351.
My Adoration to Archangel Zadkiel
Oh Archangel Zadkiel, receive my adoration!
Thou who are trumpeted as “Bringer of Joy”
Goad towards me the beings who don't annoy
Tickle me with God's violet ray of happiness
Be my cheerful clown during my hours of loneliness
With your sheathed saber, prevent me from excruciating pain
From the Temple of Purification, rescue me from untimely bane!
-03/07/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Angels Collection
Trumpeted a would be King
Wrecking protocol, doing his thing
Senate is on its knees, weak
Congress cowed out of speak
I played the flute for a rampaging elephant.
She hesitated, then flashed a forlorn tusk
and rambled on...
She trampled a greed-pocked society.
Gored its steel hook-wielding keeper.
and his forty-year reign of chained isolation.
Men with rifles arrived, experts at finalizing freedom.
It took 200 bullets, give or take, to bend her ancient knee.
She trumpeted to her kin, long ago marked for death...
Profits cut away from their gray mountain heads.
I played an Ivory flute for an angel elephant.
As she slid into the mist of a waterfall ascension.
Standing ovations and rounds of applause
The elephants trumpeted just because
T-rump pulled their puppet strings
As if he had Angel wings
They should've been protesting with guffaws
I chose not to watch the bigotted sap
Or hear the hypocrite spew words he'd yap
At the butt kissing event
My time was much better spent
Wondering how people believe his crap
A message in response to Trump's address
Elissa Slotkin spoke of the big mess*
and in ten minutes of time
She was utterly sublime
With "Checkmate" she dethroned Trump's king in chess
*Elissa Slotkin is the newly elected Democratic Senator who delivered the rebuttal to Trump's address to Congress
Does the feasting of a little cat make a tiger strong?
Does the fasting of a tiger make a plump kitten weak?
Is fasting a righteous rite? Is feasting morally wrong?
Isn't the cleanliness of the heart something one should seek?
Jesus feasted with people and fasted in quietude.
He viewed each being, with a spectacle of optimism.
Pharisees did vice versa, with a cynical attitude.
They were not philanthropic. Their tap root was dogmatism.
We fast, Johanians do too, they trumpeted. Why don't you?
Self-righteousness, like Banyan roots, had deeply tugged at them.
Jesus brought a wedding scene before their distorted view.
Do guests of the wedding fast when the groom is at his helm?
Why patch old cloaks with new ones and fill old skins with new wine?
With new canvas, paint, and brush, why don't we make new design?
And God’s Arch Angel Diametes looked at the world,
And trumpeted from on high.
There shall be Three more commandments.
And so as it is said so shall it be.
I say unto thee:
Thou shalt not eat Sugar or covet
they neighbours chocolate biscuits.
And it came to pass that this commandment was law.
There was lightening and sounds of thunder.
The Arch Angel spoke from on high once more.
I say unto thee:
Thou shalt not partake of Alcohol.
And it came to pass that the commandment was given.
And there was a hush over the world.
For men were saddened by this commandment.
The Sun went dark and the Arch Angel Diametes
spoke again from on high.
Thou shalt not eat fried food especially French fries.
And so it was ordained and so it shall be.
For those who seek the Good life shall follow
these new commandments.
And God was pleased with what was done.
"While the sufferings of the poor majority remain unknown to the world, the achievements of the rich minority are trumpeted to all" ~By Poet
The heavens grew darker with rain clouds
The day looked like a misty shroud
Soon rain pelted down, whiplashing
Lightning unleashed its lethal rapier
Brandishing the flaming steel across the skies
Thunder growled and rumbled
Like a giant stamping in rage
Causing vibrations like seismic tremors
Sending fear through every nerve
Men sought shelter in the shade of trees.
Some ran to the shelter of roofs
Sound of wind whistled and boomed
Trees arched and shook, leaves flew about
Unceasingly the sky wept in torrents for days
As the men grumbled on being shut indoors
I heard the plaintive ballad of the homeless
Victims in the hands of an unknown fate
Their sighs fated to die out in their own smoldering hearts.
They live unknown with languishing identity,
To wrestle with the dark unknown
To die unknown and to lie under the sod unknown!
April.17.2023
Writing Challenge ‘U’ Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
Lily pranced through the woods on her way to somewhere
The oaks, elms and maples whispered of her glorious mirth.
Today she has a Rubenesque friend, something new.
Something not often found in the woods, a baby elephant.
How do you know what it is? Asked a mushroom to the moss.
I once saw a photo of one when she was reading a book here.
This amazed the mushroom, who had no idea how to read.
The elephant trumpeted to say “I don’t know how either; it’s okay.”
Who speaks elephant? The mushroom asked the violets.
They tittered and glittered, but were too silly to answer.
Lily stopped smoking for a second to check on Poindexter.
“Are you coming?” Poindexter held up a note.
“And he can write!” Mushroom was shocked at this.
“I thought everyone could write,” a dead leaf said.
The woods were getting a bit crazier every day.
Mushroom felt a relief when the wind carried off the leaf.
Reclaimation
Recyclation
Drilling into
stone to
manage water
waters to be
reclaimed
stored and
reused.
Then how might
I speak such when
My existence can
be questioned in
opposition to my
Claim.
Fro. Stranger to
Less strained.
Might the freindly
way of sacred
trust trickle upon
the stranger
Uncitifed to be
Country enough
to be Human!
The bassoons stopped when
the piccalos spoke of reclaimation
and desaltifcation
To let the cymbals speak to
trumpeted muses.
Oh clear!
Might my waters
Quinch my thirsty
Palate.
When they speak me
as existed, to make
Me evil and my
exhistance vain!
Sarah of Raleigh Durieum!
Summa Thyme
I want for you to say
Cause I wanna put mi
Light shades on !
By
A. C. Terry Jr.
I
Go placidly amid the guile, ingratitude, and hate, he said
Max Ehrmann, we believe, trumpeted the peace of silence
In that famous poem, urban legend says, found in a Baltimore church
Go placidly amid chaos? Alone? I asked even as I attempted
But jinxed myself in making a mantra of I can't do so much
II
Was I not made for communion? As with the first Adam, or *****Sapien
Or even Australopithecines, and *****Erectus (Handy human, *****habilis)?
We all have had our romantic moments, heroes, Romeo, Wendolene
O how I miss the angry determination and dignity of youth
Integrity before Eternity; life's increasing lessons in humility
Jesus, Christ our Savior, was born
in a stable in Bethlehem.
A shining star led three wise men to
a babe lying in a manger
where angels trumpeted His birth.
And shepherds tending their flocks
were drawn to that same stable
by that same spectacular star.
And leaving their flocks in the fields,
they too, went to see this miraculous sight.
But, Christ was
born to save sinner's souls;
Jesus knew His destiny was
to suffer for Man's sins and die.
Peaching to the Jewish people,
He taught them how to pray
and love one another in peace.
But the Romans, along with the Pharisees,
crucified Him for this.
His Mother cried at his feet,
helpless to prevent His death.
And yet, as He died,
He called out to God, "forgive them,
for they know not what they do."
His body was placed in a tomb,
inline with Jewish practice.
And soldiers sealed it with a large stone,
placing guards to ensure it stayed shut.
But on the third day, it rolled away,
and Christ rose from the dead;
His Divinity confirmed,
as the Son of God
and the Savior of Mankind.
(Free Verse)
04/06/2022
Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Chalk up the above
tummy knocker round
motley fool whimsical caprice
forever one generic
(ewe among us) scapegoat
bullied, lambasted, ostracized...
simian still silently suffering
life threatening wounds
since no protective Jason,
nor the Golden Fleece
shielded me against
Tormentors of Torghast even after
becoming gratefully dead,
struck by lightning bolts well greased
they will still increase
only difference when nonexistence prevails,
versus while given lease
as run(t) of the mill mortal
doth finally welcoming peace
of body, mind and spirit.
Aforestated gallimaufry mishmash
hoopfully doth explain
tangentially, loosely and amazingly
one after another graceful linkedin refrain
now heeds intuitive trumpeted
clarion call moon faced
cybersurfer to wax and wane.
Roll up welcome Harris tweed
Scottish tartan mat after
lame attempt bing witty and wise
fame and fortune elude,
nevertheless logophile continuously tries
this April 6th, 2022 no surprise
quotidian series of Lemony Snicket induced
unfortunate circumstances did rise
every hour these myopic eyes
blinked cognitive depth youthfulness belies,
when dawning consciousness did arise.
Sandbagged the walls to
insulate sound
Mercy Oh humbled men
who are mercy Bound
trumpeted muses amongest
the fray
wine drunked night
a sun filled day
Extrudtions of evening past
Scoria pumice
must you ask
then as weighted we
stand tall
amongest the needs
there beyond the brink
of thought
we gather than to
do our part
oh ye men
oh nobeled souls
the spirt of night must
unfold
the skirt whores
to chore than labor
to be characters of men
who wishes there favor
Those whores who
wish to attach to you
so other men
might feel
what they have is true
Labor ye
oh Extruded souls
labor ye
thy thinkest control
Far away over meadows, fields and hills
Or through oak woodland which is ever sweet;
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
Early morning, amid the dewy chills
Where a dawn kissed grassland moistens the feet
Far away over meadows, fields and hills.
A perfumed carpet your raw sense it fills
A yellow trumpeted aspect replete
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
And by the noon, as mid-day sunlight spills,
I wander onward down a floral street
Far away over meadows, fields and hills.
By farmstead ruins and old water mills
Where sheep now dwell and brightly bleat and eat,
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
So, the land where the poet whet his skills
I walk at springtime in nature's elite.
Far away over meadows, fields and hills
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
Alan S Jeeves
Jesus, Christ our Savior, was born
in a stable in Bethlehem.
And a star led three wise men to
a babe lying in a manger.
For amongst the lowly livestock,
Jesus, Christ our Savior, was born.
And shepherds tending to their flocks
were drawn to that miracle star.
And they left their sheep in the fields,
to go and see this wondrous thing.
Jesus, Christ our Savior, was born
and angels trumpeted His birth.
And at that moment, the world changed,
nothing would ever be the same.
Through immaculate conception,
Jesus, Christ our Savior, was born.
(Quatern)
12/21/2021
Nativity New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
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