There once was a fellow retired,
Whose freedom his wife much admired,
She urged, “Go get social,
Plan trips—don’t be glacial!”
But he’d nap in his chair, as desired.
While we loved the wrap-man from Glad
The cover Trump’s under is Vlad
All dictators hail
No voting by mail
Urged by their communist comrade
Resting in front of me, a giants chair.
It, I know well
It, is built with despair
12 feet tall made of steel.
High back covered with stains
of immorality, dishonesty and incredible pain
Old and rusted through the years
a formidable and thunderous tone it produces
still within me
Empty now, with weak knees and an
apprehensive look I envision those
who reigned before
A mother who sells her son
A man with fists of thunder
A false counselor of god
A tremble of discomfort within my own skin
all the years I could never shake
Tho the comfort I feel as I lay bare
flakes the giants chair.
The closer knee to ground
quakes the chair to a minor resemblance
And as I open my whispers to prayer
my tone destroys all that is left of it
With prayers placed in my sling
twisted metal and steel
lay before me to rummage through
What once urged it into existence
Is made plain.
A boy, an innocent, a light, a purity
has been recovered
I hold their hands
I lead them away
There, a new chair
To Him, who sits at the right hand
Of the father
Reach for the eternal urged my brain
Beauty’s a battle; kisses, marathons
Butterflies flee their cocoons, wings wet in June
A love song’s a tease, waning with the moon…
Shouts surreal overwhelm eternity
~ staggered by uncertainty
I made a mistake was young and stupid
I had no guidance as a young adult
Found myself pregnant thanks to Cupid
felt strangely this woman was in a cult
She invited me to bible study
When I got there I felt unsure
It was in a private home
And everyone seemed overly invested
They wanted to pray over me
They locked arms making a circle
It felt weird but I couldn’t leave
Because the lady was my ride
I was in the center of the circle
They wanted to touch my belly
My feeling was that this could be bad
I started to feel strange
My inner voice told me to go
But trapped by lack of transportation
I decided to go with the flow
Trust that God would keep me safe
When I got home I called my grandmother
Explained the prayer circle and feeling trapped
She said that it sounded like a cult
Urged me to never go back
My inner voice told me
Something was wrong
But I just couldn’t leave
But God kept me all along
For the sake of my baby
Glamour dog expected poodles to ask for her autograph very much
But they raced past her, as if they did not see her at all
How had they missed her fancy scarf, her florals and such?
She gave gray hounds a look, but they were so tall
They did not see her, so she groused to her cousin Hutch
Who cares? He asked. You know you are a gorgeous doll.
He is a gentleman, and totally Dutch.
This reassurance urged glamour dog out of the mall.
knowing rested, we surrendered
bliss beats rose, magnetism thundered
profound wisdom downloads began
mind fell silent whilst heart wondered
spirit performed a body scan
rapture rose, we sang with elan
polarities merged, heart was purged
we saw the world as one large clan
consciousness in bliss mists submerged
caused us to do as by love urged
we saw God’s face in direct sight
power of kundalini surged
forged in God’s form, we too are light
He walks beside us day and night
what’s there to fear when He’s so near
assuring us we’ll be alright
They say "use your voice"
But when I did, they turned away.
They say, "just listen"
But never asked what I'd say.
They urged, "spread the word"
But never considered what they were spreading.
I’m called to meet a challenge, everyday:
my manner meek, my slow approach quite tame,
I timidly attack the threshold frame
that guards the gate and keeps the weak at bay.
My mind my sword, my enemy the fray
of a whirlwind day, vortex of shame,
I trepidate—I prove myself thus lame,
for conquest is beyond my make of clay.
But, urged along by necessity, I,
drawing on every store of strength available,
gathering my courage for this gory chore,
breathe deep down and let a tremendous sigh
from my heaving breast. “This is assailable,”
I tell myself, walking through my front door.
Hooves of horses thundered across the fields
Onward they came urged by murderous men
Huddled behind stout stone walls
Women and children in the halls
Tears were shed as in fear we waited
Not knowing what would happen
as evil came to our door
Where are you we cried in despair losing all hope
Would we eventually swing high on a rope.
Faith misplaced on invisible beings
We were few against a mighty force
Heat from their breath felt on our skin
Our men were doughty fighters all
Soon though they would eventually fall
Over run by superior numbers
Trampled in the dust by sharp hooves,
Cheering from throats of viscious men.
Those that survived broken and bloodied
Hung by their necks until they passed
Mutilated and despoiled now gone to their peace
Jeering victors tied us and carried away
To imprisonment in hanging gibbets
Facing all weathers and words of hate
This in the end was to be our fate.
Andrew P McIntyre. 07/01/2025 (c).
You may notice someone in power
Wealthy in either financial fortune
Or social freedom, or popularity
That makes you feel inferior to keen
Thereafter, you wonder the reason
Underlying all the distinction between
You and them, and effort for alteration
But for whatever reason, you fail to gain
Thereafter, you turn to loose hands
And show obedience by pretending
No jealous of others luck and setting in
And forcing yourself hypocritically
Obey and flirt them by forbidding your mind
Of being dignitaries and persistence in truths
To be in cavity alike pets and tools
Without selfness and auto dominance
The doings you act are biologically right
Aside from being morally wrong
As evolution says , the doctrines are urged:
The finner you adopted to the environment
The greater chance you win the competition
But where are the moralities then?
Come on! they are hiding in your soul
Wondering when you are going" to be"
Charitable person, otherwise, hooligan!
Then tell me, what's your confidence
As a human who is morally sound
While also biologically win?
In the agora or out on the street
Wherever public figures I did meet
In conversation I loved to engage
Only to find my questions would enrage
I chipped and chipped at their exterior
Their words hollow with no interior
My young disciples would heartily laugh
At my victims' unease and ev'ry gaffe
My deft manner of the question quizzical
Drove them to plot a bitter reprisal
My daemon urged me to expose deceit
My mission became to puncture conceit
Fake news my furious foes spread about
And brought me to court my campaign to rout
Charged with corrupting Athenian youth
In defence I spoke nothing but the truth
They turned a deaf ear and they paid no heed
So inflamed were they by this irksome deed
The verdict of guilty came as no shock
My sentence-to die by drinking hemlock
They hoped I would flee this condemnation
I chose to keep the laws of my nation
To the shame of Athens, I preferred death
Affirming my content with my last breath
In my drinking of the draught down, they saw
How much I honoured the virtue of law.
During a terrible New England squall
A young blade named Paul escaped a brawl
Ran to a public box to make a phone call
Asked his mum to pick him up outside the mall
She was out with friends, having a ball
Made up an excuse, determined to stall
He tried to guilt her, her selfish son, Paul
for his bribes and lies she did not promptly fall
his absentee father had also told tales tall
that man had unbelievable chutzpah and gall
his mom had been born psychic, inside a caul
Paul took an Uber home, the driver drove at a crawl
the car stopped dead at a wailing wall
run over it, urged Paul who was wearing a shawl
the driver would have done this for his mum, she was a doll
not for Paul, who was known for being a bully, once and for all.
The Empty Page
It sat there at my student desk
In wait of task to tend.
Write a poem, the teacher urged,
Your thoughts to paper, penned.
Intently, I perused the sheet,
Pale white and yet unmarked.
It lay there teasing my first move,
“Don’t leave me unremarked.”
This paper, college ruled and prim,
Well-bleached and full of aughts,
Stared blankly back at me to help,
With all my labored thoughts.
I searched the room for any clues
Of how I was to learn.
The clock was running faster now,
No time to wait and yearn.
I sat there squeamish and unnerved,
Too weak to brandish pen.
It was my first time close to death,
Too late for where and when.
Surely, all the class can see
My torment and refrain.
I’d rather have a spelling bee.
I’m circling ‘round the drain.
In looking back these many years,
My eyes were outward bent.
The chalkboard hung erased to black.
My mind, abridged, was spent.
But time has made its mark on me,
Halfway granting one old wish -
To find that poem in myself,
And give to Mr. Nish.
Robert Farrell Waltrip
(When got bedridden for months with a debilitating disease in 2007,
to escape from depression, I turned to poetry)
in pits of despair
I lay, finding all doors shut.
a sad impaired bird~
with broken wings wished to fly
into sky, breaking all chains.
a feat so daring
my mind urged me to just try
I started scribbling~
took off on fancy’s light wings.
found words dancing on paper.
gloom gave way to hope
rhyme and sweet rhythm came in pair
thoughts turned poetic~
they took the form of clean verse
thus, my first poem was born
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