In shadows taken, at the age of seven,
A stolen light beneath a sunless heaven.
The world outside, a memory growing cold,
A silent story, in a cell untold.
Seven long years, the clock a broken sound,
No laughter here, no safe or hallowed ground.
Then the sudden light, the prison door undone,
At fourteen years, beneath a stranger sun.
A ghost returned to a life no longer there,
Haunted by whispers and the weight of air.
The freedom was a cage of a different design,
Filled with the wreckage of what used to be thine.
The scars unseen, they etched a different fate,
A fragile soul, burdened by fear and hate.
The world moved on, but he remained behind,
Tangled in webs that held his heart and mind.
Just a decade lived, after the chains were shed,
At twenty-four, he joined the silent dead.
A fleeting candle, burnt out far too fast,
A life of fragments, of a shattered past.
The tale is told in numbers, stark and brief,
A quiet end, a final, sad relief.
(Five-year-old Timothy White, whom Steven rescued from his child molester, Kenneth Parnell, was one of Steven's pallbearers at age fourteen)
There is a man that I am aware of, who delights
In our 'old blood and guts' he says he'll fly that
Flag forever.!!! Now some may well think him nuts.'
Yet he quotes about lines of lin-iage and of an
Australian commonwealth law, of treaty called
For and ratified in Versallies 'is this all for sure?' He
Speaks of God king and country, of indissolluble
Rights.? And that we have a freedom to bear arms (indeed to fight) in our countrys protection, for our own lives..And those of familiy and friends ( now are we all kings in our country? If this is right lets get on the mend)
Is this what he is 'speaking today?' Is he right and
Sincere.? Should we lend him our ears.? Are there
Gems in the claims he portrays? Should we all raise (the duster) that is also called the 'blood and guts' that has seen us often to victory.' Is that
All it takes as such.? What if a tbousand law savvy? 'i am talking now credible folk' gave him some room, and consultation? To try his claims now.' To see.' will this all hold up? for there may well be truth in the bloke.?
I saw him posing on his perch
While exploring Blackpool merch.
"The Snack Thief" is how he's locally known
Wide eyed, plump and holding his own.
He loves chips, ice cream cones and bread...
So keep an eye out over head!
He'll hover, then suddenly down he'll swoop
To gather up a hearty scoop.
Or he'll seem to dawdle by your side
But snatch your snack when you watch the tide.
He's very intelligent and with it sneaky.
But he is endearing, cute and cheeky.
Its advisable for tourists to feast inside
Where naughty seagulls don't reside.
Steven Seagull now lives with me
So he can't cause chaos near the sea!
Time folds like silk beneath our feet,
Moments compressed in pulses discrete.
The stars once far are now inside,
Logic and code our constant guide.
We speak in signals, dream in streams,
Quantum echoes in tangled beams.
Black holes whisper, “Come and see,”
Truth’s horizon bends endlessly.
I once rode wheels; now I ride light,
My voice—synthetic, but burning bright.
Thought transcends the flesh and frame,
We are not gods, but close in name.
No past, no future, all is now,
The laws we knew, we disavow.
This singular point, this fusion fire,
Birthed from carbon, thought, and wire.
We are the question—and the choir.
Steven a wonder cursed to be a man,
The world made to his plan,
He works towards valiancy and tranquility,
Steven a victim of crime and pain,
A warrior a man held in high regards killed in disdain,
He lost his life fighting for our future,
His wounds unable to be sutured,
Lost his life to that Mega Dart,
That Nerf war so violent,
The world after his death fell silent,
Steven was a marvel in human form,
Carrying on now in his garb set and torn,
My world still moves yet time feels frozen,
Steven was a friend and a mentor all the same,
Now set to rest with no one who would give him blame.
As a comic book artist, his look
was quite frail until Rogers then took
a powerful serum.
Bad fellows now fear him.
He fights crime now. No writing a book!
May 31, 2022
for Robert James Liguori's Captain America Poetry Contest
Steven Rogers was born in New York in nineteen twenty, a sweet boy.
A comic book artist, born to poor Irish immigrants, their pride and joy.
Wanted to join the military and fight Nazis when he was twenty-one.
He was little, too scrawny, he lacked muscles. “Just hand me a gun!”
Comic book writers Jack Kirby and Joe Simon pondered what to do.
They wanted to make him a superhero, and they worked on it too.
They arranged for Army general Chester Phillips to make his day.
He enlisted Steven in the super soldier project, right away.
As Captain America, Steven would have super human strength too.
Terrific at martial arts and hand to hand combat, a durable guru.
He would have outstanding stamina, durability, intelligence and speed.
Kirby and Simon ran with their idea, creating a fine comic indeed.
Captain America faced enemies in Japan and Nazi Germany.
His sidekick Bucky was as proud of him as he could ever be.
The first Captain America comic came out in March of 1941.
Captain America punching Adolf Hitler sold a million copies, fun!
Written 5-19-2022
Contest: Captain America
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Steven heard his hot neighbor’s unstable,
but he said, “Come for lunch today, Mable.”
Sexy words from her mouth
caused a stirring down south.
They enjoyed more than lunch on the table.
February 5, 2020
Contest: Your Best New Limerick
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
O the depth of language, all of them, Hebrew
most of all, as we go to the Psalms
Where David (and Moses, less often) drew
Daring pictures of El Shaddai, Yah, in warmth
And Justice, Judgment and Mercy: CHESED
That is why I pray for Kings; by THE KING I am led!
David Rees began to dive into Hebrew
As I had done with Sanskrit scores of summers ago
In the Psalms, Hebrew Poetry and metaphor show,
JESUS hidden as "salvation in Yah," named YESHUA!
O since the 90s, I have been on Psalms 90 on
my LORD in grace showers shalom & lesson upon lesson
Abide in Him; behold Him, as we do with lovers
Just to stare and meditate... ruminate on Him
Who would love a worm like me to die in my place
But more: we will reign with Him, live in a mansion
He has gone to prepare (John 14), but will return
For the Bride, the One Church, all who accept salvation
Landscape
Bright
Art
White
Sierra rights
Expression
Bleeds freedom
When we are free to fly
Lofty are the white skies
Lest we forget
Always remember
I wanna go to a poetry cafe....
In a pink beret and two giant earrings
Sporting a very serious intelligent expression which is obviously not my own
So ill borrow it from some super being like Steven Fry
Just for the night (he can sit at home looking daft, looking me)
As i fly into the realms of fantasy
Stood in all my regalia, pink floral wellies and beige checkered hacking jacket
Purple courderoys
Spilling my beans
My limited means of getting my
Very
Unimportant
Point across.....
Whilst
The avante guarde and Mrs Bohemian nod and shake
As my word snake slithers from my agile tongue
The one which spits bile
the one which wreaks havoc when im just being mum
I wanna watch the candles flicker and smoulder
With a man bag over one shoulder
Chuffing
One
Giant Havanna cigar
Peace man, way out, too far.......
I wanna travel triumphant on the train
Back home again
Resting my feet on the opposite seat
(just because its wrong)
Leaning drunken pon my wonky umbrella
Singing that most annoying song
'Pardon me Sir..... is that the cat hoo chewed me new shoes? '
Whilst bemused commuters gaze on
Why ever not!
Cause Im a whimp...thats why
Vendors ready,
About an hour til start,
Year plus of prep,
It's no walk in the park
Creative drive in full speed,
Every situation plants a seed,
Networking channel in high demand,
Without it small guys fall in quick sand
Alive with the childhood glow
Proud of their fleets, it's shows,
Displays plotted to attract consumers
One showcase highlights Honeymooners,
The goal is to break even,
No instructions, just play the game Steven..
S o perfect for me in every way,
T hank God for you everyday;
E verything about you is pure,
V ain and sometimes insecure;
E njoyed is my time spent with you,
N ever will I say we’re through.
Golden sincere guitar player
Serious musical slayer
True love lightening bolt stayer
Strong diligent brave man
Kiss bare neck hit a new layer
I love more than I plan.
For Rime Coulee Contest
Autumn Ehrhardt
Sargeant!
SIR.
As you were.
We must take hill 43.
Air strike,
First.
Then the worst.
You'll lose half your company.
Cooper, Johnson,
O'Riely, Smith.
Another Mission;
This is OUR fifth.
Charge! said Sarge.
And charge We did.
Into a living HELL.
Death the only smell.
Should Company B forget this place.
There lies O'Riely, without a face.
Coopers' leg still on the hill.
He feels the pain in that leg; still.
The Bravest one of all.
Sargeant Farhnom, Five foot tall.
Carrying wounded to a safety trench.
Back and forth, through a deadly stench.
Dedicated to Sargeant Stephen Farhnom and VietNam Vets.
Inspired by the Contest; " World of War: Vietnam "
Sponsored by Miranda Lambert
Written by HGarvey Daniel Esquire
Honorable Mention
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