I could hear the bugle blare.
Sad news was in the air.
The King's men were oddly aloof
as if they didn't care.
The horses struggled with every hoof,
on an egg that wasn't shatterproof.
But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children
come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God
belongs to such as these.”
—Luke 18:16 NIV
WHAT’S HAPPENED TO JORDAN
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that a kid with sideways horns, pawing hoof,
saw the masses using imperfect tongues
with elbow grease, praising God with their lungs.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that letting the children come, is no goof…
that glancing behind, the aisles were well lit
with eyes and ears saint-bright; faithful, tight-knit.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof.
He pounds on the drums. He’s raising the roof.
He concurs with youth. Ears incline to him.
He married Wisdom. They’re verve is a hymn.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof -
though he stumbled, God made him shatterproof.
And as the saying goes, “God don’t make junk.”
No whiskey in hand - only Spirit-drunk.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that his progeny, raised right - not aloof.
He’s raising young men with Christian morals.
Hero, on white horse, unsung with laurels.
the bottle bounced,
said shatterproof.
kids have to do it
more than once.
mom’s countenance
shatterproof -
probably laughed
behind the scenes.
more likely created
creases, mad lines.
when our kids
don’t show up
on time -
when the watch
ticks slowly
fear growing…
anger ticking,
if relieved
by the doorknob
jiggling…
shatterproof,
no explosion,
just quiet,
sheer silence,
no glance,
no hello
when ya know
you’ve completely
screwed up
shatterproof
at remembrance,
when your kids
likewise
turn the key
recklessly
if they’ve made it
home, you sigh
with relief,
with epitome,
with resignation,
knowing they’re stepping
into the whole wide world
…have you made them
shatterproof?
tears at times
…when ticketed
…heartbroken
…pregnant
We survive
We are alive
S H A T T E R P R O OF
6/24/2023
Undeniably this fire sears and scorches
when heartbeats rapidly blazes randomly,
Living proof of shatterproof
Though forever fearing frantically.
Surviving myself the fire
Expressing sparks of embers,
Accepting and devouring whilst
Luminance remembers.
Upon cooling how it singes
For life has been immense
Uncontrolled and where divulged
all-above intense.
Simmer me with tenderness
as meekness will impart-
stability, tranquility
within impassioned heart.
Jealousy precisely at an angle.
Two cuties and one guy in a tangle.
Tumble would be their goof.
The ice not shatterproof.
One of their exes snaps with wide-angle.
11/7/2020
can I follow up
greatest words ever written,
blue skies on thin ice?
should one’s theology be
impeccable...shatterproof?
2/10/2020
Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.
2 Timothy 2:15 NIV
"You two are a match made in heaven. Or somewhere." - Richelle Mead
Madonna and child
Lucille and Desi
Bogie and Bacall
Dr. King and Coretta
Heck, even Bonnie and Clyde!
Bonds that can't be shattered with a hammer
True love, right or wrong; just as sinewy,
transcending time and death!
Date written and submitted: 09/03/2019
Writing challenge 1- September 2019 - 8 Line Form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode (Winner: 2nd Place)
Checked with PS Grammar Checker
bitter crackling of seashells,
the sand sinking beneath her feet, the tide
boiling with screaming lobsters,
nettled nightmares,
even as the calm umbrella’d shore
teases sanity.
a white dress believes all it’s told.
the groom grips a broomstick.
measures years with red and black lipstick.
holds
the neck
lightly,
but still, the chastising wring,
the storm chasing, the wind whipping,
shatterproof windows hang by their hinges,
flapping.
sour-aromatic shells on splintered floor
seen through binoculars,
wide lense of a buffoonery cartoon,
desperate tongue licks
to adhere two or three pieces.
on her knees, wooden needles stitch
back and forth zigzag,
face plant of contusions.
twilight brings stars, gathers
the haloed angels in her arms,
tosses them into the dark sky.
the wings awaken an army.
a scroll becomes their carpet
of stairs, studded
with answered prayers.
her groom with sparkling teeth,
soft rose petals pressed
in her open palm,
a diamond-eyed fool -
she loves him.
1/20/2019
Sponsor - Silent One
The cold and gloomy weather upon us
Like a shroud of humdrum bitter harshness
Gives us cause to look inward for solace
Stirring up dormant passion to harness
As approaches the day of Thanksgiving
Reserved to express heartfelt gratitude
With joy we count every single blessing
Readjust as needed our attitude
In front of heaped bounty we sit and feast
With our family under a warm roof
Safe from perilous harm from man or beast
Appreciating luck isn't shatterproof
Not taking for granted our good fortune
Thankful every day free of misfortune
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on October 22, 2018 for contest SHAKESPEAREAN SONNET sponsored by CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE & JACK HORNE - RANKED 9TH
A silo water casket scintillates glow
Green sea-weed blanket, bright red and yellow.
Pebbles and gravel, in a crystalline show.
Fizzing of bubbles the aquatic-air combo.
A vista of motion, flashes a rainbow.
A bunch of humans thrown, in the confined gizmo.
Dull green eyes, swim an ocean pseudo.
The drift of life, it's all real although.
The wriggle of fins, of the snooty goldfish.
The ripple of gills, of the elite angelfish.
The humble jellyfish, and the snail all sluggish.
The crabs and corals, the intricate gimmicks.
Each and every home marvels marine mimics.
Our penthouse aquarium of ornamental beauty
We all are sealed in our filial duty.
Unbreakable, shatterproof, cocktail glass of captivity...
Mundane activity, glows in endless sanguinity.
Then one day, motionless fish in sea..
will be flushed out, quarantined to liberty...
will swim across free ....the ocean of eternity.
Placed First in Brian Standard Jan2019 Contest
shatterproof rain falls
dowsing my calla lily
— birdsong awaits bloom
5/17/2018
Silence is golden, they say.
They don't tell you that gold is not a bubble but a shatterproof cage:
a prison sanctuary for fragile birds.
They don't tell you that gold is a burden to be carried, always:
as impenetrable from within as from the outside.
They don't tell you that gold is a glorified fun house mirror:
distorting every action to perfection.
They don't tell you that gold is a broken walkie-talkie:
a one-way filter for words.
They don't tell you that gold is a mask:
so that where there is a soul in need of consolation
there appears only intricately curved metal:
the mesmerizing, deflective, flawless, and thoroughly non-human gold
that you yourself have wrought.
Raindrops are falling in the Orange Red clay tiles roof
Announcing a heavy rainfall in the horizon
Inspiring to write a song called Love is Shatterproof
Nurturing a undiscovered talent with passion
Wind, Snow or Rain Acrostrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jan Allison
Second Place
10-23-2015
some days are too long, too draining, too sad
some days last...
frozen
something missing,
blame is all you get
stop screaming,
the outside world isn't listening.
this door is closed.
the judge himself is not man enough
to judge himself-
he worries about
unrelenting judgments
that began in the New York Hills
the eastern door when
you bit your lip as a guarantee
inner turmoil was real to you,
the wall is real to you,
and you can’t get out
this door is closed.
stay a little bit longer on the ground-
do whatever your blue collar working-class hypothesis tells you.
your roots
are shatterproof,
life on the street is harsh
harsherer than life in the joint
and every five seconds somewhere in the world, someone goes blind
and can’t find the door.
Inside fleshy walls, wallowing in youth,
lava coarses corrosive through peeled licorice
onward, fleeing the thundering stone
vacillating at the center of a man slugging
elderberry wine, to become both numb and Dionysus.
Yellow convertibles park on brown-banged boulevards
obstructing the ravishing, glacial blue hands. They stretch
unassuming, but firmly grab my empty arms.
Mannequin pale, those twin starved orphans,
offered the chance to grow into men, to feel
rushing gales of breath, trembling limbs of love!
Goodness, grace incarnate in a smile. Blue jeaned
angel, the deliverance of a self-loathing leper
naked in the shadows of his own shortcomings.
Ravaged, I stand stoic; an amorous, wounded statue
on call before her, a tragic hero in vain,
battered in body, in spirit, in moonstruck mind,
ill with the drawing force of four hoarse
scotch-swigging demons, poisonous jealousy
of a starry eyed Italian gondola captain. Who am longing I but
Nobody, wishing for a crack to melt into, or
a shatterproof heart.
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