Friday, October 23, 2015


by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

Does every canvas
start white?


Crawling around
what's sought
by our eyes?

Brilliant sparkles
glittery ties that kept us grasping;

happily hypnotized?

Our memories
from our beginnings
gray shadows
that slipped through--

hot or cold oil
down a hollowed

steely silver

we encounter blue skies

and sheer darkness is dispersed.

Red Robins sang
happy chirp tunes.
A yellow ball
rolled on an endless horizon.

Then metalized


Zigzagging in intensity.

Striking randomly
soft fragile clay;

causing excruciatingly intense pain
in it's dense piercing.

Purple, red and black

left stained cloth remnants
on the tarnished metal tray.

Will a rosy constitution
rise to lift this ugly hue?


in time words remembered
black and white
upon yellowed tint

smoothed the path
of brown broken gravel.
Paved a road to golden
spun treads

and ancient bullions
found and spent.

Purchased: wisdom
from vast heavens
long past provided;

A bouquet of exquisite florals



So now a carousel
of adventure
spins around
this thankful me.

A plan:
To absorb each gift of our Creator--

and each given day...
A juicy peach.

Isn't Life Grand?
This is my motto.

A bag of colored skittles
painted artfully
upon my canvas,

framed silvery
in its dispense

as flavorful truths
to honest-hearted.

A goal:
rainbowed multitudes
to reach.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Prepped For Survival

Prepped For Survival

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

Survival of the fittest, a quoted motto on self-centered demand. Able members of a kingdom be it animal or man vehemently fight non-verbal assent; some even viciously hand-to-hand.

Classrooms become a landmine causing nervousness
and stress when social friendships determine futures
and fashionistas--who knows best.

Please, don't forget the workplace for which to provide most basic needs. A daily dungeon to face fierce dragons trampling one's conscious with dishonest greed.

These scenes denote our battles carried out most every land. But with aptitude, instruction, wisdom too will help us stand.

Till a final war impending everyday we prep to endure. For sure survival let's cleanse our minds and hearts. Remove bad qualities impure. Anchor our hope to God's Kingdom for our future to be secure.

Take out time for Bible study, meditation on God's Word. For therein lies the answer on how to wield this dual-edged sword.

And when praying for the spirit, with which humble ones chose to connect to our Creator's thoughts, His guidance, one can expect promised sure success.

No need for mortal warfare. No extreme anxiety or fright. For the Day of vengeance is not our business. Judgement is not our legal right.

The victory that will be given to those righteously inclined on a earth cleansed of wicked badness will be a grand provision to an unnumbered of all mankind.

A Gift from God ... Truly sublime.

Survival of the meekest--Reading actions: Almighty Divine.


Written for Contest Survival shown below:

Write a poem for contest Survival<br>
Write me a poem about survival. It could be survival out in the wilderness, surviving hard times in life, or another kind of survivalist situation.<br>
      -NO ADULT<br>
      -NO PROFANITY<br>
      -30 LINES OR LESS<br>

Poem based upon: Isa. 61:2;  2 Pe. 3:9-13; Gal. 5:19-26; Mal. 3:18; Heb. 10:23-25; 11:6, 7; 1 Tim. 4:16; Matt. 24:13, 21.

Monday, October 19, 2015



by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

A fleeting mist
mortals appear
on any given day;

as this sweet fragile mist
clay too faces decay;

still behind us
exists a trail
amazingly we lay--

remnants of our presence

as dew drops

on a blade
of grass lifted by a brilliant sun
then gently laid
as whispers play

by breezes softly blowing;

blessed momentoes moistening
our thirsty spirits
groaning within

as we attain as eagles

Since questions boggle
curious minds
leave limbs a barrow weighted

a spoken or a scripted word
can clear deep doubts
and raise real hopes
anxieties and fears abated.

Winsome pins impressed as ink
on parched or woven pages
as windmills to a seeded plain
promote growth to endure the ages,

help explain
hidden hurts
these puzzles
which aggravate us.

They reach inside
a solid chest
and give a gentle squeeze

to caress
a saddened frozen heart
into pumping again with ease.

So don't dismiss
these dew drops
as small, by any means

for God watches
even weary teardrops.
In His memory
they do remain

till He erases

our constant unending pain
from thieving enemy: Death.

This lovely faith
we must maintain.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

A Certainty

A Certainty

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

A certainty; as air I breathe,
polluted, true. I can agree. Though,
still-in-all, a necessity.

Yes, this I know...
the path of souls
in which they go.

A commonality
of mammal and man,
in life a span,
sadly, short of hand,
like kite yanked loose
by forceful wind;

yet in the end
under mournful mounds
of variant soils

true treasures dispersed
ardent works and toils
for you in vain
since on this plain of dust or rain
no love, no thoughts
still minds retain.

For who has really shown to you
a solid form of past renewed?
Wouldn't war victims who
once loved so true
assuredly reassure
their loved ones too?

A spirit once spitefully spoke this lie:
you eat this fruit, you will not die.
To thus continue this deceit
elusive visuals fraudulently conceived
hapless hearts innocently

choose to believe.

Though peaceful, yes indeed they lay
in darkened tombs and hollowed graves
their memories
precious gems lovingly kept
as for a time
tragic tears many wept.

Absolute truths thankfully unveil
the covered pits
removes the scales
that blind and bind most humankind;
reveals waters of a source Divine.

From pure life-giving clear rivers
once dead ones will drink
beside happy earthly families
who chose to think

upon a glorious elevated name.

This One
fights injustice;

lies and hypocrisy



Friday, October 9, 2015

Have You Ever Wondered....

Have You Ever Wondered....

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

Constant pounding and proclaiming.
Lord Almighty! His words so draining.
There's a party everywhere. 
Why such dire words said to scare?

Can one man proceed so strong
amidst this mighty vicious throng?
Does his family even care
their reputations thus to spare?

Surely, who is he to see
a future dark through prophecy?
Look around you, who does shutter
at these thoughts you choose to mutter?

If I enter that wooden door
just to take a little peek
all my friends and even strangers
will consider me as weak.

But as I watch him carry onward
in intensity he does perform
an enormous occupation
as if for this case he were born.

Could his work, his proclamation
really fill our needs, this void?
Rid the land of degradation?
Can destruction I too avoid?

If I wait closely in shadows
listening for the final horn...

No, I'd much rather chance a deluge
than face their ridicule and scorn.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Jazz Runs The Rails

Jazz Runs the Rails

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

A concrete core
as a diminutive Dante's den
tainted and feral--
a sordid tunnel world.

Stepping timidly, knowingly
or mechanically descending
into its burping belly

various ages, stages
of diverse activities
converging scents:
body odor
train fumes;

yet I slayed
the beast
bested, settled to rest
the butterflies

As skippy melodies fly
to staccato highs and consoling lows
tapping? Dirty sneakers, pointed leather toes
lowering upturned or covered noses.

Posed... me with she
a harmonious extension
of my body;

held once cradled weightless
while trains sped for hours.

Warm—her notes, spiting cold keys
a frigid metal frame
caressed by loving fingers.

Her returning sounds?
So smooth
though porcelain shines
and tinted lips
vibrate woodwind reed.

I sway effortlessly,
even gracefully,
with the melancholy rhythm

stay the moment
in this domain of ecstasy;
pure bliss

mesmerized by long alluring tones
via my sax
into an otherwise unearthly silence
of the underground's entails.

My senses soar
brain waves implore: More
for mere sheer enjoyment of heaven's release

the trills of songbirds
reverberating back to me
lyrical and ethereal.

Sunday, October 4, 2015



by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

"Arch Duke Ferdinand held
international center stage.
His instantaneous tragic death captured
historical front page.
Held an entire world hostage
While I kept peace at bay.
My cronies, true princes of darkness--a third
like me angrily ousted from our once
designated heavenly home
by over righteous older brother
favored. Now enthroned.
Well I will show all
(heaven and earth)
who really rules the roost.
Why God gave me birth
to choose. Free-will. Ha! Everyone will me follow.
God Almighty, your mistake. You lose!
You just can't overlook my glorious beauty
my intelligence, though true, me you gave.
But mankind wants my guidance,
as it leads to the grave.
For I give what they want
independence and power.
See how they willingly fight each other
blood spilling to their final hour.
I've got them all hooked.
As Dracula they don't even believe.
Yet through my horrors daily performed
a cloak of intense dark fear
their hearts will adorn.
To the death they prefer me