Inside fortress* that offers rest
my weary soul breathes out blest sigh
lulled to slumber midst noisy pest
while to the Saviour I draw nigh
My heart welcomes music of hope
inside fortress that offers rest
as misty eyes serenely cope
with guitar strums reaching love’s crest.
Etching my mind with winning zest
Word of God prods me to fight pain
inside fortress that offers rest
smiting doubt’s cajole --- by faith’s gain.
Now, I’ll soar for triumphant flight
since revived, warmed in prayer nest
as lilacs waft courageous plight
inside fortress that offers rest.
*Psalms 18:2 The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
August 17, 2024
1st place, "Eight Words 2" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 8/27/2024
A guide suspended by the thread of time offers itself,
Where the soul clothes us in garments of flesh and beginnings.
The filigree of words breathes on the parchment of eternity, intertwines,
Speaks of sunsets as embraces of gods falling into sin,
Of celestial concerts, where the wings of dawn fade into shades of oblivion.
Of bursts of laughter woven like secret torrents from deep within the earth.
Of love, of the nebulae of the heart stretching over an infinity of realities.
But the guide to live it—routes lacking the breath of life,
Like maps to a continent of the soul, born from mist and dreams.
The brochure, like an oracle, speaks in whispers of shadows dancing on walls,
And of failures, perhaps like frosty days taking root.
Death is but a signature, a nail placed in the wall of fate.
We wander through the odyssey of words, seeking the essence, a candle to burn in the darkness of uncertainty,
A guiding star to wrest us from the march of clay puppets and breath.
And we find, finally, serene upon the scriptural horizon line:
"The realm you build is yours—beyond the gate of beginnings, time is a river without bridges."
Jealous cat is tired of the new guy getting all of the attention.
She used to be an only pet, a fact I need to mention.
Now there is this whimsical dragon, who flies through the air.
The cat is tired to death of him already, wishes he was not there.
Dragon is reading today, enjoying a story with all of his soul.
He will not put the book down until he has read it all, whole.
Jealous cat cannot read, and despises that he knows how to do it.
“I can teach you,” he tells her, “As soon as you stop having a fit.”
My past taught me to always be myself, no matter what.
Hiding just causes an inner cold.
I hid behind lies.
I hid because I was afraid of what people would say,
but I lost part of myself and felt stuck in a world I couldn't see.
Now I accept myself completely.
I love my mistakes because they make me who I am.
I never accept proposals that hide me in difficulty.
Hiding means living in darkness.
However, being yourself means living in the evening sun.
So I stand tall, head held high,
embracing my genuine self, with no cause to hide,
for I am a reflection of all that I've been through,
and my tale is a love letter to me, from me to you.
“… The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23 of the King James Bible
Life offers myriad great venture-gain
Toward the best, bright, blissful promised land
Coming from the breath-Source of goodness reign…
The Creator Who makes survival grand.
Life opens ways for jubilation days
Since God cheers toward better tomorrow
When failures come along frustration gaze
Midst detours or short cuts from trials' blow.
Life optimizes love, grace and hope’s zest
As well as wondrous mercy, faith, truth, light
Welcoming each one to enjoy all best
From the Lord, granting bountiful delight.
Life now I choose with praise and worship mirth
Grateful to God* for my existence worth.
July 15, 2022
3rd place, "It's All About Three Q's" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 7/31/2022.
Words of evening she speaks
To him
I act if I don't know
There in secret places
Is where they wish to go
Mornings were I labor most
To be neat and clean
She wholloes beneath him
To be spiteful and mean
Yeah than when separation
Is the antidote
I am all he has
It's when I mean
As much
Love of Mendini by Mukhon Strativerous
Sexy Compositions
Meatus Arrangements
Compositions and Sounds
Done by What Shuldovsai &
Mo Passion
That Ole Gal
and Her Strumpet samples of
Ladyrhift and Groovey Saturday nite
Pagen Pie Phyght courtesy of
Tasty Thot and Baritone Mendini
From Hast Kredentials.
Bounce and Boogie appears courtesy
Of One Whirl Products
Jiggling like fruit on the vine
Santa and Dasher had a quiet talk in the glen
They discussed the elf situation, and the presents so thin.
I do not have to get paid this year, Dasher admitted.
I have condos and townhouses, and my monies well fitted.
That would not be fair, Santa told his generous reindeer.
I could not accept such charity; though your intent is clear.
The other reindeer have investments and wealth plenty I bet.
We’ll donate our salaries to help you make all toys you can get.
The elves were on board, and said pay us in cookies, not money.
Mrs. Claus said “They are wanting to do this. Let’s let them, Honey.”
Santa had forgotten how wonderful the feeling of giving can be.
Finally, he said yes, giving a healthy thanks for their generosity.
My look is my headlight
to light up my paths...
My nose, my guide, when
i discover the smells of the world...
My arms, my levers
to sustain my actions...
My legs, my natural vehicle,
to traverse paths and labyrinths...
My feet, my wheels that carry me
beyond...
I sit in my original seat,
my cozy buttocks...
I realize and elaborate and write
with my internal computer...
I'm content hence thus, living in me...
Neither sad nor joyful, but without pain...
I have everything life offers me,
I'm grateful for having everything free... !
i do not fight
nor fail neither stress life..
whatever it donates me
i praise, accept
and attempt well Live... !
Your love provides me wings
I float when I walk
I sight you as a swallow
in my flying sky...
your love offers me the colors
with them I paint sky and sea
I build a impressive house
for our love to nest...
your love provides me power
that i light the universe
the poetry of your eyes
illuminate prose and verse...
Privately Peony practiced the art of purple magic
Reaching into her ruffian wand,
Lingering lovingly for a second or two
Outrageous? Sure. Ostentatious? She hoped so!
Further down in the feathery contraption
Under a peacock’s underlying ribbon of worth
Bringing a bright bubble of blue into the air
Ruffian wand wrote ridiculous on her forehead
No one had dared do that in Nam City
Kindnesses of knights would have nixed this
Coneflower her creative sister tried to explain
Antagonizing Peony in the process
Heathcote heard and had his hardy opinions
Look said Lavender, stay out of it!
Simmering softly, Heathcote wrote to Peony
Guess what? She grabbed his idea up!
No one else helped me north or south!
I appreciate your ideas, Heathcote.
Oh sure! Said Coneflower, take that ogre’s ideas.
They were enemies, she and that Neanderthal.
G-reetings
L-et
A-uthor's
C-omposition
Y-early
A-pply
N-atal
N-ote's
R-egards
A-s
N-ame
O-ffers
S-weet
A-crostic
Topic: Birthday of Glacy Ann R. Rañosa (November 13)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
J-ust
E-njoy
N-atal
N-ote's
I-mpressive
F-orm
E-xperiencing
R-apturous
S-alutation
A-s
N-ame
T-ruly
O-ffers
S-weetness
Topic: Birthday of Jennifer Santos (December 11)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
G-reeter
L-ets
E-very
N-atal
D-ay
A-pply
M-essage
A-s
E-ach
N-ame
O-ffers
V-erse
I-n
C-elebrant's
I-mportant
O-ccasion
Topic: Birthday of Glenda Mae Novicio (December 12)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
J-ovial
O-ccasion
S-imply
I-mplements
E-uphoric
R-egards
A-s
M-essage
O-ffers
S-weetness
Topic: Birthday of Josie Ramos (February 03)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
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