Category Archives: Poetry

Sunday Stew: Does Heaven Have a Layaway Plan

 

by Latonya D

"Road to Heaven" courtesy of Polly Green
“Road to Heaven” courtesy of Polly Green

As days go by and I get older and older my soul still straddles the fence

So I often wonder will God still have my defense

As good as i think i am, there’s always a touch of bad that’s why i ponder if heaven has a layaway plan

Where, after so much good you automatically get into the pearly gates and talk to God about those thing you’ve done that you hate

So those who ponder about whether heaven  has a layaway plan, let me ease your mind

God designed us all to make a million mistakes , but he also gives some of us remorse to regret the things we’ve done that we hate

So when you walk up to the pearly gates of heaven and God allows you to cleanse your soul and  hands you the keys to his lakes and valley filled of gold and he says my child all has been forgiven your burdens are now mines to carry

Remember this, even if you have a touch of bad

God will always allow you to be on his layaway plan

Sunday Brew: Perspective

by Matt Aspin

Alone
“You Left Me Alone” by Rokkur Rokkur, Creative Commons

Forty plus years and I’ve rarely been wrong

Betting that you would pen a similar song

Left and Right all doing their thing

Certain that theirs is the right song to sing

Denying the fact we’re all scared by the same

Could just acknowledging our frailty make us a little more sane?

A thin sliver of life in a dark empty zone

It’s no wonder we’re crazy- We’re scared and alone

 

Sunday Stew: Opposites Attract

by Lee Baldinger

opposites attract

Men are hard, women are soft

And that’s not just in bed

Without women

Men become cold, brittle, cruel

Start lookin’ for another guy to duel

Hard needs soft

And soft don’t mean weak

In this dictionary

It’s just another word for unique

Roles can be reversed

But not our nature

Yin and yang

Tears and toys

Flowers and monster trucks

What’s going on?

There’s fifteen per cent more blood flow in a woman’s brain

Women’s brains have more gray matter

Where information processing is done

The male brain is white matter dominant

Meaning more physical action

The male brain possesses fewer neural pathways

To and from the brain’s emotion centers

In one year, a woman can give birth once

In one year, a man can produce enough sperm

To impregnate every single woman on earth

If we gave this science lesson as a test

Everyone would fail it

Even if it were an open book test

Everyone would fail it

Because men and women have different answers

Yin and yang

Tears and toys

Flowers and monster trucks

Is it any wonder the divorce rate is through the roof?

That in most relationships, someone becomes aloof?

But if we see each other as who we actually are

Maybe our behavior won’t seem so bizarre

And we can hit a higher percentage of our shots

Cause we ought to be together

We’ve got to be together

Hard needs soft

And soft don’t mean weak

In this dictionary

It’s just another word for unique

Sunday Stew: Undying Love

by Lola Peters

Tango of Love
Tango of Love by Emil Marian

We stand
separated by the shimmer of
Time
Space
yours the sweet, carefree smile
of contentment

Love, you say
is Action, not Feeling
Taking out the trash
changing the toilet roll
cleaning out the fridge
emptying the dishwater
Serving one another
moment-to-moment

I awake with tears on my cheeks
grateful
you have not forgotten me
Aware of the irony
in walking away again
from my own Shadow

Sunday Stew: The Raging Bull

by Drew Sutherland

Angry Bull
The Angry Bull by Mike De Goodaboom

What more do I have for you than this unworthy little thought in the wee small hours? I can’t hold you and hug away your pain, you’re too far away. I can’t run my fingers through your soft hair. Life forbids us even having the time to take solace in exchanging words on the telephone. But I will stare down the time and space, like a mighty bull. You will see me snort and toss my head, knowing my eye is on you and you alone. You will hear my hooves pounding futilely on the earth- my solitary dance of death, loneliness, and warning. And maybe, just maybe, while you sleep, you will feel my breath fall softly on the nape of your neck, my heart beating- strong and hard but NEVER rushed- through my chest and against your back, my whole self pressed against the thin, thin pane of glass that separates the miles. I may fog the glass, but I will never look away.

Sunday Stew: On Aging

Aging courtesy Robert Nelson
Aging courtesy Robert Nelson

 

by Lola Peters

All my grapes have turned to raisins
All my plums are shriveled prunes
A four-lane highway lines my forehead
Bumps and pocks turn me to ruins

It’s not death that I find daunting
Not the end that looms ahead
It’s this daily dehydration
Sagging face and arms I dread

They don’t tell you when you’re thirty
As heads turn when you arrive
It won’t matter when you’re sixty
Some things you just can’t revive

The beauty and the ugly girl
Will wake up to betrayal
The genius and the brainless twit
Will have their projects fail

So glad I didn’t hesitate
To do what gave me joy
But now comes the adjustment
Like that gorgeous gift from Troy

I’m not the grand dame some envision
I’m not the vixen I still see
One of these days I’ll figure out
Who I’m now going to be

But in the here and now time
I’ll do all that I can
To be the woman I enjoy
While I carve out a plan.

Not the end.