I radiate my inner glow—
like a well-polished precious jewel,
pleasing to see, with graceful height.
My handsomeness: a masterpiece of art,
driven by keenness to shed excess fat,
yet I still stand out like a star in the crowd.
My eyes radiate warmth that melts ice—
as deep and mysterious as a star-filled sky.
My smile, a gentle breeze—
a radiance that brightens all days.
Gentle as sleep, yet fierce as a lion,
depending on how you perceive my calm.
But I am a true gentleman—
like weather: mostly mild, sometimes stormy,
yet with a heart of gold,
veins of its worth hidden underground,
bringing forth joy like sunlight when unearthed.
The glory of my gentleness spreads wide—like wildfire,
yet remains near enough to be felt and tasted.
After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Sharp as a whip, with a lightning-quick mind—
bright as day, as sly as a fox,
a tower of knowledge
filled to the brim with real wisdom.
Every day, fire burns inside me near my heart of gold,
bringing forth brilliant ideas...
like a burning torch
illuminating every dark corner of ignorance.
Just be my friend and experience the wisdom I represent.
'the proof of the pudding '
NOTE: THE ABOVE IS A RECENT CHANCE ARTWORK OF MINE - a minimalistic created purely by a chance happening
Proof of the pudding for all arts—
Man being narcissist at heart,
Looks for some reflecting mirrors
That feed him with some fond feelers.
A poet too seems not apart,
His pen if plays, plays a small part.
In need of feedback from readers,
Sought with a surfeit of prayers,
For, there are more writers
It seems than are readers.
__________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |06.05.2021|
When I was a child, I heard some adults talking,
About a saying that made no sense to me,
Something about a bad order carried out well,
Being better than a good order poorly executed.
Later when I was older the same saying or similar,
Was repeated in a film I was watching,
A war movie I think,
Age however, had not enlightened me on the relevance of the saying,
To do with life as I knew it.
That was until COvid-19 came along,
And lockdown was introduced,
Along with social distancing.
Now we can only sit back and wait,
To see if the proof is in the pudding,
Or as great grandparents might say,
Proof of the pudding is in the eating,
Which may be more apt,
And less confusing for a child,
If we go easy on the sherry.
Can you even imagine the way that you’ll feel
If you wake up one morning in poverty’s bed?
There are folks that this happens to every day
And they’re suddenly on the street, coveting bread.
Many only feel safe by themselves when they sleep,
There’s just vague sense of what might be next, what to do,
But they know winter’s coming, for night carries chill,
Closest peers have all vanished now, (poor’s point of view).
I can hear you protesting, “Won’t happen to me!”
But for death’s date, your future’s as clear as night sky,
Though the stars may have answers, they’re silent as grave.
The main twist in this poem! Impoverished die!
If you’d prosper in life, have diversified friends,
Though some money might help, on your own, journey’s bleak.
Helping hand to the young is like step ladder’s rung
For the youth that endures is not blush in your cheek.
In the end, you can't know though, just who’ll stand their ground,
Maybe no guarantees, but the wise still prepared.
Best remember this, nobody gets out alive,
I think "proof of the pudding" will be that you shared!
Long Tooth
April 29, 2017
My Poems Are
Proof of the pudding my poems always are
And maybe someday shall be a rising star
Who is a great poet laureate in the making
Or was I being foolish and really faking.
Am sitting here hearing traffic humming
From where could it all possibly be coming
As they are travelling down the road
And more flowers in garden I just sewed.
I only write what may be on my mind
Words will flow and are not hard to find
Even in early morning when I awaken
After my first fresh breath I have taken.
So here I am again meeting your pleasure
By writing this poem hope you will treasure
And from sun's first rising until it does set
I am glad God and I again have both met.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
”It may not be what I want
It may end up just like the last one
Not even sure he is the one
Staying back seems my only level ground”
The struggle between desire and certainty
Is now fiercer than once conceived
Toughened by whispering experiences
Hopping out from the now disquieted heart
Shadows of the past once buried deep down
Reawakened and vividly hunting
Now you are about to cross that bridge
And avoid the river in whose depths you almost drowned
Hiding since then within your safe shell
Makes you feel secured and warm in the cold night.
Sun rays now beaming seem to catch your eyes
But you can’t but quiver at the thought of the scotching sun.
This thing has eaten up you till the plate became so empty.
Seen so happy and friendly yet no remedy.
But you can’t continue to starve for fear of poison.
You have to take that step even when you see no landing.
Then only will you experience the freedom of trust,
The joy in risks and the relief an extra hand can bring.
Don’t forget, the proof of the pudding is in the eating
It is now left for you to pick a cutlery.