A lot comes down..To what we value.'
Money..? Money and its power.?
I'll give here not much preamble.'
jacinta allan where lies her heart.' In
Love of money.' I'd reckon? the whole and
Not a part.' So there she is rooted..? And very
Evil.? What are the facts.? Maybe? she'll
Be put right.? When life pays her back with some (really hard smacks.!)
Oh ye of little faith, you’ve bit off more than you can chew.How can you not see what I’ve put right in front of you.
I’ve laid the path ahead, yet you refuse to see.Then when things do not work out, you go on blaming Me.
How long will you attempt to stand alone?Without Me be your side, things will continue to go wrong.
I do not doubt your strength, and I know how smart you are; but without Me by your side; you’ll miss the mark by far.
It may seem like a weakness to put your faith in Me; but I can make you stronger, if you’ll just fight on your knees.
Listen to Me son, the instructions are right there; open up The Bible, let me show you how I care.
Oh ye of little faith, see the path I’ve made for you; I’ll be right there by your side, I’ll always pull you through.
A skeletal smirk at the school door -
the greeter-teacher; 50 years later,
I feel his gimlet eyes at my back,
that leer is now plugged with dirt,
yet it can still be traced in the brown water stains
of mottled toilet walls.
A female slave-unit named ‘Miss,’
She never did speak directly to a kid,
only through the thin lips of her personal intimidator,
a third level teacher who lubricated nerve endings.
I am ‘put right’ by a serial wrongdoer
with a goose steeping gait,
his guppy mouth is a blubbery hellhole.
Next,
a second-tier maniac with a penchant for angry rhetoric,
his large hands flay like windsails as they
slap books and heads.
A last Piscean reflection,
a teach sporting a fish-head grin
as he opens a school exit door for me
while I gladly leave forever.
They would all hate to be in a poem like this
so tightly packed together
like oily sardines choking on the phlegm
of what they could have aspired to,
could have been.
Why this is my tale
Of my family tree and roots
The what and where
My Gaelic Celtic
Surname origins came
Straight out of my Liverpool home
Retracing my heritage right back to
The emerald island of Eire
Galway Bay
And the Wild Atlantic Way
Which paved the way
Where the
Ferocious O'Flaherty
Clan initially began and surname came
To Aughnanure Castle
On the shores of the Drimneen river
Where I myself have never previously been
Which I aim to put right and address
Because as they say and it's said
In order to know where you are going
You need at 1st to know
There fom whence you came
If no other reason
Apart from maybe just incase
In death you may well be returned
Indexed alphabetically under ones surname
Mine begining with the letter
" F '"
Moto and Meaning
Fortune Favors the Brave
Bright Rulers
Ferocious in both
Spirit and namesake
Now what's my perfect world?
this does make one ponder
so many things need put right
let me take you on my wander
People be respectful of each other
get back to known for smart wear
with manners being a top priority
go out of your way, show we care
In former years had good neighbours
wish that would once again return
so everyone cared for one another
no matter the cost so a good turn
But the real need of our hour
is for righteousness to reign
so that man turns to their creator
for forgiveness from sinner's pain
Never will this world be ever great
till God's kingdom on earth dwell
living out that 'sermon on the mount'
before its too late till God rings His bell
This would be my world perfectly
where peace works together with grace
showing the best could ever be
now that would be so very ace
(What would be my perfect world? So this is my answer to that question.)
We remember this
You never miss
Life is do die this lie
You barghe
Vote put right person in charge
You one with right hand
Make stand
Be that golden shower
We got the Powe
had I woken with that headache
then I would have stayed in bed
but because I felt much better
I got up for work instead.
had I got there any later
then it would have been my loss
as I would have missed arriving
at the same time as my boss.
had my boss not turned to ask me
if I'd help him out that day
I'd have missed out serving people
at a bank two miles away.
had I sat behind that counter
any later than I showed
I'd have never counted takings
from the sports hall down the road.
had that customer not mentioned
playing football on that night
my leg would not have broken
taking one year to put right.
because I went to hospital
(on that day that changed my life)
I met a nurse while on the ward
- and she became my wife!
Who went before me
Who made my life free
Who stood tall with bayonet and gun
Who stood facing the foe and won
Where are those people now
Where it mattered in their know how
Where are the scars that bind
Where do they find a place in mind
When will we again stand as one
When will truth outlive the other one
When will the brave in blue be renowned
When will we take back the solid ground
How will the world be healed
How will we salve the blood congealed
How will we sleep at night
How will it all be put right.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The greeter-teacher,
the smirkier at the door.
I feel his gimlet eyes at my back
and though it is 5o years later
and his mouth is now plugged with dirt
his leer can be traced
in the brown water stains
of mottled walls.
A female slave-unit whose name was ‘Miss’
I cannot recall her ever speaking to a child directly,
only through the thin lips of her personal intimidator
a third level teacher who spat into her ear
as if sexually lubricating her fears.
I am put right by a serial wrongdoer.
A second tier maniac with a lust for rhetoric.
His large hands flay like wind-sails, they
slap books and heads.
On, on,
through narrowing corridors and echoing rooms
counting sadists, ticking off
a long mental list of ghouls
all dead and gone
except for the abusive drills.
One dead grinning fish-head
even opens a door for me
as I leave forever.
Son, to be a man,
You need to listen to men.
You will get experience straight from the horse's mouth about manhood.
Have more dignity and rationality with women,
It will make you a commendable son and husband.
And you need to respect your elders,
It will win you acclaim, my boy!
Have a gargantuan appetite for knowledge,
That will differentiate you from grown boys.
Son, our society loves to think of people as egocentric,
But always put your family first,
For you're respected for what you put right for your family.
Let your home be a candle sconce for the community,
For true happiness lies in the happiness of the community.
I know other men's wives appear more alluring,
But son, there must be no room for adultery,
That disrespects her husband and their relationship.
Give attention to your wife, it's only the faces that are different;
Son, all normal men can be fathers,
But not all can be dads.
So be a dad to your children, let them look up to you.
Don't. Can't. Won't. Listen. Listen.
My mind is awhirl. Too much of that stuff.
Life is redundant. My friends are boring.
My parents are fussy. Absolutists.
No room for me. I try to get in my truth.
Screaming it out in looks
For I am not allowed to speak
Unless spoken to. Right?
My mind is awhirl. Wanting to break out.
Of this prison where I was put right away.
Little ladies don't get dirty.
Don't speak until spoken to.
My friends jabber about the same stuff.
Every day. A rewind conversation.
I am screaming with my eyes
And my body language.
No one cares.
As long as I
don't show
my crazy.
Quatrain #968:
GAIN
Glimpse that true gain where words now fit,
Apt joy works plain in lovely wit;
Ink not in vain fine touch put right,
Now purge odd pain in bold verse bits.
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
02 September 2019
Singapore
Regret
Sometimes in life there’s so much regret,
Things said and done, you cannot forget,
You want it put right, but you aint done it yet.
So you sit…and you worry…then worry some more,
But regret is the past and you can’t close that door.
The anger once showed, it don’t go away,
If you could change time, then you’d change that day,
But sometimes, “I’m sorry” is too late to say.
So you sit…and you worry…then worry some more,
But regret is the past and you can’t close that door.
Sometimes the fury comes from the odd word,
Something you said, or just overheard,
And you can’t put it right cos your mind is all blurred.
So you sit…and you worry…then worry some more,
But regret is the past and you can’t close that door.
Sometimes you’re hurt, cos you were not asked,
It makes you feel sad, alone and downcast,
But regret is a door, that belongs in the past.
So take all the anger, wherever it’s from,
Try to make changes, close the door, and move on.
So I found my decipher placed
on a site on cyberspace
with my name replaced
by a fake disgrace
the rhyme I’d written
where I hadn’t been submitting
now get ready for teeth gritting
yours too has seen a submission
Listen Soupers were all in the loop
cus I found poems I read on Soup
duplicated by this douchey duke
you should see this looters puke
Plagiarist profiles are mine to devour
but this could be a website conflict
their site thinks it has poetry power
been contacted still my poem sits
Ettahoustine this fraudsters name
you’ll find your write just the same
A call for arms or should I say pens
link below have a look my friends
Without a doubt undoubtedly
your own rhyme you’re about to read
a theft and crime so sad to see
copy and paste link Powerpoetry
https://www.powerpoetry.org/poet/ettahaustine/poems
(all poems have now been removed)
ONE SMALL WRITE FOR SOUP
ONE GIANT PUT RIGHT FOR SOUPKIND
POTD 18/08/2019
They are often hard to find,
With evidence of their brave deeds thin on the ground,
Yet they know how to take knocks on the chin and never give in.
They can stay staunch and never seem to flinch,
Stopping to think, they never kick up a stink,
And are never proud or loud.
They can change from bad to good,
Never spoiling for a fight,
They will stay to see things put right.
Feeling pity, as well as duty,
They give, so others may live.
Their aim to become better, not bitter.
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