Poems From the Porch 8
The Requests Keep Coming
It's another lovely night out on the porch, stars in the sky with a gentle breeze, so welcome, pull up a chair and enjoy this week's poetry requested by people you know, or maybe even you yourself.
This week features poems suggested by:
Doris James Mizbejabbers
Bill Holland, and Karen A Szklany
I apologise for this collection of poems being a little later than usual, but I have been busier than usual with other writing projects, so I have had to fit writing them in between other jobs.
Poetry is a beautiful way of expressing feelings ~ happy, sad, angry, caring. It's also a way that we share with other people, to help them with those feelings.— Mattie Stepanek
Doris James MizBejabbers
"You write beauty and you write, well, maybe you could do a combination and call it the 'Beauty and the Beast.'"
Thank you for this request MizB. As you know I have been engaged in writing a short story with Chris Mills called Be Not Afraid. With it, in fact, being a beauty and the beast story I thought I would write a poem based on that story.
However, I had to hold off publishing this poem until the story was competed or this would have been a spoiler.
Expose yourself to your deepest fear, after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.— Jim Morrison
Beauty and the Beast
Beth and Gerald were lovers,
Of that she'd reminisce,
For Gerald had simply vanished,
Without a farewell kiss.
They'd met at university,
Attending the same course.
A degree in Archaeology
Was their common cause.
Gerald went abroad, exploring
Ancient sites and ruins,
While Beth stayed home and studied.
They danced to different tunes.
An amulet that Gerald unearthed
Was affected by a curse.
The simple words, "Be Not Afraid,"
Made his life much, much worse.
Beth didn't know where he had gone,
Gerald seemed to disappear,
No reason why or fond goodbyes.
For his safety she held fears.
Two years passed and Beth moved on,
She went on with her life.
Immersing herself in her work,
She was nobody's wife.
Then one night as she walked alone
A beast leapt from the dark,
Intent to have her for its prey
In an alley cold and stark.
But as the horrid face appeared
Before her very own,
She realised that it was poor Gerald
the love she had once known.
"Be not afraid!" his only words,
But when she said his name
He ceased his planned violent attack
And fled to whence he'd came.
But things are not all carved in stone,
And Beth had found a cure,
To break the dreaded evil curse,
Make Gerald a beast no more.
She said the magic words aloud,
"Fear will set you free!"
Her Love transformed back to the man
He always used to be.
"My one suggestion would be...the true meaning of one's life."
This is a very worthy topic for a poem, Brenda. people have always been contemplating the meaning of life. I don't have all the answers but the following poem offers my thoughts.
“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all; there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.”— ― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin
The Meaning of One's Life
We often ask the question,
"What is the meaning of one's life?"
Do we have a purpose here,
Special talents, skills, or gifts?
Each person is important
And unique in many ways.
We need to recognise our skills
And put them to good use.
We should be kind and generous,
And always try our best
To help all those around us,
With the talents we've been blessed.
True meaning's found in happiness,
To spread love and goodwill,
To give a smile, or lend a hand,
And write a poem or two.
"We've just had National Poetry Day (which I missed and for which I am currently sorting out a hub!). This year the subject was 'Truth' so my suggestion to you is to write some poems on that subject. You could always extend that to poems about 'Lies' or 'Questions'.... etc."
Thank you for your suggestion, Ann. I decided to write a sonnet I called Truth and Lies. it is actually my version of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 138.
I'm a poet, and I like my lies the way my mother used to make them.— Alister Crowley
Truth and Lies ~ a Sonnet.
My love swears that she always tells the truth,
I believe her though I am sure she lies.
She tells me I'm still in the prime of youth
But I know later middle-age applies.
I act as though she's right and I am young,
Although she really knows I'm past my best.
I must give credit to her fibbing tongue
Though both of us the simple truth suppress.
So, how can I accuse her words unjust,
And claim she's wrong and I am really old?
Love's secret formula's selective trust,
And true love always keeps you young I'm told.
I do not question her about what's true
For better her kind lies than feeling blue.
~ or an alternative final couplet ~
Perhaps I need to exercise much more
So I can tightly lock that old-age door.
"Now, when you have the time, I submit my request for dragonflies."
Thank you for another request Bill.
Karen A Szklany
"My requests: Dragonflies, Sunflowers, Pumpkins
Extra challenge ~ haiku"
Karen, as you and Bill both suggested "dragonflies" I have combined your requests into one and written it in haiku style as was your request. Your other two subjects: "sunflowers" and "pumpkins" will appear next week.
Dragonflies ~ Haiku
with your iridescent wings,
skim the lily pond.
Early morning mist
gathers on the still water,
as you hover there.
Searching for your food,
and a place to lay your eggs,
watching you, delights.
Same Place Next Week
I hope you enjoyed this collection of poems and look forward to seeing you back on the porch again next week. I can't say, "same time," because the day and time of publishing varies depending on my other commitments and how difficult or otherwise the requests are.
Next weeks poems will be for:
Hari Prasad S
Karen A Szklany
Just Because I Like Her
© 2019 John Hansen