Bridge arousing fond childhood memories
Brings back vibrant reverberating victories
Bursting thanksgiving* for God’s glories
Blest triumph against panicky miseries
Burying downfall angst, conquering territories.
*Colossians 3:17 And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.
July 16, 2024
2nd place, "Paint a Picture" Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 7/17/2024
Just witnessed a nasty incident.
So glad that it’s now over.
My hearts all a flutter as
I’m trying to recover
At the supermarket coffee machine
Standing there on my own
When a nasty accident happened.
A woman fell off of her phone.
I saw the horror in her eyes,
Saw the fast approaching fear,
During those few vital seconds
It wasn’t clamped against her ear.
For a instant it was just like
Taking part in a movie thriller:
I was looking into the eyes
Of a panicky potential killer.
Scrabbling it up quickly,
Normal position was assumed
As, giving me a haughty look,
Normal service was resumed.
Reassuring words were poured
Quickly from the other end
As contact was restored with
Her equally panicking friend.
Be afraid, be so very afraid
If, when you’re on your own,
Confronted by a user who’s lost
Contact with their mobile phone
Do not waste your vote, all say
But, who shows the right way?
All politicians are fully corrupt
The Nation may face bankrupt
If you elect kindly Mr. X
He will be weak in sex
On the other hand Mr. Y
Will make Justice die
If you make your vote invalid
Again you prove to be stupid
As someone will put your vote
This you may not even note
When cut-throat people rule
They will make you a fool
In case you are educated
Your ideas will be cremated
Luck alone will place you there
Where Justice will prevail sir
In case you are not that lucky
Country will make you panicky.
How many remember the View-Master
It took us to romantic places
Like Rome and Paris and Amsterdam
Sure put a smile on our faces
More than seventy years of 3D vacations
It still can be purchased today
But now geared mainly towards the kiddies
No more flying us guys away
With the advent of the great world wide web
View-Masters became out of date
They're like dinosaurs in this high tech world
Been pining for those times of late
For those less panicky days way back when
Been accused of reliving the past
But find so much peace and solace there
Life was an absolute total blast
Conscious of well-being status and fame
Mr. Muscle prays, “Give me steadfast frame…”
yet panicky is his mind
midst words he’s trying to find...
"Lord, forgive my over confident claim."
Anxiously waiting for good news’ delight
he's blissful with confirmation of flight
"Praise God,* poor is not my health
affirming physical wealth
freeing me against nervous lockdown blight.”
Cheerfully, he testifies of great gain
by losing much weight that causes heart strain…
“I’m joyous winner indeed
with triumphant loser’s creed
toward nutritious diet-intake reign.”
*Psalm 86:5 For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.
March 19, 2022
Hummingbird hardly heard,
airily, merrily
extraordinarily
effortless floating, near
weightless transparency,
seemingly without the
slightest of care.
Urgent persistency,
terribly panicky,
frenzied and frantic, she's
burning through energy
rapidly, hungrily;
precise machinery
executes there.
Mallard so lazily,
buoyantly floating on
glassy flat waters, he
glides on the surface, and
wanders unhurriedly,
conveying contentment,
trivial feat.
Feet like a bicycle
furious pedaling,
splendidly, swimmingly,
chasing and fishing, he's
hungrily hunting and
ready to eat.
I look into the mirror and falter,
Staring back at me is a stranger
Wallowing in pity and self rebuke.
Another victim pierced by love's hook.
Being stripped bare and exposed
Like a waste paper to be disposed.
I try to speak but shudder and wince
For what emanates doesn't myself convince
That is the voice of the person I hold.
Hollow sound like that of the men of old,
Is what splutters out sheepishly
As my reflection at me stares, foolishly.
I try to grap my teacup but withdraw
For the hands panicking remains me of a folklore,
Of which I am the Antagonist,
Begging for mercy at the feet of the sadist,
Who in his strength and might
Laughed at me with malicious delight.
With such panicky hands, the rope I knotted.
With an outstretched leg, the stool I righted
My dreams, fading.......
My vision, fading.......
Time, drifting away.....
My senses, shying away.....
If only you had loved me for a day.
If.........
© Temajung Michael T.
Buea, 03/03/2021
Jittery and panicky is her truth.
A spinster who laughs harder than mothers,
She is my father’s cousin, Auntie Ruth.
Much more dazzling than lots of others.
Some say she is peculiar and can say-sooth.
She is insane, laughs some of my brothers.
She is hilarious to me, most uncouth!
I love her better than pretty much all of the others.
Oh corona, corona
You deadly virus from China
Sweeping the world like little Hitler
Turning good, regular law abiders
Into panicky hand sanitizer stealers
Hoarders of toilet paper and pasta
You’re the top news headliner
Everyone’s like ‘corona, corona!’
You’ve invaded the White House in America
And infected the UK health minister
You’ve locked down Italy and China
And grounded flights from all over
But we’re fighting you with soap and hot water
No handshakes or hugging a neighbour
We’re sneezing in tissues to catch ya
Crowd control and hygiene are our armour
You won’t win, you microscopic monster
I’ll exit in quiet and angst-hastened steps
Over the sanded dust on that jinxing floor;
And with well-metered gait soon shoot out
Into a sea of blank faces beyond the door.
I own I must pity each unspeaking grain
Of sad earth asleep under my agile feet,
Unaware of those heavy strides of pain,
Resolute where tears and anxiety meet.
I nurse a weird thought that I’ll encounter
An intolerably inquisitive eye as I saunter
Past every low stretch of panicky ground,
Curious whereto my swift legs are bound.
It will be a hastily embarked on walk to far
Climes cast between two impossible walls:
Meanest Fate on dim life's left-handed end,
Luck posted on shinier side of such fracas.
At seven-thirty in the chilly morn’s breeze,
I’ll roam wherever Destiny’s winds please!
Have Prepared for Being Panicky
We have prepared for being panicky,
About Trump and all of his insanity;
March on,
Until gone;
Having horrible effects on humanity.
Jim Horn
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XVI
IF you pull a long limp face
Long as a mile of lies made of clay
Little the wonder no kind of praise
Can pull you out of utter dismay
Then if you pulled that long clay face
Right round the block up your driveway
Complain not how your face you deface
Your driveway's not a public pathway
Now if you pull that long haughty face
No matter how hard you worked to stay
On top of the world's profit-trade chase
Stache not losses onto the company's outlay
For if you pull that long uppity face
Walk you must the plank on Judgement Day
Blindfolded waist and wrists bound in disgrace
Ev'ry dog has its day since yes crime does pay
So if you must pull that panicky long face
No chauffered limousine to pave your way
Corporate tax cuts do political parties brace
High tit for tat makes for democratic sway
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 12, 2019
I still savor the thought of the zest that I caught
When you joined us that night after school.
Tara figured out why, since she’s so sage and sly;
She left early to show it was cool.
With her sis Tara-gon, Ginger sighed with a yawn,
“My, it’s late!” to clue in that nut-Meg.
“Would you look at the thyme!” came the reechoed chime,
With a wink from Corey-ander pal Peg.
Well, I felt like a god, though it seemed somewhat odd
That they all should jus’ curry, but hey,
When you gave me a smile as we two walked a while,
It dissolved my perplexed caraway.
In this teenagey bliss, I leaned in for a kiss,
Little knowing what I was against:
You demurred in a trice, “Though hot pepper is nice,
I insist that it’s parsley dispensed.”
With a panicky cast, I apologized fast
In my chili confusion and dread,
But I saw your eyes light, and we had a nice night
Holding hands at the cinnamon stead.
---
Credit where credit is due: I got the idea for this from Michael Wise's very original poem "A Spicy Story," posted here:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_spicy_story_1100057
I didn't DECIDE to be unsure when he holds me in his arms.
I didnt DECIDE to question it the first time he mumbled "I love you'
I didnt DECIDE to sit on my bed late at night wondering if he actually cared
I didnt DECIDE to be just a bit panicky that he wouldnt show after being 5 minutes late
I didnt DECIDE to be worried that he could stop caring at any. given. moment.
I DID decide to give him a chance because I deserved to be loved and cared for and maybe hes the one to help me through what others did to me.
I DID decide to let him kiss my hand and tell me that he'll kiss it forever.
I DID decide to smile and kiss him and tell him I loved him just as much, maybe more
I DID decide to text him my worries at 1am and answered when he called immediately
I DID forgive him for being late, he couldn't find his keys and he loves me.
I DID decide to accept that he loves me and that yes, he could leave, but even if he did, I'll be alright. And I'm even better by his side right now, so live and love in the moment.
There was no NUANCE in the illness,
Once it took hold, it spread quickly;
The ATTEST taken was clear as glass,
Once diagnosed the results were sickly.
The BARREN truth was overwhelming,
The TEMERITY she showed was unbelievable;
In truth, I was more panicky than she was,
Yet the consultant said a cure was conceivable.
The APERTURE which struck my heart was great,
She was not only my wife but a true friend;
It was painful to hear of her unexpected illness,
With this dramatic SAGA, I hoped for my end.
My PROCLIVITY was that of sustained sorrow,
By the cause of cancer to the bone-MARROW.
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