I'm going to try to write more from prompts this year. I like this one in particular. Thanks.

KICKING AND SCREAMING

Grabbing life by the lapels,
shaking to submission,
a more productive writing life,
has my new years, brand new mission.

Penning prose, I do suppose,
could be a course I'll try,
but this poetic heart is sure
his limit is the sky.

Rhyme has been my passion,
form will be my cause,
touching hearts the way I do
is sure to give me pause.

I will not go so quietly,
into this new day,
I'll take my shots, and true or not,
kicking and screaming all the way.

CHICKEN SCRATCHES

Unimaginable shape begins
within; a form that builds
momentum with each additional
thought. Building exponentially
strength through these hopes,
by means of this unfailing faith.
It is the makings of a literary
body...each word an integral
pen stroke toward all our dreams
and strivings. Invisible power
is found within groups of letters
placed with purpose. Hidden prayer
and a universal language that is built
on love, dwells within a space that is sacred.

Nice Walt, we're on the same brain waves this A.M.!

Widows and Orphans

Fear me
Fear my pen
Much mightier than your sword
I carve through your armour
With weapons you cannot combat
Words

Words
That slice and dice your ambiguity
Destroying the myths of your propaganda
Cutting to the heart
Leaving a trail of blood and
Ink

Your power
Is in control
But mine is in knowledge
I will defeat ignorance
And bigotry
I will annihilate hatred
With reason
And leave only
The tattered remains
In my
Wake

I shall conquer all the wrongs
I shall win through for good
The Devil trembles in my presence
I am right
I am truth
I am Poetry
I shall take no prisoners
And leave only
Widows and
Orphans
To add insult to my
Injury

Iain.

NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER SURRENDER

Oh mighty muse of mine,
master of my mirth,
you challenge every fiber
as I walk upon this earth.

A gift of gab in written form
is at the core of me,
and I'm not soon to give up hope,
it's in my blood, you see.

Penning prose and poetry
for more years than I'd mention,
rife with heart and molten fire,
but not too much pretension.

A time or two I've had the urge
to chuck this gift so given,
but cutting myself off at the knees
would stop me truly livin'.

I can face each battle stoically,
and let my mind roam freely,
to find solutions to problems posed
and tackle them so really

anything that's thrown my way,
I'll have a chance to ponder,
and wrap my mind 'round what I find
that sets my head to wonder.

No white flag waver can I be,
to give up: so not an option,
I'll live to rhyme another day
this credo, my adoption.

Don't beat me to submission,
please silence not my soul,
give me the right to fight this fight,
I'm taking full control.

I'll ask for no quarter given,
I expect what I work for to earn,
and I'll struggle through, the same as you,
we've all got just so much to learn.

Never give up, never surrender,
never say never again,
But give all you have, your heart's healing salve,
and get up to try it again.

ALIVE


In a last ditch effort to save himself
he dove into the white rapids
Without a paddle or a prayer
Doubting he’d survive the spraying plummet
Into what he was certain was certain death
So it amazed him when the roaring waters
Finally bit their tongues and in the silence
That comes with miraculous events
He lay panting on the rocky shore
Swearing aloud he would turn a new leaf
Marry the woman who frightened him
With threats of a marital forever
He would grin and bear it because
After all he just beat death
And God, that felt great enough
To convince him he could take on life
Destroy whoever the enemies were
Walk with his head high like a man
Who suddenly finds out he’s invincible
The prisoner nobody but nobody takes

#

The Bake-Off

She entered a famous Bake-Off Contest.
as she wanted to win a blue ribbon.
She made the best cakes in all the Midwest -
that’s what folks said about Jane McKibbon.
Jane mixed in ingredients one by one
which was just as her recipe stated.
But Martha Lee King could not be outdone
by this Janey-Come-Lately she hated.
Martha Lee managed to sneak but a peak
at Jane’s secret recipe for pear cake.
She studied amounts and also technique
since The Great Bake-Off title was at stake.
Jane guessed Martha Lee might pull such a stunt
so Jane made a switch-off to stay out in front.

The switch Jane made was in using a spice
and some quantities she substituted.
Martha Lee figured she’d simply add twice
the salt and some cognac (undiluted.)
Jane also ‘bumped up’ the oven bake time
by some twenty five degrees Fahrenheit.
Predicting her cake to be most sublime
Martha Lee just smiled at Jane faux-polite.
Then, the judging commenced by connoisseurs
who were known far and wide for their taste sense.
Jane was quite hopeful, but Martha ‘knew’ hers
would win the blue ribbon. Oh the suspense!
The story ends here, as you might have well guessed:
Cheaters can’t lick the beaters and can’t win The Best.

A RESOLUTE APPROACH FOR 2010

Remember to save your posts
At all costs
Remember to save your lines
Else they will be lost
Remember to write and
Forge on and on
Anon.

Happy 2010 to all! Happy day to all who are celebrating the Epiphany today!
As you may have guessed, I have just experienced that function of this posting process. Long ago, I took Robert's advice to save work before it was too late; however, in a hurry, to check out something at another site, I forgot to do so. The lines are lost but I will persevere....

Hannah: Thanks for the words--I so appreciate your comment about my "Epiphany" reflection following Robert's update about the 100 submissions. This past year was an epiphany for me--I wrote about it in my blog at http://pmpoetwriter.blogspot.com/2010/01/epiphany-january-6.html
if you wish to read about it. Best in 2010!

Peppermint Patty

PepPat, hope you don't mind, but you've been added to my "must see" sites on my blog. Epiphany is a wonder undertaking. We should all be so blessed. Persevere away. We have your back.

No Matter

No matter what life throws at you,
no matter what might be,
no matter if the whole world’s mad ~
You matter. That's the key.

Take no prisoners

We fence the forest in vain
Level the yard
Sculpt what is left to our image of perfection
And the deer march in

Level the yard
Yumm roses eat all the petals
And the deer march in
Cloven hoofed lawnmowers

Yumm roses eat all the petals
Roses gone the lilies, hosta, tulips and violas are devoured by
Cloven hoofed lawnmowers
Leaving grubby brown stalks

Roses gone the lilies, hosta, tulips and violas are devoured
A few scattered crab apples lay trampled
Leaving grubby brown stalks
The deer march off

A few scattered crab apples lay trampled
Leaving what is left of our image of perfection
The deer march off
We fence the forest in vain

Look Out World

I'm invincible
Brave, bold and impetuous--
Except when I'm not.

Prisoner No More

She cries at night in her
bed before she goes to
sleep; the room spins and
her stomach turns. She
makes it to the toilet
before ruining her prized
Persian rug. Is part
of her heart being purged
with the miscellany
contents of her stomach?
The comfort of her bed
lures her and she stumbles
as she makes her way back
to the dark depths of her
soul, where she covers
herself up in blankets,
hoping tomorrow will
not hold her prisoner
anymore.


laurie k.

The Battle of the Bulge

So listen closely
I’m here to divulge
I’m about to launch
Battle against the bulge

Cookies won’t escape
Chips won’t survive
Candy and cakes
Surely won’t thrive

Long live the veggies
Flax seeds and beans
Fruit and lean meat so
I’ll fit in my jeans

Out comes the rebounder,
Dumbbells , DDR
The pedometer for walking
And forget the car

The Fat Cells must release
Their stubborn attack
From belly, upper arms
And all that’s in back

I know that the fight
Will wax difficult and long
But with Dr. Phil and G.I.
How can I go wrong?

Hey everyone, first draft so it's still a little clunky, but after a rough and tumble end to the year, I figured I'd better just get back in the saddle....Hope everyone had a great winter holiday!

Cold

A seep of blue beneath
the metal window frame
slow flowing river of cold
down the wall behind
my bed where I
huddle with my son's
cold nose pressed
against my stomach
under the down
duvet like a blanket
of snow and read
poems of the Caribbean
to the crown of my son's head
so the cold
swirls around us in drafts
but cannot enter.

Prisoner

I was a prisoner.
Trapped.
With no way out.
Danger surrounded me;
One wrong move,
not observant enough,
then pain
or death.
Fear.

The prison walls
started to crumble,
one rock at a time.
Until I was free.
I vowed NEVER
to be a
prisoner
again.
A prisoner of my own mind,
my jailer – Anxiety.
I am not a prisoner.

OPENING STATEMENT

I come before you "in pro per,"
my own proper person – no Counsel’s
client. I pay no lawyer’s fee.

I spent hours searching old County
records. I dug up history almost as ancient
as the Miwoks.*

(*Who, in fact, could really own
this land?) What claims of privilege
to a one-lane gravel road that runs

from asphalt into game-trail?
Exhibit, it doesn’t even run in winter-
snow, or blow-down, wash-out,

all these vagaries which are the very
reason I moved way out here, wanting to be
free of neighbors, hassle, litigation

over right-of way, and fences.
Just listen to the land shrug, a motion
to dismiss.

Clunky it is not...Ina that is so beautiful! Glad to see you...

Connie, I'm on a like minded mission...glad I cheated before I read your poem...someone has to get the last of it out of the house! :)

Laurie, that sounds tortureous...been there, hope your okay.

Cara, too true. :)

Megan, I like "cloven hoofed lawnmowers," they ARE unstoppable!

Randi, I love that we matter and that's the key...great sentiment. :)

Patti, Your welcome and thank you for your blog spot info. :)

Salvatore...awesome visual of the rapids!

Walt..finding I'm fond of your rthymic ryhming!

Powerful words Iain, excellent!

Hope to see you @ Andy!

Robert, "They found us where the river cuts mountains...in pieces before finding the ocean," strong opening.

Michelle, touching, strong piece.

Taylor, I enjoy the visual of the land shrugging with indifference...

Ina, Welcome home. Jump right back in and we'll try to keep up with you.

Connie, You're not alone. There's been more Walt to love lately (due to health concerns) but have made a concerted attempt to trim down as well.
Enrolled in a Tai Chi class, started walking the track again (weather permitting, and taking it out on my new Wii Fit. Support always here when the going gets tough.

Michelle, congrats on your "escape". Support is here as well.

Laurie, Don't allow yourself to be held back (or down). Your words can be your buoy, a life-raft to your inner strength. Support...yada, yada!

Salvatore, very nice, my friend. "Walk with his head high like a man
Who suddenly finds out he’s invincible" There is nothing more empowering that releasing that inner prisoner.

Great work All!

Walt: Thanks for the thought! Appreciate the comment. Great to be included in your list!

Aside to All: Congrats to any hockey fans out there in the U.S.--our Junior teams playing for the World Junior Hockey Championship in Saskatchewan were so well matched. The U.S.--Canada match was perfect but the gold went south this year. Canada won the silver. Next year, teams will be playing in BUFFALO!!! (Wanted to say "shuffle off to Buffalo" but thought it might have been over-used!)

Peppermint Patty

Iain, my two "i"ed friend. Always a pleasure to be included in your number. I am drawn to your work gladly.

Hannah, my double "h-a-n" friend. Your love and joy come through in all you write. Your works are a comfort and inspiration. And your "smiles" are alway anticipated.

And my "one-eyed" friend. Wait for you to chime in. The circle is uncharacteristically left incomplete.

RJ, you are amazing. Loving all that oozes out of Jersey. Poetically speaking, of course.

Cliché

All clichés can go to hell in a handbasket.
Starting today, we’ll take no prisoners.
Instead, we’ll make them walk the plank.
We’ll throw Grandma under the bus,
and--taking the bulls by the horns--
direct their running right through
the housewares department in Macy’s.
We’ll heap the straw on camels’ backs,
discovering their tipping points,
but only after leading them through
the eyes of needles found in haystacks.
We’ll marinate our glory with
the contents of our guts,
counterbalancing pain and gain.
In this dog-eat-dog world,
we’ll eat more dogs than anybody,
and cutting short their days,
we’ll hear the cats mew anyway.

Okay, I couldn't resist. RTR.

Take No Prisoners

It’s just a football game, we argue,
until its ours. One more bowl game
in a metaphorical sinkful, we pin hopes
on kids, really. I have shoes older than
that quarterback, and when the members
of the special teams mouth “Hi, Mom!”
to the cameras from the sidelines,
I confess to getting misty-eyed.

The band’s worth at least a million two
in this economy, and I sing along,
at least to the words I know—
“Remember the Rose Bowl,”
“Rammer Jammer! Yellowhammer!”

It’s just a game between boys—
until the coin toss, then the Tide
rolls in to Pasadena, and I’m screaming,
“Break His legs!” so loud the neighbors
ring up to see if everyone’s all right.

DMITRI (The Rake's Tale)

Like a bird of prey he played the field,
eyes the color of kahlua, the illuminated dancefloor his
prince's court, circumscribed city his flickering kingdom.

His father stalked the streets of Moscow,
his mother the passageways of Paris, which led to
some Napoleonic memory stirring in his genes:
always expecting the next battle,
hell-bent on conquest without a thought for
who lay in his path. He scorched his earth,
dragging his luminous body through the mud,
discarded lovers in his wake.
He had his father's hands, but his mother's mouth.

When they sprawled out on the well-worn sheets
his lovers could look up at the patterned
mahogany bedposts, wonder if
those lacquered grooves are coincidental decoration,
or if he scratched them there, a record of his
silk-sweat skirmishes with stories of their own.

He defied the attachment of strings.
How many must have begged him, don't let me go,
incarcerate me somewhere in your heart's
dry chambers, between your long steepled fingers,
tie me to the bedpost just so you can't
scratch in any more encounters, let me be your
last defeat, and how many times must he have
buttoned up his perfectly pressed shirt,
added one to some casanova figure in his head
before showing them the door. This place is
no jail for lovelorn prey.

Like a snake he sheds his skin impassively.
Lonely, he walks the frost-edged streets,
waiting for something to rise beneath the lamps.

And Every Little Birdie Goes, Ka-ching, ching, ching

You would not do that they said, my darling family, daring me it seemed
Join yet another social network, sillier, even more time consuming, you?
Yes indeed, they were mocking me, make no mistake, but still, on I dreamed
Other folks were nudging me, whispering.cajoling, saying,
come on, you can too
Then serendipitously net-surfing as I do, I happened on a forum
where I learned
There were reasons I should maybe take a closer look at this phenomenon;
I went on-site, grew engrossed and in moments saw there was money
to be earned
And even better, cash for work already written just a-waiting reading
by someone

Well one someone grew to two someones, and two grew to ten,
and then ten more
This Luddite, a peaceful technophobe was suddenly growing
computerish savvy
With uncommon dedication I plotted strategy as if preparing for
an unholy war
Marshalled many of these multiplying networks, wanting to master
all of them badly
I won’t pretend to know exactly, or even vaguely, just how
the system works or why
And it doesn’t really matter to me; all I know is that since I started not so very subtly
Headlining-linking my articles, poems, debates - on a place
in the great cyber buy and buy
My piggy-bank has steadily grown as I get twittered, tweeted and retwitted, abruptly

So put up your writing dukes all, bring out your best stuff, c’mon let’s go head to head
Writing for the love of it is grand but for pennies it's like playing poker, and so much fun
Then checking your stats on Hootsuite –hey, don’t laugh or I swear
I’ll cut you dead
Besides, what’s the harm if you can do both things at once? Seems, already you’ve won.

Take No Prisoners

She is back in Brooklyn.
Christmas is back in the basement.
My heart searches for both;
bemused by this displacement.
She, wrapped in loneliness;
Christmas boxed away;
Emptiness completes the scene;
Elation fades to gray.

Its not often that I get topical or political but I cry every time I see on the news that another young man has lost his life in a pointless war, thus....



…and yet another boy dies

There is a town where far too often
They stand and bow
Flags are raised and lowered
In honour
In honour of the dead
The fallen
The Valiant

Some wish to march in anger
To state their cause
But yet they live with democracy
Freedom
The right to choose
The right to march

But Nay! Nay say the many
Another boy has died
All in vain
Another mother’s heart is broken
Forever
And we say Nay!

It is a fine thing to have all the freedoms
That we can offer
When your land has them not
Do not spit upon them
So recklessly
So spitefully
Do not disrespect our brave boys

The Colonel in chief
Of the Royal Anglian Regiment
Is weeping
Writing yet another letter
Of condolence
Fighting back the tears
Fighting back the anger

We do take prisoners
The law of war requires it of us
But there is not an Anglian
Nor a Para
Nor a sapper of the REME
Who would not give back his badge
If the law was changed

We fight with honour
With honesty
And with respect
And quite frankly
With good old fashioned British
Decency

If your faith requires otherwise of you
Then you shall have our respect
But do not expect
Our forgiveness
When your sons brought to manhood in our land
Deny that manhood
To our sons

We do take prisoners
But God help us all
Every man jack
Of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces
Should they that have power consider
A repeal of the Geneva Convention
Then there is a place round the back of the canteen
Where awaits few good men
Paras and Anglians
Men of the Duke of York’s finest
Who will load and fire

We do take prisoners
We do offer freedom
We do live in a democracy
And by Christ I deem
There are many today
Should count their stars
That that is our way

It’s not about race
It’s not about religion
It’s about being human
And when your soul is shrouded
In the darkness of hatred
Then may your God bless you
And remind you
That the Paras
And the Royal Anglians
Do take prisoners
And that your sons
Who stand against them
Yet live
While our brave boys die
Day upon day
In a distant land
Far from home and hearth

Forgotten by some
Perhaps even by God
But remembered everyday by us
Their kin
Their country-folk
Who whisper in the crowd
God save our boys
God save the Queen


Iain

Walt, I'm humbled...pleased to be a comfort and you are equally an inspiration to me. :)

Marie Elena, such <3 and emotion, portrayed beautifully.

Nancy, Joseph and Sharon...much enjoyed. :)

and Iain...wow, powerful.

Okay...so the hearts code thing doesn't work here...I get it now!

Thank you Hannah and Walt. :-)

RESONANCE

Echo upon echo
reverberates
across the still
body of water;
confronting me.
Words projected
effortlessly return,
clear and unchanged.
Finally accepting the
nature of it all...
Each sob inundates
me with an equal
emotion portrayed.
Yet I'm comforted
to know that although
I'm alone...I'm not.
I see with unclouded
eyes...the energy I
release will be the
energy I receive.
I hear in the distance...
whisper of heartened hope.

Take No Prisoners

Given a choice,
I would rather
eat dirt, than
be someone’s
AA, at mercy
of their beck
and call, in some
hallway corner,
of an office.
Time to write
and fight the fight
of an unknown
poet without
malice toward
rejection letter
senders, while
bearing in mind,
that if we could
not survive on fixed
income, I would
be glad to say,
paper or plastic?

Aaaahhh ... hot tea and poetry. Will return with comments.

You too? Earl Grey and I are perusing the perfectly pondered poetry. Across the lake, eerily.

Earl Grey? No way ... me too! My second favorite. Lady Grey became my new favorite just a few months ago.


Iain: Bravo! Love the wording and flow of your first; the power and passion of your second.
Salvatore: Excellent.
RJ: As usual, love your style!
Peppermint Patty: Will check out your blog. :)
Megan: Thoroughly enjoyed your poem. Unfortunately, too true.
Cara Holman: :)
LaurieK: Heart wrenching. Bless you.
Well done, Connie. Best wishes!
Ina: Love the sentiment and voice of your piece.
Michelle H: May the strength exhibited in your piece inhabit your being.
Taylor: Well done.
Nancy: Thoroughly enjoyed both of yours!
Joseph: Few can match your passion.
Sharon: Tell me more!
Sara: Big amen.
Walt and Hannah, did you two collaborate on your first two pieces? :) My two “favorites” are in full force today. Great work, both of you. Every piece … just great work!

Oh ... Andy, I hope you decide to join us in writing and posting. :)

HAIL THE HEAVENS

Social chatter circles around,
Until the talking settles down.

Sharing tales of what we think and feel,
Acting as if all that’s real.

Instead let’s rally the troops,
Gathering more consciousness groups!

To lift up our collective reason,
To realize we, too, resemble each season.

In winter we pull in to reflect on what feels empty,
It can feel cold, lacking in color and lonely.

Come spring we humans spring anew,
We feel open and loving in all we do.

In summer, we frolic and enjoy the hot sun.
We are full of color and define the word “fun”!

Once in the fall, we begin to let go,
Preparing for that winter snow.

We are the earth in our physical bodies,
Whether we are just normal or a Hollywood Hottie.

Our water is our emotional side,
Where with too much current we’d rather hide!

The inner fire in us is spirit!
Feel all that joy and you will hear it.

The air is like our intellect,
Where with that faculty, we do select,

Of course, it can make us “arrogant”,
Or full of hot air with a grunt!

Yet it can send us sky high!
With inspiration we can fly!

So, instead of staying in one patterned consciousness,
Release yourself from this mess!
Grab these moments to just say, “YES”!

Rally yourself,
Off the shelf,

Let those thoughts fly into heaven’s clouds,
Clear them all from the maddening crowds.

Lift up your energy to all that’s GOOD!
Open your heart like you know you could!
No more doubting that you should!

No more depression,
Release the suppression,

Say no to repression,
Refuse oppression!

Bring in your Highest and Most Truthful
Expression!

Let go with a scream . . .
Let’s us all know what you mean!

Don’t sit back and just take it all in!
No! Start over again and begin!

Begin to have a joyful IN THE MOMENT LIFE!!
Strive for it and end the strife!

Don’t take your own “no” for an answer!
Become your own free spirit dancer!

Make it a synergy with the masses,
So it kicks donkeys right off their asses!

Become your highest, highest self with each breath!
Be the Light of your self, push out the concept of death!

Wholly become all that you are,
It is not a cliché, glow into a star!

Reach for the Highest, brightest thing you know,
Hail the Heavens . . .

And we'll all grow!

SPIRIT HIKE

Come fly with me, Sweet Hummingbird.
There is a breeze,
You haven’t heard.

Come play with me, Curious Coyote.
There is a guitar,
Listen quietly, it is far!

Come dance with me, Charming Monkey.
There is a tree,
Vibrating the light of harmony.

Come cry with me, Croaking Frog.
There is a pond,
When you are sad, it will respond.

Come sing with me, Hooting Owl.
There is a branch,
Swaying gently for you above my ranch.

Come pray with me, Soft Purring Cat.
There is gratitude for your nap,
A soft pushy place on my lap.

Come sit in stillness with me, Sly Fox.
There is a hideout,
Even for your bushy tail no doubt.

Come ponder life with me, Kind Squirrel.
There is a hole,
But it might be the home of a mole.

Come trust with me, Dear Dog.
There is a porch,
For our light we’ll use a torch.

Come question life with me, Cautious Skunk.
There is a hesitation or a pause.
I will be careful, too, well . . . because!

Come beg with me, Precious Mouse.
There is some cheese,
I want you to come, please?

Come ride with me, Wonderful Horse.
There is saddle and rein,
Come, I promise you no pain.

Come hum with me, Beautiful Butterfly.
There is a sweet smelling flower,
We’ll sit by it now and by the hour.

Come swim with me, Colorful Fishes.
There is a pool,
Water is gentle and oh, so cool.

All of you come on my spirit hike!
You will find something that you like.
We will fly as fast as the wind blows,
To places of magic no one knows.

You are welcomed to bring anything,
That makes you laugh and your heart sing.
We will make silent noise,

Like the gentle beat of a fairy wing.

2010 (C) Rich Atwater January 7, 2010

It's here, my dear, "the Decade of decades", the beginning of the end,
We shall take no prisoners on to glory, each must qualify, and then-
Be assigned to that which be his (or hers) due, according to the law, divine,
For God is just and we must meet "the day of judgment" in due time.

In centuries past the prophets told of "the Dispensation of the Fullness of Times",
When all things shall be fulfilled for mortal earth to meet Millennial Day, sublime,
As JESUS CHRIST returns as KING to claim His own just due of everything,
And set aside the woes of "wrong", cast out the Devil and his throng, to fling-

Across the universe the evil one, and all his hosts, that PEACE may come to EARTH,
That all good men, and women too, who seek to do His will may justify their mirth,
In mercy, hope, and faitfulness, with compassionate "true love" for fellowmen again,
No malice or deceit to stand, no war, no hatredness defile the land, as such too long has been.

No bigotry, no false end hope, nor prophets of doom to instill fear, mistrust, and depression,
For God is LOVE and seeks to bring "the lion with the lamb" with humble heart's obsession,
To be like a little child, submissive unto God and righteousness in truth, sons and daughters unto HIM,
Oh, come Millennial Day, come "the Prince of Peace", come rescue us from ourselves, our chagrin!

But first must come the prophecies of JESUS told of old, upon the Mount of Olives, in Matthew 24,
Upheavals of the planet earth, as earthquakes, and volcanoes roar, with tsunamis (etc) to justify "the poor",
The opressed shall stand justified in that day whose hearts are truly "just and meek" to inherit the earth again,
So look and watch, and see and know, that the prophecies were true, and now shall begin this year of 2010.

A time of woe, of circumstance, of true "refiner's fire"-- to see whose character will pass "the test of time",
For time will end and be no more, as eternity begins, and God of heaven claims His own, to eliminate the crime,
That leads to Mayan calendar of December 21, 2012--but NOT "the end"; but rather "the beginning of the end",
"The Decade of the Teenies", as in adolescence of youth portends, maturation, upheavals of distress, to bend--

The spirit and the soul unto God, or rend it unto doom, the choice is ours to make from within--"the mind",
And heart, to be, or not to be, what God ordains for all mankind, for happiness, immortality-- the eternal kind,
Of life abundant with true joy that meets the Saviors call: "Come unto me, ye that labor, and I will give you rest",
From woes of life on mortal earth that drag us down to misery from without and within, to save YOUR soul, lest--

The evil one take false glory in the chains that bind YOU unto him, be free--my fellowmen, be free from wickedness,
Be free from sin, be free from "false end hope", and turn to JESUS CHRIST who renders us the hope of righteousness,
"For this is my work, and my glory: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of righteous men of any clime",
To live on earth's Millennium a thousand years in peace for those who meet the "good and honorable" call sublime.

But now, to "time of earth" we render unto Him our stewardship of what we do to qualify for "Olive Branch of Peace",
To test our metal in the fire, or like "the fuller's soap" refine the dross, and survive the cataclysmic force that's due--
To come upon the planet in this time of woe and circumstance--"The Decade of decades" begins with 2010,
And YOU my friend shall see the prophecies all fulfilled from Book of Daniel, to REVELATION of John about "the end"!

"The seven year countdown", called "the teenies" (2013 to 2019) of "adolescent time" shall lead to much distress within,
Of growing pains, of troubled hearts, of life and massive death upon a scale not known before to purge the earth from sin,
Of Wormwood (poison water), disease of every kind; a comet hits the earth to remove tall masted ships upon the seven seas,
And God in wrath upon His throne shall shoot the lightning bolts towards every man of sin, to bring him down upon his knees.

As the wicked destroy the wicked in cataclysmic war across each land, and kingdoms fall to ashes on the earth, as days of old,
No man shall stand justified without aproval of the Lord of Hosts, who comes in robes of crimson red upon a pure white horse,
In prophecy, as "King of kings" across his thigh to see, that JESUS CHRIST is "God of Earth"--His planet, His creation,
"The end of world" does NOT mean "End of Earth", for wordly things of Satan (prince of "the world") gives way in every nation--

To "Prince of Peace", and God of EARTH, he'll not destroy the planet that He loves, but come to save it from ourselves,
To cut "the time of end" but short, to save from destruction all of flesh, unless He did not come, to place upon the shelves,
The bones of all mankind, across a weary land of desolations call; to bring about "the RESURRECTION" of the good and right,
That they shall stand upon the earth as Prophet Job has told, "in latter-days", approved to serve our God in Millennial might.

Thus, "the Teenies Decade" (2013 to 2019) a day of reckoning it shall be for all of mortal kind, to lead to austere 2020--
Wherein "the hindsight eyes of man" shall focus on the TRUTH, and see more clearly what has been must be for mortal men,
That God shall purge the entire earth, and rule as "King of kings", to usher in "The Millennium" with "2020 eyesight" given,
For 2033 was designated time to close the chapters of this earth, 2,000 years since crucified our Lord in 33 A.D., the Jew:

He comes again to claim His own, to save His ethnic people, that they may see His wounded hands and feet, and KNOW,
They crucified their God, but NOW may humbly seek His help, repentance is "the key"--for all Jerusalem to see and grow,
"The time" cut short by some "few years" for dire need to save all flesh from utter destruction, thus 2033 becomes anew,
Some time for "Second Coming" between 2020 to that fatal day for evil men, but righteousness need not fear the crew--

Or "hosts of angels" who will accompany Him to usher in that "Peace on Earth, good will toward men" that poets sought,
And man proclaimed in writings of his books as "muse" upon Utopia, that no political stance can claim to give, nor bought
By diplomatic persuasion, or any means, but by "the Lord of Hosts" in His own due time to fulfill the words of His prophets,
That "the Kingdom of God on the Earth", shall meet "the Kingdom of God in Heaven" to come, as Zion is ushered in the soffits.

So, 2010, I welcome you with open arms, I seek your just rewards for those who wait upon the Lord in righteousness so true,
This "Decade of decades" I wish to see, and be among the ones who stand on solid soil and ground of Gospel Truth, for you
Have been my hearts desire, "to see the Lord", who comes in glory upon the Earth to claim His own and set at peace, Earth
Some day to be Celestial orb, among the thrones of God in center place of Galaxy among the brightest stars of former birth.
=========================================================================
Poet's Note:
All of the prophecies of the Bible, and more are recorded in my book: The STONE Cut Out of the Mountain Without Hands
available at: www.3swanspublishers.com
plus my book : The Book of REVELATION Simplified and Explained Chapter by Chapter
and my book : JESUS of Nazareth: Savior and King: The Yahweh Code Deciphered

Warriors of Conscience: An Address to the People of Frost
By: Meena Rose

Band with me, People.
Together we rise.

Band with me, People.
Together we act.

Band with me, People.
To you this I address.

There has been great injustice in the land;
Morality is being dismissed out of hand;
Hear me now, this I demand.

There once was a time when common law made sense;
There once was a time when government was not a pretense.

There once was a time when people were aware;
That knowledge is gone now and no one seems to care.

Broad sweeping measures are bandied about;
Signs of lobbyists are evident through out.

Band with me, People.
Together we rise.

Band with me, People.
Together we act.

Band with me, People.
To you this I address.

Wake up! Rise up!

Time for a shake up!

Stand up for your rights;
Stand up for your freedoms.

Stand down from your apathy;
Stand down from your indifference.

Band with me, People.
Together we rise.

Band with me, People.
Together we act.

Band with me, People.
To you this I address.

Today we must right the course
Of this errant ship.

Tomorrow, we march;
Unstoppable; Unflappable.

Go home to your families now;
Explain to them the sacrifice somehow.

We will be given no quarter;
We will perish if we fail;
Yet, press on we must,
To rid the government of its corrupt crust.

=====================
Poet's Note: You can blame this one on the wind bashing against me window all night and me getting little sleep. I was reading Heinlein's The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress before going to be bed. I think I dreamt about the rallying going on there... who knows...

enjoyed the morning read:

Connie: I too cheated too bad I did not read your poem before my large breakfast oh well next week - maybe

Nancy love cliche

Marie, you warm my spirit...thank you!

Janet...your first one is so uplifting, the epitome of a gentle kick in the butt! I can see "Spirit Hike," in full illustrated form, I love it!

Richard, valuable message...

Meena Rose, "today we must right the course of this errant ship," I love this line...nice!

You too Megan? I was supposed to eat cucumber and apple for breakfast to get back on my old habits...I had banana bread...

Have a great day all...BIG smiles!!

On the walls of our sand
castle tiny hand prints,
yours, mine, yours
They say I will forget you
now your hand is cold
your prints are fading
so I come here to hold
the shell you told your
secrets to. I raise it
to my ear but the whisper
is drowned by a ferocious
roar, the fury of tide
coming in.

Stopping in sand
a policeman hand
up palm flat
between the water
and the castle
and I still see your
fingers there on
the fourth tower.
Against the wave, the
water, the wall, the crest
splashes over and then
through me and scatters
my heart into pieces
of glass and
erases it all.

As always, excellence from Mr. Atwater, Janet, and Meena.

Giulietta, your is EXCEPTIONAL this morning. Wow.

Will be back to read & comment later, but determined to get back to writing (now that the chapbook's finally turned in), so here's mine for this prompt:


Young, she ran away from home
leaving behind an angry sire
never knew ‘til far too late
she’d married someone much the same

Charm and sweetness she perceived
his careful lies so well rehearsed
he kept the beast stowed deep within
concealed, until he had her snared

Fists and boots, he staked his claim
isolating all he owned
took everything she offered, but
a gift he gave her in return

Through bruises, then, and blackened eyes
protector of the innocent
with taunting words she persevered
no matter what, she’d never break

Hoarding pennies, biding time
sole target for his every rage
until the day they disappeared
and left him broken and alone

How fast can you change your mind?
Can you pull off ideas
quick as bloody socks? You’ll find
on the chair a change of clothes:
trade your uniform for mine.

Before you come, wash your hands.
In the situation room,
you will address the captains.
No one knows the face of doom
like you. Please share your insights.

Outside the window, the noose.
Beyond the city, who knows?
Maybe a place where heroes
tend to their daily furrows,
their ration of tomorrows…

Any which way the wind blows:
there do you follow your nose.


DA

I WILL SURVIVE!

I’ve been through it all,
and I haven’t stopped yet.

Although many have tried to stop me,
by standing in my way, by placing obstacles before me,
by hurting me –
physically,
emotionally,
or verbally,
I have still come out on top
at the end of it.

Today,
and all the days ahead of me,
are merely tomorrow’s yesterdays,
and I will trudge through the hard days,
and rejoice through the easy ones,
never letting either one
overtake me.

I’ve been through it all,
and I will survive!

THE NIGHT THE MOON STOOD STILL

As the full moon rose,
And came to Her great height.
What happened no one knows,
True power became Her Light.

Women from all over the globe,
Were called upon the shores,
To stand in full circle, their strength to probe.
A power their politeness usually ignores.

Young women were drawn to lakes,
To feel their inner heart.
Instantly they knew what it takes,
They have known it from the start.

Girls were guided to nearby ponds,
To be still by the water,
The moon showed how she lovingly responds,
To each caring daughter!

Wise women were lead by the ocean,
To calmly quiet the seas,
To set carefully in motion,
True feminine peace.

Mothers of all ages,
Were shown the way to streams,
No matter what their stages,
They were the keeper of dreams.

Grandmothers went to stand by fountains,
As they gazed within for truth,
Remembering when they tried moving mountains,
When they were young warriors in their youth.

As they all stood still with the moon,
She pulsated through Her Pure white orb,
The time had not come too soon,
Because the women were open they could absorb.

She reminded them of their cycles,
How for them, they ebb and flow.
Whether it is through heat or icicles,
Their truth is a wisdom they can know.

She taught them of their knowledge,
That they reflect the Light.
That as they stood on that silvery bridge,
They were all empowered on that night.

Their collective heart was opened wide,
So they could feel Her true intention.
The power of the pulling tide,
Was their real link with Her connection.

Each female lifted up her eyes,
And took in the moon’s great shine.
As they all became realized,
It was indeed their time.

They didn’t need to “take any prisoners”,
There was no need to fight.
They had received the true awareness of the “his or hers”.
That life is just ONE LIGHT.

It is not about division,
It is not about who is who.
We just need an empowering collective vision,
Seeing life through the heart will do.

All the gathered females,
Took in what they had learned,
They knew how to balance with the males,
With the knowledge they had earned.

The sun may guide men out into the light of day,
To shine their brightest strength in the world,
Yet women have always had their say,
From their collective heart unfurled.

The power of their intuitive side,
Should never be underestimated.
What they know should not just hide.
It should be lovingly peacefully stated.

On that night the moon stood still for them.
Sacrificing Her usual track.
Sparkling Her Heart like a pure diamond gem,
Guiding them all forward not back!

As morning came before the sunrise,
She shined as bright as She could be,
She put inside them all things wise.
Because she trusted they would be.

They slowly turned and went back home.
Holding all the teachings tenderly in their heart center.
After feeling the moon surround them in Her safety dome,
As a wise and loving mentor.

They all knew they had been transformed,
A thousand times that night.
Because now they were all informed,
They, too, hold a valuable Light.

No matter what their lives might be,
No matter what’s on their plate.
They can always lift up and see,
A graceful moon reflecting Her open gate.

She’ll welcome them in any time.
And hold them all so tight!
Through any movement, rhythm and rhyme.

With Her Love always shining bright!

Back later to read


Sitting with John on a rock on Patmos,
watching the horsemen ride forth to fight
in not quite a battle, more of a rout--
judgement and death given full licence
beneath black sky, blood moon, falling stars.

John was His favorite--at least he thought
so. Now with this dark revelation
screened on the barren stones of Patmos,
"is this" he ponders, "why I was spared?
Peter and James, Andrew and Paul killed
while I live here alone in exile?
A searing vision of no holds barred
devastation of all I hold dear?"

"The end is not yet," the angel says.
"Hold on, see it through, watch God prove true
to His word. This is demolition,
preparation of a whole new view--
bright new heaven clean earth, and new you.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
You redshirt louts, rejoice.
You'll sing in praise of Poppy Gray
One time before you're put away
But when you finish with the round
It's them we're putting in the ground.
Tonight we sing, tomorrow pray
We'll give the bastards hell to pay
Tomorrow's blood, tonight we play
Let's raise the keg, fools
Poppy Gray!

Looks like another glitch in the blog: I can only get to this entry via the monthly sidebar, not the main page address.


Morpheus

So you think you can cheat me,
up all hours – partying, watching TV –
it’s all the same.
I’ll follow you like a winged shadow
through the morning.
Overdrawn at the sleep bank,
you plod through midday,
and that’s when I’ll attack:
a gentle stealth,
but ruthless nonetheless.
Is that your head nodding?
Are you saying yes to Dreamland?
It’s closer than you think –
just rest your eyes….
There, doesn’t that feel better?
Let the surreal, disjointed thoughts
commandeer your thinking.
Let the Technicolor movies play
inside your lids; let out
a little guttural snore. It’s okay
to rest your head on the desk.
You’re in my country now,
and I take no prisoners.

To All: Just caught up with reading this week's postings. Wow!

Poetry Prompt Parlayed Perfectly is a comment I have to say.

The tenor of everyone's poetry is so meeting Robert's prompt to write poetry "of what will be and how no one will stand in your (or whoever's or whatever's) way."

Congrats to all for the ferocity which exudes from everyone's lines!

What a power-house of poets in this PA community!

Peppermint Patty

Thanks for the comment, Marie Elena!

Reading these makes me want to take a stand- lots of strong images in the poems!

Happy New Year all.

Brbara_Y not a clue, but I love it!
Danial A "pull off ideas quick as bloody socks" !!
Guilietta-so powerful, such an apt picture
Meena Rose well done, and I can agree from experience its a bad idea to go to sleep reading anything Heinlein didn't originally sell to Boys Life
Sara--me too
Nancy--yeah--football--what happens to us sweet little gals, anyway?

The Fierce Wise Men

Bold and determined the rode out
To see the wonder that certainly others beheld-
What lay beneath that mysterious star
That shook up the sky?

Undaunted, they made their way
To Bethlehem and their minds and hearts were conquered
By the spirit of a smiling little boy!

Seizures

Seize the day
They say
Grab the bull, or brass ring.
Steel your will, take your fill, success is the thing.

No holds barred
They declarred
Squeezing every last drop.
Take no prisoners or sh*t, never quit, never stop.

Carpe Diem
Is how they see ’em.
The feeling’s electric.
But this season of seizin’s
Making me apoplectic.


Let’s try:
Simplify.
NEVER lie.
Enjoy every season.
And always remember that God is the reason
You live, love and laugh
Create, breathe and smile.
But when it comes to kindness…
DO go the extra mile.

*LET THERE BE WAR

You think I’m not the violent type,
But that’s a misconception.
Though, for the most part, that is true,
I do make one exception.
For hatred steams within my bones,
For one who’s small and fragile;
Whose voice can wholly irritate,
And mind is far from agile.
Had I the means, authority,
And weapons for a war,
I’d call in troops, and I’d make SURE
Mosquitoes were no more.
No larva, pupa, egg, or bit,
Would draw mosquito breath,
For I would order all the troops,
“Accept no less than death.”


*Any views or opinions presented in this poem are solely those of an imaginary poet and do not necessarily represent those of the writer. Writer is not responsible, nor will writer be personally liable for any damages or other liability arising from uprising on behalf of mosquitoes, their larva, their pupa, their egg, or any portions thereof.

DE QUEEN IS IN THE HOUSE!!!!

I Found a Mystery Egg

I am a prisoner
of Farmville
trapped in my wall
of colored bales
so coins and levels
speed can the deed
of harvesting plants,
and trees,
and God help me,
a hundred chickens.

You know my torture,
know my level,
my quest
for the next upgrade.

'Till log in issues
temporarily stop
my harvesting gifts
off my Live Feed.

'Till the Tech Gods
have solved the bug
and farmers swarm
to their diamond dirt,
and the Devil seeds
the greedy need
for a hundred neighbors.

Go ribbons!

Should say:

can speed the deed

Wow! Wonderful poems, all. A couple that stood out for me:
Iain-Widows and Orphans - brilliant
Taylor-Opening Statement-last two lines were amazing.
Joseph-as always, beautiful writing
Marie-Both of yours were stunning
Giuiletta-Your poem made me feel as if I were riding on the waves of the ocean.
Bruce-Loved Morpheus.

Marie Elena

I enjoyed your poem on mosquitoes! It was most amusing. It is true . . . they suck!

Thank you, too, for your kind and positive words. Always appreciated!

Hannah

Thank you for your wonderful words, too. Your smiles are always so warm and welcomed.

To All

Time to read has been short. Will look for more time to be with the poems soon! Onward and up word!

DAMN THE TORPEDOES
(Full Steam Ahead)

egg shell walkers
and quiet talkers,
folks too demure and genteel.

passive people
who cram the steeple,
trying to keep thing real.

we've built a nation
of no confrontation,
afraid to step on some toes,

hands raised in submission
assume the position
and why, only God truly knows.

but, the sky is the limit
if we would get with it,
you have to let loose and advance,

don’t shy from the challenge,
this life’s avalanche,
stand firm and give it a chance.

steel your resolve
there’s problems to solve
and you can’t do it with head in the sand,

step up to the plate,
it isn’t too late,
to find your scruples and take a stand.

there’s no honor in hiding,
these things are providing
the tools to complete every chore,

gird your loins, strap it in,
now's the time to begin,
opportunity knocks at your door.

so, damn the torpedoes,
it’s full steam ahead,
the target is clearly defined,

set your sights, take your aim
in this survival game,
your success will be easy to find.

give it your best,
wear it proud on your chest,
and be all that you see in your heart,

for tomorrow’s a dream
and as strange as it seems,
today is a good day to start.

Marie Elena,

The mosquito poem made me laugh out loud!

Patricia,

Your farmville poem would be well-received with quite a lot of my colleagues in the same situation.

Giulietta

Postal Service

She’s casually stretched out
on the back of the couch
by the picture window,
appearing to be nearly asleep
but I know better:
She is watching,
listening,
waiting.
Before I hear the portend hum,
I see her small body move,
almost imperceptibly,
as she braces for it.
Outside, it purrs softly
as red, white and blue
creep into view.
She is alert,
on guard,
ready.
And suddenly, all hell breaks loose
just like every day
at that same time.

Walt, Hannah, Iain - love these -- all on the same theme! You started us off on a great note! May we all be productive & gifted in the new year! :-)

Lots of good writing here. Just a few notes on the ones that hit me hardest:

Salvatore - ALIVE is wonderful.
RJ - “No Matter” -- I really like this.
Cara Holman - Perfectly captured! : -)
laurie k. - gut wrenching.
Connie L. Peters - LOL! It’s a never ending battle, isn't it?
ina - Your “draft” (a Freudian slip?) - sad, sweet, hopeful.

Taylor Graham - “Just listen to the land shrug, a motion to dismiss.” I love this line!
Nancy Posey - Clichés - well done! : - )
Joseph Harker - wow!
Sharon - LOL! Well written. Maybe we should all be spreading our wings?

Marie Elena - melancholy, well captured. (And, Mosquitoes - cute!)
Hannah - Resonance is beautiful. : - )
Giulietta - poignant.

Bruce - There’s no defeating Morpheus. Maybe I should just go back to bed. ;-)

Just a little late! Here is my contribution.

Take No Prisoners

The biting cold has no mercy
It rides the back of the north wind
Searing across the frozen prairie
A cold so deep it burns

Impartially it sucks warmth from the land
And from the living creatures in its path
There is no place for remorse
Or indeed to even notice
The frozen litter of lost futures
Left in the wake of the Arctic cold front

The momma noses her frozen puppies
Curls her own freezing body around them
She closes her eyes and dreams of summer
While the mindless cold turns her to stone

Winter's victim;
more stolen futures to add to his belt
There are no prisoners here.

Nancy Bell

Janet and Patricia (PC), thanks a bunch for the mentions!!

Yay...De!!

Nice writing y'all!!

Fun reading yours, Marie! :)

For the Poetic Asides community, I wish all of you the best for this New Year. I missed some of the end of the November Challenge due to a never-ending kitchen renovation, exhaustion, illness, the holidays, and more exhaustion. Your work so far this year is as wonderful as it's been in the past. I can't wait to see your gift of words during the rest of 2010!


Released

I watched her lying there on the hospital bed.
Her eyes closed, her body still,
her mind locked in a dungeon with no visible key.

Even with her frail and motionless body,
she was somehow still alive,
while a part of me died with every visit.

Life is full of “if onlys”.
If only I spent more time with her.
If only I showed more respect and less attitude.
If only I appreciated the mother she had been.
If only she could be by my side as the person she was.

And now, in my quiet desperation,
I knew our time was ending.
But I had mourned her passing years ago,
as she slipped farther and farther away
into the black hole of dementia.

I cried, a good bit for myself,
but more for what she missed in the passing decade.
Retirement years with my father,
days they should have enjoyed to the fullest,
were an increasingly endless journey into the darkest of nights.

And then, she let go.
She released herself from that earthly vessel
and moved on to a higher plane.
On this day, the ravaging disease took no prisoner.
She left this temporary dwelling for a better place,
where her mind would forever be free.

Thanks all who commented on my poem. I'm determined to make some lasting changes this year, for my health's sake.

Wow ... thanks Giulietta, Sara, Hannah, Janet, and PSC! I sure do appreciate the kind and generous compliments.

Looking forward to reading some more this evening. :)

ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL IT SHALL BE

Prisoners no more, we'll take none.
There are no wrong choices, further
harm or defeat. Only victims
and sufferers shall benefit.
Let us pick up our charge and swarm
over the bloated, full-of-Self
horde; use our longest and sharpest
lances of Right to plunge deeply
with conviction, to set free all
they abandoned in Life and left
to die. Your war din will cause their
ears to bleed - your cries of Want for
Caring, Desire for Love, Need for
Touch. Ones not fortunate enough
to have passed, expired, from first blows:
bind them to the cave's damp, slimy
Walls of Wrong with heavy chains forged
of Human Misery they sipped
as a repast; cover their pocked,
wart-laden heads with infested
blankets from mangers of souls freed,
so all linked may inhale, then choke,
on one, last breath. We shall bugle
our paean as a triumphant
warning to those contemplating
historical repetition.
At long last, we will sleep true sleep -
together, unafraid, in Peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm again late to the table, but all of you provide that kick in the rear-end to get done what I know I must do for myself. Thank you. This prompt seems to have evoked some super-different responses from some of y'all. I'm lovin' it!! I have to say, though, that my response/posting here was one of those rare (for me) events - which I wish weren't so rare - as I felt "pulled" or "pushed" somewhere I don't think I usually go, but I (hope) have learned to let it ride and listen to whatever's speaking to me. W

This is a tough topic for me. Hard to muster that aggressive tone and still take myself seriously. Here's another try, a poem from someone else's life. Someone who was a Rockette.


Does the day ever pause
because you’re not ready
for sunset? Time’s the boss
of you and me, my friend;
and here’s our audience

waiting to be knocked dead.
Is my hat straight? Honey,
your mascara’s messed up
right there. Here, let me…and
away we go. Always

(kick) tight as a (kick) tea-
cake, high (kick) as a fife
(kick). Smile like a ninny,
blush like a virgin wife—
Kick! Kick! Kick! There’s the end.

I can’t do drinks tonight—
kiss—it’s back to real life.


DA

Patricia: As I said on FB, I don’t “do” Farmtown … but your poem makes me want to check it out. Naw … but I still like your poem. ;)

Nancy Bell: So very sad.

Susan Schoeffield: Good to see you back. Your piece truly touches the heart.

Willy: Good to see you also. Yes, this is a very different emotion/mood from you. Dark, but well done.

Daniel: I have to admit, I had to read yours several times. At first read-through, I thought, “what?” During my third read, I began grinning, and my head began nodding. Wherever did you pull this from? Distinctive, amusing, and mood-inducing.

RJ: You absolutely never disappoint. :)

Speaking of never disappointing, Walt, what an inspiration you are. You are still my go-to-guy. If I ever felt I should just quit writing, all I'd have to do is read anything Walt, and I'd be back at it. Thanks for that. :)

A WOMAN’S PLACE

[The women of America must decide this question for themselves.... whether they will exchange the koh-i-noor they now possess for the brassy, lackered bauble contained in the ballot-box.
- Elihu Burritt, “Woman Suffrage and Its Liabilities”]

1. “The Sacredness of Her Sex”

On this too, Elihu, you have your views:
should women get the vote? Their right
on earth. But is it wise to choose
the ballot-bauble and the grueling fight,
and let the priceless diamond slip away?

Are deference and homage then so small,
a woman’s gentleness can’t win the day?
She leads by smiles and coaxing, shuns the brawl
of politics. She “can’t run with the hare
and hunt with hounds” (the Saturday Review).

She can’t have this and that, but must decide
to keep her sacred pedestal, or slide
into the public pit with all its glare,
to soil the hand that held its compass true.

2. A Woman’s Voice

Now Elihu, you taught those school-
girls Sanskrit. Where might they go from there?
A zing of learning’s on the air,
it unzips the fingers, rips the rule
of fathers’ precepts, modest shame.

There’s power in the word, the mind
awakened – in the vote. A kind
of virtue, calling things by name.
Virgil for your sister, Dante for a niece –

past all the hate- or fear-words hurled
against suffrage, and the softer sounds
of mother-warnings, calls for peace
and homely quiet – it astounds:
now, nothing keeps her from the world!

Taylor: Wishing I could write like that.

Sacrifice

I saw the glint of shining steel;
how would it feel?
I cannot tell
I would not suffer them

The loving sea lapped our boat,
so long afloat,
so short a time,
let her embrace me now

Into the green sea,
into the grey sea,
into the blue sea,
I commend my spirit,

Comfort me in flowing arms,
caress me with cool fingers,
kept safe from bloodshed;
they shall not take me

Makayla
By: Meena Rose

No!

You can’t take my unborn child away from me!
No!

If you can’t fix it, I won’t let you break me!
No!

I do not need sedation, I am fully aware!
Yes!

I am checking out of this infernal hell!
Yes!

I am taking my chances among the living!
Yes!

She is now born!

She-Monster

I took this night from the sky and
I conquered it with my fierce lips.
With electric beats pumping through
my lonely bones, I set off for a land
of passion. Somewhere far from
a boy who devoured my heart.

I pulled on my boots. The crunch of
ice and memories as I jumped down
from my car. I stood up and I am
free! Black denim grips tight to
my restless legs as I kick open the world
with a song on the top of my lungs.

Red lipstick and a sweet hole where
my heart once resided. The hunt begins.
A room filled only with music and dance.
Heat rises to my face and I am a
flame in the darkness. They fly to me.
Those boys.

“She’s magnificent!” they exclaim.
With eyes that cut through the smoke,
and arms that pull them closer.
Stranger’s in the night, wild dances
and a deep kiss to signal the capture.
She’s some kind of ferocious creature.

LIFT UP THE MASSES

Grab them by their scruffy necks,
Pull them all out of the bars!
Toss it to the wind,
What the heck . . .
Break open all the jars!

Don’t sit still and watch it go by,
What is the point of that?
Why sit in the corner and be a fly?
Get out and risk a chat!

Compliance is a stagnant state,
It kills any creative thought.
It only has obedience as its mate,
Like something shelved, old and bought.

Where is the real thing that’s happening?
How can carve the day?
How to keep life jumping,
And NOT get out of the way?

Let’s all get out our crazy juice,
Hoist up a huge inspiring flag,
With one great surrender, cut it loose,
Before it, too, starts to sag!

We’ll fly it all about the place,
Shouting from the crooked roof tops,
Just put that giant genuine smile on your face!
And pull out all the stops!

We take no prisoners in this fight,
To lift up the masses so high!
We’ll win the hearts of all who have lost their delight,
Let them, too, reach out for the sky!

Up, up go the lost and lonely,
Get in the sway to the heights, the depressed.
Feel the freedom to be solely,
Released by all the joy you haven’t expressed.

We won’t tire of the inner war cry,
To lift you all so far and wide.
This matters . . . I can’t tell you why,
Ok . . . I’ve been there, I confide!

So I’ll be the first to start the march,
Forward not looking back!
I’ll be the first to toss out the starch . . .
Because with optimism and joy,

There is NOTHING that we lack!

A Toast Long Overdue

Here's to those great-hearted people
who mentor our girls and our boys
who teach them and lead them and guide them
to be anything
do anything
go anywhere
against all odds and obstacles around them

Cheers to those well-meaning people
who toil with our tots and our teens
who coax them and nudge them and push them
to set any goal
reach any height
seize any dream
despite all the demons and foes that surround them

A toast to those men and those women
who get up every day
and enter the fray
and give our kids
something to strive toward
something to reach for

stars and galaxies and universes
they could never imagine on their own.

(Hey Everyone! It's a start back - didn't get to read this week but woke with this one simmering. I have missed the writing and also all of you.)

Dear Lord
May all labels be of value,
so:
give us our daily drink
and let’s forget all about it
until you stand on my doorstep
and tell me
that I’m free
to conquer enemies,
the postman,
for one,
who’s surprised he cannot stuff another letter in our letter box.

Dear Lord
Free me from every letter,
Every sign
of bills
and birthdays’
invitations.
Dear Lord, please.

Dear Lord
Let me have my daily bread
with the red wine and the cheese and the kiss from my husband, telling me life is life and there’s a thriller on Channel 1.
Dear Lord,
Save the whales.

Dear Lord,
Save them,
honestly,
Save them.

Hey all my friends,
There are some mispelling in my poem, I know, but who's reading it anyhow?
Should somebody out there read it or read this then I'll wish you happy New Year. In Denmark where I come from days are growing longer and signs everywhere tell us that soon everything starts.
All beginnings are wonderful, right?
Thanks for a wonderful 2009 - love to head on for 2010 with you.

Iseul G. - a ferocious poem - magnificent!
Janet Rice Carnahan - a positive message! :-)
Theresa Cavicchio - Welcome back! I’m in the same boat & know how you feel. (Liked your tribute to teachers, too. Hit close to home for me.)
Heiberg - A wonderful beginning -- especially the wine & cheese & kiss! I’m betting there are more folks still reading than you think! ;-)

PSC - Thanks for the welcome back and for the kind words. Glad to see you back too!

Heiberg - I'm reading, just back from a hiatus of sorts, and happy to see you here and to have you with us in 2010. Keep writing!

Well, the family was missing the lot of you.
Heiberg, welcome back to the fold.
PSC, there's been a vacant spot by the poetic fires that had your name on it. Glad to have you "home".
Theresa, Missed your voice as well. 2010 will be a better year for all of us, now that you've come back.
Isuel, expressive and powerful.
Janet, consistently exceptional.

Great efforts all!

Thank you!

To Sir Walter,
You never falter,
When you flatter,
You shatter,
Any doubt,
Or hold out,
That a poem didn’t bring,
Any song to sing,
Your words convey,
What you have to say,
In a succinct way,
HURRAY!
And Hooray back to you!
You are the Walt Man,
If anyone can lead, you can!
Just to follow your poetic rhyme,
Is alone worth the time,
You set the standard,
And it’s high,
That’s what I heard,
I won’t deny.
So applause from you,
Is a glorious mention,
It will more then do,

It’s like a verbal pension! :)


To PSC in CT
Your kindness, too, I see.
It is such a gift to receive,
When people read and then believe.
And leave,
Behind a thoughtful comment,
Something sweet and truly meant,
As a sign that they understand,
Poems take a loving hand,
To make the time,
Find the rhyme,
And come out making sense,
Perhaps of something dense.
Thank you for the time you gave,

It is a moment I will save! :)

Walt - Thank you. What a nice way you have of putting things! Your kind words are much appreciated. It's good to be back home.

I know its kinda harsh,
just venting from watching
all those armageddon and
apocalypse shows that are
all over the tv nowadays.



Sometimes it’s not funny,
how things change for worse.
To now be living in ever dark
daily fear of my families’ safety.
Scrambling for the gun and hidden
vantage point at every suspicious
sound and even the eerie silences.
This is a new way to view society,
every person as a potential threat
through the scope of my rifle, and
down the sights of pointed pistols.
Choices have all turned to instinct,
decisions are just a pull of a trigger.
Survival is a premeditated act, too.

Post-Apocalyptica

Meena, as I said at the ICL site, you really should write the story of your life. We would all be glued from the first word.

Kit: enthralling.

Iseul G.: I don’t recall seeing you before. Very powerful images. I hope you will post here more often.

Janet: always ambitious … always uplifting.

Theresa: How wonderful to have you back again! You’ve been sorely missed.

Heiberg: It’s been far too long for you as well. Welcome back.

B.C. Strickland: Another powerful piece.

All: Happy Sunday evening. Hope you are all well!

Stolen
Stolen moments, that happen just when the feeling is strong. Then, their gone. Its like they never happened.
The intense feeling of desire, of drive. The overwhelming wanting, of feeling one's touch, one's body, excited and seeking out the feeling of pleasure.
It happens for a moment, and then it escapes onto another.
Stolen moments that go without notice, taken for that place an time.
The time has left. Expired like the pleasure that was just had. It could
happen again as fast as it had left, but the pleasure only happens when it does.
Stolen moments that seem to take months to happen, but in reality never really did.

LOVE CONQUERS ALL

To love and be loved.
The wish of humankind

in a search for self,
it's each other you find.

A loving heart,
a gentle soul,

a smile, a wink,
you lose control.

A warm caress,
compassion's sense,

the mind's true vision
beyond pretense.

The battle that
true love inspires,

a kindling of
romantic fires.

A fight that you
will never win,

you lose your soul
before you begin.

This game of life
an impassioned plea,

white flag at the ready
it's easy to see.

A strategy
mapped in your mind,

an option really
not well defined.

But you decide,
it suits your scheme

don't try to hide,
go face your dream.

Raise your banner
hold it tall

it's sweet surrender
love conquers all!

IF PURE LOVE CAME

Would it be subtle or shy?
Would we notice it?
In the wink of an eye?
Would it sneak up?
Tap us on the shoulder?
Challenge us to be much bolder?
Would it ride in on the wind?
Or daunt us endlessly,
To go around the bend!
Would it choose who to pick?
Around all of us would it stick?
Would it find us fearful or hesitant?
Or too preoccupied with what we resent.
Would mankind just open the door?
Say, “Come on in, we want some more.
Aren’t we what you’re looking for?”
Would Pure Love discern who was best?
Put us all through some random test?
Would we have to stand and be perfect?
Judge it back based on what we’d expect?
Or would we even recognize,
As it flows so pure we open our eyes,
No longer looking through our disguise,
Rather looking up in awe of the skies,
Knowing that big, big picture is a part of us,
That Pure Love is also inside, no muss, no fuss!
Maybe it just comes because it’s the truth,
Just as natural as a homer was to Babe Ruth!
Maybe it comes to awaken us all.
Doesn’t care if we are small or tall,
It just arrives because it is time,
It comes in to offset things,
We don’t want like crime,
Maybe it’s necessary and practical to use,
Like the writer has to have his muse,
Or the way humor must amuse.
Would Pure Love want us to change?
At least find something to rearrange?
Would it simply think us . . . strange?
Is it possible we wouldn’t even know it is there?
If it came in and sat on a chair?
From yesterday to today, how would we compare?
It to something that shifted that is now not the same.
Could we even figure out its name?
Or would we know it,
Through the Love we show it,
And as we do,
It expands too,
Until we grow,
To overflow,
Spilling our cup,
Until we’re full up,
Of purity and Love,

Connecting our heart,
To the earth and above!

If Pure Love came in,
It would change the world and open,
All of us to a compassionate state,

Maybe now is the time,
It is never too late!

Nice work, you guys. To add to the "true love conquers all" theme:


A new covenant
Wholly filled through Jesus Christ
Redeemer for all

Walt, keeper of the flame, thanks for holding a spot for me by the fire. It’s good to be warm! :-)
Janet - Sweet words. Thank you.
B.C. Strickland - a dark piece, yes, but having been to the movies recently, I can see where it’s coming from. :-O Love that last line.

The fabulous Palm Springs International Film Festival is in bloom, and we are in "take no prisoners" film-going mode, seeing four films each day for eleven wonderful days, so the writing part of me is resting a bit,(though a draft of something called "Off the Grid" is stewing), but I had a chance to read this morning, and was particularly touched by Giulietta's, Taylor's and Daniel's work. Thank you for that...andfor all the rest as well.

Well, do you read this as well?
Thanks Walt but are you really "kicking and screaming all the way."? No, I don't see you that way. You're a man of the good old basics - and I like that but I can't help challenge exactly that attitude. Sometimes I wonder why I need to do that because in my every day life I like the good old basics, too. Well, I'm sorry, but I can't help it when I write poetry. I'll always be the challenger but since you keep up writing then a little challenge here and there hopefully don't harm you.
What really makes me happy today are the greeting from you and from Theresa and Elena. Sure, it's like returning to my good old Robert Brewer, a poem a day, family.
Thank you!
And PSC: that you really saw anything in my poem surprises me. So thank you very, very much.
I like Elena's rhythms and I like yours as well.
Thanks!

Hi Hannah, Walt, Marie, and PSC - thanks *so* much for the comments. It's *good* to be "back."

Robert must have really picked the right topic for the new year - there are SO many gorgeous poems in this lot.

ina

Amen...Marie!

Hello ina!

Excellent reading and a heartfelt blanket shout going out to all the creative efforts!

Finally finished a story for my class, “Seeking the Unseen.” My procrastination did not go down without a battle!


*****************************************************************************

COMPOSING

Extracting carefully
extraneous words.
Coma added, semi-colon
inserted; sentences birthed
from an invisible womb.
Plot, setting and characters;
details flailing in newness.
Innocence gives way
to a learned patience.
Seeking the unseen,
I unearth that which is
buried in the depths
of mind. Tentatively
I move forward as
a life takes form.

Thanks for your comment, Maria Elena. It gives me a smile.

I watched the Rockettes Christmas Special this year. They are so hypnotically precise, not so much graceful as robotic. Robert’s no-prisoner’s prompt brought them to mind because they are so much at the top of their game, and to be cast as a Rockette must feel like an incredible accomplishment. The undercurrent of the prompt, for me, has been about what the champion looks like behind the scenes. That stream of thought made me wonder about the Rockettes as humans. After the drill-team titillation of the crowd, there’s the dancer’s father in the hospital, or there’s the broken plumbing, or the toddler who wakes at night from a bad dream, leaving its mother with insomnia-producing doubts about her ability to be a mother and a Rockette at the same time. After any butt-whupping, the victor eventually returns to grapple with the same doubts and frailties as everyone else.

DA

Marie Elena - Amen from me too, and many thanks for the warm welcome back. Have to do a lot more reading here, but this was an interesting prompt.

Daniel Ari - Well put. It's easy to forget they are real people, people just like the rest of us.

Glad to give you a smile, Daniel. You're absolutely dead on, I'm sure. I bet the Rockettes would appreciate the sentiment, and the poem.

Hannah: Nice job "composing," and that's the perfect title for it.

Hannah--loved "Composing.

A PRISONER OF MY MEMORY

In the silence of the night,
the darkness envelops me with a longing,
an emptiness wrought by the absence of light
and you, a mystic melody fills my ears,
our song sung in our hearts and minds;
stirring a slow dance of eternity’s making.

My steps are calculated and my awkwardness is making
me stumble; I have nothing this night
but these desperate thoughts inside my mind,
and they trigger a sense of longing,
for the sound that has vacated my ears
will still not appear with the coming of morning’s light.

An illumination of thought sends a signal: a beacon; a light
of knowledge that has flavored my being, making
me who I am, and driving the ambition that rings in my ears
like an alarm, purging my sleepless nights
where dreams are not welcome, lost visions are longing
to find a place where love resides in my vacuous mind.

I would lie if I said I really don’t mind
being a victim of this broken heart, in light
of all that has transpired, and erasing this longing
your departure has dictated, making
more sense to let your spirit rest through your eternal night,
and hold your loving words in my hungered ears.

I find myself sequestered in my private jail, with my ear
pressed to the cold stone that bears your name. I am of a mind
to send your memory from my perception, but this night
is empty and this time I have keeps you close at heart, lightening
my spirit for the moment, making
a sorrowful soul continue its longing,

A longing
that places you always here to influence thoughts that enter my ears
within this exile of my own making,
and the essence of your beauty lacing my mind
with the forbearance that your light
shines upon the blackness of my night.

In this night, my prison is my longing.
A distant light that brightens my path, and whispers in my ears,
all that my mind can see, serving a sentence of my own making.

Walt, this poem is so beautiful, it takes my breath away.

Battlegrounds

Came across the stronghold where peace
slid beneath the waves. Raising eyes
to the sheathed sun, to kneel before the glory
of the new moon. Saw the battlements arching,

the memories of burns, slicing flesh, crouching
powers. Saw them rise, burst forth to take the crown
from the enemy’s arms, flailing swords, arrows
aflame. Caught the scent of that fierce march

to the temple, where torches are dipped
in the blood of the saints. Bent nose from the stench
of ancient victory, the ache of ancient warriors
pushing up, rooting, in this newborn earth.

***

Great stuff I've read so far, I have a lot of catching up to do! I've been on hiatus from PA trying to come up with a blog concept, and getting together some stuff for that; it's finally started, but I'm not trying to put it out there too much 'til February, after I've seen how I'll do maintaining it week to week for at least this first month! Looking forward to getting caught up here, though! :)

Marie and Penny...much thanks!!

Walt...sad and beautiful.

Khara...expressive and good luck with your blog! :)

Welcome back, Khara! This seems to be homecoming week at PA. Lovin' it!

Love’s expression, forbidden in this realm, is not silenced in the next. Bless you, Walt.

Iain man. That poem is heavy duty.

My New Years resolutions are;
1. Keep up better with the prompts,
2. Respond more to others on the blog, and
3. Be less satisfied with my work.

Surrender


She is champion of her own heart.
Holds, molds its fragile chambers in her hands
Lands, stands on her own two feet
Complete, set to take on the world, fresh start.

Take No Prisoners

We were cast out upon the Ocean of Dissent
like a lump of mud from some English boot.
Our dream of destiny deliverd us to this land
where westward we went seeking freedoms' route.

Our fathers and fore-fathers sought this way
and fought each other around rivers turns and bend.
As they newly took up the twisted straw in flames
sought to light, yet brought differences to an end.

Difference came to an end, then differing came to end,
so we wore the boots of those throwing us upon the sea.
There always comes time the outcast takes a final stand
to at long last reveal there is no longer us, only me.

We can take no prisoners when everyone is murdered, so,
set the fire, watch them burn, our freedom is our own.
Still the shore is just ahead and the river never ends
and take no prisoners is more than dreams alone.

WHAT WE CAN FIND

Inside the cell of a lost and lonely mind,
Another faculty is there to find.

Least we go round and round,
A profound truth can be found.

What is deeper?
What’s the keeper?

When we’re stuck,
Fresh out of luck,

How can we move?
Get out of the groove?

We can let the mind patterns go,
Trust we are in another flow.

A higher mind, another perspective,
Other streams of thought freely give.

A voice that tells us from the heart,
I have been here from the start.

Forgiveness comes and understanding,
Release the mess, remain standing.

The past went passed,
Future far yet coming fast.

Approaching at lightening speed,
Crying out our very need.

To stop and know the roses,
Bloom and die and fill our noses.

Of reminders that life always evolves,
A loving Truth that alone solves,

Each and every desperate noise,
Offering us a faith it enjoys.

The heart recognizes each lonely dancer,
Deeper still, it knows the answer.

For each wounded and abandoned child,
Other aspects of thought make it wild.

Yet within can equally come,
Each separate part that makes the whole sum.

If we can access the consciousness of our childhood pain,
We can expand that development for our gain.

When it yelps out in its heartfelt misery.
Our bigger heart holds it lovingly,

An inner soothe,
Pure Love, smooth.

A comfort easily accessed from our self.
It’s there, dust it off the shelf.

Otherwise, we are always outward looking,
Like an addictive gambler who’s always booking.

When we use our very heart,
To expand our own compassion, it’s an art.

More joy can come and be consistent,
Flowing beyond a mind that’s resistant.

With so many thoughts running us all amok,
Our own loving heart overrides the muck.

Know it as the unconditional loving you,
Welcome it in . . .

Embrace it. . . watch what it can do.

TILTING WINDMILLS

The banner unfurled,
a white knight on his steed,
rapier wit held aloft,
a scimitar of colloquialism
puncturing his page with each
pare and thrust of
his time honored rhyme.
Don Quixote, stirring up his windmills
and setting his muse loose
in their subsequent churning,
a lone rider into the
forest of thought
emerges on the other side,
weary and anxious, but
charged with an army,
voluntary, not conscripted,
to wage this war of words.
No prisoners taken,
a band of poetic compatriots
at the ready, awaiting
for the next raid Into
rhythmic and lyrical verse,
none the worse for wear.
Blindly, they join him,
trusting his lead, not knowing,
not caring, but sure
the journey will end
in a secure sanctuary,
drawing out the best
they can offer. Showing
that no one follows.
Everyone leads,
Sancho Panza smiles
at the ready;
with windmills
of their own to tilt.

Trying to play catch up on 2010 before I attack the prompts of years past...SIGH

ADHD

I split my qi every day,
ignore lessons which,
in the end, hit me upside
my head to get my
wandering attention.

I resolve to see every
thing as a reminder to
center myself, breathe
deep and take the next
step along the way of

the warrior. I will
sharpen my quill, dip
the tip into a vein and
write with blood, sweat
and tears the next chapter

of my training, the
subsequent stanza of
my life. And vow not to
live with the weight of
yesterday's failures in

my mind or on my body.

We march into the city
with our tanks and guns
and clean out homes
and office buildings.
Our orders are to take
no prisoners-leave them
where we find them.
But one- one is off and
running. No one is going
after him, and he's
getting farther away.
I raise my rifle-
it clicks. And he runs.