps and watching
how clocks tend to watch each other.
Inside Trader Joe's, kids arrive out of nowhere,
of course, I am in the fancy snack aisle,
and small aliens are always popping in and out
of those candy dreams.
I look at my ten-dollar watch,
amazingly it is still working after 2 months of hard use,
It's about 10 minutes slow,
or is this Eastern time zone too fast?
The parking lot traffic is crawling or has come to a halt.
Clearly marked time-shifting spaces try hard to avoid
random dings.
Back home, I open the weird book again.
It explains that even now, in another reality,
I am being placed on a booster seat
in an intergalactic vehicle
clearly yelling for more candy.
The winds of change blow in time’s course,
waft from an unseen end to another unknown.
The momentum they gather from the power
of the flow of history goes on increasing ever.
The direction they receive from the message,
the geopolitical events provide, can’t be altered.
The future inscribed on nation’s landscape page,
people earnestly design, can’t be changed.
Totalitarian regimes blow away in gale of uprising,
empires collapse in due time in rebellious squalls.
All ordained to meet the change from the start,
their vestiges lie scattered in the pages of history.
The mankind seeking freedom as the birth right,
breaks the disparaging shackles of repression.
Indomitable spirit rises from the dust of suppression,
new generations of belief and value emanate
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change the winds generate.
The strike of destined time arrows of rebellion
dismantles ultimately the authoritarian regimes.
The intriguing course of subjugation history,
turned the innocuous trader into the ruler,
letting British sovereignty in Indian subcontinent
enforce subjugation for endless agonizing decades.
Many valiant attempts of liberation failed,
the chains of domination remained unbroken,
till the persistent persuasion of non-violent protests
became the surging independence movement,
shaking ultimately the citadel of the empire,
whose sun was to set permanently in the east
on August 15, 1947, when the nation awakened,
saw the new sunrise with colors of freedom,
but with an unprecedented colossal human cost
paid by the millions of uprooted innocent people,
the displaced refugees losing their homes
in the wake of territorial partition of the country.
The generations down the timeline built new lives,
breathing free air in the independent country.
From this space station, Sherman's Planet is in proximity.
However, the Klingons claim it's within their sovereignty.
One of their ships has arrived and docked recently.
Their are many of those obnoxious aliens roaming freely.
This was an absolutely unexpected confrontation.
I have a feeling there will be an inevitable altercation.
A trader name Cyrano Jones has brought a curious creature.
They are tiny, and cuddly animals with a furry feature.
They purr like kittens and are the center of fascination.
However, their big downside it their over-proliferation.
Tribbles hate Klingons, and Klingons don't like them too.
I wonder what will happen to Kirk and his Enterprise crew?
Based on the episode "The Trouble With Tribbles" of the original "Star Trek" series.