Long Undeterred Poems
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To celebrate Earth Day I went out early to watch the Lyrid Meteor shower make its yearly visit past Jupiter and Mars.
Why would I celebrate Earth day you might ask…by looking for shooting stars?
Shooting stars are rare…a momentary flash across the sky…
the flicker of an angel’s wings…over in the blink of an eye.
Whenever I see a shooting star…hear that evanescent swish…
It has been my tradition…to close my eyes…and make a wish.
(Yes, my brain tells me it’s just a rock…that once it hits our atmosphere it’s dead
but my heart tells me I’m getting a tiny peek at an angel overhead.)
A random shooting star, as I just mentioned, is over in a blink…
which doesn’t give the person wishing a lot of time to think.
But a scheduled meteor shower…I stood resolute and steady!
awaiting their arrival…my one wish at the ready.
It was a wish for the Earth on Earth day…a wish for all of us too…
that peace, acceptance and love will guide us in everything we do.
That’s why I woke up early this Earth Day…why I was gazing up at the ebony sky
to send a wish for peace and happiness…to be caught by an angel passing by.
Today’s sky, however, was overcast…clouds filled up the air…
Undeterred I kept wishing on stars I knew were shooting there….
Over and over again I sent my wish up to the sky…out over the ocean blue
hoping angels would catch it…and make that dream come true.
My brain tells me thinking shooting stars are angels I can wish upon is a fantasy…
and might not be that smart…
but when it comes to making wishes…
on Earth Day
and every day…
I tend to listen to my heart.
IN A GILDED INSTANT
The monarch’s wings opened as a picture book, fluttering by. It glided, uncertain but undeterred, through a gentle haze of gold and shadow, the garden’s hush punctuated by the faint murmur of leaves. Sunlight filtered in rare skeins, dappling the monarch’s patterned wings as it hovered, hesitated, and then pressed onward—a flicker stitched between petal and air. The world, for one gilded instant, seemed spun from elegant silk.
Painted in oranges, kissed with black lace,
the monarch glides through the air and
pirouettes in a ballet of grace.
Oh, to witness her beauty, a fleeting affair
a living poem, a jeweled muse~
a moment suspended in delicate air.
(Poem written for USPS Stamp Poetry Contest, Robert James Liguori, sponsor)
He enters a home, while they sleep tonight
Staking out rooms, not touching the lights
The scent of essence, heightens attraction
His insatiable instinct, demands satisfaction
Safely in bed, firearm tucked between pillows
Undeterred, He senses a breath as it billows
Wait distraction, another choice has arisen
Spoilt rotten tonight, on his insidious mission
Sweeter attraction, something else is in bed
Perspiration of fornication, on a lovers head
Cannot control incredible urge, now he strikes
Into bare flesh, sinking a proboscis like knife
That’s it yes, over and over, keeps stabbing
Finally a blood vessel pulses, calms attacking
Oh the bliss, that’s found in orgies of gore,
Just then a slap, damn mosquito’s no more.
Podium placing promise(6) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 11/01/2021
16 lines
That Secret Place That Glows
Now alone she ponders the persuasive reality of emotive vulnerability
The stranger vanished while magical moments persisted and lingered on
Sleight of hand is a nemesis obliged to invoke the dynamics of incongruity
Undeterred are elements of rapture like sand dunes on a distant blue lagoon
Instants in retrospect revealing acts of what transpired provokes no surprise
Depicting scenes of tough roller coaster rides and confrontations with woes
Seeking solace from failed endeavors the heart harkens to own the prize
Courage trump defeat leading her love to that secret place that glows
Penned:
08/03/2016
West palm Beach
Florida
USA
Blest to be ministered to by God, I’ve uttered:
“Thank You, Lord; make my life around You be centered
Though trial-blistered and faith in You had faltered
I still heard You cheering me; such indeed mattered.”
Grace-watered with Christ’s wondrous kindness encountered
I whispered sincere prayer of trust, hope-glittered
Confessing timid heart, fear-fettered; guilt-pestered…
As my spirit He revives; from doubts, undeterred.
Praise-filled, my worshipful soul He cleansed has mustered:
“Yours am I, dear Saviour Who can’t be flattered
Since You know me so well; fixed my life, then cluttered…
Your love freed me; now like a dove, I’m joy*-fluttered.”
*Psalm 32:11 Be glad in the LORD, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.
October 5, 2020
3rd place, "MAX 14 lines POEM-inspired prompt" Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 10/12/2020.
There is nothing left to see
if we all become complacent
accepting without resistance a party's statement
to the slow erosion of democracy.
Senators and congress wade undeterred
in party woes and power hold desires
as radical right and radical left sink within the mire
and the only voices heard are of the absurd.
We can no longer see the forest from the trees
while on the hill within the inner chambers rant
common sense and truth are crushed by the dance
holding hostage the people's faith seized.
Save the corporations, allow the rich to reign
the twenty-first century strains the lies most cruel
with little hope of - for the people, by the people rule
the average American dream slips away again.
As cave-dweller O man, thou wert crudest,
Ere civilized and a bit social made,
In a painstaking long march to the crest,
Evolving— a seed of creed mutated,
Ye struggled long before brought home baked bread,
As weeds lose out ere mutate in maze
Of labyrinthine lanes darker than dread,
From chaos were created newer ways.
No growth hast grown that would not get modest,
Undeterred, no head hath moved nigh ahead,
All progress in time tends to pause post-haste,
As brightest rainbows fizzle out to fade—
The nature of Nature none can evade,
Nature unfolds in long phase, not in days,
To vales turn top peaks that were once jaded,
Creation as comes in chaotic ways.
In eons human hope kissed vales and crest,
Surviving in cosmic womb, never dead,
Suffering birth pain quite un-manifest,
Remember, yon of that tall mountain head
Lies your fond dream. Do walk on, go ahead,
Not just on peaks, hope lives in vales, at base,
In journey too to enjoy, never dread,
A way forward comes from chaotic ways.
Envoi
Keep climbing, if hope be the only aid,
Inhale hope in every breath, don’t just gaze,
At rope’s end, O hang on by just hope-led,
For, from chaos are built morrow’s fairways.
____________________________________
Musings | 03.02.2011 | Hope
Poet’s note: Heart, it seems, lives on the edge of hope. The brooding head hesitates, delves into new depths, meanders, groping for a way out. Seeing the way much of the world is moving today, one tends to indulge in melancholic thoughts. Has man lost all hopes? I don't know but hope, it’s not so. Civilization, I suspect, is an inverted bell-shaped curve. Things get worse before they get better. Read also my ‘Hope: A bird wordless that sings', a ballade.
Glenn Hughes's "City of Crime", from the film Dragnet, shows us what happens when a municipality goes astray. The city - Los Angeles. This story, which is also true, depicts another town which has lost its way. You know it by the name "Gotham". The names have not been changed, to protect nobody.
Oh, how I love my home, good ol’ Gotham City!
It’s just enough grimy and just the right gritty.
It has Batman, the greatest crusader against crime.
I wouldn’t leave this cesspool, nope, not anytime.
But lately, Batman is gaining the upper hand.
Time for the sleazebags and criminals to expand.
The Dark Knight has no sense of humor when he works.
His face never changes when he beats up the jerks.
The Joker finds humor in any situation -
Laughing his head off at some sick deviation.
He said he’d grow into a comic, and they laughed.
They’re not laughing now, as he practices his craft.
The Riddler gives our brains some things to consider.
He’s a laughing puzzle and conundrum transmitter.
He asked us “what does a liar do when he’s dead?”
“He lies still” is what he eventually said.
The deformed Penguin’s mother threw him in the river.
He’d grow up in the sewers, but he would forgive her.
The creep learned a lot in that revolting world of slop -
He owns the mayor and police to the very last cop.
Where do the city’s lawyers come down in this mess?
They can’t get these dirtballs and clowns to confess.
To pin a rap, they should plug away undeterred,
But they’re off in the Poconos looking for a bird.
Add a new weirdo to this corruption and slime,
To tip the balance to the purveyors of crime.
Batman, meet the man who speaks only in rhyme.
The Rhymer makes your face look like it just ate a lime.
In a world where respect is scarce,
Where voices scream, hearts bear the scars,
There lies a dream of peace and grace.
Where freedom reigns in every space.
The powerless are those who yearn
To taste the sweet fruit they cannot earn,
To sleep at night, their minds at peace,
Via serious reflection, their souls will find release.
But they fight on; they imagine a world.
Where freedom's flag is proudly unfurled,
Where leadership is not a struggle for power,
But a quest to protect and empower.
In the face of the irate and the treacherous,
They stand strong, their voices thunderous.
Such a storm, they rise with unwavering charm.
Guided by a hope that will never disarm.
Their fight is not in vain.
Their resilience echoes through the pain.
They sound the alarm for justice and rights.
No longer silenced, they shine their light.
In this battle for freedom, they will not fall.
Their spirit is unbreakable, standing tall.
They recognize the stakes are high.
But they refuse to let their dreams die.
With each step, they protect what is dear.
Their determination is clear.
No longer hopeless, they find their way.
toward a brighter, most peaceful day.
Echoes of freedom resound within their soul.
Fueled by a fire that is not under control,
They march forward, undeterred by the fight.
The power of their dreams ignites.
The Spoken Word is wisdom heard.
I knew a poet undeterred,
chose sounds profound or twists of rhyme,
whipped the words that could change time.
A bard who lets you see these things
that shouldn't be, pulling heart strings,
telling tall tales of lore and love,
calling on powers from up above.
This poet then would wield that quill
which makes readers switch their will.
Praises pour in as the buckets fill
from others whose worn words stand still.
There is but one major missing,
heard it like a serpent's hissing,
ever lurking, preys on the mind -
it was wisdom, one could not find!
So the poems the poet wrote
were full of flow, music and note;
they lacked just that single thing -
only a great poet can bring!
8/31/20