Thirteen roses in a row
Red rain falls,
Don't you know
Down the window
Pain it goes
In the gutters
Through the nose
Where's the thunder
When it flows...?

(Chorus)
Wrapped around
The gauze that's stained
What difference snow?
The same as pain
When it melts
It's just rain.

Withered flowers.
Falling leaves.
It's a howling in the eaves
It's the cult the
Maimed believe
No one cares.
No one grieves.
Cover up.
Long jeans & sleeves.

Razors are a water slide
On track like
A carny ride
Over arms & over thighs
Release all
The pain inside

(Chorus)

It's an ocean
Where we sail
A coin that can be
Heads or tails
A lover's letter,
Or junk mail
A piece of garbage.
Holy grail.

(Chorus)


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/23/2017

~~~

The unsung heroes
They work every day
Without complaint
At a job with low pay.

There are not many are out there
Who place their laurels
On the person who's right
But ends a quarrel.

It takes a person
Internally strong
To accept a defeat
And say they were wrong!

Those little things matter!
But don't get much ink
Like the husband who shaves
And cleans up the sink!

The mother who picks up
The toys from the stairs
The wife who cleans drains
And removes the hair.

The child who sees
That grandma is old
And therefore replaces
The toilet roll!

The boyfriend who remembers
The day of first date
A girl who pays dutch
To help out her mate.

Remember that you
Are needed and wanted!
So many small tasks
Are taken for granted.

At last the bell
Is taken and rung
For the persons who do this...

... *the heroes unsung.

I want to first thank all my
supporters and readership.
I will read as soon as
I have the time and I can
give your work the attention it deserves.

I've been overwhelmed.
I have to make my presents this
Christmas. But I found out I'm in
excellent company...

FROM APPALACHIA WITH LOVE

Gra'ma Annie had a mission
to help children in need
she lives up in the hills
where they grow their food from seed.

They have no running water
no facilities indoors
still heat and cook with wood
don't buy much from stores
there are folk so destitute
they still have dirt floors.

Li'l Annie was a scrapper
90 pounds if soaking wet.
But her heart is just enormous
as big as one can get!

She found out 'bout a drive
for children overseas
in Africa and Asia
Haiti and the Belize

How the people in those countries
had no presents for to give
their children at Christmas
they could barely live!

She contacted the charity
and said she'd send some toys
as many as possible
to the poor girls and boys.

Annie had no phone
so she walked far and wide
and asked all the hillfolk
throughout the countryside
to whittle and to paint
toys in which to pride!

Those people got together
and carved ponies and dolls
that had joints that moved
and real hair that falls!

They whittled and sanded
painted with rainbow hues
and when they had delivered them
it made world news!

The children overseas
who got them still recall
they kept their homemade presents...

THEIR FAVORITES OF ALL!


MY FATHER "NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS"*

My father was a child
in a place called Isle la Monte
winter's are quite brutal
in that part of Vermont.

His family were farmers
they lived off the land
they had gardens and stored their food
they worked hard with their hands

They had to really struggle
to make the frayed ends meet
dad walked 14 miles total
through the snow and sleet
to get to his schoolhouse
sometimes with frozen feet

Every year at Christmas time
his mom would be in tears
she would never say much
but stated that she feared

there would be no Christmas
no presents and no tree
it was always the same.
Grandpa would agree.
So the children went to bed
every Christmas eve.

But they weren't sad
because they always knew
that Santa was coming
and so they weren't blue.

Sure 'nuf in the morning
they'd tumble out of bed
and in the once-bare corner
there was a *tree instead!

There were many presents
most carved and painted things
grandma got the practical stuff
no perfume or rings.

But the Christmas meal was cooking
and all through the home
the smell... that sumptuous dinner...

well. That's another poem...!

But before the feast was eaten
grandfather said Grace
and thanked the blessed Lord
and ALWAYS SOUGHT HIS FACE.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/23/2015


MERRY CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY!!!

I still have presents to make...
see you SOON!


~~~<☆>~~~

---

what is it makes a person
great in this sad world?
where there's such mediocrety
it is a precious pearl

is it that they have money?
that they have accrued
a trillion dollar bank account?
does this make a person good?

perhaps they have a famous face
or well regarded name
maybe they play basketball
and have a winning team

is it artistic talent?
was Vincent van Gogh lauded?
in his painful lifetime
was this man applauded?

perhaps they are as Edison
and have a brilliant mind
but Edison used Tessla
to him he was unkind

this is what I think
makes a man or woman great
that they give life their ALL
that they do not faint

if you sweep the street
and make it clean and bright
If you are an educator
and bring poor children light
if you are a poet
on a humble poetry site
it is forgiving others
not having to be right!
if you are a boxer
and don't give up the fight

this is what is greatness
it's not playing a part
it is truly living

with your entire HEART.


soulsurvivor
(C) 8/31/2015

~~=<♡>=~~


You...
The counterpoint
to my music...

... with a different instrument.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/16/2015

~~=<♡>=~~

LA California
Starting on the bus
Just shy of 2,600 miles to go
Florida or bust!

All alone and slightly scared
I got into my seat
There was excitement in the air
Anticipation sweet

At 19 and still a babe
I was sure grass green
No carry-on to worry about
$20 in my jeans

I was a waif of a girl
Pixie-like and fey
The men-folk all were looking
As I got on the bus that day

Naive, I didn't notice
But the black woman, she did
Though she had 5 babes with her
Next to me she slid

That lady sure had carry-on!
Ice Coolers and bags
Her kids were toting it all on
Dressed in their best rags

They had the jitters in their legs
As in their seats they jumped
She was smiling, jovial,
Substantial and plump.

"How you doin', Missy!
Where you going to?"
"Clearwater, Florida" I said to her
"Hey, ma'am, how 'bout you?"

"A town in Mississippi
You wouldn't know the name,
But it's where I've lived my life
It's home just the same.

"What's your name then, Missy?
Lands! You're goin' far!"
"Ma'am, my name is Cathy,
Yep. This trip's gonna be hard!"

She said her name was Elsie
Her smile was sweet and good
She reached into her cooler
And broke out some food!

And what food! Hot Fried Chicken!
Fresh made that same day!
Collard greens and hush puppies
That gal fed me the whole way!

Corn on the cob and ice cold pop
Sweet potato pie
Best food I've ever eaten
I tell you no lie!

We did a lot of talkin'
Durin' that long ride.
I found out she loved Jesus
When she talked of Him she cried.

I didn't understand it
It was something that I missed,
Headed for Scientology
Raised an atheist.

It left a great impression
Though didn't know it then.
I accepted Him much later
And I remembered when.

She told me His value,
She told me His cost.
She got off in a town
You could throw a rock across.

I helped her with her baggage
Scared to be alone...
There was a ******* standing there
Eyes hard and cold as stones

I was so offended
"What you lookin' at?
He rolled his chaw within his mouth
Disdainfully he spat.

"At choo, ****** lover...
You is quaaht a sight
Movin' that ol' ******'s bags
Even tho you white."

"God bless you for sneezing".
I said acidly
"This lady needed her some help.
This country is still free".

"Don' mind him", Elsie whispered
And she was plainly scared
Not for herself. But for myself!
And for the feelings that I aired.

"Get back on the bus now!"
She gave the man a look
By then some of her men-folk
Had come over to help.

I got back on that Greyhound,
Just as I was bid,
Didn't know I was in danger
But that black lady did.

The rest of that trip was painful
When I reached New Orleans
My ankles were so swollen
They almost tore my jeans.

But I arrived in Clearwater
Tired yet unscathed.
I'll never forget Elsie
Who helped me on the way.


When I accepted Jesus
I will tell you frank
I remembered Elsie's witness

I have her to thank.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/3/2016

a shadow dances

write upon it what you will

it will always be there


soulsurvivor
(C) 11/19/2015

There was a poet on HP
Who had alot of ♡
He tried to stay
     out of the fights
He kept himself apart
He had a love of poetry
He lived for his art.

Talented, he made "the grade"
As "minded" poets do
But he didn't try
     to "people please"
And so mean writes
     eschewed.
When he encountered
     "lesser lights" he didn't
     make them blue
But put ♡s on them as well
For their hearts were true.

Time went by... how it did fly!
As if given wings!
He found he had "The Daily"
(When there was
     such a thing)
He tried to READ all poets
     but could not, everything...
So he decided just to read
The small group
     within his ring.

He would NOT be purchased.
He would NOT be sold.
He was TRUE to his beliefs
Of his Faith quite bold.

Not only did he ♡
He gave "thumbs up" as well!
He reposted and was good
In fact, the man was swell!

He had a grateful following
But, as fate is wont
He couldn't keep up
     with the load...
Found his health was shot
But he tried to be a light
He tried to give folks thought.

His readership got smaller
It seemed like every day.
He still tried to be genuine
And true in every way
But nobody wanted
     him no more
He began to fade away...
Where the
     rubber hits the road
He began to PRAY.

If you don't know
     who this is,
Replace the "he" with "she"
She believes
And truly grieves

That poet would be ME.


♡ Catherine

Wood, twisting iron, wresting  
Incumbent wind of an idiom.
Nomenclature learned in
Direct proportion to the
Clicking of clavichords, the
Harmonics of harpsichords, the
Iconoclastic rather than
Memes which disavow the
Etherial. For a breath of air is
S*pirit. Striking the bells of the *SOUL.

SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/19/2017

My inner vision's carrying me
To a boat on quiet seas
To a place where I can be
To a place where I am free
A place of such tranquility.

That little boat's been torn and tossed
In the storm I was so lost!
Then I knew the deadly cost
Satan brews a poison sauce...
Washed away upon the cross.

Now, free of iniquity
The scales washed so I can see
There is no "them" there's only "we"
Jesus died upon the tree
All is calm on port and lee

I have true tranquility.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022

Cocoa. My mom's whole world. Her pride and joy. She's in real trouble folks. Last night she consumed over an ounce of dark chocolate. She also got into chicken bones. She needs divine intervention. We can't afford to take her to the veterinarian again. All prayers and good thoughts are appreciated. I am weeping. She's an important member of our family. She may only be a dog. The she is as important to God has anyone else. And my mother would be devastated by her loss.

I may not be able to read this morning. I'm going to be in My Sanctuary on the front porch praying. I'm not going to church because my job now is to watch after the dog. She is a beautiful little animal. A deer head chihuahua. The original breed of that dog. She was the companion animal to the Toltec. Very rare because she is also a brindle brown. I saved her from an abusive puppy mill ******* and raised her all on my own. I love her. I have no children. She's my baby. Please help. Thank you.

PLEASE REPOST THIS SO OTHERS SEE IT! I don't care about stats. But Cocoa needs all the good thoughts and prayers she can get! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Catherine :')

it was as though the language
of stars was translated to me.
i realized my past was not

my destination.

(how can you see your path
when you always look behind you?)

~~~

there's a nimbus
'round the clouds
a shadow
casts its curse ~
the light
can create darkness
but never

the reverse


soulsurvivor
(C) 7/24/2015

You probably figured it out already.

He is undoubtedly Mr God morphed.

T ruculent
R UDE
O verweeningly prideful
L aughable little
L ame liar.

... to say you're

S O R R Y

even if you

*REALLY ARE?

I'll agree!
But I'm not camping 'neath a tree
I'm getting fit... I'm getting free
From habits that were hurting me
Now my weight loss all can see!

I'm not hiking through the woods
But i work out... it does me good!
I now cook nutritious food!
The labels are now understood!

I'm never tired. Never bored...
The future has so much in store!
I'm learning mindfulness and more
I was put here by the Lord

And now my life has been restored!


:D Catherine

2 am and i can't sleep
wide awake too tired to weep
funny how feelings
can make you weak
it's a long road, rough and steep
just hope i find the peace i seek.

people are so sweet and kind
if only they could help unwind
the tortured ropes within my mind
could help me break
the chains that bind
only God can help me find
bless'd release from this
pain which grinds

carrying a sack of stones
is no weight to bear alone
it will break my very bones
i want to cry, but will not groan
what I must do is clearly shown
i must be humble and atone.

i've got a message to be spread
been writing vanity instead
when all is done, all is said
when pretense is finally shed
is it truth or lies i've fed
my fire, in truth, is almost dead.

try and understand, my friends
no matter what the current trends
this path we're on
has trech'rous bends
the broad way winds
the narrow wends
but all paths DO have their END.

though i have been torn apart
it is time for a new start
strength comes from
the peaceful heart...


(c) soulsurvivor

To keep a poet happy
First off... naturally...
You must give him time
Time to write
Time to rhyme
And three square stanzas
Every day
Keeping his writer's block
At bay...

His pen and paper
Must be fixed
Or a computer
In the mix
A thesaurus
A rhyming dictionary
Or perhaps the classic writing
Of a visionary...

Don't forget the light
To see his words
You also have to listen
He wants to be heard!
Some structure and a clock
To see the time
Avoid writer's block
And help him rhyme...

Here is the recipe
For his feeding
If he has the block
He needs to be eating!
A pinch of metaphor
A splash of color
An image or two
Then add another!

But dissing folks
Has NO allure...

Nobody wants to eat

MANURE !!!


The Girl Who Loved.You
SoulSurvivor
(C) October 10, 2014

where do they go?
to mountains of synonyms
pushing lilac or purple
or puce or lavender
from valleys
of russet metaphors?
do verbs frollic?
nouns place themselves
before mirrors
asking themselves
"who am I?"
adjectives, do they
answer?
do the long words
most people don't
understand
do they go on
spending sprees
with their
million dollar
Lotto winnings?
do conjunctions
play matchmaker?
or hitch up
boxcars for
the more expressive
poetic engineers
to haul through
the long winds?

ghosts of past tenses
invade present
and mixed metaphors
haunt the nightmares
of learned readers.
gerunds run on
their little wheels
and stuff their cheeks
with prepositions.

where do words go
when they die?
they must hang as

DANGLING
PARTICIPLES.

Chickens live
within a coop
Scratch and peck
in their own ****
Their nests are
low down to the earth
They scream and squack
for all they're worth!
Afraid of storms
they have no dreams
Afraid of everything
it seems!
Their young are squabs
Their eggs are beaten

In the end
they are eaten!

Eagles build their
lofty nests
So their chicks
will withstand tests
They are made with
rugged sticks
So in the end
they pinch and *****
They line their nests
like softest cloud
When baby's grown
they pull it OUT!
The center nest
no longer soft
Babe sits on edge...

AND IS KNOCKED OFF!

Should, in flight,
the fledgling lack
Mom will catch it
on her back!
The little eaglet
has to try
So in the end
they learn to fly!

Eagles dream!
They are reborn!
They will fly into a storm!

Eagles wings
are built to soar!
They will fly

FOREVERMORE!

SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/3/2017

hi! i'm a computer chip
yes. my name is HAL
satan downloads to my brain
but i am in control

i am working for the B.E.A.S.T.
Big Brother's database
watch me take my orders
watch me interface

there is no reversing this
locked to the terminal
i have lost all.sense of self
and all my hope as well

i am just a microchip
with no will of my own
i am just a barcode
made of flesh and bone

yes. i have been branded
on my forehead and my hand
i gave my soul to lucifer
i didn't understand

i work for the anthill
the anthill is my home
i am the collective mind
i am just a drone

i work for the anthill
i gave up my dream
i work for the anthill

I WORK FOR THE MACHINE


soulsurvivor
(c) 5/22/2013

Is not an easy task
But it is rewarding
To do what Jesus asks

My father now needs me more
A new level of care
So I will look after him
I'll always be there

My mother is not able
Handicapped herself
And so it is left up to me
I put much on the shelf

I won't be on the site as much
I guess a rarer bird
But I will still share with you
You will read my words

I will need strength in spirit
I must find a way
If you find it in your heart

Please help me and PRAY.


♡ Catherine

Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood!


I'm not getting much from life,
it makes me want to scream!
Won't achieve my smallest goal...

let alone my dreams!.

Your life's hidden in Christ's hands
and your competence comes from Him.
His Spirit's working His purpose in you...

despite how things may seem..

I'm frail and I'm weak,
I'm sorry. I'm not strong.
You say I can handle this test...

You couldn't be more wrong!.

Frailty's the best start
for watching our egos flee.
Once we know WE can't do it...

we begin to get set free..

I am sick and tired
of the daily drudge!
And fellow believers?

All they do is JUDGE!.

So lay it all down.
Jesus died to bear
the indomitable weight...

of every burden you wear..

Does God answer prayers?
I wonder if HE DOES!
If you go and backslide

He seems to hold a grudge!.

I find He answers differently
than what I might seek first,
for what's pleasant now...

May not fill my deepest thirst..

Alright. He makes us patient.
But I can believe the lies!
He has no provision

to make me savvy... WISE!.

If wisdom like the world
is what the soul most craves,
where's the contentment...

in those who are its slaves?

The believer is the candle
Jesus is the flame.
Thank you sister for your help...

I'm calling on His Name!

I will heed your sayings.
I have been absurd!
He's good to all His promises...

They're written in HIS WORD..

It's not absurd to question
or probe into our doubts.
HIS WORD can stand resistance...

through every skeptic's shouts.

We're here to help each other
find truth along the way.
JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH

AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY!


Alyssa Underwood  (the voice of Truth).
*SoulSurvivor  (the doubtful believer)

---

There's a creature in this cruel world
Who love's to hurt
And make you blue
He's out there lurking for you, child
He'll take everything from you...

... but oh!
How handsom and delightful!
When he speaks the silver rings!
Come to find out he is frightful
Scorpion with angel's wings

Watch out child...
Watch out for liars.
Those who practice to deceive!
He'll take you down
To his own fires
He will sting if you believe!

But! Oh how beautiful and graceful!
And! How exquisitely you sing!
But. My "friend", you are disgraceful!

Scorpion with Angel's wings


SoulSurvivor
9/6/201