A Wily Brush
The world has become my canvas
Everyone's paths
conjuring patterns
Vain ventures
plenty vanities
concocting colors
As unflattering wills
arouses a wily brush
This world is a notating papyrus
Each monk and mockery
fusing a lucid ink
As Pain taunts pleasure
masking our actions
with blending colors
Different worlds are formed
Birthed by ephemeral words
ushering a cascade of thoughts
flaunting baskets
of friable dreams
fashioning the pen
a flickering fiend
flattering friends and foes
a slick ink
with a cloying unction
My vacuum cleaner likes cookies
Sometimes it makes sounds like Wookies
It eats crayons too
And a lace from a tennis shoe
It hums along with this suction song
Eating up all in its path
It does a good job cleaning
But it can't do math
It caresses carpets and rugs
It invites in bugs
Cobwebs and corners
There's no hiding from this hoarder
There is nothing too tough
And my vacuum stays buff
By sucking at what it does for a living
So if you get the unction
And you see me just standing around
Plug me into the circuit
If you know how to work it
There are goldfish lying on the floor
Snippets and paper punches galore
Glitter strewn and clumps of play dough
And a foreign object....God only knows
So here's to my vacuum
And all you consume
Going from door to door
And room to room
We glide across the floor like Rogers and Astaire
We brush everybody's hair
And after you have done your best
I will put you away for another night’s rest
Hear God’s shout across the skies,
Calling your name - no more surprise.
Come Forth! He says, with a rocking voice,
Foundations stir, they know His holy voice,
Let the miraculous realm arise,
A flood of wonder before your eyes.
A new unction-oil begins to pour,
From heaven’s gate to your troubled soul.
It will replace the sigh with song,
A shout of praise where hearts belong.
Speak His Name - Jesus, Jesus,
Healing flows, it never leaves us.
Don’t wait until the war is done,
Shout now, the victory’s won!
Lift your voice, let triumph ring,
Even as saints and angels sing.
Come to the Table, take your place,
There’s full provision, boundless grace.
For all we need, so rest in Him and go,
Peace is found in Him - we’re made to glow.
So keep on worshipping, don’t cease,
Till high places fall, and hearts find peace.
To many lines now crossed!! Putin weighs carefully the
Odds..Stakes are nuclear by now to many (stupid sods!)
Pushed the row ' Heads must roll.' They will pay their own
Toll.' Gay-ne of function..and its resultant unction?
Perhaps we should enter into the more sustainable world
Functions.?
A loser from Effingham Junction
received, from the Pope, Blessed Unction.
When they ordered him, “Down!”,
“That I am,” said the clown,
“They call it Erectile Dysfunction.”
pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades
dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons
poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera
of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax
around serene scenery, orbs, and idealism
Is unction vital to adorn naked words with plumose wings?
whose views of contentment, vim, and happiness?
Inversely hamstringing people with arrows?
sighs of sorrow sound sowed soil
mothers, wailing and yelling out to unborn spirits
as our hearts crave affection
poetry provides its verisimilitude vacuum
do susurrus coruscating suborn scarlet spills?
deep within a stymie pirouette
the tortured sinews of a troubled mind are twisting
my life bill was still due till my final breath
I bequeath you my spirit as expressed in sonnets
I bequeath you my marrow, wrapped in iambic style
I bequeath you my mind, crafted with mispronunciation
sharing with those who owe me a xanthous soul
There are no cogs, springs, wheels, or gears inside of me.
I'm a flawed human whose mind and heart often disagree.
I don't have parts, interior mechanisms like those inside a clock.
but if my heart makes a decision, my mind puts up a roadblock.
There's no symbiosis between them, nor a willingness to agree.
Each day is a struggle for me, from which I cannot break free.
Mechanical parts of a washing machine sometimes need repair,
but when heart and mind are at odds, it's a hardship I must bear.
It's pugilistic sparring and I'm overwhelmed with doubt and fears
because I'm the one who always gets hurt, bringing me to tears.
I can't get through to my heart, and simply cannot make it clear
to a stubborn mind that tunes out what it doesn't want to hear.
I've pleaded and tried bartering but neither one will take heed.
I've accused them both of having an ego and an attitude of greed.
The interior machinations of my mind and heart often malfunction.
My heart seeks love, while my mind is smug with selfish unction.
I can't really remember when the last time was, they ever agreed.
They're an enigma, each one having its own beliefs and creed.
Christian child and elder both -
may we never be remiss of each
our purpose and aim in our every
moment and instant daily function -
Quite to best ensure by our foremost
effort and endeavor to fulfill such this
quest and mission within each life
encounter and junction,
Indeed to grow and thereby increase
in such this measure and manner
through life opportunity(ies) and
occasion(s) - bid and compelled by
Spirit led unction -
Surely to prevail in life's events in full
best operational process of this purpose
that at the completion of our life's
journey and course there be nary a
regret nor compunction.
Poet Evangel
My brother, one year younger
and an athlete of some note,
once found my private notebook,
seeing poetry I wrote.
Before that day I fancied that
my writing held some unction;
I worked to craft each poem so
to serve a noble function.
I'd rather hoped each one would stir
its reader's soul profoundly,
but brother claims their value lies
in helping souls sleep soundly.
written 5 Feb 2023
Sometimes ya get the unction
To systematically function
In the footsteps where giants have been
Delegation, infiltration
Ruling a sovereign nation
Where time runs the gambit, again, and again
Deliberation, legislation, intonation
Singing the melody of the Shun
We will not bow, nor give allegiance
To the entity that causes us grievance
Stiff-necked, proud ridden thugs
Treading the roman way
Banners high, waving to the sky
We will squash your rule over us like a ladybug
Land, territory, nations, world
Not a clue that He has a girl
Rising from the south
With TRUTH in her mouth
.....silencing the SHUN
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11/16/2021
Connect,connect, connect
With anything that stands erect
So no one will know, I, am reject...ed
Not fit for communication
Only a little sensation
In the region of alone
Where all the bad seeds were sown
Destruction, construction - no difference
Except the unction...for a luncheon
on the veranda
with Bill, John, or, may...be.....Amanda
I, am
fallen
Humpty Dumpty off her wall
A huge mess for one so small
No! Others shouldn't have to clean
But in my presence, they will glean
.......my truth
Ragdoll - swipe left
Move on
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11/07/2021
Note: Written for a sweet little girl with whom I work...I see her worth and it is far different than how she sees herself.
Faithful* is my GOD Who indeed loves me fervently
Restoring my soul, reviving my spirit with joy of redemption
Enabling my faith toward fruitful good works’ enriching
Cheerfully delighting my heart in His great compassion
Hoisting my commitment toward jubilation so heavenly
Illumining my vision, brightened by divine inspiration
Everyday guiding my steps along righteous endeavours
Valuing my vow to serve Him upon willing volition
Eternally sealing my future thru His unfailing endearment
Listening to my confession needing sanctified liberation.
Life and Light is my LORD, my best and perfect leader
Unto Him do I yield my all with gratitude’s sweet unction
Now and onward, my stewardship is for His nourishing
Amen to His Word my voice expresses midst praise assertion.
*2Thessalonians 3:3 But the Lord is faithful, who shall stablish you, and keep you from evil.
Dear Frenchie,
A blessed birthday to you. I love you in the Lord. Keep being a blessing by His grace. Proverbs 3:5-6.
Love, Ma’am Bhee
July 16, 2021
Uncommon things unfurl;
Unmeasured acts of love,
Unerring faith and hope,
Unveil unique unction;
Unknown mysteries and
Unswerving truths unfold
Unseen, unending life...
04/30/2021
Pleiades U Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Its signs are writ upon the seeker's heart,
yet still, the seeker cannot ken those signs
until his heart becomes exposed to light… ~Rumi
Man is oblivious to the notion of Life,
the peccant nature of his dealings.
Its signs are writ upon the seeker's heart.
A sybarite is often a slave to his habits,
leaving a huddle of vapid bonds in his wake;
yet still, the seeker cannot ken those signs.
Impervious to the unction being ephemeral
beliefs give his life some verisimilitude,
until his heart becomes exposed to light …
Where do you want to be and how soon
That you enquire of the shortest routes and fast cars
Always on your way by sun and by moon
Oblivious of whether your skies host guiding stars
The Lord only makes you tarry for readiness.
It's not a passage of time but patience in its perfect work
To purge obscure evils and with righteousness fill your emptiness
That your clean house be without space for which temptation lurks
A man and his wife sold a field.
Gave part to God claiming that they gave all
Must fear more than love be the surest unction for man to yield
Must he fall so far as a finger to write his end on the wall
Your Father in Heaven tells your hearts not to be troubled
Seize moments to do good but sprint not for sorrowful riches
For by faithfulness Job was restored and his wealth doubled
Turn away from the underhand that the world subtly preaches
K. Muitherero.
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