The song of the unsung:Wordplay:H-DOT

So yesterday's were brilliant,

But it seems his life's resilient,

On the surface hides,

In the patterns rhymes and feelings,

As he pens in blood vermillion,

Trying to justify,

As the world turns while he's speaking,

In a language human beings,

Try to understand,

To the lonely hearts that's reading,

Who keep searching for the meaning,

Left to circumstance,

I'm a withered tree once mighty,

Over looking streams,

Skipping rocks in dreams,

I'm reflecting in this writing,

Still as waters deep,

So my thoughts should be,

When the emptiness inside me,

In an unsung song,

With no melody,

In the darkness tries to guide me,

That's the nature of,

This mentality,

In the patterns rhymes and feelings,

Clothing naked eyes,

It's a great disguise,

When you're wearing all these feelings,

That you've tried to hide,

Every pain resides,

In compartments deeply buried,

In your head at times,

Like forgotten crimes,

And the weight alone gets heavy,

Rest assured your pride,

Keeps it all inside,

Then the skeletons appearing,

Tend to socialize,

Ghosts of broken lives,

In the end a song for grieving,

Lay your roses down,

For the end is nigh,

-Kelly Ephraim Benjamin Jordan

Picked Off One by One

Good cheer setting traps

today and every other

misinformed day

for the toppers and queens

and everything else

falsely growing green

in the garden.

I’ve been handed a map

of every unearthly mask

that cowardly tries

to evade and get saved

from all that thrives

in that paved over

garden.

When the pickers arrive

forced to dollars a day

to only survive

they’ll know nothing more

than the garden becoming

a whore ridden circus.

©cmd 2022 [aka o.monger]

Melting

I will be watching the sun melt the snow.

Some may think there’s more important

things to do but I’ve been watching Nature

a long time directly and at a glance

and the way she speaks is something 

to listen to.  The west hillsides will be

the first to melt.  There will be

ditches where the sun doesn’t reach,

the backside of trees where snow clings

to the bark, where the heat and light

can’t reach until the sun slips the mid-point

of the sky.  Eventually, the sun melts the snow,

what was covered is revealed, what is hardy

survives winter, that resurrection force that flows

through everything green, all water, all creatures

great and small, you and me.

I’ll watch the snow melt today; those who 

understand, understand.  Those who don’t

can’t dance to those resurrection blues

that need something buried to rise again.

-Byron Hoot

hootism:  knowing limitations is the first act of freedom.

 hootnhowlpoetry.com 

Intimations of Gray

By now the first light should have appeared. 
It is a gray morning.
I muse more and more about gray mornings,
what they mean, the metaphysical intimations,
 if I’m seeing what I need to see
or am waiting for what is to come.  
It takes three sets of eyes to see –those that look behind,
those that see where I am, those looking ahead.
The yarrow sticks are cast.
The sun rising behind a deep pink cloud.

-Byron Hoot

https://hootnhowlpoetry.com

What Will I Remember?

What will I dream about?

The last shot of the day,

the season at 4:00 o'clock

when three deer came out of the sun

across the top of the hill

heading towards a tree stand

I had found.

They came and stopped,

then moved, 

taking them out of the sunlight,

put them more into it.

I drew on the first 

but the last one started to raise her tail

move her ears and stomp

I shot. 

Too soon! 

Stayed still,

but could not reload 

fast enough

They walked away 

across the upper bowl of the valley.

I never hunt without

learning something.

I have already

dreamed and seen 

that scene a dozen times —

it will stay with me until next season

to see

if I will know any more then

than I did the other day

the last day

the last shot

when deer walked away.

-Byron Hoot

https://hootnhowlpoetry.com

I SURRENDER

A Poem by PHILIP KENT CHURCH

~

After being born again, I wanted to fight for God, see the war won,

But, after fighting for what I saw as right, I tired of the damage done.

 

Though I'd been a strong warrior against the world's evils that I sensed,

Defending God and church, in my righteous cause completely convinced.

The fruit of my labor wasn't joyful, peaceful or loving - facts uneasily dismissed.

After behaving and believing best I could, apparently - something had been missed.

 

Well-versed in the Word, I'd sought the full armor to, as a "Christian Soldier," stand,

But I realized I was desiring my own trophies, I hadn't been humble under command.

Though it meant placing my personal aspirations, what I desired, upon the shelf,

I had to become willing - no matter what the cost - to God's will . . . surrender myself!

 

First and foremost, I learned that my feud wasn't with others, the judge is God above,

Though I might be persecuted for it, my first duty to God and neighbor – was a ‘real love.’

That all I was to do and say must be from love, knowing, even in death, God would mend me,

Though there be things I desired and saw as ‘right,’ I'd do God's will - go where He'd send me.

 

I had to humble myself with a will, if required - to be “last” and serve others every day,

And if I became confused - not seek my own, but recall that Jesus is the truthful way.

Though I might not be popular, successful or politically regarded to suffice,

I'm only a foot-soldier in love's Army - my life forfeited - and bought with a price!

 

Sometimes there's a way that seems right, even in what some Christians try to render,

But it must be God's way - He is our commander to whom ourselves, we must -

 . . . SURRENDER!

16 Ways to Poke Yourself in the Eye

                 1

All this stuff about time

and reality!  How much

I miss pretending 

I’m thinking at all.

               2

The curse of too many words;

the curse of too few.

I’d like to live between the two.

             3

I read and read and read;

don’t know how to think.

Thoughts come, say, “We’re

Here.  Got you covered.” 

           4

I keep a nice yard.

No merit for paradise;

only a nicely trimmed

soul will get me in.

          5

Self-discipline is over-

rated.  It is the only 

ignorance I truly know.

         6

“Know the rules so 

they can be broken!”

Nothing gets broken 

anymore.

         7

I shoot the bow 

to lose and find

myself – I barely

hit the target.

         8

I say I know nothing 

of prayer, pray all 

the time, know they’re

answered when I hear,

“Thank you.”

         9

I gave my heart away.

Don’t want it back.

Keep it forever.

         10

My parents are dead.

I keep seeing and hearing

them.  That line between

pretty thin.

        11

My body aches.

My soul sighs.

Who am I to believe?

       12

It is Sunday.

The wind blows as if

it’s Monday. What 

do I know of time?

      13

When I was born I 

had no dreams I’d

be this way.

      14

My parents were 

people of the word.

I am their son.

     15

I have nothing

left to give but 

myself – it’s taken

70 years to figure that out.

       16

People speak of goals.

I laugh.  I prefer being

drawn out by dreams.

     Epilogue 

Tomorrow I may see

more of my follies:

more laughter, more tears,

more dreams gathered around me.

-Byron Hoot

 hootnhowlpoetry.com