As God’s army trainees sizzling with zest
Singing “Champions for Jesus” midst loud shout
Young soldiers* of Christ march zealously blest
Triumphing over pressures, fear and doubt
In their best during August** Youth Conquest.
*Ecclesiastes 12:1 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth..."
**Our Church hosted National Baptist Youth Conference 2022 on August 2-4, 2022 with the theme, "Under Pressure" along the theme song, "Champions for Jesus."
August 9, 2022
4th place, "JUST AUGUST" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; Judged on 8/21/2022.
Chef Billy was nasty and rude
He’d swear when trainees ruined food
With a loaf of stale bread
He’d whack them on the head
His language was terribly crude
One trainee used sugar not salt
The packets had split - not his fault
He’s beaten then battered
His poor nose was shattered
Chef Billy got sacked for assault!
Originally written for Limerick Contest, then I changed my mind and posted a different one
1/4/19
F aceless is the connivance of our deadly foe
A llegiance to our Saviour is the way to go
I mmutable services of great magnitude
T rust in holy teachings shall not be misconstrued
H abitual desire brings us to our knees
I mmeasureable lifetime soul courses for trainees
S purious thoughts and emotions deter progress
A tonement for misdemeanours, less we regress
P atrick, an alcoholic, forgot how to pray
O bedience to his true faith dissolved away
W alking through Central Park to his own detriment
E mbodiment entity of evil descent
R ose up before Patrick with purposeful intent
F ascinated he approached his deadly demise
U plifting his face to see his assailant's eyes
L andscape of verdant grasses, bright bluest of skies
T emperate climate, with many birds to enthrall
H ow, why, where could he be? Perhaps, dreaming it all
I mage of Jesus formed, as he heard his name call
N umbed by anaesthetic, he vowed to live again
G lorifying his Saviour for a life regained
That's what they say to me,
Writing verse that does not conform,
Style which doesn't comply with their old dead masters,
Using formats that threaten aged literary girdles,
So long ago having lost their stretch,
Constraining brains to the point of not thinking,
Afraid to lose trainees whose minds walk in lock step,
Imaginations dying at the end of a branch that no longer grows,
Clinging to purist letters on wrinkled pages,
While mavericks like me frighten them with one simple word,
Change.
Note: And so critic friends, actually I am so dam happy my mind
is free of your ancient rules.
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
She supervisors the Salon with aplomb
Looking after her own clients with skill
Yet keeping a watchful eye on all
Trainees are dispatched to various duties
Computers crash but she handles all
Her skills as a hairdresser are renown
Yet her greatest skill is in managing her staff
With authority and yet with a lot of heart
Yes TV Guru Tabatha she would be so very proud
This lady does not need hauling over the coals
Eager to teach, to discipline, even command
Yet able to gain respect with any request
Hair swiftly swept off floor, clients seated
Clients constantly buzzing in and out as the day passes
Always a quick chat, and praising word to staff
Hiding her hidden frustration as much as she can
This is a skill she learnt through time and necessity
Coffee quickly dispatched, staff rushing back and forth
Without her enthusiasm no Awards would be ever won
This is her empire to the highest bidder she will not be sold
Yes, she is a Manager simply worth her weight in gold
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