Long Whose Poems
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There is a movement amongst Republican ranks
in The United States Congress, regarding the
the absence of religion in schools, and its
herald revival, like some Bible Belt Tent
-- minus the tambourines, being it is
The Halls of Congress -- after all.
In the wings awaits assorted
groups whose numbers had
enlarged, recently, due to
liberal channels, and that
is not of recent long ere
the days of backwoods
racism, --not all guilty
be the righteous few.
It's as if my, 'White
Lies' short story
-- resurrected.
Satanist sides with
the right wing in
hopes, it seem
they've filed a
proper docs.
to be a type
viable sort,
of faith be
admitted.
FYIs
Automobile blues fuels exhausting lament...
Indicator light signaling door(s) ajar
least significant issue concerning
2009 Hyundai Sonata car
applauded craftsmanship darn exemplar,
thus said vehicle deserves favorable avatar,
nonetheless vehicular maintenance
exceeds king's ransom by far
takes lion's share comprising regular
costs of living bar
none versus stream lined budget
regarding: accommodations,
food, medical coverage... far,
and away much more amenable
regarding no frills bizarre
lifestyle of yours truly plus costar
ring the missus, (who lacks
income unearned or otherwise)
our saving grace courtesy avuncular
Uncle Sam, he electronically deposits
social security disability embar
hissing mendicant wannabe
mental illness exacerbated
meting scant monies weakens flimsy pillar
buttressing minimalist existence par
for the course financial angst
ratchets psychological radar
impending crisis looming me... war
reed upkeep with automobile
which additionally includes... Omar
dog: lapsed emission/ inspection
passenger right side tire slow leak,
like gray matter of former scholar,
whose accomplishment
less substantial than agar
on petri dish loathes
his tractless doomed station,
nor his he advocate being a beggar,
yet series of unfortunate events
(thank ye Lemony Snicket)
bedrock steadfast credo secular
humanist never doth waver
amidst adversity though
perpetually unmoored buoy
weighed and zee gull live insular
lives bitterly weathering
psychic pestilential buggar.
November 21 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 21-23
Key Verse – Acts 21:14 …The will of the Lord be done.
FAITH IN GOD WHOSE WILL IS PERFECT
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His might
With faith’s purpose according to Scriptural insight
Surely upholding our belief on what is right
Toward walking in His light.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His instruction
With faith’s power according to Biblical revelation
Surely guiding our decision and action
Toward accomplishing by His direction.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His command
With faith’s performance according to divine demand
Surely propelling our obedience, led by His hand
Toward accomplishing what He has planned.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His aim
With faith’s priority according to virtuous claim
Surely checking our motives against worldly fame
Toward exalting His magnificent name.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His favour
With faith’s principle according to stewardship fervour
Surely giving our labour a sweet-smelling savour
Toward presenting to Him our service of acceptable flavour.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His desire
With faith’s pursuit according to spiritual fire
Surely reviving our souls as for His answers we inquire
Toward learning from His Word until we retire.
God Whose will is perfect must be done by His vision
With faith’s progress according to heavenly permission
Surely keeping our welfare around His compassion
Toward testifying about His ready provision.
November 21, 2025
Sacral veil that shrouds bright hopes, dark fears
Screening altar that christens so deep a bond
Scrolled with the innocence of carefree years
Sacrificial shutter signifying all self-serving interests will abscond
Separating from the corporeal ties that correspond
Shade shielding truant desires from the dawning light
Mantle that merges burgeoning stems into fertile frond
Curtain hiding fawning beauty; maiden's honor not to spite
Mysterious tapestry woven to purposely slight, then seemlessly delight
Universal symbol sanctioning fealty, consecrating fidelity
Satin awning whose placid eaves opprobrium doth disquiet
Temporal cloth lifted; two souls span the bridge to immortality
Ceremonial threads relegated to the scrapbook of blanching time
Cherished patent that spawned a new love in it's prime
THE ME THAT SHE LIKES IN ME.
The only me she likes in me
Is the me of me only on bed,
For my me is full , strong and lanky.
She is ever laughing vivaciously
On, beside ,with and under me,
Never tired but smiling during
The game called “Bedminton”.
I hardly picks point for
She is a non-stop poacher
Poaching and hitting endlessly
Till I fade away finally.
She was of no special brain
Neither does she got unique intellect
But she is of everything in “Bedminton” .
I became very lanky as she grumbles
And complain of nothing but lacking something
Despite sucking my bulky lanky “corkky”.
I fled into a hiding , gasping and hoping
Not to have her cross my path again’
Oh no ! here she comes again
Laughing with a rare vigour.
Off I went on the ground as I opened
My eyes at the hospital two days after.
What happened to me ? I echoed
“Thanked God he is alive ,Doctor
Come and discharge us , lets go home”
I fainted again beholding her voice
And her very mean look
Her laughter more stronger than
That of an hyena whose pray is around
I was not too sure if I will ever wake up again.
Alayande Stephen T
16th April, 2006
3.15pm
Spiced up story depicting my same friend with her
Same heartthrob who his battling to abscond from.
OUR
Form:
She met the “perfect man” for her,
All she’d ever dreamt of,
Strong, tall, with sex appeal,
This was the one she would love,
Cuddling when she needed a hug,
A rose to stroke all her ache,
This one “perfect man” was all she wanted,
This one was not a mistake,
So she moved on in with this one “perfect man”,
This one she wanted the most,
But fretted the day to invite the fam ‘round,
Fretted to reveal to the folks,
This one "perfect man" she loved more than herself,
Whose love was never in doubt,
Was the one “perfect woman” she’d grown up beside,
The only one who knew she’d come out.
String your rifles and turn them to guitars,
O seething lords of the caliphate,
And with the darling doves let your missiles fly
in echelon, leaving dark owls behind.
The lord's children yearn more for music and
pretty sights in the sky!
But look what you serve them: pillage,
bondage, sacrilege, ...
All in the name of Heaven!
Hell's favorite dishes -- how well you cook
them!
Your vicious band of soiled souls roam the
sands of Arabia,
Weaving a plague of death and anarchy, and
how you delight in it!
Treasures that even vandals spared, you have
readily speared:
Churches, books, monuments, ...
Not one have you skipped in this orgy of terror.
But Heaven in whose name you hurt now grieves;
her tears well up in the hearts of the virtuous.
Slowly they’ll gather into furious streams
That from breasts weary with pain
Shall one day erupt and sweep this caliphate
to a surly fate.
I
Namibia is my most beloved country,
Like it is a marvellous Beulah land
With a mighty will, great glory
So, be glorified, my free Motherland.
From red sand deserts to the shining shores
And the sun gives me its setting,
Echoes of the seagulls melodied its choruses,
Masterpiece of Paradise is mesmerizing.
II
Wisdom of the people is ancestor-given
As whose blood waters our freedom is glorified,
Their heroism is unforgotten
And the blessing of diverse culture is bespoken.
What makes me so proud today?
Being a Namibian and free is what I cherish
My love for the Motherland is displayed everyday
May the dreams of my country flourish.
(written by Ila Farrar-DiMino)
Where are citizens echoing
"Give me liberty, or give me death"?
Where is a statesman whose wisdom and courage
could cross a frozen Delaware to save an army and
a nation?
One declaring his signature boldly so a despot
was certain to see it?
Where is a statesman or woman whose integrity guides
his or her motives?
One who legislates for the National well-being, and not
for selfish personal gain?
Where is the statesman who lives and voices the spirit
of "This Hallowed Ground"?
Stands firm, placing honor before money and power?
Where is the statesman who lives by the principal "Of the
people, by the people, and for the people"?
One whose honor states "I don't agree with you, but I will
defend your right to say it!"?
God, give us statesmen!
I'll begin my dot-to-dot journey at first light
when dawn paints the sky after darkness of night.
Dots like stars on the horizon will be pearlescent hues
all interlaced with shades of pastel lavenders and blues.
From that mark my tracing would take me aloft
to view the sea whose waves are curled and coifed.
A ribbon of specks then bounces from beach to beach,
where upon sandy shores the sea's fingers flow to reach.
To granite cliff tops my next dots would climb
where I'd walk in heathered meadows for a time.
Each step a new spot where my dotted tracings align.
The next ones will lead me to an evergreen forest of pine.
On soft pine needles, several dots will outline a bed,
and four more to make a soft pillow for my weary head.
I'll laze for a while, drawing more dots from flower to flower
until I travel along on the pixeled road for hour beyond hour.
My journey will be unscripted. The dots will have no plot.
They will ramble and scramble to wherever I choose to trot.
Inside a starting gate of horses, ready to race on a dirt track.
On and on I'll draw dots and never once bothering to look back.
More dots will I need as soon as the moon appears,
for not being able to reach her fills my heart with fears.
I'll stipple many pinpoints from moonbeam to moonbeam,
then follow with more of them from stars with a silvery gleam.
From morning's pale horizon, onto midnight's crest,
I'll make my way through the day then stop for a rest
to plan an alternate route to bring me back home again.
One that takes me winding through clouds and a gentle rain.
November 15, 2022
Dot to Dot Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues