Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the city streets where silence weeps,

There roam the gents without a cent,

Their weary eyes hold tales untold,

In their hearts, a resilient lament.

Their shoes worn thin, their pockets bare,

Yet dignity stands tall and true,

Amidst the chaos and despair,

A quiet strength shines through.

They navigate a world unkind,

Yet dignity they still uphold,

In every step, a silent prayer,

In every breath, a story yet untold.

For in their faces, you may perceive,

A beauty that transcends the pain,

A spirit that refuses to grieve,

A hope that dares to remain.

So let us see beyond the lack,

And recognize the wealth within,

For in these gents without a cent,

Resides a treasure, pure and keen.

In the heart of stillness, where whispers unfold,

A kingdom is woven from dreams spun in gold.

Where shadows find solace, the weary take rest,

A realm of compassion, where love is the guest.

Beneath the wide heavens, the stars brightly gleam,

Each twinkle a promise, each sigh is a dream.

Mountains bow low and the valleys arise,

In the kingdom of grace, where the humble are wise.

With rivers of mercy, ablaze with pure light,

The broken find healing, the lost seek the bright.

The laughter of children, like soft silver chimes,

Echoes through fields of the most sacred rhymes.

Here, justice is tender, and mercy is strong,

Where hearts beat in rhythm, a harmonious song.

The outcast embraced, the orphan held dear,

In the kingdom of God, all are welcomed near.

In gardens of hope, where each seed can take flight,

Faith blooms like the blossoms, eager for light.

The burdened find freedom; the captive, release,

In a tapestry woven, the threads weave in peace.

So let us be pilgrims, on pathways divine,

With love as our compass, in valleys we'll shine.

For the kingdom of God, it whispers to all,

A call to believe--come, answer the call.

In the heart of the forest, where shadows weave dreams,

Lies a haven of silence, where sunlight gleams,

A family of bears, with souls intertwined,

Embody the bond that nature designed.

The mother, a guardian, strong and so wise,

With eyes like deep waters reflecting the skies,

She cradles her cubs, soft breaths in the night,

In the whispering woods, they find warmth and light.

The cubs, ever playful, like leaves in the breeze,

Stumble through meadows, with laughter that frees,

They tumble and chase, beneath branches so green,

Life's simple joys in a world unseen.

With each gentle hug, the world fades away,

In the strength of their bond, they find hope and play,

Through thorny brambles and rivers so wide,

Together they wander, with love as their guide.

When storms roll in with a thunderous roar,

They huddle together, hearts beating like oars,

In the chaos of nature, fierce winds may blow,

But in the arms of each other, they always will grow.

As seasons keep turning, the years swiftly fly,

The cubs become giants, under vast, endless skies,

Yet still in their hearts, where memories rest,

Lies the essence of family, the eternal quest.

So here's to the bears, in their wilderness space,

A testament woven of love, time, and grace,

May we cherish our own, through tempest and calm,

For family, like forests, nurtures the balm.

In the heart where whispers weave through emerald leaves,

A towering figure reigns, where the wild heart believes.

With branches like arms that cradle the skies,

The King of the Forest, where silence replies.

His roots run deep in the earth's ancient womb,

A tapestry woven with secrets and bloom.

Beneath the moon's silver, he stands ever tall,

Guardian of shadows, protector of all.

The birds sing his praises, a chorus so sweet,

While rustling leaves dance to the rhythm of feet.

The deer tiptoe softly, in reverent grace,

In the kingdom of green, they each find their place.

Storms may come raging, with thunderous roar,

Yet he stands unwavering, a sentinel sure.

For ages he's witnessed the seasons unfold,

Through summers and winters, through stories retold.

Yet in his great stature, a wisdom imbues,

That life's fleeting moments are what we must choose.

The laughter of children, the scent of the rains,

All weave in his essence, where memory reigns.

So gather around him, dear souls longing free,

For the King of the Forest, he cradles the plea.

In his shade, find solace, in his roots, find your home,

In the heart of the wild, may you never roam alone.

And when you hear whispers, like secrets unfurled,

Know the spirit of nature has gifts for the world.

For the King of the Forest, in stillness, decrees,

That love is the essence in every soft breeze.

In the realm of whispers and echoes,

Where shadows dance and secrets lie,

A poetry of blood and bone uncoils,

A tale both ancient and untold.

From the depths of earth's rich embrace,

Life emerges, a symphony of grace,

Blood, the river of vitality within,

Binding spirits, shedding mortal skin.

Through every heartbeat's rhythmic drum,

A river of life, where stories come undone,

Within our veins, ancestral whispers roam,

In the marrow, histories find their home.

Blood, the ink that writes the memoir,

Of all the loves, losses, and battles fought afar,

Stories of triumph and tales of despair,

Etched upon bones, a legacy to bear.

In veins, a river of passion doth flow,

Igniting hearts with a fiery glow,

Binding souls like love's eternal thread,

Through the labyrinth of veins, passion is spread.

Yet within this poetry of blood and bone,

There echoes an ancient truth, well known,

That life's delicate thread, so easily torn,

Leads us to a destiny, both known and unknown.

So let each pulsating beat be a reminder,

That life's sweet symphony is but a timer,

Embrace the poetry found within your core,

For in blood and bone lies an endless lore.

In the realm of hearts, a day doth hold sway,
A tender symphony, a poet's display.
Where love's sweet whispers dance upon the air,
And romance weaves its spell with utmost care.

Valentine's Day, a tapestry divine,
A moment frozen, like love's sweetest wine.
With roses blooming, crimson as the sun,
And silken words, by cupid's arrow spun.

Each beating heart flutters with anticipation,
In this realm of love, a sacred proclamation.
For in this world, passion's flame alights,
And ignites the spirit with fervent delights.

In whispered verses, secrets are revealed,
Love's true essence, through sentiments concealed.
The softest touches, like feathers on skin,
Bestowed affection, let heartaches rescind.

A chorus of sighs, and stolen glances meet,
As two souls intertwine, love's rhythms compete.
In verse and rhyme, feelings deeply felt,
Expressions of the heart, no words can melt.

Oh Valentine's Day, a poet's delight,
The canvas for emotions, shining bright.
With words that dance upon the page like fire,
Bathing hearts in longing, in sweet desire.

Let love be celebrated, in every verse,
With passion's ink, true feelings we immerse.
For in this poetry, we find love's art,
And touch the very depths of a lover's heart.

In the town of Springfield, mischief stirs,
Where Bart Simpson's pranks, his legacy reoccurs.
With a twinkle in his eye, and mischief in his tone,
He dials the phone, in his realm, he's never alone.

"Is Mr. I.P. Freely present?" he asks with a giggle,
His voice mischievous, his spirit never too little.
A master of disguise, his pranks unfold,
Leaving everyone in laughter, the truth untold.

From "Seymour Butz" to "Mike Rotch",
Bart's creativity knows no blotch.
With each call, a new character born,
In the world of his making, the rules are torn.

His laughter echoes through the night,
A prankster's delight, a mischievous sight.
In every call, a tale to tell,
Bart Simpson's pranks, a comedic spell.

So raise a toast to this mischievous lad,
Whose antics make us smile, never sad.
In Springfield's world, he reigns supreme,
Bart Simpson's prank calls, a humorous dream.

In shadows deep, where friendships fade to dust,

A tale of bonds unraveled, lost, and crushed.

Unfriended souls, once intertwined with care,

Now fractured, torn apart in silent stare.

The whispers of betrayal softly weep,

As trust is shattered, buried fathoms deep.

A rift now carved in hearts once close and true,

A friendship lost, a bond forever through.

Longing for the days of laughter shared,

Now left alone, in solace none have dared.

The echoes of the past now haunt the room,

A void where once there bloomed a friendship's bloom.

Yet in the silence, whispers linger on,

A hope that one day healing will be drawn.

For friendships lost can still be redefined,

In forgiveness found, a new bond intertwined.

So let us mourn the friendships now unfriended,

But never lose the hope that time extended.

For in the ashes of what once had been,

New friendships rise, to mend what's torn within.

In shadows deep where shadows blend,
A whispered pact, a silent mend,
Where dreams take flight on tethered wings,
A commission to the heart that sings.

With ink like stardust, the quill takes flight,
Tracing paths through the long, dark night.
Words, like fireflies, dance and dart,
Each flicker igniting a yearning heart.

Oh, noble task, to carve out meaning,
From chaos stirred, to find the gleaning.
In the echo of silence, we seek the song,
As whispered hopes, both fragile and strong.

Gather the fragments, the world's sweet pain,
In verses woven, like drops of rain.
Each line a fulcrum, a bridge to cross,
Turning despair into joyous gloss.

Speak for the voiceless, the lost and the shamed,
For in every soul, deserving, unnamed,
A story is waiting, a cavern of light,
To break through the darkness, to ignite the night.

The commission, dear poet, is more than a role,
It's the art of connecting, the stitching of soul.
So pen down your truths, let the ink spill wide,
For in every heart's tale, the universe hides.

Let every stanza be a lighthouse flame,
A guiding light through the shadows of shame.
For when the world whispers, "You cannot, you shan't,"
In the flicker of verses, we dream and we chant.

So gather your courage, let your heart take flight,
In the service of beauty, let us unite.
For the commission of poetry is never in vain--
It's a spark of the cosmos, a balm for the pain.

In the neon glow where fortunes dance,
Beneath the glitter of a reckless chance,
There roams a creature, sleek and sly,
With dreams as vast as the midnight sky.

He prowls the canyons of greed and gold,
Where whispers of wealth grow brazenly bold,
Each heartbeat echoes a siren's song,
In the jungle of numbers, where the bold belong.

A master of hustle, a king of the game,
He wears ambition like a cloak of flame,
With laughter that ripples through walls of glass,
In a world where dreams are bought in a flash.

But shadows lurk in the glint of the coin,
As innocence dulled and ethics are torn,
For beneath the howl of the wolf in delight,
Are shadows of lives lost to the night.

The high-flying parties, the glittered excess,
Mask whispers of sorrow, of dreams in distress,
As the dollar signs dance, hearts beat in haste,
Pushed by the rush of a reckless embrace.

Oh, beast of the markets, sharp-toothed, unbound,
What price do you pay for the throne you have found?
The laughter grows hollow, as echoes unwind,
In pursuit of the beast, what treasures we blind.

For wealth is but fleeting, a flicker, a flash,
Yet the scars of the chase? They linger and clash,
In the silence that follows the fervor of heat,
Lies a truth that the wolf will never defeat.

So howl if you must, let your spirit take flight,
But remember the cost of the revelry's night,
In the bright-shining world of ambition and might,
Not all that is golden can survive the light.