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Couplet Places Poems | Couplet Poems About Places

These Couplet Places poems are examples of Couplet poems about Places. These are the best examples of Couplet Places poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

Leprechauns, Fairies & All That I Need

Way back in the woods all nestled away
I found the place where Leprechauns play

To find the place I had to first find the door
Keeping it hidden is what the Waterfall is for

Behind the falls there lies a mystical cave
To scale the cliff one must be very brave

As you enter the cave these words are true
The most magical of places is waiting for you

The cave is not dark in fact it’s rather bright
For thousands of crystals are beaming with light

As you pass through the cave it is so clear to see
There are places on earth where men shouldn’t be

As I stepped out of the cave on the other side
My own amazement I could never hide

There were waterfalls, Rainbows & Butterflies galore
I felt as though I had stepped through Heavens door

As I took to the path it suddenly occurred to me
This path is made out of gold, as gold as could be

I looked at a tree stump and got lost in the spell
For the sign in front said, “The Leprechaun Hotel”

A hundred tiny windows were all beaming with light
For the sun had just dropped, dropped clean out of sight

A whole world had lit up right before me
Mushrooms were homes for Fairies you see

Sometimes in life we embrace the magic of a spell 
Mystical creatures in heaven, far as my eyes could tell

The fairies were tiny angels that lit up the night
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and bright

Then all at once a feeling took over my soul
And I truly felt that it was time I should go

As I turned to leave I heard a Leprechaun say
From all of this gold you’ll just walk away

The fairy said, “One wish is granted to you”
“Make any wish you like and it will come true”

I explained how wealth was once all that I sought
And my dreams and wishes were already bought

You see God sent an Angel who planted a seed
That sprouted our love, which is all that I need


Inspired by a wall painting at my Dentist office
and written for my wife.


Details | Couplet | |

A Bag of Popcorn

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise

When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right

I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song

True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load

I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should

For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight

He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl

I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide

They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise


For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better. 



Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees


(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)


Details | Couplet | |

Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd


                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun


                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry


                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat


                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers


                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                      
                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates


                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

 
                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues








Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet


Details | Couplet | |

Erin Go Bragh

At Ben Bulben’s feet Sligo stands
The home of such creative hands

Where poet William Yeats did grow.
The Nobel Prize his poems did know.

On my trip to this emerald isle,
I yearned to visit a long while.

As sun poured through the misty sky
Shedding warmth with its golden eye,

I stood beside the lough in awe
At dancing diamonds that I saw

Near Connemara’s tall twelve bens 
O’er lands of ancient souls that wends.

I sense their haunting watchful eyes
And feel my roots where rivers rise.

I hear the voices lost at sea,
They echo on eternally;

As with the thousands who took flight
During the worst potato blight.

Their sadness streams across the seas
Where most souls died with unheard pleas.

Those sad and tragic days long past,
And Erin’s joys returned at last

To verdant Lee and sandy shores
To music heard across the moors,

To people with the kindest hearts
Is what this isle to me imparts.

© 2013 

*Erin go bragh means Ireland Forever
*lough means a lake
*Ben means Irish, a mountain peak


Details | Couplet | |

An Iowan's Heart

The sweet green hills of Iowa were once my home
Till I moved west where buffalo once used to roam.

I now live in a valley, mountains all around.
It’s lovely, but there’s not one firefly to be found.

I don’t miss Iowa’s muggy air, for here it’s dry,
But how I miss the pretty farms with corn so high!

I miss the summer twilights spent with family
And seeing mighty Mississippi roll past me.

To stay here where I am now seems my destiny,
And yet an Iowan’s heart will always beat in me.


Details | Couplet | |

Whilst the Clock Ticks

Whilst the clock ticks, appear memories of her past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Would it be the one from old, or the one from her recent past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Many words were shared, to the future forget the past For three faces she owns, which would be the one that lasts Whilst the clock ticks, reality now met her past For three faces she owned, it's the older one that lasts *~*


Details | Couplet | |

The Zoos and Us

We went to the zoo that fine summers day
Seeing many an animal in captivity play

From all over the world, five continents all
Where many are thriving, and many will fall

I find it ironic when we view and we stare
For outside we slaughter, in their dens and their lairs

The above line tells me that the zoos are the place
To save her gems whilst us humans lose face

As her marvels diminish, we praise these acres of land
And salute those who cared and drew up their plans

For the zoos they created are their dreamed thoughts ahead
Without these few acres, many species would be dead

So next time you visit, either a zoo or a park
Look beyond their boundaries, as you stand in the Ark


Details | Couplet | |

If I Were To Work a Miracle

If I were to work a miracle I know what it would be
In selfish quest I'd ask to grow in someone's company

Then we could prosper sharing precious moments in life
If I could have the same children, I'd pray she would be my wife

I would treasure the ground she walks on, in joyous harmony
For before I requested this miracle, she opened my eyes to see

Many things we share, architecture and music are two
There's history and geography, she says binds me and you

But it's the music that cements us, especially with Queen
If I were to work a miracle, then this would be my dream





Details | Couplet | |

That Girl in the Dress

Finally I've made it to paradise, surrounded by the sea
Tranquil blues in shadow, are what it's peripherals be

White buildings reflect the sun, an image I'll never forget
To watch our sun disappear, the most beautiful of sunsets

Whilst the night comes down, such beauty continues to be
My eyes now in capture, to the sight that confronts me

She stands in proud like stance, a lady unknown to thee
Tanned, so beautiful I witness, impressed my eyes do see

Torso shaped with black, white lace adorns it's low
It's the she that wears it's colours, that makes it's beauty flow

Hair of dark curls hang, like the "Gardens of Babylon"
Flavours of life emanate, my heart appears in throng

As I sit here in La Ola, on paradise by the sea
It's where I witnessed that girl in the dress, captured, I am thee







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/lorena-2.php



Details | Couplet | |

Marble in Columns on Green

On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute

For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes

A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken

So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife

On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys

For the living, life goes on 
Tomorrow is another day


Details | Couplet | |

Civil War

This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands

To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes

Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread

It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears

Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun

Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last

Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist

Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies  

I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts

For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php



Details | Couplet | |

When the air becomes visible - rainbows

The sky on days become too full
And gravity will start to pull
And capture every bubble frame
While popping corks off rich champagne
The trees will fool and start to dance
And still the time on every branch
With baron shrine and fruits to bare
The wind that strokes and blows through hair 
On top-down journeys come to pause
And settle howls with loud applause
Before acceding way too fast
They leave a trail that sprouts from past
Of flitter flatters in delight
And pitter patters out of sight
Extending dreams as arms beseech
To touch the always out of reach
Parting ways, they kiss goodnight
Before the lips close way too tight
The watermarks miraged for miles
With poppy sighs and angel smiles
A substance of the rarest rare
The healing voice of hearts that care
The silver clouds left in its wake
Remain untouched for heaven’s sake
It can’t be met from anywhere
But viewed to share the secret stare
and ponder why it’s so reborn
Transparent in its naked form  
It paints the sky with gold perhaps
For all to drink from natures tap
The air contains the future’s plot
Seen at times, at others not 
It’s written in the stars you see
Eclipsed by mind and soul-ar key
Failure amidst surrounds of air
That doesn’t mean love isn’t there


Details | Couplet | |

A New Coat Of Paint

There is that barn again
The red peeling paint shouts

Old worn gray tired it says
Memories running track

Back in the fourties when
Youth did reign rule really

When the paint was new red
Dancing and prancing here

Singing joy fiddle plays
Squares were formed to music

Kicked up her heels in time
Red paint new drew her beaus

Well now that tired worn look
Only need new coat_paint


Details | Couplet | |

Autumn

Immersed in the sound of the low rustling wind
Memories and places they haunt yet again
Passed by so quickly as each falling leaf
Drifting and flowing on an unyielding stream
A current to carry from birth right on through
Filling our moments with cares which ensue
A mind lost in remnants of lovers and friends
Babies and children and time long since spent
Familiar, intangible, just out of reach
Longing for ghosts that my heart doth beseech
Winter is looming and summer is past
A time for remembrance the years gone so fast
Beauty is captured in my last breath of life
The sparkling colors in the warm golden light
Do mimic the glory and wonder be told
In those bright days of autumn and a life to behold
 


Details | Couplet | |

He Left Her a White Rose

Its the morning after the night before
As i leave my new wife, whom i lovingly adore

My orders came through, overseas i head
With my band of brothers, not knowing what's ahead

    Married for days, whilst conflict takes him away
    Holding sheets where we slept, my memory bouquet

    At the bottom of our bed, there lies a virgin white rose
    With a note beneath i am in momentary froze

    I sit and stare as to what it might say
    Knowing this is the day my love flies away

My darling Tinks i leave this white rose for you
Its pristine appearance describes my darling so true

It symbolises you, so innocent so pure
With your love in my heart, i will return i assure

Think of the day, from these distant lands from beyond
For the morning after the night before, we will respond

    This virgin white rose, so bridal so pure
    You and its safety i will secure, for you to return for our future

    The day you come home, it shall lay on our bed
    And we will continue our lives, as you have always said

    I will go about my tomorrow's, thinking of you every day
    And prey that this virgin white rose, never turns deathly grey





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-9.php


Details | Couplet | |

Colors of the season

Somewhere in the city beneath the BLISSFUL sun 
A gardener has planting to do with her green thumb 
WHISPERING by are butterflies with ELOQUENT colors to the eye    
Perched above on a limb the neighborhood bird begins to sigh
It declares with LILTING and TRANQUILITY a SPLENDOR to be heard
Thrusting quickly overhead a bluebird cries with DULCET words
Further down the garden path the FRAGRANT LAVENDER came WAFTING past  
The rhythmic swaying to the grass gave way to summer at last  




 Inspired by Andrea Dietrich’s “Word warrior challenge: beautiful words”


Details | Couplet | |

A Different Verse

A different time, a different place
A different life and different face

Different wants and different needs
Different values and different creeds

Different Pomp and Circumstance
Different songs and different dance

Different likes and different hate
Different foods on different plate

A different boat on a different sea
A different you and a different me


Details | Couplet | |

Massacre at Glencoe

The snow rests red and heavy
through the valley and the glen,

with MacDonald honor lingering on
in spite of Campbell sin.

Give us crimson wool
to weave a plaiden memory

of the massacre at Glencoe
and deeds of treachery.

Let the stigma of a traitor
forever mark their name

as long as Scotland bears the scar
so recalled shall be their shame.


Details | Couplet | |

Egyptian Thoughts

I sometimes think of traveling to a mysterious distant land
To Cairo and the River Nile and walk on Egyptian sand
The Ismalia Folklore Festival brings together many nations
In the land so aptly called The Land of Civilizations
I ask for Wadjet to protect me as I see all that I can
At night, Nut puts on a show that could not be produced by man
I see the children playing with hearts so full of love
Thanking Hathor for the blessings that were sent from far above
Osiris please stay away as I'm not ready yet
I need to change my life as I too long have followed Set
Egyptian thoughts come and that's when this old sailor cries
As I remember a beautiful woman with dark Egyptian eyes
I pray to Anuket to once again see the River Nile
And to Isis that she would return the magic for a while
The mystery and the culture are only part of what you'll find
I smile to myself as Egyptian thoughts cross my mind.


Details | Couplet | |

Machu Pichu

A staff is more than handhold, its worn
to the grasp, trust in what fell down from above.

The llama's sure foothold fits like our staffs
in the rocks climbing upward to the top to the sky.

We risk the blaze of sun, for the wide wings of condor
soaring, spiraling, hunting for a meal, never assured

except for his hold on the sky, flight, supreme
over the rocks and tumbles and worn out straw

of season of cold passing into days of warmth.
The spindle clatter, the roil and curve of weft needle

a prayer to on high, like the spirals of rock to the sky
the sun speaking to us at feet, these are complete

to the rest and remain of our escape to safety
in the cradle of our summer retreat, waiting for stars

to fall among us, waiting for stars to carry us away
from homes built within a circle of spires, three spires

to bring the ley lines of power into our grasp, to offer
escape from the dust and dung we live in, amazed.


Details | Couplet | |

Malvan Beach imagery deciphered

3rd march2012, by: Sashi Prabhu (zeauoxian)
Form: rhyming couplets

Sandy tracks, still and dormant, lie await for us,
Virgin sands of Malvan beach, its breeze my body salty caress.

Through the grooves of coconut palms swaying tall,
We trudge to the sandy shores backpack and all.

Green thatched leaves. Crowns of glory, shade it extorts,
Swinging hammock  to nest me in my denim blues shorts.

A strong breeze blows saline pelagic scented odor across,
Blue waves melt to foam, kiss shores, hued shells emboss.

Lonely eagle soar virgin blue skies,
More of the brood join in and glide past fishing boats floating by.

A murder of crows feast on our eaten table,
As in the warm waters we dip, the crows our food they garble.

The waves sound gushing rhapsody repeat,
Us jovious beach bums in water enjoy the sunny heat.

Dry fishing boats on logs they are on the sands to park,
 Lie along akin, like silent serpents, waiting   for dusk to embark.

Sea gulls they glide over silver wavy waters,
Food seeking dives perform, for them that’s what matters.

A pack of dogs they frolic with glee,
As the fisher folk heave coir ropes dogs from there flee.

Golden sunlight darts out of stagnant clouds formless,
Group of lads, beach volley ball they play tireless

As I sit ten meters away from wet sandy shores,
Melody erupts as waves repeat encore.




 




Details | Couplet | |

Bon Jour

An eighteen year old sailor on the Riviera in the Spring
Mademoiselle Your smile can make my young heart sing
Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo who could ask for more
I volunteered for the USO, so on duty days I could be ashore
I held her hand and said bon jour, i danced with her that day
Looking into her eyes, Aime-moi, s'il vous plait
Stopping by a sidewalk cafe, we had a glass of Beaujolais
Then I walked her home and promised to meet another day
Two days later I returned but she was nowhere to be found
I saw her one more time before my feet left solid ground
It was a one time memory, a love not meant to be
She returned to college and I returned to the sea
I still have those memories and the wonders that we saw
But to cry, i'l n'est pas necssaire pour cela.
I think back sometimes and it cuts me like a knife
France will always be a special part of my life.


Details | Couplet | |

The Norwegian Lady

Since the 19th century, she stands looking out to sea
A guardian of the sailor, a survivor of tragedy
The Captain lost his pregnant wife and son and five members of his crew
Now she waits just like her sister when a sailor's return is overdue
Her sister stands in Moss since nineteen sixty two
They stand  and face each other across the ocean blue
The Dictator, a Norwegian vessel, aground she did run
Nine people died off the shore in eighteen ninety one
The Captain returned to Norway when his healing was done
In Elmwood cemetery he sadly left his wife and son
On thirty seventh street in Virginia Beach the Norwegian Lady Stands
A monument to all who sail and walk on foreign sands
 


Details | Couplet | |

Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.


Details | Couplet | |

A Horse Of Course

<                                        Horses and snowflakes
                                   Illuminating to it's tongue's pallet's plate


                                              Open carriage rides
                                         Falling flakes in the eyes


                                             City strewn lights
                                  Hoof's echoing through out the night


                                             Fleece blankets
                                              Cider drank it


                                              Horns blare
                                              People's stare

                                             
                                        New York's Central Park
                                       An home for many after dark


                                         Four miles of bridal paths
                                    Drawn coaches to bring you back


                                          So horses and snowflakes
                                      Fills this ones poet's pallet's plate



Written By Katherine Stella
My Theme Was Both 
Horses And Snowflakes
This Is An Entry
For Constance ~A Rambling Poet 's ~ Contest
G.L. All
                                     

                                     
                                            
                             


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Hugs That We Once Shared

Hugs that we once shared, lasted just a glimpse in time
If only I could read her mind, and imagine what I'd find

Would I find a woman of truth, or a woman of trust
Or a woman with a mind, whose mind has turned to rust

To drift into another's world, and promise them the earth
Hugs that we once shared, does it really make them worth

They only lasted a glimpse of time, happened they never should
If I could turn back time, your damn right I would


*~*





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-16.php


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Her Dusk

Viewing this vista of extraordinary scene Scenic she's creative in historic darkened means Meaningful silhouettes, black squared, dark undulations Undulated to her visitors, their close clanned relations Relative they may be, but so different in their norm Normally they would be, differential in their clans Clannish their panorama, now dusk before their dawn Dawn is when there's life, a new day has spawned Spawning oranges and reds, the dusk now bows to the suns wooing Wooing this extraordinary scene, now my eyes are viewing <> Not for Nette's contest, I just loved the image, and it's theme <>


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TIDES OF TIDINESS

TIDES   OF   TIDINESS   

If  I was God,  the geographic world I would bless:
I’d start by tidying  up my world map for it’s a mess.
First let’s examine the ideal  -  man-made edges can’t be beat.
Look at places like the USA -Canada boundaries  - wow they’re  neat. 
Saskatchewan  and the Four Corners  -  geometric perfection.
Australia’s states  too,  and Africa, especially the northern  section.

It’s the  instinct of all poetic  geography teachers
To want to tidy up  the world map’s ragged features.
The  British Columbia coast needs sweeping with a  big brush and 
All those islands pushed till they’re joined to the mainland.
Same goes for the chilly south coast of Chile:
So many islands and peninsulas  -  it’s just silly. 
And also the fjorded Atlantic coast of Norway:   
Smooth?  Neat?   Geometric?   No way!
The Canadian archipelago too might as well be joined up together
Cos it’s one frozen mass all the time in wintry weather.

Of those messy lakes of Canada and Finland we have no need:   
With God’s giant blotting paper  I’d make them recede.
And  don’t get me started about the crazy course of a river.. . . 
Pure logic and efficiency I can deliver:
The Amazon rises only 60 miles from Peru’s Pacific coast  
But clearly it felt the need to have something to boast.
It should have gone west instead of 4000 miles east  to the Atlantic
A wasted effort,  silly choice  -  it ended up being absurdly gigantic.

And I have bigger complaints, such as South America 
Being fitted back where it belongs into the coast of Africa;
And the Red Sea’s coasts, moved apart like edges of torn paper all raggedy:
Dunno whose idea that was,  but it ain’t foolin nobody.
Obviously they should be stuck back together jigsaw fashion
To satisfy my  geographical  neatness passion.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
 
*This is the latest in my series of  Nutty Geographical Poems.  
Take a glance at your bedside atlas to see the places mentioned.


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Indigenous I Am, from the Stolen Generations

This is a journey, a trip call it what you will It follows the footsteps of my ancestors, and allows my thoughts too spill Firstly let me take you back, to tell you so little of my past Indigenous I am, from the "Stolen Generations" I did not last This is why I must make this journey, to allow me to find the real me To retrace the few steps I made, to rediscover what my young eyes seen How ironic that the person I'll ride with, is the son of the then official Whose deliberation to round up us children, the scene, locale It's now the morn of our travel, where I look I find hard to see The peripheral of the distant horizon, is all that really captures me The town where I grew up so young, barely to the age of five Perth, now bustles like a termites nest, zig zagging in busily strive Into the bush we go, to a place where us youngsters so enjoyed Moore River Native Settlement, which soon became children void As I walk my arid lands, patterned in the heat of this day I recall with every step, where us Indigenous children played We could survive on the smallest of fruit, water we could easily find Even the son of the then official, said that we are a superior kind He marvelled when I spotted tracks, traces of where animals crossed Remembering back to when I was five years old, our lands always talked We opened up as we led our horses, introduced all those centuries ago They opened up my lands, rivers we walked, now the white man flows This is a journey I had to make, it's called, it's in my will No more "Stolen Generations" no more will my culture spill


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Sexy Kiss

We share a look from across the room and I saunter into your arms,
No matter how hard I try to defy, I can never resist your charms;

You slip a hand behind my head and drag me into your kiss,
You tantalize my senses as I lose myself to bliss;

Desire takes over my body as you take my breath away,
We stand in utter silence, we’ve nothing left to say;

There is an overpowering smell of whiskey and cheap perfume,
But locked in a passionate kiss, we’re alone in the crowded room;

Your kisses taste so potent, I savor the exotic flavor of you,
Your intoxicating to my senses, like the sweetest morning dew;

Wrapped in a fervent embrace, our bodies meld to form one;
I lose myself to you and it’s only just begun...


Details | Couplet | |

BLUE MOUNDS

THE BLUE MOUNDS*

It started when she sat there
At the age of five or six
Wandered off in chase
Of bugs who watched her from gray sticks--

Felt a thrumming in her veins
That set her hair on fire
stronger than the booming
She imagined in god choir

Suddenly aware of space
But not of time passed by
Looked up to blue rock haze
Against a thunder sky

And distant on the blue rock
Bison herd was racing west
Dust-framed in a golden haze
She grabbed her hammered chest




*Blue Mounds--now part of a park in SW Minnesota
Lakota Sioux burial grounds, sacred site--a herd of bison roam here




Details | Couplet | |

Images of She

Everyday I view images, of a creature beautifully be
Through my eyes I see a maiden, such beauty in she thralls thee

It does not matter what she wears, or the way it's worn
She would look beautiful wearing rags, shredded ripped or torn

To her locks I mention, draped against porcelain skin
Like a magnetic I'm now drawn, her beauty draws me in

Next I value her loves, such intelligence abounds her soul
History, the arts and music, knowledge has been her goal

Everyday I view images, of a creature beautifully be
I can only feel so honoured, that she's fallen in love with me


*~*






http://www.lorenatorrescaceres.com/lorena-5.php


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HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS



heirloom roots dart unto tropical spaces seven thousand islands stitched by dainty laces where ripples of meadows form formless there, lovely women gather milkfish with kindness of gumamela leaves sun-kissed, peach-dressed. On tinted valleys, a gathering of eagles astonished; forests of green brush coconut - combed tresses and temperate sky curls into sunset wishes while crickets are led to peaks of tobacco embers. Billowing grass huts cling to the clang of village pails as serenades of tanned guitars speak of folk tales, till rustic gaiety shifts rice grains open to gliding unto coastlines made of Asian waves rambling. A paradise on miles and miles of Pacific heredity her limbs swaying into pearl necklaces so daintily, such movement my lips burst of hibiscus seeds a grandeur spread on a carpet of ancestral beads. This is my morning and night broth, my daily gland miles of guava trees dwelling…my birth mark, homeland. © *gumamela—a hibiscus plant found in Asia * my country is the Philippines SKAT's MY LAND IS MY HOME contest by nette onclaud


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Coco For Ten

<                               Coco was his name
                                 Spider monkey all the same

                                Dad worked for zoo
                                Feeder of Coco too


                               Brought the little guy home
                               Boy did Coco love to rome


                               Droppings here and there
                               Mom  covered up his dairy - air

   
                               Shoulders he did seek
                               Knocking  younger ones off their feet


                                Bananas and salted nuts
                                Made Coco dance and strut

                               
                               Each day a animal of new
                               Dad brought home from the zoo

             
                               But the one I'll remember the most
                               Was coco who shared my daily toast





Tribute To 
Como Park Zoo
St Paul Minnesota

Coco And Daddy




Can You Imagine
A Monkey Playing
With 10 Kids  LOL

                                 


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This Righteous Reign

There is a place where deserts bloom and loving is the law
Where miracles are commonplace and sorrows come to fall

When desires flower amidst the fields of singing lily throngs
And sin, with its razors edge, is a foregone ancient song

It is a place by streams of life, where marigolds do thrive
Where misty aqua canopies supply pleasures to our lives

Then luscious verve and greenery on mountaintops do grow
And pleasures we past put aside, no longer do forgo

Here, patchwork friendships sawn asunder are seamlessly re-sewn
And trees of men and sapling sons for times long lost atone

Oh, how I long for these dear times when nations breathe as one
When frozen tongues of languages have melted in the Son

No pain, no sickness, no sullen thoughts - no lurking death to fear
To see the work of one’s own hands, for all eternity to cheer

This passionate air, this prospect true, this paradise re-claim
Oh, how I strive to walk the path to see this righteous reign


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The Ride of my Life

How many of us, go down in history Well she went down on me, just you wait and read It happened ten tears ago, boy was it out of this world The moment she took me in, boy her kisses swirled We were so suited, atmospheric was our attraction Bare to naked I was, receiving her reaction Cheeky was this first Lieutenant, her hands everywhere I succumbed to her intentions, near explosive was my stare It's only when I looked down, two eyes espied in pout Pleasured by her wanting, me I'm inside out I found myself amidst, convulsions so far from home Lost in pleasured dome, ring a ring a rosy roamed Taken, spent I am, we rejoiced in our elation History has been made, communication on the Space Station .


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True Colours We Are All

What ever flicked the switch, to decide from their within To deem another not worthy by the colour of their skin We, upon this wonderful planet, we're each and all the same Nature decreed our colours, born we are of different acclaim No matter from where we come from, no matter to where we go We all sail the rivers of life, and our many colours should flow The next time you walk your streets, in cities and your towns When the sun shines upon us, we're neither white nor brown For although she shines on us, to her we're all the same We are shadows, we are no different, so why do others claim


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Dirty Dan

<                             Driving along in my automobile
                               Seen homeless man holding sign will work for his meals

                               Should I stop or should I just Go !
                               Should I give Or Should I just say hell No !

                              But what if that was me
                              Crying out with such pitty

                              Not knowing where to get next meal
                              Three kids crying at worn out heels

                             Cardboard boxes to call our home
                             Dumpster diving for pieces of foam

                             Think I'll give him a piece of my pot
                             Opened wallet and gave him alot

                             A nice twenty came on out
                             Wiped out was his sadden pout

                              
                             Drove by an hour later
                             Homeless camp wiped off roadmarks slatter

                             
                             Wonder where dirty Dan had now roamed
                              Just hope he finds a better suitable home


Details | Couplet | |

The Pub

Weak audible creaks from a faded pub sign
Preludes a visual crash, combed by critical eyes
Though the structure was sound
The worn brackets were faint
Flaking words curled and dropped
With the tired peeling paint. 


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THE LONELY BARN ON GREENPOINT ROAD

A run-down barn nestled among low and gentle hills,

it adds natural charm to a breathtaking landscape.


On sunny mornings, it adorns itself with sunrays,

making the screeching ravens flee to a shady spot.


Its paint is peeling off due to an abandoned state,

it once echoed with the constant moos of cattle.


It can almost hear the tractors heading for the harvest,

emitting fumes to disperse the wildflowers' strong aroma.


Mockingbirds are too annoyed to welcome another crisp morning

with their thrilling notes that can make the radiant air so festive.     


Cowboys riding on fast horses gave life to these fileds, once tallgrass prairies...

even they have left these lands where buffalos, elks and coyotes freely roamed.  


Driving back home, dusk changes the color of fields, clouds, hills and sky...

shadows invade the lonely barn on Greenpoint Road followed by many stars.   







Details | Couplet | |

Believe In Your Star

Live…Breathe…Believe in your star…
It is with you wherever you are,
It never leaves you for a moment,
The saint light is in its current.

In storms it helps to reach the land,
Its warmth it gives to you my friend,
It cherish you and gives you strength,
It leads you through the whole life length.

It lights up your soul when it pains,
It brightens up your days when it rains.
It gives the warmth to your heart,
It shows you the right way to start.

Until the last breath it will shine,
That magic star of yours and mine.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)


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Smile Your On Candid Camera

<                                         sphinx ~ head
                                             who ~ said

                                           roman ~ God
                                           without ~ bod


                                           shadow ~ illusion
                                           causing ~ confussion


                                           butte ~ mesa
                                           I ~ guess ~ a

                             
                                           transition ~ zone
                                           with-out   ~ phone

                      
                                            oh ~ my   ~    cydonia
                                            don't ~ all ~ just ~ wanna ~ ya



Entry For
Carolyn Devonshire's
Sphinx Head On Mars Contest
G.L. All


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What Lurks Within

Past lurks in picture, this I know,
A presence from the long ago.
Her life was hard and mean and cruel.
She cleaned without a modern tool.
Here she was shunned, demeaned, bereft.
Past would not follow when she left,
And so it lurks, just out of range,
Hoping somehow  a past can change.
Glad to have left her past behind,
She has moved on, new life to find.
She prays wayfarers will beware
Of past that proved to be a snare,
And run from horror in that room
Or it could be a burial tomb.


Details | Couplet | |

AC in Arizona

Lord only knows how the settlers survived
When in Arizona's desert they arrived

I visited there in late November
And the piercing heat I still remember

Air conditioning's great invention
Brought to this state renewed attention

The population grew by leaps and bounds
Many homes were built on the sandy mounds

"There's no humidity," some still will say
Yet none survive without AC each day



(AC stands for air conditioning)


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The Caravan that Rocked

Now this is a little story of the caravan that rocked
Whether parked in roadside lay-bys, the locals were never shocked

They travelled from the Highlands and motored so far and wide
Exercising their freedom, oh my! that you couldn't hide

They lived just south of Ullapool, and further north than Perth
But no matter where they parked, they always made it worth

Now this couple they liked to journey, to places so far from home
To York, Scarborough and Edinburgh, so capital in their roam

Where ever they went they took in the sights, so beautiful they grace
But every so often their caravan rocked, but never in a windy place

Their holiday nearly over, it's time to head back up the road
Passing places where their caravan rocked, their travelling home abode

They pass such lovely places, like Stirling and Callender
Stopping of at Granton On Spey, their holidays take them afar

Now very close to home, boo! it's work in a couple of days
But they don't mind, for their caravan rocked, without a wind to sway







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php


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My Ode to the Netherlands

Oh lovely Netherlands, you are now my second home.
You leave me thrilled and enchanted where ever I roam.

I smiled when floating down streets made from the sea,
Touring on charming glass covered canal boats with glee.

There’s beauty in the coolness of a windswept day,
As I rode the wind on my bicycle and joyously flew away.

Then I set out to visit famous paintings I was shown.
Each lovely museum has a quaint charm all its own.

One famous museum displayed art of Vincent van Gogh.
It has a cool theatre inside, most tourists don’t know.

I just had to visit Den Haag’s St. Mauritius to view
Vermeer’s “Girl with a pearl earring” and other art too.

I toured through Madame Tussaud’s Wax museum happily. 
Johnny Depp and George Clooney were there waiting for me!

Oh lovely gardens of Keukenhof, my time’s worth BEST spent.
I’ll never forget your bright tulip hues with their heavenly scent.

Hartelijk bedankt oh lovely Netherlands, land of the free. 
Alstublieft, alstublieft I beseech you, don’t forget me.

April 22, 2014

*Hartelijk bedankt - heartfelt thanks
*Alstublieft – please


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I Woke up in a Dream

I woke up in a dream on a coast I've never seen But somehow in a way, I knew I'd be here one day I'm detecting a touch of Spanish, language it is not All I see is leaving Galleon's, raped, now forgot I'm seeing centuries before me, colonial now so free The Japanese like them before, ravaging in spree On a beach I walk to the light, attracting I to enter I'm there, as I walk through, my viewing now centred Into this lush land I walk, not knowing where I'll be There's something that desires, I'll know when I see Walking, walking, walking, it's all I appear to do Clearer my mind becomes, I know I'm walking to you Further my weakened feet, stride through their weak I know at the end of my journey, I'll meet whom I seek A village, a town nears, as I look back to whence I came Awakening in this dream, praying this person feels the same .


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SIMILARITIES BETWEEN TWO PLANETS

The clear pictures, taken by the satellite orbiting around Mars
for over a decade, have finally arrived here and fascinated us.


The Sphinx head in Egypt and the one on Mars have many veritable similarities...
wouldn't you agree? But who built the one the Red Planet:  the extraterrestrials?

Leave that to the imagination, or try to solve the mystery of the ancients;
now, don't assume that life will be found there despite those striking images. 


Although scientists speculate that Mars has water, only facts are a true possibility;
no assumption can come close to such a reality, if it hasn't been explored entirely.


Until NASA builds another spaceship and sends more brave astronauts into space,
we must hold our breath,...'till they return with proof of another extraordinary race.


Details | Couplet | |

Cardboard Inflation

A paper road and car of clay,
A garden made from pencil shaves;
With fields of crayon flowers drawn,
Beyond the shoebox house and lawn;
Old wax paper forms the boat,
That sails under a cardboard moat;
A fence made out of new toothpicks,
Erasers used as driveway brick.
A crafty home in taped décor,
Now sat atop my basement floor;
A dynasty of paper trails,
Completed with a sign, “For Sale”,
Was printed in the Classifieds,
To see who’d purchase such a buy;
One hundred callers did implore --
The only place they could afford.


Details | Couplet | |

On Brighton Beach

Tents of various colours in parade across the sands
It's summer time in Brighton as the sun beams down so grand

Families too many to mention, on blanketed abound
Whilst laughter resonates from the children all around

Even nature has her say as the waves caress the shore
Just like yesterday, and so many years before

Gliding terns and seagulls grace the thermal flow
As they anticipate the pickings that present them down below

Rock pools gather attraction, a learning call for the young
Explained by thoughtful parents, of how we all began

Sails of shapes and sizes appear against the blues
Boats and ships aplenty in sailing tacking cruise

My day now nears it's end, on this wonderful Brighton Beach
So many joys surround me, I'm so thankful their in my reach


Details | Couplet | |

Super Victimized

Expecting 2 get something special
U end up getting part of the 'all'
So 2 compensate 4 the loss
I remain on the path 4 gloss!


Details | Couplet | |

Southern Exposure

Y'all c'mon down 
any ole' time, 
we'll be awaitin' 
with watermelon wine. 

Y'all are welcome 
to come define 
our red-neckedness 
among the graceful pine. 

We'll say, "Hey Y'all," 
and be inclined 
by our southern-ness 
to rip it up, divine. 

So bring it on, 
you raw moonshine, 
let yourself be red 
in the southern design. 

There's nothin' like 
fresh off the vine 
for a sweeter night, 
so poised and unrefined. 

Y'all c'mon down, 
form a headline, 
make newsworthy noise, 
along the coastal line. 

We're awaitin' 
the joyous sign 
you ain't forgotten 
our infamous dateline. 

We are still here, 
a fresh resign 
of America's 
disheartened central spine. 

Y'all c'mon down 
any ole' time, 
we'll be awaitin' 
with watermelon wine. 

Y'all are welcome 
to come define 
our red-neckedness 
among the graceful pine. 


Details | Couplet | |

Looking at the Moon

Alba, remember, but will you remember me
Be where I can see you, but me you will not see

For I have been finally, driven underground
Returned to where I came, to die without a sound

And all because one day, in the month of February
An Aura appeared to me, my eyes caressed to see

Amidst these living days in absorbency two became
No culture, just our pasts, no one was too blame

In our living lives we choked, in throw ejected we
Poisoned absorbency bled, as we look around and see

In decision midst we're lost, to be answered soon
Alba, remember, but will you remember us



Looking at the moon?



" Many thanks Mr Tony Carey for the inspiration through your track title "







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-16.php


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The finest place

The finest place to stop 
is on the very top.

Volodymyr Knyr
2014


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Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Darts

Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now

Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four

The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend

The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck

I lose the match; the wife won’t give me a kiss 
I wish I could have been anything else than this... 


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Peter Pan Envy

Peter Pan Envy 

I envy Peter Pan
He never get’s old as a man

He can fly back and forth to never-never land
To his lost boys a merry band

If I had Tinkerbelle’s fairy dust and could fly
I would go up and up into the sky

I would fly up to my wife who’s in heaven
And take her back to nineteen fifty-seven 

The fifties were a great time in life
It was when I met my future wife  


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Speed

A ticket from the police is what I don't need.
Driving through this town, I'm watching my speed.


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Tactless Travel

Let’s travel to the edge of the earth

With sunshine in our veins

Let’s see how much this life is worth

As we leave out all our pains

 

We’ll go for miles, and we won’t stop

The sun will soon attack

Our lives we’ll trade, our hearts we’ll swap

We’re never coming back

 

A whole new start, a second chance

Floats softly into June

We’ll wade our time in cheap romance

As we howl at a transient moon

 

An ice cold flood of independence

Forms our own wicked sense of style

Our world needs more transcendence

This world just needs to smile

 

The ringing in our ears is no longer just a sound

The image of freedom is no longer just a dream

Because this limitless world is just a playground

Or so it may seem


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In Search Of Jacob

<          riding home with brother and friend from convenience store
            this masked man got out of his trucks door

            asked each boy what was their ages
            made them place bikes in ditch or face guns gauges

            Jacob was the oldest of the three
            just 11 good gracious golly

           St Joseph Minnesota close to St Cloud
           days weeks month lined with flowering shrouds

           his mother and father got congress to sign an act
           for crimes against children and sexually violence attacks


           now there is a bridge of hope
           called Jacob Wetterling foundation so families can cope


           our little lost sheep
           we still to continue to shed tears and weep


           for there is still an unmarked date
           where death has not been filled in on your headstones slate






Taken Oct 22 1989 From St Joseph Minnesota


In Search Of Jacob Wetterling still goes on

You Are Not Forgotten 





                       

           
                    
                       


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Beyond the Pleasant Hill

Was just a walk beyond the road -- a shortcut past the bog,
No different than the night before but this night there was fog.
I climbed the pleasant hill from which the ‘yard had got it’s name,
So cold and dark it was that night, a dim light I did flame.
Blackest of the blackest eve’s I thought I might go blind,
So quickly paced, I past the stone’s of relatives that died.
Just past the breeze that got the willow shaking in the night
I saw someone just standing where my path comes into sight --

I wondered why tonight they’d chosen 
To walk the same path I was roamin’
A closer look, not man nor woman…
So still -- as if their form was frozen…
 
“They must be lost“, I thought out loud, no light to find the path,  
So maybe they’re just standing there awaiting someone’s laugh.
Or maybe they are frozen stiff by seeing my form too --
I couldn’t move though,  be it  just another passing through
My flashlight though, so dim, was shining on them, so it seemed…
…No looking up, no squinting eyes or arms to hide the beam,
How could they not have noticed me, the light is right upon them?
And just as I brought down my hand to light the way  so trodden…

I heard them move in front of me
That form that stood beside the tree
A quick response I shone the light
Back at the path ahead in fright
No person was still standing there…
Just Trees, beyond the path I dared --

I stood there for eternity a-gasp and scared to death,
Staring hard upon that spot where someone drew their breath.
They’re somewhere past the beam of light that’s dimming by the second --
The eerie melody from lonely crickets only beckoned.
A sudden crackle at my feet as if one stopped behind,
I felt my heart beat through my chest, I thought I’d lost my mind.
I thought I felt a windy chill then whisper past my ear,
But turned to shine my light upon no stranger standing near.

That instant -- I had dropped my bag and ran towards the gate,
I swore I heard them running too I had no time to waste.
So as I reached the entrance, looking back I think I said, 

“If you’re still there, I’ve changed my mind, I’ll take the street instead.”


Details | Couplet | |

NYC lights at night contest

                            New York City at night,
                Is like an upscale carnival filled with lights,
                 Message boards and fancy advertisements,
                  Keeps one’s eyes in perpetual excitement,
                 Call a taxi, you’ll go exceptionally fast,
              Like the gravitron that’s spin makes you gasp,
                            Walk a mile or two,
           And the volume of brightness will illuminate your view,
              On some blocks you feel like you’re in outer space,
         Bridges are the stars, that from a distance, stunt your pace,
                  The buildings begin to possess Saturn’s rings,
          Streets look like the universe drenched in colorful strings,
                              New York City at night,
                  A giant meteor shower of visual delight.


By: Sabina Nicole
Written: 1-14-12
Contest: Lights at Night in a City


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Birds In Flight

<                                    birds in perilous flight

                            illuminating to this watchful eye's sight


                                          
                               outstretched wings ~ soaring high

                                bidding  ado ~ waving goodbye 




                                      homebound is their quest

                           offsprings await  safe return ~ back in nest



                                            red sky ~ tonight

                                    glad ~ I've captured this flight



                                      oh fly ~ my feather friends

                                    hope to see you  ~  once again


                                        

                                     for this love ~ so brand new
  
                                        what's drawn ~ me to you








Entry For
Carolyn Devonshire's
Heaven Sent Smiles Contest
G.L. All

                                   


                                  
                                     

                                


                              



                                    



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Polar Bears And The Penguins

Some times they say the great and mighty do fall…
And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all.
Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength.
But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think.

The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks.
So you’ll never guess what those cute little penguins did.
Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice.
They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice.

The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill.
But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill.
So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day… 
That the polar bears didn’t notice the ice caught in the currents sway.

The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight.
And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night.
You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day.
For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away.

Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand.
Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan…
And, never turn your back on a penguin I say.
They’re the reason there’s no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day.

Tell Me A Story Contest


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Edit and Waste

Crop, copy and paste.
These are the days of edit and waste.

Digital pictures matching our taste.
Everyone fuzzy in dot-matrix.

Saved as a file in some special place.
Not just a folder, a name with no face.

Shared with our friends all over the net.
Nobody wiser to that they've not met.

Clicked on again to remember the time.
Scrolled by a mouse; through thumbs in a line.

Dragged in and dropped to folders where bound.
Making them searches of files to be found.

Beautiful pictures fill up my screen.
Some of them larger than what I have seen.


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WRITE ME BACK HOME

 Write me a way out of sadness and pain
Make it a whimsical , happy refrain.
Pen my way down to the old berry patch
Where we built a house of palmetto thatch
Write  me a path back to childhood's domain
High on a ditch bank at play in the rain.

   A Florida trail that you pencil in gray
Made of oyster shells out of the bay.
Lay out the map made of words that unwind
To take us to someplace that waits in the mind.
An inroad to knowing what means more than gold
A pathway to healing the heart and the soul. 
 
  So much time has come and gone
And now I'm left all alone
I think of Florida and I smile
So, please write me home, just for awhile


Written with my niece, Johnette Loefgren


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a guiding light

As I sit there looking out to sea,
Reflects a picture of a different time.
Its white washed walls set against the granite rock,
As the sea pounds it, with waves of brine.
A bridle path runs along the cliff,
Worn down, by previous generations past.
Now given way to the bracken, and the wild tuffs of grass,
Walking westward the little path, towards the lighthouse winds.
As dusk moves in with the setting sun, 
Its light now begins to shine.
A stark warning to all mariners, as they sail on around the coast,
Now completely automated, except for the keeper’s ghost.


Details | Couplet | |

JAIL BIRD

            JAIL BIRD

To U.S. born both wild and free
There is no worse place one could be
Than in a prison cell for years
For most men ‘tis a gruesome fear

But to souls in other lands
Where freedom’sjust a word that stands
On paper-- but an object dead--
With it you cannot bake your bread.

In movies in these lands they watch
Thugs whose pants fall off their crotch.
Who off to court they go-- then jail--
No mention made of tears or bail

Third Worlds watch the U.S. cells
That should resemble Dante’s hell.
Instead they look so germ free clean
Like the quarters of a Queen

Luxury in killer's cell?
How can thieves live-- oh so --well
U.S. jail is no bad life--
Well, you might miss someone's wife

As one boss of one small store
Told me-- as he scrubbed his floor:
“Me, I'll fly to U.S. land
Kill some guy and live so grand."

His tune said joke-- but it was not--
(U.S. TV makes brains rot)

But-- twas no secret-- truth could tell
He'd snuggle in Obama's cell.








Victoria Anderson-Throop ©               December 1, 2012


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300 Lakes

Over 300 puddles of Sudbury lakes

once scraped by a glacier in hundreds of shapes.

Now filled with fresh water for everyones taste

like playing or boating wherever they're placed.

Some fish them or ski them in winter or summer.

Ski Doo them; Sea Doo them and bring them in Hummers.

There's swimmers and soakers with masks and with fins

to snorklers and divers with tanks and black skins.

With sunshine for tanners at rest on the shores

to moonlight and coolers; our social outdoors.

So don't ask your friends who they're coming to see.

when Living With Lakes means sharing is free.


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Into the Darkness, But I Emerged

I wish I was asked this question when I was five years old
For it's a question I would have answered as my words unfold

This never happened yesterday, it was way back, 1966
What made our neighbour decide, to ignite his floorboards sticks

Our whole house woke in panic, smoke billowed everywhere
Into the darkness we stared, at five years old and scared

Thoughts running through my head, confused in a darkening world
Then suddenly I could see, my vision became un-blurred

What I took I couldn't grab, for it was already a part of me
For I, I took myself, and thanked my eyes to see

But going back to the original question, just what would I grab
It would have been an image of my brother, he was seven, and he was fab


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Wrong Road Taken

On a darkened road, in the dead of night,
A wrong road taken, now a sorry plight.
No more gas, and so turned around.
Forest and fog on a moonless night abound.
Frightening sounds from within the woods
God protect me, I beg, as I close the hood.
There’s a light off yonder, twinkling thru the trees.
But I truly fear what there, waits for me.
I see a man with a gun stalking thru the trees.
With a bobbing lantern, he has seen me.
Good or evil… this is quite a test.
I jump inside. Locking the doors fearing death.
I see he’s old and withered as his eyes meet mine.
And he laughs eerily as he sets the gun against a tree to recline.
Can’t be too careful in these old hills, he explains, as he gives his name.
Taking a wrong turn out here can be a dangerous game.
Strangers are rarely welcomed, as some are up to no good.
Now, lets see you’re gas level, then what’s happening under the hood.
Sure enough I’d run out of gas, so he gave me a few gallons to last.
With written instructions to the closest station for gas…
He said he’d call the owner so someone would be there waiting.
A harrowing night ended rather well…with a thank you and a blessing.
It could have been worse… I could have been dead.
Now I’m just grateful… It was he who was there, as my light up ahead.

CSEastman


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My Pal Joey

<                                         my pal Joe
                                    well don't you just know


                                     his illuminating writes
                              will drawn you to his pages site


                    epulaeryu ~ burlesque ~ didactics ~ or sonnets
                      you'll wanna wear a nice and sunny bonnet


                                          land sea or air
                            let your imagination take you there

                            

                                     inspiration bounded for your soul
                                       my pal Joe surely does know


                                  glad he's just a phone call away
                                 to lift my spirits in so many ways


                                    and if you want succulant mango
                                first you'll have to dance to the tango


                                        So please stop on by 
                          to give my pal Joseph Spence's poetry a try





Entry For
Adaleke Adeite's
Praise Your Poetry Pal Contest
GL All


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A SIMPLE DAY IN AFRICA

                                     

                                        A SIMPLE DAY IN AFRICA

                                            Blame the white
                                       For the books in school
                                             Blame the white
                                       For the traffic rules
                                             Blame the white
                                     For Round house now square
                                             Blame yourself
                                            for a land unfair


                                             White men left
                                    They have packed and gone
                                             White men left
                                    Now tribes on their own
                                             White men left
                                      Now its knives not guns

                                            Now the hate
                                   spreads with springtime sun
                                            tribal wars
                                        shake the dusty skies
                                            tribal hate
                                       glares in every eye
                                           baby schools
                                       gather tribe by tribe
                                       
                                            break the rules
                                          and you’re vilified








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The Iowan Walk

"In a land full of corn, you've got to just laugh a little."

The gravel flies out from beneath,
The hicks smile with half their teeth.
The corn grows,
The horses have shows.
Flat paths and lanes lead,
All starting with the soil for the seed.

As country plays on the station,
Under God is our Nation,
Playing close with friendly people,
BINGO tonight or riding the bull.
Views on the Mississippi river,
During the winter we all start to shiver.
Living in a reality world,
The doors are slim but few are curled.

For it's Iowa the seasons come,
The bottles are opened with whisky and rum,
Talk is everywhere about our city,
here there are plenty deer to hit in  pity.

Tractors fly in style,
Come visit and you may stay awhile.
For there's casinos and bars to see,
A castle called Jumers; grab a key.
Viewing beauty from the peer,
The beauty found in every mirror.
The MidWest lives fine,
It opens up glory in one to shine.

The traffic flowss through each town,
On the way through going up and down.
The hills with cows astray,
The nights over; back to the day.
The city people leave for work,
Sending off messages as each is a perk,
Neves lending a need to be,
Opening new things to see.

For it's Iowa the grass grows green,
The people are friendly; not too mean.
The glory of the state is here,
The glory is very near.
Talk and walk the Iowan way,
Come visity and maybe you'll stay!


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Anarchy in the UK - re-Written

This once nation of peace and calm, lies close to chaos and anarchy
It's Government will be in struggle, imploding indefinitely

What gives a person the right to carry a gun on to our streets
When challenged by the police, they can't accept their greet

Knowing they are totally wrong, some can't even admit defeat
Community drums now sound, then the morons take to our streets

These little sheep from hours earlier, turn rabid in bravado show
Turning on who can not defend themselves, as their manic strife grows

Businesses that survived two wars, are engulfed in a matter of hours
It's time to pass new laws, enforce to the full their powers

How many of the arrested have jobs, mortgages and families to feed
Yet they plunder the lives of others, to fill their moronic greed

They even try to help the injured, then decide to rob him as well
Society once again turns violent, as the media show and tell

Days of rioting abound, whilst the moronic multitudes grow
Is Anarchy their cry, many couldn't spell it I'll let you know

In a few days it will be over, families and businesses torn
I wait in anticipation, for the next calm before the storm










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/political-and-society.php


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Home Upon a Shore

From the back of a cul-de-sac the world one knows goes round and round
Woodlands to the rear, afore the home unplanted ground

The living scent of ocean and suburban family sounds
Mild days upon the sand, fresh night seafood on the town

Neighbors but in name, more aptly titled ghosts
Each group upon its own deck isolated in its roast

Few times a year a trip into the city for sport or rarest art
Salted pretzels, honeyed nuts, or steaming dogs upon a cart

One day all torn asunder, a household bound in strife
Pictures last not till forever, at least not in modern life

A home, a family, one small tale carried on to future years
To leave it all behind, a day of hopefulness and tears


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Liberty is a Gift

Whether we are black, red white or brown
We are all born to wear freedoms crown

Liberty is gifted from mother to child
The freedom from birth as viewed from her smile

No one has the right to take either away
However its been done on any given day

Retribution is not, the answer for this
Its our civility laws, that return us to bliss

We enter this world free, with impending forks on our roads
What gives us the liberty to freedom unload

Whether we are black, red white or brown
Some of us will end up to be freedoms clowns


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Heaven Can Wait

<                                            left behind
           
                                              how divine


                                              his choosing

                                               my losing


                                            unfinished work

                                              must  assert

                                         
                                           I truly understand

                                         " God's"  choice in plan

         
                                     for " He " needs bigger wings

                                            to carry all my things

                                    
                                    and when those clouds spread eagle

                                      it will become finalized and legal


                                              my final destination

                                        will be "Heaven's" sensation


                                         and the reunion will be nil

                                     with family and friends lying still


                                       
                                               so for now I'll wait

                                       for my sweet "Lord" to set the date


                                              to return for only me

                                            in  clouds more of three




Entry For 
Catie Lindsey's 
Left Behind Contest
Gl All

                                         

                                


                                                 



                                            

                                            


                          

                                               

                                            



                                    


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Ram Shackled to Ruin

To my left it stands weathered by seasons of time Memories so many, absorbed in it's walls Even a fire could not deny us of it's history Ones thinks of the efforts to save this once fine structure Now ram shackled to ruin, it brings tears to ones eyes Built just before the Civil War, it hid many a lost soul Many a storm caressed her wooden frame Whilst sheltering beasts remained safe from nature's anger Summertime's were so joyous with barn dances Even weddings were celebrated within these walls Sadly economics became it's downfall My great grandfathers red barn, a shadow of it's former As you travel through the mid west There are many eyes like mine, viewing and sharing similar memories


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Alexandria, Egypt

I had a lekker time in Egypt
even though I didn’t visit a crypt

I drank, smoked, had fun with friends
later back on board someone stole my tens

still had fun on the last night there
and the cab ride was quite a scare

that was one of the ports I have seen
as a young sailor at age nineteen  


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When the Red Butterflies Fly

On a night in November with a full moon sky There is a graveyard in the Highlands where spirits fly Scriptures of old are chanted by the past As they rise through the earth as the red ones are cast Gravestones levitate with precision and ease As dark angels in black glide through the trees To a stone they surround as they circle above Slowly they transform into an ebony dark dove Upon this stone it perches as it awaits the await For when the red butterflies fly, the light they desecrate The sky turns from night into a reddy dawn As the moon hits their red their spirits now flown They land where they land, guided by the dark dove Their quest is to capture and lure life's love In the village near the graveyard on this November night A population in fear, in fright of their light Before the sun rises souls are drawn as if sprites No care for the living, their presence leaves blight A new day starts as if the previous night never happened For when the red butterflies fly, come this November night You may be summoned (!-V-!)


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When a Blind Man Cries

On a patrol for the good so far from their home Professional in their minds, never to roam But this is a world, where feelings are forgotten Damning souls of destruction fuelled with gun-cotton For on rocky outcrops and deserted sand paths Lie hidden dangers to take life from it's grasp Coalition troops, our children just boys Doing their duty for their orders employ On missions they set out to rid insurgent scum Against a tactic so great, guerrilla warfare hit and run Recent news has informed us, that another has been downed A father, uncle or son, leave another family tear drowned Another hidden device in his face has exploded Their hunger to hate once again has been loaded Medics rush in to save the life of their soul Knowing when he's home, another stat for wars toll Many weeks he recuperates, behind bandages and care Visited by friends, but only his children do stare His strength now regained, but not the man he once was A silence beckons then turns to applause Assisted by comrades as he is led to collect His medal of valour whilst inside he reflects In his future years knowing his children grow strong For he's in a dark world, where he doesn't belong Emotions so many will follow his years For when this blind man cries, we must share in his tears http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php


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SAVIOUR CHURCH, GRIBOYEDOVA CANAL, ST PETERSBURG

SAVIOUR CHURCH,  GRIBOYEDOVA  CANAL,  ST.  PETERSBURG

In defiance of its Soviet museum-death
Reflected in water moved by God’s breath
The five-domed Saviour church gives
Hope, for its bulbous gold dome yet lives


Silent spheres sing of new life glowing
With gold-edged scales reflecting, showing
In watery   swaying flashes
Like shoals of precious trembling fishes


Each scalloped wavelet free of bondage
A floating rocking hollow image
Each preserving part of dome
Like cell-life survivors, seeking home,

Always dividing, always  merging,
A breath behind them always urging
Each insubstantial golden sliver,
This restless gilt amoeba-river.

Passing boat’s wake - the song of  cupola,
The surface is alive from passing gondola
Shimmering millioned changing shapes
Countless gold-coin waterscapes

Myriad miracles – smithereens of gilt -
Tremulous treasure,  shining  spilt
Water calms from images manifold
To cells quiescent,  edged in gold.

They coalesce.   From many are spun one
Music of the sphere  living in the sun
Of God’s golden dome  -  museum  dead  -
By the life-giving saviour water of canal  fed.

.............................................................

Note.

Ever watched how a reflection of a church or other object  in moving water produces small swirling part-images, each undefined but still clearly part of the  object's image?  It's fascinating. 


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Butterfly Kisses contest

Spring woke the world out of its dismal sleep,
Musical sounds of life rejoiced, no longer compelled to weep,

Cocoons cracked fervently,
While light permitted the earth to see,

The splendor of such a sweet creation,
Arising with vigor and anticipation,

Marvelous pigments danced in the warm wind,
Deep in the meadows is where their lives did begin,

Like little flags in midair waving in victory,
It was time for perfection to finally be free,

Butterfly kisses consumed the atmosphere,
Gracefully loving all that came near,

patches of wings swirling in vibrant trails,
lavender violets just casually sailed,

Souring so brightly without a care,
Delicate and delightful some extremely rare,

While landing for a moment in a garden of flowers,
They drank of sweet nectar, renewing all power,

Rejuvenated, now ready to flee,
Onward they swayed towards their destiny.

By: Sabina Nicole
written: 4-8-12


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Pennies from Heaven

Copper pennies she would save throughout her younger years,
to indulge in penny poker with her husband and her friends.

She’d tuck away her winnings in her special penny tin, 
hoping each and every week that she would win again.

But alas her nights of poker would come crashing to an end,
with her husband’s passing followed by the death of poker friends.

She kept her tin of pennies for the memories they possessed,
their significance in her life was more extraordinary in her death.
 
For when she passed the hurt was so intense I could not bear, 
for her gift of life to me was gone, my soul was in despair.

Then suddenly without warning pennies started to appear, 
strategically left in places to remind me that she’s here.

The places I have found them are remarkable I attest,
like atop of my salt shaker, for to her salt was the best.

I found one on my keyboard as she knows the time I spend,
working diligently on a computer from morning till day’s end. 

Of all the twelve I’ve found so far, the most incredible I think,
is the one left on my birthday in the center of my sink.

For each one I receive I thank my mom from deep inside,
For sending pennies from heaven makes my aching hurt subside.
  
This story is quite sincere, so I felt it must be told,
As all my pennies from heaven are as precious as pure gold.


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New Hampshire Has Spoken

New Hampshire Has Spoken
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd

Romney is choice of the republican elite
With thirty-nine percent he’ll be hard to delete.

Paul’s crowd is excited and nipping at his heels
They’ve made monetary policy issues real.

Huntsman says third place gives him a ticket to ride
So on down to South Carolina he will slide.

Gingrich has fallen and he is madder than heck
His story is about the cards in Romney’s deck.

Santorum is still smiling and is headed south
Will his message relate or is he just a mouth?

Perry did not know he was even in the race
Betting on the Palmetto state to save his face


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Flying High

<                                            my deepest passion
                                              outstretched wings of an eagle in fashion  

                                              encircling his domain 
                                              tride and true he remains  

                                              sno-capped peaks
                                              for mate he seeks

                                              call of the wild
                                              imatate like a child

                                              fields of green
                                              crystal streams

                                              beyond horizon
                                              sun's new arising

                                              take me back home
                                              to where the eagle roams

                                              for the capture of ones flight
                                              is purity for ones watchful eye's sight

                                              so come join me on this excursion
                                              inspiration you'll be splurging

                                              I thank you my feather friend
                                              be safe until we meet once again

                                              for you hold your own glory
                                              as it's told in this tales story



Entry For Amy Green's Contest
My Deepest Passion
G.L. All

                                              
                                                                                    


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Sudbury Noodles

If people were noodles and lakes were their soup,

Sudbury's basin would be a great scoop.

300 lakes or just a bit more.

Some have been counting and some are just bored.

Sudbury's water is healthy and clean

leaving our noodles shining with gleam.

Fresh water soup minus the salt,

fresh as going into; fresh by default.

Trees for our parsley cover our shores

keeping us fancy and breathing for more.

Soup we serve fresh out of each bowl

welcoming noodles the world whole.


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You'll Get A Rise Out Of This

The rise of Atlantis
For this I don't want you to miss

Coming of the new world
With Justice dressed as it's girl

An apple from God's slate
Filling the hunger for ones plate

Safe harbor to now call home
Empowered by minds that love to roam





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Get A Rope

Gun slinger
    Matt Zinger

Dressed in black
     Didn't come back

High Noon
    Was Doomed

Quick Draw
      McGraw

Got A Rope
   Hung that dope

Undertaker Called
    Dead Body Hauled

Poured the whisky
     From Junction 60

Dead Man's Trail
  Where slingers failed









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a picture on a cafe wall

A Picture on a Café Wall 

A farmer and his mule are kicking 
up dust on their way to Messines.

The mule has very long ears and 
the farmer wears a big, black hat.

 Side by side they walk the yonder 
yet, they have time to get there. 

The road is asphalted now, and 
dust settles on the grassy verge.


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Sudbury Circles

300 circles of Sudbury lakes

looping and winding in all different makes.

Rising and falling as crust on a bread,

to cooling and stalling when yeast's at a head.

Coming in swells of white bubbled zest,

to finally receding that drying is left.

Warm in the shallows and cool the deep

while hugging the wind and sun for heat

Sudbury circles; water or ice

Sudbury circles; visit us twice


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Spelunker

Adventures in the underground                 	                                                     
did that grow up or down            		                                                 
Light on my head starring into the dark	     			               
what a funny word to be called as I imbark                                          	              
Could it be because I tread water and guano up to my knees                                      
or the sound I would make if I took a wrong step aiiee             	                
Like an aztec two steps which way do I go  		                                 
looking across the vast pothole                                                                                    
As I am pitching and squeezing back to the top                                                           
I am know speleologist but has any one seen the cave cop                                        
I can see the light of day from this cavern                                                                
maybe next time let's just talk about it at the tavern                                               
For I am filthy and dirty but not the word                                                               
maybe only to a caver if you have not heard


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A Wild Wish

Into the wild I wish to go
Where birds fly free and flowers grow
To lose myself in state of mind
That other folks will rarely find
I want to find that special place
Where not a man has turned his face
 
I wish to sail the unseen waves
Of wind rushing through wild caves
To climb the mountains in all their height
And once atop in the view delight
To smell a rose and run with deer
Out in the wild I'll have no fear
 
Far away from any man
The noise and bustle that rule the land
 
When darkness falls I settle down
And listen to the owl's wise sound
I'll sleep beneath the watchful moon
And stars that shine o'er silent dune
When dawn springs forth and sun comes out
Awake I'll rise with joyous shout
 
Into the wild I wish to go
In summer sun or winter snow
To lose myself and then I'll find
The part of me that once was blind


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Life in clover

He who's used to live in clover
does not want it to be over.

Volodymyr Knyr
2014


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Ole Town

As the first rays of the sun pierce through the clouds,
daylight accends upon the land laid in shrouds.

Warmth now greets all the corners of the small town,
earlier the mists had their task to wash down.

Fresh scent of roses from balconies emerge,
in the town square the villagers begin to merge.

Men now frantically on their way to work
as hawkers with their fine wares begin to lurk

Pretty women,with their shopping bags in tow,
small children following behind in a row.

Vicker makes his way across the cobbled street,
along the way meets mayor and town's elite.

Police patrol areas that are their routes,
on the outskirts, a bunch of hiking boy scouts.

A typical nice day in little Ole Town,
evening calls, stop at the pub, the Triple Crown.


(Persian Mathnawi):

Mathnawi or Masnavi is normally poetry written in rhyming couplets. It is believed it emerged from an Iranian form around the 4th - 10th century, and the name is Persian and is not Arabic as some claim. The subject is usually heroic, romantic, or religious. Some Persian Mathnawi are especially significant in Sufism, Rumi's Mathnawi-i-Ma'nawi is an outstanding example.

Most Persian Mathnawi are normally eleven (11) syllables, occasionally ten (10). There is no limit to the number of couplets.
It has a rhyme scheme a. a.. b. b.. c. c. etc

21st June, 2012 (c)


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Living With Lakes

Oh; how our lakes; do circle our reach.

In circles of puddles beyond our belief.

Halting for shorelines that make up their seams;

'till rising above them through rivers and streams.

Surrounded by ribbits of green bumpy frogs,

all woven through reeds by wet bumpy logs.

While sliders of Junebugs will turn in each arc

with legs shifting water like fins of a carp.

As winds of the water break waves to come in,

in meeting the shore in waves that have been.

So picture our lakes as healthy and fun

where Living With Lakes has just begun.


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Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be

Look all around, what do we all see The world seen so young is it what we believed it to be For this is a world that grows with mans time It's now a ticking clock with destruction it's chime It beggars belief that it's so full of hate If it exists will we ever reach heavens gate So many people in power determine our tomorrows They lie when they get there, growing rich from our sorrows Citizens who are ailing have to pay for their care Whilst the vultures in high towers, just look down and stare Children in pyjama's fight endless needless wars What in the hell are we fighting them for Gun culture and drugs, knife crime seems the passion Our kids our future, it's now their neighbourhood fashion The more our borders we keep open, it dilutes what we share Many queue's we will stand in, in gape open stare The answers are out there if they just open their eyes And if they achieve it, well then this is their prize We need much more than the thoughts from our hearts If anyone is out there, help us humans restart Everyday I look around, and from what I see Hell ain't a bad place to be http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-12.php


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Anarchy in the UK

This once nation of peace and calm, lies in chaos and anarchy
It's Government in broken promises, imploding indefinitely

Students are the first to react, their future in tattered torn
Through barricades they implore, their resilience will never be worn

To go back on why you've been voted in, is sacrilege to them
Being blatant has been their response, from alleged honourable men

Days of protests abound, whilst the multitudes in gather grow
Anarchy is their cry, it's for you, whom we'll overthrow

A week has duly passed, as the masses rise in cities rife
They target Government offices, now lying empty in soulless strife

Stubbornness kicks in, by these trusted voted in
In blind they see no reason, to allow their lies to thin

We are now into the second week, enforcement officers cannot contain
Around their table the dishonourable crew, call in our fighting men

Through the barricades, dialogues from our forces gain
Brothers shout to brothers, through the same windows, mirrored are pains

For they have similar irks, to be combatant without their needs
Being posted to lands we don't belong, filling their Governments greed's

Barriers now in fall, amidst the students their brothers unite
No weapons are called upon, a non triggered anarchy strikes

Many cities are now affected, in education down
The anarchy cry kicks in, whilst the Government in place sits drowned

On the steps of No 10, it's aged door now lies ajar
I no longer speak for the people he says, our lies have gone too far

Voted in, now voted out, candidates step forward, in truthful elected cry
For whom now elected, be prepared for the reign, or future political die









http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/political.php


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When One Sits on the Moor

When one sits on the moor at this Culloden place Where the Clans of the Tartan lay in deathly deface On many a night through the following years Families would gather, and continue their tears If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams Run through so young ending their freedom of dreams When one sits on the moor at this Culloden place Where a proud nation fell, nearly disappearing without trace On many a night through the following years From every nook and cranny we would rise again without fear If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams We are now a nation so proud, their tears to esteem http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php


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Valley of the Souls

Way up in the mountaintops
Where even time seems to stop
Buried like a chunk of coal
Lies the valley of the souls
The beauty takes your breath away
For this is where the angels pray
Snow capped peaks standing tall
Surround the valley like a castle wall
Doing all that they can do
To keep the valley hid from view
I stumbled upon it one day
Searching for a place to pray
I felt so very all alone
With a heart as cold as stone
It took me better than a week
To ascend the mountain peak
As I stumbled across the mountain top
My beating heart seemed to stop
As water filled my humble eyes
I prayed the truth of twisted lies
Of God I ask a single plea
Let your Son come unto me
As I descended to the valley floor
I found the peace I was searching for
To all I had gained and all I had lost
The breeze took away the cost
Into my soul it was slowly burned
Make use of all the lessons learned
One day I shall have a spiritual birth
For all that’s born returns to the earth
My spirit will fly beautiful and free
Beyond all we know and all we see
To meet the maker who made us whole
And be welcomed into the valley of the souls





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Wake Up Sleepy Head

Pegasus of thy night
Take me away from this eartly plight

Lay down your golden reigns
Let me climb aboard your mythical train

Stars and moon's cresant's dance
Illuminating to others who gets this chance

Gold dust sprinkles in your hair
Closed eyes for take me there

Up Up and away we go
Pegasus take it nice and slow

Lustrious valleys and sno-capped peaks
Sparkling blue waters for which I seek

Just you and me my mountain friend
Taking this journey till the very end

As I lay my head upon your shoulders
For I feel their turning so much colder

Cannot feel from my head to foot
This dust sprinkle had turn to soot

I'm decending fast and furious
Woke up from dream being more curious


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Pimpernel Palais

Fairies rejoice and dance ballet                                            
Scarlet brandishes the Pimpernel Palais


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What I desire to be, I'll never see

If I could ever come back I know what I would be
I would be indigenous born on the real land of the free

No tribe would it matter for I'd be closer to earth
And I'd probably die like the rest, for what it's worth

But to live so free for many thousands of years
Yes we were fighting, not like our future fears

If we had the guns could you imagine their world
Indigenous invasion, the whole of Europe would have heard

No Dollars,  Mount Rushmore or Sears Tower
Our indigenous grandfathers would hold their power

We will never know where we all would be
What I desire to be, I'll never see





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/indigenous-americans-2.php





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WE CAN BE VICTORIOUS AS CHRIST WAS

Did He die in vain, leaving no visible trace to remember Him by?
Did He fall into Satan's deceitful trap and let him continue to lie?

We can be victorious as Christ was and become immortal, 
let the evildoers destroy themselves with deeds so immoral!

Did His deviate from the holy path and be easily deceived by false glory,
no, He did not give into the Angel of Darkness, but resisted with hostility. 

We can be victorious as Christ was...truly divine and humble,
let others mock us with their irrationality, we will not tremble!

Did He speak against the tyrants of His day, to be praised for being bright?
No, He did not...but with His whip He cleaned a temple so impure and dark!

We can be victorious as Christ and be part of His prophesied kingdom,
and marked by true modesty and humbleness, we'll lose our humanism!

Did He want to die as an impostor to satisfy the ego of a would-be God?
No, He did not seek glorification without merit and be called the Word! 

We can be victorious as Christ was by denouncing all vanity and wickdeness,
not being crucified on Calvary as He was, but be resurrected as Lazarus was!


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Dreamers in Dreams

Eyes in dream shall meet, as they lie on silken sheets 
Where lips in moisten touch, caress in loving greet

Where hands address undulations, curved shapes of he and she
On silken sheets where they lie, in wonderful tenderly

In pause I kiss your lobes, you nape, your porcelain skin 
Two hearts in tender touch, both welcomed from within

On the coldest of nights, we held in warm embrace
Our faces touching softly, in our private loving place

On separate lands we walk, but dreams can be the same
Maybe some day one day, we walk the same loving plain










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-18.php


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Egypt!

I know I haven’t been there yet,
It’s the one thing that I do regret;

There’s no place I would rather go
Such history from so long ago

Someday I will make that trip,
Maybe by plane, maybe by ship;

To see the Pyramids and the Sphinx,
Abu Simbel and the “missing link’s”;

To visit Luxor and Valley of the Kings,
Egypt is filled with so many things;

From Giza to Karnak and Abusir,
To Saqqara and the Oasis of Ahm Shere;

I can’t wait to see them all up close,
Of Egypt I need a healthy dose;

I’m saving up to travel there,
Readying my mind - so much to prepare;

So many places in Egypt to see,
The only thing missing there is me;

~10th Place in the "African's Attitude" Contest by Adeleke Adeite~


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Poetry

Poetry is a world,
Pure and innocent as a pearl

It is form of view,
That is only seen by a few

Poets can unfurl their truths,
And don't need to support it with any proof

It's a place where the grass can be blue,
and broken cell phones can be transformed into glue

Where the sky is yellow,
And people rejoin with loved ones within a sweet meadow

Where flightless birds are given the sky, 
To hop out of gravity and just go up and fly

Poetry is a world,
Pure and innocent as a pearl


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BIRKENAU

Here because of an accident of blood
The multitudes entered in a flood

He saw her silhouette in the blue light
She blew him a final kiss that night

She held his child for him to see
Neither,would ever be set free

On his arm they numbered his tattoo
In this camp for the Holocaust Jew

He came back in forty-five
To keep the Auschwitz story alive.

Tribute to Leon Greenman (1910-2008) the only Englishmen to be sent to 
Auschwitz.


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Dewsbury Moor

The snow fell in Dewsbury Moor overnight,
They woke up at lunch to a horrible sight,
The snow had flowed through the broken gates,
And roads were blocked all across the estates,
The giros had still not arrived after ten,
So wailing was general within the crack den.
The bin bags piled up to the lower window,
Obscured by the grime-defying, beautyfying snow.
The wind whistled through the boarded up seams,
Of windows and roused men from opiate dreams,
While weary-eyed women with mascara'd tears,
Tend to their children, three in four years.
But the memories stay as the snow melts away,
How beautiful Dewsbury Moor looked today!


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Man Must Find

Man Must Find
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

Words in the night spent on heaven’s sheen
Shared with friends one has never seen.
Ramble through the mind unwitting.
In hopes that words shall be well fitting.
Occasions come with explanations gird.
Upon the heart that has not God heard.

Words that vanish in the dark
Words that hold an inner spark,
Words that hide within one’s heart,
Words that light an inner part,
Words that heard by mountain’s stones
Are filled with a spirit’s inner groan.

Whether running through the hills
Or laughing loudly sending chills
Whether sitting where ancients sat
Or hearing words that God begat,
Whether walking down a hall
Or on a court with a basket ball,

There are places inside the heart
Places that shall not depart.
There are places in the mind
Where many thoughts are left behind.
There are places in the soul
Places that know God’s greatest goal.

Whether shopping in a mall
Or on your knees giving God a call.
Whether lost within a book
Or within one’s self taking a look.
Whether resting on a bench
Embracing God with one’s soul synched.

As we wander the asphalt roads
Remember the path to God’s abode.
And if your burden ever seems too great,
Call on Him; do not hesitate.
God, our father, whose spirit stands
Will always reach for His children’s hand.

9-13-2009 Start time: 4:00 End time 4:23+13 proof read “Write Now” practice piece.  23 min.


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Conversation Starter

Please know this:
First kiss,
Someday being a wife,
Realistic life,
Growing to mature,
A good future,
Willing to admit
You're used to it,
Odds and ends,
Smiling friends,
Wanting to live,
Love, and give,
Questions and mystery,
These are things that interest me.


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There were Nine

I recall upon hearing, of a town not far from here From what I've been told, nobody enters because of fear For this town has something darker, darker than known before Nine crows in torment flight, await to deliver sore Being picked upon was a common site, safe, no one was Nobody could fathom why, was it simply just because The day that it came to light, a darkness descended down With a swiftness never witnessed, darkened a living town Under their winged shadows, became people in deathly fall It's as if their looking for someone special, hungered is their thrall For days they dived, swooped again, soaring to their skies This nine in tormented flight, just who can they despise The days and weeks that passed, the town recalls that fateful day Their Church now apparently empty, no more their light displayed . 09/08/2014


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Salving Heights

Sky aglow upon your reflection
Blue eyes of glass bestowing affection

A symphony segueing perpetually,
A Psalm of praise ascending gradually

One by one you extend along,
Road by road you chant this song

Heights you reach, you soar, you shimmer,
Your translucent eyes they shine, they glimmer

With pride you stand, built to build
A future ignited with glory, fulfilled

Your widening roofs, a reflection of sun
Amidst thy beauty, all beauty has begun

Abraj of Dubai… Decorum of future 
                                Adornment of sky 

 	

Abraj: The plural form of the Arabic word “Burj” which means tower


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ODE TO THE MEMORY MAKERS

Do you want to hear a story, perhaps an anecdote or two . . .
There is a place to do it, when life caves in on you.

There is a group of people who share their lives today . . .
I found them only by happy circumstance, as I was traveling this way.

They get together once a month, to tell tales of their past . . .
Each one in their particular way have stories that will last.

Each one could talk for hours on end, and there would be no lulls . . .
For the times and places they have been, are etched upon their souls.

Their pleasure in remembering is a joy to all who hear . . .
We like to listen to the tales they tell, they give us all a cheer.

The lives they have led, the people they've known, the places they've been to . . .
Are celebrated with us each month, as if we'd been there too.

The moments in time that in our hasty lives, we often will forget . . .
Are cherished now as memories, especially the ones we seem to fret.

Memories, I know, are not for us alone and need to be shared . . .
Even the ones we don't want to think on, the ones that made us scared.

The stories they share with us are not just a reason for rhyme . . .
But I wanted each of them to know, how much I enjoy this time.

Because of them, I have remembered so many things of my own past . . .
Times that I'd forgotten, but have come back to me at last.

The darkest corners of memory are brightened by their chat . . .
I, for one, know I will always be grateful for that.

Our thought are put in new perspective - even the darkest ones we save . . .
But however dark and grim they are, as memories they behave.

To all the MEMORY MAKERS present and past who grace us all this way . . .
This rhyme is for you, "Thank You" for sharing your lives with us, past, present, and today.


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Ones Own Dream

Whispering tinkles speak to my soul so clear.
Curving styles go past as I watch so sincere.
Restful unbroken missions set my spirit free.
Rolling scents accentuate emotions in me.

Scenes such as these are my haven from pains.
Emerging sprays from graceful heavenly rains.
Pouring down gently they separate the current,
In such a stylish way this halts any kind of torrent.

This stream that I call natures blessing these days,
Has a sanctification of its own in so many ways.
As if God has given consent for a miracle of peace.
To which has been shared with me in special release.

In dedication of the honor that I have to share with you,
Praising nature that he gave to me and everyone else too,
I write about my precious secret stream for all to know.
Revealing its location is to allow one and all to go.

Though there is not any one location that you can find.
There are many secret places where one may go to unwind.
All the wonders of nature drift along any brook or stream.
Anyone just has to take the time to find their own dream.


Written by
Cecil Hickman

Date written
09/22/2011

Written for
Sponsor Francine Roberts 
Contest Name Flowing water 


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its place

sentimentality has its place
it's in my heart, it's on your face

in an edict of government, for a hungry child
in the middle of nowhere, all windy and wild

it's in scraped skies over citied tall buildings
it's on the Louvre's walls surrounded by gilding 

it's buzzing the field of breeze-blown wheat
at the photo-finish of a horserace dead heat

it lies with the dog quietly resting by the door
the cat's contented purr, the babies quiet snore

it's in the oven, warming with scents
it's under the tree, wrapped in presents

it's written in stories we've all known for years
it's in people you know in your daily spheres

it's right here, on this screen that you're reading
it's after, and now, and time since proceeding

it's in her hair, with its satin-soft sheen
her coy smile at you, if you know what I mean

it's in his brash boast with eased confidence
to do something of import with good consequence

it's kissing your lips, warm and alluring
it's filling your heart and quietly assuring

it's sunning itself, on sweating work days
it's enjoying each other in so many ways

it's in the glint of light shown on my eyes,
to this life lived full, and what it implies

© Goode Guy 2011-11-13


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Breakfast

Clinks... clanks... a crash... a clatter
Pots... pans... and plates... a platter
Smells... sounds... people... and voices
Stools... chairs... tables... and choices
Ching... ding... a door... and a breeze
"Mornin'!"..."Take your order, please?"

~DBurch~


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The Filigree Tree

Presents from the filigree tree
out in the back, for you, for me
with filtered limbs to lift the air
We know it well, I met you there
A ring of broken, braided twigs
We dined on wine, and cheese and figs
and gazed beyond the silver bough
out in the back, I feel it now
Many a book was read aloud
on hazy days, without a cloud
We laughed until the flowers fell
and graced our brow, we knew it well
A thousand stars to sing at night
out in the cold, you held me tight
with whispered frost upon the air
It chills me still, left frozen there
But now the filigree tree has died
I buried it, and wept and cried
for every inch it bloomed and grew
resembled love, from me to you.

                       ~or~


There under the filigree tree
where memory was lost and found
and made and breathed
we tethered the sky on a stormy day
and lapped up the dew from the metal moon
There under belted, velvet boughs
we circled the earth
and glistened the brow
of every moment we left to ignite
like a wound to be healed and kept out of sight
There we fell to love's embrace
a shadowed laugh
a winsome face
to sew the fabric of our time
when I was yours and you were mine...


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Home

Home

Lace filtered dawn, falling softly
Duvet of down, brush lightly

Drifting, timeless, floating here
North Sea breeze, hint of ocean air

Scent of green, languish awhile
Sunday at home, Irish mist smile

Remembered dream saved in heart
A soul remains worlds apart

Stephen (Stoic)




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Night Camp

On a dark dewy dampened night
Stars sparkle above my campsite

A thick brisk breeze blows through
Toggles my tent nearly in two

Hunched I stand to unzip me out
Tent too cramped without a doubt

Wind blows my hair against my face
Zipping it closed with precise haste

Stepping on top of fallen pine needles
Barefoot I pray there are no beetles

Marveling the stars unerringly strewn
Against a black sky accenting the moon

Inhaling the crispness of the night
Decreases my grief with cogent might

Exhaling those troubles kept deep inside
This evening drenches a dreary façade

Loquacious crickets chirp steady songs
Forcing resolve to end the day’s wrongs

The scent of jasmine lingering on
Allows my spirit to sing its song

Undoubtedly camping feels so right
On a dark dewy dampened night~




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Summer Fun

Sweat pants and wool socks
a hand-knitted scarf or two
warm mittens and hats
no doubt you think I’m nuts

Rosy cheeks and runny nose
soggy boots and frozen toes
chattering teeth and quivering knees
when I dream, it is of these

Down jackets now long packed away
skis and poles just taking up space
in my crowded messy garage
snow covered runs - just a mirage

Sun screen and flip flops
sunglasses and sticky pits
baseball caps and Thanksgiving in shorts
I despair of weather reports

How did I get to this eternal hell?
where A/C costs you a paycheck as well
where tender skin exposed continues to burn . . .
I just know somewhere I missed a turn.


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A Prayer for Haiti

I pray dear God to grant reprieve
To Haitian brother in dire need.
Spirit, instill a strength divine,
Transform his heart as loving Guide.
May healing hands inspire hope,
May grace and love our prayers provoke.
Raise Haiti’s head, with conqu’ring faith
You will prevail, you will prevail. Amen.


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The Yard Boy

Dumbbell lifts up and down
weight watcher clown

preens like a blow hard
pacing the yard.

Wearing a white face
with money and place

a sense of entitlement
all the way to hell sent.

Doing the dime
with no fear of the time.

Superior skin
took a left to the chin,

now the cock of the walk
can't even talk.

Supreme courts of justice
may take care of us,

animals in this zoo
will take care of you.


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Half-forgotten Song


Before I go, my love, before I go,
     could we together watch the afterglow?

It won't be long, it wouldn't take too long
     to you I'll be a half-forgotten song.

Now let us watch the slowly setting sun,
     so soothing sweet, though end has just begun,

so brightly beaming, yet, so sadly sighing,
      the day's farewell and now the light is dying.

Behold, my love, the sweetly seething sky,
     the blazing burst of colors draws a sigh.

The flaming purple clouds float by on high,
     the sun's farewell and now, my love, goodbye!


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And the Whole World's Sweet...

In a burst of fellow feeling from the sunshine to the earth
ripened blooms to be revealing soundless voices yet unheard
as they seep into my windows with the sugar scented air
set to spark imagination with a certain savoir faire
I'm entranced beyond all vision thought to signify the spring
and I wake to comprehension and the stature that it brings
for I know the movement of the earth relates to every being
and I feel the warmth upon rebirth in saplings to be seeing
In a burst of live sensations from the sunshine straight to me
theres the marked deliberation to be floating, to be free
As the scent of passing flowers find their way into my room
thus the sunshine overpowers and desires every bloom.


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TRANSFORMED BY WILLINGNESS

I've been transformed by willingness, and a desire 
to move forward without keeping sad things in mind.


Confident to smile with surprise and allowing love to flow in;
faces don't avoid my glances that were unfriendly and sullen.  


Something that happens unexpectadly can give someone an unusual thrill; 
I distrusted people who were different from me...having no character, no will.   


Followed by my shadow, fear captured me to create unnecessary fright;
my room became my habitat and escape from a society claiming their plight.


With no friends to meet at cafes and local restaurants, I closed my windows,
prohibiting a glint of sunshine...assuming it wasn't meant for me, but for others. 


Glued to a wide screen, watching documentaries of tragedies and unaviodable fates;
empathizing with them, and yet convinced that I shouldn't have been grabbing at straws. 


Hackneyed words came out of my mouth, a habitue' of negative and dubitable thoughts;
and filled with their drudgery,I stopped listening to positive folks, thus, doubling my loads.


How can one be transformed by willingness? Discard the habits that amount to nothing; 
find the source of your uselessness, and be inspired by all who have achieved their goal.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Our English Doll

A girl so picturesque, so very sweet
A heart so tender, to know it is a treat.

We are here to catch you when you fall
To pick you up and mend you, doll.

All you are we shall defend
For you are quite a cherished friend. 


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THAT'S SO DISTINCTIVELY NEWYORKESE

I walk too fast on these busy sidewalks under the towering, illuminated skyscrapers,
any tourist or visitor notices the pace of my footsteps...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.


I talk with a northern accent so clear and distinguishable; and instantly anyone
who's visiting this wonderful city, recognizes it...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.


I wear the latest designer's clothes that define the image and ego of my masculinity;
it's so chic to sport the new trends and be admired...that's so distinctively Newyorkese..
 

I'm an avid fan of the Yankees, and at City Fields I watch my heroes passionately play;
I jump from my seat, when a player hits a home-run...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.
 

I find my spot on the Great lawns in Central Park, to hear a summer concert or opera;
with eyes focused on the stage, enjoying the moment ...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.


I ride over the Brooklyn bridge, when the water below glimmers, and the lights above shine;
a magnificent view, I'm privileged and glad to live here...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.
 

From the high sea, I can see the Statue of Liberty...the Green Lady holding the heavy torch;
at Ellis Island, she welcomes everyone and smiles, and that's so distinctively Newyorkese.   


Going to a familiar cafe along Fifth Avenue, to chat with old friends and drink cappuccino;
tourists kindly ask me to take their photo, I smile...that's so distinctively Newyorkese.

  
  

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Eerie, Beery Night

After one too many beers, in the wee hours of the night,
I whizzed around town in my motorbike, feeling light;

     I zoomed into a dark side street and who or what did I meet
     but potholes, like drunk hobos, recklessly crossing the street!

I ran over some of them, they fought back and  muddied me,
made me swerve and splash into murky puddles I couldn't see.

     I stopped to catch my breath on the black deserted highway
     by my bike, the only one that stood by me, I should say;

but nastier than potholes, the asphalt was a different case,
it leaped and stood bolt upright and slammed hard against my face;

     In a split-second eternity, I swam the eerie border
     of the real and the unreal,  this beery night to remember !


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Let's Start Today

Let's bring into this world peace
So all these wars and violence can cease
Let's stop all this hatred
And give the poor and homeless a piece of bread
Let's start by changing us all and right from inside
And letting God be your guide
There's so much we need to change
Even if it looks and sounds strange
We can all start sometime and somewhere
By showing in everything that we do, that we care

Let's be careful in the manner that we speak
Let's be strong and not weak
Let's show this world, that we still stand strong and tall
Let's unite together with courage and tear down every single wall
Let's bring into this world of ours much more love and peace
So a lot of this vicious circle of strife and pain can one day cease
Let's start today and let's do it right from the place in which we live
Let's always be respectful of our neighbors and our fellow man
Let's give the best of ourselves everyday and all the time that we can.
Let's stop this madness and get rid of all these illegal drugs today
They can destroy everything that you have and will kill you too
Make a vow to bring God into your life every single day
And make Him part of everything that you do.
Believe that your life will be more productive and blessed
When you put Him first in every thing
That you set your mind to do when you bring
Him closer and right inside your heart
And from you He shall never depart
So start by doing this and much more
Let's answer the call and open the door
Let's be watchful of everything that we do and say
And let's be thankful and pray to God everyday!



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2008


February,2,2008


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DAY DREAMS

I was standing as in a dream
...wondering was life all it seemed

I was rambling along a road
...lost in thought,was life a code

I was staring through my window
...seeing the world come and go

I was floating in the spring sunshine
...were these surreal moments mine

I was dozing in the cooling shade
...poetic thoughts appear then fade

I was composing as in a dream
..this ode came floating down the stream


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PARADOX

United into eternity
Yet crucified with Christ

Raised to a new life
A citizen of the King

Living here on this earth
God with us,three in one

Sanctified and forgiven
By sacrifice..of  the  Son


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SUB PRIME

Shadows move across the floor
Sun-beams trace patterns on the door

Quiet echos in the hall
Neighbours no longer call

Space fills the empty chair
Neglect...replacing care

Children's voices no more sing
Telephone bells no longer ring

A place no human now takes their ease
The'For Sale' board rattles in the breeze


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Silver Breath

Silver sleeved hands, embryo breath
architect moons in buildings and nets
draped over silver streets, hissing with steam
Silver hands weaving a smooth silver sheen
Backbones erected, joints moaning cold
silver hats tipped and discovery unfolds
Pumping the heart beat through oil and vents
Silver steam breath on the sidewalk in jets
Humming of motors hung silver to dry
above all the streets in the galvanized sky
Soon there'll be windows in silver and steel
Soon there'll be footsteps, robotic and real
Silver sleeved hands on the weaver elite
building tomorrow, right now on your street.


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Haven Sublime

Cinnamon smiles and sleepy cut glass
a blur, flowing colors through windows and passed
Coffee beans crunched into steam in the air
The wind blowing winter through strands of your hair
Mountains in slumber and valleys in hush
Peppermint warmth from the moment we touch
Rest of the world falls in gridlock and twine
but we have found peace in our haven sublime.
Winter is welcome with smores by the fire
We now see the sky, fluid clear with desire
The stars reflect frost on the lawn, in our eyes
With blankets and thermos we head for the skies
Cider and cinnamon, mica cut streams
Breathing in pure like the stuff made of dreams
We polish our souls, unraveling time
for we have found peace in our haven sublime.


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Space Age

The mystic lips of the moon
Propelled man to races
Sucked...lost...ended dust
In the silence of darkness


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Settler's moon

   Sweet smoke curling
'round the camp
huddled in the cold and damp
fireside lovers
cuddle  dearer
wolves howl somewhere
closer,nearer
circled wagons strong embrace
around the buckskin
and the lace
around the children
of the plains
brave thou cold and wind
and rain
there to find the dream within
to go where no one else
has been.
beneath the chalice of the sky,
the settler's moon
and you and I.


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the WIND and I

  I stood atop a looming bluff
the WIND kept asking why
I Said I couldn't say enough
and yet I could not die
 Snapping,slapping
clothes and hair
the wind kept saying
I still care
 But all I know is space and air
you have to learn to fly
the wind slipped swiftly
'round my waist
and swept me outward
into space
 I'm sure I almost saw
his face
the world went
flashing by
 The currents took me
to the moon
above the azure sea at noon
or maybe I was in a swoon
 I felt so brave and high
A moment or a hundred years
sweet laughter
or a thousand tears
 I lost my mind
and all my fears
We flew,
the wind and I.













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In Between

Between Heaven and Hell… the earth where we live.
Where we are going is based on, that, which we give.

Within black and white…a place that’s always grey.
A place where we attempt reason, but a place, too, where we pray.

Between right and wrong, there should never be such a place.
Decide your own action; you will then decide your own fate.

All these marginal areas, those places in between,
Are places we will be leaving from, should be places we have seen.

Every action has a consequence and good ones have reward.
Choose your actions wisely, friends, and you will find accord.


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Found On My Shore

You washed up as a smooth white bone
of concave breadth and marble hone
You washed up when the tide was high
Held to my cheek to feel the sky
You dragged in with the silver tide
a secret to the waves confide
You lost me then inside your spell
I felt to faint, a bit unwell
You salted skin upon the beach
when you were there, within my reach
You played the waves to sweetly slip
in equilibrium to tip
You waited there to hear my name,
to soak the sand in pouring rain
You slept awhile until my hands
brushed off debris of golden sands
You washed up like a Grecian stone
when I was walking there alone
but now I'll throw you past the shore
You're not the treasure I'm searching for...


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Whom I Did Not Love?

Greetings to you, O, lovely sky
Show me my precious butterfly

Here I am before your majesty
Let us live tomorrow in purity

Like we were together yesterday
Watching the sun faded into gray

Time quickly passes
Age, suddenly, increases

Yet still, I am all alone
Sitting on your marble throne

Can’t you see me from above?
As I pronounce to you my love

In my own song of soft falsetto  
Oh, remain to me, not in incognito

So, tell me Athena, my love
Whom I did not love?


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settlers song

 Great American adventure
over the plains alone
loved ones wait and wonder
where we might have gone
  charting unknown waters
to brave the starless nights
we brought our sons
and daughters
we kept our dreams in sight
all in this together
we'll get there and we'll thrive
no matter what the weather
Americans alive!
so build the campfire high
tonight
and sing a settler's song
we'll keep the wilderness at bay
till you can come along.


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DINNER DATE

I walked along the pebbled shore
In my mind I saw a door

In my soul I heard a voice
In my heart I made a choice

I sat upon the burning sand
I took the offered,outstretched hand

We lit a fire and bar-b-qued
Enjoying fellowship and food

I returned along the pebbled shore
Complete,made whole,forever more

Full story @ Rev 3:20 & Jhn 21:9 -14 


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CHEZ NOUS

Home..that familiar place
     to light a downcast face

Home..a place to learn & grow up
     to drink slowly at life's cup

Home..sometimes filled with tears
     where we confront our fears

Home..to be open and real
      and tell it as we feel

Home..somewhere to dream & wish,
      somewhere to hug & kiss

Home..a place to live & die
      somewhere to mourn & cry

Home..furnished by love' s touch
     bedecked in comforts we trust so much


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CAMEO-SON OF MAN

On a tree he was to die
It is finished ..was his cry

A man of truth,none can deny
he gave his life..for you & I

A man mourned then,by just a few
In just three days was born anew

Leaving behind an empty grave
His purpose then.. as now to save.


Full story @John19:20-30 & Mt 28