Leaders

We here at Fearsome Beard the blog thingy believe in recognizing and even promoting those who we feel are working not only to improve themselves but the world around them.

Yesterday we had the honor of witnessing a break out moment for a rising star of our future. We were so moved by Amanda Gordon that the moment we could find a clip of her poetry reading on YouTube we posted it. Today we learned more about her from Anderson Cooper. We hope to learn lots more about her in the future as we watch her rise into a leader. A leader worth listening to.

She gives us hope.

 

Inaugural Poet

Amanda Gordon / Youth Poet Laureate 2017 – The Hill We Climb – Presidential Inaugural Reading January 20, 2021

Spellbindingly beautiful.
“For there is always light if only we are brave enough to see it, if only we are brave enough to be it.”

Open Doors

”Listing Opportunity” the e-mail is titled

Another marketing spam my mind reacts

A closer observation before deletion reveals sincerity

The e-mail is opened and legit

In my work the listing is key

The key  to my future income and financial security

A response is sent with hope awakened

Anticipation mounts as an appointment to meet is made

Comparble homes are noted and pricing is set

Presentation prepared I properly dress

Upon arrival I stand before a home I might sell

A face of an owner waves me to the side door

Introductions made then a tour ensues

A large flowing floor-plan, a modern kitchen, luxurious baths

Views over the valley and to the ocean in the west

Expansive entertaining patio featuring gardens of beauty, privacy and tranquil

One million seven hundred ninety five thousand the asking price will be

Oh wait there’s another agent or two to interview

Feeling confident I am with the bond we made

Put off another day with more questions asked

Reassurances received from compliments conveyed

Seems they are busy and haven’t finalized decision

Another question, another compliment, yet a few more days

Tomorrow they will confirm with me my listing to be

The Dear John e-mail comes and my hopes fade

Two weeks of hope that my next paycheck will be are lost in a moment

That door open, that door closed

Another door will open as they always do

Which door will let me in I never know

Learning to accept and remain at peace is my goal

Gratitude that doors do open, enriches my soul

Voice

Fearful all alone no one understands

An amoral majority sets the rules

Fearful and alone no one lends a hand

The minions of the rulers do the dirty work

Freedoms are taken one by one

Rulers twist minds, bend rules, stretch truth into lies

Imprisoned, beaten and shunned no longer alone

Hypocrite monsters devout of soul feed their ego

One by one, group by group the prey are consumed

A behemoth demon laughs at the death of humanity

Merely a bystander I wasn’t the alone, thus my voice I never raised

Staring me in the eye the beast salivates

I’m now fearful all alone as no one is left who could understand

Constraint

Once upon a schoolday an English teacher said

“Poetry is an art, an art to be read”

She talked and talked more and more to convey her definition

All I heard were rules to achieve complicated rendition

Assignments were made to put pen to paper

With constraints on my mind every verse was a scraper

Today my expressions flow freely from my finger tips

I find writing is almost as easy as if it were crossing my lips

Rules have a place to make a Society most suitable

But freedom from limits allows articulation to become transmutable

Life’s second poem

A poet I’ve never been

Verse I’ve never written

Words I’ve never bent

Feelings never expressed

Meanings never explored

Yet my mind searches

Yet my mind wonders

Without training could I be?

Could I be?

Could I express feeling

Could I bend word, search meaning

Might I create

I might just communicate

 

Crestfallen

It had been a while

A while since we first met

The fun, smiles, laughter, excitement

Convivial companionship

The message came through

Yes, yes I remember!

A plan to meet

Anticipation builds, memories swirl

The time comes, the time passes

No message, no word

Connection missed

Was it a dream?

 

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

….William Earnest Henley