Love Conquers All – by L Milton Hankins
"If asked to repeat a time-honored passage
I would say it is that “Love Conquers All,”
For, whatever the situation, it is the message
If asked to repeat a time-honored passage,
I'd pass this adage in my far-advanced age:
“Love Conquers All,” sends a clarion call,
If asked to repeat a time-honored passage
I would say it is that “Love Conquers All!”"
'Love Conquers All' embodies in lyrical intonation
the ethos of L Milton Hankins,
exquisitely crafted in the difficult Triolet form,
a form in which he excelled.
The essence of the theme he championed
used to get reflected in his interactions with
and in his comments on the poems
of the fellow poets at PoetrySoup,
encouraging them with suggestions
to become poets of worth,
thus conquering the hearts of so many PS poets
by his caring and appreciative attitude.
For me, this poem embodies the message
he has been so keen to transmit
as the 'time-honored' 'clarion call'.
The spirit of the poem aptly reveals
the sentiments of many like me,
traversing the twilight zone of 'far-advanced age'.
It’s funny how we fool ourselves
How darkness hides what we don’t want to see
How easy it is to look away
To not be what we want to be
It seems, we can go on and on
Just glide along in endless reverie
If comfort is but all we seek
We will never, ever be free
But, oh when the sun shines
When the glorious sun peeks out from the clouds
And the light that pursues but only the truth
Then reaches our minds and removes all the doubts
But, oh when the sun shines
There is no looking back, no looking away
We must face what is bared by this time honored sleuth
For we can’t face the night if we can’t face the day
But OH, OH, OH, when the sun shines
It’s funny, once our eyes have widened
Allowing what there is to stand and be counted
How very much better we feel
That once unaddressed has now been surmounted
Not really a battle to welcome the sun
Accepting what life really is or is not
For we can find peace in an honest appraisal
And after all, isn’t that all that we’ve got
But OH, OH, OH, when the sun shines
There I stood where the smell of ancient oaken trees ran cleanly clear through the time honored wood only to be hung there lithely clinging unto the very breath we could not do anything but hold… as it became to be beholden to none it seemed to be tied to the polarized tenacity of the moss which thereby us clung in comical yet musical strands around the worm ridden bark a foray of bird’s voices were at play as though bells it rung from trunk to leaf to feathery beak again and again beneath the sound of our breathless breathes being trapped as deeply as time alone dared too…and so these hearts our hearts were then flung along this very same path until we two all to soon swelled with passionate wales only be quelled to surrender to the silence surrounding us…our eyes then welled upon swollen lids only to calm again peacefully longing to bathe in those deepest feelings and upon those very wishes each sound filled thought were caught then sprung free to ride the very same wish to a crescendoed volley down into our hearts to rest in and about our smiles that gloriously magical day...
there is an end
repetitive engaged
newer orders
where we come from
is where nothing returns
the service of birth
to not come home
on foreign soil
only to war
only for war was i thought of
this one will not win
this strategy of me
a world
they enjoy and toy with me you will
toil till death does its part with you
you tend to my munitions
i confer and advance
you engaged me
and again i gain ground
no fence?
know fence
no place
mine
handless land, crawling
time honored minute, non traditional
warfares itself upon the service
none shall attend
being built in a bottle
speak
Run headlong into it, your life
for this time belongs only to you..
today may be the day your hurting soul says 'let me go'
while another voice says 'please hold'.
and I hope you do..
Others may disagree,
pay no heed, they can't afford to lose
not again,
leave them for the living..
someone's out there rooting for you
that's a certainty
tho' so easy to take and stop giving.
Fate may play aces over eights on you anyway
you say let it, come what may..
believe in yourself, as I believe in you.
You gotta catch the 8:30 train to WTC One?
a lesson in a time honored vow.
Some other's sick and twisted dream won that day..
hope only peace reigns there now.
As on through timeless time …
In early life Time seems to pass
Near motionless while hearts beat fast
In search of people, places, things
That beckon all the joy they bring;
At least our thoughts convince as such
And let our dreams portend as much -
A wistful, waiting, watchful time;
In middle life Time speeds to fast
With things to do that will not last -
"Important things" that prod us on
With press of time, now here, now gone.
Since Time is neither friend nor foe
It passes by as on we go -
A hurried, harried, hustling time;
In later life Time slows its pace
Revealing a time-honored face
That sees days passing day-by-day,
A routine part of Life's great play;
But Time takes all within its stride
As we endure, as we abide -
A patient, passive, pensive time;
It's Time that fools us without shame -
It calls to us, it knows our name,
And spurs us on without regard
In timely press, now soft, now hard.
Time holds us in its timeless ways
And uses up our timebound days.
opaque simplicities
genesis forever lagoons
time honored changelings
If asked to repeat a time-honored passage
I would say it is that “Love Conquers All,”
For, whatever the situation, it is the message
If asked to repeat a time-honored passage,
I'd pass this adage in my far-advanced age:
“Love Conquers All,” sends a clarion call,
If asked to repeat a time-honored passage
I would say it is that “Love Conquers All!”
Written November 30, 2022
the blast croons in woods,
song is whistled by a brook
a time-honored tune
They were wavy heart told,
there was a silver star-shaped pot of gold
at the end of the hellstorm rainbow
This was the time-honored
private talk
to the latest crop
of pawn fodder privates
Battlefield grunts on the frontline
A pact of brothers
of diverse colors
in the Death Metal Band
Human shield runts in the chain-of-command
The General consensus was,
the grieving families would annuity understand
But the living remnant,
the broken pieces of bloodied memories
They reaped the iron-copper riches of the sword,
the carnage cursed misfortune of war
The hailed heroes were uniformly told,
there was a halo-shaped pot of gold
at the end of the cluster explosion glow
What was left unsaid:
Was how to live
with shrapnel in the soul —
Faceless collateral
on the stained coins
of valorous tears
Buried inside the chest
Tainted treasure of splattered images
Regrettably,
so beggarly numb to forget
10-15-21
his tired eyes yet sparkled with the love of his craft
a love steeped in awe and fear of its impact
the hunched shoulders hovered o'er each stroke of his pen
a quill dipped in an inkwell lined with holy men
frayed ritual fringes swaying this way and that
humming a wordless melody as a zaydie will do
midst reverie about heavenly angels he's winking at
or recalling a tender moment with his grandson of two
but of a sudden, all's darkness
zaydie's head thuds on his workbench
his lamp extinguished for aye ~
the noble craft of a mensch
June 27, 2020
The Old Scribe Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
_________________________________________________________
Notes: The Jewish 'scribe' (sofer) was and is a time-honored profession
'zaydie' is Yiddish for grandfather
a 'mensch' is Yiddish for a person of honor, integrity
No capital letters were used, in order to help convey the
innate modesty of a scribe of holy books.
How many ways can we write about love
Without words, we've already used
Could invent some new ones but most of you people
Would be lost and really confused
So we stick with same old time-honored phrases
Safe that our message gets through
Sure like to shock you with some uppity words
Invent a real new word or two
Something like, “I love you profusely”
Nah, that doesn't do it for me
How about, “love you like a kick in the face”
To some, it means, “I love thee!”
Maybe too violent for the average filly
Perhaps, “I love you like chocolate pudding”
Don't be shy, but no naughty stuff
And refrain from pussyfooting
So here's what I suggest the new word should be
Holypoopadoodlezissbamboo
“Kinda long!” I can hear you guys mumbling
So maybe just the old “I love you!”
While looking for a bridge
to cross over tonight
Connecting time honored values
to internet blight
I thought and I pondered,
as I surfed on the net
But the things that it offered
were sadly abject
Where is the laughter,
the thrill of the chase
Through forest and meadow,
with all of your mates
Gone is the connection,
looking eye into eye
Replaced with an I-pad,
and virtual lies
The children are programmed,
their bits and their bytes
With screens the new playgrounds,
their couches—their life
Where all of this leads,
I’m fearful to know
As I look for that bridge,
where our youth can still go
To return from the chaos,
to a welcoming time
Where friendships were made,
in a tree you just climbed
But the harder I search,
the dimmer it gets
Quicksand reinvented,
their minds it besets
Though cards stack against me,
I remain on my quest
The young are still worth it
—and hope never rests
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)
Strange Cat Watching Me
A cat sits on the edge of a bed
Watching me watching him
Both of us thinking
What sort of strange creature this is
That has invaded our personal space
Upending our daily routines
The cat came up to me
Staring at me
with his soulful eyes
Boring into my very soul
Looking for answers
To these dark fundamental questions
The cat smiles a mysterious smile
And purrs in contentment
Having found an answer of sorts
And indicates that we can be friends
As long as I know
That he is the boss of me
And I pet him
Acknowledging
the time honored
Ritual of human cat interaction
That dates
back to the dawn of time
When humans and cats
First became aware
Of the other
Strange creature
that shared
our planet
The Stage
We are often alone when we write.
We use ink, or blood, depending.
The color often defining the mood.
A quill, a feather a plume,
a sharp PIN indeed, to prick…the imagination.
8.5 x 11 a scary place.
On the computer it is easier, as I can change the view.
Yet it is far less personal.
A pad of paper, a single page…
A chance to perform;
speaking out for fun,
teaching skills, traditions,
gathering and protecting history,
our very way(s) of life.
Things we can share with each other,
if we dare spend the time, for it is short.
Capitalization, pronunciation, time honored commas…
Parentheses, run on sentences that never stop chasing ideas.
Colors of paper, instruments of recording,
harsh and soft, tools of the trade,
worthless without hands or more importantly
thoughts to guide them.
Speak out, speak up, speak for, speak with…
even stand up, and dare to speak against!
Use your chance to build and not tear down.
All eyes upon your words,
as they fight to represent something greater,
than “self”.
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