November 2023 Poetry Contest - $500 Cash Prize - Page 3

I wish heaven had a phone so I could hear your voice again.
I wish heaven had Skype so I could see your bright smile.
I wish heaven had visiting hours so I could be there each and every time.
I wasn't ready for you to go, God had other plans and called you home early.
Too soon... we were caught off guard and didn't have a fighting chance.
But you said, I'll see you on the other side as you slid into the light and I said my final goodbye.
I wish heaven had a phone so I can tell you how sorry I am that our time here would've been spent fighting.
I wish heaven had a phone so I could call you one last time to tell you how much I love you. 

The sun shines down on the mirror above my head.
I float alone beneath,
the rays of the sun unable to reach me.
My arms spread,
my hair flowing with the water,
my eyes open.
Water takes me in its embrace, gently pulling me down.
The light's disappearing.
The mirror is slowly slipping out of my reach.
I start to become part of the sea;
until I can see the sun no more, I surrender to my new home.
My home at the bottom of the sea.

When the road is long
And your Will is gone
And you feel like folding your hand
Let it be known across the Land
An Angel walks among us
And her name is Emery Ann

She loves lullabies and chasing butterflies
And playing in the sand
She rides unicorns and lassoes rainbows
And her name is Emery Ann

She makes won't think it will
And now ol'caint thinks he can
She makes the stars twinkle and the Moon shine
And her name is Emery Ann

Kings and queens bow at her feet
For in her presence they cannot stand
She's the greatest thing since Jesus came
So let it be known across the Land
An Angel walks among us
And her name is Emery Ann

Opposites attract and that's why we're the perfect match, right?
One negative, and one positive.
Magnetic attraction, fulfilling each other's satisfaction.
You negative and me positive.
Assuming that's what led you to my sacred space, that negativity needed some positive to get out of that sunken place.
Scientifically speaking no one knows the magnetic field mystery. So it only makes sense that we stick together and make history.
You know two of the same magnets just push each other apart. Negative and a negative no fun there just two of the same fighting against air.
And a positive and a positive just doesn't sound right, those two there will always put up a fight. Magnetic attraction, coming together to fix the fraction of what you caused with your negative reaction.
Opposites attract and that's why we're a perfect match, right?
Nothing to do with science but just like a good drink you always mix sour with a hint of something sweet.

Stepping through the pine and holly wreathed front
entrance of the homeless shelter,
as a Christmas Eve snowfall decorated the city,
I carried a fresh turkey,
I heard joyous singing of adults and children as the
warmth of the lobby with a splendid bright Christmas
tree filled my spirit.
There was also the baritone voice of a man with
such a generous hearty laugh.
I became momentarily distracted by a t.v. on
low volume playing the vintage animated
"Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer" movie.

When suddenly a scent of peppermint and nutmeg
delighted my nose,
a flash of antique-red and faux fur white trim with
a long curly snow-white beard swirled that sparkled
with ice crystals.
There was a thumping on the roof,
and a resounding jingle of many bells.

I felt Christmases of long ago were here again,
a six year old me meticulously placing decorated
sugar snowmen cookies and hot cocoa by the
burning fireplace for St. Nicholas to pause and
enjoy,
I was soon asleep after laying down in my bed.
I know I just saw him there at the shelter,
the children weren't sleepy that Christmas Eve,
there appeared so many presents under the tree,
as their parents drank coffee finishing up servings
of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

We can see Santa Claus year-round in so many
people,
you can feel him in someone's hug,
in the benevolence of family, friends, and
some strangers.
In giving of time or charity in food, money,
an embrace,
someone comforting you,
a pet cuddling you.
I know I saw him,
and so do many of you-
in the Christ Child we have peace.

Wondering wonderlands of a timeless stay
Where the leaves fly and the winds sow
Seeds of the new, glows of the old
The Most Patient pant their breaths and hold
When the dark harvest comes, and souls are sold

Wandering wastelands of seamless ways
Where the leaves die and the winds blow
Where minds come and do not know
The persisting reckoning of a time to come
But no time comes, the plan undone

Smoldering deadlands, eternal shadows
Where The Faithless stay and The Hopeful lay
Dormant within the great lost fray
Worried spirits reach down in aid
But they have no hands to take

The lies, they have their way again
In the endless repeating path of pain
Where truth, at last, it makes its way
Through an open door of brightening fate
The Wounded reach out in wretched hope
But the truth? A joke, now hope is broke

Champions of justice step into the game
Hope is restored upon the broken plane
A battle against deceit ensues
And once more faith springs forth renewed
The Brave believe that the shift comes soon
But The Champions are caught, they thought they knew

The Enlightened point to the eye of the storm
There one must go to free their form
The Brave about-face, they resist no more
And faith and hope yet again spring forth
Somehow The Brave still believe they can
Then they can't, into the endless span

Laughter echoes in the hollow halls
Of beings who know not where to fall
The eye of the storm contains eyes of storms
And The Enlightened do not know anymore
The depths to tread to find Heaven's Door
Then...in jest...there may be no Door
But nothing but The Lost who endlessly explore

To my dearest mother and father,
I was your only child,
you both desired that I go to college.
But I joined the Army right after I
finished high school.
There you were at my boot camp
graduation,
clapping in the stands,
your eyes were welling,
so proud of me.

Mom, your warm homemade bread
scent filled our farmhouse with comfort,
it tasted so heavenly with our own
churned butter.
Dad, I wish I could shoot baskets with
you again,
the Middle East wars claimed so many
of us,
yet, our valor and honor survives.

Please, don't feel the painful aching in
your chests anymore,
please don't weep,
as I still feel summer timothy beneath
my bare feet in the purest of dew.
I hadn't a betrothed to carry in my
heart,
but, then again, I was only nineteen.

At the Veterans Cemetery with family
and friends in an ebony clothed sea of
mournful humanity,
Mom, the folded flag of our America
was placed gently in your hands.
I know your souls have a brokenness
over the loss,
yet, God has me for the ages.

I miss working our dairy farm,
the cow's mooing is sweet music
to me.
There are other fallen soldiers midst
us,
it is sad to say some didn't hear
from home.
Our spirits are here with you,
my beloved parents.
We are standing watch over our
farm of many acres.
And, dear Mom,
we can smell your homemade
bread,
that fills our afterlives with love.