Long Walk up Poems
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Sernabtim and Jaycee nagar terrace
4th &12 th and 13th december2011
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I have cheated my fears alright,
I have broken up with my doubts uptight,
I got engaged to my faith last night,
I married my dreams at the sight of first light.
I am not afraid to get up today,
I am not afraid to wake up to another day today,
I am not afraid to open my eyes today,
I am not afraid to climb out of bed today.
I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.
I am ready to face the world all alone,
I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone.
I am ready to say anything to anyone,
I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun.
I am ready to yell from mountain tops,
I am ready to dive from ravine drops.
I am ready to walk for a cause,
I am ready to run to protect environmental laws.
I am ready to understand tangled issues,
I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues.
I am ready to jump out from a moving truck,
I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck.
I am ready to be creative again,
I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain.
I am ready to sing my own songs,
I am ready to correct my own wrongs.
I am ready to throw a stone afar,
I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar.
I am ready to write notes about me,
I am ready to put them up for all to see.
I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley,
I am ready to pluck the fruits from the orchards of Sally.
I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.
I am free as a bird
Ready to discover this wondrous world
I am dressed to the nines
Seeking a knight in shining armor
He will be handsome alright
Defending me from life’s lows and sorrows
I shall be his flower, ready to be plucked
Oh my petals shall lust for his kiss
The big city a delight, as I shop all night!
As I gaze upon the handsome men all over
I am hopeful one shall take my hand
So they we might begin a lovers journey
Night time jazz, clubs filled with hazy smoke
Man after man after drink and nothing of substance
What’s a pretty girl to do?
Another night of blackness and no shining black knight
So off I wander to the city park
The lush smell of green filling the air
There is a graveyard up over there
A promenade among the dead
There under the moonlit sky, is an old man
His hair all white, his dress somewhat wrinkled
He seems to star into nothingness
Ah but his eyes are clear blue like the ocean true
I am abashed yet I stare into these crystal blue eyes
Something stirs from within me, yes I see as clear as day
The kindness and compassion within this weathered old man
I lose my breath, this is foolish for I just know somehow, I know I know
I walk up to him, and kiss him on the lips as I should not
This is not me, yet I know this is exactly me, I just know
He looks with sadness, and says simply "I am a dead man, from long ago"
I kiss him once more and say “I will return three days hence and we shall see"
Three days later, like a statue he stands stoically still and almost in fear
I take his hand, and whisper, life is full of miracles
We have no time to lose, I see into your beauty and I see into your pain
Hold me and love me, I am yours completely, in the falling rain
and the story goes like this . . .
I walk up the dusty, dark staircase that had been my favorite place,
playing with my dolls, make believe, dreaming of meeting a prince;
Wanting to grow up, but that was many years ago, many heartbreaks ago,
my reason today, Grandma has left this world and all in the attic is mine.
The door has not been opened in years, it creaks and groans as I push,
I stand in the doorway, finding the courage to enter the dampness;
The sun filters in through a small window, dust drifts, cobwebs lace the corners,
the atmosphere silent, like death, echoing of the past as I look about.
No one else wants any of this, they call it junk, only I know the treasures,
passing by an old lamp, a stroller, a rocking chair, a chest of drawers, a bed;
Portraits of ancestors long forgotten, dusty old things, treasures from the past,
a peacefulness comes over me but I am searching for something special.
And there it is pushed into a corner, an antique chest, long forgotten,
it holds the vintage clothing, jewelry, and writings of the child that was me;
Things I had treasured playing dress up, pretending, making up stories,
kneeling, my hand touches the ornate surface brushing away dust.
Slowly, I open the lid, peeking inside, everything is there as I had left it,,
my eyes fill with tears, memories swirling in my head of that little girl;
Dressed up in Grandma's old clothes, writing stories on the attic room floor,
stories that will become poems for I have found my lost treasure chest.
___________________________
July 21, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/Let me tell you a story
Copyright Protected, ID 07-494-069-21
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Submitted to Premier contest, Your Best Poem,
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton, Judged 07/2013
Second Place
______________________________
Submitted to the Standard contest, Any Old Poem #4,
sponsor, Skat,
Third Place
__________________________________
Submitted to the Standard contest, Treasure Chest,
Anthony Slausen,
Fourth Place
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NISkmC_4bNQ
When we are done lingering in this world of ours
we'll walk up the road to that place of sanction
where the ocean will meet our bloom with a smile
bringing thoughts of sisterhood and brother time
We will link arm to arm and glide onto the shore
rolling small pebbles in the palm of our hands
Sandy dreams of health will not elude us nor be hazy
in this world of sound life, like velvet to our ears
We will run and not perish nor ever be lonely or crave
in this world that once launched rocket ships to stars ;
We will now send our hearts to the moon,
and all of this for the sake of love, yes its coming soon
the day of reckoning is over, the elements of truth are clear
we will be saved, as health and prosperity draws near.
And so be it, says the last Namaste
Your Mystic Rose :)
The cold stairs,
the cold, hard, stairs,
the cold, hard concrete stairs,
the cold, hard, concrete, piss-stained stairs.
He climbs,
climbs to the stars, the cold, hard stars,
climbs to the starlight
that glitters in his black eyes.
.
Thighs walk up a spine.
Upwards, bootlaces tugging a brain.
,
Head dizzy, legs stretched up
into a light-bulb head,
tortured tendons
trembling elastic bands.
He leans his cold, wet forehead,
on a locked, wet, metal door,
his body is bent like a question mark.
He sees distant glimmers,
glimmers of starlight,
starlight
down,
way down in the cold, black stairwell.
After the fourth day of a full moonlit night
In the month of Kartick arrives the festival of Karva Chauth
A ritual to the testament of love and devotion
Amongst married Hindu couples.
The wife has kept fast since sunrise
For the longevity and health of her husband
All decked up in her finery and bejeweled
Matching the stars in the ornate sky
Together they walk up to the terrace
Then catching a glimpse of the moon
Through a flour sieve
She looks back at him with love and admiration
Breaking her fast by sipping water from her husband's hand.
Many a legend surrounds this festival of love, faith and devotion.
While the waning moon cast romantic beams of light
Flooding the lands below.
Will turn back the pages of my life to a day,
where I am walking slowly with father;
and a dog barks,
and a bird sings.
We traverse a nearby woods exploring nature,
looking at rocks and find a bird feather;
later, we walk up steep steps of a church,
with an interior beautiful still and quiet.
Why do things change ?
Why, do Dad's die ?
And then I walked,
and explored alone !
___________________
April 9, 2021
Poetry/Fragmented Verse/My Invention/A Page From My Childhood
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1360-014-09
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (Apr 11)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 04/10/2021
First Place
"She walked in darkness," was a contest entry for Mrs. Campbell of All Poetry. The first part is the actual entry, the way it was composed. The second part is my expanded Poetry Soup version.***
"She walked in darkness and imprisonment. Because she preached the gospel in a closed nation. She walk up to the guillotine and said,"Lord, forgive them."***
"She Walked in Darkness."
She walked all alone in utter and complete despair and total darkness and imprisonment. She was tried and convicted and found guilty of preaching the
redeeming gospel of Jesus Christ in a closed gospel nation.
On the memorable day of her public execution, she prayed the righteous and effectual prayer of a modern day Saint. "Into thine hands my Lord and my God! I commend my spirit into Thy loving and and Thy Victorious hands! Oh death where is Thy sting! Oh grave where is Thy Victory!"
Boldly with her head erected and her eyes burning with righteous fire! She slowly walked up to the guillotine, laid down her head, and loudly said," Behold I see the Son of the Living God, Jesus Christ standing in his throne room! "Lord Jesus, please forgive them, for they know not what they do!"
Later her executioner, and those who passed unfair judgement upon her said. "The bold and courageous lady had the face of an angel!" The general public would confirm it as well.
The windows of heaven opened up to receive the free spirit of a modern day saint. Two heavenly angels escorted her into the presence of the Son of God! And He welcomed her both into His divine presence and into His Kingdom. And gave her an excellent accommodation!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
December 10, 2020
A glow of amber light burst from beneath the thick dark clouds
At first I thought winter was coming to a close but it quietly fades away.
Even on the coldest morning I could walk up and down the street sipping hot tea from my long blue cup without wearing a winter jacket but this morning's cold was somewhat peculiar, it stings and swindled every joint in my body
and the more I sip the colder I become.
It wasn't the cold that concerned me but the grim energy that surrounds me
Customs, habits ,practices, lifestyles and sophistication
The moon looked like the sun and it feels as if winter has just began.
A winter that has lasted for more than a decade
A winter that has caused a total lock down
Not even man or beast could be found
thus forcing everyone underground.
But I have learnt from an early age how to conquer fear
so to be honest, I don't have any fear
I am the valiant tree looking bravely over the horizon
and no force can conquer me.
The stinging cold penetrated my porous knitted gloves and found it's way
into my hollow shoe worn out from my journey over this tethered ground.
The wound was so deep spilling agony up and down my blistered feet
Instantaneously the amber glow became brighter and moon appeared bigger
resting boldly on top of the dark clouds but something kept forcing it out.
My meditation was brief
My tea became cold
And the blistering frost fully infiltrate my tired frame
My entire body was numb but mercy saved my from this treacherous cold.
Full moon with rain
Full moon with snow
Full moon with heat
But never have I experienced a full moon with such precarious chill
It's Winter in Spring.
OVERBEARING
When you walk up upon two people talking
And they shun you turn away start walking
Cold non endearing
Never ending so not caring
Overbearing
Wait your turn don't interrupt the corrupt
And those problems bag them up
Place those worries in a locked closet
Cold non endearing, never ending so not caring
Overbearing
Distrubuting the prviacy of others
Does it matter abundant covers
Don't be abrasin or impatient
This is a new revelation
Overbearing
It's not that your not important
Cold non endearing
Never ending so not caring
So just wait for your space
And when your late the groups already started
Don't be broken hearted
You enter in but all eyes on you
Don't resist in your hues or views
Place those worries in a locked closet
Cold non endearing, never ending so not caring
Overbearing
3/3/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©