Poetry & More

You’re Fired

August 25th, 2015; where were you? This isn’t as thought provoking as asking ‘where we’re you when the Challenger exploded? Or where we you when JFK was shot? Where were you when the World Trade Center was hit?’

8-25-2015 was a life changing day for me. I got fired. First time ever. It hurt my feelings but I got over it. I should have quit long before this day. But the money was good and finding a new job isn’t easy. I had a co-worker that wasn’t easy to get along with (for me). So I started praying, “God move her or move me.” Everyday I would pray this. Well, I was moved.

Looking back. This has been one of the best blessings. Working my way back up has been challenging. But with God and amazing friends; I’m still working on it.

So when you pray, the outcome may not be what you think it should. Remember God has a plan; we have to have faith.

On a side note, she was later fired from the same place.

Sneeze

Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.

Soggy Little Oaty-O

Green

for the green that does not grow

we break our backs

throughout our lives the seed we must sow

in order to make up for the green we lack

some rob, cheat, and steal to get pictures of presidents so grand

others will grind the mill

and hope time will work a plan

we have created a race of rats

to obtain this pleasure so fine

we act like brats

and will not take the time

to quietly dine

with our fellow peers

we are a race of back stabbing money hungry humans

who upon others we jeer

time slips away like grains of sandS

seems that when we are old and gray

do we stop and enjoy the day

do we allow the rising of the sun to define the day

and we no longer need to strive

for the green that doesn’t grow

oh but even now they must worry

and the seeds should not stop from growing

they should produce many berries

for we all need green to live

young and old

rich and poor

we all have needs

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

Excommunicated

Excommunication!

Manipulation.

Silence.

How dare you!

You will need me.

Silence.

I can.

You can.

Manipulation.

Do as I say.

Not as I do.

Manipulation.

Moan.

Complain.

Be silent!

Abandon.

Need.

Manipulation.

There is a built in need in every child to have a relationship or bond with our birth parents.

This need is deep and inherent.

It is the rare child that can say, screw you!

We are through.

Satan will use all forms of torture for his amusement.

Bringing you deeper and deeper into his basement.

Guilt, manipulation, sorrow, anger, even love.

Using all of these emotions, he will shove –

sin into your heart.

All it takes to get a start.

God by my side, I’ll be alright.

With great friendships, I will fight.

Some day you will need me.

Some day you will see.

That the one child you chose,

will leave you out in the cold.

Used up. Spent. Rung out.

Lonely without a doubt.

No more guilt.

No more manipulation.

Only silence.

Silence.

No more trying.

Silence.

No more.

Silence.

You access as been blocked.

Silence.

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/10/30/honor-thy-parents/

Fireworks

An Emotion

For ever little teddy bear

lovable, cuddly, and soft.

There is an evil force

hard, cold, and deadly.

Deadlier than the greatest plague

for it becomes a plague.

More powerful than a volcano,

for it will erupt.

Prisoner of the dark,

bound by fire,

loathing in ashes,

black as coal.

No force on earth can set it free –

but one.

One force stronger than faith.

For it will blind faith.

Greater than anything ever imagined.

A stare can start it.

A word.

A wound.

An act.

It will build up.

It will drive you mad and obsessive.

Totally, unbridled –

HATE!

Nov. 10, 1993

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.

90, 30

Fall is an amazing time.

The world is slowing from its summer grind.

Leaves are changing color.

We are driven inside. The heat from the sun is duller.

I have this memory. Is it true?

There used to be a transition between seasons. Who knew?

Saturday, it rained. But was 85 in the shade.

Monday it was 45 and chili was made.

Wednesday it was 90. No lie.

Friday, snow! I really want to cry.

My sinuses are bleeding.

I can’t stop sneezing.

My head is exploding.

My throat is closing.

Do I have the covid?

Will I no longer be a no-vid?

I remember dad talking about rabbit tracking frosts.

It was 28 this morning. All the heat is lost.

Rain again! Chico needs to go out.

With this disaster, I have my doubts.

Snow on the ground? Really?

Come on Chico, don’t be silly.

Tomorrow it will be 75.

Sunscreen I will need to apply.

No wonder my eyes are watering.

My head shattering.

Where did that transition between seasons go?

Great! More snow.

Flying Objects 100 words

Do you have a “side hustle”? I’m painting a 60’ X 12’ deck.

My surroundings are tranquil. Once this scene was interrupted when a mixed herd ran down the hill toward a pond.

I’m on a ladder; paint brush and can in either hand. Imagine my horror as thoughts of these critters racing through my precarious position fill my mind.

Envision the ladder getting hit. Paint can, brush, myself, and ladder all fly in opposite directions. Fat girl wouldn’t fare well.

The animals get their bellies full of water and grass. I noticed an electric fence between us. Praise God!

The End

I tried condensing 2 of my stories down to 100 words. The complete Flying Objects is an earlier post. This was entered into a Readers Digest 100 word story submission.

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/09/24/flying-objects/

Holy Walls

Must we meet each Sunday?

In front of others , we should pray.

The man to my left,

from our lambs voice is deaf.

The woman to my right,

has lost her holy sight.

They summon him on the Sabbath;

but curse him when they bathe in lives sins.

Where they never win.

I have seen that man two pews up, beat his wife.

I have seen her loose her fight.

He would beat her black and blue.

I wonder if the congregation has a clue?

That man to my left sitting in the front row, is obsessive and his family will not thrive.

There is a woman to my right, she’s an alcoholic and soon will die.

The preacher is not wed.

He is sleeping in a woman’s bed.

I have been to many holy places.

And have seen many holy faces.

One visit is all it took.

One visit to get one look.

None of the places I have been,

have made me want to come again.

The End

If you refer to an earlier work entitled ‘Churched’, you will read that my journey to religion has not been an easy one. Though I wrote this poem many years ago, I still see this pattern in the faces of congregations today. It is easy to see the sin in people and let that sin remove you from Christ. I know in my own religious journey, I have transposed my sins and the sins of others onto the face of God.

Taken from a collection I’ve entitled ‘The Destruction of Me’. Started in the 8th grade through college. Not a published book.