Almost!

 

 

Almost is not good enough

A miss is as good as a mile,

Don’t ever be mistaken

A frown will never be a smile.

 

“Almost!” we so often hear

And so often we will repeat,

There is no thrill of victory

Just the agony of defeat.

 

Second place is a loser

Just like third or even last,

However near you have come

There is still one to get past.

 

Victory was still elusive

And no gold medal to show,

Though second in the race

Honours to the winner goes.

 

Almost is not good enough

A miss is as good as a mile

In the list of the top honours

You will not be in that file.

 

With just a little more effort

I would have been the first

But the reality of the matter

“Almost” is like a curse.

 

Like the West Indies team

Almost means they are close

But at the end of the match

Nothing of which to boast.

 

It is as near as they come

To winning a cricket game,

Almost means not beaten badly,

It is no winning refrain.

 

Perhaps you might have heard

Of the boy who lost a quarter

“I almost found it,” he had said,

I couldn’t contain the laughter.

  

A valiant effort was put in,

They almost saved his life

But almost brought no consolation

When they told it to his wife.

 

No stone was left unturned

To his rescue many had come,

Almost they had pulled it off

But his life on earth was done.

 

From racing to losing money,

From cricket to a life lost

But the final episode I will share

Speaks to an eternal loss.

 

Almost will be a cry of anguish

Like none ever heard before,

“Another chance please, I beg,

Tell it to me once more.”

 

To what am I referring?

It is important that you know

Lest at the end of this poem

You say nobody told you so.

 

King Agrippa was one

Paul had witnessed to him,

“Almost, thou persuadest me,”

He replied, regarding his sin.

 

A rich man was another

To Jesus he came one day,

Almost saved but he walked away

His wealth o’er him held sway.

 

You who are reading this

“Almost” need not be your cry,

It certainly will be I assure you

If Jesus you continue to deny.

 

A day of reckoning is coming

Whether you believe it or not,

Let it not be “Almost”

That will be a horrendous shock.

 

Stewart Russell © August 2019

 

Nobody and No Body

 

 

Easy to spot when written

But not as easy otherwise,

In reading it is the intonation

Unless otherwise disguised.

 

Text, audio and video:

Three ways in which we present,

By now you know what I mean

We are talking news content.

 

Nobody and no body

Appear in the news quite often

And they are easier to distinguish

When either one is written.

 

When the police arrived

There was no body at the scene,

Nobody had any information

Re where the body had been.

 

Pretend to be an announcer

And read the verse before,

In order to indicate the distinction

Intonation must be at the fore.

 

Video is just as impossible

If you catch what I really mean,

Try showing nobody or no body

At a murder scene.

“Nobody was at home”

No problem deciphering that

But change it to no body

And you have a case to crack.

 

So, when you read this poem

Be prepared to intone,

Especially if you are reading aloud

And people are in your zone.

 

Otherwise it would be confusing

These bodies to differentiate,

Between a nobody and no body

Let there be no mistake.

 

Even with nobody alone

One must be very careful,

For if the indefinite article goes before

That speaks of certain people.

 

 

 

Nobody, let me quickly state,

Likes being called a nobody

Since a nobody is a type of person

Nobody thinks of seriously.

 

So, be aware of these nuances

That can at times cause trouble,

Intonation makes a lot of difference

And also, the indefinite article.

 

Stewart Russell © November 10, 2021

 

Is God A Church Member?

 

 

A rather strange question

You might say,

But one that needs asking

Given our way.

 

And to which, if any,

Does He belong?

I ask as you answer my friend,

Don’t be wrong and strong.

 

Think carefully

About the question asked

And do not treat to it

As a trivial task.

 

Here are some questions

I think you could consider

As you go about attempting

To give your answer.

 

Are you a church member?

How did you become one?

Did you, like some have done,

Fill out a form?

 

Was there a period of time

Before you were accepted

And a convert’s class to attend

Or else rejected?

 

Is your current church

The one you started with

Or was there some concern

That caused your drift?

 

Is it far different now

Or could you move again

Since the problems from before

Are still causing strain?

 

 

Are you looking, I must ask,

For the right church;

One where God is a member

And it doesn’t hurt?

 

There is no such church,

Not between four walls

And I dare say you won’t find it

Anywhere at all.

 

Any pastor is a member

Of the church he leads

And unlike God, the Church’s head,

Must follow its creed.

 

Church rules differ

From church to church

And some are so extra biblical

They can cause you to hurt.

 

Do also note

There must be people there

For one can find a people-less church

Absolutely nowhere!

 

And where people are

There will be people problems

And those same people are called on

To solve them

 

God is not a member

But He is the head of the Church

And therefore, not apostles or bishops

Or any religious expert.

 

 

Herein is the answer

To the question at the start,

And this also makes Him the Head

Of every born-again heart.

 

Stewart Russell © February 20, 2024

 

Iconic and Ironic

 

 

Few things really excite me

And there is a reason for this,

Life is so fleeting and things so transient,

Everything is but a light kiss.

 

I do get a light thrill, though,

Out of English words

And in some cases, I must admit,

This borders on the absurd.

 

I don’t go looking for them

But they just jump out at me

As though they are making sure

Of something I should see.

 

Examine with me, if you will,

The following two:

Ironic and Iconic and this is of course,

If you’ve nothing better to do.

 

There’s a bit of ironic in iconic

Especially when related to heroes,

One day they can be icons

And the next, they can be foes.

 

 

One slip and you are out

No matter how good you had been,

It is the irony of life, you see,

In a flash, it’s the next scene.

 

It is like friend and fiend-

Just the ‘r’ has been removed,

A minor difference some might say

But most would not approve.

 

Similarly iconic and ironic:

The ‘c’ replaced by ‘r’

But without hesitation you’ll agree,

The former is better by far.

 

The iconic are accorded

Tremendous esteem and praise

But it is incredibly ironic, at least to me,

This is often a phase.

 

I recall an incident

Around the late sixties,

Garry Sobers threw away a match

And my father was so angry.

 

 

A photo of the icon Sobers

From the partition had hung

But at the outcome of that match

It was treated like bird dung.

 

Garry Sobers had declared

And England won the test series,

All the other matches were drawn

And therein was the irony.

 

From friend to fiend,

From iconic to ironic,

Garry Sobers sporting declaration

Made my father sick.

 

 

In my father’s estimation

Garry Sobers had fallen so low

That the icon’s photograph

Flew out the window.

 

Isn’t it ironic, I must add,

The interplay between these two!

Today the iconic; tomorrow the ironic!

Such a hasty change of view!

 

Stewart Russell © January 20, 2024

 

More Bits and Pieces

 

 

Bits and pieces

Are just what they are

And sometimes to hold them together

You need more than tar.

 

Some people so love an argument

They can’t live without one,

They will argue for the sake of arguing

That abnormality is a norm.

 

I heard this in an Ad

I believe it was Mac

He was coming with a brand-new song

From way back!

 

 

The most controversial person ever

Was a Jew,

Sorry to burst your bubble

If you thought it was you.

 

The inbound journey

Is always shorter than the outbound

And this is not a feeling,

It is a fact, you clown!

 

Time goes so much faster

When one is having fun

But time just drags on and on

When one is glum.

 

Loads get heavier

The longer you carry them

And may I humbly suggest to you

Gravity is not the problem.

 

If you can see something

That just isn’t there

Then you are either very old or mad

Or, you are not here.

 

 

We argue about the dead

And what the dead doesn’t know

As though we are experiencing death

And must make a show.

 

Some people are dead

But just too scared to lie down

Feeling that if they stay on their feet

They will indefinitely stick around.

 

Picturing my own demise

Is a daily habit

And for sure, one of these days

I will experience it.

 

I have something to tell you

But don’t tell nobody

And that’s why the body we tell

Is always somebody.

 

It was a dead giveaway

Witnessed only by the dead,

Don’t put the living in the dock,

Put the dead instead.

 

 

I heard an incredible story

That was so unbelievable

And though I was willing to believe it

It was forgettable.

 

Have you ever written something

That you couldn’t understand?

That last one was!

That was the plan.

 

The judge asked the accused,

How old are you?

“Half your age, your honour,” he replied,

“Given your view.”

 

 

That very last one

May have been over your head,

Ponder on it for a little while

If you are not dead.

 

I tried eating a banana fig

That must have contained a rope,

It was not fully ripened

As I had hoped.

 

If you are a Bajan

You’d understand the last one,

If you are a Bajan but still can’t

You are probably a blonde.

 

 

 

A fully functional machine

To rid us of the sargassum weed

Has not be used for a very long time

And a part is its need.

 

While covered up it was discovered

At a certain location

And the above explanation was given

By a certain politician.

 

Politicians are known to say

The stupidest things

And at times can be so overwhelming

One’s ear noticeably rings.

 

Unemployment has gone down

A politician once recalled

But couldn’t be seen by the naked eye

Was his call.

 

You mustn’t speak ill of the dead

And I certainly agree

Hence, when I am gone, I won’t like it

If you speak ill of me.

 

 

With these bits and pieces

It is sometimes hard to land

So that I could fly around all day

But that is not my plan.

 

Just one more I will give you

And I assure you I won’t lie,

After that I will be out of here

And it will be, “Bye-bye!”

 

If you are still waiting

It means you just didn’t get it,

I am not a politician

So, lying is not a characteristic.

 

Stewart Russell © May 18, 2024

Old Age

 

 

Old Age is a sickness

And a very serious one too,

No cure has ever been found,

Nothing doctors can do.

 

Medication is for life

However long you may live

And the trouble that you get

Is the trouble you give.

 

“Old age is a brute!”

It’s not me that said it,

In my seventies I’m still young

With no pain as a habit.

 

I can still walk fast

And also run and ride,

A little jumping, I can still do

But won’t lift my bride.

 

While she isn’t heavy

She’s just too heavy for me

With my reality of seven decades

And a decreasing ability.

 

No aches and pains as yet

At least, not to cause concern,

Just a reminder when moving off

But I am beginning to learn.

 

However, I must admit

I’m in a bit of trouble,

Between the hours of ten and six

I’m more fragile than a bubble.

 

Old age says it’s hotter

And I must totally agree

When the feel like temperature

Is higher than the mercury.

 

Right now, it’s 81 degrees

But it feels like 88

And it’s twelve minutes past ten pm;

Kind of hot for this late.

 

 

Exacerbated by old age!

For the old it’s even hotter,

Thank God for that little breeze

I’m actually feeling better.

 

“Old age is a brute!”

You didn’t hear me say that,

I’m just repeating what I heard,

For me it’s not a fact.

 

Where was I again?

I just lost my thought,

Please take it easy, don’t rush me,

I’ll feel more distraught.

 

With us old people

It is largely about feeling,

A feeling to go most of the time

But where is too revealing.

 

Loss of hair and of teeth

Gravity pulls everything down,

A gummy laugh and watery eyes

Somewhat like a clown.

 

A hundred metre sprint

Walked in ten minutes flat,

I’d have opt to ride rather than walk

And surely eclipse that.

 

I have a dear old friend

And she is ninety-five,

She will tell you that if she had to,

She could still drive.

 

She couldn’t drive me

And that is for sure,

I would not even take that chance

If I couldn’t drive any more.

 

She wears no spectacles

Just fashionable shades,

She can read the finest print

Where younger eyes fail.

 

 

But she has aches

And she encounters pains

And has to rely most reluctantly

On her oft misplaced cane.

 

Wherever she leaves it

It’s not there when she needs it,

One gets the distinct impression

Her cane is more fit.

 

In twenty-four years-time

I will be ninety-five,

That will most definitely depend

On if I am alive.

 

Hopefully I will be aware

And some quality will be left

For to be a virtual vegetable

Is worse than death.

 

At the beginning I said

There was no cure for old age

But old age definitely disappears

At the death stage.

 

Old Age is a sickness

And a very serious one too,

There’s no cure other than death,

Mine is still due.

 

Stewart Russell© May 13, 2024

 

Delusions of Grandeur

 

 

Take a good at the title

Does anything come to mind?

Of perhaps a place or a person

Especially in these times?

 

Delusions of grandeur!

I’m sure you’ve heard the term:

Some idea, opinion or proposal

Rather difficult to affirm.

 

A party comes to mind:

A certain political party, I mean,

Having fallen from its lofty height

Is now a real “has been”.

 

 

Yet trying to convince us

They are a viable alternative

To the party that is now in power

That's relatively ineffective.

 

Delusions of grandeur!

If you see what I mean,

Unable to manage internal conflict

But can handle a bigger scene.

 

Unable to climb a hill

But a mountain will attempt,

Such looney, delusional endeavours

One must stoutly resent.

 

Get your act together

I would most definitely advise

For managing a country is serious

And not about silly asides.

 

Surely, it’s not about egos

Punctuated with regular outbursts

Where allies are sworn enemies

And with foes are immersed.

 

It is also the Government

That is in need of help

With astronomical projections

But clearly out of step.

 

 

Digging a hole to get out

But only going farther in

Such as sourcing money to pay loans

By excessive borrowing.

 

Hoping the tourist dollar

Would get us out of trouble

But ignoramus, partisan supporters

Afraid to burst their bubble.

 

Engaging multiple reforms

So that we can become a republic

But becoming a republic even before

Was a cleverly crafted trick.

 

It is like winning the race

With the race yet to be run

And having also collected the trophy,

The organizers must be dumb!

 

Delusions of grandeur!

The opium of the electorate

Who actually feel that since 2018

We are in a better state.

 

We are now among the stars

And shining just as bright

Though we’re just a satellite for others

And their fire we light.

 

Delusions of grandeur!

We shall soar once the PM flies,

Her recognition will be ours as well

And her highs will be our highs.

 

To be first class by 2030

With little right now to show,

Surely this is a delusion of grandeur-

And I know that you know.

 

Talk doesn’t an economy grow

Or fuel from a politician flow,

If such were the case all would be well

And Bim would grow and glow.

 

Finally, to the church

With its delusions of grandeur,

Promising miraculous breakthrough

But saints continue to flounder.

 

Prayer sessions on the increase,

And prayer warriors too,

A clear case of delusions of grandeur

With little or no breakthrough.

 

 

 

Miracles that never took place

That recipients dubiously claimed,

Some condition for the moment gone

Which the recipients feigned.

 

But back again the morrow

Or with a few days having passed

Or, as the placebo effect wore off,

The miracle did not last.

 

Deluged by delusions

Parties, Parliament, parishioners,

But putting one’s faith in Jesus Christ

Is not a delusion of grandeur.

 

Stewart Russell © May 20, 2024