What If There Were No C’s?

abc-2860036_1280What If There Were No C’s?

What if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s?
What if all the C’s went out on strike?
Tired of being seen by you and me as just average unlike the letters A and B.
Now here is how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.

You begin your day with a ‘up of hot ‘offee while in your lap is your ‘urled up ‘at.
Then later you ‘ould take your dog for a walk
While wearing your favorite ball ‘ap to keep the sun out of your eyes
Unless of ‘ourse, dark stormy ‘louds filled the sky.

On to the park where the ‘hildren and ‘anines go to play
Where you li’k an i’e ‘ream ‘one bought from a man pushing a ‘art.
While sitting in the park table’s ‘hair you ‘arefully observe the ‘ars
Driving down the street wondering about the driver’s worries or ‘ares.

A gust of wind makes you need to retrieve your ‘ap that just blew off your head.
Your hair now a mess needs ‘ombed but instead of ‘ombing it the ‘ap you wear
The favorite team’s ‘ap does its job of hiding your unkempt hair.
And you let your dog lead you ba’k to the house.

Ba’k inside your ‘ondominium a box of ‘andy ‘alls your name.
The temptation is too hard to resist so you pi’k a ‘ho’olate that’s ‘herry filled
Get a ‘up of hot ‘appu’’ino and sit on the ‘ou’h.
Then into your lap jumps the ‘at and she quickly ‘urls up.

Finally, resting in his home he re’alls his manners,
And remembers to remove his ‘ap, and loves on his ‘urled up ‘at.
Now you know how it would be if there were no “C’s” to say with our A’s and B’s
Because you’ve seen how your life might be if out on strike went the letter C.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Written for my granddaughter Aurora
Written during November – December 2017

 

Poem: The Liberator’s Helper – Part One

The Liberator’s Helper – Part One

Most who are free
Never experience true freedom.
The Liberator’s Helper knew freedom
And his knowing liberty was his prison.

Part One

For saving them from starvation,
The Pyramid People
Honored his
Memory and descendants.

And the descendants
Of the one who saved them
From the famine
Lived in the strange land
As friends
Before being enslaved.

The sun arose signaling
The beginning as a new day began.
The beauty of the morning was everywhere.
The bird’s song announced the break of day.
Then all turned black
As the news arrived that
Human Ruler had ascended to the throne.

The news brought fear
Into the hearts of all clans
For everyone knew
He was a repressive, powerful leader.
And Human Ruler knew not the one used by
The Liberator
To save the Pyramid People
From the great seven years famine
Or even his honored memory.

Brutality was Human Ruler’s method.
Fear was his motivation.
His method and motivation preceded him
And his grand army.
And he tormented and afflicted
The descendants of the one that had saved
The Pyramid People from starvation.
He did this because they were not of his clan.

Yet the children of the one
That had saved the Pyramid People
Increased in numbers in spite of Human Ruler.
They were many with more being born.
They were physically strong and
Demonstrated unusual wisdom.

Because of Human Ruler’s half-truths,
The Pyramid People’s paranoia filled the land.
Their distrust perverted to a great level.

Human Ruler believed
Male offspring
Of the one who had saved them
From the famine
Were superior to their female children.

For Human Ruler
Did not know male and female descendants
Of the one who had saved them
From the famine were fashioned by The Liberator.
The Liberator made both male and female
In the likeness of The Liberator.
Both were equally advanced creations.

Human Ruler with spite
Afflicted the descendants
Of the one who saved them
From the seven years famine.
He had his many lieutenants
Make a burden of their everyday work.
They required from them
Superior productivity with fewer resources.
And they made them
Do the tasks
The Pyramid People would not do
Because the tasks were beneath them.

Human Ruler’s mind
Also devised premeditated evil.
In his private chamber’s secret room
He feared them very much
And plotted their demise in his heart.
And then he gave a directive
To those who help birth the babies
To be part of his conspiracy of doom.

His order to those who helped
Birth the babies were
To kill the non-female babies
Of the descendants of the ones
Who have become too numerous
And say they were stillborn.
He warned less you do this
They shall become too strong and
Ultimately will rule over us.

And rage consumed Human Ruler.
He required those who help birth the babies
To give a report
Of their obedience to his directive.

The report of Human Ruler’s edict’s fulfillment
Amazed their leader.
And to those
Who helped birth the babies lied not.

The report was the impregnated females
That are descendants of the one they say saved
The Pyramid People from the seven years famine
Deliver their male offspring without travail.
“The male babies are born before we arrive,” they reported.
“The delivery is fast and without effort.”

Those who help birth the babies
Feared The Liberator more than they feared Human Ruler
Who believed not in the Liberator.
They did not obey Human Rulers’ command.
They would not kill the non-female babies
And say they were stillborn
On the day of their birth.

And with what great magic,
The magic that is of the Father-Spirit,
The Liberator provided families to care for,
Provide for,
And protect those
Who help birth the babies.

Now the fury of Human Ruler was great.
Wrath filled his heart.
While he ordered no harm for the female babies
His pronouncement was throwing the non-female babies
Into the great waterway that flowed
From the father mountain far to the south and
Into the endless saltwater lake in the north.

Yet The Liberator
Was the one who really was
In control of all things.
And Human Ruler knew this not.

© January 2011 by Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Remembering Janis Joplin

Janis Joplin seated 1970

Today is the 47th anniversary of Janis Joplin’s death. She passed away on this day, October 4, 1970. I wrote this poem remembering her several years ago.

Dead on the Floor

“Tricky Dick” was the U.S. President
In America, a first-class stamp cost just six cents
Richard Nixon froze both the prices and our pay
We still loved going to concerts to see our favorite bands play
The Vietnam War was on the evening news for all to see
Marcus Welby, M.D. was the number one show on United States TV
Over in London, Jimi Hendrix overdosed
On Monika Dannemann’s sleeping pills two weeks before.
And in Los Angeles, John Cook found Janis Joplin dead on the floor.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
© 2011

Originally published in “Writing After Fifty” in 2011.
It is included in the book “Gone Electric: A Poetry Collection” published in 2014.

 

Photo Source: By Albert B. Grossman Management (personal manager), New York. (eBay item photo front photo back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Dead on the Floor

Janis Joplin seated 1970

Dead on the Floor

“Tricky Dick” was the U.S. President
In America, a first-class stamp cost just six cents
Richard Nixon froze both the prices and our pay
We still loved going to concerts to see our favorite bands play
The Vietnam War was on the evening news for all to see
Marcus Welby, M.D. was the number one show on United States TV
Over in London, Jimi Hendrix overdosed
On Monika Dannemann’s sleeping pills two weeks before.
And in Los Angeles, John Cook found Janis Joplin dead on the floor.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
© 2011

Originally published in “Writing After Fifty.”

Photo Source: By Albert B. Grossman Management (personal manager), New York. (eBay item photo front photo back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Coffee

Coffee

By Jimmie Aaron Kepler

The timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time my alarm rings.

The first cup hides my morning breath
as it energizes the blood flowing through my veins
enabling me to stumble to my car
and drive to Starbucks for more.

A sunrise latte gives me the pick-me-up required
to face the tollway and morning rush hour.

A generic cup of Joe at work
gives me something to hold on to
as I begin the first
in a string of meetings.

A mid-morning cup of coffee
provides the jolt to make it to noon
where a fresh cup at my favorite café awaits.

Then a mid-afternoon cup
helps me survive the challenges
before the clock announces it is 5:00
and I can leave.

A drive-by Starbucks
provides the lift
before I sit in traffic
during evening drive time.

A fresh pot greets me
along with my
after-dinner pie and ice cream.

I fill the pot with water,
add fresh grounds
and set the controls before retiring for the evening.

And the timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time, my alarm wakes me.

“Coffee” by Jimmie Aaron Kepler originally appeared in the September 23, 2013 issue of vox poetica Magazine.

Photo Source: Pixaby

Comments about Coffee and Jimmie’s poetry:

  • Jean – “Jimmie! Beautifully written and all too true. I like the way you ended as you began. Thank you so much for this engaging poem.”
  • Annmarie – “Jimmie Kepler writes a love poem to a rock star.”
  • Brittany- “I love his story poems. He writes wonderful narrative poetry. They frequently remind me of the lyrics of a folk song.”
  • Marissa – “I heard Jimmie do a reading of ‘Forever Still’ in Plano, Texas about a year ago. His poetry has the passion of the Beat Poets, the tenderness of the hippie poets, and the intellect of the renaissance man. His southern gentleman manners and charm as well as his soothing, Bill Clinton like voice and pacing makes a woman dream of snuggling, curled up by the fireplace with him as he holds her and reads his magical words to her. I love his poems “Forever Still” and “While You Were Sleeping.”

Family Reunion by Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Smoky Mountains - Missionary Baptist Church 3

Family Union

The setting was an old wood framed church house.
Built on the crest of a gently sloping tree covered hill.
Its wood siding all faded and weather-worn.
The brass church bell for years had been still.

He walked up the hill to the church house.
With each step, old long-past years reappeared.
Soon in his mind, he could hear the congregation singing.
Then down his cheeks streamed the warm, wet tears.

Once again, the old song leader was his grandpa.
His young Mama on a pump organ played.
Packed on the third pew were his mischievous boy cousins.
Standing by the back door to the music his dear daddy swayed.

And old remembrances flooded his being.
A grand family reunion was well under way.
Hearing again the stories of King Jesus,
He couldn’t hold the tears at bay.

Then he moved from the little wooden church house.
Walked down the hill on the path just ahead.
The music and memories slowly fading in the distance.
He arrived at a cemetery with the graves of his family long dead.

There will be a great reunion in heaven in the future,
They’ll all be reunited one wonderful day.
They were all Believers in Jesus,
He’s the Light, the Truth, and the Way.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
December 2015

Picture Credit: Jarek Tuszynski / CC-BY-SA-3.0 & GDFL [CC BY-SA 3.0 or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons


Jimmie Aaron Kepler is a novelist, poet, book reviewer, and award-winning short story writer. His work has appeared in Christian publications like Deacon Magazine, Church Leadership Magazine, Discipleship Training Magazine, and Sunday School Leader Magazine as well as secular publications like Bewildering Stories, Beyond Imagination, Poetry & Prose Magazine, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. He is a former Captain in the US Army.  He holds a Bachelor of Arts in History with minors in English and Military Science from The University of Texas at Arlington, Master of Arts and Master of Religious Education degrees from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, as well as the Doctor of Education degree. His books and collections available on Amazon.

Your Best Friend


Your Best Friend

If ever you find yourself being broken apart,
Because the one you trusted has broken your heart,
And all the time you find yourself crying,
While on the inside you feel like you’re dying,

Call me if you feel lonely,
Come to me when your life needs to mend,
From time to time you need only,
Someone with love unconditional – your best friend.

One time life gave you a fright,
Existence was as black as a moonless midnight,
You were feeling so out-of-place,
With no one to hug or embrace,

Then you saw the light,
You came to me in the middle of the night,
And you ran to me to give your heart,
And that’s when your new life did start

Call me if you feel lonely,
Come to me when your life needs to mend,
From time to time you need only,
Someone with love unconditional – Jesus, your best friend.

Copyright © 2008 by Jimmie A. Kepler
Originally published in “WORDS..RHYMES..POETRY & PROSE!”
Also published in: “Writing After Fifty” and in the book “Gone Electric: A Poetry Collection.”

Starting High School

Grace Slick today at age 77
Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane 1967
Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane 1967

 


Starting High School

In San Francisco, it’s the summer of love,
Long haired hippies, peace signs, and doves.
In Vietnam, the soldiers are dying,
Back home their families are crying,
And Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.

Jim wants to “Light My Fire,”
While Grace’s rabbit only flies higher.
The evening news shows the war isn’t cool,
This week I started high school,
And “All You Need Is Love” is what The Beatles say.

Written by Jimmie A. Kepler
Schertz, Texas, August 1967

The photos are of Grace Slick. She is an alumna of Finch College where she majored in art. She is an accomplished artist. The artwork is hers.

Note: This is the oldest poem I have written by me. It was in notebooks and papers my mother gave me a few months before she passed away in 2014.

Aren’t parents great about keeping things and then later in life returning them?

I wrote this poem as a freshman at Samuel Clemens High School in Schertz, Texas. It was just outside the main gate at Randolph Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas.

Impressing my English teacher was challenging. The assignment was to write a paper on “What I did on my summer vacation.” Instead, I wrote about what was happening in popular culture. Instead of prose, I wrote a poem. She called me a “beatnik poet weirdo.” I viewed her insult as a compliment! I gave in writing five pages of drivel avoiding a grade of “F” on the assignment.

Dead on the Floor

Janis Joplin seated 1970

Dead on the Floor

“Tricky Dick” was the U.S. President
In America, a first-class stamp cost just six cents
Richard Nixon froze both the prices and our pay
We still loved going to concerts to see our favorite bands play
The Vietnam War was on the evening news for all to see
Marcus Welby, M.D. was the number one show on United States TV
Over in London, Jimi Hendrix overdosed
On Monika Dannemann’s sleeping pills two weeks before.
And in Los Angeles, John Cook found Janis Joplin dead on the floor.

Jimmie Aaron Kepler
© 2011

Originally published in “Writing After Fifty.”

Photo Source: By Albert B. Grossman Management (personal manager), New York. (eBay item photo front photo back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Cowboys Hats or Fedoras

Cowboys Hats or Fedoras

In long ago, by-gone times,
Dallas was still cooled
By Toastmaster and Limit electric fans

Before Bob Wills’ Ranch House was
Renamed the Longhorn Ballroom
Back when “Sam” Zamudio became
The Sham and formed the Pharaohs

Gordon McLendon’s KLIF
Was the mighty 1190 and top 40 was all it played
With Irving Harrigan in the morning
Before he moved to Highland Park
Becoming Ron, not Ralph Chapman

When theater row stretched
For several blocks along Elm Street with
The Melba, Tower, Palace, Rialto, Capitol,
Telenews with its newsreels and short subjects,
Fox with the live burlesque, Strand, and
The Majestic was still the grandest of them all.

Back when Lou (aka Lou Lazer) and Ann Bovis owned
The landmark Dallas nightclub Louann’s
At southeast corner of Greenville and Lovers Lane
It was that special place
Where all the teenagers had to go

Unless they stopped at the filling station
To buy with a quarter what they hoped to use in the big back seat
At the Astro or Gemini Drive-in where they steamed up the windows
Never doing what they claimed they did

Dandy Don quarterbacked Coach Landry’s Cowboys, no longer SMU
While Dr. W.A. Criswell was our conscious
At the historic First Baptist Church

We wished Friday, November 22nd never happened back in 1963
It was a time when nearly all men wore cowboys hats or fedoras.

© 2012 Jimmie A. Kepler