Long Standard Poems
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* For basketball legend Kevin Garnett *
~
intensity ... defined
excuses were for gods and gamblers
(lesser giants with fairer feuds)
HE ... was of a wholly-invested mettle and mind
the conscript of a checkered court
dauntless defender of glass and lattice
and the pride of a kingdom
grand and green.
chilled steel above
warm wood below
the thund'rous awe
each mightied blow ...
adversaries wept for his fervency
ability, focus, effort ...
at levels unequaled and as yet unseen
a vitality and resolve
that at times seemed immeasurable
expecting the utmost from his confreres and allies
yet far MORE from himself ...
of rare devotion to his cause and kind
a jaded gypsy who had found his home and heart -
the hallowed ground
worthy of his marrow and blood.
one honored hub
a stronghold land
worth ev'ry wound
each knuckled hand ...
he was clad in shining-yet-simple armor
- béni avec cinq -
that he wore with a generation's honor
and wielded a sword of sinews and strength
noble and knightly, but of ferocious intent
with a dignity, dark ... outspoken
mindful, selfless ... monstrous and mad
the grace and guile of a mongoose
with the hiss of a snake ...
the childish charm of a leprechaun
with the wild howl of a wolf ...
and a heritage that coursed his veins, veridian.
those demons, green
that spurred his dance
brought each his foes
naught e'er a chance ...
his fortress now stands empty
but the ramparts still tremble with his ire
the ether within those sacred walls
yet echos his roar
and strains to press a cheek
all for the sake of his standard and spoils
and thus, soon ...
yes, soon enough, indeed
those rafters will roil with a banner his own
and a kingdom, blessed, will bow in reverence
for his consummation and creed
and the green blood that still stains his flesh ...
and those proud parquet floors.
one day that land's
bright sun may set
still, flames will burn
the name ... Garnett.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Completely Your Choice 2, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
We have a tendency to focus on our flaws, despite it being what makes us human; what we despise is what one desires, and what we desire is what someone despises.
I felt this way for years; I still do- the perpetuous feeling that I’m horrendous.
When I look in my mirror, I don’t see my full lips, my long lashes, or my hourglass; I see my short legs, protruding stomach, and my eyebags.
Yet people with those flaws are beautiful- so why am I not?
The answer is that I am; I am beautiful, I am worthy, and I’m not horrendous- I simply haven’t been able to process my worth yet.
It seems that each passing year, I reflect on myself, making those negative remarks, rendering myself as unattractive.
Though, next year, I’ll look back on myself and realize how gorgeous I truly was; though it’s not that simple to prevent those negative feelings from pursuing.
Does beauty even exist, though?
It’s repeatedly changed over time, and it’s quite subjective, which has caused me to believe that true beauty doesn’t exist; it’s simply a perception.
I shouldn’t waste my time trying to ease the perceptions of others; I should follow my own, because short legs, protruding stomachs, and eyebags are beautiful; they’re only viewed in a negative way because society itself is ugly.
If I abide by every standard of others, I’ll only feel regret, for my happiness shall pulverize.
If I create myself to be someone who is healthy and who I love, my happiness shall thrive.
Though these insecurities will persist, even with the most attractive individuals- they’ll always haunt you, whether or not you believe in yourself.
So I dissected myself.
…
Carving every inch of me until my insides are out; but when I do so, my organs look the same as everyone else’s.
Bathing in perplexion until I realized; we’re all the same on the inside- and as I try to stuff my organs back inside of me, I remember what people say-
See, I’ve been told before, just like anyone else, that I’m ugly.
People take advantage of others' sensitivity in order to ease their insecurities; but they’re morons who don’t know what they’re talking about.
They try ridding of their “flaws” by projecting it on others, though those rigid thoughts will always remain inside.
But truth be told, we all have the same interior- and..
You’ll truly be happy if you stop caring about the perceptions of others.
*My beloved Oval, I fear that my words fall short of what I am feeling in my heart. May you accept these few lines of love as my best effort of expressing my concern for you. I have heard much about you, but I have yet to visit and meet you in person. The pictures of you are rather striking and stunning.
It was during the 90's that I first became gravely concerned about what seemed to me, 'a tarnishing' of your office. Circumstances surrounding your occupants caused a great deal of weeping in my soul. It appeared as if the dark clouds of contamination were setting over you, and determined to drive out the awe and aromatic presence of your enduring reverence. Nevertheless, like the giant I always believed you to be, you came roaring back to a place of renown in the early 2000's. And Oval, it was so good to have you back. A new leader so deserving of your atmosphere took great lengths to restore the sacredness that was so rightfully due. I tell you Oval, the reality of your presence and power is so pervasive that it extends far beyond your palatial walls. For centuries you have adorned the shoulders of presidents in attire befitting their sacred trust.
Again, I stand aghast that I am observing a cloud of low regard for your office. Oval, this concern is not about presidents. More than 40 presidents have sat in your room, but you are still here. Presently, you are the one I am concerned about. It's my duty to speak up for you at this "high tide" of divisiveness.
Oval, in closing, there are many forces parading through our country; and it appears that these opposing forces are conspiring for a 'perfect storm'. Be advised and encouraged that much prayer is also invading the air waves. I see indications that not only shall we prevail and survive, but we shall also thrive because of God's Good Graces and His magnanimous mercies.
09292017 PS Contest, Early October Standard, Brain Strand Personification Form *Oval: The Oval Office in The White House
Faith is a warm, hooded coat whose
Furry softness provides a barrier
From the icy blasts of cold-hearted people
Who are jealous of the embrace a well-constructed winter garment provides for its wearer, me.
Love bids me open my coat and offer it
To the filthy stranger with an empty bottle of booze
And a tattoo of a pentagram, with a skull inside.
So I hand him the coat and say, "From Jesus because He loves you."
Truth provides me another coat, and one to spare
Because giving away our faith is the best way to multiply it.
And I look for more truth, and see Jesus across the crowd.
He is giving His coat to a man who tightly clings to the hand of another man.
Christianity bids me to give my extra coat
To the boyfriend of the man who just received his.
My call, my mission, to be like Christ, and
I share my coat, my faith, with anyone left out in the cold by The Religious. I cannot pick and choose.
Sin is a reality I live with. I see it everyday.
In my mirror. It is everywhere. And it sickens me.
Yet still I sin and sin again, ashamed of my inability to live a standard
Worthy of the Son of God who knows my name.
Grace is the tiny sip of water you take when you have been in the desert too long.
Slowly you trust that it is no mirage, and you drink from the well
Feeling yourself replenished, rehydrated, reborn.
Everything that was awful in the place you were before is better, washed away by the purity of the water offered freely.
Freedom is knowing that your job is not to identify the wanderers in the desert
But to introduce everyone to the well.
Offer them that free sip that will change their lives as it did yours,
Knowing that you are in no way better than any of these seekers except that you, by some miracle, are allowed to sip from the cup of grace everyday.
Hope paints in my heart a picture of warmth,
Sunlight, people, everyone wearing their faith, knowing the truth, and loving Christ.
Hate is the cold wind, the whispered rumor, the whitewashed judgment that has no place here.
This is a place where we walk not only like, but with Jesus.
Regret is waking to find that you are no longer where you were before.
This new place is hot, not like a sauna, but like the sun itself.
It is dark, and you feel no welcome, no recognition, no love.
You want to speak to the man in charge, but know it's too late.
O glorious dear sun, sovereign of the day, in the sky above
you’re one whose radiance resembles a little of God’s love;
by nurturing all creatures in the world with your unique rays
and setting such a high standard that homage everyone pays.
The Earth and all known planets habitually revolve around thee
as children do their parents whose offspring they happen to be.
Your emissary in the night sky, the moon, a bright reflection is
serving us as a reminder of thy glory while displaying all of his.
You shine on one and all and no discrimination ever make
regardless of who they are and what they do for their sake.
It is no wonder then that people have worshiped you as a deity in the past
and even now continue to do so in ways associated with the weather forecast.
When your light is obstructed by clouds all seems to be somber and gray
but when the sky is clear your majestic presence illumines the whole day.
The whole world in fact dances to thy rhythmic score which has been set
and plays itself out daily as the dawn and dusk through a yearly quartet.
You have such a strong influence on all life as we know it here
that whether we like it or not you’re a symbol of hope and cheer.
Though it has also been noted that you sometimes have an extreme side
but this depends on the whims of nature to which all things must abide.
All in all to the naked eye you alone reign supreme in the sky’s vast firmament
but to those who see further you’re one of countless others which you represent.
The stars in the night sky are your brothers and sisters no matter how distant they be
some being greater and brighter, but made of the same basic stuff, in the cosmic sea.
There are so many secrets hidden in your bosom which are yet to be revealed
that if and when the time comes much is to be known about life still concealed.
In fact the power and energy that flows to us from you I daresay has a divine source
because you yourself are a center and beacon of a universal benign and creative force.
And just as you really give so much and seem to ask for nothing in return
I humbly offer this ode to you in praise which by your inspiration did learn.
And although most intelligent creatures hold you in such high esteem
please also acknowledge our debt to you for allowing us to daydream.
___________________________
( Based on the animated musical produced by Walt Disney
based on the fairytale written by Charles Perrault.)
"Hello Cinderella, how are you ?
I am very happy and still in love,
the Prince is kind and handsome;
and from the first kiss it was truelove !"
"What became of your animal friends ?
I brought all the birds, and the mice,
and other animals to live in the palace;
now, they are safe and think it is quite nice !"
"What became of your stepsisters ?
I allowed them and their mother to stay
in my manor, because they had nowhere to go;
I am sure they will grow old there and decay !"
"What was it like after your father died ?
I was a girl when father remarried,
Lady Tremaine who had two daughters;
then father died shortly after and was buried.
The daughters Anatasia and Drizella were spoiled;
and Lady Tremaine was very mean,
I had to live in a dusty attic room with the mice ;
and everyday had to scrub and clean ! "
"It must have been exciting to go to the ball ?
Oh yes, I was excited and wanted to go,
but it seemed impossible that I could;
until my fairy godmother helped me as you know.
The stepsisters had ripped apart my mother's dress,
but, fairy godmother made me a shimmering gown to wear,
made a pumpkin into to a stage coach;
four white mice into white horses fair,
and a old horse and a dog into a coachman and footman;
it was magic but only till the stroke of midnight.
At the ball I danced with the prince and walked in the garden,
and when we kissed it was delight ! "
"So I know the ending, your foot fit the glass slipper ?
Yes, of all the maidens in the kingdom it only fit me,
and though my stepmother and sisters tried to stop it;
the glass slipper was the key,
soon after I married the prince !"
"Cinderella, my last question is what is
your advice for young girls ?
I want every young girl to know they are a star,
and to never ever give up on their dreams;
because if they wish and wish they can go far,
as the song goes- A dream is a wish ! "
_________________________
February 09, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/A Conversation With Cinderella
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1428-994-09
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Conversation A Fictional Character
sponsor, Natasha L. Scragg, Judged 03/02/2022
First Place
Look at them, tangled in insignificant conversation
about politics or stereotypes of blacks, whites and Asians,
lack of youth education, weather ruined vacations, how inflation squeezing their arm like “yo, I got you taken,
and how fuel became a bill from the money that we are making.
They sacrifice the savings to keep a standard of living.
I hear then talking about their lovers lack of love that they are giving
I say communicate or leave because time is steady ticking
Look at them
Buying expensive rims, and high fashion clothes with sneakers, lugz, and tims. Inside I soul spy like
magnified mri’s an imaginary field force of selfishness and pride.
Careless if they fetus die, cry internal cause maternal really means giving up a lot.
They sacrifice the club shot for shot life and dreams and the scene of kings and queens all decken together…
and their business is each others infused for forever playing tether with the ball of a pendulum. Uncovered
are their memories of covers and words they’ve past uttered…it is just another case of lack of patience
Like gimme good but hold the impregnation. Bright futures still there steady waitin
Look at them
Thinking they can plan their lives, brake the rules of the beehive that ran their lives, make a little honey to
expand their lives, then forget they folk turn around forget they wives.
See she lost her heart and he aint got no eyes but in such a dark world that man is king.’
Look at her flaunting that ring then pawning that ring because all that mattered was a shiny thing. Not the
signs
Look at them tryna rewind. Relight the spark that wouldn’t stay the last 20 times
It should be a crime to try to live back there. Yo people do change but change is rare
They put it all on retail so it can be re-teared
All the hurt made them cold so they don’t care
Blinded by the glare, and the lights and such
Look at them! Don’t they know they done sold too much?
In for a short time touch instead of long term goals
People drive through they souls without no tolls
All control each other’s minds fueled hearts by coal
So hard, so swoll, so invincible is external
Look at them bout to blow so internal
Would you look at them actually living
My observations vicarious as information I’m giving
Look at me all input but no answer
All I am is input but not the answer
Form:
Fragments
They will be...
you do these kinds of things
can't be helped
imagination Band Aids some call them
I know
you just do
fingers wrapped ‘round cold steel
it's then
it's now
differences slight
like playing marbles
tripod-cradled taws and steelies
"Bombers" "Pots"
"shooters" all
aim straight
roll in the hole
you wait a long time
you know there's more to touch
you'll cradle other steel
formidable kind
you know
you hope
you're a kid
you'll do your best
find other holes
aim and shoot
some you dig
some dug for you
explosions know indiscretion
hell...
they say beginnings never end
always renewing
like dawn's edge ever changing
reds oranges yellow
lying on your back
knew those once
before the night never ended
smell the smell now
it's all the same
keeping life going
safe
clean
sterilized
that's what they do
amplified speakers seek help
always there's a page
off the wall
in your battlefront ISP
headgear no different
always the call
always the request
imagination tools
battle tools
you know what's coming
you just do
the swoosh of auto-doors
distant sirens
always there's sirens
always there's arrivals
like now
drinking my coffee
another first day of a new year
every year so familiar
pushing through iron air
waiting to be free
to see a sunrise again
to know a candle still glances
but now
just footsteps
coming at me
a walk I've known
Bethesda recall
remembering when sight
remained at the ready
absorbing fetid squalor
half naked Afghan children
barbarous patience
staring wildly as we passed
elder's eyes theirs
we cradling shooters defenseless
smiling
until
too many buried IEDs
I adjust
steps almost here
sitting seems forever
that's wheeled-life for now
robotic legs in the works
back there
back in Bethesda
coming
coming soon
for now
standard issue dark glasses
covering eyes that once were
footsteps stop
standing now
in front of me
me
Taking my hands
"Lt. Baygen...it's a boy."
"Shall we...your wife is waiting"
my hands grip the steel
following todays fragment
forging yesterday's pieces
a doctor
an imagination beyond
rolling my hands atop the chrome and rubber wheels
my imagination Band Aids
how shiny it all is they tell me
this transport
this evidence
today's somewhere
will he let me cradle him
will he look at me with hatred or compassion
will he know we have made him
what he might become
fragments
longing
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse:
The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were
killed.
The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860.
To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!”
The Ill-Fated Lighthouse
The towering light that threw
Its friendly beams afar
Over the foaming waves,
The sailor’s guiding star,
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms
Where late it bless’d his sight,
As homeward bound he came
In the dark hour of night.
The thundering surges swept
Over the rocky bed,
From which the lighthouse rear’d
Aloft its flaming head.
And lo! They bore away
In that mad fearful hour,
The work that man had made –
The tempest’s rightful dower
And yet a richer freight
The heaving billows bore,
Than wreck of perished Light!
For tossing to the shore
The drench’d and lifeless forms
Of youthful dead there were,
Two brave and manly hearts
That sadly perish’d there!
Farewell ye faithful ones!
Your memory shall live,
While feeling hearts remain,
Pity’s sweet drops to give,
Or any to recount
The terrors of that night,
When the drear sea engulf’d
The hapless beacon light.
And you, ye rushing waves!
Sweep – foaming, sweep along,
And ever as ye go,
Lift high your noisy song;
For thou, remorseless sea!
Maketh all things thine own!
Then send aloft your tune,
And madly thunder on.
husband
didn’t pay attention when she started to change her look,
after all, she’d been saying how she wanted to for a while &
it seemed to make sense,
what with her going back to the gym full time,
after a period of time away
when they first had been married---
husband just went about his days
working more hours than he knew what to do with,
business was good &
with all the business around him seeming to fail,
he’d been putting away for the life he imagined in the future,
with or without
her---
but her time spent at the gym seemed to increase &
thought her body began to get trimmer, sexier, tighter, stronger &
she seemed to walk around the house with a new zest for life
(when he was there to see her),
he still didn’t notice that
the personal trainer had moved in---
she had said something to him,
but he was listening less & less
as he had more & more to worry about at work,
for it was all part of building his empire.
the personal trainer was a less successful man
by the standard that money can by,
but he listened to her
as he traced her curves with his fingers in the gym
with palms of his hand smoothly gliding over her muscles
making her body quiver &
it wasn’t long before in the car outside the gym
they consummated the professional relationship
again &
again &
again &
again.
as she began to show less interest in sex with her husband,
he wrote it off as a side-effect of marriage &
found himself a main squeeze on the side,
a 20 something who needed money to get her through college
with a perkiness that made him feel young again &
a body that wouldn’t quit---
as he grew more distant from the wife,
she grew closer to the personal trainer,
until the day when she brought him home to the house,
when she swore the husband would be gone.
husband found out the way a husband will
when husband had been no longer interested
until another shows his face, as it is only jealousy then
which kicks in, making husband suddenly care---
but personal trainer put husband on the ground
when husband came into his own bedroom
to find personal trainer banging away his bride
who now had no interest in husband---
husband sued the personal trainer for assault &
bride to be divorced husband, taking half of everything he had,
breaking his empire down to nothing
as he had been stupid enough to not require a prenup
at the beginning of it all.