Long Wipe the slate clean Poems
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I am reflective of the Collective,
Choosing to be more effective,
Selective of my thoughts.
Rising from being distraught,
Taught to believe I was small,
I find I'm creating it all.
Breaking down wall after wall,
I fall into my destiny,
The best of me waiting to be seen.
Getting between my patterns,
Splattering old pieces of me,
Seeping into creases secretly,
Knowing what I came to be.
Sitting in silence I wait,
In an enlightened state,
I wipe the slate clean,
Changing my fate.
Straight from the source,
Replotting the course,
Jotting words of force,
To help enforce my directive.
Spreading through the collective,
Love is the true objective,
Be protective of thoughts you choose.
Using the power like a tool,
The fuel to help you cruise,
Into many different views.
I am a reflection of you,
Choosing love to make it through,
A collection of reflections of me too.
Times were hard – that is what they said
When they told me about their early years -
before I was there, their son
Filled with the hunger of youth, the lust
For life, passion – the truth
Times were not easy – and I could tell
Life had been a journey
Through fears, tears and years
Between rocks and hard places, through
Darkness and dread, doubts
That left them with questions
And uncertainty that bled through the
Joy that longed to give them hope
Wipe the slate clean, so they might see
What love reveals when it stills
The beating of heart who is living
With a past that is so unforgiving
Times were hard – and their souls bled
From the wounds they’d acquired
Damage that couldn’t be settled
With bandages or dressings that might
Seem like the thing to do
When pain erases all the good
Times were hard – but they never let go
The blessings that comforted, the ones
That soothed and uplifted,
Blessings of love that came from believing
Despite the worries that erases hope
Despite the struggles that bring mistrust
Despite all the differences that came along
To destroy their faith, their joy, their peace
They found a way to believe in their hearts
That His love would see them through
Cleaning the slate so that they could find
The beautiful secreted
Beneath the darkest of nights
Times might have been hard, but they knew
With love, they could travel
This world with one assurance –
Light and love comes alive inside those
Who know that the struggle
Is actually a blessing in disguise
Because when He decides to erase the pain,
Hearts have so much to gain –
As He wipes away the past, there is a promise
That, with time – these will only become
Memories of hard times, memories
That assure hearts – they can survive
They have what it takes to face their hurt
And, despite the damage, venture
Into the future with assurance that,
With love – anything is possible,
And everything, surely, will be made good again
He cleans the slate every morning
When we wake to the new dawn
Lift our eyes to the fresh thoughts
Delight in the beauty of our hopes
He is love and as long as we live, we know
His love is the truth that reassures
In spite of hard times, there is so much good!
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Blank Slate
February 7, 2023
She won't need those sun hats with the ribbon tied
When people complemented, she smiled wide.
Empty those cubbyholes with elegant shoes
She won't walk with them down Fifth Avenue.
We won't need her walker any more
We can dispose of her eyedrops at the drugstore
They will take the heart pills too
And the cancer drug that let life renew
Can't reuse those cutting-edge hearing aids
All those home care bills have to be paid.
Sell the recliner that helped with her spine
Because she's passed the end of the line.
Scrap her glasses and those diapers too
All those articles she wrote, who'll read them - you?
Shred the Emblem card and her driver's ID
Who needs a mundane memory?
Don't load for her the serenade podcast that's new
Now your article editing is all up to you
The sight of the stair lift hits you in your heart
How did all this help ultimately fall apart?
Won't need the Comfort Pack with morphine
They'll come to pick it up on Friday thirteen.
No more pain for her, they say its release
They say she's with dad, and both are at peace.
I just can't wipe the slate clean
I can't dispose of a memory like I can a dream
There once was a world, and now it's gone
But an echoing sadness lingers on and on.
The purge started with honest appraisal.
A deep peer within to unlock the knots
tying 'never too open' lockets shut.
There were regrets, fall-shorts, damning selfies
all to be opened with tear drops and fears,
exposing the scars, hurts, raw open wounds.
Effective catharsis by expungement
was the only way to wipe the slate clean.
So with scalpel and scraper the rot gut
was excised by wiping bad memories
away with a total system refresh.
The unresolved was foiled with stark parries
the aching boils were lanced and puss squeezed out
Each locket expunged was burnt at the stake
so regrets and short-comings had no where
to hide, no chance to beguile the future.
I enjoyed the glow and stench of the fire.
catharsis smoke and ashes blackening
the sky, carried away by wind disgusts.
Deep in the night, in the well of my dreams
I'm here all alone, and the silence is long...
I'm engulfed by old songs and memories of
the life never lived, the words never said,
the fears that grow strong,
the things I might dread,
and the stories unread
There's a whirlwind of dust
which blows through my head
Perhaps this is slumber and I wear a new face
Shades of a fire, and the smoke of the night
Have shadowed the things that are real, maybe not
Tomorrow I'll wake, with the first breath of dawn
I'll wipe the slate clean, start all over again
Rewrite all the pages, I never began
Take a road never taken, that waving mirage
as seen through the mist, where always, it's been
I have been a young child, afraid of the dark
There's a fork in the road, I am playing new parts
Something came in the night, something sparked a new flame
Heroic and fearless, ........I will wake with the day
I will find a new trail that will show me the way
I'll not bend like the trees bowing over in wind
I'll not bend like the wheat strands, or the flames of the fire
Standing tall in the light, I will feel a new me
I will feel a new power, to be me, .... just be me!
___________________________________________
For the contest sponsored by Verlena Walker
10/26/14
If only I could go back in time,
I'd go back to my prime years,
I'd correct my wrongs,
I'd wipe the slate clean.
If only I could journey into my mind,
I'd permute my thoughts,
I'd sieve out the unwanted,
I'd cocoon my thoughts from the assailants.
If only I could see the unwritten,
I'd know how far it's fated for me to walk,
I'd know the reasons for my walk through turbulent waters,
I'd know how many steps would take me to redemption's shore.
If only I could open the door to midnight,
I'd see the monsters,
I'd give them the chase,
Illuminate midnight's space.
April 23, 2023.
If Only I Could
This or That, Vol 17 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibeh.
They had sixty thousand names to kill
Officers, journalists, blood to spill
Athletes and scholars to exterminate
Potential leaders had to meet that fate.
When the Nazis invaded Poland, they carried out that plan
Because a German colonist should be served by a laboring man
The irony was they found graves at Katyn
Of Poles killed by Russian henchmen of Stalin.
Graves of officers, owners of factories
teachers, land owners, and M.D.'s
The Russians didn't want any opposition
So over-achievers must be out of commission.
(chorus)
Don't achieve, don't surpass
Be a faceless member of the mass
Wolves will come for you one night
So why be worthwhile to bite.
Ideologues don't want you to achieve
Keep your head low, avoid the sieve.
Pol Pot's men had an agrarian dream
No literacy, wipe the slate clean
No corrupt cities, no thinking classes
One shortcut was to shoot people with glasses.
They killed a quarter of Cambodia's population
Doctors, engineers, any one with education.
Who could survive the rules of the game?
Ideologues find so many reasons to blame.
Chinese kids beat some teachers to death
humiliated, even tortured some of the rest
This was Mao's cultural revolution
If you were just a janitor, no persecution.
So don't stick out, don't be all you can
Because someone somewhere has a plan
To make an omelet eggs have to be split
Don't be the egg, it's not worth it.
Be the nobody who blends in the crowd
You may be a category that's allowed.
Today’s a day that’s supposedly filled with political rhapsody/
Yet I sit down and write these words in full spiritual apathy/
I rather be electing a leader whose ideas can capture me/
Chattel ghosts are after me so I can’t afford to be an absentee/
That’s the way it has to be. Many died for my right to choose/
Even if I don’t like the dudes, I must vote, despite the mood/
Despite my feelings that elections do little to bring changes/
Choosing sadists with king wages as their armies sing praises/
Imitation sages. Thinking their group rhetoric is visionary/
Ideas as basic as having sex in positions missionary/
Political dysentery. This system has always been infected/
Vote’s been subjective since the first slave owner’s been elected/
I’ve been neglected and I don’t have the dough to get noticed/
One of the faceless voters. A pawn used in racist quotas/
I face disorder but I’m weighed down by a chaotic tapestry/
Guilty of blasphemy as I elect the next masonic majesty/
The honest travesty is the reality that we’re all expendable/
The poor’s reprehensible as the rich’s laws are extensible/
Democrats more sensible? They all come blunt? I doubt it/
Republicans don’t like me. At least they’re up front about it/
Our wisdom’s clouded. We can’t see their both on the same team/
With the same dream/
Get as much as they can then wipe the slate clean/
This bipartisan system doesn’t allow new voices to surface/
The powers that be, when faced with new choices, get nervous/
They’re hired to serve us, but we transformed them into royalty/
Despite what we feel morally, parties demand total loyalty/
Pay raises quarterly as their conduct grows more disorderly/
Abhorring me and the very few civil laws supporting me/
I don’t mean to be apathetic about the electoral process/
Keeping tabs on the government is an acceptable obsess/
A myth like Lochness? Is Democracy just a pipe dream?/
I must vote to find out. No matter how pointless it might seem...
Form:
President Donald Trump
The voting was done,
and Donald Trump won.
So many are glad,
yet quite a few mad.
Voters have spoken...
fix what is broken,
and wipe the slate clean
though hard it may seem.
Democracy rules
to give us new tools
find creative ways
to better our days.
Oft old status quo
is no way to go.
Outsiders at times
can shape new designs
to better the plight,
and shed brighter light.
Think...Ronald Reagan...
values mistaken...
an outsider too,
despised by a few.
This Hollywood star
met President's bar
at last to become
a great number one.
Yet, Trump, right or wrong
is mocked by the throng;
no credit he wins
by those fake-news spins...
on what he's achieved,
they shape unperceived.
Okay, there are things
that agita brings,
and some just can stand
his tweets out of hand.
He is what he is...
perhaps too much fizz,
but gets the job done
and tells you he won.
Our nation at heart...
and zeal off the chart,
let's give him a break...
in backing, partake.
Unity's needed
peacefulness pleaded.
Let's give him a chance
with a cheerful stance.
November 12, 2016 (revised February 5, 2019)
For Contest, 'President Trump',
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
Bathe beneath a monochrome
light
Be that sun , rainbow or moon
light
And place yourself front and
centre preferably in the very middle
For the sole purpose of securing
Some form of hope for your foreseeable future
And reeducate your ears to listen
Switch them back onto
Mono not stereo setting
So you are then enabled to let
Old forgotten familiar sound back in
Rid yourself of anything causing
you any form of discourse or displeasure
Then wipe the slate clean and dust yourself off
In order so you can tackle your
fears and get back on that horse
as soon as is humanly possible
Before your mind eventually
tricks and scares you enough
From being able to do it so you
end up eventually
Giving up and quitting on yourself
Until you can or are no longer
able to hear the rumbling impending thunder cracks
Is able to steal the light right from
under you
And prevents you from creating
fresh new memories each and
every day
That will serve you well in the
future just incase old ones created
Eventually may fade away over time
down the line
And if nothing else or no other reason
Than to prove to your own self
That as long as you have your
health
Are still breathing alive and kicking
Try living and never put off anything
till tomorrow that you can do today
Just incase heaven forbid one
night you go to bed and fall asleep
And die before you wake