Long Unwilling Poems
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We met some friends at a brewery the other night
to celebrate another friend who was visiting after recently moving away.
We asked a stranger to take our picture
so we’d have more than just a memory to help us remember the day.
We huddled together and smiled under the shade of the brewery
“Perfect!” She said before snapping the picture then handing the phone back to me.
When I looked at the photo I had to smile.
There were our friends…there was Deborah and me…
celebrating a perfect moment…captured for eternity.
We live in an imperfect world…filled with hatred, prejudice….
with people unwilling to accept and to forgive….
a world where people die every day…
where children, killed by bombs or bullets never had a chance to live.
How do we navigate an imperfect world…filled with so much sadness and dejection?
First, we do whatever we can to help fix, heal or replace those imperfections…
While understanding even an imperfect world can have flashes of perfection…
to be found in moments of love, kindness, compassion, togetherness and affection.
Reconnecting with friends at a brewery was such a moment…
and for that moment we did our best with one imperfection of the world
to repair, replace…remove it!
And if you don’t think that is possible…
Take a look…I have the photograph to prove it.
Have you ever tried to open a locked door without a key
Or had a dream while awake, going about your day
Optimism says, when one door closes another opens
It doesn’t prepare us for the day we find them all locked, but…
If you can dream awake, can’t you just unlock them in your sleep
Clichés are available in any situation
Heartbreak and failure seem to be the most common
Why do we need them?
To misguide reality to a perspective of positivity.
No one enjoys sadness, but fake emotion only extends that dimension,
What if we feel what we feel and we wear it on our sleeve
Are we then viewed as weak
Doesn’t anyone believe that feelings should be judgment free
Or is it better to pretend that in your heart, there’s no one home
Paste on a smile but truth never takes a vacation from your eyes
Pain worn on the skin does far less damage than pain held within
A year of tears that shed pounds as they fall, or
A lifetime of regret that won’t heal trapped without air, in a shell
If it were easy to get over then you wouldn’t be dreaming with your eyes wide open
The heartbeat gives rhythm to feet unwilling to head in the right direction
When you’re done giving power to someone who doesn’t even want it.
You can see, missing pieces won’t make whole what been broken
So just leave the past where it started when life has spoken
December 19 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Hebrews 7-10
Key Verse – Hebrews 7:25 Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.
FAITH IN GOD WHO IS ABLE TO SAVE US TO THE UTTERMOST
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us completely whole
Upon our faith in Him, He redeemed our soul
By rescuing us from sin’s eternal goal
To become His ransomed creature with everlasting life and a spiritual role.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us graciously perfect
Upon our faith in Him, He cleansed our heart and intellect
By justifying us with His righteousness of pardon-project
To become His forgiven children whom He can protect and direct.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us divinely flawless
Upon our faith in Him, He sanctified our being though miserably worthless
By purging us with His blood that is immaculately spotless
To become His blessed saints, enjoying His gift, precious and priceless.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us genuinely decent
Upon our faith in Him, He reached out to our sinful state of idolatrous accent
By showing us His mercy, more than one hundred percent
To become His humble worshippers, offering our all as a sacrifice and present.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us radiantly modest
Upon our faith in Him, He abased our pride in our times so saddest
By revealing to us His sacrifice, always the grandest
To become His victorious followers midst the rebelliously toughest and hardest.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us serenely elegant
Upon our faith in Him, He upheld our service that is sincere, not arrogant
By enabling us with His might, superbly extravagant
To become His faithful stewards, submissive, never unwilling and adamant.
God is able to save us to the uttermost, making us magnificently royal
Upon our faith in Him, He called our name among the ones who are loyal
By commending us along His rewards for great achievement-portrayal
To become His grateful believers midst difficult trial and betrayal.
December 19, 2025
I am your little voodoo doll your little effigy, I am what you hate the most, your number one enemy
You made a model of me so that you could inflict pain at any time, and what did I do to deserve this punishment? What was my crime?
Is this your way of expressing your anger that you feel burning inside against me? Tell me why did you make me your poppet? Can’t you just let me be?
Oh, you casted this spell on me and I must live with this dreaded curse, I don’t know how to feel, you’re the one pulling the strings and that makes this so much worse
I trusted you with my heart and soul and you completely baffled me, you were evil from the start, but I just couldn’t see
You keep pushing and pulling these pins in and out, out and in, like this is all a game to you
Are you that cruel? Or just bored? With nothing better to do
Whenever I enter your mind I know because I feel the stick of the pin, and oh how clever you are, you think that you’re going to win
I’ll know when you’re done with this game and when you’ve moved on to your next victim to play, because I’ll be left lying useless like a ragdoll with nothing to say
I will be left with the ugly scars, the reminders of when you chose me, to be the unwilling pawn in this game that you have crafted so carefully
I wanted to be something to you but not what you made me to be, I wanted to be the good in you, not the cruel and witty
Why am I your enemy? Is it because I loved you too much? Or did I say something that offended you? Please tell me why you chose me to be your voodoo doll, go ahead end it all, and just push the pin all the way through.
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free
by Odin Roark
Corners to peer around
The harlequin of angles
Where peeking
Reveals
Where being stuck
Confines
Where feeling trapped
Separates
Our remembered child stands
Eyes squeezed shut
Face buried where two walls meet
Counting to one-hundred
While confidence sought
To play out our innocence
Beneath
Behind
Beside
A trusted game
Waned
Time passed
Shorts became pants
Pants became suits
Nostalgia echoed once more
“Ollie ollie oxen free”
Still we remained
Unwilling to believe
The forged sincerity
Baited with fiendish smile
Enticed with charm
Was but to set up
The next furtive trap
Suddenly
Acquiescence lay naked
Villainous schemers
Knowing but numbers
Who lured
Cajoled
Seduced
Our reluctance to cave
Are…
Later
We dragged ourselves away
Kicking and screaming
“We only wanted to play the game
Not be the game”
Emptiness invaded
Freedom to respond
To return home
To trust a voice
Wasn’t so
Anymore
Ollie ollie oxen free
So simple
So everlasting
Now but an epitaph
The crowd is gone.
Even the banners have tumbled,
damp scraps collapse against fences,
glued there by storm and breath.
Here, at mile thirteen,
the body speaks its own dialect:
ribs clattering like loose screen,
calves stuttering,
lungs threading sparks through the fabric
of my chest.
Still, I keep faith with motion.
Each footfall a defective prayer,
each muscle shivering,
but unwilling to betray me.
I remember the child I was,
running shoelaces through fields,
believing the world boundless,
believing endurance implied joy.
Now I know endurance
is the art of carrying grief
without letting it drown me.
It is learning to trust
that a horizon recedes
only to teach patience.
The audience disappears.
Even shadows seem to lag.
The only voice left
is the one I forge
between heartbeat and breath.
I do not race to conquer distance.
I race to prove
that I am still becoming
that even when torn open by fatigue,
the soul can strike a lantern
from pain.
And if the finish waits, let it wait.
Let it wait.
Here, in the thirteenth mile.
He quaked and recoiled
At the thing he beheld
Unwilling to sing, he uttered
...sound, forbidden
Why did he believe all was beauty
And power would come to him
....the one creating
He was the CREATOR
Wasn't it obvious
She...she's a she
Can't even carry a vibration
Much less a man of great status
Plain, not an ounce of attraction
To yield men at her feet
I, me, I will NOT sing
I will SPEAK
STONE, the very stone unsung
Became his casing
As greasy fibers pierced the ground
Reaching out to his creation
Building the war to end all rebellion
against LOVE
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-10-2022
Fat you were, beyond description.
Jabba the Hut had nuthin' on you.
From a scruffy little Brillo-pad sized stray
Your appetite ballooned you
To an incontinent continent of feline adiposity.
A fur covered Butterball turkey
With attitude
You never failed to fall below expectation,
Seemingly unable or unwilling
To grasp the concept of the litterbox.
To think we named you Shadow.
Even that part of you looked heavy.
You'd just sit on something that groaned beneath you,
Paw draped across that vast white belly,
And look at me like, "Well?"
Then one day,
Too chubbed to make it across the street in time,
Some car bopped your noggin
And knocked the life outta you.
They brought you to me
Unmarked yet dead;
I crammed your soft bulk into a bootbox
And buried you under our big tree out back.
Death gave you a measure of dignity
Unattainable in life,
As I suppose, in the end, it does us all.
A Carpenter’s Lament
Oh wood, from sapling to a mighty oak
That earth would bring you to the fore
You fall unwilling to the woodman’s stroke
And then my hands submit you to the saw
Where once those soaring boughs reached to the sky
And creatures of the forest sought to rest
Lovers carved their names with passions’ sigh
The wind, a force, to put your strength to test
Caressed in hands, deftest with a tool
Your majesty is slowly stripped away
Into a chair, a table, seems so cruel
For our comfort that’s the price you pay
Though be the fashioned piece of great beauty
It be your former life, remains supreme to me
Richard D Seal.
Written 24 Dec 2013
For Nette Onclaud Contest
‘With These Hands’
Inspired by Visual 3
Thanatos granted him a morbid dream in overdrive
the grim reaper at first in the distance of slumber
quietly wielded a blunt axe in dendritic surprise
as if to prolong agony and awakening of the slaughter
both victim and perpetrator of his unwilling demise
he did not put up much of a fight or resistance
knowing full well that meaning might come on arousal
in the shadows maybe but still coherent and lucidly clear
it was not unpleasant no anger fear nor resentment
more nonplussed and startling in surrender and disguise
the end is near he conceded in rational anticipation
the only question being which final conclusion to make