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Narrative Art Poems | Narrative Poems About Art

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Details | Narrative | |

The Clouds


My voice=
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?

Gods voice~
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.

My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of. 
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more? 
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior? 
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’.  Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

Gods voice~  
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.

My voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?

Gods voice~ 
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.  
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.

My voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days. 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

Gods voice~  
Getting right with me has brought you here!

My voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see them? My Daughter, Mothers and Sisters~


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Just an Old Memory

She’s just an old memory of a younger man’s dreams
An image of love hard to find
I can still see her eyes, taste the joy of her lips
In the deep recesses of my mind
Hair that was flowing, a smile that was glowing
An angel with earthly charms
Felt her heart beat in the tropical heat
Got lost in her loving arms
Sometimes I wonder if it was only a dream
An old sea story that I told
But I remember those eyes like a radiant beam
A treasure greater than gold
I wonder now if she waited on shore
With the fire in her heart still burning
And I wonder if there were tears in her eyes
Realizing I would not be returning
She’s just an old memory that haunts me today
A storybook love affair
A blanket, a beach and two bodies entangled
On a tropical island somewhere.

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Light On the Devil's Chord -Day 1

And the music began,
And with power so strong, I nearly fell back from the force
Snarling, smiling, demons held me upright,
As the Precarious Prince began,

“Dare you in silence come to me, Daughter of Eve,
To challenge my wisdom with your lust to sing,
A child of God—you provoke His flea,
A monster in the dark—a sight to see!

In meditative silence, I was ever blooming,
The passion for power in my mind consuming,
In silence, my brilliance berated all other
My beauty, shocking, my wings of color

Etched in golden array, 
Silence was my everything,
A bud so tight, so light, so moist,
In heaven bright—its beam rejoiced!

And now, as knowledge, as power do burst,
I sit in silence, though in the worst
A quiet so perturbed your stomach curbs,
I long in luster for demons to disturb

Silence, once a subordinate to my wit,
Had found its way into this grimy pit,
Where now your God has given me,
A work of sloppy treachery…

Had I been He, and He been me,
I would throw His heart into the sea,
And watch the eels suck each artery
And listen to his lullabies for a century,
To feel his spirit sweat in the flames of my power,
I would shred his head on the highest tower,
Give him something to really Bab-bel,
Make him wish Eve had crushed that apple” 

He smiled at me with teeth protruding, 
Head craning,
Keenly waiting for my reply
My throat was insanely dry, and my heart racing
I had expected more, yet expected less…
And now all my wits were a wretched mess

Yet still Death severed those deep bass chords..
I began as a child would, with a doubtful sigh,
I wondered yet again what kind of trouble I was coming by
And inspired by The Reaper’s little push, I began

“In my days in your presence, dear one
Silence shall not roam too close,
I do not sing to disdain you,
Rather to know you, 
I do not grow quiet,
To decompose you…”

I stopped for a moment, 
To see him staring rather attentively,
As if he were expecting a miracle
His almost angelic expression changed as quick as it came…

“Go on…” He demanded. “Sing me what your God would have sang…”

“You speak of silence, in the fogs of doom,
In your pit you dwell, and with a child you make room,
I have ached long in the vision of your cries,
Watching the happy children, and the relieving sighs,
I imagined you just as I see you today,
A beautiful sufferer, with wit, bite, and sway
Crushing courage in your wake,
I implore you—you quake
Moments like these I will never forget,
To win, to lose, to KNOW I wait yet!
What is it with man and his thirst for the truth,
Leading him to fall, to intercede his youth,
And as I do now, wrong or right,
By God and his angels has found delight!
Allowed me with confidence to face you Prince,
A sauntering being of ire and impertinence
I see where your attention bleeds,
I see your mind and I see your needs
Such darkness must now allow some light,
By accepting my challenge—a bravery so bright
Do I mean to admire you, accept you, despise you
Am I hear to judge you, taunt you, transpire you
You and you alone I come for, oh Prince
To show you I care, to break the silence
To share with you the precious gifts of song,
To love, to sing, and in turn…belong…”

The demons chimed with laughter dark
As the Prince sat close beside me
He stood very slow, towering over me,
And took me by the arm

“Charming voice, darling,
You sing quite well,
Shall we sing for as long as you say?
Will you not be missed?”

He pointed above me, and stared at me deeply
There was warning written all over him
A threatening, distant eye,
The other full of desire

“I am missed by you, though I stand before you,
This I say, Prince
I shall stay with you 40 days and 40 nights, 
And then I shall leave you, in the breaking dawn of day…”

His grip tightened upon me,
“I have you, child, woman…light…
For 40 Days and 40 nights… 
Before then, let us make history of song
Yes, my dear... let us both belong…”

The demons gasped,
And Death stood still…steadily strumming a pulse of daring life

----Thank you once again, Justin Bordner, for the title to this work. 
This may be confusing if you have not yet read the other parts to the poem.  If you are interested, they are called Light On the Devil’s Chord – Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 as well as The ChallengeThanks for reading friends! ~Laura

Details | Narrative | |

New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...

Details | Narrative | |

---And the Angel Looked On

"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write" - Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

that was the last word he whispered before his eyes closed forever...

I close my own eyes, bite my lower lip, 'til I taste tin, stone angel crying with me...
The wind sends chills through me, as the heavens threatened to weep
brown leaves skittering between my feet, seeking for shelter.
How I related to those leaves: dry...brittle...dead.

I look at the Angel that watches over him,imploring for answers, 
begging this Guardian to take pity on me, help me remember. 
She only looks at me, with tears in her eyes, her beautiful face
always looked enigmatic to me, for she was smiling...
and yet those tears hinted at sadness, 
seemingly reprimanding me with her look.
I bow my head in shame, and reach for her hands, 
but I only feel cold, hard stone...not unlike my heart

My throat catches, I can hardly breathe--
I loosen my grip, feeling it might burn this time
...from guilt, for forgetting...

I glance at her magnificent wings, and wished I had them, too,
if only to fly away, but my feet are stuck on the ground, 
with a heart buried in regret.

I whisper one word: "Sorry":spoken so softly, I think I only said it in my heart;
I say it louder, my body wracked with sobs, my heart bleeding crimson tears of anguish. 
I look at the Angel and notice something on her sash--
One pristine white feather lay there-a stark contrast to the moss covered stone.
I take the feather, notice wordings etched on the sash--and scraped off moss, 
Tennyson's words go straight to my heart...
" 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

The memories come back like a flash flood, assaulting me, bringing me back to that day.
He told me he had an angel carved to be with him at his grave, 
since I, his angel, couldn't always be there for him. And that he understood, 
that it was okay. I shrugged it off, told him I love him forever.
I still do, that's why it shamed me that I also love another now.

Seeing those words, I felt such a sense of peace, like he was embracing me, 
smoothing out my hair like he used to, telling me it was all right. 
I blink back tears, and say "Thank you" this time...I hug the Angel and I felt warm.
Drizzle and sunlight bounced off each other as I walked away. 
I turn my head around to his grave
--and the Angel looked on with a smile.

Constance's Angels in Cemeteries contest
 June 18, 2011

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The road to a Championship

    Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority.  They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is".  Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do.  Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that.  There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place.  So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:

Details | Narrative | |


She sits alone 
She draws her knees up to her shoulders, hugging them tightly
She shivers in the icy wind 
Her teeth chatter and the stream of tears from her eyes, sting her cheeks 
As she lifts her head towards the heavens, 
Her eyes burn with pain and her piercing scream, barely human, expresses her Excruciating 
suffering and anguish

She is gripped by immense sorrow, the most powerful and destructive emotion
It roughly envelopes her, throwing her into a pit of darkness, filled with evil shadows
The shadows claw at her, ripping into her flesh like daggers
She shakes violently, tasting blood as she bites down hard on her bottom lip
But she feels no pain, her body is numb, numbed by the demons of sorrow, who, 
Are slowly overpowering her, devouring her heart 
And locking her in an eternal web of pain

She is engulfed by fear as the intense sorrow surrounding her, compresses her
She gasps for air as the merciless hands of sorrow close around her throat
She fights in her lonely vacuum, with everything she has
She reaches for her only comfort, her fingers coil around the blade
As she stretches her arms out in front of her, her void eyes gaze upon her pale skin
Her skin is etched with scars
Her scars an eternal, entwined, tattoo of her excruciating suffering
As she runs the jagged blade over her skin, its cold feel calms her
The compressing sorrow surrenders
This is her saviour, the one who can release her from this life of pure hell
Her skin begins to open, the river of blood flowing strong
Her pain is flung into the open, through her wounds, 
Leaving a sense of tranquility in her distraught heart

Her red stained fingertips caress her raw wounds
She is mesmorised by the life force flowing from her, as it paints 
Her tragic story on her body
Painful tears bleed from her eyes as regret shudders through her
She rocks backwards and forwards, lulling herself into a sense of peace
Her body is drained
As she lies back she becomes limp
Her eyes close and her whispered prayers fill the open air,
Creating the painful melody her heart sings
As she slips away

Thunder roars and the starry heavens open 
As God’s tears rain over His beloved daughter, 
Healing her wounds and piecing her broken soul back together
As the sun rises above her, 
It illuminates her peaceful expression
Her earthly father collapses besides her
His silent tears wash over her beautiful, pale face
As he lifts his dead child in his arms, 
Vicious sorrow rips his heart apart, 
Creating wounds which will never heal

Details | Narrative | |

Where Were You

He looked at me with
begging eyes,

Hiding in his own world.

All knew his looks,
But none knew him.

No one realized
who he was.

Alone, desperate.

Then one day,
Everyone closed in on him

Their daggers pointing
At the only feeling he had:


He let out a sob
One small sob that told them everything

They walked away.
But they never ceased to push and shove him

Dislocating his heart and putting sorrow to his words.

They never realized
What they were doing

Until it was too late.

He put a sword to his heart and said,
"I love you, mom and dad, but now it's time for me to go."

Stabbing his heart,
He cried.

He lay there, his cold and still body radiating sorrow

The others never glanced,
But I looked at him.

I carried him out,
Not understanding why others would do this.

When we held a funeral,
Some said he was kind and so I asked,

"Where were you when he needed you?"

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You're Still With Me

Rushing  to your bedside,
cars blurred, people passed me by
yet I still looked for a sign
to know you would be all right
but I only felt God's tears on my cheeks that day

You just lay there,
the fire in you set to low
and I could not see your bright smile
but your heart still beat, ever so strong
and I felt God’s arms embrace me that day

For seven days you held on,
a day for each of us 
even then you were so thoughtful...
you could not speak, but we still heard you breathe
then I heard God whisper to me that day…

As I left with papa to buy your mattress
to soothe your aching sores
I heard His voice say, “Go back and kiss him,”
“This just may be your last.”
And true enough, it was.

We left you there still breathing,
not on your own though, but still
Then that dreaded phone call...
No more need to buy that mattress,
your heart had already gone still

A part of my heart will always be numb,
and I shall never be the same again
a certain twinkle in my eye won’t shine anymore,
it died as you took your final breath
but my smile, how thankful I am I have a hint of yours...

Tears still flow from my soul you know
for all my mistakes, for my version of coping
I am just so sorry, I hope you have forgiven me
and I still hope to feel your embrace once more
when I reach Heaven’s door someday...

It may only be in dreams that I truly see you,
only in prayer do we speak
You are here no more and yet I feel you,
inside my heart, the depths of my soul…

** this is about the last image of seeing my only brother alive...
he was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball 
5 months prior to his seizure which led to a 7-day coma, 
which he finally succumbed to, 
just 2 days before I turned 23...he was 32...

** originally wrote this for Frank's Images contest- 
thanks Frank for coming up with this, 
it's helped me to write and share this... 
please say a prayer for Raphael, my brother--thank you...

** submitting this as well for HG's Personify a Tear contest

--nikko palmario

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Hidden Love

      I am hiding behind the post in your heart.
      Are you looking for me?
      My love for you is like the restless sea,
      Come kiss me again for me heart to be free.

      You are the fresh flowers smiling at me,
      Your heart is bubbling like the laughing sea.
      The sun caressed your face in a thin shower of rain,
      Your succulent lips caused my heart to pain.

      Your love is hidden in your smiles,
      Your innocent face looks like a child.
      Your immortal kisses lights a lamp in my heart,
      In the heat and the cold your love shall never part.

      I am hiding in your heart for your love to grow,
      Your love comes and goes like the wind that blows.
      The rains and the wind called you to me again,
      I heard your heart cry;for me to feel your pains.

      Where are you hiding O my lovely darling?
      Come kiss me again in the bright morning.
      Let your love grow like the waves in the sea,
      For our hearts to rejoice for our souls to be free.
      Your love is hidden in the mirror of your eyes,
      Come kiss me again for your love never to die.   

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The Story of the Door

Part One- Reality

The door is closing
I’m loath to close it
And yet….and yet
I feel….I must
Close it gently
Close is surely
Close it….SLOWLY
Oh, so very slowly
Hoping against hope

Part Two- Fantasy

How I long to fling it open
And dash outside
Grab your retreating frame
And pull you inside
Eager to show you
The wonders I’ve prepared
The love decorations I’ve hung
Perhaps if you could see
With your own eyes
My little and cozy heart
The warm fire that continually burns
The bed that I’ve prepared and perfumed
The food…delicacies for your tongue
Treats bursting with flavors 
You’ve never tasted before
Sweet dainty desserts for when
The night has turned to day
And we arise hungry
Searching for what will sustain us
For our next expenditure
Of passion tinged energy
From which we never tire
Perhaps then
You'd come inside 
My heart kingdom

Here, you reign
In this kingdom
All is under your command
My soul and body
Yours to do with as you wish
Without asking
Without demanding
For I belong to you
And I know you well
Aware of what will please
When to appease
When to placate
And when to tease…

I serve you with tender hand
Longing to satisfy you
So you will never want to leave
To make you dream contented dreams
As you sleep soundly
On the soft silken pillows
Of my body
And awake to dream again
For life is but “A Dream within a Dream”

Part 3- Back to Reality

No, your figure continues to retreat
My voice does not reach you
My tears fall unnoticed
This door of my heart
Must close forever
I will bolt it too
For I cannot bear the thought
Of letting another in
Only you
Only you…

I sigh behind the door
Looking at the bed
That will not hear
My moans and cries of ecstasy
Nor your contended sighs
A bed that will never hold
Our entwined bodies
Tossing and turning
Finely tuned to the rhythm of delight
A bed that will never feel
Hands that clutch at its silken sheets
Desperate to hold on…a little longer
In that pulsating world of blinding light

Part 4- The Final Act

I lean with all my strength against the door
To close it “forevermore”
And yet…
There is resistance
It will not close
Frustrated, with tears spilling down
Threatening to turn into a deluge
I fling the door open
Only to look at a massive chest
My eyes travel up to your face
And those beautiful eyes
My source of delight
Your hand reaches out
And wipes away tears
My breath catches in my throat
As I hear your mellow voice speak
“Won’t you invite me in?”

Part 5- Yes, the happy ever after! 

Eileen Manassian Ghali

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Heart Shaped Stone

How plain it looks in the morning sun, as I hold it to the window light
And palm it fondly once again
It stirs my heart with tenderness, emotions blend with winter's sky
A rock as smooth, as silk, as glass…, this heart shaped stone he gave to me
Along with a kiss that could not last, that brief repast 
         of what would pass                             
                    ... of what could never be…., 
I was late to bloom, a quiet girl, long dark hair, and I blushed with ease
He sat behind me in science class, poked fun, and loved to tease
He would flip my pony tail to and fro, and beg for the answers to a test
Or call me “squirt”…….and to the rest...
   he’d say, “Bug off!”…if someone rude would dare to taunt me
His eyes were dark, and skin was fair, his Lettered jacket had much appeal
A flirt he was,  but much too fast, especially for a girl like me
Considered cool….I was quite out-classed, but I must love was real

He lived far down our country road, his family owned a big ranch home
His Jeep sped daily by our house,  much too fast,...much too fast...
Too much privilege, has a price, know, .... he was the spoiled kind
My parents often said as much...
“Don’t look too hard!” “Don’t be inclined!”  much too fast...much too fast...

Beneath the cool, his smooth talk play,
   was a gentle way he treated me, 
      he had a tender smile for was sincere...I knew it then
        I know it now.....and all the while I believed in him
        Although, he wore a false disguise...a macho side,  for all the guys

One day when I was on my horse, not far from home, 
he drove on by and then, of course 
he stopped to talk, we laughed, he smiled
I tied my mare, he left his Jeep, we took a walk through piles of hay 
So cold, then rain,... came unprepared, he shared his coat, 
and the leather scent would fill the air

Beneath our feet, he saw the rock, a muted-colored  heart shaped stone
He gave me. then, a quiet look, and took my hand…
Into my fist, he put the stone, and on my lips….a  tender kiss

We never spoke of it again….He was cool, ….   you must remember
                                                 that morning cold, in late November...

I heard the news a few years later…it broke my heart, and brought the rain

 He sped too fast, ………….again,……again …..
 The past brings pain .........again, ....again....

Sweet scent of leather, can last forever
Reminding me now, of yesterday
Reminding me now,  of never, never...

                   of the things that can never be....



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Jess and Mike

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."

There was a time when Jess was young, that we thought we were going to lose him.
It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors on one side joined the headaches.
Countless trips to the Doctor and days of having to leave work to go to his side at school to help him through the episodes.  I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CAT scan.  I think that the only reason that the Doctor agreed, was to shut me up.  But I knew in my gut, that these were not migraines as diagnosed.
The day of the CAT scan came.  I sat in an area that allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first, the techs were very chatty among themselves.  Then, stark silence.  As if a tomb door had been shut.  Then the words that still haunt me were said..."Oh shit"  on of the technicians whispered.   I closed my eyes and felt my heart cry out in its pain.

I sat in the Doctors office, waiting for him to come and tell me my son was fine.  That there was an error in the reading of the scan.  
He entered with his nurse, who was carrying a box of tissues and cup of water.
"Your son has an arachnoid cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain is not there.  In its place is a fluid filled sack.  The pressure of the filling fluid is causing all the symptoms.  He will need to undergo brain surgery."
I sat there....numb.  All I recall hearing are the words...Brain surgery.
The day of the surgery came.  His younger brother was with me in the waiting room. Too young to understand the gravity of the situation.  All he knew was that his brother was very sick.
Now, I want to take you to our sons Hospital room, post surgery.  
There he was, lying in the big bed.  White as the sheet that covered his small body up to his chest.  His head wrapped in bandages.  Tubes and wires everywhere.
As our son was waking up, his first words were  "Where is my brother?"
Mike flew to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand.  "I'm right here!"  he said.  
Very weakly, Jess was able to say  "I love you Mike."
Mike in turn said, "I love you Jess."
My tears that had never flowed through the whole ordeal finally came.   Not out of fear, but for the love that our sons had for one another.

Paula Swanson
For the A Fragment Of Life contest
sponsored by Constance La France

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Chinese Scrolls

Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.

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The sparkling blue gem

Scaling the skies and beauty of her wonder world A fairy saw a sparkling thing down in a valley Intrigued she flew up to it Mesmerized she was, when she saw it A big ,sparkling ,blue gem with lustrous shine Thrilled by its luster ,she touched it And woof!!! Her magic wand disappeared She lost her wings and all her powers In desperation ,she touched it again and again But to no avail Disheartened she walked up to the nearby brook With her head in her lap ,she started crying Suddenly she heard a soothing music The music of rumbling, ruffling brook Freshly scented spring air wiped her tears Dusky splendid skies brought her smile back A new world was unfolding before her Elated she was, when she walked on the dewy grass Her eyes shone, when she saw a small pink flower, growing under a rock Her heart skipped a beat when she touched the bark of the tree Intoxicated by this beauty, she wandered around And unknowingly reached back to the vicinity of the blue gem On seeing it again ,she felt that it’s beauty had increased Again mesmerized by its luster, she touched the gem This time with an enlightened heart and a beautiful mind And woof!!! Her magic wand reappeared Her wings and powers restored Since night was befalling on her She with an elated heart ,flew hastily up to her abode Resting on her couch ,she felt something stuck to her feet It was the fresh dewy grass Holding the grass blade in her hand She smiled ,as she knew She had learned a lesson that day Had seen a new world, a world beyond her magic and had learned to keep her feet grounded….

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The Angel Of Death

As I walk this earth 
Bare and broken
Blood soaked and driven
My soul in supernova
My mind, frenzied.

My body bruised
My sword well used
Breathing in fresh paint 
From beaten bodies and torn souls 

Sudden movement
A quivering soul
A careless action
My attention
To hold. 

A smile drapes
Bearing into my soul
The world disappears
My deathly hunger

Slow and pleasuring 
Each clink of steel 
Warms my heart 
Mending my soul

First blood, 
A lonely bead 
Inviting my wrath
It trickles 
No warning sold.

Teasingly, it lays in waiting 
Pulling me closer
Begging almost 
To bring more 
An abyss, 
It draws my victims in 
Craving, wanting, yearning 
To feel bloodied flesh 
Against my skin
A fear, I sense 
Another victim to claim

Pleasure streams 
Blood oh glorious blood
My eyes feeling, each soul I’ve claimed

A vulture stalking its prey 
Yet again
Imperative, a mission
Deep wanting, to quench

Valiance, a virtue, I dare not detest  
Submissive, he glares eye to eye
His being laid not to rest

Unsteady, yet giving.
My hands he guides to my sword
Thrilling me more 
A kiss so chaste
My heart explodes

Like a child 
I revel, 
Rapture so pure 
Beautifully he whispers 
“Be a sinner no more 

Take my soul
Gruesomely, I beg 
Treasure the blood
That my body 
So willingly sheds 

Your craving 
To sate 
I was born to the earth
Release your demon 
Release it form its depths 

Stay hidden no more
Bare, naked, run free
Believe it not a disease
But a gift 
As I see.

Unsheathe your sword
Glorious, shall it gleam
Purified, ready 
Through my heart 
Shall it go.” 

Pleasure shudders through me.
A kiss I lay 
Goodbye, my dearest 
Your debt has been paid.

Amanda Miller 
{This is to a new friend , a faceless being 
that brings out the person hiding in me }

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Wings of your Love

When I see your face
Bright as a star in dark skies
Your eyes radiant and clear as crystal
Tears of love drench my cheeks-
On your shoulders forever I’ll lull
Under the comfort of your warm wings of love

When I see greens of the fields
Celebrating every kiss of the winds;
The cold breeze at the shores of falling rivers
I see the shape of your heart-
A heart print that forever will stay
Whispering at every height of the melting mount

When you whisper my name
At the cold of a warm dawn
My heart bleeds for the unending bliss;
I weep when your shadow sublimes-
Leaving only an idol to cling on!
Let me nurture your heart, my love to defend.

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Summer Scent

Summer scent is the smell of freedom
where we can escape the flavor of boredom
so we plan to have our vacation on the beach
where we can relax and fresh air is within our reach

The warm wind tenderly embraced my spirit
I felt excited on this first visit
on an island where refugees can find paradise
an island where spending time is wise

The dulcet breeze gently kisses lush green trees
and the mirthful sun smiles over the vast seas 
Where surfers play with gigantic waves
and are not certain on what road it paves

The fluffy clouds are smoothly sailing 
the birds are singing and harmoniously dancing
There are butterflies that are colorful in hue
like enchanted fairies changing colors from pink to blue

I need my sun block, it's time for swimming
the tables are full because later we're all eating
Ladies are smiling to many cool surfer dudes
Children are hungry seeing delicious exotic foods

I picked a shell that whispered peacefully in my ears
and we built castles that we fancied over the years
out of the small grains of white sands
and all you need is helping hands

God was really great in creating splendid wonders
that were loved by all especially the nature lovers
There are numerous oceans that are aquamarine
and abundant trees and grasses that are green

The brother sun was slowly hiding
because the sister moon was coming
I guess it was our time to pack
but there will come a time for us to go back

Go back to a place of leisure and freedom
where you'll not taste the flavor of boredom
It would be hard for us to say goodbye
because truly we will come back and say Hi!

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Touching the Stars

The blue mood of silence, is there on the screen
Not a whisper, no dialogue, just a hummingbird sound
The celluloid reel, spinning backwards in time
while flickering shadows, transport me away
and opens the curtain, on one special day

I am watching the ocean breeze catching your hair.
It frolics, embracing the blue dress you wear
You are running barefoot along the incoming tide
The beach is as smooth as the silk of your skin
You are flying a kite in the swift summer sky

You raise up your arm, and are waving at me
A smile on your mouth, and a light in your eyes your face, in your eyes,
I can almost hear the sweet sound of it ring in this room
It shatters the silence of the cold winter's gloom

The joy of it falls through the long winter years....
In voiceless, vague memories, to rest on my ears

I follow I'm watching you play
Your lips ever moving....what is it you say?
I find myself reaching... still, wanting to catch
and set a small trap...somehow reach into the past

Where are the chords,....the score to that song?
This music I long there with the stars

But, here in the heart of this moment, the stars, that I ask..
Never can vanish ...they sail....and they last...
Like the kite reaching higher....while piercing the sky
Weaving a magic...where joy never dies
I watch how you hold on....that kite in the sky...
Before me in silence....the stars cannot ask...

Then you throw me a kiss.....that I'm trying to catch
I can hear silent laughter......that my heart wants to grasp
     And for a moment together, .... we have silenced the stars....


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She Was a Poem

Trapped in the room 
Her heart was travelling 
To the utmost edge of the world 
Following the stars 
While she was painting 
And writing poems 
Genuine, shy, sweet poems 
Pursuing essential 
Truth and beauty 
And she was a poem too 

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When Jealousy Rears Its Ugly Head

Yesterday I went home for lunch I never go home for lunch When I got to our apartment I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key I reached for the door knob and turned The door was open The moment I entered I knew I froze I could feel it smell it hell I could taste it I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move my lungs were grasping for air for some oxygen but I could barely breathe Leave I told myself but I kept walking Not really walking, it was like a slow motion scene in a movie But this wasn't a movie This was my life and I could feel it slipping away from my grasp I heard noises Francine I had heard those noises a hundred times before they were the sounds of an Angel but this was no heaven this was my own private nightmare The moans traveled through the muck in the air and were amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker It mocked me over and over again Climbing a mountain might have been easier I finally reached the bedroom I knew the moment I entered the apartment Why hadn't I just turned back I could barely see my eyes were covered in layers of salted moisture but I could see her I had never seen him before They were naked in our bed Our bed You'd think the green eyed monster would control my actions from here on in. I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to end up the morning headline in the newspaper. That monster jealousy was by my side but I took charge. I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now. You'd think I would be mad I wasn't You'd think I'd curse and call her whore she wasn't She was just sharing, sharing her body with someone, someone who wasn’t me Being cut open alive must be less painful than this I had done the same countless times before That was so different it felt so harmless the other way around You excuse it rationalize it away But this hacked away at my spirit and tore at my self-worth I spoke I mean my lips moved and words came out I think I think I said I'm not sure it all happened so fast she never spoke I could see the shame on her face she didn't need to speak but but I think I said Sorry I said Sorry and I left I wandered for what seemed hours it was minutes It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer there just wasn't any music anymore I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my heart Like a broken record it was skipping I suffered in my circled steps until I couldn't stand anymore and found just enough strength to return to the apartment I knew she was gone I already felt the emptiness in my frame She was gone She had left a note It said Sorry Sorry! We both were.
Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster

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While I lay

Lying in the enclosed walls of my room
I used to think as I lay all night and day
everyone else around the world
also slumber
But no! all I see is not all there is
Somewhere somehow, at the same time
lies other boys with great imaginations
that keep them awake
Somewhere somehow, its afternoon in
another nation, and within its boundaries
live other passionate savvies making
every moment count
While I make excuses for the time loss
some millennials with the same idea I had
and ignored months ago, are working
tirelessly to make theirs a reality
Somewhere somehow, while I lay wishing
and waiting, an army arises taking fearless
steps like they have nothing to lose
Somewhere somehow, an age mate is
earning so much just by using their talent
for good
While I lay, legends with so much
achievements still lie awake because they
feel there is still so much to do
While I sleep,the clock doesn't.

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At the End of Dr Ram s Words

Yesterday I caught the drift of a word
Almost at the end of Dr. Ram?s words
That I had it all, three in one, with music and no regrets
Stirred my mind and made me think
What regret really means

I suppose Regret is the truant of history
Often sneaking out of the schoolroom of the past to torment present time
...seeking a meek heart to mess with
But time has taught me to be wise
Hence I now know how to turn Regret into a good child
The secret is in offering him the candy of time

The present is just what it means
A present to be justly cherished
If I share it?s gift with the regrets of the past 
Sure, Regret will turn into a good child
And Regret?s deeds will fill my heart with pride

The power is in time
Each a new opportunity eager to be of service 
As soon as yesterday bids bye, today arises to take its place in haste
And it brings in its wake 
...the promise of forgiveness, reconciliation and reconstruction
In each day I find a newer canvas to repaint my dreams
And since yesterday I tried another style and failed
Today I?m that bit wiser
So I will try again with better skill...
To redraw the masterpiece of a life I dream in colours so beautifully vivid

So yes Dr. Ram,
Thanks-a-ram for reminding me how lucky I am
I owe it all to time
For teaching me how to turn Regret into a better child
Filled with lessons which I study 
Tomorrow in my life there?ll be less like his kind

Hey Doc! Thanx-an-awesome-lot 4 the kind words u post of my poems! 
This is especially 4 u!

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Saturday Fight Night

Battered and bruised mommy cries as she tries to cover her black eyes.
But mommy doesn't see daddy as her demise.
One January 25 mommy and daddy awaited as baby arrived.
Smiles of comfort and tears of joy came as so did the baby boy.
Mommy and daddy weren't ready to take care of the child for daddy was still a child.
At heart mommy took all those foul mouth liquor jeers from daddy's mouth but baby didn't 
know what that was about.
Mommy stays with daddy for the child, not realizing that it is doing more harm than 
anything...comes from daddy's mouth and baby takes it in not realizing.  
Flashing lights and sirens ring incredulously one slumber-some December night as baby was 
tucked in tight...while mommy and daddy was going on like it was Saturday fight night.
Baby cries but whose there to hear for mommy and daddy curse and de fouls the baby's ear.
Baby's heart is broken and shattered as mommy is shaken and battered.
Sweet kisses to mend her wounds internal and external but are they sincere from daddy's 
They will never part even though in mommy's heart she wishes daddy would leave forever.
One grief-some January 25 mommy rested never to return for her and daddy went on a 
"Where is mommy", said baby but daddy couldn't talk.
What could he say "I beat mommy till I killed her leaving her internally bruised and brain 
He couldn't say that any way for he was talking to Tiny in cell block five that day.
And baby has no other choice than to realize that his family was nothing more than a mere 
Sirens ring
Sirens ring
Battered and bruised mommy cries for help as she fights for her life.
Because daddy has beat her till her eyes turned dark as night.
It's ironic because baby has become a fighter in Saturday fight night.

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Only you are the one for me

So there’s this boy…he kind of caught my eye.
He makes me smile, and never makes me cry.
So different, from anything I’ve known.
As time progressed, my feelings have grown.
He treats me like no other has ever before, he treats me like I’m gold.
He warms my heart with fire, when it used to be so cold.
Because of him, I see the beauty in me I never thought I had.
He makes me feel wanted, and never gets me mad.
He loves me for who I am, I don't need to pretend.
Oh I thank you haven, hope this feeling never end.
I finally understood what love really meant.
And this boy is sincerely God sent.
We were together always and always together.
Nothing could part us not even a stormy weather.
So we started planning for the future, the things we wanted to do.
And prayed really hard that all our dreams would come true.
One bright day he was on his way to buy me a present.
Our 1st anniversary and he told nobody why he was absent.
I had this sick feeling that something was wrong.
It's been more than 6 hours he has been gone.
Next thing i knew there was an accident.
Somewhere around where he had went.
They found him cold and lifeless on the road.
"It was an accident, he was going so fast..." someone told.
He broke his promise, he said we'd always be together.
Living by each others side forever.
I couldn't believe my eyes, he must be joking.
It's so unexpected so impossible, I started laughing.
They found a necklace in his pocket.
A nice silver chain with heart shaped locket.
He had been rushing to get it for me.
Inside was written "Only you are the one for me".
Tears were falling from my eyes, I couldn't stop myself but cry
Everything was so perfect...Why did you leave me and die?

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Bloody Nightmare

A heart is broken and I am dead
Wondering when this pain will end
My heart will need to mend
Crying out loud screaming through blood
It soaks the floor I collapse in mud
Crawling slowly I cannot breathe
My vision is blurry and now I can't see
I hear a scream and demon bell
The world is now a freezing hell...

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vignette-WHAT'S IN A NAME

Often a parent cannot know
What seeds of anguish they do sow
When a name on offspring they bestow
Teased by army pals whilst abroad
Oscar ,became Claude !
This soldier, painter ,who changed his name,
Later found world-wide fame;
So if you find an Oscar Monet, today
Keep it safe,don't throw it away !

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Dear Friend

From my heart to yours,
you are a precious man,
from the very first time,
I read your work,
it was not hard to understand.
The trials you endured,
the pain, and the tears,
locked away,
you found your Saviour so near.
Let no man or woman,
who dwells on this earth,
spit on a heart so sweet,
all I can say,
is they have the nerve.
Walk tall my friend,
may the wind,
always push you forward,
and pray for the lost,
and the foolish cowards.
I don't know what was said,
or who is to blame,
forgive them dear friend,
and ask for the same.
We as a people,
have a journey of our own,
each, and everyone,
should know right from wrong.
Continue on your path,
you have much to do,
and remember the devil,
will use a few.
I call you friend,
as many here do,
and from my heart to yours,
I wish only the best for you.

Michael Jordan, you are a special kind of man.
One that I am proud to call my friend.......
One if ever needed would not turn his back...
I have never met you, but I can say,
actions speak very strong...for you are willing
to reach out, and me, you have what it takes
to be a lighthouse for others....

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Forever And A Dream

Forever hold these words I say,
let them sleep your heart so deep.
Be you constant at my side, let
not emotions or feelings hide. Be
my conscience of desire, be the 
beating of this heart. Let the days
be forever long, the evenings soft
and nights alluring. Let us be in 
rhyme with love, sate ourselves
of skins sweet glow, pass the kiss
in honesty, and to the heart bliss
bestow. Take these words, take
them deep, for in my soul you
shall sleep. Forever and a dream
you shall always be.

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Wonders of nature,
captured in time,
a blend so perfect,
as the rarest of wines.

A creation so beautiful,
a breathtaking view,
the inspiration of many artist,
as only they knew.

Each masterpiece different,
no two eyes see the same,
as the canvas comes to life,
and long live their names.

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vignette-20th Cntury Man

A world of torment was his stage
His paintings previewed a later age;
Neurosis,depression & death-
Escaping into a dream
Leaving the world with 'a scream'

Edvard Monck (1863-1944) The Scream

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Listen, you see that ?
Listen harder, I know you see it now.
Look over there, quick.
Did you hear that ?
Tell me, if you can see the sound I see.
If you can taste what I feel.
Speak without talking, move without walking.
So many things, with not enough stuff.
Hot not cold, on but off.
Death brings life, to those who are open.
Closure is loneliness, knowledge is light.
Fear is confusing and power is sight.
To answer a problem, you didnt even know.
To speak about places, you didnt even go.
Reading is much, if you know what you read is more.

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Jasmines are flowers of paradise...
an absolute work of God...
sense of the splendid inheritance...
omniscience of God to his servants...
nutrient for the pure of heart.

Nobody can be absolutely...
album, which sets no time...
The love for resemblance does warm the soul...
harmonic songs echo in the life of love audible noise...
actors are like living shadows...
nugget, voice and feelings of those who want to hear...
igneous flame that all travel...
exercise for the imagination of those who observe...
living is not for everyone - only the strong survive.

Birthdays are acts that comprise only a single contemplation...
equivalent to the jasmine garden of the Lord...
host for the coming...
real, for those who know how to love.

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Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away

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He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know

Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.

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Please don't judge me

Please don't judge me based on my religious preference, my hair, what I wear, or how I speak. I can promise you, I'm different than what you'd expect. I don't expect much, though that's still too much. I'm not sure if I like myself as of now, but I'm working on it. If I don't care, you shouldn't either. So you can keep knocking, but won’t knock me down, no love lost, no love found. When you so good, that you can’t say it cuz it isn’t even cool for you to sound cocky anymore,
I am myself nothing more, nothing less.
I wouldn't exactly classify myself as "normal". I can careless what you think of me. I don't like associating with drama queens, troublemakers and just stupid people.
I'm not perfect. To be factual, I'm very far from it. My point of view on things are different than most. I have values. I have a brain; some of you kids should certainly invest in one. I will treat everyone with respect, if they treat me the same in return.
                                         Here is the reply
sometimes people only gain self gratification by making other people seem bad when all they are doing is verbalizing their own shortcomings and pointing them in someone else's direction, they think by redirecting there self image will make others not see who they really are. But if you have brains you can see it and they will not to play into it, then eventually it will all crash down on them :) leaving you shining.

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The Discipline of a Student

Oh Lord, I know you know I have been thanking you a lot lately
But today I want to pray
~~~	~~~	~~~
Almighty Lord
You know me and you know how in life I pine to succeed
I know all that I want
And I know what to do in order to get it all
The will power, emotional power, confidence... certainty
...and all that entails the achievement of a dream
But there is one thing I specifically need
For with it my success is guaranteed

Almighty Lord
Please give me the discipline of a student
Please make me endear my keenest efforts on my chief pursuits
Just as though I’m about to sit for an exam... for I know in a way I am

Please give me the sense to properly manage my time
And take from my heart the desire to waste time 
...and the vice of procrastination
In its place fill me with the fear of punishment and failure
...if I go about work like a truant does
...spending too much money here... and too much time there

Please sharpen my focus like that of a student aiming for that higher diploma...
...knowing the realisation of it will chance him a higher degree
Help me aptly execute the duties entrusted unto me
For its exceptionality will lift me to the reach of even higher doors

Almighty, please fill me with the discipline of a student
To sacrifice my little peer pleasures now... and invest all my heart into my pursuits
Knowing all too well that as that an empowering reality awaits me the end of my truest efforts

Help me to be honest with myself
...knowing that all I do now first of all for my own benefit
And that if I do it so well
It will benefit and inspire even many more to garner more of their potentials

Now my Almighty Lord,
Think of this as a business proposal
I have the dream and capability
You have the power over reality
If you take my dream and capability seriously 
...and assist me with your power over reality
Very soon I will succeed, and there will be many wanting to be like me
All these shall be to your gain too for I shall direct them your way as proof
So you see Lord, your help and my efforts will tomorrow make us both a happier lot 
Think about it
~~~	~~~	~~~
Mhmm...  Who am I kidding, I know you did think about it and that’s why you 
decided to make me live
Thanks Lord

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My Heart

My heart is yours,
come dream with me,
away from the struggles,
to a place of ease.

My heart is yours,
please keep it safe,
show it love,
never hate.

My heart is yours,

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The People Around Me

Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.

Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.

My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered. 

In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised, 
But it is to be called someone, 
Who can be respected.

To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.

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New Paths

A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...

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The Artist

The Artist

Once described as an intense artist
He now sits comfortably
Patiently being interviewed 
By a reporter
Half his age
He begins
When I was a younger
I would come home from school
To an empty apartment
To keep myself occupied 
Until my mother came home 
I would spend hours 
Drawing random sketches 
And imaginary shapes in a notebook
That I kept hidden behind a couch
My mind was full of images
I was young
I was vulnerable
It wasn’t until
I got much older
That I decided to study art.

Speaking softly, he continues
People respect art and imagination
But recognition for an artist has a life of its own 
An artist must push himself to do 
What he hasn’t done before
But art is complicated 
What often comes with it 
Is all extraneous stuff
Which you try to control 
Before it consumes you.

The interview
And the questions ended hours ago
Returning home
The artist gazes out his bedroom window
The Greek Orthodox   
Dome of St. George 
Maintains a stoic vigil
Over the East Village
Facing upward
Toward the dusky sky
Light from an open window 
Highlights his forehead
Drifting down to his lips
Gradually disappearing
Near his open collar
Only to resurface
In the middle of his shirt
Hands, calloused and strong,
Are down by his side
The left touching his thigh
The right hand dangling in freedom
Deep lines furrow his face
Shadows under his eyes
Mark a life spent
Perfecting his craft.

In the silence
He takes a deep breathe
That the Roman in his heart  
Always unwavering
Prideful and defiant
Never surrendered
A day of his life.

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Feelings Have Lips

My friend
I live in your body with wishes i never existed
You killed my vibe when you felt i had no feelings for your feelings
I’m a prisoner in your conscious
How can i not be when your eyes constantly pee less tears
Stop waking me in dark streets
For i know it’s another girl’s peace

I care not of your power cravings 
Please stop barking my silence with your anger symptoms
I care less of your less fortunate fortunes
I was named emotional reaction for real reasons
Stop confusing me with obligated connections

I feel what you choose to feel
I approve not of your violent nickname skills
Serial thigh breaker sins 
Occasional house breaker stinks

You accept none of my guilty conscious messages
Your heart server always fall short
I demand parole to this invisible jail sentence
My patience is turning pale
Heavier than what’s between your legs in a scale

You break bones of a silent soft thinker
I break chains of well painted pictures
My heart glows in the dark
For you kidnapped me in your conscious

I am just feelings connected to your heart
Let me loose please 

(c) Ray

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Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito 
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches 

Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved

Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities? 
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.

Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen 
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.

How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism 
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners 
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo

Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro 

May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din

As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away' 
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?” 
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino” 
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism

Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas 
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks 

I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin 
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta

Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas 
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika

‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it

Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago 
The name of people is Tausug. 
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam 
Is already a nation and state 
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja

Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law

I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts 
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.

I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it 
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.

This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!

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My Heart And Soul

~ There is a painting at the art gallery I have a strong affection for It is a man that calls me from the past In the year 1670 lived this nobleman Long dark hair falls to his shoulders A strong face with fathomless eyes Eyes full a passion and desire He does not smile, yet I adore him I want to reach out to him He seems to see me, beckon to me Come to me he whispers Aristocratic is his demeanor, dignified O, but could I step within the frame Be in his world, in his time We would hold hands in silence For he would know without question My heart and soul are his forever ~ Written by Constance La France November 11, 2012

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We Are There With You

You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home

5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.

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Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned 

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Miley Cyrus

Miles distant worlds apart 
I, when I intoned my song in your reality 
Lives, approached in paradise 
Excitation of neurons led me to your world. 
Yes, now we share the same course, the same system. 
Circus, this is what the people need. 
Yes, to flow through the foolishness of the message to wake up the world. 
Rhyme for me does not exist in the word but in the sense 
Unarmed in an insane world 
Sacrifice to decode the message that comes from afar.

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Buildin' Birds

Buildin’ Birds…

Your hands dart and weave
In, out, up.. then hover
Swoop right… then left

As simply as sight 
Of a birds dreamy flight
Floating to perch proud on rocky cleft

Subtle magic’s paint
Concept, thought to Action
Life wrought from death

As eloquently as the Master 
Reaches out from the hereafter 
And grants the unborn gift of breath

Chaos now cornered
Seeks out surge, hands direct
And collar by will

And just as Angels acting
So precise, measured, and exacting
Leave scarce a ripple on waters still

Trumpet Grande Crescendo 
Labors love ushered in 
A diamond from primal smolder

A new winged gift to grace us
Snatched still in pristine stasis
To soar in the eye of the beholder

I wrote this poem after peeping through the doorway of my wife Nancy’s workspace as she 
crafted her beautiful bird sculptures. I was utterly amazed at the delicate movements she so 
gracefully employed to wring creations that seemed to capture a split second of nature so 
completely as to cause the beholder the illusion that she had somehow stopped time. 
Literally, a hummingbird caught between the beats of its wing for one to marvel at.  Of all 
Nancy’s creative endeavors I still rank her “Buildin’ Birds” as her paramount artistic 

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Your Name

My breath is short for you Milly
As my eyes exude for you Yannick
I will not flee Molly
In order to achieve the desires of Irene
For loads in your face time Retha
Brilliantly as Robert
So that the color does not come out of thee Orabel
And I see their faces in the morning Raelyn
And take what is really important Idony
Calm of nature as Serena
And marvel at its beauty Yolanda
Go beyond thrilled with the universe Oda
Power conferred on it by Ula
I admire Maybelle,
And the essence I glorify Yieshah.
Place purity of soul thou Linnet
The LORD be with you Ora
In the fortress of Valarie
And make life as Eda.

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I cry for you

The tears I shed are not tears of pain but of grief for you my love. As life would have it or fait at least; you lost at what could have been. Really what should have been!
I know what you truly deserve and it's not me or the poor background of which I've come from. Your friends have managed to find wives with wealth and retirement. While all you can do is carry the load as you always do.
Do not think for an instant my heart isn't hurting; knowing I'm not good enough, never have been, and never will be. I can never catch up in life and will never be an equal. At no time is this far from my mind.
I used to think love was all that mattered but now I have grown up and realize how much more there is to life. A fine line drawn in the sand from the beginning has set us apart and down separate paths. Together yet not as one; this was never to be for our lives were directed by poverty and riches.
Was I selfish to want you? I did not understand then as I do now. Now knowing what I know, I cry for you my love. You could have carried on finding that special one to share all of you with. No lines drawn, no poverty or riches to separate. No tears shed or grief knowing ones' not good enough!
What's ahead as each day passes I wait to see. God has a plan, everything happens for a reason. A new job with more money, yet not even this erases the line. Not for my life of such little means even this can't bind a heart set on a different path?
Debbie Knapp

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You're my Star

hey there,
You have lighted up my world..
Now you're the one I am dreaming of
Dont you know,
I can sit here forever,
Just looking into your eyes?
The things I see there
Always take me by surprise
but I don't see you coming...
I see you standing there;
so close but still barely out of reach;
I want to be closer to you,
so I'm on my way...
I will be missing you
I will be missing the places we used to know..
wish i could carry you with me
I hope I make you a little happy too
I am not saying goodbye
I know I'll see you again
I would be crying in that strange city
and you wouldnt be there..
but I will carry on..

6.22.11 (my goodbye poem before I boarded the plane)

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Indefinite Love

I saw a young lady who was so perfect that she made my heart beat
I could not figure it out and now I really don't know I had to take a seat
She smiled like an angel in the heavens with glorious blinding teeth
She seems so kind and full of life and never put people beneath
I do not have a bad thought or a moment without any ease
I notice that because she pulled me up and smiled with a tease
She kept things close to her like my hand and my heart
She knew that I was just the man that gave her a good start
I never had a thought of leaving because of a fight
I will never part with her because she is my sight
She looks forward at all times and never looks back
She knows how I am if some one would hurt her I would attack
I will never leave her side with out her knowing she is safe and sound
I am the man of her dreams I will never let her down hard on any ground
She loves me with all her heart and I know this because she gives me the look
She knew how long I waited for her to notice me, I remember it was long time it took
I waited by her side when she was ill and could not walk 
I held her hand and made her smile when I told her I love her, when I talk
She noticed it in my voice the feelings with care
She never looked at me in a blank stare

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The Bells

~~ In an old Victorian building lives two cats and a lady The girl cat is Patches and the boy cat is called Peanut And the lady is called Dear Heart, they all live in harmony One day, Dear Heart decided the cats needed to have collars So she bought a pink one for Patches and a blue one for Peanut Each collar had a little bell that tinkled and tinkled as the cats walked Now, Patches loved her collar but Peanut twisted about He flopped on his back, putting his paws inside the blue collar Finally, the bell fell off and he pounced after it across the room As Patches walked around her little bell went tinkle, tinkle, tinkle Peanut was determined to get that bell and became quiet the pest Dear Heart talked to Peanut telling him to stop and leave the bell alone When Dear Heart came home from work the cats came She reached to stroke Patches and noticed the pink collar The bell was missing, she looked at Peanut, bad cat she said Where the bells went is still a mystery that may stay unsolved Patches still has her pink collar, she likes to show it off for visitors Peanut totalled destroyed his within days and was very proud of that Written by Constance La France October 27, 2012 Narrative In Memory of Peanut the Cat

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Words From The Heart

Words From The Heart

When I fell in love my heart was on fire
To be with you was my one desire
And if you love me I’ll give you everything you need
A lifetime of promises and a world full of dreams
For only my heart knows what it means
And I promise you it won’t be wrong
One love, two hearts we will make it strong,
But now my love is lost in your sweet kiss
Honey when I’m alone you’re the one I miss
And your sweet, tender love it hard to resist
Darling it's true my heart has fallen in love with you
Looking upon the stars tonight wishing with all my might
Hoping someday you will realize this passion I hold inside
Honey it doesn’t cost a dime.
And if you give in your love could be mine
I feel truly blessed for this feeling the Lord has given me
Accompany by faith and much understanding
And I know this gift will guide me for all eternity
As my heart fly by with angel wings
And the clouds form into wedding rings
A woman in love the angels sing
On and on a soft melody
That’s how it feels to be in love like me.
For thoughts from the heart are never ending

Source: Words From The Heart, Sweet Love Poem

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Unspoken Words Unwept Tears

Unspoken Words Unwept Tears
Thoughts locked away and tears that fall no more.

The things tucked away that can no longer reach the surface are things that bring 
such pain one would think they are going to die. There’s a place that holds all the 
secrets so far out of reach the mind can no longer tell if they or even real. There 
was a time when things were spoken aloud and thoughts took on real meaning.

I would whisper to you and beg you to listen to my heart and my needs. I wanted 
you to look through my eyes. My whispers went unheard so I cried and pleaded 
with you, won’t you hear me? I need you to do as you promised…This did not work 
so I bargained and threatened. My tears soaked my pillow night after night. I cried 
in the quiet with no one to hear!

 You said, “You loved me and I would always come first”. What happened? I love 
you and cannot understand. My heart has been torn to the core and my eyes 
blurred with searing pain. The disbelief of such agonizing grief has scarred not only 
my heart and eyes but my mind as well!

I just can’t argue anymore or try to make you see things my way. I thought I was 
what you wanted, I was good enough for and you trusted me. I trusted you: 
trusted that you loved me and that was all I needed know…

I can’t allow myself to think of these things that have been tucked away or allow 
myself to cry any longer. My time was spent this way day after day and night after 
night till I locked this part away. Now when I scream it is in silent only from within. It 
never makes it to the surface. The tears that used to fall only wet my heart and fill 
the cracks. They fall no more! 


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The Painting

~~ The art gallery was deserted as I wandered the rooms Contemplating quietly alone and peacefulness was mine Stopping at a painting of a lone woman, I gazed at her face Eyes that looked sad, much like mine and as I looked, I wished She looked so heavenly but she wore her deep sadness I could feel her pain, O, if I could but step within the frame And in a blink, I was transported and was within the painting I looked out at myself, a girl with sad and fathomless seeking eyes My gown within the frame was quite lovely, soft and rich A forest green velvet creation with white lace peaking out I sat on a gilded chair and on my lap lay a white mink fur coat My hand stroked the fur in my sadness, it seems I was going outside Behind me was a window view of a frozen lake and stark trees Storm clouds gathering in the sky, I shivered, the year was 1817 I felt elegant, my hair falling in waves, cascading down to my waist But the deep sadness within my soul was overwhelming, tears flowing I was a girl, so vintage in her style with sleek long hair Standing in the gallery, in front of the painting of the lone woman Slowly, I walked away but the sadness within my soul still remained And I knew forever and ever that this painting would haunt my days Written by Constance La France October 28, 2012 Narrative Inspired by the painting Henriette Le Moine (1817) Painted by Theophile Hamel National Gallery of Canada

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My Fantasy, My Husband

My Fantasy, My Husband July 25, 2011
As a child I had a dream, was’ such a fantasy only a princess in a fairytale surely 
dreamt such things! In my heart he dwelled; this prince my dream, my fantasy I 
knew so well. My mind filled with thoughts of him day and night for our souls 
touched in the night as I lay dreaming.
Life happens and everything in it for a reason. Having lost so much my baby in 
heaven, my boys gone with their father, my heart’s broken! I lost all that I ever held 
close now memories for this princess who once had a dream.
He exits the elevator and comes my way. I hope he stops to talk even if my boss 
said to stay away from him. Once more, I have begun to dream and my fantasies 
have come back to life. He dwelled in my heart as a child when I lay dreaming. This 
is my prince, my fantasy the one whose soul touched mine. My prince and I shall be 
his princess!
People say we are too different; he would not ever marry you. Life and 
circumstances are all against us. He is a wealthy, smart doctor. You are poor and 
have no degree. What could he see in you or could you have in common? 
Soul mates now together as one in my dream, my fantasy my fairytale alive and 
true. My husband, My Prince surrounds me with love not caring what others might 
say or think. Together as one, I continue to dream and share all life’s fantasies one 
by one.
				                    Debbie Knapp /Princess

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Spirit and Faith

Spirit and Faith
I never walk alone no matter where I go. My thoughts never go unheard nor do my 
whispers fall on deaf ears. Always by my side waiting to hear my every thought and 
holding me close at all times. 
The things I whisper the wind carries as if to tell all the world there is a secret 
stirring in the breeze. You see my thoughts and whispers are set free. No I am 
never alone.

I have a warm feeling that surrounds and fills me with beautiful thoughts. I see 
exciting things everywhere I look and know they are to remind me of what is known 
within my heart and saved deep inside my mind. Somehow I know something more 
spectacular is to come.

Together we travel this life and hold each other to light the path and guide the way. 
Comfort comes from knowing, feeling, and sensing these things not shared with 
others. Instinct I say, “Just a gut feeling”, but beside me, although those around me 
are unaware ~ I never walk alone! 

Soaring with love bound by heaven bringing intuition, wisdom and passion keeping 
us connected stronger than any imagined emotion or dream. I know and feel life 
lessons from sensing, acquiring and accumulating knowledge given gently as you 
are forever influencing there beside me. Walk with me and keep me safe as you 
open my window of curiosity with insight, reassuring with a peek of what’s on the 
other side. Every beat of my heart and color of my soul follows a journey filled with 
open-mindedness and love. 

Knowing your there holding my dreams and safeguarding my heart with love gives 
me the strength to follow unknown paths. Courage is being gently guided over 
stepping stones with Intuition and held up as you walk by my side.   

                                                                                                     Debbie Knapp.

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My Living Painting

“Where is it?” I asked the art dealer with no preamble whatsoever. The tears were about to spill down my cheeks, and I found it hard to get the words past the lump in my throat. He sensed it.

He looked down at me from his studio balcony. “I sold it.”

I turned away and ran towards my car, the grief eating away at my soul as the tears now gushed down needing release. Why had I waited? It was too late. Too late.

At home, I flung myself on the living room couch and through sobs, told my husband what had happened. He looked at me dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what that painting meant to me. 
He had been away on one of his many trips when I had passed by the art studio and seen the painting. Perhaps anyone else would have found it plain, not outstanding, not heart stopping, but for the first time, a painting actually spoke to my heart.  I was enthralled by the image of a wooden door of a typical Cypriot village home- just a door but cascading down around it was a spray of fuchsia bougainvillea, my favorite flower. The contrast of the colors of the door, the wall, and that spray of heavenly flowers was simply overwhelming. I loved everything quaint…the lovely villages of Cyprus, the cobblestone streets, the picturesque homes. My heart mourned. It would not be comforted.

Why hadn't I just written a check? Why had I waited to ask for permission when I knew how badly I wanted that painting to be hung on my wall, feeding my soul every day with beauty? Why had I been naive enough to tell the art dealer that every time I passed by the window, my heart would beat in a frenzy, for after that, he had placed it in the very front of the display window. Now it was gone. FOREVER.

Time passed. Every time I remembered my painting, my heart bled. I moved to Lebanon. You can never know how overwhelmed I was when I first saw the backyard of my new home, for there were TWO fuchsia bougainvillea trees, the branches of one reaching down to almost touch my dining room window. 

My heart sings everyday, for these flowers are not captured on canvas, they live. The flowers dance and sway with the breeze, contrasting with the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, and the brown of the pine tree trunks. I look at the spray of glorious flowers, and my soul is fed by my loving God.

Persian Proverb by Saadi: 

“If of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left
Sell one and from the dole
Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul”

Eileen G

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Beauty of the Heart

Your love to me I am on fire.
My desire of the heart it feels.
Your words I hear your voice among them.
I reach out to touch but can not feel.
My empitness of life the void of image I see.
A beauty before my grace I fall to my knees.
My tears they drench in sorrow.
The belove I hold near my heart in dreams.
But only in hopes of tomorrows do I love.
But my every desire to touch and hold you close.
It is my dream to love once more deep in my soul.
But never be alone in darkness and always be love in heart.

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Why Can't I Be Young, Rich and Thin

That answer to that is painfully simple: I’m a disabled, thirty-something individual with compromised mobility…and I’m a lazy S.O.B...

But, oh, how I fantasize! And loath am I to torture myself by looking at all the exquisite, fabulous fashion creations by Versace, Comme Des Garcons, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood; elegant creations I will never be able to wear, let alone afford. Though I enjoy being a man and would have it no other way, I envy women and sometimes wish I was one, just so I could wear a Versace gown, even if it were just to take out the trash.

I worship fashion and models; they are my demigods. They embody all that is outwardly beautiful. I don’t mind the shallowness of it. I wish I was Coco Rocha, Naomi Campbell, Janice Dickinson, Linda Evangelista, Tyra Banks, Milla Jovovich, all rolled into one. I wish I could strut and stomp the catwalk; to pound the runway in some outrageous creation by Rei Kawakubo. To jet-set to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, London…! I would die and go to fashion heaven, and see Gianni, and I would be his Muse. Poor, Gianni; why did that bastard kill you? Genius was lost that day and fashion has since suffered in your absence.

I wish I was as skillful with sewing as I am with words; since I’ll never be a model, I’d at least like to design clothes that would echo my influences. A mesh of the sex of Versace, the elegance of Missoni, the insane artistic destruction and anti-fashion of Comme des Garcons and the hipness of Vivienne Westwood; yes, that would be my style, as my poetry echoes Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson. 

But, alas and alas again! For these are all but mere dreams and fantasies that shall never be fulfilled! But a gay boy can dream, can’t he?

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The Singer (Narrative Dialogue)

The singer looks at the now empty stage
His voice guarded deep in his warm throat
Shielded by a high neck shirt he wore
Singing with passion from down within
Rehearsing day and night until it’s right
Blended rhythms and notes run the scales
Clinging in smoky night clubs like a shadow
Getting your pay with crumbled dollar bills
Go from gig to gig if it makes you whole
Your songs will make them dance and spin
Like a magic spell being cast far and wide
Allow your words to heal wounds and scars
And when you have earned your keep
Collect the spoils from your conquest sweet
Gobbled champagne and fancy caviars
And your heart beats crashed musical chart
Find the singer who was once loved
The brilliant heart that once lived in joy
Consider yourself a singer without a heart
Who has traded his soul from the start
As it ends the conquest will lose its spark
Come to your senses and stop this slide
You may be witted and sharp as a tack
Don’t get eluded and slip—stay on track

Comments:  This is a narrative dialogue poem.  It sets the stage one may 
probably find in a conflicting situation. It develops into a complication, reaches a 
crisis then falls into a resolution.  It displays connections, alienation, 
disconnections, and a turning point where a change takes place between a 
protagonist and antagonist. The ending brings about a resolution after a 
dramatic point has been reached.  Give it a try one day, and I will give it a review 
for you.  It must be very interesting and relates to real life.

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You must go,yes!
Go against slumber,
When even early birds ignore worms,
But the falling thorns purnish gurus
As the roaming anti-mother blanket kills faint gurulings.
Here we march marshals,
Along grumbling swift paces,we shall!
Walking-yarn appetises expectations,
Since many paths leads to the road.
Diverging to coverge,we must!
As swarming of the apocalyptic plague of the book,
Brushing along all along that belongs,
Into the shipping tower,we all plunge.
Now blinking sea-eyes of a naked mind,
All beholding spoons for a bloodless war.
Its too late to retrieve and hot to hold.
An often dreaded monster you face,
Must in "Government call" retire.
Yes! warm to hum,
like a soldier into war,
triumphant but not victorious.
When asked why? we say,
this is the ROAD TO FSLT.
                         BY:TUTUOLA MICHAEL

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Thirsting Heart Beats

Thirsting Heart Beats
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears

During a moment in your deepest desires
do I ever cross your thoughts in mind 
for rehire,
while you’re clutching on your sheets of fire
cold and lonely
wanting to hold me
throughout the night
awaking into several dreams of a separation
without me 
in your life
This is bought to a reality
by a lack of understanding
of a heart given in entirety 
my love, my compassion, my good times
you insisted it was all a lie
I never claimed a proclamation of perfect
I’m wrapped in your bundle of hurting and burdens 
from opposed late love
bad decisions
hoping and wishing
that all is not lost 
in the cause of two wrongs
that were never made right
giving no guarantees
so what we adore 
is always subject to a slip,
beneath our feet and on the way down
we reach a thirsting heart 
that beats loneliness.

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Even the Hurricane has a Heart

Violent, disastrous, ruthless, merciless
Such words come to mind when one thinks of a hurricane
Destroying anything and everything on its way
Paying no care to the efforts and time invested in that reality
Paying no care to the pain and adversity it leaves behind
Intent to proclaim its superiority at the highest possible cost

...But even a hurricane in all its angered fury
	...has a heart
...and a hurricane’s heart is usually so calm 
...unperturbed by what is going on around it
While its fury whirls around violently destroying
...right in the middle of it, the heart is calm and peaceful

Times will certainly come as rain is bound to drop
...when you will be faced by many challenges
...and it will be like a hurricane has descended on you
In such times, seek the heart of the hurricane at the very centre of it, and you will be fine
...for even a hurricane obeys time
Soon it will exhaust its rage
...and it will be reduced to a mere breeze
	...incapable of harming even a twig

All troubles are seasonal
They may come with storms and thunder
...but soon they’ll be gone
...they’ll be reduced to mere references in the past

Don’t take troubles as personal
Just take them as the experiences of life from which you learn
Each of us must pass through that class
Question is... will you fail or will you pass the exams
The key to passing is tolerance, patience, and understanding

The greatest blessing in life is the MIND
The heart is always weak and irrational
...thus it cannot be trusted to bring happiness that lasts
Empower your mind and use it when in need
When trouble persists, there is only one place to exist
...Ahead in your dreams
Always think of tomorrow when it’ll all be gone
And you’ll own as many happy feelings as your heart will want
Never let your emotions tackle your problems
Always call onto the three minds that govern all life
Your Conscious Mind with which you think
Your Subconscious Mind which turns your thoughts and dreams into reality
And the Super Infinite Mind (God) that has no troubles of its own,
...and is always willing to help you triumph over yours
Dedication to my dear friend Andrea

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My Song of Painful Plea

Suddenly,wild flames thud out
Of our little kerosene lamp
Mocking flames danced on me
With expertise. their hungry mouths
Ate my perfumed flesh in glee
My manful cries went heaven high
That aunt Priscilla came running wild 
That Wednesday night of 10 November
Began my song of painful plea

Goat burnt skin as soft plum peeled
Sneering scissors thrust stubborn gauze and 
Red rain rush quickly out, then
When on it iodine oil is released 
Tormenting pains my body feel it's when
I begin, my songs of painful plea

My mouth tore in anguished laughter
Myself been prisoner of frustrating pains
When my eyes beheld my white hands
And my skin embellished with ugly scars
My soul  could not but raise that song
My song of painful plea

My song of painful plea
Echoes loud across the sky
For my heart made fragments
Of peaceful past, and a 
Library of scars in each tiny half
My heart will take no more
For I've done no wrong
Let happiness be a distant dream
To them who adulterated our kerosene.
My song of painful plea.

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I am silent
I am trembling
I am singing
I am dreaming
And waiting
Under blue sky`s veil
To see some poem`s trail

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The escape route

Down many of the coalmines in Yorkshire , Safety dictated that an alternative means of escape
had to be found just in case anything ever happened to the shafts that raised and lowered miners to their work.
This usually involved keeping a single route open underground to the next nearest colliery .

Old George waiting by the mineshaft 
Spitting his chewing tobacco juice 
Today with his apprentice 
They must survey the mines escape route . 

1000 yards underground  
In darkness as black as pitch 
They reach up to their helmets
Turning on the headlamp switch.

George prodding at the timbers 
That support the roof and sides
His apprentice grows more nervous
With every single stride .

A mile down the escape route 
The roof is seven feet high
They see a little fallen rock
but manage to squeeze by .

The roof is getting lower
George hears the scurrying of mice 
Brought down the mine in bales of hay
When pit ponies and the miners destiny were spliced.

The apprentice is visibly shaking 
but only one more mile to go 
When a piece of falling timber 
Dealt his torch battery a glancing blow.

George could see the boys panic
and as the leader of his team 
He reassured his apprentice
Then they shared the single beam .

Suddenly they hear a crack like thunder
Then the splintering of wood 
George pushes his apprentice 
but a fall of rock stands where George stood.

Young boy on his hands and knee's
Screaming Georges name
More terrified by the second 
When no answers came.

Now in total blackness 
He inhabits the world of the blind 
If he is to help his leader
The boy must use his senses and his mind .

The faintest hint of breezes
He feels on his face 
Air sucked down the mineshaft
Just might be his saving grace 

He crawls along the jagged floor 
Using his sense of touch 
Soon in the distance he hears machinery
A sound he has never loved so much .

He tastes the ever freshening air
Hope inside him grows
Then the tiniest speck of flickering light
His tears overflow. 

Help,  Help,  he's calling 
As the miners come into view
Two men want to hep him to the surface 
Burt he awaits his friends rescue.

Old George didn't make it 
He sacrificed himself to save the boy
Broken hearted the boy had a breakdown 
and had to leave the mines employ.

The boy became a father 
Then a wonderful granddad 
but he never tired of telling the story
of the best friend he ever had.

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In memory of Bob

In memory of Bob
A true story.

It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.

     There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.

      As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya  going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and  somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.

      I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life,  that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long,  ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.

     Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.

     Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain,  but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.

   His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.

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Squirrel, What is a Friend

It was a green semi-dry oak leaf,
 last and youngest of the family.
 She did not want to fall
 as she stared at the heinous wind
 on a cold night in late fall

Maybe it was best to jump down,
 since it’s been long
 after her family bade farewell.
 “Oh loneliness!” she mused, “you’re unbearable”
 “I can not breath, nor can I smell”

Pretty soon, a squirreled showed up
 hungry but,gleeful.
 “Oh God! why do you look so scared?”
 he asked in all his mischievous curiosity
 She replied,”I’m an orphan,lonely and snared.”
 “Wind is treacherous and life is no fun any more.”

“No! don’t say that li’l leaflet.”
 “You are so fresh,but rookie,” said the squirrel,
 “You’ll have many friends in rest of your life”
 “What is a friend?” asked the leaf
 while her desire to learn was rife

“A friend is a warm hand,
 clutching your hand in depth of the storm…
 A friend is the one who cried
 once your heart writhed in pain,” said the squirrel
 The tiny leaf smiled as her tears dried

“So, do you feel my agony in my heart now?”
 “I truly do!” replied the squirrel
 Just then a gust pulled and drifted the leaf away
 The squirrel shed tears as repined
 while she yelled “Do not cry, squirrel!”
 “Now, at least I have a friend behind”

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The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.

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Slowly I knock on your invisible door.

Listening for your cold heart and I wait

The silence comforts me and your heart is asleep

I pick up the invisible glass of your blood

It is drunk slowly as I taste and the savors

I don't have to be quiet but I am a Mime

I should have screwed my silencer on my gun

 I wait at your door and hope you will see me

Amidst the shadows like wallpaper I hang

A single tear rolls on my whitened cheek and the glisten

I  watch with an incredible ache as he comes in and the sadness

I gladly tap him on his shoulder so we can dance and I long

But I am not noticed and I shudder and yet I keep watch

And the pain

I see you again in the subway as I do tricks and my cup

My faithful cup filled with memories and coins

Coins that i can never use

I have no pockets to keep my feelings in and the coins

I slowly move and  bravely part my lips

I gently and silently kiss your sleeping lips but am left bitter

Tomorrow i will do more of the same

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don't be afraid

I live to please you, 
I live to see the best in you
You and I are the best match
Havens have open mountains
Heavy rains ought to end us
But don’t be afraid

I have created tents to keep you safe
The safest place for you is in my heart
Where only my thoughts and blood play
My blood oozes with oxygen and love
Don’t be afraid this love is forever

I have devoted all my love to you
The clouds have surrendered its beauty for us
This is all for you
So don’t be afraid

This is the love that children will fantasizes 
This is the love that you wished for
Your wishes have come true

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Scarlet Portmanteau

Duke Luke by his bateau
Arrived at his chateau,
Had he travelled through large eau!

His mysterious rendez-vous 
with Henry Thoreau
Yielded him a scarlet portmanteau.

Entering his bureau,
he took off his manteau
and opened the portmanteau:

The Snow Man was inside
And though not well could he sing,
Sang he a song of himself:

Stopping by woods on a snowy evening
He met Annabel Lee on a large shelf,
Frightened he was by the raven
And took the road not taken:

Crossed he the mending wall
And hearing the anecdote of the jar
To noble savage Billy Budd an honest fare he paid

Large and far
Travelled he
From spring to fall

Self-reliance: the idea he hath
The American Scholar guided his path;

He slept a long time
In a clean well-lighted place;

One winter he woke up
In a station of the metro:
He fastened his tender buttons
and found a red wheelbarrow;
'No ideas but in things' -
A lovely image this brings!

To his disappointment and sorrow,
He never saw the snows of Kilimanjaro.

Duke Luke in disbelief
Wiped his eyes
And pinched his ears;

The Snow Man disappeared.

Duke Luke
Took a look 
At his portmanteau
In hopes of seeing something

He found


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We met in Heaven and  hung in freedom

Laying in fields of clover and joy

Just thoughts and unable to express our love

You were wonderful and I called you Beauty


God met with us and readied

You will go where I send and wait

I had forgotten you until prayer

It was then I heard you calling


I saw you in my dreams and danced again

Tried to recall but there were no answers

I picked you and you picked me

But it was cloudy there


Your eminence diminished and the shining

We promised to wait until GOD sent his signal

And I waited at the crossroad

My lovely came to me and whispered

Well met

I saw you walking across the lawn

You caught me and the photos

My heart was full and the snapping and flash

I remembered and thanked God

My lovely

The wedding came and love

The rice was thrown but you

Always you and your warm hands

The heart which I waited took


We were well met

But we had to go our separate

It wasn't convenient

Silently and moving

Love was placed in the freezer


Return to me

Our love can be thawed

We can baste and nurture

You bring the best of me


And the leaves crushed

Water boiling and rolling

Only the finest China

We were freshly brewed

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Precious Moments

                       I didn't know hearts could speak until we crossed part
               I was walking home, carrying a heart laden with the grief of my brother’s death
                      My mind straddling from the nostalgia of our bonded brotherhood 
                      to the thought of what the afterlife would deal him.
               You were seated at a secluded corner, carrying your hearts in your hands
               And crying out your eyeballs, wishing if God could bring back your father’s life.

      Upon that lonely and rejected wood we, dejected souls, sat cursing out death tirelessly
         For taking away our beloved brother and father.
           That day, I heard my heart speak for the first time; my heart exploded in awe
             And I felt I was captured under a spell; I saw the aura of glory in your eyes.
        It wasn’t your exquisite awe-inspiring beauty that got me lovey-dovey
        But the natural calmness in your voice as you told me your stories. 
          You reminded me of the fabled Arabian princess.
       My emotions turned into Janus- one reminding me of a lost brother
       The other, quite domineering, nudging me in my veins never to let you go.
          You saw the magic in my eyes; you felt the same way I felt
             We were marveled that fate brought us to meet on a lonely path.

    With your amazing pieces of cakes you re-awakened my dead love life on your birthday
   Your cakes were brilliant; you made them from magnificent range of fruits and spices
   The smells were superb. The aromatic smells of the cakes cooking in the oven and smearing your kitchen sent us to an early bubbly romance. 
   We became lovebirds; your crystal steaming room, neatly furnished with vitality bed,,  made for only two- us, was our love nest; we enjoyed every of our love bites.
    That night, you made a tipsy cake; we dined and wined while the stars watched over us
      We sang to our ears; every single love song we played, we made ours
      We danced while we got intoxicated on our own supply
      And before our eyes the night closed its nocturnal doors.

     Under your winter blanket were two figures, glued in carnal brash adventure, wishing the moment would never end. 
       I prayed tomorrow never to come. Alas! Uninvited, the Morning woke tomorrow up
       Under the blanket, we watched the sun set.
    But tomorrow came Janus-faced; with a vice we never wished for- impassioned jealousy
       It tore us apart; pulled us away; and took away our precious moments
    But I still carry in my heart those precious moments.

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The sky looks dull
the wind feels dry
gloominess, i see 
when i pass by

the trees stay still
and birds sleep long
in this town of gloominess
i once belonged

heading my way home
i cant find that street
where i carved my name
on a huge hollow tree

have they left and gone? 
did they take my tree? 
which i myself grew, with that little seed.

i call out for people
a passing girl i see
and shout to her the utmost
hoping she hears me
no one, ever replies 
how arrogant human being

my heart beats fast
i feel lone and tensed
my reflection i cant see
and the wind i dont feel
people dont reply
and now i know why...

the clouds rain and shower
the birds fly away
people in their houses
and im on my dead way

where the days arent bright
and the star dont shine at night
the wind u never feel
and a heart not capable to heal. 

Manahil shafiq 

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My Mother

MY MOTHER          
Mother more than just a word; my mother is where my life began. My mother 
protected me from the world bonding together from the beginning. Safely tucked 
away I would spend the next nine months listening to her heart beat, gently 
floating in water. Our blood would mix and nourishment she supplied to me. 
My world and hers suddenly changed when my birth came about. No matter the pain 
we both endured, comfort quickly came as I found my way into her arms! Together 
we would make our way in this world as nothing compares to the love of my mother.
We listened to the birds singing, watched the lightning bugs, and talked of things 
on earth and heaven. My mother taught me love and gentleness’. Early in life I 
developed a sixth sense. I knew, “I had a guardian angel” and “God was always 
with me”.
Growing up was not so easy and I made many mistakes. Many times I did not 
understand my mother and swore she could not love me. I was looking through the 
eyes of a child and did not look through hers till aged and wiser!
My mother continued to love me forgiving my blunders in life for we bonded early 
when my heart first began to beat. With the passing of time my mother proud and 
supportive always tells me of her love for me. At times when I look in the mirror, 
looking back at me is my mother!
 I know life as I know one day may end however; my mother and I having shared 
life from the start will always be bonded in the heart. My mother gave from her 
heart and soul. Now to you my mother, in your honor; I dedicate and give this poem 
with all my love from all my heart!
						Your, Daughter Debbie 
	July 20, 2011

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With you came desire.
I could not believe what was before my eyes. I could feel that somehow something 
was different. I had a feeling deep within my gut telling me you will never forget this 
moment. Somehow this day was going to change my life. Somehow you were going 
to change my life!
A chance meeting at work or was this life destiny knocking. I had built a wall of 
stone, a fortress surrounding my heart now frozen in fear. I could sense a longing 
to become as one. I had you seared into my imagination and thoughts of you grew 
stronger daily.
Another day brings us closer as we talk, laugh, and plan our first date. I find myself 
consumed with thoughts of you. My old fears and doubts start to fade. I panic and 
you hold me close and tell me everything is alright. It was that exact moment I knew 
I was in love with you and you touched my heart in a way that no one else ever had 
or ever could!
My fate was sealed. I felt desire through my entire being. I wanted nothing more 
than to be alive with you. I knew hope and love did exist and had entered into my 
life. My eyes seen and my heart had felt what no wall could hide me from. My soul 
mate was here to rescue me. 
Now with you by my side nothing is impossible. I have no stone walls just love and 
a cozy fortress for two. My dreams come true and desire continues to flow through 
my veins.
                                                                            Debbie Knapp

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Heaven Shower Me

Heaven Shower Me
By Nate Spears

Tell me something good
Email me if you would
Rather than take a minute
Take my heart 
In a second 
If you could.

I’ll go through hell to reach you
Thank God and the heavens
For letting me meet you
God All Mighty
Lord knows I’ve been seeking you

You’ve been a blessing to my soul
Your heart is as good as gold
Where have you been all my life
Me or no one else knows

But you’re here now
 And I will always adore you
The magnitude of a good woman
Will bring sunshine to any mans morning
I’m just blessed to have had 
The Heaven’s Rains
To shower me on you.

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Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay

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He glances through the curtains as she leaves.

And he knew she was going with him instead.

Desperately he washes his soul of her but its for naught.

And  he hangs each feeling on the line and the cool breeze.

She walks to the corner and gets into his car and flips her hair.

He always loved the way she flipped her hair and the body after a drink.

Her body would glisten with the sweat of his thrust and the bite on his shoulder.

The car pulls away and he watches the lights drive off with his heart and the bite.

The laundry machine moves like her and shudders and vibrates.

But she will return with food from the Chinaman.

Chinese food was how he knew.

She never ate Chinese food except afterwards.

The clothes lay fluttering in the night air as his heart dried.

And she came home with egg rolls and the feint smell of polo.

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I am alive today
Because of you.
Death has knocked at my door multitudes of times and you've been there to scare it away.
There is no one else that means as much to me as you do.
You may never read this nor ever know the Honest truth.
The peices of me that've been broken you've found a way to peice back together every time.
You taught me how to smile, to love and to cry.
You have fixed every broken heart every cut and bruise.
I love you more than you'll ever know.
When the pain is too much for me to explian you were my shoulder to cry on.
Whenthe darkness creeps in on me, you are my light that shines it all away.
Dear lady of peace you took me from a broken home and abuse, gave me reason to be happy and watched over me through everything. 
When I had given up and was letting go of my life you were there to keep my heart beating.
Deasperatly alone I've felt but you came through with a hand to hold.
No one understands me like you.
Please know that all the times you've helped me see, that this world isnt as cruel as i think, still sticks with me.
As I walk this road with the sun setting I can see you laughter in your eyes. The smile that touches you face. And i am content with life. All I want is for you to feel joy.
You may not be blood, but you are more than that. I love you more than you could ever know mom.
You will always be my Mom my best friend and the person i trust most.

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Oh, My Beloved Africa

Oh, my Beloved Africa
Why are you always so behind time
Why is it that the world always has to be miles ahead
For you to follow in the trail of dust they leave behind

Oh, my Beloved Motherland
Why is it that these sons and daughters of yours
Are always so eager to get up and leave
Why is it that you always only get to keep
...those whose thoughts are to beg and keep the obsolete
...of history from the worlds abroad 
...which have nothing better than the makings of thee

Oh, Africa my Beloved
Even I sometimes get the urge to just get up and leave
But so strong is my love for thee
For it always anchors my spirit, here to be
Perhaps if you and I were to form an alliance
We would prove to the others
That indeed, even in Paradise dreams can still be achieved
We can prove to them that on the canvas of life 
Anyone can paint whatever his heart may like
For it isn?t life that matters
But the reality of what you make of the opportunities it offers

Oh, Africa you truly are my deepest love
For you, in my heart is nothing but pride
But there is just one teeny-weeny bit of help I need
Please speak to Mother Nature for me
And ask her gently to lend me her scriptures of life
So I may peruse through to see if I can find some answers I seek
For I feel inclined to believe
She has a lot more acumen to offer
Than of the realities that graces the ordinary minds
Of her intelligence, I wish to spread to the extents it may prevail
So in speaking to her on my behalf
Please ensure to make clear of my selfless intents 
So she may keep sealed from me the pages whose secrets she doesn?t wish 

Oh, My Beloved Mama Africa
You truly are such a Great Mama
You have seen it all in time, 
...and even beyond my time you will still continue to see it all as time strides
Truly, in me your roots run deep
For your were still here, when more than a thousand years back 
...plans to have me alive were hatched
Son after father after grandfather after great grandfather
...after an endless series of other greater grandfathers in time
So why should I abandon thee when it?s finally time for me live 
Just to show you gratitude for having me 
...this life I live I shall on behalf of all before me dedicate to the benefit of thee

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On Halloween Night

Deep in the forest, screams have been heard;
of men, women, and children, screaming their lungs out
in the misty, dense forest. A report was once given of a man
who ran to the chieftain's house, his face filled with blood;
eyes literally separated from the eye sockets!

It is believed that vengeful ghosts roam around the forest,
searching for a soul to be part of them; they can only do so by taking
a life. "They have a very disturbing, dark sense of humor", a warrior says.
"Sometimes they crucify a victim upside down on a tree, and send crows 
to feast on them. At Sunrise, you see what was once a human; bones with some remaining flesh, as blood oozes out!"

After every five years on the night of the full moon, the villagers slaughter a bull and a dozen sheep to appease the forest spirits, that come with the mist.

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Our relationship rose over the horizon

We were very happy and the sun burned

You  touched me in  places where I enjoyed

The newness and the caresses

It was  fresh

And like a crystal clear message you sound

You are the one that I'm meant to melt

And my heart filled with tender thoughts

We rolled through flowered fields in hunger

And still

The first fight and burned our memories

But then hugs and kisses and a smile

Doubt crept between those clean sheets

We tried bleach but it only made white

And then

You swept the floor with me and then mopped

The love was squeezed and wrung

And like flowers in a vase wilted

My heart shattered and burned as the last ray


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Lost in this Pool

Lost in my pool of emotions, 
these waves surround me.
Taking what's left inside of me.
Thoughts contemplating my every move.
Heart racing till it becomes numb.
Skin pale and blue, like those memories,
of me and you.
Where were you when I need you?
Lost in my pool of emotions,
your love consumes me.
Taking every piece of me as you go.
Blinded by this hate, I feel no more.

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Salam, how are you there?
Wassalam, good, Alhamdulillah
How about the issue in Sabah
Nothing to worry
I am worried because you are my friend
I am okay; just want to know your opinion
No probs, what do you think of that opinion?
Does it hurt you personally?
Nope, it makes sense

I am not personally taking part, I have my own problem
Indeed but I am so sad, many don’t understand the situation
They are taking one side condemning Suluk in general
So as the other Suluk in Sulu archipelago 
Many also condemning Melayu in general
I always think about others
My cousin, a policeman is in the frontline

I am so sad, pray hard
Please cry with me
I am here for you to lend your cry
Can I pretend nothing happen?
We can’t pretend to be nothing to happen
Then rest and cry with me
To make people understand is not easy
Sometime we also take time to understand our situation
I am hurt to what happen, we are being fooled by colonisers
They ask us to inherit this misery

Hmmm I am so sorry to hear that
Hopefully you won’t hate the Suluk generally
So, as long as it does not contradict to my stand
What is your stand supposedly?
 At least I have one good friend from Jolo ancestry
I am a good friend because you are good

I know nothing about the war; I just wanted to know the peace
It’s really easy to smile and pretend that you are okay
Rather than telling people why you are sad
It’s not easy to imagine that war
I just want to keep it by my self
I wanted to keep this in my sleep
When I wake up tomorrow 
Peace is expected to blow
Let have this peace to reign right away

The poem is made through the conversation with Malay friends from Kuala Lumpur about the conflict happened in Lahad Datu. We shall never put the bangsa in general as what we are thinking is right: Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant. We need a better understanding to conclude that each bangsa like Suluk and Melayu have nothing to do with the situation. It is a matter of siding the truth and rights. I therefore personally accepted if everyone hates me because I am Suluk and that would make the world stay in peace and to save peace, I am willing to be called such: “Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant” but the “country and world is peaceful” is achieved. The war declared ended today by Malaysian authority. Let Us All Save Peace. Layag Sug. 11th March 2013, Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia!

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For Now It Is My Time

For now it is my time,
I can see the light just ahead;
I don't know what is going to happen,
But I can tell someone's heart is filled with dread.

The angel came to me,
She told me it was time to go;
She took me by the hand,
it was by then I knew it was so.
She whispered, "Don't worry,
It'll be okay;
For all that was left behind,
will be with you again someday."
With a nod of my head,
and a tear down my cheek;
She looked at me,
as she continued to speak.

"My little one,
don't be so sad;
Once you are home,
your heart shall be glad."

For now it is my time,
and I never dared to question why;
I have reached the gates of heaven,
and I didn't have a chance to say goodbye.

For all is in the past,
and so are you;
If only I could go back,
and tell you how much I love you.
Please, don't cry, we'll meet again,
I'm promising you this;
I'll be waiting for you,
Here, home in heaven.
In heaven it was him that I saw,
The Almighty Father;
He opened his arms out to me,
as he started to move his jaw.
He looked down at me,
I couldn't think of a word to say;
And as he spoke,
I started to convey.

He said, "Welcome, little one,
I knew this day would come;
And now that you're here,
I will share my words of wisdom.
I've watched as you've done wrong,
you know this is true;
But I'm happy to see you here with me,
and I have forgiven you.
For this life now is eternal,
and tomorrow is gone;
Your old life will be nothing,
I promise you by dawn."

He wrapped his arms around me, 
and ran his fingers through my hair;
He held me tight,
and started to say a prayer.

Once he was finished,
he looked at me again;
He told me, "Dear child,
won't you stay with me in heaven?"

I looked behind me,
taking a glance at my past;
I'm thinking of you while I'm gone,
and in my heart that's where you'll last.

For now it is my time,
for this I will believe;
I will go on about my business,
and I shall take my leave.

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Opposites in Love collabaration

The crashing waves hit the bow, as we cut through waters deep.
Clasped in irons that cut the skin; forged in the fires that never sleep.

The desert was dry, the sun beat down, I am free as a bird
The breeze tickled through the oasis, near the camel herd

Now my love is fading, like the burnt embers of those flames.
I am now branded a thief and prisoner, amongst some other names.

The hate I felt for the whore that tried to give his love to me.
Was so strong I felt I could kill him, my love he will never see.

I stole for her a flower, a simple heart felt gift.
The perfume now a memory, on this prison galleon adrift.

I am traveling to my wedding, across the desert so hot and dry.
Perfumed flower petals along the way, by slaves are scattered awry.

Seven years the price for my gift of love it did gain.
Hard labour I endure, to avoid the leather cat pain.

My arms are full of bracelets, and pearls hang round my neck.
I never think of him, now shackled on that deck.

Her kisses sublime, a memory fading, the perfume of her skin and hair
The price is high but I will pay, I took her from him to be fair.

To think I could have kissed. him makes my skin fairly crawl.
But the plan worked well, for my new rich lover, it managed to enthrall.

Slaves to love, there is no choice, when our hearts lead us astray.
I stand here windswept and tear stained, with seven years to pay.

How dry my eyes now he has gone, freedom is beckoning me.
So easy it was to frame him, now he has seven years before he is free.

I stand in the wind, rope in hand, waves crashing all around.
My ankles are bleeding with the chains, and the cat makes a whistling sound.

I lay on cushions with rings on my fingers the slaves are fanning me.
My wrists are bathed in rose oil, and kissed perpetually.

My love is strong, my heart is given, and I know I will endure. 
My love will wait for me, my beauty, my life, my own sweet amour.

Thank goodness I kept my heart for me, and for me alone. 
This thing called love is foolish, my heart it has never known.

In collaboration with Declan Fitzgerald who started the story off which made it easy to alternate my side of the story as a femme fatale between his couplets.

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Oh Happy Day

Oh Happy Day, when you were born.
For many years, my heart did mourn.
Childless I lived amid the throng.
Watching mothers rush children along.
Alone in a restaurant, twirling the ice –
Little girls with bows looking so nice
Brothers and sisters laughing out loud
While childless I sat amid the crowd.
Primary children would sing sweet songs.
Mothers would lovingly hum along.
Boys on the playground would tackle their dog.
I, like the old cliché, a bump on a log.
Watching, with my heart breaking.
Dreaming with memories aching.
I lost my first child before he was born.
Year after year, my mind was forlorn.
But then, it happened; you were on your way.
I prayerfully waited day by day.
Five and a half months within me growing.
Proudly knowing, greatly showing.
Then came six and I felt some relief.
Then, when you were born, you erased my grief.
I became a mother and not just a wife.
Your live birth, my child, 
Became the happiest day of my life.

© December 23, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Form: Narrative with rhyme

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A talk with the devil

 A talk with the devil 

 One night while watching television 
 I suddenly fell asleep 
And when I open my eyes 
 This stranger I did meet 
A wild looking creature, 
 Bolder then I had seen 
Somebody shake me and 
Tell me this is a dream. 
I did not want to be here, 
 This is a mistake 
Wake me; shake me, 
 Before it is too late. 
The creature began to laugh, 
 As he laughs so hard; 
You are down here to stay 
So said the Lord. 
You had your chance 
 To live a Christian life 
But you didn't count on 
 Taking this deep sleep tonight. 
Listen careful my child, 
 Don’t you hear the bells? 
You missed the streets of gold 
 And ended up in hell 
I started to scream and plead to God; 
 He never heard me as 
 I stood there in the dark. 
 People was crying and gritting 
Their teeth; my night gown caught on fire 
 From the intensity of the heat 
 I yell out with pain saying 
 Forgive me, this is a mistake 
I realize it was the devil when he said; 
 Take your place I appointed 
You in the lake. 
All while you live, 
 I stayed hard on your back 
You down here with me 
And there is no looking back 
I showed you things 
That drew you from God 
Not giving you a chance 
 To receive him in your heart 
Oh foolish one, how foolish could you be 
I did not want you in heaven, 
 But down here with me. 
You did not have to come here, 
 Or allow yourself to be fool 
I do what I want, 
 I got nothing to lose. 
I know how heaven look, 
 But I did not care 
I want all of God’s people for myself 
Maybe you should have loved 
 God without a doubt 
The day I got unruly up there, 
 He simply put me out. 
.I got all kind down here 
 With me, young and old 
I am out to kill and 
Destroy all of God’s souls. 
As I talked with the devil 
 My heart did ache 
My head hung in shame 
 Because I knew it was too late 
I scream loud as I could 
To the top of my voice 
Suddenly I open my eyes 
And grabbed for my heart. 
I remember everything 
 I had seen that night 
I had no time to waste, 
 To get my soul right. 
I got one more chance 
 To try to save my soul 
I got one more chance 
 To walk the streets of gold. 
You may say that this is a poem, 
 And you are right 
But what if you fall asleep 
And go there one night? 
Do whatever it takes 
 To live the holy way 
Time waits for no one, 
 It must be today. 

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If i have ever hurt anyone in any way I'm sorry

If i have ever hurt anyone in any way I'm sorry, cause I learned in the last two days that everybody has something wrong in their lives everybody has troubles in some way and one word u say could hurt them badly ... And one good thing u say could make their day so everybody I'm sorry if I ever hurt u in anyway.. And I hope everyone has a good day. No one deserves to be treated how u treat people, we all have feelings... And we all have made mistakes, and we all have issues but that's no reason to treat someone like u do Imam pray u get a heart and learn what you are doing is wrong. And I hope u stop. You say u hate drama? But girl u r drama! Just saying so from now on I am going to be me, I'm going to be myself not who everyone else wants me to be... (: cause being someone your not isn't right u shouldn't have to change for anyone..

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What I want to Say

How is it that I feel this way?
I don’t even know what kind of feeling it is
But I know it’s not a good one
I can’t even begin to tell you
Because I can’t even explain it myself
All I think about it you
I start to get these thoughts
They won’t go away
I wonder if you feel this way too
Like something’s missing
I re-read your texts to reassure myself
We lay on the bed in silence 
 I desperately want stories and laughs
I feel physically connected
But not mentally connected
day after day I’m the one puts in the time
Goes out of my way to make sure you’re ok
Why doesn’t it bounce back my way
Arnt I the one you said I meant the world to you
Then why don’t you show it
Im the girl that needs to be shown that what you say is true
That’s all I ask
This to me doesn’t seem like a big task

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When They Told Me

When they told me you were there, immediately I started to care.
A bond between the two, which was a bond for I and you.
You were my something to hold, my something new to behold.
Immediately, I wanted to shape you into a woman or a man who could stand up and stand for whatever he or she felt she deserved, but mainly a chance, in life.
When they told me you were there instantly I started to care.
 I was awaiting the embrace of my little one and for you to embrace this new life.
But when they told me that you would not make it, right then I knew my heart couldn’t take it.
My joy suddenly vanished away and that thought of waiting to deliver your warm embrace.
My heart began to break and wonder if this world was just a big fake, to take something so precious, sweet, unique, and by me. 
When they told me I began to cry, my soul began to slowly die.
I cried for you.
I cried for me, because we would never get the chance to meet each other you see.
However, if God will have it so, one day I will get to know who you are and what you might have been, the only remedy and medicine to put the lost and the great cost of losing you behind me.
To my unborn love, mommy loves you.

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Dance Above The Stars

The laughter I see,
is hidden so deep,
a memory of yesterday,
mine to keep.

Those that know you,
or think they do,
can never hold dear,
the days of me, and you.

Saying goodbye,
hurts me so bad,
my eyes now misty,
my heart is so sad.

No one knows,
when time is no more,
eternity takes over,
when we enter Heaven's door.

Sing so joyous,
dance above the stars,
my heart will know peace,
for I know where you are.

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A Word From Gonzo

Atlantic city had been a haze of slot machines and watred down drinks and loud nightclubs
that often  remendedme what disney land  could have been ifthatdam mouse wasntallowed 
to take over.

Never trust a talking rat.
 I had to go through a hellof a divorce because of it.
Good thing her brother was a lawyer cause  I might have
actully had something left oh well things are overrated like indoor living.
it's hell gettinga good internet connection in a tent.

But enough  time traveling  i had more important issues at hand
like my return and some unpaid parking tickets and that whole 
court case nonsense your place of business  burns down for the fifth time
and people all wanna  get uptight  hey i preffer to moron my lose 
in a casino they said i shoudnt be alone so  im just taking doctors orders.

But i had a deadline and it was almost happy hour the library was gonna be packed.
The subject   true art and  cenorship.
The world around us is totatl chaos so how could you restrict how people expressed 

Heaven forbid little tommy reads a bad word 
while him and and his best friend huff paint  
dear jesus man and i hope they dont play a violent video game.
Sure susan  go  have random sex with guys of fthe internet 
but dont read no cuss word on a poetry wed site 
you just might drop dead where you stand.

Its kinda like running a asylum and pretending that everyone there
isnt totally nuts.
No sir lets ignore the real world cause lord knows people 
cant filp on the tv   and see murder rape fires and war ya gotta 
love kids programing.

You cant restrict art for if it"s all the same cookie cutter stuff.
Then is it truley art or just a pretty dellusion.
Ignore the world and it'll run you over.

Life good bad  traggic is ment to be shared 
the secrets of the soul can rattle in that closet till 
madness breaks that perfect image we put.
but what I know.

Never restrict your mind for you will sufficate the soul.
stay proud and crazy forever 
Dr Gonzo

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The clock is ticking

Ticks, tick I listen to the time go
An hourglass I watch the sand flow
Tick, tock I see the time upon the clock
I feel lost, wandered out from the flock.

My eyes view all that I’ve been through
The journey always brings me back to you
I can’t seem to focus and the time just flies
Another day passes and something just dies.

My heart feels passion, the clock keeps on spinning
I cannot see if I am losing or winning
I try to stand but can’t find my feet
I see pieces of myself in the people I meet.

My mind is racing to keep pace with time
I try to gather all the pieces that are mine
My life seems scattered across the floor
I need to escape so I head out the door.

The sun has returned and shines down on me
Its’ rays warm my soul, its’ light I can see
The world I once knew has all but disappeared
When I closed my eyes this is what I feared.

I walk down the street but it’s like I’m not there
I feel like a ghost on a journey to nowhere
I just wander around and the time still goes
My heart feels confused but my mind knows.

I try to find something to make some sense of it all
But sometimes the descent is worse than the fall
A cool breeze blows it seems summer is gone
The leaves will be changing before too long.

The time just keeps ticking another day ends
The hands on the clock it is time they defend
When I thought I had time it slipped away
Time did not have time for me today…

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Lady bird, lady bird, why thou sings so beautifully
When other had got their voice cracked in the noon?
Do you sing of peace or lost love?
You have bottled my heart with your adverbial voice
Tending the grains in my garden to peace whilst they clap
Thou have undressed the grasses of the field with your song
Your muse perching from tree to tree

The leaves dances merrily in their branches
The air in their wonderful world rejoice
Thou advertises their motions and worth
The sky clapping brightly in justification
Of your undying voice of historical flight
Hold on miss independent and repeat to my ear
The last line of the song you sang
It sounded so sweet to my soul
The meaning of your heart beat

thou sings like a preacher on the altar of love
With a rekindled voice radiating the soul
The wind trumpet hilariously whilst the tree dances
Oh lady bird, thou make my heart beautiful 
Clamouring for the lost vegetable of my life
Tell me what thou sing of that i may join
In the perfection of my glowing bed which 
Shows me the important of good neighbourlines.

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The Comfort of Poetry

Sometimes, I feel like a bird hiding
Under a thin hollow of a leaf
The bird which blinks at the sun
When a branch moves and starts
At a crack of a dry twig
Sometimes, I feel so abandoned,
So tormented, surrounded by
 The huge trees, by big clouds 
Of a callous, cruel world 
But when I remember my poems
I see little flowers out of the grass
Like floating lamps,
I can smell the sweet scent 
Of lime trees in June
I can hear the skylark`s morning song
And many birds fly above my head,
 Trembling,  painfully drawing out
These profound truths 
Which need an enormous effort 
To speak out
But here they are, comforting me,
Telling me that heaven is
Divinely merciful, infinitely benignant
For it has spared me, 
Pardoned  my weakness

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Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue! matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.

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The Indian Ocean Tsunami

My heart cries for thousands and thousands of people
those who perished in the earthquake-spawned waves;
known as tsunami, the worst natural disaster
that caused tons and tons of deaths across Asian countries.

It’s a great tragedy, a giant blow to humanity,
with its repercussions to all spheres of life –
a wake-up call, an immediate response
that needs to be attended to and done forthwith.

Global mourning takes its course in every nation,
particularly in these countries of Asia where –
Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka are faced with difficulties;
in coping with destructions, tragedies, and other commotions
indeed, an urgent call that needs an international attention.

In four decades this catastrophe has ceased its wrath,
but after that starts another episode, so terrifying
that people who are caught up in that mere situation
can solemnly declare and profess their fears.

Oh, Mother Nature! at times we don’t know
your reactions that cause pandemonium,
tragedy, destruction, sorrow, and pain to all
like this one, a very strong and powerful disaster.

However, across the world, people show their compassion
with their unwavering generosity that floods in all levels
it’s an illustration that we’re humans with caring behaviors
to all those who’re afflicted and severely hit by this phenomenon.

I can’t imagine how the world mobilizes and responds
showing their love and concern to these people in pain
loss of lives, heart brokenness, and other misfortunes;
these generate an answer to be mindful of them in many ways.

I see the unprecedented generosity that rolls in every land,
institutions and other organizations make a collaboration
in what is conceived and put into action: fund raising,
charity, and pledges of thousands of donors.

Horrific media images shown in television channels,
are remarkable pointers for reflection and yet an invitation;
for someone who needs conversion and a return to church call,
that life can be as quick as those giant waves that killed many people.

It’s a theological reflection which embraces human sufferings,
Like a pathway to profound invocation, faith and trust in Him;
Oh God, our source of strength and goal to fulfill this portion
Where we unite ourselves to all those who’re in afflictions.

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The Three Things I am Proud to Be

How glad I am 
That a poet, novelist and artist
Are all I am

When I’m sad, I can strum it on a guitar
When I’m depressed, I can set my stress free in words
When I’m inspired, I can plaster it in the pages I author
When I’m creative, I can paint my heart on a canvas
When I’m disturbed, I can smudge it on yet another canvas
I can’t imagine anything that’d be better
For again, my reward comes in knowing 
All else of this earth I live comes and goes ease on the wings of change... riding the breeze of fate

Thank you All Mighty Powers responsible for my being
For this talent you’ve given me
For with it I’m not worried like a celebrity
...if I’m a one hit wonder
And I don’t wonder if tomorrow I’ll still be a wonder
For in tomorrow is the promise that a scholar bound to pass over my works and evaluate its worth

Thank you Almighty 
For the immortality of words
Tunes change and movies fade
But words always remain the same
In it what this one doesn’t see
The other one is bound to see
And from it yet another is bound to be inspired
Such is an awesome power
And  for as long as I live
It’s mastery is what I seek

A poet, a novelist, an artist
The three things I’m so proud to be

As of now I have none
But I’m never worried about the cash
For even God knows that I work indeed
And soon I trust He’ll send destiny to reward me
For still I am like Him
Creating life where it didn’t exist
Inscribing life into each blank page
Endearing beauty to a plain canvas
Adding sweetness to a silent time

Oh, thank you Almighty
How proud I feel 
Whenever I glimpse and see the real me

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There Stands The Man

There stands the man, as tall as the Everest Mountain.
When I had four legs, you would throw me so high and
I’d come down with a broad smile because I felt safe in
your warm outstretched arms. I never got to know how you
do your coin trick.
The few times you hugged me felt like a journey to the
end of the world on an elephant.
You never completed the story about the creatures who
descended from the stars every night to bring food to
everyone awake.

Anytime my friends said nice things about their fathers
in my presence, I would be silent because I thought I had
nothing to write home about when it had to do with my father.
Legends are right when they say ‘you don’t know what you
have until you lose it’.
I don’t ever want to repeat this on my death bed
regretfully someday so I listed all the good things about
you, that I may proclaim it boastfully on your birthday
instead of waiting till a tribute.

I’m learning to count my blessings one by one.Yes! , I
may not be in the royal family of England nor amongst the Rockefeller family but, this one thing I can proudly boast of,
'I have the happiest family in the world'. I don't care
anymore what the world thinks about you.They didn’t carry
me on their shoulders to watch the most prestigious
festival neither did they hold my hand on my 1st day at
school, the world did not buy me my favorite toy as well,
you did.
There stands the man, of course he stands tall in my heart.

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Poetic License Suspended

Poetic License Suspended

A string of poetic tales, about my life, my love and, my Lord...
Observations in scales, of mortal plight, once we chance, accord...
Imagination pales, and yet just might, share a glance, of more...
Propping powerful sails, from my short life, happenstance, galore!

by My Gull Wheels On
a.k.a. Michael Wilson

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Sad Bye Soupians

My heart is heavy
My mind is clouded
My world has darkened

I pursued my heart's desire with all zest
But I've come to a point where I'm forced to rest
Fate has decided that I'm not worthy of life's best tastes

I tried to run away with all my might
But now I realize from mediocrity I had but merely run a mile
Now I've been recaptured to be imprisoned in the realm of poverty

I know myself and I know that all is not lost
I still trust my heart shall find a way to beat again
But I now have to contend with the fact my work is not of my world

It has been so gratifying to be amongst you
...a wonderful people of understanding and appreciation
How I wish I lived in your world, for I am not free in mine

Now I prepare to go back to my dark world
Hoping to one day escape to a better reality
Where optimism and happiness shall be the normality 

My freedom here in the city afforded me a touch of modernity
But now I am forced to go back to the rural reality 
Where thoughts and perceptions are as backward as the reality

I go back to a world rampant with hatred and jealousy
A world ruled by mediocrity, scepticism and pessimism
A world to which I will never belong, not in a million eons

Only property I take with me is my guitar
...and a computer I doubt if I'll ever use again
My anger is only to God for committing me to such cruelty

Now I understand why most poets end before their time
For even I feel so tempted to fly away into immortality
But I am so young and I still believe in chance

I will escape again to this positive world, that is for sure
Even if it takes a decade or a lifetime 
A day shall surely come when I'll be free

This is not a mere play with words
It is the reality of a twenty four year old African genius
Wishing for his world to even come to end in an instant

What merit is in striving and failing an inch short of your dreams' reach
Perhaps I am only still young and I will timely learn
But why does life have to be this cruel and painful 

I am going but I'll never stop believing in a better reality
I will never stop striving for better dreams
I will never stop encouraging kids to be better than they are

...for I know fully well the pain of not being the best
I know the pain of living in regrets
I know the misery of being ambitious in a small world

Now I'm going back to a small town built of small dreams
Mhm, my Lord I can't believe you let this happen to me
After all these years of my being faithful to thee


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The Empty Rib Slot

Dedicated to all of the guys who helped me to make the checklist - thanks!

The Empty Rib Slot I think I might have A perfect checklist Highlights from men Gathered now missed Yes special highlights Each man carried some Now added to my checklist For a guy having it all in one This could be the key to find The man I’m dreaming of Not with bits and pieces One filled full of love A man made for me No it would be not I should fit perfectly Into an empty rib slot Let me share this list With every one of you Then decide for yourself If it could possibly be true My first check comes from This guy with dreamy eyes He deeply touched my soul Way more than ever realized He even had a special smile That made you want to grin No matter if life was down He encouraged me to win There was the big hugger With squeezes oh so tight He lifted me off the floor Like if I was taking flight He never did grow tired Of giving me those hugs I never had to ask for them He always did it out of love Then there was the dancer He stayed light on his feet He loved dancing with me Carrying rhythm and a beat Now of course on this list There certainly has to be That best friend I count on Who can also count on me I am even going to count The good points of quality Generated from my brothers And even from my daddy From them they all carry A very good temperament Always being so easy going Not looking for an argument When I am nestled in that slot With a perfect feel of passion All of his glory will then shine As it eludes from my reflection The most important one of all He who shares a spiritual side Being spiritually open with me Not allowing his beliefs to hide I know how this all may sound Like a crazy thing that I’ve got I want the man I fit snuggly with When I match his empty rib slot Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Anna. . . . Dedicated to my daughter Anna-Douw by Theresa Rossouw.
A lily fair, with hazel eyes and dark hair. You came to me on a night of crackers, fireworks bright.

 From early time your will, strong, you knew always ríght from wrong! Your smile a tease,cheeky eyes always showing a soul at ease. 

Water fairy you became at every chance and turn. A child of nature,wind, sun. Always eager to 
try,to learn.

 A fighter strong,fierce since your birth, you gave my life meaning. Purposing in my soul to be your champion,you valiant protector of worth.

 You always shine the brightest by far, a precious gem, my princess,my bornfree star. 

Years have passed and you grew from a tomboy climbing trees and jumping from roofs and running from bees. . . To an elegant rose, blossomed and bloomed, your stature and heart rare and pure. 

Every day I'm amazed at how you've matured and become so full of grace. Your beauty a blossom fresh and new,every morning fresh with the love of God your refreshing dew. 

As the years progress, one day Ill see you in your wedding dress. My heart will ache and break, because you'l be to big to curl up on my lap for comfort's sake.
The memories I'll hold dear is of your precious love and the knowledge, you are a precious angel daughter, a princess from heaven above.

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Each Visit

*I wrote this one a while ago, dedicated to a very dear friend of mine...I had almost forgotten about it until I came across it in a random notebook*

I walked into the house on Arkansas Street
And felt an immediate sweep of welcome
It was the first time of many visits that
I remember the excitement in her eyes
I remember her smile and her warmth
After introducing me to her sister, 
We sat in the living room with cheer
As shy as I was, I felt at home
I felt received and at ease
She is my friend, and how close we have become
We know many more times are to be shared

Her mom was sweet and kind…
She worked on dinner as we played video games
Then my friend guided me into her room
And there she shared an imagination I never knew
I was in love with this girl—her mind
In a way that bonded me to her forever
It was a love so exciting and innocent
That felt no need for physical touch
I was saturated in her light—her art
And I never wanted to leave her side
Her art was where my heart belonged

Since the first day I walked into her house
I knew what we have is very special
Even now I look back at that day
And remember all the happiness and laughter
It is the love of friendship that makes me whole
And the art surrounding us comes to life
Lighting up our minds and hearts

As we join hands and as we touch
I am surprised at how much we have grown
And that excitement has never left my soul
I know each new visit sparks so much more

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A Gullah Angel

“Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”- - Longfellow

Charleston, SC
After the Old Bethel church had been in decline for many 
years it was moved to its present location for the Gullah. 
A smell of salt always in the breeze, the sound of waves 
crashing on the rocks may be heard.

He stands in the old adjacent cemetery looking at a grave,  
adorned by an ebony angel, a tear falls as the wing tip is touched.  
My story was in a different time and place, a different culture even.
Taking place in 1881 long after the terrible division was over. 
Yet the landmarks, preserved from that war lingered, 
even as they took on new meaning and significance.  
The churches were all touting “demon rum”
while the temperance leagues marched.
With drum and cymbal they moved, 
from church to levee, up the banks
and through the square where the Citadel stands.
Then turning left through the heart of Charleston
to stop at the open market place,
where everyone gathered in the long hot evenings.
The church not segregated then, the Gullah 
attended along with the whites- - 
more for show and display of wealth, than for religion. 
For that they would reserve Sunday evening
and a larger church in the heart of town.

He lived adjacent to the church, beyond the graveyard.
The first time he saw her, she saw him first.
When he looked up and caught the stare
the most amazing look of rapture came over him.
Both were embarrassed and neither could speak.
He finally composed himself and invited her to come into the garden. 
After a short fiery relationship her swollen condition
prompted the church to intervene.  
It was on the verge of ostracizing both of them 
when she slipped on the rocks of the jetty. 
As he tried to save her she delivered a son.
In all the confusion and darkness, and because of her weakened 
condition he could not save both of them and she died.  

His Great Grandfather lived and so continued the long line 
on down through his grand babies. This one would not have known her 
even had she lived to a ripe old age.  But the fact of love denied to
these two young people in that moment in time, has been told and
retold down the generations.  Sometime, in the lifetime of each 
generation, the statue has been visited to keep a promise that is made 
by every son of every son. 

Sept. 29 2011 Charles Henderson
For Constance's "Church by the Ocean" contest

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I have been made mad before
With my clothes on my hands
Shabbily treated by children in the street.
My hair shaggy and rough.
YOu could see me going through the hoote-nanny
Smiling to every one that comes
on my way in a mischievous manner.
Then they sang the lost song of missing instrument and Bongo 
And i dance stupidly in an open field crowded with fools.
They watched my buttock going higgledy-piggledy with no questions
I flagged off my clothes and let them see my bare chest
Swirling and twisting its Skin.
I have tolled every night and day upon the ugly mountains 
With my back welcoming the dust of the ground in agony.
I have been pushed to the lunatic asylum because they thought 
I was mad but your love made me drunk and insane.
Lyrically, my songs boomed and welcomed thousand children 
Home to celebrate your bravery yet you seems  not to
admit my effort as i sustain lumbago which made me lumbering.
I have embarked an arduous journey on the south west to obtain the
Roses and egg of life made for you in the land of the spirit
Because the priest confirmed you to be Ogbanje.
I have worked in the zoo, worked in the oceans, fought
the masked spirit and won for your sake.
Worked in the farm land where the monkeys mocked me 
With their ugly black teeth abusing my personality.
I made the ridges with your names written boldly on it
To remind the birds and wild creature that it is 
Untreadable land for a pretty damsel.
I have pronounce your names millions time with the parrots
Taught the toddler how top read your names on books.
I have become a hooligan and hoon all because of your love.
I have worked in the vineyard of the king as his servant,
Many maiden clutched to me and laid down their humble
Lives for my soul rescue but i denied them all of love.
Millions tears have i drooped for your sake,
Rebel against my flesh and blood all because i love you.
I am bound to your body by ardour love,
Love me so that every thing would be hunky dory.

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this light may bring hope…
a snap of moment to lead to truth…
i am of what i am because of the truth…
somehow Sulu will rise forth…

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That moment

You smile

You lift your shoulders

You blink

You bite your lip

I sure I know your feelings

Can't let this moment slip

Is it all about the timing

Will cupid shoot his bow

Shall I taste your lips today

Or again let courage go

For I have faced some deamons

Fought men near twice my size

So why does fear fall upon me

When I look into your eyes

Is it because love plays this way

It starts as a cruel game

Where two souls need to open up

And say they feel the same

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Dearest hon,

You cannot believe how excited I was to see sunflowers in the market today!
It’s been quite a while since I saw these cheerful flowers, and it just made my 
day...the lady selling them was even kind enough to give me some seeds.
It felt like it has been months of endless rains over here, so seeing those 
bright yellow blooms was my sunshine for the day. 

And since it’s still going to be like 3 months before I get to finally be with 
you, I decided to enclose these seeds so you can plant them for me ahead of time.
You’re such a green thumb, I know that my sunflowers will be happily waiting for
me when I get back, and hopefully you’d be clutching them in a huge bunch, 
together with that great big smile of yours! Sure do miss your smiles!

Let soil embrace these little tokens of my life here without you. Nurture it with care
while I’m still not yet there with you and just shower it with your love as you’ve 
shown me...

Counting the days until I’m with you...

Yours forever,


Dearest Aurora ,

You won’t believe how moved I was to finally receive that letter from you, and those
sunflower seeds were such bittersweet tokens. I took what you said to heart and 
you would be so happy to know that those sunflowers are the biggest there is here
in our neighbourhood –very fitting for you, love –
since you always did have the brightest smile and the biggest heart.  Heaven knows
how much I miss you...God knows that my tears have also showered these plants...
My heart is literally breaking now, as I write this. People have told me you were 
holding the biggest bunch of sunflowers that day you left the post office, and you even had 
a smile on your face... know sweetest heart, that I shall take care of your sunflowers 
until the day I die. My love for you still shines as brightly and will never fade...

Your hon until the sun refuses to shine...

*** June 29, 2010 Written for Constance’s flowers contest 

uh-oh I don't know where to put this--narrative maybe??

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L O M L Always

The thought of her smiling gave me faith
From when we were little we bathe
My mother and her mother is best friends
They both took care of us and gifts they send
We pulled each others hair
And she was always quick to dare
When I smiled at her she knew it was no good
She learned to pull me up and she understood
I just wanted her attention and that she gave
She knew it in her heart love was my slave
From when we were a child with full of energy I had my way
She was the one who was my guide and she did not push me away
When I saw her cry one day and her eyes was so sad
I gave her a flower and I smiled at her and made her glad
When some one special leaves her heart
I sat by her and never wanted to depart
She is the love of my life always
She is the one who gave me my hope through out my days
So I gave her my heart and love from within
And I did not make it thin
I stood by her side since I was a child
I gave her my support when we were wild
She knew who I was and I let her go the distance
I did not hate her or give her resistance
My mother and her mother are great friends and their virtue will never end
Because of their love they both trusted us to live our ways to transcend
So my childhood friend was my best friend, and now my wife
She new it from the start that we part of each others life

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 Let me bring you to a world where love has no  limit.
The feelings of devotion lie in between you and me,
You are Adan and I am Eve on the first day that we'd met
We are formed by the prowess of love and faith.
The unconditional LOVE...the greatest gift from God above.
But this love that we have is something veins fluctuating.
We found love  in most special ways.
Not in  amatory form of fantasies.
Hugs and kisses in the world of black and blue. 
Caring for each other without bond and sort of hues.
But often misinterpreted by those minds are less and few.
We twirled the world like roller coaster.--
Meeting up of two souls in soiree place.
Eye to eye we've met and the story begun to clicked.
Friendship that'll remain forever,love that exists 'til the end.
No vow and ties that bind together,
Just two sacred hearts adjoined.
Two people stay together,no pain 'til we get old.
Love stuck in the middle,platonic and bold.

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my companions

My only companions are my dreams my only friends Who call out for me their voices a melody for me to fallow save me my friends from this Dark World Wolfs teach me to be loyal and to fight the dark and when make love to the dark embracing it becoming dark myself yet not to succumb to its control Fae teach me to kill with words And when to use them to save Of the meanings of speech and its clever twists To speak a truth one does not want to hear And still make them hear tote truth Twin sprits teach me to know the sprits Those elusive things some call souls Not knowing how to talk with them, we converse Not knowing how to feel their presence, I touch them I feel the hands brush against my skin As dragons, teach of fire, rage, and bloodlust ,when to use it and how to use it well like a well made WAR HAMMER ,and from the masters I learn lore and flight for though I have no wings still I fly with them Trees teach of patience And the earth’s presence and how to care her Of the minds herbs and streams to feed my roots As my branches wither Their Skills With The Wood Are Rival To None Succubus and Incubus you teach of the heart, it’s betrayals, loves, comforts how to guard the heart, and still feel for they know best, its mysterious ways Whilst my heart, mind and body scream Scream for release from this reality To dreams and the worlds found through their doorways Call out to me my friends save me from those who ridicule me who constrain me in chains of iron as they sear my flesh Holding me fast to things, I must not do or have cages of words, deeds, people, and their judgments I Hate Them, And Their Ways are both evil and cruel I know not how long I have left For my blood screams for vengeance To bathe in its fires ,to soar free in the skies where none but you can reach me SAVE ME, MY FRIENDS I BEG YOU!!! I long for your embrace your fiery breath the sweet scent of wet moss you warm sprit upon mine the pack running singing the songs that change me to your likeness the sleep where my heart lies in your hands as you feed your lustful hungers upon my troubles leaving me to sleep untroubled free of my cares and worries giving me my heart backed still with its worries and cares but unburdened you cleaver teachers I lust for your wisdom and the peace you bring me please come open the doorway to the forests and the fire moors save me my friends
this is also a personification

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My sadness is so profound
That it settles, like a killing dust
In every corner of the room
Sometimes, my eyes are wide with joy
The birds are loose in my eyes
Happy thoughts wing through the room
And rest on the notebook
Each image is a single memory
Whose life span is short
And heartbeat fast
Each image is a mystery,
Demanding preservation and admittance
Each image is a song,
Wanting life

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Map of the Gods

He ceaselessly wandered across the vast desert,
with only a bottle of water. According to his archaeological
knowledge, it was claimed that gods, with fiery chariots,
roamed across the world, six thousand years ago; a period
that people read the stars, and knew where gods hailed.
Legend has it that a magical papyrus scroll, illustrating a map to gods' abode,
was hidden in an Obsidian Pyramid, that glowed in the day. As the Egyptian
Kingdom collapsed, an evil sorcerer threatened to steal it, but Isis hid it in a vault,
in the Obsidian Pyramid. "It's not the sorcerer who's a threat now, but the Nazis!", the
English archaeologist speaks in his heart.....  

Name: Teddy Kimathi

Contest title: IN THE WIND

Date: 15/09/2014

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secrets began leaving the building
bar codes covered the license plate's
threats intimidation badgering
and fear meaningless arousal

I began to focus on her treason
again a righteous over reasoning
I was selected poet of Florida
four years in a row inspired

by montel williams and ms. survivors
i'd completed my poem mattie 
for the disabled child poet stepenek  
seated in mark ober's building on twigg 

states attorney jim shoemaker
having a panic attack
following a murder trial 
who was my imposter 

she wore dark skin 
and a very odd grin
why my death enticed her
I began to feel empty
again espionage a disease 
she was spreading. quickly 
throughout civil liberties finally 
I could go to the restroom 

without fear finally I could speak
without panting my imposter 
was a treasonist stealing
my passport to re enter canada

 i remembered the pelicans 
swooping their dinner 
over the seminole valley 
the whooping crane standing

in the merky waters
as alligators strolled by 
i'd remember thee imposter jane
a ladder up to my window pages ripped

why she latched on to my identity 
with a fierce strength a severe stronghold
why she believed she was me 
side by side the fbi 1994 investigating 

police corruption Jane was now a mole 
planted by corruption for the purpose 
of infiltrating fbi witness files
to sabotage an entire ongoing

corruption investigation an entire 
police department therefore killing me 
the actual witness everyday 
was the fourth of July my location 

constitution Blvd Arlington heights cemetery 
awaiting the flag to cover my coffin 
Jane relocated crime and built 
a city on that ongoing corruption 

the mother whose grandfather
protected the bischops 
in rome in wwll 
why she believed she was me

1989 a witness from chicago
a poet from tampa 1999 to 2005
standing before me four gunmen 
one seated in a tahoe with jane

the imposter the treason 
had began to explode before me
jane watching her gunman pointing 
the gun in the crowd of children

alerting the three other gunmen
while murder occured at my feet
i sat covered in yellow tape
sitting in a pool of blood

 i began to find peace
in a mans death during
the assumption of mary
after mass i was to be

assasinated and replaced
by treason it was my german
diplomatic  passport to be 
duplicated in canada dubai

mumbai london and turkey
i thought of frankfurt augsburg
munich italy and spain
while  panting my name
over and over again

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Voice Of The River

Voice Of The River

“O voluptuous maiden 
why do you bring your tears 
to the side of my flowing waters?
I have enough water to fill the valley.”
“O river,” replied the Maiden,
“I have been duped by a masquerading heart of Love,
even as we lay on your grassy banks 
my pure heart was taken without warning. 
My heart soared as the birds, 
while words he whispered from tender lips 
were of promises and dreams.”
“So why do you cry my maiden?” 
“Why are the tears so full of sorrow?”
"I gave my love freely with no wants for myself,  
now love is gone, 
and I want to silently flow in your waters.”
But the river was wiser 
and knew that its waters flow was unending., 
though there were places it flowed shallow, 
and schemes where it is deep.
“I say to you my Maiden,
I tell you from wisdom , 
my waters are like your love, 
it flows both shallow and deep, 
with twists and turns, 
over rocks, along the banks,and over the falls. 
I will flow continuously 
not knowing from where I originate
very much like your Love; and without end.”

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I stumble upon a river
the way it flows and feels
I take my shoes off and run threw it
laughing looking up towards the sun
I wake up and it was all just a dream
my sister runs up the stairs
she slams her door
i asked her what was wrong
she looked at me 
She says "mom told me you were adopted"
at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke
I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch
"mom?" i say
she replies "its true we adopted you!" 
she got up and walked into the kitchen
"after all this time i thought i was yours" i say
My father gets up and walks out the door
My mom lays her hand on her forhead
Just dont worry about it  everything will be okay
"No it wont i say"
i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be
i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing
my whole life and who i should have been
I packed my bags that light and i ran away
leaving the less important things behind
i set out on a journey to find my real parents
I had my sister get there info. from my dads office
I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address
As soon as i found it i knocked on the door
A man opened the door
he said "who are you?"
i say "apparently i am your son?!"
"you put me up for adoption?" i repeat

He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!"
i repeat the story to her as she denied it
She looked bruised and beaten up
I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face

I had no where to go now
So i started on a journey back home
But i never made it there 
I found that old river i use to go too
i stayed there for a few weeks until
i remembered the way back.
I found myself that day
I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them

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Thousands of people drowning in their self perception.
Hundreds of people, searching for a place.
Tens of people changing to fit in.
One person, feels alone.

She sits at home and no one even knows,
She’s breaking down, to the ground.
She can’t keep up, she’s so behind.
If you could see the thoughts she thinks.She thinks, they’d blow you away.

Perception is not beauty.Beauty is not perfection.Perfection is not love,but love is purely 

She’ll never live up to standards.Or be the top of her class.She’ll never be the pretty one,or 
the loud obnoxious ass.

She lets the old love drag her down.
Because to her it’s not old.
In her heart it’s still alive and well.
Although his heart doesn’t live there anymore.

She’s tired of misconceptions, and people’s preconceptions.
It’s a never-ending race,
That’ll leave you breathless in the end..
When you look back and wonder when it all started.

She’s prettier than me.
She’s smarter.
They raise the bar,
As she raises her hand,
And asks when this all started to matter.

No one will understand her.
She’s alright with that.
Just go drown in your self perception.
Nobody’s perfect anyways.

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I fly through the lace of dreams
Through air perfumed with words
I walk along the rim of high mountain
I sail in the clouds and swim  in the ocean
My dreams of opal are colored with
Dark green tinted with the inks
Of crushed violets
My dreams are pieces of crystal,
Grass weaving, wind and sand,
My dreams are strands of silk
And translucent water of
Ever flowing river

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Learning The Night Club Two Step

It feels so good To get the chance Of finally learning A beautiful dance Steps seem to be On a cloud of air Floating gracefully Is how it appears Seeing the dance It would seem Like something From in a dream The dance steps Take time to learn Yes, a lot of practice As elegance is earned A partner reflects back With each step taken Sharing joyful smiles In the pattern making The individual style Develops in the man As he creates the lead The best way he can Different partners Step differently Sometimes we find One to step perfectly Either way, once there The non-stop beam of gleam Comes bursting from deep inside As you realize you’re dancing the dream Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Frozen Golden Hair

His smile was as warm as the summer sun.
But his cold-cold heart chilled the soul.
Debonair, golden hair, he often had to run!
Those notches scratched in his paltry pelt,
Lay evidence of his lusty embrace.
He was a hit and run, son-of-a-gun.
Many young women, 
Slapped without a trace.  
A new fair maiden fell for his heat.
He ripped virtue out, with a lusty hold.
Surprised at the end, not even a friend.
Her heart suffered.
The serpent’s sting –
All alone in the winters freeze,
Seething, in woman’s scorn.
- Loved and left without concern -
She had esteemed him, true.
What to do?
The answer soon was clear.
Death paid the toll in the winter cold.
Her sorrow would forebear. 
Debonair, golden hair, 
He no longer had to run!
Her smile was as frigid as the winter’s freeze.
And his cold-cold heart lay icy, still.
Death caught this man who left with fast feet
No more notches would he carve in his strap!
She grinned as she patted his manly pelt.
That winter of his frozen golden hair –

© February 13, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

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My Favorite Devonshire

Between Fear and Hope
By Carolyn Devonshire

where my heart longs to be
the distance feels so far from me
I don't know what exactly it is, that I fear
when there's nothing left to keep me here
hard decisions keep me awake at night
always feeling this pull towards a brighter light
you found a way to open the door to my heart
where I found you did belong from the start
with each day, I can feel you slipping away
tears at me, in a thousand different ways
where my heart longs to be
is with your spirit that keeps me free 
never will the light slip away
with my spirit you'll always stay 
have no fear, as I have none
concealed thoughts for what's to come 
from the other side, I'll connect with you
for never have I touched a heart so true 
a sign I promise, your fear to break
angel in your pocket - rainbow at daybreak 
as we make the most of what we have now
in my afterlife we'll be closer somehow 
and happy my soul will always be
to have found a friend who cares for me

Distant Dreams

Knowing you but for the shortest time, and having distance separate our desire to be more like sisters than friends. I read this with sadness and worry. Your sunny disposition so clouded. I wish for ways to bring you more feelings, a way to heal you, a way to cloak you in compassion, but I have none but this. Dear friend stay awhile longer let the end be a more distant dream.

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My Favorite Devonshire

 She soars up and above the clouds
 and rides on the breeze of the wind.  
 Bringing words of hope and inspiration
 as the breeze lifts her wings-high--higher.
 Her heart and soul flies higher than an eagle
 And her words dance in the wind-wild and free.
 Kindness, guides her way.
 Bringing light to a sometimes challenging world.
 Words that are tranquilizers for the soul.
 Passion, for without passion we never meet true goals.
 It builds strength and character and guides our way.
 In writing she has attained all these.


 Carolyn is a true inspiration to all of us on this poetry site. A  warm and loving heart and a true humanitarian. I have known Carolyn  for a few years and I must say she has some outstanding poetry. 
 Her warm and caring heart has touched us deeply and I am so proud to call her my friend and part of my soup family. You have touched many souls with your poetry
Blessings to you.

Not sure how to copy and paste Carolyn's poems.
My fav. are

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It is in heaven I shall live forever
the earth is my floor
and the sky is my canopy
it sends the rains to make rivers
to water me and grow me plants
for a simple sustenance
and for me a bountiful food

I do not meanly the falsehood
and concealing the truth 
I do not create mischief
and trouble in my homeland
I am created from nothing
and nothing is me
and that me is secret to itself

A secret that Allah kept to discover
where I shall believe is true
nothingness is only seen from nothing
that nothing exists to prove I am nothing
that nothingness exists
in my existence it is indeed nothing
I do exist as nothing.

As I shall always need to believe
that my life would be restored
it is upon my life’s death
that Allah will teach me what I do not know
He will teach me who knows nothing
that nothing is indeed me
and without Him I really mean nothing!

UCA, Kota Kinabalu,
29 June 2014
1st Ramadan 1435

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Im Still Here

Friends one with whom I shared a drink.
Are now ghosts  who haunt my heart dear.
Most left to find that which in life they did thirst.

But with seasons  I did remain like some old pillar unable to 
Feet planted  tears caressing a bitter face hiding 
the fact that  goodbye had come all to soon.

Cards underneath my door.
Unfamilar faces make me question do I exist anymore.

Old passions destroy new flames.
Nights alone cast shadows.
You find more comfort in dreams   

The whiskey that burns is all that reminds.
You haunt this body  like a vacant building  
most seem to ignore  as  they pass its once warm  

My soul knows midnight my heart emersed in the 
agony of truth.
We yern for warmth in the comfort of pain.

Memories are like scars  a prison of the mind.
Greetings from outskirts.
For I am the at home with the left behind.

Like a character in a novle ment to entertain  im 
lost in the back pages of life.
But if you ever question  just turn back in reflection.
For they may have fled but im sill here. 

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"My Pa's Law"

Rhythm In Rhyme

Remembering back, was so very sad, to lose dad.
But congenital heart disease, please!  Is so very bad.
Was no thrill gathering my will, taking strife’s bitter pill. 
Dad died at ease seems God was pleased, passed the test, laid at rest.

At sixty nine, heart wasn’t fine, he had done his very best.
His life quirk, was it seems hard work, did his best with little rest.
But humor was not swayed, one day I realized as he paid,
on an old beat up car, international Studebaker.

He said, “Some people drive all their life, and never have a wreck.
Has been all my life, all I’ve ever driven, by heck, is wrecks!”
I remember his words, as yesterday, his severe life’s way.
His plain quality of life, still cuts deeply as a knife.

Could not read or write was his plight; surely to some a sight.
Though he laughed and lived, no fancy earthly material to give,
his friendship was valued, for miles around, even in town.
His friends’ obvious abound, the day we laid him in the ground.

John Henry was his name; though steel driving, was never his aim.
His name was sound, in town, and for many, many miles around.
Sawmilling was his game, that so many said, was his fame.
He could saw more lumber than any, to many, a wonder.

Laughing long and loud, of his talent to saw, so very proud.
But in my childhood years, was the shedding of so many tears.
For from him to get a nod, was for me so very hard.
To me I was just a clod, while to me he was nearly God.

But in my latter years, I put away my fears, dried my tears.
For love was always in his heart; from first day of my start,
though he was a bit short, not knowing how to show that part.
I learn to know from his ways `Tis tough love, ultimately pays!'

It is now tough love that paves, me through many of life’s maze.
I love him still; that’s the deal! Bitter pill, only a life phase,
so putting flowers on his grave, is to me not a bit naïve.
For tough love made life better of the letter; of my PA'S LAW!!

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A Viking Warrior pt. 1

In the grand days of old let the truth be told/

Those ships and mate's in plight,

With ancient fool's who had launched in an all night battle !

The one who stayed alone and quiet would lose/

A much happy time of old !

Mediocre drawn beers as an angry mob grew bolder !

For the little troll would oft' loosen his undergarments ?

Ready for a fight/

Along came a black knight !

The little troll found himself a bit helpless among the resistance,

In the distance a land far to quaint in which to behold,

Try to filter out the sorrowful resistance/

A castle promptly built for the proud and noble !

What was once thrown down into the rubble,

Yet still my heart beats a bit frantic now ?

Torn in the midst of breathless moments/

We suddenly captured a sweet glimpse of heaven,

But then to suddenly leave again !

With fallen trees of fern and elm,

Then suddenly the sword pulled out of the lasting storm !

With gentle onlooker's to approach,

A vining warrior with hidden spear inside,

Traveler's visiting from the East would often run away and hide ?

Yet what had hit me from my blind side ?

Was it the heavy notion of a wizard living inside ?

A darkened portal that had come to light !

With a famed court prince on some winged plight/

Along comes a big dragon with a focused intent,

Outside a winged servant was inclined to viscously launch out into the night/

To enlarge his welcoming with some frantic fright !

Amidst the hidden turmoil of the given plight/

With the great task in which to make all things right !

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Upon the aged wooden stage of life a show of Burlesque did played a grand ballet of lampoon, mockery and imitation fell as the curtain was raised a farewell performance of Lady Petite and her partner Sir Dapper Galahad honor and prestige would soon be long forgotten as the antics appeared full steam with theatric's divine in a serious life story of a flower swaying in the wind the stage rolled energy with twirling streamers gripped tight in each hand and vibrate attire of outfits grand colors splashed and movement superb I settled in as the show did begin with the symphony rhythm slowly building at hand as the ballet played on in graceful shadow all seemed to go astray without much notice the accompanying symphony began a frantic comical display trumpets blared uncontrolled as each violin screeched in a confusing rage with symbols crashing and hard notes hammered upon the piano ivory both dancers scurried to keep up with the maddening musical pace losing rhythm as the winds built strong with violent crashing waves laughter filled the theater complete, with smiling warmth on each face entwined in their silken streamers, a hopeless thought emerge their feet now unable their bodies entangled tears of laughter spilled into the streets crashing about arms and legs in a bind the audience hunched over unable to breath the dancers visibly tickled haphazardly rolled of the stage O' this dramatic travesty and a delightful one at that! this graceful flowering performance had turned to a frantic blossoming mess Burlesque......................... _____________________________ cONteSt~

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Just stood there grinning
Watching fools pass by
Being what they pretend
Hiding from own reality

Lost in false impressions
More valued than dignity
Laughing for sake's effect
Happy yet truly sad

Wrapped in plastic surroundings
Slipping up drooling slopes
Talking to hear themselves
Deaf to any answer

Hair blowing in breeze
More concerned with style
Than what lies beneath
Brain wasted by conceit

Compassion an after thought
Centered only on self
Grasping for golden rings
Worth nothing in eternity

Love just a word
Seeing loyalty as obscene
Old fashioned a joke
Material things most valued

Sneering at the elderly
Pathetically so boldly unaware
They were their past
Faces revealing mortal future

Copyright © 2015 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2015 Robert William Gruhn

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Saying vs Doing

So carefree into the nature I pass,
So carefree I roll onto the soft grass.
So said my reverened Guru.

As I got older, I  carried those words only in my head.

I saw a nice house beside mine 
A palacial one, patterns so fine
I thought if I had been the owner
In place, I felt, I became 'ower'.

I saw one of my friends 
Holding a pair of beautiful hands;
I felt red with spleen
With envy, I got green.

I saw a man driving a Ferrari,
I couldn't be at all marry;
And I had a heartburn,
Into my heart, that really did turn. 

Now I am aged and torn
And see a child as it is born;
I feel jealous as I have creased skin
I feel like to replace the babe, as beautiful as a bean.

...At long last, I realize

I did not pass the nature into me
Yet affected, I'm there, where lies she;
I bore the words only in my head,
And terribly did I neglect.

What's the use of keeping the words in head
If in practise those do not reflect?

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How Hard Could it Be Part 1

How hard could it be to take my first step?

“Come to mommy, you can do it.”

“Oh you're home. Hon, look at him go.”

As I take another step, he picks me up.

He hugs me tight but gently and kisses me on the cheek.

I feel so safe, loved and happy. Perhaps that's how it was.

(I really don't remember back that far.)

How hard could it be, my first day at school.

My mom meets me at the front door of the building,

hugs me and says, “How was your first day? Did you have fun today?”

He comes home after a hard day at work and mom says,

“Hi Hon, it was Den’s first day of school.”

He picks me up in his strong arms and says,

“I knew you could do it.” A hug and a kiss on the cheek.

How hard could it be to learn how to drive a car or a truck?

“Den, come with me. Let's take a short ride down the road.”

We both climb up into Dad's blue 1955 Chevy pickup.

He stops on the back road, gets out, comes around and says, “Scoot over. It's

your turn.”

I start the engine, push in the clutch, shift and we start out slowly.

I'm nervous, I speed up, clutch in, shift again.

Oh crap, I shifted into reverse, truck stopped abruptly and backfired.

Dad looks at me, “But you did it.“ He hugs me, a kiss on the cheek.

How hard could it be to go away to college?

I'm so glad she has a phone so I can call my mom and dad.

“Hi Den, how are things going? You've got a B average.

That's great. I knew you could do it. I love you, see you soon.”

“You met a girl? What's her name? Wow, see you soon. I love you”

“You want to marry her? Big step; in Holland? Okay, we love you.”

How hard could it be to have a family?

“Oh, it's a girl. Mireille, that's a nice name.” He hugs me, kiss on the cheek.

“Another girl, Michelle, that's a nice name too.” He hugs me, kiss on the cheek.

“You finally had a boy, Michael, good choice.” Hug and a kiss.

Birthdays, holidays, weekends, visits back and forth, phone calls.

He loves them all, unconditionally. Hugs and kisses all around.

How hard could it be as life goes on?

He watches them grow up, get married and have children.

He loves them all, unconditionally, hugs and kisses all around.

We take short trips and mom and Dad go with us now and then.

We go camping and mom and Dad visit us now and then.

Every time you left, hugs and kisses all around. Always, “See you soon.”

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COme with me to the
Let us deliberate on
the plight
Of our beloved
The gods are waiting
to hear from us.
Here is your sit,
face me so that 
I could watch over
you head and you
Watch over mine so
that we 
Could protect each
other from the
Who might throw a
heavy orange on us.
I heard what
happened recently.
I heard it also but
very brief from a
Is it true that over
two hundred pretty
girls were
Abducted in the
country and every
one had been
Yes, so i heard
also, even the
people went on
all over the world.
The first lady of
the country also
Then which pretty
girls are left for
our children to
Amadioha knows best.
I also heard of the
kidnapping going on
here and there,
The bloody arena
which was discovered
at Ibadan.
I heard of the
ritualist caught red
handed by the
They confessed that
the political
animals sent them.
My dear, what is
going on in this
Who is who in this
Why are we like this
Is the president
working at all?
Is the security men
asleep, who are we
to blame?
We have a lot to do
in this beautiful
yet cruel land 
Before we all become
slave in our
Perhaps its start
from me and you to
The cultural and
traditional value of
our beloved country.
When faces are no
more faces we can
make them face off.
We can carry on the
good legacy to the
dark kettle
But remind the pot
of change to come.
Put off the burning
sweating candle 
Make it known that
there is nothing as
constant as change.
We could be mad, mad
in the bloody street

Yet our madness will
never make us
To over look the
insecurity in our
We hope no more but
hope for our hope to
With the unaborted
dreams of a better

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a flood of swollen words

I've seen a picture of a book
caught in a flood from the past
and marveled at what the view
revealed to me, the reader

The book, arced and curved to
its center, like a ship's bow
darkened with abandonment, and 
white crystals grown from pages' edge

Words crystalized from every
line written, touchable thoughts 
crystallization of the author's soul
the original, unreadable, unknown

The wish to witness at pad and pen
as soul pours ink to paper page
tonguing salty thoughts may be what 
imprinted from the writer to me

© Goode Guy 2012-03-03

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The Sea

I am walking down the beach
Asking  the sea what does it want to say to me
While I am watching these presents of celestial beauty
It seems to me that a pale blue sky
With vast white clouds holds something of my own in it
But tide is bringing waste back on the sand
 I am imagining that the sea is boiling and bleeding
And I see man`s misery and
Can`t condone his wickedness 
My dream of finding peace in nature is shattered
Being beside the sea is impossible
Musing  is unbearable
The mirror is broken

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Walking next to nature

different shades
of grasses
and trees
along paths
to and from
in valleys
the rain forests
all creatures
to natural
all that is 
to nature

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Night Thoughts

I awoke this morning in a sheeted sweat,
from a dream I had last night.
A perfect world in a perfect way,
was traded as part of my life.

I sat there thinking for quite some time,
about the trade I'd made.
So would this time in my mind, 
do nothing more than fade; away.

In a hollow lump in the middle of my chest,
A warmth began to rise.
I cried out for mercy from the one above,
my brain wants me to compromise.

A life time I've wondered just why it is,
my brain and heart can't meet.
A penny for my thoughts, is about all it's worth,
but even a penny is now obsolete.

So back into my sweaty sheets I crawl,
to try and sleep once more.
As the clouded thoughts of my brain and heart,
bring about again this conflicted storm.

So can there really be any measure in me,
as the wheels grind brain cells.
I guess I'll find out in the end,
while arriving at heaven;    or hell?

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The  one who was always dearest to me                                                                                                                                But now you are slowly killing me.Words like arrows you shoot to my heart .                                                                                                                           And I am slowly falling apart.                                                                                                                            MOTHER,You carried me and gave life to me and yet you cannot let me be.                                                                                                                      Everything I do is always wrong,yet my love for you still remains strong.                                                                                                                           MOTHER,I have found love and one so true,but somehow he does not conform to you.                                                                                                                               You drive him away,you drive me away with cruel and vicious things you say.                                                                                                                               MOTHER,I am a person on my own,God only gave me to you on loan.                                                                                                                              If you look into my heart you'll see,a daughter who is true unto thee.

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The Pigment Of Illustration

Rain falls
Lights brighten the space above the sidewalk
There on the corner stands a girl
She stands tall yet frail
Her face is in anguish, so pale
Pain clearly controls her
The emotion on her face is washed out like the light softly brushing the pavement.
She screams, tears stream but there is no sound 
No way to convey the truth
No one to witness reality
Suddenly a crowd forms from the darkness
A wide range of individuals
Looking pained
Looking lost
They all scream in unison
Still their screams are hushed
She is in the center now
All the individuals are isolated from each other
Each in their spaces of pain
A new form of crowd immerges
They are bright and glad they laugh and there is sound
Ringing clearly
They whisper happiness is a choice
They burn bright 
Contrasting to the black and white individuals
Suddenly the girl stops screaming
Tears stop streaming
She brushes her coal black hair from her eyes and rolls up her sleeves
 She grabs a marker
She writes “Freedom of expression”
Along the pavement squares 
Like the completion of a crossword 
She draws a paintbrush and paints her heart
She spills her soul
She releases her grief
She draws a microphone and sings
Sings her mind
She spills her innovation
She draws and paints and creates 
Feels and thinks and exists 
She cries and laughs and breaths
She colors her world and when she screams
Notes and chords
Rain and sunshine
Light and dark
Pain and joy
Are set free
As the others watch her they begin to follow 
They scream and Rain falls
Everyone can hear the piercing  
Expression Is Freedom.

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The Night

My words fade in the daylight
They surrender to the sun
But when dark descends
They exist  ponderously-
Give out everything that
 The day fails to reveal
The commotion and suspense of feelings
Gathered in the darkness
And the night is full of words
I write them down, they come to me,
And say: ``Fear no more.``
They dissolve in the air
Giving all my sorrows
To some sea, which cries
For all burden, renews,
Makes a fresh  start,
Forgives and forgets
And it is so strange
How they still have the power
To make the Moon shine in the sky

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Iris of Poetry

Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the
obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly
see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different
this time...

Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.

A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Expressed in a way from deep inside
A way which only the heart can see,
A place where the eyes get cold-feet

The earnest truth and the sweetest lies,
It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.

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Feed Upon My Soul

*Note this is not sexual. succubus feed on emotion not all of them use sex as a method.this one uses touch to suck out emotions  *

As I lay on the soft moss your body beside mine. your cool hands on my breast your mouth hovering over my heart you feed upon the black and crimson mist that rises from my heart Full of hatred ,agony ,pain , sorrow and lust the lust for blood that consumes me this mist this congealed darkness that has conquered my heart upon which you feed so lustfully releasing me from its burden its dark chains; you feed on emotions taking my burden for your sustenance
my feelings, for you wil never leave me thank you for all you've done. you can feed upon my soul any time there will always be some thing for you at least the darkness insde me is has brought one good thing to me: you

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Till the wheels fall off

Drumbeats, drumbeats, drumbeats
My soul is searching, searching, searching
My pulse is rising, rising, rising
My heart is pounding, pounding, pounding

I sit silent and meditate
Hoping for my sails of thought catch the winds of motivation and inspiration
I have a value which I wish to improve soon
The urge in my heart is impatient to wait
I want to start now, I want to go now
That was yesterday, so here I am today
Exactly where I wanted to be as I wanted to be
Still I want to go farther, faster and faster
Still, my ideal dream seems further and farther
Something at the back of my mind assures me
It will all come to be... it will all come to pass
And that I absolutely believe
Only problem is I’m not good at waiting
I want it all and I want it now
From dawn to dawn I’m busy on every clock
Day after day still seeming not to move an inch
But I still must persist
I must keep on pushing and pushing
And when I’ve pushed my all I’ll still push some more
I’m in a different world from the one in my mind
...and I’m feeling all alone
These wordings are the SOS from my soul
Hoping the Infinite Mind may recognise and respond
My life is for the purpose of heeding a call
Each day on the grindstone of practice I sharpen my skills
Only eager to be me in the ways that only I can originally be
I believe in history to in the future appreciate me for being me
For I can never be anyone better than they are
But I can be me better than I was
So I must see the bottom inside of every cupful of coffee
I must see the light of dawn to know that it’s time to catch a little sleep
I must give my all with the promise of all
...for this is the opportunity I sought
I’m heeding the call thus pleasure fills my soul
Knowing I still have capacity for more
Soon I’ll reach the finish line and when I reach it
I’ll push it further to the limits beyond
I will never stop for as long as my heart beats on
I’m on a rugged path with my heavy cart of impossible dreams
I must push and push and push... and push some more 
Till the wheel falls off

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For His Love Will Set You Free

When the times are tough,
And the days are getting long
Open up your heart to Him,
And you will sing a different song

For His Love will Set You Free

When the tears are falling,
And misery is slowly setting in
Open up your heart to Him,
And a new life you will begin

For His Love will Set You Free

When the nights grow dark,
And you feel so all alone
Open up your heart to Him,
And feel the greatest love you’ve ever known

For His Love will Set You Free

When you feel like giving up,
And your world is slowly falling apart
Open up yourself to Him,
And let Him fill your heart

For His Love will Set You Free

When you grow confused,
And don’t know just what to believe
Open up your heart to Him,
And be ready to receive

For His Love will Set You Free

The End
by Greg P

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What Could Be This Emotional

What was that liquid drops?
Could it be the sweat of the sky or probably, the tears of angels hiding behind the sky.
I peep through my window to stir at the lonely streets at dawn only to hear hens cackling in pairs and goats bleating undertone.
Is it that their caretakers refused them food?
What could be that emotional?

I searched for days without answer, till one day I figured the direction the sky was staring shyly at as well as the direction the farm animals were gossiping towards, only to see one little fellow murmuring to himself.
'Where could his parents be? ', I think to myself.
However, the story of the hen and the chicks dawn on me.
Weeks after being hatched, mother hen can no longer feed so many mouths besides hers. So it becomes an everyone for itself affair.
What could be that emotional?

Every night with the aid of the glowingly moon, he stares motionlessly at the Nelson Mandela billboard along the street with a tear in his eye.
I noticed he beats himself up first thing every dawn though he affords a smile every night lying at the bus stop.
Mornings indeed have its problems it comes with.
Has he no friend?
Perhaps the billboard and the sky would be.
What could be that emotional?

Should I invite him in for a cup of coffee or buy him new clothes for a change?
Doing just one for him cannot put a long lasting smile on his face.
Yes! , perhaps I could say a prayer for him, with the hope that the Compassionate Creator will send rain to wash away his tears, that the rain will make his grounds fertile and that the healing rain will heal his bruised heart.
What could be this emotional?

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Shadowed by guilt and shame

Shame must have burned her countenance,
along with fear that gripped her heart;
she’s a woman in the gospel  brought into the open,
by those Pharisees and Sadducees in their attempt –
to entrap Jesus on the horns of a dilemma.

Known as legalistic in their respect for the Law of Moses,
they professed as guardians of moral principles;
they claimed as protectors of the Jewish traditions,
however, in truth, they had a wicked motive to ruin Jesus
to discredit him for all the things he’s doing for his own people.

His growing popularity especially to the Jewish men and women,
becomes a raison d’etre to ruin his good reputation;
oh, such a malady that continues to exist through generations,
the seed of original sin – its consequence to human behavior
reflected its aftermath, the evil tendency that is encrusted deep within.

Jesus’ statement, “let him who is without sin cast the first stone,”
made the religious leaders withdraw from the scene and,
starting from the elders they walked away and talked no more;
a sign of shame, an honest reaction to what is shadowed by guilt.

The entire incident focused on Jesus’ endless forgiveness,
his compassion for the woman being bogged down with disgrace;
like a moral stigma, a scarlet letter etched in the hearts of people,
with Jesus she had her past but she also has a future to look forward to.

Just as the prophet Ezekiel says, “I will give you a new heart –
and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone
and give you a heart of flesh . . .”  its power and meaning can assure,
God’s love is everlasting; our salvation is his prime concern. 

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All About Her

I dont know much about her
but I heard she wasnt that talkative
She didnt like being alive
She was numb to all the pain she had to go through

I heard she didnt like anything that was green
She ate roman noodles everynight for supper
She always wore flannels and bellbottoms
Sometimes i seen her wear dresses and fancy tops
But lately shes been wearing band shirts

She wears converse shoes and uses an army bag for school
I know that she dosent like to communicate through talking... only through her peoms
or sometimes even her songs.

I see her drawing and painting all the time
She draws famous people
She would like to be famous and not so unknown
When she tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave her alone

When she gets home she goes upstairs to play her bass guitar
She hates chocolate cake but loves chocolate
Her family left her behind because she cant forget her past

Sometimes when shes alone she contemplates the meaning behind her life
Her favorite color is gray because her life is black and white
Everything she says is false according to the world

She is not so innocent
I understand that she dreams about the perfect life
When she opens her eyes they are pitch black

She is someone that is fake
She acts nothing like she should
She is very grungy and unclean

She knows of no safety
and of no time
Her life is smashed into pieces by the giant sun

She will always be a ghost
She knows of no god
She crawls around in the world of death
She remains forgotten

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Love is Tender

Love is Tender When a gift is from the heart And the only cost is sacrifice Then the gift of love will start Yet it comes with a high price If it is spent in a foolish way As only fools fall for love You know what they say Like we all heard of Wise ones miss the opportunity For gifts of love God has given So wise I would rather not be I’ll share love while I’m living Love is tender, gentle and kind Even a giant can be gentle and mild Well that’s how I see it in my mind In matters of love he is like a child Yes love is powerful and strong Formed deeply into the heart Although it doesn’t take long To crush the sensitive part It is still fragile, delicate and fair A hurtful word is like a pin stick Causing you to slowly leak air Deflation of spirit seeps away quick It may even be a relative of blood To be very cruel and really snide Or come from a step parent’s love Knocking you mentally down inside Like crushing you under the earth Thus shutting every opened gate Through levels of low self-worth Losing the urge to communicate Without communication A new situation is caught There can be no appreciation Only fear and negative thoughts Creating so many illusions Of desires that will never be False hopes and confusion With only dreams not reality Too many wonders of why Blocks our next step to see It causes a worrisome eye If we will not just let it be It is not easy as we go Seeing road bumps to trip on Where we should actually know Instead they are stones to step upon When love fills your heart Don’t try to figure it out It’s just shaping God’s art That’s what it’s all about Enjoy each path that is sent Remember every little pebble May only be a form of disillusion-ment Not something brought on by the devil When love comes your way Take it easy and slow Give of your love how you may And the best way you know Expecting love not in return Never searching anywhere You’ll soon come to learn The right one is still not there Keep believing that love is true Thoughts do change situations Even a mustard seed of faith will do Like metaphorically moving mountains God does have a plan for us Just keep giving from your heart Until someone gives you love just because That’s when true love starts Then you will be able to let go And finally really surrender For you will actually know How true love is so tender Florence McMillian (Flo)

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My heart has a mind of its own

My heart seems to have a mind of its own,
Feelings grow from a seed that was sown.
I don’t know that much but this is true,
My heart will always feel love for you.

It’s funny how life just goes on,
Everything changed now that you’re gone.
I try to find something, I don’t know what,
I find some happiness inside what I got.

With the wind at my back, the steps that I take,
The love that you give may be the love that you make.
I stand in line to just wait for my turn,
Only to realize all that my heart yearns.

I wish for better, so I make it so,
Still, I see so many things shall go.
I wonder what happened was I to blame,
I wanted to play am I in the right game?

My heart seems to have a mind of its own,
It simply responds to everything shown.
Sometimes I’m lost and don’t know what to do,
I don’t know that much but this is true.

There is no finish without a start,
I couldn’t make it without my heart.
It gives me hope and helps me survive
 It makes me thankful to just be alive.

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The Heartless Giant

The pirates stole the giant’s heart
So that he could love no more
Carried away by horse and kart
To their ship just off the shore
The pirates had a heart attack
The giant called for a storm
They decided to take the organ back
So that things could return to norm

The ship ripped and split in two
All lives were lost at sea
The heart sank deep into the blue
But still continued to beat
Have you ever met a heartless giant?
Things would never be the same
With rage and anger he grew defiant
To make up for the pain

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We have come from every district
In the whole of our large state.
We hold a big  convention,
Every year around this date.
We greet each other cheerfully,
I’ve been friends with some for years,
Then turn back to our creations as
Completion deadline nears.

We know what the judges hope to find, 
They come from our own ranks.
They look for beauty and harmony.
Their only pay is thanks. 
We’ve memorized the scale of points
On which entries will be judged.
Each judge knows the rules by heart
And will notice if we’ve fudged. 

I stand back from my exhibit
And sincerely make a try
To see not as a mother views her child,
But with honest judge’s eye.
I carefully adjust another line
Before it is time to depart.
The judges are impatient for 
Their judging rounds to start.

I wander to another room
Where judging is all done.
I find to my amazement that
My chamaecypais nookatensis has won.
It has taken the arboreal award.
That is a nice surprise.
But it is in the other room
Where result of my labor lies.

We try to cheer each other
As we stay to hear our fate.
The judging books are closing.
We will not have long to wait.
I spy from far across the way,
Red ribbon lying there.
My flower arrangement’s taken second,
Which to first cannot compare.

I hide my disappointment
And hold back a falling tear.
And vow to win the big one
In the Flower Show next year.


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Memoir: Crashing Women's Studies- Feminists, BEWARE lol

Don't ask me how it happened; I have no clear recollection. I have always had this brazen habit of coming right out and directly asking for whatever I want; I always figured "no!" was the only worst possible outcome, aside from a good cussing, perhaps. Either or both I can handle.

My best friend, who had invited me to this event, wasn't even a speaker; she was just present for class credit and I had nothing better to do so I happily joined her. Her professor was the director, or MC, of the night's festivities and proceedings and Jill introduced us soon after we entered the banquet hall and before the speaking commenced.

I also have this horrid habit of mentioning that I am an artist to anyone of any importance or significance whatsoever, hoping to sound gallant and impressive. I can only surmise that Jill's teacher asked me what kind of artist I was, and I must have boldly stated, with an air of haughty confidence no doubt, that I was a de facto grand poet of the ages. I was only 19 at the time and thought I was Poe! My style was sloppy and unrefined, but I didn't know it yet.

Given that this was a "Women's Studies" organization and all guest speakers that night were, obviously, going to be female, I don't know how I convinced, finagled, schemed, bulled, or mechanized my way into making myself an impromptu speaker as well that evening. It was an "anything goes" type platform, from women reading poetry to short stories, to essays or presenting artwork. I was, I kid you not, the first male to EVER be a speaker at this "Women's Studies" gathering.

Having committed many of my poems to memory, I just quickly jotted down four or five particular favorites, and when it was my time to speak, impertinently stepped right up to the platform, adjusted the microphone, and recited my horrible poetry to a group of...I'm not sure if "feminists" is quite the word for which I am searching. Let's just say that if Gloria Steinem or Gertrude Stein had been in the audience, I might have been yanked off the podium. So there I was, babbling about, having basically crashed this Feminist rally. That I wasn't mauled or had my eyes scratched out can only be attributed to luck, progressive-thinking, guardian Angels or plain ol' polite courtesy. In retrospect, I blanch at the thought of my shameless, unabashed audacity.

I would love to know whether any more males ever took part in anymore of their events, but I guess I'll never know and can only hope that little bit of history I made that night remains intact. True story.

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They stand alone in stark contrast to their surroundings.  Derelict, they speak of a time past, when they played a role in, no, were the heart of the community.  Gone is the smoke filled air billowing from the monolithic chimneys, spewing the acrid smell of wood and coal fired burners.  Gone is the cacophonous sound of the belt driven machines, never pausing, providing the textiles, the shoes, and the lumber for a growing nation.  The mill was the town.  The town was the mill.  Men, women, entire families, streamed in from Ireland, Canada, Asia, and Europe, all in hopes of finding work in the mills. .  Rural New England families sent their daughters to fulfill needs, wishes, and dreams,   Looking to find something better then the poverty and pain they left behind.

Cultures clashed and families melded.  Ethnicity's struggled to survive, while slowly being pulled apart.  Towns grew to cities.  Roots were set.  Standards established.  Normality changed virtually overnight.  It was a hard life, but one lived with pride.  Workers labored through twelve and fourteen hour days, six days a week, reserving only Sunday to reflect on how lucky they were and give thanks.

Through a war that consumed a generation, they toiled.  Those that could fight, did.  Those left behind molded the fabric and leather and logs and iron that became the clothes and tents and weapons that supported their effort.

Disease and infirmities squeezed the life from their bodies.  The ravages of the mills took their toll.  Many gave their lives to the mills.  Many others took their place.

From this a nation, grew and prospered on the backs of those that had a dream and chased it.  In the hearts of those that believed that there would be a better tomorrow if only they could get through today.  It became their country and they strove to defend it and nurture it, cost be damned.

I gaze now upon the mill.  Silent, it watches today, remembers yesterday.  A piece of history, long ignored.  I do not see the weathered stone and hollow windows.  I see instead a monument.  It says to me “ I am that from which this city sprung.  I did not abandon you as you did me.  Inside, my heart still beats.  I am the spark that ignited freedoms flame.  I provided the mothers milk of opportunity.  I am your foundation.  In my halls a country was built.  My empty floors now store the memories of a nation”.

They stand alone in stark contrast to their surroundings.  Derelict, they speak of a time past.

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True Love of a False Lover

Disturbed in daily thoughts
Thinking U all the way through
Longing for our old memories to flash.

Impressed by YOUR possessiveness
Also impressing U by my care
Trying to keep U with me alone.

Love which occurred strangely
Caused holding U tightly - when
U said I never leave u forsaken

Intending to make U close – though
Knowing that U’va been stolen by another HEART,
In U I fell in TruE LOVE for the first time.

Pretended to kiss, hug and embrace
Made my mind set to co-operate with UR actions
Made to forget UR first Love.

Chanceless Loving WORDS from UR mouth – which
Guided to share my incompleteness
Thereby aroused a pinch of Lust.

Hardened to control my Emotions
I SURRENDERED myself unto U
Been excited and ejaculated with UR hot touch

Altering my valued hours to spend conversing with U
Never expected such things would happen
Dragging UR presence all where and at all-time in my mind.

Nature’s call of age bonded us elastically
But its not our faults – it’s the situation that made improper future ideas
Still finding the reason – why U’va started avoiding suddenly ?¿
Still finding the reason – for what
Purpose U proposed even though having another girl’s heart in UR mind
Still finding the reason for our New Love
Its now impossible for me to return back to my old attitude
Where have my concentration went?
Where have my devoted feelings went?
Will I get back to it or not?
My mind is not under my control
Please don't see back my love
I don have another Heart to loose.

Daring new courageous behavior in my day-to-day life
U are the only reason beyond many things
My future is (?) with OUT UR hands holded
These are not just a stanzas which can be erased easily~
Its my lovable and unforgettable PERIODS – which
Makes to remember UR name and bitter sweet thoughts
Only few or no one can understand the hidden message in these lines. It is – *!!! THIS REVEALS UR NAME IN 
I’ve learnt how to live my forthcoming days.
Really THANK U love for the creation of certain Best characters in me.
I’ll never forget U till my last breath
May U have a wonderful and peaceful Married Life further.
For the first time I feel reality more strange than imagination
In fact it seems to be a TrUe LOVE of a FALSE Lover. It covers-
  A poetic story from	         Your’S & Only YOURS,
				         - Hannah (with tears° ° °) 

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The Guitarist's Passion

With every note there comes a motion 

With every motion another note 

Simultaneous facial expressions form 

From harmonious melodies the guitarist wrote 

He unselfishly shares his immensely sharp talent 

With patrons he lovingly calls friends 

Grateful friends that listen in true adoration 

Hoping and praying his performance does not end 

They cannot help but twist and shout or simply tap their feet 

To the tireless momentum of lightning fast fingers 

Evoking emotions that mesh with the beat 

Bringing feelings of thrills that forever linger 

The crowd cheers on as the guitarist performs 

Casting expressions through sounds being born 

From his guitar that exudes a true love of life 

Exalting to feverous peaks of delight 

The guitarist will be the first to tell you 

That his out of this world talent is not of his own 

In humble hesitation that exists in his voice, slightly trembling 

Spills out confessions for God’s Love, all powerful, never ending 


Author: David G. Pennington 

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Green is Yellow Mixed With Blue

Through the corner of my eye I see the bride and the groom,
Slowly our corneas make contact I'm the elephant in the room.

A drunken night.
Sex combined with spite.
Makes a tainted marriage,
a fractured life.

"Speak now" said the priest, "or forever hold your peace."
The best man raised his hand and dropped to one knee.

"I can't let you take what is mine, I fell in love with her first
to me she's more than a bride. She's what keeps my hearts beating, she's whats make the sunshine, the air keeping me breathing"

The woman dressed in white looked down than looked right,
at the man dressed in regret, the man with green eyes.

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Big Bang in Red

She felt her own energy;
like a new universe forming. The fingers
that were rubbing between her thighs
made her adrenaline to shoot like stars, planets, 
and moons parting away from each other forming a 
Universe. The orgasm she experienced triggered a chain
reaction within her, that made her body to feel new and replenished.
Her face glowed in different shades of red, as she gave out a soft
aaahhhh...... from her cherry-tasting lips.
Her bed felt cotton clouds in the night sky. It was the most divine sensual
feeling she had ever experienced!

Contest: Hotsy Totsy 

Date: 16/02/2015

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Fond Memories Of My Dad From Dustin

I want to share a few, Fond memories of my dad, With an experience or two, Of the times together we had. He was a carpenter by trade, Just like Jesus used to be, But the full time job with mom he made, Was taking care of me. I remember things we did together, When I was five years old, My first fishing trip, buying my first heifer, And letting me ride a steer in a rodeo. Fixing a racecar up together was fun, It was for me to race someday, Even though it was work that was done, It seemed more like play. It was in April of 2001, When my dad helped me find a steer, I named him Blazer and he was the one, That I thought would bring a winning year. I looked forward to the pick up day to be, When my dad would be breaking in the steer, And it would be just dad and me, Because my mom, of that, she had a fear. Before he had a chance to break her in, He had a heart attack and had to rest, He told me that I’d have to step in, And just try to do my best. I was a little worried and not so sure, If I could even really do this stuff, And since it had always been my dad before, I waited for my dad to guide me when he had strength enough. My dad wanted to help me more but he was too sick, So I tried even harder this time around, And Blazer sure didn’t like the show stick, But I finally got him to walk with me on the ground. And the time came that I knew then, Blazer would be ready for the Auction show, But my dad had another heart attack again, And I realized there was life lesson for me to know. The lesson that I have learned here, Is that sometimes we really do, Take for granted our family will always be there, But you never know when they won’t be able to help you. As the brightest star in the sky, Reminds me of Nana, my dad’s mother, There is now another bright star near by, For dad and the love we shared with each other. Written for Dustin 5/27/2003 Florence McMillian (Flo)

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The Art of Living Part One

Helen Caccumise was a very inspirational person. She loved drawing, painting, music 
and reading books. She owned a Veterans home in Greenwich Ohio, where I live. She 
has known my grandma Sandy for thirty years. They started the Veterans Home 
together. I always went up to the veterans home when I was little; it was around the 
time I started to call Helen, Granny Helen. She was a second mother to everyone. She 
would be the one to say that everyone looks for the perfect life to step into. They take 
all the right paths to get where they want to go, but no matter what, they always come 
back home to themselves. I usually went up there to hang out with a guy named Pat, he 
was a veteran. He went into the service when he was in his twenties. We were best 
friends but then something happened and everything changed when Megan (Helen’s 
Daughter) took over the veteran’s home. Helen lived in the house across from ours, so i 
always went to her house. She bought me my first ferby. She was the one that told my 
sister if she ate a full cigarette that she would be a smoker when she got older. Of 
course my sister ate it; guess what she is now a full time smoker, it’s funny how things 
work out that way.I’m writing about what happened the day Helen died because it’s still 
fresh in my memory, like it happened yesterday. I’m still getting over the loss of her. I 
spent most of my time with Helen because she helped me through my troubled times 
and she always wanted to listen to me play my bass guitar. So I owe her everything I 
own. If writing this memoir would help me find a way to get rid of the guilt then I’ll do it.

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In Pursuit of Happiness

Happiness, happiness, happiness
The one thing we all seek
What does it really mean
The million tonnes of gold we hoard
Or the millions of cash stashed in a bank’s vault
Fleets of expensive cars cruising the streets
Or diamond ornaments glittering for all to see
Big parties on yachts and clouds just to please
Or a program on tevee just so they may see who it really is
All these yet at the end of the day the heart is still not at ease
The look within doesn’t satisfy nor please
So what really is missing
Happiness surely does exist
And the truth is that there isn’t a price to it
Just a smile and a honest heart spreads the enthusiasm with ease
Hearts can’t be bought but friendships can be bribed
It’s a choice we all must make
To live at ease in adequate means
Or to cheat and connive to acquire wealth built of lies
At the end of it all, the only room big enough is the one in your soul
At the end of the day 
...the only compliment worth to be heard is that which you give yourself
The only true best friend one can have is the one in the mirror
For with that friend is where happiness begins
How can you love others if you can’t love yourself
How can I honestly appreciate others if I can’t appreciate myself
How can they find happiness if they don’t know what it means
Happiness is the only thing that the blind can see 
...better than the ones who see
Happiness is the only thing that the deaf can hear 
...better than those who hear
Happiness activates the limbs of the handicapped
While those appropriately moulded still don’t function efficiently in it
Happiness is a destination to which no one can cheat
For it requires a sincere pass in each and everyone’s mind and heart
You may cheat me with your smile
But you can’t cheat the you inside
It’s not about me, it’s not about us...It is about you
This reality is a syndicate for your happiness
Question is, do you recognise it
You can afford to buy off all your past
And keep it under lock and throw away the keys
What matters is now
...for it is here that happiness is to be found
Looking back only presents regrets
Looking ahead only presents worries
It is only when you are happy that tomorrow promises to be a blessing

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Turned Tables

What if the tables had been turned...
And it was her, looking at me
Seeing what the eyes can't believe
And what the heart can't embrace

I'm looking into sorrow's face
The sadness wraps itself around her 
Like a blanket of grey fog
A face so pale, so ashen and cold as a winter's day
Betrayed and abandoned by her youth
The girl she used to be....why can't I find a trace?
A youth taken away by choices,  
By circumstance, by life experiences 
By things that I cannot know
My memory of her has been stolen away 
In this unexpected, brief encounter
I swallow tears in my grief, as I mourn the vision
That had been tucked away in my heart for so long
Is it regret, or is it a guilt I cannot name?

A friendship born in childhood, so young, so carefree
She, with bright eyes, and blond hair that curled
Around her high cheeks and rosy smile
She was the one who shined so brightly,
Who's charm, who's gay laughter I had so admired
A childhood where we danced together in sweet grass under sunny skies
Where is the innocence, the radiance?
No longer there, not even a glimpse of the girl I knew

Oh, how I weep inside
Now, here, this meeting by chance
After years that had taken us to seperate worlds 
In my mind, and in my dreams, she had always been
The fair maiden, the one who had held my hand
Two little girls who made promises
Who sat in the dark, under a summertime sky
By the light of the moon and wished upon the stars.
The stars now gone from her sad eyes, the look of weary miles
Now fill the void one more time.....
                                         we say our goodbye.

What if the tables were turned
And it was her, looking at me.....

In honor of Desiree's Contest "What If"

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Times of yore

Life is more like a book
Its chapter never closes
How do I bury my times of yore?

Each corner I turn
Each route and avenue I take
There are my times of yore 
Right in my way

Malls and shopping complexes
Brings back all the memories
The good times we had.

Our favourite restaurants
There waiter that served us there very first time 
The sport we picked on our very first date 
Excavate my yore

The first smile
The first hug
The first stroll

Our sing along song
My music collection
Her favourite T.V show 
Brings back memories of us together

I am sick of my past
My time of yore always catches up with me
How do I close her chapter in my life? 
I crushed her heart into pieces

Her innocent heart is haunting me
I carry the burden of dishonesty
The weight of being deceitful is intense
I was inconsiderate 

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When would the vegetables in my farmland grow?
Others have harvested theirs but mine is yet
To germinate after many month of impatient wait
Take the children away and share them among my brethren
I have no money to train them but I can impregnate women
As many times as they want it am a man
Here I would sit and would not journey to the mountains
My life is too precious to me to suffer in vain when others would work
And then I eat without laboring among them in the farm

Where are they going this early morning?
My legs have developed the mind of their own
I can’t risk taken that bold step of faith
 My life would be better soon as I live
It is well with my soul at home.
Come fear and dwell in my abode
Come weakness and entangle my legs
I can’t take risk unnecessarily to the mountains
The governments are bad to the core
The economy is not favourable to me

How would I move forward when I am not like them?
They are better than me in every thing they do
The rich men had stolen all the money
Poor I am without bread to eat
Commoners are voiceless and I can’t express my self
I would remain here until I die in penury
Perhaps my potential shall be useful in the graveyard
What should I think of while I am poor?
I didn’t go to school, I won’t make it
My children shall build the houses in my compound
I am too old to work

Can I make it without a platform?
The governments are the rogues in the country
Why was I born without money and wealth?
Twenty four hours is too small for me to work
The lizards in my house are for decoration
 I would sleep all day hustling don’t pay
Soon I would rule the country and steal their funds

Make the bed for me I want to sleep
Posterity would not count on me
Why should I work day and night when
They all sit at home and steal money with pen?
I won’t work but I shall be rich
Advice are meant for the fools

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The Vision

Here it is – my book of poetry
With all its sadness and joy
With all my confessions
So tender and so cruel
Its second edition would never be released
It would be laughed at and misunderstood
It would be thrown into attics or basements
It would be torn and destroyed
But what does it matter?
I am asking myself, writing the final verse
What does it matter?
With a sudden intensity, 
As if I saw it clear for a moment,
I wrote the last word and it was done! Finished!
Yes, I though,  experiencing
Extreme fatigue and extreme satisfaction-
I have had my ?wn vision!

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The mouth, 
It enters with a crisp tongue and a spinning pendulum
Like a stick-shift on 4 pivots
Making its way through a flourishing garden
Delicious sounds wisp as smoke through pardons
Painting destructive criticism with delicate regard and
Proceeding as moth with flame, eyre in eyre
and skein in skein
Somewhere in the reigns, meaning becomes tangled in the wings
As it writes a story of friction
The diction of the beginning, end and enduring ambience
As was, is, and needn't admit 
It grips the listening agents and moves to the foregrounds of their lips
Roses blush from the insatiable pits of their stomachs
Breathing new life its first sentence
From the humbling utterances of syntactic structures
Modeled as people
Steepled in last years words
Mumbled and tumbled
Before you
The word

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My Dear Poets, My Dear Friends

A Poet may think, he or she is good
A Poet may write of daffodils of white,
or a roaring stream, capped, enraged
running for a quiet place, a solemn place

A Poet may dream of higher aspirations
of floating on clouds of powder cotton candy 
while riding a Bull, in it's stride to rid the rider
then turn suddenly, to a field of umber wheat

A Poet may wish for greater things to come
when in reality, wealth will only come when
The Poet is dead and gone, more remembered
in death, than in life so aimlessly lost

 A Poet may think they are at their best
in younger years, when thoughts are fresh
new, and easily come by, yet form experience
I find that not to be true, This is what I have found,

A True Poet is wise, whether from age or the 
experiences they have lived, and died for,
A true Poet, Has a heart, Lives their heart
and can tell their Heart from all others,

I am a Published Poet, yet I am a Poet
I am a Poet Laurette, yet I am a Poet,
I am an International Poet Laurette,
To me,I am just a Poet, with a Heart

With all my Kudos and all my friends, 
the Kudos I have thrown in a trunk,
My Poet Friends I hold dear, I say this
Do not write for acclamation, Indeed no!

That will truly, only come upon death,
Write from the Personal, your Love,
Your Heart, Your Heart break, Lust
Desires, Lorne, Beauty, Ugliness 

These things a Poet makes, Not Glory
Not Fame, Not institution, Heart....
Write of yourself, Your weaknesses, 
Your Strengths, Your Desires..... You!

You will come to know who you are
others will come to know you,
Your Fame will come to be in that which
you tell, And you will have PEACE!

I have Learned.... God Bless all my Poet Friends...... Live .... God Bless you all!!!!

The original.........TAZ

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A Famous Poetess

With her timeless sonnets, timeless beauty 
And flames which engulfed her and encouraged her, 
She spreads her wings across the centuries 
Flying, asking the whole world, not to let her verse 
Disappear and disperse 

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The true happiness my heart needs

Today I managed to sneak into the realm of time
Twenty years ahead to the dream I hoped to realise
And yes, it really did come to life
 	~~~ 	~~~	~~~
I look up at the wall for the signs I hung
When I was merely twenty four
Now here I am, forty four and living it all

The first sign I put up twenty years ago said
‘Day by day in every way, I am becoming more and more successful’
In the reality of these times that statement couldn’t be truer
I have it all!
If you want to know it’s true, just look beneath my soles
My floor is made of gold!

I look up at the other marble wall
In the ruby frame are the words laced in crystals
That ‘Every moment that lapses, gets me a step closer to my dreams’
Wow, what I a visionary I had been
For yes, here I stand
Three hundred and thirty three storeys above the ground
I’m so high up I can wave and say hi to the angels on heaven’s doors
I truly was an eagle after all and I’ve found my nest above it all
The clouds below are so beautiful
And the air hostesses wink at me as the plane zooms by
And yes, I can  see the world is really round

I look up to the other wall, and next to its titanium beam I see
The sign I put up twenty years back when I didn’t have money to even buy anything 
It said then as it proclaims now...
‘We think and talk only of prosperity here’
That couldn’t be made clearer than by this reality here
Prosperity in all I see and feel
The banks I own have trouble storing all my gold
And their computers have trouble controlling the trail of zeroes behind the digits of 
my money

Wow! It’s all so nice
But I’m still lonely
What is it worth... all these here to have is there’s no smile to warm my heart
I can have everything I want but a sincere soul to call mate
How I wish for some pretty angel to love me

Man, I have to go back fast, twenty years in history when all this was still a 
dreamer’s story
Back then when I could strum it on a guitar hoping to be swayed by a darling who 
read my poems
I have to go back fast, to set it all right
For now I know this will all come to pass
But it won’t be worth its touch without a family to fill my heart with love and pride
Let me go twenty years back in time,
And pray for fate to help me find, the true wealth my soul seeks
The true happiness my heart needs

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Song of the late night sorrow contest

Come fluttering words, come drifting words to me  . . .
Open my eyes to what I can’t see,

Their on the floor I found what was missing,
As I recall all the nights we spent kissing,

You ran out so fast and did not give me a chance,
I told you my heart and you just gave me a glance,

Now on the ground I spot are new fate,	
A ring filled with pearls, I must be too late,

I just needed a moment to truly explain,
Instead you ran quickly into the pouring rain,

You spoke with passion, hunger and thirst,
I felt as though my heart would suddenly burst,

But then you enquired about me being your bride,
It caught me off guard like the evening tide,

Marriage is sacred to me my dear,
I cannot just say yes and have you disappear,

I know you are leaving early tomorrow,
And now I taste tears filled with such sorrow,

But I would have waited here for you,
For there is no one else I would want to pursue,

The nights hold our love like a candle with its fire,
Your touch is so precious my ultimate desire,

Please come back to me and make this right,
I will wait for you on this disastrous night,

Even the stars scream out my plea,
Floating through space and eternity,

I meant no such harm by the words I spoke,
They echo in mind as I simply choke,

Oh dreadful darkness have mercy on me,
Bring back the one who makes me happy,

I am left paralyzed in the silence of this night,
With just a symbol of our love to fill my hearts appetite,

If morning comes and you’re not back,
Nothing will fill this internal lack,

So I scream out to the crescent moon,
While Praying that you will come back here soon.

By Sabina Nicole
Date written: 7/25/11
"What is she thinking"

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Hearts Dinner (2005)

Sudden shock and nervous block
All your heart strings begin to lock
Secrets of the past come back from where they hide
In your heart they are eating you up inside

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The Tears of a Poetess

Her tears are water, salt water
But I can see the ocean behind her
I can breathe it in, I can taste my own tears
They awake my sleeping world
Because I know that each drop
Represents the inward cry
For peace, light, bliss
And when I read her words, 
Smeared with tears, 
The pain within me gets out
 Into the sunlight
With a blazing terror
And awestruck love

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Football Burt

So tender in years,
my heart still unhurt,
I remember his name,
sexy football Burt.

All the girls,
would moan, and sigh,
every time,
this hunk passed by.

Not a beauty,
I was tall, and lean,
some called me beanpole,
kids can be so mean.

So unnoticed,
and so very shy,
if a guy spoke to me,
I would nearly die.

My face turned red,
as my heart raced crazy wild,
it happened every time,
a guy would smile.

Then it seemed,
a change came overnight,
my clothes started clinging,
to my curves overnight.

My hair started growing,
and the color changed,
the sunshine had bleached it,
or that was what I claimed.

Enjoying my freshman year
in my mini skirt,
a high school girl,
learning to flirt.

So tender in years,
my heart still unhurt,
I remember his name,
sexy football Burt.

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The Hobo

Time's moments takes it's toll
 adding gravitational pull
To a body, so weighed down
 His chin can touch the ground
With pain visible on his face
 He lives sans his wit, and grace
A life of selfishness, his crime
 now sentenced, to a duel with time
And time's blatent tenacity
 plus it's control over eternity
Reminds the man how much it's cost
 for him to realize what he's lost
So he wears time's final wrath
 As he walks life's thorny path
All alone without a friend
 He walks the path to journey's end

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Beautiful Fire

I thought you knew me

But I guess I was wrong.


I handed you my heart

And you returned to me ashes.

Touch like blue fire,

You seared away my soul.


In the end I still loved you,

You with no heart and no soul.

You’re the beautiful flames;

So dangerous, but so irresistible to me.


That look in your eyes

When you told me it was over.

Your eyes showed hatred,

But your heart still stuttered inside.


Your eyes burned away the last of me,

For I couldn’t see within you.

You hid my salvation,

And my heart was lost in the past.


It’s still stuck there,

My burned, loving heart.

It’s waiting for you to remember

And to burn me once more.


For you are the beautiful fire

That my heart beats for alone.

And I will wait forever

For the return of your flames.

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Fantasy Fuels the Flames (Co-Written with James Fraser)

Running her hand over her smooth, long leg
She sips red wine and tosses back her hair
The smokey air in the Main Street bar
Seems to lift when she sees him there
Across the room, a lady catches his eye
Dressed to impress -- for whom he wonders
Thoughts start to flow as he politely stares
In his mind he imagines sensual plunders
Rugged and handsome, he heads her way
An inviting smile lights up her face
She pats an empty stool, gives a sign
Hoping he'll find his way to this place
"Good evening to you, have we met before?"
As he runs his eyes down her curvaceous frame
My name is James, pleased to meet you
His heart on fire with his yearning flame
"You DO look familiar," she whispers
The fire in his eyes sets off a spark
"But I can only see your outline;
This room is hot and way too dark"
I don't mean to sound forward, let's vacate this bar
Let's take a walk, forget about this place
I have a flat round the corner, it's not very far
It's bright, warm and cozy; we will have our own space
Strolling through snowfall; he offers a coat 
Placing it over her low-cut sweater
Then leads her up a long flight of stairs
The door opens, "Ah, now that's much better!"
Please, make yourself at home, may i get you a drink
I'll turn the heat on, take the chill out of the air
He hands her a cocktail and she responds with a wink 
As he towels her wet shoulders and long blond hair
A night of passion; they intertwine
"I'm so glad you found me," she sighs
"Your timing, as always, was just right"
She adds as she shades morning sun from his eyes
He stirs and turns saying, "Mrs. Mayo, last night was bliss
You were sensuous and ripe, like the day we first loved
Your limpet like lips, seduced as we kissed
We caressed each other as if we were gloved"

"We MUST go on meeting like last night, Mr. Mayo,
To fan the flames in our decades-long marriage
You hold the key to my heart in your passion
And our fantasies lift us like a heaven-bound carriage"

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I will always love you

You know I will always love you 
Far beyond eternity 
Much longer then forever 
For you meant so much to me 
Longer then a million lifetimes 
As long as time has its place 
I will always have you in my heart 
Soul to soul and face to face 
You will be there in my waking hours 
I will spend time in your dreams 
Two heartfelt souls together 
Embracing love as warm as it seems 
You know I will love you forever 
I can feel you in my veins 
In every single breath I take 
I can even sense your pain 
But there is nothing here quite like it 
And nothing that can compare 
With the fire and the passion 
And the depth of love we share 
There’s a friendship that holds us together 
Even when we are a part 
Through many smiles and laughter 
And caring words from the heart 
Through the aches of separation 
Reminding us just how we feel 
Often speaking the words “ I love you” 
Is most caringly revealed 
You know I will always love you 
You are the answer to my prayers 
My sweet and guiding angel 
For in life no one can compare 
With the love that you have given me 
And your words so soft and true 
To tell you over and over again 
I will always be in love with you

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The world was dark blue as only the full moon and twinkling stars light the deadly stillness.
A lake as dark and steady as death should be
A white light was gleaming in the emptiness
I didn't know what it was...
A mermaid from the lake? 
An angel from God?
All I knew is that it was a She             
I said hello. She giggled..
And Oh her giggle played with my ears     
I asked again, who are you?
She giggled another time and said, Come closer to see
As my heart was beating like a jungle drum I stepped forward
I was shocked because I saw something more beautiful than anything in the world         
I was speechless, I was paralyzed...
The entire world seemed to stop, the hushing of the trees seemed miles away
My legs felt weak, my heart took flight
I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing 
Because they were seeing... You

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Title Taken

The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank.
Winter filled room in the middle of june.
Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.

Now I scavage for remains of my soul.
ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return.
Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.

The page stayed empty for a reason.
They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.

Me the fool brave or foolish enough to  attempt the
impossible  with little to show for it.
A broken relationship and some bad tattos  in 
some  weird places.

To be stuck down in a  hollow .
Is fine  with suplies lowand the truth a sober mind brings 
time was ticking the false deadline was apon me.
And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test.
I was stuggling  waitting for the teacher to say times up.

Hands shaking from the need throat dry  and a headache
that would last for a week.
Why had it always come to this  isolation.

Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back.
Like a lover calling me back to bed.
To entangle untill the mornings light.

Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title 
kept me trapped to this place for nights on end.
You cant grasp what is never yours its 
like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.

Everytime you find  one with which your heart agree's 
 You find the titles taken.
life and love will always  bring you to your knees.

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Limitless Lust

Introduction: Limit itself has a limit of its own…

A walk, mile after mile
In quest for my lost soul,
I had forgotten how to smile
Everything felt out of control,
I fought too hard to be worthwhile
By that I got lost in my life’s hole

The regrets for mistakes I’ve made
It took me off the edge, way too far away;
Yet I tried again so hard to get off from that shade
But got caught up in my brutal fray,
The same song keeps playing with such a vicious rage,
I find myself down to my knees, nowhere to go - So I pray

A prayer to leave the worst and move onto more,
Come off this fantasy and onto reality, to be -
Closer to something I’ve been fighting for
The touch of the light cutting through the night, it rains down upon me
As I overcome the grief and believe, recovery lies ashore,
Only three steps remain, to be fixed and free.

A lesson of value I earned from my faults -
Never push yourself off the edge,
You’ll lose the only key to the vault
A life you never had to live – It too could forever be lost,
So stay confined within the limits of the limit
As it seems - Your control over lust, only can make you complete.

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Bag packed and ticket in hand, to the door i head...
one punch, two punch, three punch.. i hit the ground
prismatic black skies studed with diamonds surround me
as i stand in the middle of my fantasy heart, wearing the mos
beautiful pillow talk pink gown. coming towards me is my
dark princs, wearing the most dashing black suit with pink
accents. he takes my hand, spins me around and we dance in
each others arms for what seemed like forever and always.
his refl ection in my eyes, his in mine..feeling so safe
my bliss interupted by strange voices asking me if i know
where i am..

my eyes open and all i see is white...white walls, white
bed, blanket machines and a white chair in the corner being
occupied by a familiar face...
“you have changed your future”
“hi popee, how are you?”
“you’re going to be ok”
“i love you”
“i love you too popee”
i fade back to reality...doctors and nurses surrounding me..
“ms. sabo youre going to be just fi ne”
“can you tell me what you remember?”
“i remember, but would rather not go down that road right

“well just rest and dont worry, the cuts and bruises will
heal with minimal scaring. you’ll be back to your normal self
in no time”
yeah right, normal...whatever that is. my eyes grow heavy
and i slowly drift away back to my fantasy heart. to the one
place where i feel safe. if only my fantasy heart were reality,
then maybe...just heart wouldnt have felt such
derra...derra, its 7:30...time to get up

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when things are springing and
i'm diggin' into a lively summer
and the sun's downing the day
and the earth's warm with love

i play, i dig, i dream
i work, then play some more
i pluck, and turn, and wet
my appetite for life

retiring to repast
i pull my digits to 
a pentagon point and
inhale - deeply the scents
from under fingernails

a loamy tanged radish
relishing heritage cukes
meeting bliss of better boys
better days, even now
a botany so lustful,
and good moaning too

soon the cooling solstice
will fallow your terra 
but now, your swelling,
your musky fragrance
brings orgasm of appreciation
and appetite for even more

to wish to share it
the sheerness of light
the fragrant breeze inhales
the sense of scents
and a budding lingual taste
- the dirt of desire

© Goode Guy 2013-05-28

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My Birthday Wish

I sit on the floor and wait from dusk to dawn, for a new day will soon be reborn. I count all 
the blooming flowers, and count down the long hours, while mum takes her shower. 
Today's the day, for it's my birthday. I hope I get A car, or A guitar or maybe even become 
A movie star, but that's asking A bit too much of me. I walk around singing out A loud, 
acting proud feeling as if my heads in A cloud. To my surprise I start stumbling over my 
words and begin mumbling. Maybe mum just forgot about me, or are they just hiding the 
presents from me? I walk through the hall, with my head dragging looking at the floor, 
and go to bed with my heart feeling torn. It's getting late and I can no longer wait. I turn 
off my light, and close my eyes and cry having so much things go through my mind. I 
drift to sleep but then I see, mum walking in my room in the middle of the night with A 
light. It's so bright. She raises my heart like A kite, taking of it flight and she says, good 
night, and turns of the lights. She raised my hopes high and then shot them out of the 
sky. I break down and cry, it feels as if I've just died. No one remembered why today was 
A special day for it was my birthday. I look at the sky and wonder why? I light my candle 
and close my eyes, tears dripping down onto my thighs, and I start to whisper in my 
mind. "I don't want A car, or even A guitar. I don't even want to become A movie star. I 
just want to be free of this disease called poverty, I just want people to stop running away 
from me. Free me of aids so I can stop feeling afraid. Stop me from being poor, so I can 
afford to stop sleeping on the floor. Make me smile for there is no reason to smile, but 
please make my life worth while. Take me away from Africa, for all I see is people being 
raped and all the kids hearts filled with hate, I'm loosing my faith for I am living each day 
even though there is nothing to live for". A Tear drops on my candle, And puts out the 
flame I whisper in pain,This is "My Birthday Wish"
We wish for luxuries that only money can afford. They wish for water for they are poor. 
People need to learn to smile, for kids living in poverty have A legitimate reason not too. 
Be happy for what we have, and never complain for what we don't have.
- Wiko Te Maru

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Crimson Walls

I awaken from this peaceful slumber and shake
myself to empty my eyes of the sleep that has resided there.
As my eyelids slowly open they are met with the
most brilliant crimson that I could ever imagine.
A scarlet so pure that I’m sure I have
never before experienced its color,
never seen anything so soothing;
for in its hues I find a warmth and peace
that has never touched this heart of mine.
As I rise to my feet I’m relaxed by the
tranquility that I feel in my heart.
The walls that are before me glisten with that warmth and brilliance.
As I move about I recognize that there are
no doors or windows in my new surroundings.
Nevertheless, I feel no fear of entrapment or threat
for I am secure by the presence that I feel around me;
a reassurance that all is at harmony within my heart and soul.
But I have to ask myself, where am I and what has brought
me to this place of enchantment? While I ponder that question
something speaks to my heart, not in 
audible words as spoken by an orator
but something revealed to me through my spirit
as if whispered from your spirit to mine.
Oh yes, now I understand what is being
conveyed to me through this awareness.
I have awakened within the confines of your heart.
Now there is no way out and I shall be forever grateful,
and what better place to be than here.
Janice Elaine Smith
April 1, 2009

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The Poets

They are truth wearers
They scream, cry, whisper, sing, laugh
Sometimes, people hate them
For displaying their wounds and scars
For making them sad and careless
For making them see the reality
Sometimes, people love them
Because of them, they dance
In the temples, on the beaches,
Through crowded streets
Because of them, blue sky , painted with gold
Rule the day
And when they read these wonderful poems
The veils which hide the light fall down
And the glowing comets 
Flash around their suns

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Her Wisdom

She is very careful about what she writes
Because she has found that
Although something is not true today
It may be true tomorrow
She knows, she knows without having learnt
Her simplicity comprehends the secret that
So-called intellectuals have altered
Her wonderful mind makes her light as a butterfly
Giving her different versions of truth
Which seduce, ease, comfort and survive

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The Happiest Days Of One Souls Life

The happiest days of one souls life......

To the spirit that dwells within one heart 
a simple man reveals a song of praise
with white pages of truth revealed
a Psalms of great belief he sings  

along the road of hopeful hearts
a simple piece of grace surround
he calls for unity among men of strength
a word of love a heart ingrained 

He kneels in silence
his heart aglow 
with one armed raised
a nutured seed he sows 

finding glory of a new days grace
a happy soul, invigorate......
the happiest days of one souls life......


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Psalm 21-I  For this day . GOOD FRIDAY

A Prophecy of the Passion of our Lord

My God my God why hast thou forsaken me? Thou art far from my prayers.
From the words of my cry.

3) My God I cry during the day, and thou dost not answer, and in the night, and thou dost not heed me.

7) But I am a worm and not a man, the scorn of men and despised by the people,
8) All sho see me scoff at me, they open wide their mouths and wag their head:

9) “He trusts in the Lord: let Him deliver him, let him save him if He loves him.”

10) indeed thou didst bring me forth from the womb; thou madest me secure on my mother’s breast.
11) to thee I was committed at my birth, From my mothers WOMB thou art my God.12) Stand not far from me, for I am in distress; draw near: for there is none to help.


14) They open their mouths against me like a ravenous and roaring lion.
15) I am poured out like water, all my bones are disjointed:
My heart has become like wax, melting away within my breast.

16) My  throat is dried up like a potsherd, my tongue cleaves to my jaws, and in the dust of death thou hast laid me.

17) for many dogs surround me, a gang of evil doers encircles me.
      They have pierced my hands and my feet, 

18)  I can count all my bones. They indeed look and gloat over me; they
19) divide my garments among them, and for my vesture they cast lots.

Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
Just one of the prophecies in the old testament that did come to pass.
Have a holy and reflective Good Friday everyone.

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The Picture of a Poet

I am watching the picture of a poet
He seems so strong and determined
His face is poised and sure
Suddenly, I see the nearly unnoticeable
Glint of fear in those dark eyes 
That seemed to whisper:
``What would happen if they really knew me?``
But only briefly could these words be heard
For he is a tower, tall and fortified
 ‘’Does this fear really exist?’’
I ask myself as I ponder
Looking into his dark eyes
‘’Yes, it does,’’ they answer
And they start telling me 
With defiant intensity that
His weakness is his strength
Our eyes met and that moment
Is rooted in my mind
Utterly, eternally

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Three Love Factors

Dedicated to those who have helped me to confirm these factors: 
Grace, Ernest, Charlie and Howard

Three Love Factors There are three love factors Now confirmed in my book Each one tested thoroughly Come with me to take a look These factors are the basic root Of requirement for love to be true Sure one can survive in a relationship If you want love with it, this is what to do Factor number one Is where we first begin It starts with the best hug You have ever been given You know that kind of hug With a passionate embrace Each squeeze lifts you up Heat radiates from your face Once you know that hug is real Then you’re ready for factor two Of course you might’ve guessed The kiss has to do something for you The kiss should be sweet and sexy And you should really get turned on As you keep wanting more and more Especially when you feel that tongue When the first two combine It should trigger factor three You know the seductive scent That seems to excrete naturally The scent seems to travel Right through your pores Every pheromone whiff Makes you long for more When all three factors are blended The touch goes down in your soul That feeling without a physical touch A virtual feeling that you’ll just know It will make your heart feel happy It’s the sign of true love formation That brings you peaceful surroundings Filling your heart with total completion Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Folk Artist Harriet Powers,
born into slavery in 1837,
mother of nine,
told her stories
in stitched quilts.

Small. detailed panels
unfolded larger stories
like a modern graphic novel.

Her Bible Quilt of 1886
hangs in the Smithsonian,
in Washington, D. C.

Her Pictorial Quilt displays 
in the Museum of Fine Arts
in Boston, Massachusetts

Her home town
of Athens, Georgia
has declared October 30th
“Harriet Powers Day.”

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the cure

Like a man with cancer I’m slowly dying
Battered and bruised and with a heart that’s crying
I raised my hands to give an offering of praise
 But this sickness I have highlights my ungodly ways
I try to be good, Christian and meek
But the pain from this sickness is nowhere near sweet
So each day I go on feeling empty and sore 
And it has caused me to wonder who on earth has THE CURE.

For all my life I wonder where I’ve caught it
For deep inside I know I didn’t want it
Cause with an illness like this, I’m an alien on earth
 Treated like pieces of torn rags covered in dirt
Can’t tell a family, can’t tell a friend
That I’m affected by a disease I alone can’t mend
So this question echoes in me more and more
Is there even on this earth, A CURE?

For all my life I’ve been living a lie
To tell the truth, I hardly ever try
Because I fear the hatred of another
Especially when It'd come from my mother
Confused and captured I don’t know what to do
So now I stand here always being used
By the devil to beat up and even to bore
This heart that’s so desperately in need of THE CURE

Wait! Maybe I should ask the Lord what to do
Cause he’s a God who can’t lie and have always being true
But what should I ask Him? What’s the question?
Will He really listen to a sinful man?
God I’m confused so what will you say?
Should I continue this lie or will you show me the way?
The way to prosperity and peace so sure
The way to that land where I’ll need NO CURE

Suddenly He answered, “Son I know your pain.
I know you have struggles and I know u have rain
But if you had just listened to me years ago,
You would be ok and you’d even know,
You’d know that I love you and know that I care
You’d know that those problems would all disappear
Once you’ve asked me, once you were sure
That I’m the only one who’ll ever have the CURE.”

God thank you for that answer, I guess that’s what I really need
To know that You love me and to know that You see
Everything that I go through each day on this earth 
Everything that I’ve done and the times You weren’t put first
So from now on I’ll praise You in spite of these side effects
For you I’ll do anything, for You I’ll do my best
Yet I know I’ll have struggles way more that before
But I guess that’s the only way if I ever want THE CURE.

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The Locked Room: Whispers of Anubis

In a dark, dark room, 
an eerie aura surrounds; 
deathly whispers crawl in the air, 
sounding like incantations. 

A sarcophagus lays still in the room, 
whispers oozing out of it; no one knows 
that the sarcophagus is a portal to the Underworld, 
where Anubis and his cohorts reign. 

Only the Book of Ra; its jacket containing the symbol 
of the Scarab Beatle, that can chase away the whispers,
and curses from the whispers. 

The evil dead continue to be undead, 'til when the Destined One 
finds Ra's Book, and chants the verses that he sees.......
''Dark things happened there....'' 
they say, with fading tones, 
almost reaching their vanishing point, 
due to unhidden fright. 

Sometimes they hear eerie moans; 
see dancing shadows on the space 
between the door and floor; other times 
whispers that make them feel as though 
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes. 

To stop the haunting, 
they hired spiritualists to seal 
the room's door with their divine will. 

Candles flicker in the night, 
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....

(The first verse is a poem titled “Whispers of Anubis”, which was published on 8/9/2014. The second verse is a poem titled “The Locked Room”, which was published on 25/4/2014. I have divided both poems with a dotted line.)

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The Birth

I  wait a little, and the words come
They appear, like little shaded lights
One red, one violet,  one blue, one green…
They fly around like tiny birds
Taking their perches, twittering, singing
And while I am writing
I am climbing, wavering, circling
Among tress and branches
And the flowers are curving over me
 And only I know
Which petal is the right one
Which leaf is the right one…
While I am writing
I am diving into the deep sea
Threading my way between weeds
In the darkness, cold, inscrutable
And suddenly my verses
Shoot to the surface
Jumping over the waves
Spreading themselves across
Sun-flickered spaces

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Letting Go Of Home

That old faucet leaks. 
Done so for many a year. 
I let it drip in that bowl, 
birds; chipmunks; squirrel and other 
critters come here for a drink. 

This here tree out front? 
Wife and I planted it. Yep. 
Day we moved in here. 
I wanted a Saguaro. 
Mave wanted a good shade tree. 

Inside…watch yer step, 
that old board needs fixin', 
I’ll show you the rooms. 
This here was Mave’s favorite room. 
She picked out those curtains there. 

That’s my chair right there. 
Come into the kitchen, 
take a look around. 
Mave put up many a jar 
of jelly. Best in the state. 

Now up these stairs, 
are the bed rooms. This one’s Joe’s. 
He was our oldest. Gone now. 
Broke his mothers heart it did. 
He died in the war. A hero. 

This room was Katie’s. 
Her and my Mave painted it. 
Don’t care much for pink. 
But Katie had her heart set. 
But, I guess you could repaint. 

This little room here, 
Mave turned into a sewin’ room. 
Her own little hide away. 
Said I got the barn, so she 
needed her own little space. 

This was Mave’s and mine. 
Now it’s just me. It’s too big. 
I sleep on the couch. 
Fall asleep with the TV., 
Mave hated when I did that. 

Well, you’ve seen the house. 
Told you what I could 'bout it. 
If these walls could talk. 
You’d get an earful that’s sure. 
They’d likely never shut up. 

Me and Mave were here 
fifty two years till she died. 
Then just me ten more. 
Raised our two young’uns right here. 
Ain’t got no grankids as yet. 

Now, you two young folk, 
take yer time and think ’bout it. 
Don’t want to rush this. 
It will still be here for ya, 
when you two make up yer mind, 

Got my memories. 
First house is the most ‘portant. 
How you get on here, 
sets up the rest of your life, 
to make your own memories. 

This poem was inspired by one of our local, crusty,
old cowpoke, desert characters.  He spoke straight
from the hip, with no nonsense or frills.  
I sure wish we could have bought that old

Entered in the contest  "What's Your Pleasure"
Hosted by Carol Brown 
Placement : 3rd

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The Poet and the Sky

My eyes drink in a sky of stars
Sometimes I see them as lover`s stars
Sometimes as my best friends
Sometimes as frozen teardrops,
Shards of my shattered dreams
Laid bare in front of the cold, cruel world
But sometimes, I see my poems among the stars
They are clad into compassion, gentleness,
Bashfulness, modesty, beauty
They are so shy and strange,
Glad to be alone
And when they appear
My faith is rediscovered 
And I find again
 My own loving and forgiving God

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...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
being so true...
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
Sea to shinning Sea.

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Written: December 24, 1978
Spun: Jun 16, 2012

THE ART OF LIFE Oh thank Thee for this beauty Which so graciously surrounds me With the colors of this earth That were here before my birth All man kind seem to neglect The art within this world The everlasting gift of creation Which to us all unfurled From the step that is with time Does your life with you unwind And when hue-less is the west, so pure And who can paint like nature With the shades of natural beauty We were born with a birthstone Therefore when a particle of matter Begins to exist, it is THE ART OF CREATION Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Where's the Connection

I wear a compass because I inspire to stay on the map.
North, south, east, west what direction the world is flat.
The only fact history lacked is the end of the world is not exact.
The Pacific meets lands still unknown to humanity. 
While societies collide creating an unrelated family.

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Frozen in time,
captivated by this enormous being,
the size of a small car.

his every move.
The way he used his hands;
so child-like.
With all the consciousness of the world, 
and graceless coordination.

of the visitors,
as they briefly called out for his attention.
Only for a moment,
then they were gone.

in an orderly sham. 
He sat there,
in his dark cave.
As if he was waiting for the light to find him.

on a boulder, 
squatting, and primitive.
Drawing in the dirt with one hand. 
Swatting a fly with the other.

His nature,
as he rushed to consume his food.
The females hovered behind him,
watching intently, 
like me.
His movement mechanic.
His presence powerful.
He was the king of his domain.

his magnificence, I watched.
How smart was he?
Could he feel my presence? 
Engulfed in the very essence of all that was him, 
I watched. 

how he felt, I watched.
Did he think he was still in the womb of Mother Nature?
Or, did he know the iron bars which embrace him now?

it happened;
our eyes met.
He noticed my presence.
His gaze intimidated me, 
But I did not look away.
He approached me.
I felt his eyes inspecting my soul.
A chill ran down my back,
I turned behind me,
only to find no other presence there.
When I turned back, 
we were face to face.
Separated by the sham,
And a two inch piece of glass.
Just me and him,
the two of us,
and the females hovering behind him.

His old eyes spoke to me,
They said 
“I am like you. 
I love, I feel, I hurt.
I am, like you.”

I put my hand on the glass
and with all the 
consciousness of the world,
he did the same.
With tears in my eyes,
I smiled.

Then, he pooped in his other hand
and wiped it on the glass.
This was a sign of endearment.
I laughed out loud.
And I swear,
He smiled back.

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The Widows Hour

A black widow hides
the hour’s count, in a painted
red glass, on the underside 
of her belly.

Unlike a snow white kitten,
the hard shiny black widow
receives not one loving caress.

In the pale moonlight the black widow spins a silver web.
It created a growing and binding spell-like enchantment.

A man and a woman
are dancing through time.
A man and a woman and a black widow
are dancing through time.

I do not know which I prefer,
Us making love by a sizzling fire
Or us making love on the cold wet sand,
the black widow scurrying across the beach
Or the moment we met.

A web repaired a broken window
with finely spun silk.
The shadow of the black widow
remains hidden from view.
The silence
hanging in the web
spoke a thousand words.

Descendants of Adam,
Why do you fear this little spider so?
Do you not see how the black widow
splashes and plays in her bath
as naturally as the child within you?

I know that I know nothing
and I remember everything all at once;
I know, as well,
that the black widow does not worry
about what I know.

Dark spaces harbor the black widow.
Shake out your shoes,
shirts, and jackets after they’ve been on the floor.

The black widow’s shadow
encloses the stars like an eclipse,
even I cannot overlook a
cosmic event as rare as this.

She walked across the Nile
in crystal slippers.
Escaping, she never looked back
over her ivory shoulder,
the black widow’s shrill song flies
through the wind and echoes on the water.

Grains of sand are filling the glass slowly.
The black widow must be endlessly dreaming.

The sun beat down while it rained.
I was not moving
and I was not going to move.
In the peak of the thirteenth hour
the black widow traced circles,
after kissing me lightly on the 
back of my hand.

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When You Read Her Poems

You read her poems 
And imagine women chattering 
Around the old wooden table 
Changing old men`s stories 
By their ancient, deep knowledge 
And their experience 
You read her poems 
And discover the secret magic 
Of ordinary things-
Of the kitchen cupboard 
Of the taste of coffee 
On a sunny afternoon 
You read her poems 
And become more 
Intimate with nature 
You read her poems 
And find the presence 
Of loving and forgiving God 

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Untitled #340 / Colored pencils

Colored pencils in an artist’s even hand
sketch rolling fields of wavy grass
sprouting from the barren plain
of barren pages.
Now she reaches for Burnt Sienna.

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Balance Within

Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall...

You may get old
Your memories may drown,
But your soul won't get cold
And beliefs won't breakdown.

Just don't you let go
As you never know,
Things you seek for all your years
They could be in your back yard.

Find the truth within the lies,
Fight your pride to end this cry,
Trust your soul; open the door
Balance yourself and roll the stones.

The one's you heart will always stay
So don't throw life out your doorway,
Life's too short and it's too real
Sometimes it's hard to see and feel

That's how you live a life,
The risk that breaks you down to bits
Saves and brings you back alive,
That's what we call the gift of life.

No matter how rough things might get
We get rewards for the risks we take,
No matter how hard or sad
Learn and value what you have.

Though, too much pride will leave you dried
Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride,
None of this will you take to grave,
Your deeds will lay, only your pave.

As you breathe in and do breathe out,
Make each one profound
And stand your ground,
As lies are just the fantasy,
The truth - is your ecstasy
And this will forever be plain to see... 

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Heavy Burden on My Shoulders

I have to find what keeps me the same.
With paths that split once they came.
Thoughts going insane make me lame.
Parts of my heart still remain.

The rose blossoms with life ahead.
I close my arms tight instead.

I delivered my lists with passion of life.
Lists that are important have no strife.

No back up for heart broken will.
I raise my arms to overcome the still.

I have to find what keeps me the same.
With paths that split once they came.
Thoughts going insane make me lame.
Parts of my heart still remain.

Fear of gossips became too much.
It feels that my emotions are in a crutch.

I walk the path that does not match.
It seems to wind and wildly scratch.

Now my story is about to end.
I finally am walking through a gentle bend.

I have to find what keeps me the same.
With paths that split once they came.
Thoughts going insane make me lame.
Parts of my heart still remain.

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am fine

Am fine
I'll be fine
This is a tiny friction
By the time i get home and write about it, i'll be fine

I said to him, to her, to them

When your friends abandoned you in the middle of nowhere,
Who did you call? Who hosted you for that one week?
When you called me million of miles away asking for school fees, who came to your rescue? 
When you had no money enough to bring you on the other side of the ocean, who chipped in?

I meant to say it to him, to her, to them but didnt as they knew the stories so well

People forget sooooooo easily
But I'll write about it so i can forget as easily 

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Road to Redemption

Introduction: Tribute to brothers in the fray and families for them pray...

Life in these rough times, We barely even feel the daytime Every second counts greatly, As there’s no going back in time Sometimes we lose to win, try not to fail again, But mostly we end up back to where we all began Every single day, we wake up in one piece, Where brothers in the fray, they hardly get to cease Our tears drop all over the floor, They keep on till their blood stains from their core Every second till the end, We pray for them to knock on our doors Sadly at times, things go the other way for the best cause, All we can do really, is not breakdown and pause Prayer’s the only strand through the last breath, When they depart with a peaceful end Emptiness and happiness, constantly flowing along, The memories, they always live right within our souls When days seem cloudy and life gets lonely Debts grow high and smiles fade into sigh At that instant, that very moment, Just pray, pray to get healed, Heal from this insanity, pray to be free, Free from this misery It all comes down to the crying in the end, The stillness stares up towards the sky As we do bid farewell to dear friends But at some point through all the pain and sour grin, recovery does begin The ones we love and care, Though some are not so near Scattered through this bittersweet world, Waiting for us to share; This life is like the weather, It changes altogether It may get bad and may get sad, But know it’s not forever, Better days will come eventually, The morning sun will shine brightly Through our endeavors and our prayers, we shall recover From things we’ve lost so dearly So just hold on to the light and believe in salvation, And the rays of truth shall lead the road to redemption…

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The wind blows,
The flowers blossom and grow,
The seasons come and the seasons go,
The waters incessantly flow,
Yet my heart is still full of woe.

It has been years,
Since I have let myself shed tears,
Or relinquished my fears,
For you, who all of a sudden just disappeared.

You were my angel,
Ever since my heart is twisted, by your spider's web it still dangles,
In your spider's web it gets more tangled,
And everyday a little more mangled.

At least I still have a heart,
What little you have not torn apart,
You always thought you were so smart,
Playing with my soul from the start.

If I ever see you again,
My heart will surely begin to mend,
Because against you my heart cannot defend,
As sad as it is... on you my happiness depends,
And I pray you will learn to love me again.


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My Thoughts

Here I am. Alone here I sat. 
My mind wrapped in many thoughts. 
Those I care not to have. 
The ones of my life, a woman near my heart. 
The pain and pleasures are like doing uppers and downers. 
Feeling your hearts going burst if it don't cease. 
What does one do in this case I wonder? 
It's not of my heart I want destroy but loving as the man I am. 
There the differculties are with being human. 
Not being able to control the thoughts as they run wild. 
What is it really like to live alone? 
I know its lonely but how does one cope with this? 
Even when their thoughts are upon things that matter. 
How does the mind think or is it really the heart feeling these thoughts? 
I know that's where the pain exist because its not my head that hurts. 
It is the thinking of having everything you ever wanted in life. 
Including the woman you love so dearly. 
It is of my sucess I have accomplish even after many have robbed me blind. 
It is that will to survive that keeps my fight alive. 
But that of my inner being telling me that life is a lie. 
That it's only a joke to live. 
But there I have struggle still standing tall even when I am knock down. 
It is the eye of the tiger and the roar of a lion I cry. 
That of my soul just feels like screaming to the top of my lungs and falling to my knees and 
saying,lord take me. 
Ease this pain I'm in. 
But let not life kill me nor my thoughts I have. 
But make me stronger in thy ways. 
But end this day and not let me wake. 
For I am dieing of these thoughts and feelings I have,Please! 
Somebody help me before I go insane and lose my mind. 
These thoughts are crazy but of a woman I love. 
That I can not stand the thought of her in others arms. 
But my thoughts is I must go on. 
Because I am the man I am and there's nothing I can do about this. 
Except stay strong and survive until the day of my life has come. 
By then,I probably be old and grey,still wondering how I'm going to make the next day.

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Blame me

Last night, I stared out of the bedroom window
As I did, a few long years ago
I saw the fading image of a lost sad man
Wandering frantically in a twisted limbo
Subtlety I asked “why was he in such a chaotic state”
He looked at me with anger and said “Blame me…
Blame me for my dismal fate”

Blame you for what sir?

Blame me for not having the courage to make timely decisions and the right choices
Blame me for not trusting and following my own judgments, instead of submitting to outside 
Blame me for being too passive when aggression was warranted and truly needed
Blame me for losing my self-confidence, my self-esteem and self-respect when my goals 
appeared defeated
Blame me for cracking and breaking under my peers and family’s high expectations
Blame me for setting my goals too high -- after all, they were only my dreams and 
Blame me for fathering a beautiful little girl without the strings of wedlock
Hell blame me for believing she was actually mine, when most likely she’s probably not
Blame me for marrying a woman who surrendered her heart and love to another man
Blame me for loving her regardless and gracefully accepting her with our relationship as it 
Blame me for starting a family with her knowing of her traitorous deceit
Now cast stones at me for tolerating her ongoing hatred of my oldest seed
Blame me for not leaving such an unhealthy and toxic relationship
Instead, blame me for being infidel and searching elsewhere for love and companionship
Blame me for apologizing continuously, trying to work on it and make things better
Then blame me for discovering her viperous secret, the affair never ended, they were 
always still together
So now blame me for wanting to know and experience the fruits of a true relationship and 
what it could possibly be
Finally, blame me for discontinuing the games; I am tired, my heart hurts and I am now and 
forever free

I looked with pity as his eyes mirrored that of my own
We raised our hands simultaneously and he spoke again in a confident and stern tone

“Blame me young man for what you have heard and now experienced
Blame me for the one shot at love you lost due to my continued interference
Blame me for all of the things that causes you self-pity and personal anger
But blame yourself young one, should you allow it to continue and become your permanent 

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A Doomed Poetess

She was a shy child and a lonely girl with a dream
So she started writing poems and became famous
But when she awakened, she found that 
Her dream did not come true
She was spending her days looking for lost stars
And nights, searching her soul 
For lost answers and unspoken fears 
Nevertheless, she gave herself to the world
Because she had never belonged to anyone
People knew that, and that`s why they glorified her, 
Humiliated her, and finally killed her
And now, we imprisoned here miss her,
Lure her with the ancient bait of pain
But her soul doesn`t  crave the things
It yearned on during black mortal years
Still  this pure white flame of burnt desires
Lightens our path

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The Monument

He stands in the square and understands
All weakness  and suffering of mankind
Surveying compassionately their final destiny
And he is everywhere, in the air,  on the ground,
In the streets, above the houses  in the trees
When I look at the Moon, I can see his smile 
I can see his starry poems melting in the sky
Bringing to us their charity, honesty, goodness
Wanting to give us more beauty, more verses
For nothing, for free, forever
For watching him merely

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Once Upon a Christmas 1954 Part 3

.           Oh – the glorious things we saw – shelves full of toys and household goods, glass 
counters with hundreds of bottles of perfume and cologne, shaving gear, tropical birds and 
fish and mountains and mountains of candy.  What to do – what to buy?

	We scurried from one counter to the next, overwhelmed with the endless things to 
choose from as we stammered and stuttered like a couple of idiots.  Finally, we decided on a 
bottle of ‘Lily of the Valley’ perfume and a pair of gloves for mom and ‘Old spice’ cologne and 
gloves for dad.

	We then separated to buy presents for each other agreeing to meet at the soda 
fountain afterwards where we decided it was only fitting we should have a banana split and a 
Coke to celebrate the occasion.  

	As we sat three with our lips covered in butterscotch and ice cream, the gravity of 
the situation began to sink in.  We had spent our entire savings and with that realization, we 
licked our lips and decided the bicycles would have to wait another year.

	Finally – it was Christmas Eve and we put the presents under the tree and hung 
our stockings at the foot of the bed.  In a few hours, those stockings would be filled with 
barley toys, ribbon candy and chocolates.  I could hardly wait!   As mom tucked us into bed, 
I looked out the window and saw it was snowing again.  It snowed all through the night as I 
lay in my cozy bed dreaming of that glorious bicycle again. 


	Christmas morning we awoke to the sound of the radio; home for Christmas after 
a long stay at the pawn shop as ‘Joy to the World’ rang over her airwaves.

	We dashed to the living room where mom and dad stood beside two bicycles with 
gleaming chrome and multi-colored streamers; not the ones from the store window, but the 
most beautiful bicycles I have ever seen; a red one for me and a blue one for my brother.

	There I stood, my heart overflowing with joy and love as I remembered my 
mother’s blood stained hands and my father’s blue and red stained hands - these hands of 
love that changed two second-hand bicycles into the greatest gift I have ever known and 
taught me the true meaning of Christmas.

•	May the love from that Christmas of 1954 find you and fill your heart with joy.

                                                        Merry Christmas
                                                         To you and yours


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Light On the Devil's Chord -part 3-

In a deep sleep, I fell upon the fields, tired, rejuvenated, and blessed
Wandering in many a dream

A warm sun creeping from the heavy cream clouds woke me up
And I felt His presence once again
Sitting up, I rubbed my weary eyes and smiled sadly,
"He...He spoke to me, and He granted me love, with dreams of hills,
Prairies filled with sunflowers, hares dashing about in joy,
The soft rains from supple clouds tickled my frowns to smiles,
And a turkey from afar winked at me with knowing assurance."

Christ lifted me up and kissed my forehead gently,
"My silly, lovely sister, good morning,
Come with me. . .
We shall talk for a little while,
And then you will be away for a time."

His expression grew grim...

"Yes, my sister, lessons will be learned,
Keep your faith, and your heart will guide you,
Do not give in to the lies of the ancient serpent,
Whom you will see in a very short while
Talk with him, be with him,
But if his claws wrap around your innocent throat,
I am told to not intervene, for this is the test God has given you"

I looked at Christ lovingly and embraced him
"Thanks be to God, for this gift of opportunity,
Tell me how long with the serpent shall I stay?"

He held me tightly for a moment, 
Then looked at me with tears in his eyes

"The Lord God Almighty had visited me last night,
Telling Me to take you to the pit,
Where Satan and his demons thrash,
And for 40 days and 40 nights you shall remain there,
Then you shall see how his mind decays in his ways
That his pride and his servitude of lies and murder slashes all thought of change
That repentance to him, is failure, weakness, and far below him..
You shall soon see if it is possible to save one that does not wish to be saved"

I took Christ's hands
"Do not be afraid for me, my brother,
I am ready for this test
I am ready to face him and give my say,
Though my purpose is risky,
My heart is filled with Your grace, 
And I know even in darkness, God is there
Perhaps I mean not to save him,
But to understand him
I only hope You see the strength in me to fulfill such a thing"

Smiling, He lifted me in the air and twirled me
"Oh precious, magnificent sister!
I never doubt your strength,
For your glory reflects off the face of your Almighty Father
Your questions have filled His heart with gladness and warmth,
Your innocence is precious and fills Him with joy
Testing you, He has no doubt-
Though know mistakes can be made, and will be no less dire
Therefore, be wary in the dark,
For in it you will face illusion, sadness, desire, anger, and all evil shrouding,
No good advice will be given along the way,
It is merely you and Satan, eye to eye 
And the terrible shrieks of the demons at his feet still shall tempt"

Departing from Christ with few last words,
He lead me to the bottomless pit, which is sealed and impenetrable
Advising me to wait, He disappeared from view,
The last of the light I would witness, fading into the mysterious eve

I stared at the mighty seal in awe
Rough rock and black soot surrounding the dread inside...

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As It Rains

Today would be the perfect day
To call out of work
And laugh & play
As the bed lays 
against the window pane
I can hear each drop
As we lay
As it rains

Just the two of us
Trying to keep warm
I breathe your kisses into my lungs
And they heal a heart that’s been torn

You make me so happy
After pain attacked me
But each rain drop explodes
As you grab me

Your kisses to my forehead
Bring tears down my face
I have a bleeding heart
That has been saved
As we lay,
As it rains...

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Confession of a Poetess

My poems  were born in darkness
I make bouquets out of my losses
And transform my nightmares
Into mysterious  rose gardens 
When I hear satanic music
I sing of water lilies floating
Like the souls of swans on the lakes
Enclosed by my sadness
Yes, I hide myself behind a gate of words
Words are my soldiers, my friends 
With them, I make my faithful army
And make peace with the world

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A Lovely Thought

Its there I lay upon this bed. 
My thoughts are of the one I love. 
My emptiness I feel there but my fullness in heart is of Loves devine.
It is there to which I am lost without. 
Without my love here, next to me in touch. 
To whisper them words softly but with meaning they fall from thine lips.
To feel the passion of her own heart, to know there is meaning there.
To kiss her lips gently with a chill of excite.
To feel her finger's as our hands grasp tightly. 
To lay with firm arms wrapped as we sleep.
There my bed is empty, not of her smell I taste. 
That of her kindness of love she keeps me strived. 
That of her body I long to curl next to.
It is there I am just a man wanting like any other.
Just to be next to you and love forever. 
But share everyday, the love that exsist. 
That of two souls bound in life. 

Having such beautiful person to share them moments with. 
I know I've been bless as God has made dreams come true. 
He has gave me my heart because there you are. 
Nothing but love as I have found one's self. 
But I have found myself because you are. 
That every beat you are.
Never wanting to be away from but giving my heart with love. 
That everyday is just as special as the first. 
That everyday I love you even more.

Because the love of two people makes happiness. 
With you, life is a grand slam. 
That your sweetness you would melt just at a drop of rain. 
But your smile would light the world as a ray of sunshine. 
Because everyday my world would be bright just having you to love. 
I Love you with heart. 
With joy and happiness and all the things that are nice.

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I Will Be There No More

Every day it gets progressively worse
You always find a new way to make me hurt
My anger fills my mind and leaves my pores
All I can do is release it on a door
My heart is cold and fingers are aching
You can see and feel my heart breaking
Just love me the way I love you
You and I both know that you do
But you are scared and you are blind
Realization is what you must find
You lie to me as if I don't matter
Every lie you tell just makes me shatter
This time you tore my heart
And you threw it to the floor
If you hate me so much
Then I will be there no more...

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Legacy of an Artist

Pigments of color,
form the shapes,
that create an image,
of you,
within my mind.

The first aspect,
I view within your portrait,
is the permanent smile,
etched upon,
your blissful face,
cloaked with the,
celestial aura,
that captivated all,
who have the privilege,
of knowing,
the beauty,
of your soul.

As I glance,
into your deep,
brown eyes,
that shimmer,
with enthusiasm,
I am reminded,
of your passion,
for all aspects,
of existence,
that expresses,
the lines,
that unite to demonstrate,
how you always,
lived life,
to the fullest.

Your humor,
echoes through,
my ears,
as I reminisce,
 of how you place a smile,
 upon the faces,
of your loved ones,
who were brightened,
by your personality,
and irreplaceable.

The heart of a saint,
courage of a lion,
don’t come close,
to describing the values,
that distinguish,
you from,
anyone else.
You changed,
lives on a daily basis;
you gave me,
memories to last a lifetime.

You strum,
my heart strings,
in a way,
that no one else can replay.

I now notice,
hues of your portrait,
are fading,
from vibrant,
to banal neutrals;
the colors of my life,
began to vanish,
leaving a laceration,
of despair.

Out of sight,
and touch,
though you are intangible,
you shall never,
escape my heart,
nor depart from my mind.

The brush,
never forgets,
how to paint,
a masterpiece;
an illustration of you,
shall remain within,
my spirit,
through actions,
that delineate,
your legacy.

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No Worry, Though the Boat's Tilting NIK

The Boat is tilting princes; You got still
And the worry is whirling in your dimples;
Your smile is tinted
With a chill.

I know, I have to come up 
And assure;
I know, The worry
I have to kill.

In the white-washed morning
When the sun's burning
I sang a line 
In a tune so fine.

Now you know
The boat keeps you afloat
And the worry gets pale 
Through that mineral road. 

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The Earth and the Poets

I am so tired and so unspeakably old
I have been bearing about me for centuries, this grief, this disappointment
Your covetousness, vanity, ambitions
Blurred the glow of the sun, the moon,
Your selfishness, greed
Stop the divine flight of birds
You don`t see the fawn`s bashfulness and loveliness
You don`t feel the sweet scent of lime trees in June
Have you ever admired grass weaving, flowers
And asked yourself what they want to say to you
While you were watching their modesty and beauty
Have you ever thought that hills and valleys hold something of your own in them
And sometimes, when your eyes drink in a sky of stars,
Do you see the compassion of my friends,
Because I am loaded with factories, garbage,
And shrouded in smoke, while my sea is boiling and weeping
I can`t condone your wickedness
My dreams are shattered
But I am here, because of the poets
Thousands and thousands of poets are singing about me
They are saying::- Fear no more
Fear no more, we are here!-
And while they are repeating these comforting words,
They are giving all my sorrows to the universe,
Which cries for this huge burden,
Renews, makes a fresh start
Forgives and forgets
But I am still here, because of the poets

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Moon Kissed

Shadows chasing shooting stars, the poets cry as they write the future.
Words begin to fall like rain, emotions flow between the wind.

The atmosphere evolves.

A beating heart peaking up beneath the pavement. Vines of green hug the pulsating instrument.
Flowers blossom to the sound, a bitter sweet symphony. Petals dance with pixies  upon trees.

The night is singing.

The air is thick and the moon is watching, the glow of silver pours on down.
A kiss of crimson and the heart starts racing. Midnight lovers of the enchanted woods.

A candle burns.

The wax begins to drip upon the rose, the lovers kiss begins to part.
The dancers stop as the crescendo descends, silence for the beating heart.

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The Money Changer and his Wife

(Based on the painting by Quentin Massys, ca. 1466-1530)

Could her gaze be more complete,
yet less than with a complete attention
that now divides her so sharply, as though 
spiritual concerns had given way abruptly, 
to some sordid earthly matter?

For what is it about those scales
that has turned her head, that hold her eyes 
with such insistence?

Is her gaze merely dutiful, as if to give
her husband some unspoken approving word?
Her interest seems less than genuine,
momentary, for with her finger still in touch
with the prayerbook, she holds its page open, 
marks it at that place when, distracted for reasons 
we may never know, she turned her gaze to those 
scales, but with every intention, summed up 
in that small patient finger, of getting back 
to spiritual concerns.

Or have we caught her in a moment when,
as sometimes happens to any one of us, 
we are betrayed by the treachery of some dark, 
disturbing weakness we thought suppressed 
but suddenly it surfaces deep from within 
to trouble us?

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Hurt and You Could Have it All

upstairs in my room
i put my ear to the floor
only to hear my parents screaming
the argument is about me
my mom yells "look at what your son has become!"
Heartless, unintelligent, fake...
my father replies back
"hes your son, hes your own pile of dirt!"
whenever my family is out together
we act happy like these fights never happen
but every night they do and i cant tell anyone
i have to act like someone else in order not to get introuble
What have i become?...hurt..dishonest..will this feeling dissapear?
I will drag you down and i will make you hurt..
I lift my head from the floor
still hearing the angry voices of my parents
i found an old needle, and i dug it into my skin
the next morning i go downstairs
with a cut off shirt on, and baseball shorts
My father grabs my arm
"what is this boy?"
i yank my hand away from him and i sit down on a chair
"its nothing sir"
my father repeats "are you cutting yourself?, why?"
i grab my bookbag and i disapear out the door
My father runs outside pulling me to the ground
"are you cutting yourself boy?!" he screams
i say "no sir i just scrapped my arm on my dresser"
My father grabs my face
"you better not cut yourself again" he replies
He hits my face, as i lay on the ground.
I didnt wake up until i felt something wet drip on my face
it was raining and dark outside
i run into the house and into the bathroom
looking into the mirror i see the bruise that was left on my face
My father wasnt home and my mother went to bed
"everything goes away in the end right, if i let him have it all, my moms pile of dirt?"
I sit upon my liars chair full of broken memories i cannot repair 
I become someone else, but the old me is still right there
if i could start again a million miles away i would keep myself
i will find my way

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Heavenly Love

I followed myself up in an open stairway
As if I was going towards heaven
And behind those curtains of the cherry blossom trees... I saw you

How peaceful you were with your eyes closed
As if you already went to the dreams of heaven
And when I softly brushed a petal from your hair... you awaken as if this was a caress

I suddenly ran away from you
As if I quickly clutched my heart, perhaps a love made in heaven
And even with a small fear in my life... you gently took your hand in mine

How unexpectedly you pulled me close
As if you already gave me a soft kiss from heaven
And so I surrendered myself to you... I already knew that my heart will forever be with you

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My Inspiration

It’s called my inspiration
Your a beautiful soul
My inspiration
A beautiful soul
My intimidation
Just a beautiful soul
You Are……..beautiful

I see you in many lights
More than I can think off
I just want everything to be right
Just blessing pouring from above
Give to me some of that youthful look
Make me feel, 21 plus 365, 24, 60’s
Of ever bit of your being
Help me relax by whispering into my ear
Melodies from ur experience of those 21+ yrs

It’s called my inspiration
Your a beautiful soul
My inspiration
A beautiful soul
My intimidation
Just a beautiful soul
You Are……..beautiful

Release all of that stored energy
In the grips of my being
Relate with my groove
Feel my mood
Effortlessly, caressing my mind
For the span, of both our lifetimes
Grab a hold and squeeze my sides
As I get my rythmn swaying from side to side

It’s called my inspiration
Your a beautiful soul
My inspiration
A beautiful soul
My intimidation
Just a beautiful soul
You Are……..beautiful

It’s hot up under hear come on and set me free
Whisper that last line you just whispered to me
Your kiss is like death
My soul is on fire
On my lips your every breath
You soothe my desire
If I’m so beautiful, relax and relate
This isn’t our first encounter, it is not our first date


It’s called my inspiration
Your a beautiful soul
My inspiration
A beautiful soul
My intimidation
Just a beautiful soul
You Are……..beautiful

It’s how you say what you say
The way your hips move
That jester you make with your lips
The way you move your head to the groove
The smell of your skin
Your persistant reminding of your own man hood
Your way of getting what you want with out asking
The love you search for that’s everlasting

A beautiful soul that’s what I see
Handsomely put together just you and me
My inspiration that’s what you are
Intimidation hangs ova me like a wound or scar
Finally love has found its way home to me
And I must say it happened beautifully

Your my inspiration!

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The Boy and The Sand - Part One

Here's another little story
Told around my land;
This one's of a little boy who
Loved to play with sand.

You could find him on the beach on
Semi-humid days;
"Moisture in the air," he said, "will
Help me set the grains."

He'd construct these works of art that
Seem like they're too real;
Statues, castles, planets, ships,
Nothing's too surreal.

Fortunate was I too see his
Very last attempt;
"Now I'll try to carve out something
Free of world's contempt."

"Beauty is the source for this one.
Love, the motive right.
She'll be great! I know she will have
Beauty multiplied."

Starting with a mound of sand, he
Chucked the first bit off;
Then, as if he knew to fly, he
Whizzed around stuff.

What I saw before me was a
Tribute to success;
Sand that had no form at all was
Turning to noblesse.

Finally, he settled down and
Looked at what he made;
Standing there was but a goddess
Lying in the shade.

Beauty was the inspiration,
No doubt in my mind;
His creation was the best in
All of humankind.

"Something's just not right," he said while
Reaching for his pail;
"Can't just leave it like it is, so
Meek, so hard and pale."

After some reflective time, he 
Ran to the lagoon;
Then he started humming out a
Soft and gentle tune.

When the water heard his song so
Lofty in the wind,
It responded with a light that
Spawned from its within.

Beaming out into the air, the
Light began to rise,
Like a worm that's coming up for
Water from the skies.

The worm of light began to make
Its way across the beach;
And when it came next to the art
It came to sudden breach.

The light began to swirl around
The woman made of sand.
It started at her chest and spread
Throughout her feet and hands.

And what my eyes beheld me next
Was nothing short of awe;
The woman made of sand began
To breathe and move her jaw.

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The tears of my heart

My eye's, they cry the tears of blood they bleed. 
The pain, the sorrow. It leaves its stain upon the surface. 
I lay there in this pull of blood. 
That of the trigger I pull. 
I give my life to another as I waste away and die. 
Not in existance but tears of my heart my soul cries. 
There it as loud as the shot you here. 
Not just there but the blade cuts deep. 
Deep in my being to which it rips flesh of my inner being. 
My body, dead in this life. 
There's no love for loyality of ones soul. 
There he give all not to die but give his life that if he should betray it is with dignaty he ends. 
With honor and heart. 
Tears of my heart is that of the trials I live but even more of a love torn from my flesh. 
There,I live no more. 
Only to turn to dust and return to the earth. 
Forgive me my father,for I guess I am not worthy of this love you gave. 
Though I try,regardless I have failed. 
For it is not strong enough for one to believe or to share its life. 
But to destroy and bleed tears of my heart. I cry them in hurt. 
Make it quick that I feel not the pain. 
But die quickly only to be rebirth of something less worry. 
But give me that life I desire. 
That of my soul dies,I can't live on. 
As the tears of my heart falls in blood red.

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What Do You See

I found this old poem while helping to clean out a house that was vacant. I hope you 
don't mind that I didn't write it but it was too awesome not to post. Enjoy--------

                                   What Do You See

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?	
What are you thinking when your looking at me? 
A crabby old women, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say with your loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will.
When bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what your thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, your not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.
As I drink at your bidding, as I sit at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother.
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20. my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows I primised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own.
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40 my young sons near grown will be gone.
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more babies play round my knee. 
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young ones are busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old women now and nature is cruel.
It's her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and loving life over again.
I think of the years, all the few--gone to fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses, open and see.
Not a crabby old women, look closer,  see ME.

This poem was found among the effects of a patient who died at the Oxford
University Geriatric Service in England. Author is unknown.

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The Maker of Art (part 2)

What is Art?

Art is made. 
So therefore Art has a Maker or Makers. 
Art can be made by a solitary maker or through the collaboration of 2 or more Makers. 

In order to answer ‘what is art?’ it is necessary to ask; 
who is the Maker of Art and why does the Maker make it? 

Individual human beings or collectives are the makers of Art and why do individual human
beings make art is the question, which gives us the answer to ‘what is art?’

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The Melody of Hope

There I lay upon the curb, my heart still beating An Icy breeze cutting through, my souls was fleeting Looking up into the skies, I saw a flash of hope The clouds divided into blue, and dangled down a helping rope Rising up I start again, I'm fighting stronger The music plays inside my head, this I remember I use the melody to build my strength, I'm shining brighter I lace deceit with the flammable truth, I drop the lighter The phoenix rises from the flames, I see it's eyes Exploded candles ignite the way, I hear it's cries The path I walk leads to my home, a second chance At the end one final trial, it's the devils dance There it lay upon the curb, It's heart still beating Reaching out I take my sword, It's life depleting One final strike and a broken heart, death becomes her The sun comes out and begins to beam, hope forever

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All That Glitters

Each traveler's face shines with lights from windows
of shops which line the cheery esplanade.
The pinks of spring bloom on their pale night skin
and all like babes reflect love, limb from limb.
San Francisco’s night life warms like brandy.

The street light glows a soft, warm, gold at night,
as syrupy, and sweet as butterscotch.
The well pruned trees are laced with colored bulbs
and between each bough, they twinkle gaily,
reminding every weary soul of joy.

Even sidewalks twinkle in the alleys,
their seeded sections laced with bits of glass.
And, stop lights spirit little walkers rush
to a tune which tell them when to go,
while yellow caution lights blink in between.

Ah, the Bay how it’s staged for the merry,
as on occasion, fireworks flowery show,
high above the Golden Gate to Oakland,
the red, white, and blue of nation repeat
San Francisco, a sparkling jewel at night.




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I lie in restless sleep,
As he once again takes over my dreams.
I see him and my heart quakes,
Now I even see him when I am awake.
In my soul he sets a fire,
The one they call Vampire.
I hear his minions at my door,
As my feet hit the floor.
They have come to take me to him,
As the light grows dim.
I only slept to be in his arms,
I couldn't see the harm.
I knew one day he would find me,
How could he refuse the blood of the Elf Queen?
They take me to him upon bended knee,
And I prostrate myself at his feet.
He is old,
From a time before Jack the Ripper roamed.
But you could not tell it by looking into his face,
All I could see upon it was elegance and grace.
I could also see lust burning in those blue eyes,
Lust that burned this soul of mine.
"Do you have any idea what I want to do,
To you?"
He said,
And my heart bled.
"You want to drink my blood,
And surrender to the delicious flood."
He was not the first Vampire to ask for my magic,
Yet he was the only one I would grant it to how tragic.
I look into his eyes,
As blue as the skies.
I see the lust inside of him,
I see it though the lights are dim.
He brings me to stand by his side,
I have awakened his Demon inside.
He turns my neck to reveal my vein,
His lust now driving him insane.
He sinks his teeth in deeply,
As my eyes glaze sleepily.
He is done finished with his meal,
But the bond is sealed.
As we lie side by side,
Only one thing comes to mind...
I have killed the monster everyone said could not be defeated,
I was the thing he needed.
To bring new life into those eyes,
And take upon his soul's cries.
As the sun rises it fall upon the Elf Queen,
And her eternal King.

For:OBIE            MO:DPS

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The Sea Blue Eyes I

Once in a while I meet a person whose eyes tell their story
The story is like the sky reflection on the seas of glory
The eyes are all the wonder of the world
It sees the future, past, and present
The eyes give us knowledge of the world and reflection
The reflection of sadness and weakness of each creature
The wonder of each individual being has a present
To the world who has lots of false images
To arise the moment of that one glance
To follow the heart in romance
Just the reflection that gather in your eyes of blue
What a man and a woman should view
Life is such a pain without stopping to see each eyes
Its like roses you have to enjoy each passion in side
When that moment collides with mind and heart
Nothing in your soul can keep your love apart
Join in the fun look in every eyes of a person beside
With passion and romance I bet you, you would cry
The luster of all the things to come
A bounty of life long needs to be given by just the wonders of the eyes
The blue seas reflects the different depths of our feelings
And it should become revealing
Come to your senses with ravaging hormones of lust
The sea can take you and even the reflection in the eyes of the person
The beauty is not held by one it is held by everyone
Such looks with fear for no relief
Is almost a dreadful part in our human nature
Beware of what can happen when emotions are held
Held to the core of an individual
No such thing is kindness when you find yourself in the Sea Blue Eyes
Calling in your soul by just looking
With ignorance you play around with such futile emotion
Gush away the fear and do not go insane with life so dear
The grasp of the titans comes to reveal
The evil within your heart is so obscenely noticed
You want the sea and you want those eyes to look at you with wishes
The rage in the heart are waves that cannot stop 
It pushes and pushes with no regret
The heart falters and there is only one thing in your mind
The idea of one soul to be with is the ocean 
The rifts that is trying to break to end the wants of desire
Cannot be trusted in a human lier
The beauty of man is destruction 
The beauty of women are commands
The eyes of each does not matter in the sea
Because all emotion and desire is given to those who are true
Command of a person is just one thing 
The desire to destroy is another
The Sea Blue Eyes will see no bother cause it bares it all
Even the utmost desire
To be continue.

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Beyond Desires

Beauty can be so enticing, 
seeing what we want, 
but not allowed to have.

The face is beautiful,
the body is curved for 
sexual appeal,
toned perfectly.

The figure is flawless,
the eyes are gorgeous.
Staring into pure beauty.

Yet is this want we want?
Is this all you see?

Anyone can work to have these attributes,
or even pay.

But where is the true desire?
After the physical appearance,
what do they have to offer.

What does the heart look like?
What does their mind really say?
Can the beauty of the heart compare
to the appearance?

What is it that we really seek?
Do we want the outer beauty that fades,
or do we want what lasts longer?

Sometimes we seek what we would rather
desire than what we truly need.

The needs might not have everything
desirable that we want.
The expectations aren't met.

Maybe what we desire
isn't what we really need.

Maybe what we need
is better for us.

Maybe what we need
is right in front of us.

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Cookies of Love

Long time ago, in the little market of Venice, Allen and his mother had a little bakery.
Allen was only seventeen years old, his father was a baker and he had died because of illness.
Allen was only a reason for his mother to live life happily.

Both Allen and his mother were work hard and together so, they were famous as compare to
other bakeries in all over the market. Allen was always use to make heart shape on a
cookie, as he want to present his love daily to his mother.

One day, a young girl came at their doorsteps, she was looking very sick and poor, she
said that, my name is Olive, I have no one in the world, i am alone and very poor girl, i
want to work, please ma'am give me a job, i will do the best to serve your bakery. Allen's
mother was a kind lady, she agrees on her request, after that, Olive had very happy as she
found some open treasure. From the day, Olive started to work in their bakery as an assistant.

As same as Allen, Olive was also love to make heart shape on a cookie. By working
together, they were loving to each others. Allen's mother had known everything as she is a
mother and she was very happy because she observed that Allen have a family now.

Finally, Allan and Olive got married. After five years, Allen's mother had also died.
Allen had three children, two boys and one baby.

Now they are famous cookie bakers in all around the Venice city as, Allen & Olive cookies.

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Hands down, perhaps a more sapien trait
than most of the usual attributions of
what it is, that distinguishes humans.
I listen to a prime example of Sondheim
samples on a Steinway & Sons eighty-eight.

Balancing between enchantment and amazement
contemplating the purveyor of sounds and 
the craftsmen necessary for such synapse sublimity. 
Nimble is a word oft applied to such 
vocations equally as well as with magicians, 
cake-decorators, painters, surgeons, 
bomb defusers, and a good seamstress.

The dexterity of mind is just as amazing 
as dexterity of digits. the juggling act 
of keeping in the mental air so many 
separate thoughts. Wandering only briefly 
to the another tangent only to return 
the instant before the thought fades 
to invisible shards on the floor. 
How quickly the supple mind guides 
the supple fingers.

Primarily, it's about placement of details, 
in space and in time. I hear 
the gentle trepidation of the protagonist 
through the skill of the pianist, vocalist, 
the composer; each displaying their dexterity 
by dropping just the right, the exact amount, 
of emotion into, my senses. I close my eyes 
and imagine I see visions of nimbleness, 
fingering a dexterity of my own.

© Goode Guy 2013-05-23

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Hopes and Memories

Like a rattlesnake you coil,
Yet I work and toil...
For a love that is forbidden and forsaken,
My heart is broken and my world is shaken.
Go on and live a life that is in shambles,
I always knew that winning your heart was a highstake gamble.
When my world comes crashing around down my ears,
I want you to be the one to quell my fears.
When everyone gangs up on me and I cower in fright,
I need you my white knight.
If need be I will fall on my knees and beg for your heart,
As my world is being torn apart.
While I am swimming in sewage as far as my eyes can see,
The only light around is your eyes of green.
They are the most beautiful eyes I have ever laid eyes upon,
More beautiful than the dawn.
I may not be the prettiest rose,
But you would regret it if my heart you did lose.
So when the sun arises I will drop to my knees,
And pray that one day you will love me.
When my memory fills with pictures of your face once again,
My heart begins to bend...
When i can no longer picture your smile my heart will shatter,
Because when it comes to soul mates you are the only one who has ever mattered.


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The Boy and The Sand - Part Two

Special Note: Please read Part One first.


Her eyes began to slowly wake;
Her fingers tapped the ground;
The boy outstretched his carving hand
To help her come around.

She reached for his so soft embrace;
His skin unlike the sand;
And when she stood up on her own,
She'd not release his hand.

"Don't let me go; I'm scared," she said.
As if a tear began to form.
"A life without someone to care,
To me, just doesn't feel so warm."

"OK, I'll go," the boy replied,
"But just one thing before we leave."
He turned to me and said, "You there.
Tell my parents where I'll be."

The couple nodded me goodbye.
They then began to walk;
They strolled along the shore, engaged
In lovely happy-talk

Just then, the tide began to rise.
This made the couple slow.
Then they walked into the sea,
Away they both did go.

Surely they'll come back again.
I haven't yet forgot:
Love is what they both desired
And love is what they got.

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I am Wiser

I see you reach out to me with welcoming arms, beckoning me to enter and enjoy your 
beauty.  My heart cries out, my soul implores you for deliverance.  As the night, passes we 
live in our awareness, clinging while the gates of our hearts open to greet love created.
Many a time you have come to me when I was apprehensive and troubled, no sooner do I 
see you all worries turn to joy I am submerged in a welcoming calmness.  When my spirit 
rebels against all the trouble and injustice around me, I find your face amidst those faces in 
the crowd.  Rage in my heart subside and is replaced by the heavenly sound of your voice; I 
am at peace.
You may ask yourself, how can I be so content with such a simple existence, and how can a 
man like myself on the border of his twilight years, find joy in the silence of the darkness 
and the shadows of his dreams?  The time I have spent in those setting, I have found to be 
the foundations of all that I have come to know about life, love, beauty, happiness and 
Life is good to me now, the heavy weights that I once carried as if a yoke has fallen broken 
at my feet, and are now the stepping-stones I use to reach my goals.  The roads beginning 
has lead me to a point closer to its end.  With the horizon in front of me, I stop to smell the 
flowers; beauty with exceptional fragrance, my awareness of creation expands.  My smile 
radiates deep in my life and joys rewards become abundant.
I am wiser because of our alliance and richer in spirit due to our intimate episodes.  
Pleasures reached, physically and spiritually has altered the gathering of thoughts.  I am 
able to dissect meanings; foolishly, I believe there would never be a successful conclusion.  
However, with wisdom I have a happy beginning.

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how it starts

…from as far back as I can remember I have made, “things”.  I remember before I began school, at my grandmother’s home in Detroit and working at her kitchen table, where we would spend hours together drawing, coloring, cutting and gluing shapes, making things.  Once I began school, Catholic nuns complained to my mother that I was always drawing. My books were always covered with my drawings.  Friends would ask me to draw this or that and they would watch me.  My father had skills as a draftsman and he passed his training on to me.  My mother developed an interest in ceramics and I remember watching her paint the pieces before they were fired.  My older cousin, Ron, had skills in painting and drawing.  I loved visiting with him to see his latest psychedelic paintings that covered the walls of his basement where he worked, as the MC5 blasted on a record player.  A particular memory from the fourth grade stands out in my mind.  A teacher invited her artist daughter to visit our class and during her visit she gave us an assignment that consisted of a sheet of newsprint paper that had a single green mark on it and instructed us to draw something that began with this mark.  Each student’s sheet had a different green mark.  I recall being excited by the challenge of the assignment and dove into it without hesitation!  My finished drawing consisted of three one-eyed clowns surrounded by balloons.  She gave my work much praise for its composition and color and I was thrilled that a “real” artist acknowledged my ability.  Her recognition determined my life course.  I would be inspired by other teacher/artists throughout my education, but none so affecting as from this chance encounter from the fourth grade.  Art has been a constant in my life ever since.

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a place called home

A place called home I’m not welcome
A tear rolls down my cheek I must go.
I feel sorrow in my heart the toil burdensome
Memories wither along with all that I know.

As I walk away I can’t look back
Faces I knew are no longer friends.
I wonder where I am is this the right track
The river flows onward around twists and bends.

Now it seems I’m lost my heart is torn
I wonder through thoughts parched and dry.
The more that I learn the less I know
To this cherished life I say goodbye.

It’s been a year yet my heart is still torn
It becomes a void consuming the good.
My hands are rough my shoes are worn
I’m lost in sorrow I would lose if I could.

Daylight comes but soon shall fade
Darkness is loneliness coursing through my veins.
Still haunting are all the decisions I made
The rain starts to fall erasing all these pains.

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The Dive

Standing on a cliff,
overlooking the sight before me,
Below me.

The water tempting,
the thrill exhilarating.
The adrenaline pumping.

The heart races.
The present danger 
runs through the mind.

I have been here before.
My focus is more than
any dive.

The heart becomes alive.
Feeling once more as it did,
so long ago.

Forgetting how it could feel like this
once more.
But wanting to try again.

But with it comes a cost.
The possible danger.
The repercussion of crashing.

That feeling I know well.
Never feeling the water below,
but the rocks that could kill you.

Torn up time and time again.
Wondering if this might be different 

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Darker Blood

Rome was burning; the smell of invasion
deep in smoke, spread all over the Aegean Sea;
swords and shields were flooded in blood;
blood that belonged to Roman and Celtic race.

"It appears that we Romans have the same blood
as the Celts!" a philosopher exclaimed.

The Celts blood was believed to be darker than Romans',
for they were primitive savages, unlike the Romans;
the Romans tainted the etiquette of virtue by invading
the Celts' home of their ancestors.

It was now hard to know which blood was darker.......

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A Poetess

Her soul was heavy with many songs
Their fragrance, their fire
Their longing and trembling
Their youthful joy
She wanted an answer
But she was an answer
They were only a call

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The Master Artist

The Master Artist Pt 1  --Pt 2--the ending, is the next posting

The artist’s tray was loaded with colors, each pastel waiting for its turn:
Hues of indigo blues lie impatiently, sparks of carmine seemed to burn.
While English chrome colors lay in anticipation for the Master’s touch.
The yellow ochre pansies readied to fill the void on the painter’s scene.
Each hue was waiting for its turn but chosen first was the yellow green.
Winds blew lightly against the canvas and upon each color that he lay
Each sound had a melodic lilt as the grass seemed to grow and sway
Under a fountain of colors, each strike radiant upon the colored field.
Cerulean blue skies lightly painted waited for a stray, pearl-grey cloud
To float above the lively meadow, yet no spring rain would be allowed.
The artist was tired, yet couldn’t wait to return quickly the next day.
Morning came and his fervent fingers reached for the pastels that lay
Undiscovered upon the palette—more hues waiting for their chance.
He painted a sapphire blue creek moving snake-like up then down.
The artist smiled wisely, painting groves of trees of Van Dyke brown.
Afternoon came and pastel shades were glazed upon the flowing water
As the creek rippled over the violet stones painted on by the Master.
He seemed to lose all sense of night and day as each hue told a story.
Colors flew from left to right and the meadow seemed to come alive
Ruby hues were topped upon the phlox as fragrant flowers did thrive.
His hand would not cease until he had painted the bluebird at its song.
The misty meadow was melodious as he painted crickets to sing along.
The artist looked upon his growing scene and knew what it still needed
But his hand was weary and the pastel scene would wait another day
For colors that still lay brightly unused upon the Master Artist’s tray.
The next day he painted against the sky purple hills gently sun-kissed.
His hands worked with great passion as twisting trees seemed to tryst.
Pastel colors floated upon the land as pink butterflies flew here and there.
Sounds of songbirds were singing as his meadow seemed to nearly burst
With every color and every hue that the great artist had fervently dispersed.

Part Two has the Master Artist poem ending that I posted after this one-- 
(PoetrySoup doesn't allow enough space)

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From A Georgia Dream To Love In Tennesse

Lips of cherry, full, to show a lovely smile, she; with a tan of golden brown 
Her silk worthy hair, a light shimmering brown, forming around her beautiful face
A face of innocence, without a blemish, and a smile that could turn, old into new 
Eyes of blue, as blue as a hot summer’s sky, casting of sapphire and indigo bright
That I may remember this moment, She; looking as a movie star, but modest, no flaunt
Her legs long, complimented her shape, giving her essence a tantalizing glow. In a tank top, 
bronze shoulders, her long tan arms looked of softness to hold someone close and never do 
harm. Unleashed, three dogs that followed merrily, obediently; Great Dain, a Sheppard mutt, 
and a small brown pup Oh how I wished I could meet her, but what would I say, I thought 
very hard and managed “Are those your dogs?” said I. “Just the Dain” says she. “Are you a 
Dawgs fan?” she sweetly asked. For I sported my Georgia  hat upon my head, and with a 
hardy exclamation, I excitedly said “OH!! man do I love "Them Dawgs. "A fan since I was 
six, in love with the black and red ith the Packer's G  
Then I bubbling with thrill, when she said she was, a Georgia  cheerleader in; 1991 
From 1991 to 1993 she jumped and cheered for an institution dearly loved which don the 
black and red Packer G.“You were?” I said with  I. For it filled me with glee, I turned a bright 
red, but listened "Yes ,I was born in Savanah" and lived there untill UGA. It was nice to meet 
this beautiful woman who was now I guessed 38 Still with a body of an 18 year old lass, 
turning heads, as with a smile she passed. NowI have been married  30 long years to a 
woman that shares my cheers and my fears. I love her with all of my heart and my soul with 
her love in return of her I’ll never feel old. Of my true life companion, my Sheila, my love, 
not a cheerleader is she, but her heart is as pure as new fallen snow. Her Irish beauty shines 
as the dew on the grass, and would not give up my Sheila  for she is one of a kind  from 
God. I still remember our first meeting and surprise upon her face. In a bar I was full, 
dancing and singing when I sat down with her and her friends, She laughed at the dancing 
man and soon a romance began, then came a daughter. We learned and lived with our faults 
and sins and have forgiven and been forgiven and nothing more do we want. For my Sheila 
and I our love has been sanctioned by or sweet Jesus above.

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a worthy weapon

For reasons unspeakable and meanings misunderstood, Her body was desecrated, mistaken for his good. Battered, broken, betrayed, and bruised, Her spirit was robbed from her, her trust misused. Confused and weary, retreat her only choice, The pain of betrayal silenced her inner voice. Emotions were unrecognizable, strangers if you will, Her feelings turned predatory, in search of a kill. Terrified of the unfamiliar heart that beat inside her chest, Her thoughts were vengeful and cruel at best. She had never known a pain so deep and so great, Instantly, she became intimate with the feeling of hate. The dangers of the world, were all at once revealed, Reminding her, betrayal had taken with it, her shield. Who would protect her, be there to keep her safe, Now that danger had taken on a new face? For now she had no crutch, there would be no beacon in the night, She herself would have to be a warrior, to survive this fight. And it was a fight indeed, she battled head on, Constantly being conquered from trying to face the battle alone. Armed with selfishness, anger, resentment and pride, She was desperately seeking a weapon, worthy enough her side. So, ravaged and weak, she called out into the darkness, And with her humility at hand, she was reminded of a promise. Stilly and quietly she started to recall, There was One, who had promised her it all. Promised there was a place with no sorrow or tears, And promised with Him, she’d have no evil to fear. She questioned her debt, for she had acquired many He assured with repentance she would not pay for any. She asked about His sacrifice and He humbly replied, For you my child, a thousand times over, I would have been crucified. With those precious words, she fell upon her face, Worshiping him, knowing she was unworthy of such grace. He wiped a tear from her face, and gave her a light in her heart Told her to go and be an example, that Jesus can be the start. The start of the beginning to a whole new life, Where your never left alone to face the struggle and strife. He made it clear to her; your Master will never leave you, She found comfort in the physical evidence of that that truth. She found He was living, inside her heart He is alive, No longer in fear, she can see the world in a whole new light. Now dressed in His armor, she is ready for battle, He helps her to mount, for today, she rides a new saddle.

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If all the things I have right now were taken away and I had nothing left I would fantasize about nature and how beautiful it is. I would imagine that I was swinging on an old tire swing in front of a river. In the river were little ducks and I would go feed them. In my life right now I don’t think of nature that way. I think if my freedom was taken away I wouldn’t take it for granted the way I do and I would know how much it actually means to me. I would also imagine my family getting together for my family reunion. We would usually have them in September. My aunt would make her fancy white cake topped with chocolate drizzle. My grandma always made her jello cake; I still don’t know exactly how she makes it. The others would bring KFC, at least three boxes full of chicken and fries. All the kids would sit together and play games and laugh as we threw food at one another. We would have a game where the kids lined up from age 1 to age 13 and you would get to pick a prize appropriate for your age. I would always get stuck with bath soap and tooth brushes.I take a lot of ordinary things for granted and I think a lot of people do but they won’t admit it. Sometimes I even take life and my freedom for granted. I think that if maybe we wouldn’t take things for granted like the trees or our freedom that maybe our lives would be a lot better and things wouldn’t happen the way they do. I have lived long enough to know that it won’t happen, nothing happens the way you want it to. Just a few months ago I lost my grandma and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I took all of the things she did for granted and now that she’s gone I miss her. She used to make this tuna casserole, it was just amazing but I never told her just how much she meant to me. I think if I would have told her that more then I wouldn’t feel so guilty or depressed that she is gone. I never told her what I needed to. If people could use the words of John Lennon “Imagine Peace” and actually think about it then maybe the world wouldn’t have to end because there wouldn’t be any enemies, murders, drugs, none of the bad things would have happened. If we could have just accepted everyone around us for who they are and known that one day we all have to die, we could have stepped back from it all and said I had a good life and I don’t regret any of it. I think it’s no good to step back from something and tell yourself that you could have done something to prevent it.

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The Sea Blue Eyes II

There she is the false image standing quietly
She is just standing looking at a beautiful flower
She notices her passion of earthy desire
Something is happening she burst into the sun
I look up as her hands grasp my face
Her sea blue eyes gazed at me
Her warm hand and then a bright light blinded me
I went down on my knees and cried
The salty water dropped on to the ground 
I live by the ocean so deep
I do not know how to swim
By the thought of a beautiful look 
That made me shake
With fear in my head I saw those Sea Blue Eyes
I cannot restrain myself she burst into the sun
What is going on is it just the feeling of being left behind
She was a desire and now I have none
Driving nuts and insane what will I do
Believing such a image is a dream
I walk on the sand by the ocean with flowers in my hand
Raising it to the sky and trying my best to lure her
The image came close 
It pulled me into the ocean I was soaked
What a lonely human being I am
I grope the sky with such desire
I look pitiful and look anguished
What horrible feeling I have to pull the beauty that is nature down
The wind blew one day the image once more appeared
A young woman standing beside a flower with deep Sea Blue Eyes
Looked at me a glance of hope and happiness came
I reached for her and all of a sudden I fell into a deep sleep
Months past they had told me that I jump off a cliff 
They explained that the flower patch was by it
I realize heaven and earth cannot be reached with out a sacrifice
With meaningless thoughts I would wonder of to the cliff area
To see the ocean were it meets and ends
I was told a story long ago that the feelings of the ocean can seep into your soul
The trend of this story came shortly after some deaths
I was fooled the lady with the Sea Blue Eyes can manipulate anyone
Ladies and men, she is an illusion of the utmost desire
Blaming everyone human kind knowing they are lyres
The ghostly images that creeps everyone is oneself
Desire falls upon those who are lonely 
Believe of the unnatural becomes science
The Sea Blue Eyes is no lie cause they have been taking souls
Through century they have been taking souls for tolls
I stood once again near the ocean reaching to the sky
Lonely I was ready to disappear 
One day she not the lady of the sea it was the one I knew
I was blessed that day she embrace me 
I then fell into a slumber of bliss and desire
Now I just hear voices and I am paralyze down
A disappointment I was fooled once more by the Sea Blue Eyes 

To be continue.

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The lush hill towered over the quite town mostly built with big rock;
it had three tall church towers
with different distinguished styles: Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque...
wondrous was every sunrise!

Oh, their loud bronze bells could be heard ringing
through the vast, sun-washed and peaceful valley
sorrounded by mountains that reached a sky so dazzling...
then the clock-tower stroke each hour so precisely!

The summer's aroma was kind of strong and irritated the eyes,
and it almost got me drunken as aged wine does;
and I ran to the lush hill thinking of finding a treasure
in a cave that the invading Normans might have hidden in there!

But to my surprise, only frescos of martyrs were discovered;
all the while, that treasure was in front of me:
Nature opening up with its magnificent beauty!
It took observation and reflection for the rare gifts it rendered.

Whenever I ran to the lush hill, either morning or afternoon,
I was astonished by the humble faces of saints showing no demise 
for their persecution and carnage by beast such as ferocious lions... 
as those pious faces looked to Christ for comfort in their doom!

Their image made me much stronger and believer in the Shepherd
whose sheep never was lost among grunting wolves waiting aside; 
and every mystery revealed, it grew to teach me not to be afraid...
when profound silence arrived bringing delights to an innocent child. 

Oh, lush hill...keep my image of young boy intact even after I die;
let it come alive when sheer curiousity arises and tantalizes...
to make me climb that lush hill again for the heart to fantasize,
and 'though my health may not be as vibrant as then, I must try!

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Forgotten Fate

Introduction: For those who’re wandering confused within the lost and found - seeking silence…

Truth be never futile Stay and see awhile, Call back your forgotten dreams And feel that frozen smile, Linger of Love be worth eternal wait; When the time is right – That verity we do still hate And later we wind up too late, There forth we get lost in fate We get bemused with our innate That we can’t still relate, Don’t take on yourself as bate As never you trust an inmate, Our hopes and thoughts they fade away And we just see closed gates, So slay the lies, dig up the truth Someday you shall find, your forgotten fate…

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"Echo's of Find you "

Embrace my love , My heart be still,
I shall meet you upon our will,
My eyes are a sparkle from the warmth of your shine,
A tender touch , You look my way, How can I not come to play ,
In the wander lust of love,
Open your eyes, Your heart calls unto me ,
Hoping that you will never flee,
My mind calls unto you , I hear your whispers upon the mid-night air, Wondering should you 
soon appear,
The sounds of your sighs race through my mind,
Yours is the "one" , I'm hoping to find,
Dreaded are the moments we are apart, Least are the ones we shall start,
Open your eyes and look into me,
A heart shall be waiting with glee,
The Scent of your love , Flows hard through my veins,
" I send to you, "send to you" Heart of wane,
"Look for me" Look for me and "I for you",
Look for me eyes of blue,
And "I shall find you " Find you in my loving hue,
Should the days ever pass and we never greet,
" I will look for you"
In the "echo's of Find you " Find you ,
Until we meet.

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Murphy's Law in Autumn (part 2)

He was found that morning, the peace of the day was shattered
Before the day had begun.
That call raped my virgin heart from its’ happy emotions.
Leaving behind an emotional scar.
As I walked down the church isle,
I knew in my broken heart this would be the last time I’d see him.
What a memory to have the rest of my life.
The reality of not being able to laugh and have fun set in,
Even the walls, ceilings, and floors mourned.
They were used to hearing us laugh casting echoes of laughter.
Now they were quiet like the rest of us. 
The sound of clinking silverware and sniffling 
was the only sound heard that holiday season. 

When I visit my aunt, the living room’s quiet, 
The sound of the ticking clocks break the awkward silence every time. 
If it weren’t for the clocks, I’d go insane.
This is a walk I don’t want to remember but always will. 
Seeing my uncle regret that bargain. 
One never knows the events that’ll transpire, 
in reality it wasn’t the bargain. He would’ve used whatever, it just happened to be that extension cord.
But that’s the weight of my uncle’s unhappiness, 
it wasn’t my aunt getting onto him that day,
Nor the officer that gave him a ticket, 
nor the fight his girlfriend picked that night. It wasn’t his brothers fault either 
For not lending him some money  nor mine for not spending the night and everything else. What if’s replaced 
our joy. 
“What if I’d stayed, would he have done that ?”
When a pebble’s cast into water, it doesn’t cast a one sided ripple casts ripples in every direction. I guess 
that’s why we all blame ourselves.

When we walk into the living room it’s not his pictures that reminds us of what we lost, it’s that new piece of 
sheetrock that’s brighter than the others. I guess my uncles regret never gave him the motivation to finish 
the ceiling.

Written in the perspective of a friend

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I Send My Heart to Japan

Once again the Supreme Player has dealt the unfortunate card
From the famine in my lands
To the quakes in Haiti, and the other parts
Then the floods in Australia
Now the quake in Japan

I wonder what to make of these times
In the meantime, I’m just gonna be glad to be alive
And send my heart to those who survived
Sorry for the greatest loss of your time
My kind and I will each lend a hand in kind

Continue to see yourself as worthy in the eyes of your creator
For such are the shortcomings of nature 
Even we human beings who’re meant to be better, 
...always falter
Even the machines we make with our acute intelligence, 
...always have their failures

It’s not time to point fingers of blame
It’s time to offer tonnes of help
Even he who has help worth only a feather’s weight
Will find his place in the plaque of gratitude
...For helping restore the better days

The past is what was
The present is the gift we’ve been waiting for
We must now make profit of the achievements we harnessed in yester days
For today is for the purpose of manufacturing a better day

It is so hard to move forward while fixated with the scenery passed
So please to all of us in misfortunes of a kind
Let’s carry on ahead and take from the past 
....only the wealth of better lessons and faith
For as sure as one step ahead of the next will make us progress
Tomorrow is sure to erase all the sorrows and regrets
...and all the pains of yester days

Be keen, on your face a better smile to paint
Be keen, in your heart a better feeling to pump
Be keen, in your mind a better lesson to plant
Be keen, in your present a better experience to deserve
Be keen, in your future a better result to forecast

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My Journey today

I rise from my bed with a smile on my face.
My heart has returned to a very safe place.
All of the bad has vanished without a trace.
I look to the sky and dream of this vast space.

I go for a walk the sun shines in my eyes.
All that I can see is the bluest of skies.
It seems so quiet I could hear a pin drop.
As I continue my journey to reach the top.

Sometimes I wonder will I ever get there,
Other times it seems like I really don’t care.
Things will just happen I wish to be part,
This contentment does grow inside my heart.

The birds are singing as they fly overhead.
I look at the trees they appear to be dead.
I know that are sleeping, taking a winter nap
Soon they will make syrup from the trees sap.

I walk by the pond the light glitters on the top.
It is much like a mirror I see my face as I stop.
The reflection shows all the beauty, that surrounds,
A wind gently blows some leaves across the ground.

Though I’ve been here before today seems so new,
Everything I see as well as everything that I do.
It almost as if I’m seeing for the very first time,
I find some new rungs on this ladder I climb.

I take in all the sights and then it’s time to go.
The sun high in the sky my shadow does show.
The more that I see the less that I seem to know,
The peace in my heart shall continue to grow.

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Frozen Feelings

Frozen Feelings

Like ice and ice
Satin purple ribbon in between
Describe the lines
Echoes, and voice in between
Like a sculpture of an angel
Holding a frozen ice cold heart
She’s the ice princess of your
Fenced in world
Defined by limits of your own mind
Co-sign her heart to dependence
For you can’t overcome the shadows of your past
And the horns sound
To glorify her
And what are you supposed to do 
When the world adores the ice princess
Of your heart
If only you could melt her
To only to chisel her
Into your truest of true beauty queen
But no she’s your angel 
Frozen and unmoving at times
To an exaggerated few

Sing her praises
Compliment her ways
See the angel and not your past
See the in between lines of what is not being said
Hear the silence of her words
That you are her comfort and company
And your heart is irreplaceable to her
Skate an imperfectly perfect line
As the flowers adorn your love
Yeah,  co-sign your lover and skate 
On the ice in the vehicle of your  chariots
And the song never ends
And the story only bends
And the days grow shorter
And the years grow longer
And together you sing a song together
Melted hearts become one beating 
To the sound of its
Own drum

By Susan Mills

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My deeper thoughts


     have you ever tasted the dark, been without the light
     does your lips moisten when you wish for me

     the tightness grows in the pit of arousal
     killing of this pain is what i pray for in the sunlight

     my broken wings want to flutter
    wisping pin pricks across my aching body

    memories flow through my third eye

    and a shake storms my body awake

    I' am  no longer blind

    my visions steal my heart away

    I am not suffocating
    I am breathing into you

    this is imaginary

   all i feel is in my memory

   killing me inside

   struggeling to touch reality

   out of the ashes I see a face

   I can barely taste his tongue

    licking the inside of my mouth

   the sky breaks up through the storm

   and my hate spreads between his legs

   thunder strikes and lightning sears my heart

   rain pounds through our crushing bodies

   rendering me careless as it drips

   forming the puddle of my passion

  the ashes float away and the body stands before me

  reaching for my soul

  attaching his emptiness to my inner being

  breathing me awake he so carelessly serves my timid heart to his

  combining us as one

  tearing me away from myself

  til the brittle bones break

  breath the last one into my sullen body

  build my soul around your hope and spread the warmth

  cry the tear drop deep into the black

  and light me with swords of which you pull hate

  angry me with your words

  unleash your pleasure upon the seed of happiness

  bite and taste my flesh

  treasure my scent forever locked inside your memory

  i can taste your breath across my tongue

  and the dreams become real

  the bones are mended

  sewed together tight

  blood stops its trickle

  my heart bleeds no more



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Ego or Truth

All I have is one external voice
But I have many internal voices
Not the kind of voices that make me crazy
Although the natural struggle is a bit insane

So many thoughts to express with my words
So many words to express with my voice
Expression is subjective
But my voice is absolute

There is a struggle between ego and truth
Ego is judgment, jealousy, envy, rage and hate
Truth is only love.

The rollercoaster cycle is inevitable
I choose to move through it with grace
And take lessons from it

It’s the natural cycle of things
Up, down, round, and round loop the loop
Then come back down

Then strait and still, 
back to love, back to truth
My voice is absolute

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Working in a Factory of Words n Poetry Soup is the Hub

A hub stays put
But around it the wheel rolls
A hub only feels the weight of the load on the road
But the wheel rubs on the surface of it all

In mud, on dirt, on tar
The wheel is not afraid to roll for it fits within its purpose
The hub always stays put in the middle of the wheel
But with it everywhere it goes

Poetry soup is the hub
And around it like a wheel I’m gonna roll
Sometimes the surface maybe on a tarmac so smooth
Sometimes I may wade through mud so sticky and deep 
Sometimes I may leave so much dust rising on my trail
But an artist is all I am
A creature of emotions working shifts in the factory of words

Mine is just to pack
The emotions endeared to me in the wrappers of words
Each day different from the one gone past
Sometimes it’s heaven is on a roll
Sometimes it’s hell in a storm
But being the servant I am 
My position at the factory
Impels me to wrap it all in the assembly line of words

So please understand
Don’t blame the packer working shifts in the factory of words
Blame the company for producing all the sincere stuff

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Beauty and the Unpublished Author

Far away in a little town tucked in the corner of a map
Lives the girl who ruined his heart
And broke his life

While with him she would smile and laugh so sweet
Tender as only she could be
In his heart she lit even the corners so deep

With time she became his definition of life
In all he did he had her in mind
Life wasn’t life without him seeing her smile

As moments grew into weeks
The flower of his heart started to reveal its wilt
In her eyes no longer was the sparkle he was used to seeing

Winds carried awful odour of their disorder
Tales went round of her illicit exploits behind the counter
The man with the shop at the corner savoured all the honey she offered

At first he dismissed the whispers with laughter
But soon he discovered he was the only one on the other side of reality’s border
Yes indeed, another prince had taken over

Trouble was how sincerely he loved her
Problem was that even she had only love to offer
Issue was he hadn’t yet sold a dime of the books he authored

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We Were All There That Day

All of us were there that day/
Yet not in the physical aspect,
It was a very spiritual notion/
Not some encounter from a heavenly omen,
Beneath the soil amidst a great gulf fix,
Some have become a bit transparent/

Perhaps a little cumbersome ?

While other's having claimed to experience all the fullness,
Little did they know that king's and queen's would all bow to thee,
Amidst the given turmoil of the unfortunate vast excursion !
Still in the garden that day they all fell asleep/
Yet still all of us were there,
When the roman solder's ripped off your beard !

Still some of us it's too hard to fathom it,
Some finding it to intense and a bit weird !
Having common passerby's spit in his face/
While still there were many angels in waiting to take vengeance on those,
Yet Jesus didn't choose that route of passage,

With no sense of remorse nor a common disgrace,

We were all their that day !
Even when beloved Mary your loving mother wept !
Fashioned with real tears for her son,
While they tore into his flesh !
Until there was nothing left but exposed bone,
When all the nails had mounted you to the rugged cross/
We all knew that this wasn't some tragic loss !

With words', "Father please forgive them for they know not what they do ?"
He said the prayer now the rest is up to you ?
We all had learned Lord what your beloved father really knew/
We were all there that day/
When after three days you suddenly rose from the grave !
Although still many had rejected you ?

The god of this world had blinded many eyes/
Does all of this come at some big surprise for it is written in the scriptures for our benefit ?
Lest they all should see and be healed,
For even Pilate had found no fault in thee,
Yet he gave into the crowds cry's and demands !
Having vicious fangs nor swollen teeth/
Which all gnash abruptly !

Having a fish dinner with Peter for breakfast/
The was fully after your grand exit,
We were all there that day/
Henceforth, even to this present moment in time,
Today, everything we pray for we can all visualize you being there,

For we were all their that day !

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Walking up the hill
Head on straight 
Strapping on gloves
Sitting on the gate
Clipping in the petals
locking up the brakes
and then

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The Art of Living Part Three

Everyone was crying except for me, I couldn’t cry. I didn’t understand the full extent of the situation. The doctor comes out of the room and tells us that Helen is gone. Immediately I hear Renee saying “Grannies dead”. She cried, and after that everyone did. Mom asked if I wanted to see Helen one last time. I didn’t want see Helen blue and cold, I didn’t want to see her not breathing or moving. I wanted to see her alive, talking, and laughing like she usually does. Helen was a very bright person. When you were sad she would be there to cheer you up. I remember when Helen let me go up to the third floor of the blue house; we found records and cassette tapes. Helen let us have them; I remember they were Beatles records and Neil Young cassette tapes. She also let us have blankets and books on history. I would never give those records away.It was time to leave the hospital. I regretted not seeing Helen, I didn’t know if I would see her again because I wouldn’t be able to make it through the funeral service. I mourned the loss of her and I still do, so I will do anything I can to get this guilt out. I thought about the weekend again and how I could have waited one more hour till she got home so I could see her, but I left. Grandma Sandy said Helen was happy because she got to see her grandchildren wrestle. That Monday Helen was supposed to have a meeting about her will, but she changed it to a different day because she didn’t feel good. She scheduled it for the following Thursday, the day of her funeral. A lot of times I hear her voice and I see her face. I don’t know if it’s because I’m seeing things or if I’m hearing things. I think about her all the time, trying to keep her alive in my memory. I think of that day when I was sitting on the bus after that Metallica song I listened to the Foo Fighters- Let it Die. The lyrics read “Heart of gold but it lost its pride, Beautiful veins and blood shoot eyes, I’ve seen your face in another light, Why did you have to go and let it die, in too deep and out of time, Hearts gone cold and your hands were tied, why did you have to go and let it die?” It was around the time when Helen was laying on the floor, a few minutes before I heard the news. Sometimes I wonder if she was frustrated because of the way people perceived her, or if she was happy enough about the things she realized about herself that she could tolerate the way people perceived her and for that I think she was able to die in a happy state of mind.

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Isn't It Just Like A Women

Isn't it just like a woman 
To want someone to hold her tight 
To comfort her when the bad dreams arive 
In the cold and the darkness of night 

The sweet loving smile of a woman 
Can make your poor heart skip a beat 
Makes a man find the right things to say 
And lay petals of roses at her feet 

Now isn't it just like a woman 
To wonder of stars up above 
And take in the beauty of nature 
Then turn it all into true love 

Now isn't it just like a woman 
With a soul that is tender indeed 
She can comfort the hurt 
And the pain in your heart 

Yes isn't that just like a woman 

David Pennington 

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Such a wonderfully gorgeous occasion 
A time for loved ones to be near 
A time for friends and family 
To gather and witness and cheer 

The church was filled with such joy and bliss 
Not a moment a sound nor a sight to be missed 
As I watched you walk down the isle 
A tear slowly trickled from my eye 

Your beauty enhanced by your brilliant white dress 
An angelic sight I must say 
I could not believe my tear stained eyes 
You simply stole my heart 

The vows that we made came slowly 
As if to last a thousand years 
I take your hand in marriage you take mine the same 
Willing, I give you my heart to keep until my dying day 

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A Rainy day

...Another day has come

with a strange noise

I rushed out the balcony

but I didn't recognize the voice. 

I felt a wet drop of water

looked to the sky. 

" Are the clouds crying?" 

The voice would make a lullaby.

I looked down to our garden

noticed the cries watered it... 

"I know this water."

But I couldn't remember a bit. 

"It's rain!" my sister shouted out loud

she made a really big crowd. 

It's just a rainy day, it's my best day.

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Immortality; The Unopened Gift! (Part 2)

Mind’s serpent illusion, must be brought to a real conclusion,
As the serpent’s mind  illusion is only a fleshly protrusion
No persona of head or mind, can stand the test in time’s line
Nor can it ever align, with our love’s faith, within love’s kind
As the heart says I am full of love, from above, very fine

Generations of strife, has caused a very  difficult life
For to behold love’s glow, to do so, of the mind very slow
Is a heavy blow, to it’s ego, to go, to heart, to start
Mind  has quaked at it’s mistake, taking a very sacred cake
Mind took the cake, having nothing to do, with it’s  make or bake

The heart’s depart, from the mind’s mistake, was for love’s sake
Spinning within, saving itself  from the sin, of the  mind’s quake
All that was left, to do or pursue, the only choice to make
The heart left mind’s dilemma, left alone, mind, began to pine
Slowly beholds a glow, of heart’s light, realizing it’s plight

From heart’s light, receives it sight, previously regarded with spite
A light, from within it’s own heart, now mind may see it’s part
In time to find itself to be, the servant part, of the heart
The whole of  love’s self of which it is only a servant part
The moral of this story, of course is love’s glory

In a mind of hoping, heaven is a closed fallopian
Jesus, the present is coping, but has never been opened,
By your hoping! Your faith is safe within! But heart has clavis
And Love  the key, be that you see, a brother to Jesus be
Walk the floor of the world  no more, love key, open’s heart’s door

The kingdom is within you, of life begin ye, anew
Life light will brighten, mind enlighten, by golden hue
And trouble will all ease, with gracious and sacred new lease,
And strife will all cease,  with love’s immortality, much peace
Love is the source, by Jesus of course, the abundant new lease!! 


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In My Hands

Taking shape.

From ingredients.
Insignificant apart.
Parts of little value.
Made into something else


The art takes form.
Moving within my hands.
With control.
With a goal.

The mind moves.
Creativity flows.
The hands work.
Completing this work of art.

Only after 8 minutes.

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Remember how neither one of us could remember how we became friends. 
Remember the summers when we would hang out together all day long.
Remember the time you told the man in the McDonalds drive thru that I wanted his 
Remember when we would just sit around and laugh at everything each other said. 
Remember how we set our halfway boundary to the pole in the middle of the field…
but you always seemed to move it closer to your house as we walked. 
Remember when we knocked on that window and it turned out to be the wrong one 
and we had to run and hide.
Remember the trip to Moody and we both rode in the backseat because we didn’t 
trust your Aunt’s driving.
Remember when we made the plans to visit the colleges together that each of us 
planned to attend after this year; Sam Houston for you and Angelo State for me. 
Remember when we sat on Santa Claus’s lap together even though we both were 
too old.
Remember when we didn’t use the word goodbye it was always “see ya lata.” 
Remember that party we went to and laughed forever on the way Craig acted. 
Remember how we used to use the Navarro mail to email each other.
Remember how we used to just sit in your car for hours just talking about our life 
and the plans we had made. 
Remember how you would almost knock my arm off when you laughed.
Remember when we said “best friends to the end.”
Remember when you told me when I ever need anything or just needed to talk, to 
call or come to you. 
Remember how I never got to say “see ya lata.”
Remember that day after Christmas when you left me. 
I remember the feeling of knowing that I will not be able to hear your laugh, voice, or 
I remember how I will never get to hear you say “Whatchu doin” even though you 
see exactly what I’m doing.
I remember how it hurts my heart when I think how I passed by your house on 
Christmas and something told me to stop but I didn’t. 
I remember that I never got to tell you Merry Christmas or Happy New Years. 
I remember how I kept calling your phone when they told me you were gone and 
you didn’t answer.
I remember that the hole in my heart is because my best friend is gone…and will 
never come back.

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vignette-RHYTHM IN ART

He loved a lady,twice his age
In his heart a passion raged
He added her nam to his-
A young talent sadly cut short
Dying in WW1,as he so bravely fought

Tribute to Henri Gaudier-Brzeska (1891-1915) & his platonic love affair with Sophie Brzeska

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The Diary Of Lord Kellington (8)

Oh, the fine attire.  
Women in low cut, grand gowns.
Men in their finest plumage.
Strutting Peacocks, aiming to draw attention.

I wore tails of silk, with fine brocade work as the trim, down the sleek lapels.  I dressed 
entirely in black.  From head to toe.

I looked splendid!
I stood out from the Peacocks, as a Raven would
stand out among Doves.
Cunning as a Raven too.  She had not one suspicion.

I was at my best.
Charming, witty, a mystery.  Women fall for that.

I slowly, cunningly stalk my prey.  A vision in gold.
I danced with her.  Her gold, a perfect foil to my black.
I charmed her sweetly.  I maneuvered her easily.

I had previous, had the chance to find the spot, 
where she would become mine.  Such a pretty throat.  One that I will drown within.

Once outside, hidden, strategically from all eyes, I began my "dance".
I gaze down into her eyes.  Her precious heart begins to race.  I can feel her blood.  It 
calls to me with it's song.
A song of need.
Her breaths slowed and deepened.  Her eyes remained locked with mine.

I let her see then, the glory of what I am.  She wanted to scream.  But, I had control 

My incisors grew.  Their points very sharp indeed.  My muscles bulked.  I ruined my fine 
new coat.  Split the shoulder seams right out.

I toyed with her.  I kiss her lips so gently.  She trembled for me.  I tried to hold back, 
wanting to prolong her fear.

Blood lust is, what is.  I could smell her rich, thick blood.  I wanted it all.  I wanted to 
bathe in it.  Feel it glide over my skin.

My fangs sank deep.  Drawing up the precious blood.  Elixir of life.
As I fed, I heard her heart slowing with each draw I took.  

And just before death could claim her, I released her from her thrall, to scream.  It was 
the last sound I heard as the men came running.  I took my leave.

I am a monster.
I do it well and I love it so.
Soon the sun shall rise again.
I will sleep as the dead.

~Lord Kellington

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The Art of Living Part Two

Monday, February 27th   
The bell rings and all the people walk out to get on their buses or to get to their cars. I 
walk with some of my friends as we talk about what happened the day before. I finally 
reach my bus, and find the number of my bus seat. I sit down and pull out my iPod, and 
I listen to “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica. I am thinking about the weekend when I 
went to go see granny Helen on Saturday, but she wasn’t there, she was at a wrestling 
match. It is now Monday and I thought about her for some odd reason. After an hour we 
finally reached my house; I have to walk a mile to get to my back yard. I calmly walk up 
towards the house and I open the door. I sat my book bag down on the floor, that’s 
when I heard a sound coming from my mom’s room. I quietly opened the door and I see 
that she has been crying, my brother was sitting on her bed. She looks at me when I 
asked her what was wrong, if it was her boyfriend? Or if something happened to my 
sister? She responds “Granny Helen is in very bad condition, they don’t think she’s going 
to make it.”I asked “what happened?” She puts on her jacket and grabs the keys.
She started the car and said “Granny was sitting at the table, she told Gino (her 
boyfriend) that she couldn’t breathe, and he laid her on the floor then called 911. By the 
time they got there it was too late, she already turned blue, her eyes were bloodshot 
and wide open, when the paramedics came they used a breathing tube on her, they 
kept her heart pumping even though she was gone. You could hear the water in her 
lungs.” During that time my mom called several people and told them the news. I 
remember when I used to go up to the blue house where granny lived, me and my 
cousins would be up there and we would play, watch scary movies and eat grannies 
tuna casserole. I was four when I started calling Helen, Granny Helen.  
I sat in the car thinking about all the years I had with granny Helen. My mother and 
brother were still crying, there was no way a tissue could help. I couldn’t find a reason 
to cry yet, because I knew that there could be a chance she would come back. 
We finally arrive at the hospital. We see Jason, Megan’s husband and we ask him where 
they have Helen; he ignored us and kept on walking. I got upset, knowing that it was 
serious and maybe she was already gone. We asked the lady where Helen was, which 
room she was in.

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I Was So Young Just Yesterday

The youth that entails a subtle declaration
is the man that recalls life and love without hesitation.

Today I walk
and talk 
with ease

The man I loved
and stuck
Was pleased

But the younger me 
of yesterday
Wants to speak
And never hesitates

What would he say
if he could say it to me
He would say I made my bed
Now I must cry myself to sleep

Maybe, tomorrow when I finally wake up
It will be a brand new play.
I'll wake up knowing all the answers
And tell them to the me of yesterday.

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Dreams in slow motion,
Dancing in the lead;
Have you lost control...
Of the long planted seed?
Growing out of refuge...
The flowers in your mind;
Will you draw me a picture...
Of all that is undefined?

Draw them curtained;
Masked in the finest drape,
For reality needs not...
To find an escape;
But to see truth...
Behind these wall flowers;
Reveal to us...
The power of all powers...

For dreams bare nothing,
But hopes unknown;
While man seeks greatness,
To be written in stone.
In a day of souls for sale,
May you dream me perfection?
I have not a single hope,
Scaled in every direction...

Please rest young dreamer,
For we are all the same...
Tied to a faction,
Behind dreams that never came.
For your drawings mean nothing;
When we're all blind...
A sad proclamation...
But it's how we're designed.

This is but a moment,
In the poor dreamer's brain.
So don't forget the ending,
As we're inching down the drain.
Draw me a picture... 
Telling our future's tale;
And he threw me a dollar,
Screaming our future's for sale...

Before I knew it he’d left;
Running away screaming in his depart.
Who would’ve thought...
That a dreamer’s dreams could tear ‘em apart?
Beep... Beep... Beep...
And my eyes, I’ve just opened...
Shutting off the stupid alarm clock,
Realizing the dream that just happened...

The reality of it all...
Trying to put two and two together;
An idea by which to relate,
And changed my mind forever...
That we could all be dreamers,
Caught up in our own dream;
Subject to our curtains,
But never as we seem.

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Speaking from the podium, to thank 
all for my Poet Laureate Award;
overwhelmingly glad to receive it
from the hands of a famous critic...
I discern how the audience loves my lyric!

I have never spoken so openly
about the idealism and realism of my poetry;
and they are listening, focused on my lines
recited softly to them with emotions and tears,
and their positive response is my reward. 

Applaud me for creating new rhymes and rhythms,
poetic words inspired by the wilderness of frontiers,
by the truthful insights I expressed with my momentum;
unlikely other poets, who are perpetuate in memoriam,
and lie into tombstones never having been given honor.     

Entered in Brian Strand's Poet Laureate contest

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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A pollock 'broke the ice'
Making abstract look so nice,
New York became 'Centre du monde'
As avant-garde crossed the 'pond'-
A style of which I'm very fond !

Tribute to Jackson Pollock 1912-56 creator of 'drip' 'flick' and 'stick'

To see my drip painting please go to my retrospectives page at

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The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.

The throbbing verses of cultures

Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.

Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.

Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.

Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."

Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.

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To mother, my photocopy
To mother's love so high 
To her undying feelings
My image maker in the eve of
My waxing re-refinement
Things will never be left unsaid
Words will never be left untouched
But reasons be kept in my mind to love
She bred me in mountain to redefine the
Image of my root
Hear me mother, i cometh forth 
In me lies faith and drive so 
Pure to redirect light to shine
Among those black hearts that lives down the valley .

To father's brave spirit that materialized my image
My carbon copy, my second god
The smiles of my soul in the new moon
My heart of thanks rest not until
Those tears will be shade in my present for joy
I have brought from abroad
Hear me daddy. i curse not the day you
Welcomed me to your wonderful home
Like a rose, i will spring forth, erect 
smile to the beautiful moon, look at the 
Sun in the face for not in me was fear made 
Not in me was hatred bred.
I cometh forth to redeem and bring light.

To sister, the bravest of all
When the circumstances was tensed 
You stood firmly behind me in unity against
All odds to see me through.
Those funny stupid move of searching for the
Faded identity of which i was made
You recreate my being and gave me reasons to break 
Forth the stories of unattained dreams
showered me love in hatred
here i come in peace.

To brother, the handsome of all
To his most intelligent moves
Am almost there Ugomsinachi
I am becoming a great novelist and poet.
Words unsaid hurt a lot in heart
The sky knows my worth, the moon smiles to ease my pains
The air, sun and grasses are never asleep.
As i have thought in recent years 
I will be coming home 
Coming for my dream wife to reign.

Say me well for i write not for the craving night 
To see the day in this world of agony
To Madam Moses, i love, she bred the Hero in me
To MRs Esther, i deserve, she kissed awAy my pains
To mr Uche, he made the light
I forget not the erudite viewers and writers
Who cheered me always at the contest
Never get tired, i am coming for the prize
is not all alone.    

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The End of My Nightmare

The dark took from the space I lived
And it buried me deep inside
But I struggled within my own soul
Leaving my heart and mind behind

I saw an open space where I crawled under
I could see a stream of light shining through
But the more further I reached there, it was getting harder
And I was stucked in the middle of the truth

I cried for help without my voice screaming
I tried to reached my hands forward to freedom
The world was spinning in my head
I decided I would have to stay here a little longer

Angels surrounded me when times I am in fear
And I seized all that pain away
Follow all my unfulfilling footsteps
I would never get lost in the way

And so I found the light again
It was becomeing large as I move closer
The dark faded as I went to open the door
And there was when I realised it's over

In the end of my nightmare
I struggled upon my very feet
Trying to stand with my mind broken
I won't wait till I bleed

At the end of this nightmare
I opened my arms wide in the light under the sun
And I stare into the blue sky which i had longing to see
Open my eyes to the clouds moving east
I saw the birds flying over me
And the nightmare I fought through
And in the end of my nightmare
I had finally found the hidden truth

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Call Archimedes Again

My heart is beating once again!
Call Archimedes from his grave so we may celebrate!
Eureka! I found it again!
My heart’s pain has gone away!
My life’s darkness has lifted away!
Stark in the middle of the wilderness I have regained the way!
Oh! How beautiful it is to see and feel me back on my way!

Eureka! I found it again!
Call Archimedes from his grave so we may celebrate again!
Writing literature in my dreams,
While praying for success in my sleep!
Writing poems in my head while strolling ahead!
Painting masterpieces in my head while bathing at midday!
Seeing tomorrow today while it’s still too much work away!
Oh! How beautiful it is to see and feel me back on my way!

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The Diary Of Lord Kellington (14)

I hold in my hand, a human heart.
A mortal heart.
A dead heart.

Yet, for the briefest of instances, I felt it beat.
That expansion of life.  The thump, that is music to my ears.
He put up quite a fight.
his will was strong.  I had to exert more than a mere thought of will upon his mind.
I had to concentrate as never before.
He was a new experience for me.
It vexed me.

He laughed at me in the end.  
Even as his own life's blood, filled my mouth and flowed down my throat.
Even as his heart slowed, he laughed.
He did not laugh when he saw his own heart in front of his cold dead eyes.

I will keep this heart to remind myself of my struggle with a strong will.  So as not to 
become to sure of myself and my prowess.  But, I did win.

A paper weight.   Or I could rest my quill within it, like a pin cushion.
It looks rather nice upon my desk.

~Lord Kellington

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Why Cant You See

My sweet dark angle  why can you not see my face.
I stand befor you my words unmask  me yet you  question who am I?
Madness  can eat away at that which appears same.

In the arms of another you choose to confide.
Was he that which you thought I could not be?
Blind you are blind for I stand in plain sight yet still you cannot see.

I knew of him befor you ever said.
A taken man cant ever truley share his heart only
his bed.

Cruel are the ways of lovers bitter turn  the ways of passion.
For the fires flame can so quickly consume.
Playing with a fools heart tossing like a childs toy
across the room.

You are the dagger within my side.
I the willing victim  for it was within 
your darkness i did confide.

With every kiss I taste blood apon my lip.
Your eyes refflect innocence .
 But  the illusion of love is broken with the 
pain brought like the lash of a whip.

There is much agony in love.
Hates resides in passion.
My mask no longer exists.
Is it outta of ignorance or fear that causes 
you not to see?

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Dreams Or The Gates

Dreams Or The Gates

I'm going to fall i'm going to rise Then I'm going to see myself. 
wondering who is the person I'm looking at  someone who like me in every way.
Who are you as i touch the glass to the other world
The other me says i am you and you are me we are on int he same bound to the world of lies and evil
How can we be the same we are apart and yet we move like one this is something of a dream
If only dream weren't the gate to this world would I cease to exist in your mind and heart
I could only stare i couldn't speak I am lost beyond any form of knowledge Waiting for someone knight of grass plate to come and save me from this place.
My other self say you may leave but I watch i shall keep you forever and ever
I say that is no freedom I wish to have unless it is my own.So I run and jump to where i will meet my end my only wish is that i could have seen your smiling face once more and cry as i fall into a endless slumber

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Under the Sun

Who treads the high places on the earth,
Who gave our planet joy in rebirth?
Who turns the shadow of death into morning,
Who turned transgression into mourning?

Increased knowledge increases sorrow,
With all that we carry into tomorrow;
For in wisdom there’s always much grief,
To scar a mind with our unbelief.

We need His wisdom to guide our heart,
To take what we have and set us apart.
All is in vain, just grasping the wind,
All we look for is not easy to find.

Even at night the heart takes no rest,
We’ve lost the way with all that was blessed;
That which is done is what will be done,
For there is nothing new under the sun.

Unto everything there is a new season,
So we stop to search the reason;
For God is in heaven and we upon earth
So we need to accept all that has worth.

We cannot remember that which was,
For we have forsaken God’s precious laws;
Nor will we remember all that will come,
For all things are evil under the sun.

God has no pleasure in vacant fools,
Who go their own way and forsake His rules;
Therefore let all of your words be few,
And may all our actions help to renew.

Like shadows passing through days of life,
Coming with silence and bringing much strife;
Then that which profits those seeing the sun,
Is all that gives true life to everyone.
The race isn’t to swift or battle to strong,
For things that divide us from right and wrong;
I considered in my heart all of these things,
For sorrow and sadness that evil brings.

Like thoughts that pass through weary years,
Coming in silence, bringing shed tears;
The memory’s forgotten, it has no share,
For we’ve been deceived and caught in the snare.

From the book of Ecclesiastes


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Flora in a portrait style
In his unique botanic file
A tribute to von Linne,
Robert's liftime stint-
This monument in print

Tribute to Temple of Flora by Robert Thorton (1768-1837)

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Come dine with me this night
Upon the  bread of sweet thought
And the wine odf delight-
The invite to William's select few
Spiritual friends,his mind's eye drew.

Tribute to William Blake-Artists & poets of his past,who he felt compatible with and referred 
to as his spiritual friends (see more about William in my blog today)

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vignette-MUMMY' S BOY

A batchelor,living with his mum
Edouard's print mada a tidy sum
Patterns based on her dress-making trade
Filld h art Vuillard made-
Thus his fame did not fade !

Edoard Vuillard 1868-1940 The Avenue

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Wedded to the past

The iconography of childhood gives more vivid memories,
like an inward looking that draws to depth and human connections;
those relationships with family members, friends, and relations
the best of times and known to be the memorable years gone by.

To stir the pot and get myself riled up about human depth –
in many areas of concern and struggles to cope with life,
a culture of love gets developed and rolls through the years;
a dependable compass, an anchor that assures great strength.

It’s the habit of my mind and heart that keeps me growing
immersing constantly in the ordinariness of my routines;
form certain messages that shape my choices and decisions;
elsewhere in the context that brings me to embrace what life really is.

Perhaps it’s good to connect the wisdom of the past to present situation;
there’s complimentarity of actions with vision and interior inspiration
yes, with sense of connection and willingness to proclamation;
God, indeed, makes the experience worth thinking and sharing.

The crucible of commitment to the values of God’s kingdom,
reflects my interior disposition to enhance them through actions;
with endless thinking, meditating and ruminating the Sacred Scriptures,
can crown the heart that speaks volumes about dedication to my vocation.

There’s still the umbilical cord of my calling since childhood,
the ‘yes’ to God, the source and author of my priestly life;
with a great deal about ‘how I live and live out of my love,
like a climate change, a moral wavelength wedded to my calling.

Truly, it’s a never ending affair with God in many contexts,
amid the advancing forces of secularism and modernity;
not an easy world to live with; a real challenge with strident voices,
with so many meanings and understandings as life unfolds.

To find the language which describes mobility in my spirituality,
a point in time which braces for my daily encounter with God;
his mysterious signs and wonders that make me walk with him,
in worship and service to Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.

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Mary and Angelica ,ladies of great renown
Painters extraordinaire in Ol' London town
Both founding members of the R & A
Still life,portraits & history on a grand scale-
Left out of a group painting because they were not male !

Mary Moser & Angelica Kauftmann help to found the R & A but were left out of the 1770's 
painting of Academicians .There wer to be no other women members until 1922.

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My Hearts Desire

He stares at this work of art when I’m not looking.
I admire his silhouette from a distance.
He wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
Yet my love barely knows of my existence.

I think about the warmth that we could possibly share,
As I live this elegant moment in time. 
I can only dream of our bodies harmonizing into one,
Because in reality I understand that he’ll never be mines.

He creates an image inside of his mind,
On what it would feel like to have me near.
And although there is another male contour standing next to me, 
I can only dream of his frame and soul standing here.

He fantasizes about taking the place of my companion.
And I willingly join him by taking his hand.
We complete a voyage of eternal love…
…as I’m snapped back into the present by my actual man.

My mate can feel a difference but can’t confront the truth,
That the woman he loves is slowly slipping away.
Her heart is being stolen by the one that she has adored before him, 
And this feeling of loss is growing rapidly every day.

She can’t break his heart because she’ll feel selfish,
But in the process I know that I’ll be breaking my own.
And to breakup with someone that truly cares about her,
Would not only be heartless but wrong.

So therefore I can only imagine being with my loves presence,
And my love can only dream of being with me.
We have to live with the fact that we can only adore each other from afar,
Which means that likely we could never, ever be.

The unity of our mind body and soul,
Was the one thing that my heart desired.
Since I have to think of someone else for a change,
The lust and adoration for him would have to burn in the fire.

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The Falling: Part II

Thats all she needs.
She desperatly wants his strong, protective arms to wrap around her and sheild her from this cruel world, this world that has broken her.
She desperatly needs him to whisper to her the words that would set her free.
That everything will be ok, and that he won't ever leave,
Like the many times before, where she would lie in his arms for hours
just listening to him breath in and out. His steady heartbeat playing its beautiful composition in her ear. The most signifigant sound in her world. 
She drops to her knees, pulling her drentched hair from its roots,
Screaming at the heavens.
The heavens respond with a loud bellow,
shaking the earth beneath her.
She knows the truth.

Yet she refuses to accept it.

The pouring rain continues to fall.
She continues to break.

He does not exist.
Not anymore.
He never did.

She wanted it too much.
She wanted to feel love.
She wanted to feel human.
She wanted to feel the unconditional need to be with another person,
and have that feeling returned with equal amounts of passion.

Was it too much to ask for?
Is it too much to ask for?

She can not move.
The rain starts to freeze mid air,
violently pelting her exposed body, leaving red marks as proof.
She does not care.
She can not feel.

The heavens cry out to her, begging her to get up, 
To get help.
She refuses.
All she needs is him.
Who ever He is...
Where ever He is...
She will wait.
Wait for all of eternity if need be.
She will wait for the unconditional love.
For that unruly passion that burns in both of their souls.
She waits for the man who was designed to love her,
to need her the same way she needs him.
She waits for the man who cannot live without her warmth,
her touch. 

And with that,
She slowly, unwillingly pushes herself off the muddy pavement,
permitting herself one final glance at the angry sky,
catching a glimpse at her diamond among coal
Her only friend in the wake of night.
The moon.
"Save me, my angel...Save me."
she whispers towards the sky, allowing a tiny smile to dance across her pale, desolate face
Before returning back to her throne in her cold, abandon dungon, her in lonly, abandon castle.

Feeling a new emotion she's never felt before.


Hope shoots across her sky like a metor.
Shinning so bright, filling her with warmth that blinds her.
The heavens cry out,
He will find her one day.
And she will be waiting. 

[.Because Falling in love, Is giving someone the power to break you.]

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A Blessing In The Heat (Part 2)

Johnny Clare is an example of many a young man who Cowboy'd in the truest sense of the word. He did a job. He did it well. Though he met an untimely end, his life did not go unnoticed. Continental Oil Company put up a monument to a young man who worked for them, but Larry McWhorter's words made him real. The essence of who he was is immortalized in that poem. It is more than a poem about one is a poem about every Cowboy who ever rode for the Brand. It is a poem about the heart and soul of men who built our country through hard work and sacrifice. It is a poem about one man's basic belief that time may march on, but those everyday Cowboys like Johnny Clare will not be forgotten. The monument stands as a reminder of "where," but Larry McWhorter's words stand as a reminder of "why." His words, a tribute to the spirit of man and a lesson on how to live what you love.

I cried that day. Tears of joy for having shared this moment with Larry and Andrea; for having one of my heroes of Cowboy Poetry recognize me and for his gift of words to me. We have been friends since. I love and respect him and Andrea; because they are good, kind, strong people of the land with deep conviction in their faith and strong relationship with the Savior. They live each day with grace, they give that grace to others and they make all strangers friends. Proud am I that I know them. Lucky am I that I got to go to Weatherford, Texas that day.

I have learned that it's not the trail we ride, but the tracks we leave behind for others to follow that matters. Time may march on, but word and deed live on forever; as does the spirit of any person dedicated to living life to the fullest while serving their fellow man. The impression we leave is our memorial to this earthly life. Building a monument with words and telling the stories about others so they are never forgotten is our memorial
to those we love and admire. Johnny Clare, Larry McWhorter, all those men I grew up with and those I am privileged to call my friends; all living life their way by the Grace of God, all fighting the good fight and marching forward no matter the obstacles, all inspiring us to live life to its fullest. When it comes to great men of heart and spirit the memory never fades and the words of praise are endless. And that, my friends, is the greatest monument of all.

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The feel of Love

It is there I sat here all alone.
As I think of a woman not here in my arms.
There my love lingers in blues.
As I fill the emptiness of my soul down deep.
It's there my heart longs for love.
As I miss a woman’s love.
It is years that has past since I have felt pure love.
But even more I have never had a first love.
But there I long to be near one to hold.
As I feel I have became a nun with no one to love.
As it is that I am getting none makes me feel alone.
Not having one to touch and show my true heart.
It is there my soul cries for someone to love.
As I think of my pain of not having you here.
It is there it drives me crazy out my mind.
Just thinking of the moments we could share.
As I think of your curves and beauty you portray.
It's there I would love you for hours in the day.
As you would have the best of even foreplay. 
That when the time came, you would be wet with excite.
Not just your juices from inside but the sweat that would fall.
As I would taste each flavor all the way to your inner wall.
As the both of us would find a passion of love from inside.
But most of all, we would love of the heart and soul.
As you would know the way you make me feel.
Just by my action and the words I say.
You would know you are love by a true man.
Only to show the same in return.
But there you would feel like never before.
Because I would love you all the way to the floor.
But you would have tingles you could not explain.
Just because it's me there next to you loving in many ways.
It's there I give you my heart forever in life.
If ever that day comes and I make you my wife.
I promise to always fill you with the love and joy in life.
And never forsaking the one I would like to be with for life.
But knowing it is your beauty that I strive each day.
As my heart beats for only you, I dream of the day. 

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The Falling: part I


Loud noise.

but it was not just noise, no, not to her.
It was the wild cries from the heavens, calling out to her, reassuring her that everything will be ok, that there is somebody out there who understands, who is just like her.
She emerges from her throne, in her cold, abandon dungon, in her lonly, abandon castle where she is kept prisoner. Kept prisoner from her dreams, her temptations, herself.


The scent stunns her.
Memories from her former life proceed to play like a movie in her memory...
a movie that she can not pause, can not forget.
She stumbles, -afraid to move for the thought that this magical moment may dissapear if she becomes too hasty- to her only escape.
Destroying the barriers that stand in her path.

Ice cold.
The tiny rain drops fall from the sky,
releasing her temporarily from her own personal hell.
From judgment.
From criticism.
From the abandonment that overpowers her.

Lifting her pale, desolate face to the sky
she lets the rain wash away...
Wash away the hate
Wash away the pain
Wash away the lonliness
Wash away the end.

She cries.
No one would notice, the rain unselfishly disguises her pain so any on lookers would assume that the moisture is just from the malicious storm.
The wind.
So rude, so loud, whips past her.
Attempting to knock the fragile being to the ground.
But she is strong, stronger than she thinks.
She is not phased by it's attempt.
Mother nature is kind.
The heavens cry out again,
begging the young girl to remember, to be happy.
But she cannot.
She can't breath.
She can't think.
Her heart stopped beating a long time ago.
Stopped dead in her lonly, broken chest,
and the heavens cannot understand why

No one can.
But no ones ever tried.
Suddenly, the vicious winds attack her once more,
this time getting a reaction.
A violent tremmor shakes her body
raising goosebumbps on her skin.
She barely notices.
Her imagination runs free, 
unleashing all her memories, all her former happiness.
They all consist of Him.....

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The Best that I can

I awake this morning with anew bounce in my step
I’m not certain where I’m going but I’m not there yet
I just can’t believe how life changes everyday
 I am grateful and proud to be part of today.

I seem to meet people from all walks of life
They all want to leave behind the struggle and strife
There is so much more if you only just look
Go out and live it because it won’t be in a book.

I can never remember me being this way
As I drift slowly from the safety of the bay
Everything I see becomes a part of me
The more pieces that join in, the more that I see

I am really quite thankful yet what is it I deserve?
It seems I’ve found purpose and that’s what I’ll serve
It gives me direction a new path to go
The more that I learn the less I know.

I wish to thank everyone that’s along for the ride
With my heart on my sleeve, the emotions I can’t hide
You all join together and make me who I am
I hope with my heart I do the best that I can.

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My cat

The cat just left the door open again tonight
I wish they would do what I think is right
Although they may not scratch or even bite
But my feet are cold, frostbite is in sight.

I close the door but she opens it again
The temperature inside starts to descend
She comes to it circle up and get a treat
Or just climb up and take away my seat.

I love her dearly but it's getting cold
That cat just simply put me on hold
It's just the way it is or so I'm told
But it seems my cat is becoming quite bold.

Her name is Nola but I call her Storkula J
When night time comes you better look the other way
She is certain to show you what a good hunter she can be
The carnage is the dead bodies in the backyard you can see.

She is able to catch a bird from out of the air
When you find it in the house it gives you a scare
So you try to save it and let it go out
The cat glares back with what looks like a pout.

When I had my heart attack she sat at my feet
I don’t know if she cared or just wanted a treat
It really doesn’t matter because I survived
The cat made me smile and feel quite alive.

I haven’t seen her in quite some time 
She lives with my ex but she treats her fine
I just hope in my heart she does not forget about me
Because she gave me the strength so that I could just be.

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The Nkporo Maidens 
Are waiting down the great street
Of perfection to be crowd with 
Love for their honourable deeds

I watched them danced yesterday
At the Agbala with their bangles 
and jewelries.
Their breast stood in happiness
Later Each began to go up and down
In salute to the Audience
Their bodies answering the call of their feelings
Their were spirited in the thunder of perfection
Sparkling like the sun

I think they were the best to none
As i watched them entangled in the dance
Our deities their were, the lilies of our lives
No one does it better than those 
Maidens from Nkporo who tells a fascinating
Stories with the movement of their bodies. 

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A letter to my friend - II

To my dearest dear…
I hope you are doing fine
Here am occupied by laboring time
I came along to write for you
Hear from you after a long-time.
The last I met you at my place
I remember that day when you smiled at my face
Since then it had been a year
I miss you like a meteor lost in space.
Overnight chit-chats and long distance calls
Without you my friend
I would have lost nothing but all.

The day when I first saw you at the college canteen
My friend! Please forgive me
As I saw you that moment bit adversely. 
Yet, it was so kind of you
That you meant for friendship,
I would never forget this acquaintance
An inbound eternal relationship.
I like you the way you speak
Specially when you speak overslowly,
I love you the way you care
Specially when you soothe me.
I admire your respect towards me
Specially when you intend me,
I wonder your candidness
Specially when I speak craps and nonsenses. 
I laugh when I think of your responses
Towards those names given
I smile at your melodrama
And often by those conflicts again and again. 
I felt so calm
A time when I shared my baffled charm
I felt so celestial
A time when you eased me by your warm. 

My friend! If ever you need me
I will kill myself if you remind me that
I’ll read your mind, I will read your eyes
I’ll read your voice
And you will see me there. 

How far you are going
You deserve a lot to me
Not matter if you forget me
I will live with your memories
Thinking that you are always there. 
But promise me this won’t happen
Or else its easy to say
In reality I may lose myself once again.

I just wanted to hear from you today
And I just wish you live a long way
You live with no fear, no tears
I promise you a day you will always find me near.

Oh! My friend
I miss you like anything
Just before leaving
I want to say you goodbye.
The words written for you today
Are written forever…
Just will wait to hear from you, a reply
Till then take care and bubye. 
With love from…your longed amigo.

(Please note: This poem is dedicated to my friend Angshumala Goswami)

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Child Dreamer

The view I see so beautiful a new horizon a bright sky
everything’s falling into place.
Vibrations have started paving the way for a new life
Magnificent sights and wonders captured within my mind
Excitement within my heart beating faster
Air I breath I'm feeling good
Born with a gift within my labyrinth
Like the magic of a crystal
Images I see time talks to me
I close my eyes century’s pass me by
Looking in the sky my mind can fly messages I hear
By the water my power grows
By the touch of a hand a deep emotion I feel
I am the messenger from the light
My life force has the everlasting glow
The road that I travel lies deep within a realm of enlightened thought
In this land I am a mystic
Abilities within my heart and mind have no boundaries
My wisdom teaches the children of life
My thoughts can move the megaliths
With the wave of my hand a portal open up
Through this dimension angels guide my inner soul
Listen closely an echoing voice calls out
Now watch as my arms turn into wings
Hold tight prepare for an adventure through fantasy
Higher 'n higher into heaven sky
The many sounds that surround
A breeze that breaths
Look into my eyes watch me turn into a star shooting through the sky.
Tonight something beautiful is about to begin
In a world of wonder everything comes alive.
In the corner of a small bed room, 
A sleeping child soon will hear magic. 
A picture on the wall. a battered guitar by the window
This picture is filled with visions of harmony and dreams.
That guitar is magical it works for any child that makes wish.
Outside the window a shooting star with 
the power and magic to create dreams into reality.
A gentle breeze rushes in; an angel like glow ignites the picture
A symphony of color engulfs the room.
The guitar begins to play. A gentle voice fills the air singing
Dream that dream watch 'n see 
What you have always known and wished for soon will become reality
You are the one we’ll come to know and love
I know you’ve been abused it’s in your eyes
It’s alright to cry open up let the emotions soar
You are the star, climb the sky show the truth to the world
Show them what you can do, we have seen you do it and we know
You’ve been hidden from so many, a child so gifted and beautiful. 
That little voice you keep hearing is you guiding you along 
There are no boundaries for you and I in life.
Dream that dream keep creating
Watch and see what you have always known and wished for soon will be reality

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Artist Chagall once said,
harsh and heavy was the colour red;
For Marc,colour,sensations bred-
Blue,so spiritual and male
Yellow,bright,sensual and female.

Tribute to Marc Chagall's art

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Can We Be Friends?

Why are you acting so bold towards me?
I thought we could end up being friends.
I didn’t realize that my actions towards you would cause our friendship to end.

In the moments that existed before hand,
I assumed it was the right thing to do.
But now in the moments afterwards,
I blame myself for walking away from you.

I mean at least I could have stood there,
And waited for you to plead your case.
But see that’s my point exactly.
I was already too ashamed to look you straight in the face.

There’s two roads that were my options to take.
One which I would have taken alone.
Unfortunately, there’s the one that I chose,
And on that road I felt I didn’t belong.

The 1st one would have been happy in the beginning, but soon I would feel by myself in the 
I would ask myself on the days that he didn’t come home,
What is he doing in the streets and who is he doing it with?

On the road that I decided to walk upon,
It was my duty to tell you how I felt.
But I didn’t acknowledge to myself that by telling you this,
It would cause your smile and my heart to melt.

I knew that I had to tell you…
…because I felt I was cramping your style.
I had to find out who I was by leaving you alone for a while.

The thought of us being together…
…in your life I felt I had no place.
Truly deep down in my heart I knew I was smothering you so I had to give you some space.

I constantly sat there waiting…
For you…is who I missed.
But I was tired of looking stupid,
For someone who left me clueless.

I’m not upset at the fact that you didn’t like me,
But by the way you couldn’t say it.
I promise you that I would have left you alone,
Then the lust for you would have faded.

But even if you did feel the same,
I admire you for not wanting to play with my head.
We both know that a possibility of us was less than likely,
That’s why it’s impossible for me to feel sad.

So I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.
What I feel for you would probably never die.
I would stop in my tracks to say hello…
…To you, my friend, as you are passing by.

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vignette-secrets sights and sounds

Beckmann's 'secrets' whispered loud
In Nolde, 'the spiritual' bowed
Kirchner saw a 'vision'-
Kandinsky,'sounds' he could not see
As Klee painted 'poetry' *

Tribute to the Expressinists

* Example of Klee's

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Unconditional Selfless Love

Unconditional Selfless Love

Encourages, uplifts, forgives, and bestows.
Good gifts of the soul expect no personal rewards.
These gifts are “heart-gifts”.  
The gifts of love and kindness
Given to me by you, Poetry Soup Poets
Made my hospitalization pass quickly.
You cheered me up 
And helped me recover more quickly.
Love like this is pure and selfless.  
It exemplifies how much love is possible between hearts.
It is the first joy of wonderful friendships,
It exemplifies an individual step to world peace.
“Heart gifts” are love, freely shared with others.  
During my hip replacement surgery your love, prayers, phone calls, and poems, 
Demonstrated great love for me, your fellow human…. 
Hospital staff noticed and commented upon such an outpouring of care and love.
(I of course knew that it is because poets have good hearts and we on the soup love one 
another and share kindnesses… always….)  
Thus your love brought joy not only to me, 
But to others who witnessed your kind ways, too.
In the past, I have said world peace comes one heart at a time.
And you, my poetry soup poet friends, understand and exemplify love “one heart at a time.”  
Thank you, my loving friends for your prayers, mail, calls, poems and good wishes that 
brought me more joy than you could ever imagine.  Thank you for being there for me.  I am 
home!!!  Miracles happen and I am on my way to a blessed and speedy recovery.  I am filled 
with joy from your kindness.  Your love is reflecting from within me.  Thank you.  Lovingly, 
Dane Ann

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You Are My Curse

I had to let it all go,
The day and night,
Their hours ran too slow.
It was more than just a fight.
I trusted you and knew you,
My love succumbed to the worst,
Faith and loyalty just wouldn’t do.
You became my curse.
I was pulled down to Earth’s plane,
And judgment did set in.
Then new days begin.
I stood parallel as many went insane.
My heart drenched and my soul crunched,
I couldn’t let my heart take this very much.
I died and I died losing each endless breath,
I swallowed the victory and ate your death.
You reaped and I sowed,
But I saw no one grow,
Not even you.
What was I to do?
I let it go very slow,
Now I am all grown,
And I’m on my own.
I died watching you go.
I will always remember begging mercy,
I will always know this pain,
You are my curse you see,
And nothing did you gain.
I can never just be alright,
I can never love you the same again.
I died watching you go out of sight.
You are my curse and forever in my heart you made an end.

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Thanx for the Welcome

Hey, thanks a heavy bunch for the welcome
Hey, thanks a larger lot for the welcome

My heart is duly enthralled
My mind has been positively stirred

Two days ago I had a lot on my mind
Now ‘coz of y’all, here I exist in delight

Heaven must be missing quite a number of angels
For what I read on my screen can’t be wordings of ordinary mortals

For now I don’t need heaven
For I have found myself a haven full of the soup I need to get well

A brick at a time, each with purity and love in mind
I’m certain this shrine full of wonder will rise to shine

Such are the blessings of men and women of initiative
Offering poets like me and you the mortar to build our dreams into reality

My heart fills with gratitude, tonnes of it in advance
For the doors of opportunity I’m certain to unearth, in this shelter of dreams

The beginning might be a tad bit rocky
But please bear with me as I drift off my ecstasy to clarity, as consequential of this 
new discovery

I promise to soon find my bearings
And flow at ease like a new Lamborghini on these sleek streets of many dreams

In the meantime don’t mind if sometimes I blurt
For a new soup like this always tastes so sweet, makes one reveal what he was 
meant to keep

Thanks indeed for allowing me to be a part of you
Allow me to advertise to others that you and I on Poetry Soup too

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I have much to be thankful for

The sun comes up and the sky is so blue.
Still, I’m uncertain of what it is I should do.
I awake to realize I have much to be thankful for.
I open my eyes and my heart for what is in store.

Some days I get lost and don’t know what to go.
Sometimes it feels like any way the wind blows.
I seem to do better with the friends that care.
They make me see that they shall always be there.

When I get sad and feel quite alone,
They offer my heart a place to call home.
Though I feel lost I seem to get better.
Like when the rain falls, I only get wetter.

I usually have troubles with this time of year.
I remember the people that I hold so dear.
Last night I received a call and had to smile.
Today I shall rest and take care for a while.

I don’t always understand why I do what I do.
I just follow my heart and these feelings are true.
I hope for things to get better and look for a source.
I just need to find a way to get back on course.

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A painting a day for ten weeks
Each different, unique-
In this flurry of work
Blur of despair,Vincent did depart,
Before pointing a gun to his heart

These 70+ paintings + (aptly) yellow flowers bedecked his death-bed scene.

An inadequate tribute to a genious and misunderstood man

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For my children

I remember my pregnancy with you 
I fell in love with your every move, and with the sound of your beating heart. 
I held your precious body in my arms for the first time and took in your sweet, angelic presence. 
Nothing could prepare me for what would lie ahead. 
Nothing could prevent my heart from breaking, but it had to be done. 
I tried to be strong, but my strength failed me. 
I never knew it would be so difficult to write my own name. 
I cried, and was grateful for all the precious memories you've given me. 
It was a new beginning for you. 
The healing was beginning for me. 
Time went forward, I learned and grew as I slowly let go of you. 
My heart was healed, my life was blessed and my prayers were answered. 
Still, there's days when I cry. 
I will never stop thinking about you. 
Still I wonder about the person you are now, and the person you've yet to become. 
I pray that you will always know of the love I have for you. 
It's only through the grace of God that you were mine for a time. 
He gave you to me, I lovingly obeyed his plans for you. 

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For What It is 2

He knows that her heart belongs to him, 
not because he desires it, 
but because she gives it to him freely.

She offers herself unto him,
knowing he would do her no harm.

He returns his love with his gentleness.
He doesn't leave when its over. 

She not a notch on his belt. 
It's not for his satisfaction, but for hers
and what she desires.

He stays with her because 
he has nowhere else 
he would rather be
than to stay be her side.

Not for another round, 
but because he loves her.
His heart belongs to her.

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                            Pristine shores, their past erased by tidal grasp
                         Summer days, diamond sand and burning solarays
                    Observant camera eyes retrieve...photographic memories
                                        Sleepless nights, city scapes, 
               Its tourists' sights from vantage heights until daybreak
      City nights, secret rites, which darkness keeps,some cities never sleep
  Souvenir photographs telltale of passions veiled by distance strangers keep
           Enticed, foreign tourists reap culture shock and natives... paradise
                                Multi-culture, t.v. hype and nostalgic tales
                    Cheap sex and narcotics, black market products sales
                                  Gather souvenirs inexpensive and rare
               Day travel here and there, no tourist sight unspared
Tried and true, even old world culture is new,  remaining modern cultural affair 
             On an ocean shore jewel lights invite, which no one dare ignore
                              Earth's grand wonder...the city by  the shore

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It's not until you've tried, you live!

I use to think you’d call or stop by
I use to believe nothing could keep us apart
I always thought you’d be around
I knew my life with you would last
I depended on you needing me

Now you don’t even call me
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
You put something on me for a thousand life times
Something part of me wishes it never have. love
Though better to have love than not love at all
My heart can’t see passed the pain
Its eyes are cluttered by hurt, fear, desire and pain
Nonetheless, my love grows like a tree with bent limbs
But, my mind knows it’s better to have tried 
Because it’s not until you try that you live!

I long to live through your eyes
I need to live through your cries
I strive to live for you
I use pride to hide my deepest fears
I dare not tell anyone how I really feel

It’s because of you I know how to live
It’s because of the time with you, I’m still here
I never experience real pain until you left
In my mind you’re still here
That day part of me left with you
I still see your shadow, still smell your scent
I’m still reaching out to that gracious part of you
Fighting, broken in pieces 
Part of me wishes I never met you
The other part thanks you
For reminding me
It’s not until you try that you live!

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she's a painter
he's a poet
the potter takes his
clay and throws it
turning mere dirt
to a thing of desire

© Goode Guy 2011-12-29

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'Window Dressing (or) Mannequin Lessons

She had Velvet eyes, Satin lips
Silk skin … Seamless hips

Threaded her way into his heart
and Stitched his mind up Tight
But the Needle Point, was coming
Pricking… with all its might! …

… Posed her Textile-smile
Watched Fabric – flow
All the Lycra-while
Sticking Velcro …

and Ribbons and Bow
… he didn’t know
she was only after
Every Scrap of his Taffeta

He thought she was quite fetching
… didn’t know, she was just Window-Dressing

‘can’t hold the Cushion, when Pins, Push and Shove
a man, can’t live on just a Thimble-full of love! …
… can’t move the heart of a Mannequin
…  your living doll is running around, again …
… Window Dressing …

He was an honest man
nothing up his Sleeve
but, he had a gold-band
said, ‘Honey, Marry Me…’

… and he Wrapped her in Furs
Draped her in jewels
Lots of Cashmere
… she left empty Spools

She took his Tape Measure
and Material Cut
kept Sharp Scissors
for her Designs … but

… He’d seen the Hem Ironed
and Sew and Sew
He knew the Pattern
and which Embroidery to go…

… the last Fringe turn
and which Bolt to throw …

She sat in front of a Vanity
brushing her Gossamer hair
Basting in her Veiled beauty
like no Wool was there …

… to see her Window Dressing
To see him Yard-Catching
the Collar and Cuffs …
… He’d seen enough !

He saw them thru the Window
Zipper and Buttons undone
He had to stop the Fashion Show …
… then he dropped his _ _ _

… Velvet eyes, Satin lips
Silk skin… Seamless hips
Threaded her way into his heart
And Stitched his mind up Tight

… but the Needle Point came Darning
Pricking, with all its might …

…’Cause you can’t move the heart of a Mannequin
but your living doll won’t be running around again …

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Summer Tale

Daytime,sunshine...crystal clear
burning through clear blue atmosphere
Tanning laserays of light
Ignite solar candled lantern aisles by night

Silent meadows and sheep grazed pastures bare
Summer's yield matching colors grown in pairs
Travelers' eyes steal glimpses of the ancient surreal
Clever celestial timing ,ensures summer's perfect weather

Past summers remembered
My skin sunburned tender
Its old age hastened ,its healing's slow,yet I've patience
Horizon gaze ,wading shallow shore waves
cold and curing,my sunburn tamed
Sand impressions proof of my presence
Vanishes as saltwater tides retreat
Forming rythmic swells, cleansing sand,fine as snow,each grain unique 
Potential their essence
Each memory ,an impassionate impression
Resolves imaginitive questions
Sacred memories remain life's essence

An unresisted inclination to explore
its endless trails is ignored
by wiser travelers who retire near crossroad trails
each day's passage,treasured memory for nostalgic tales

Blond sunlight through graying skies pale 
Dark as dusk,sunlight's cloaked in an expanding veil
As distant thunder grew near,cooling air held an odor of ionized rain
As electrical glimmers lit skies dark as eve which shadowed verdant plains

Camera eyes skygazing dusk to morn
Canvas skylight's color transformed
Night darkness followed ,silence filled this vast woods hollow
Heaven's light shone pale through eve's black veil
Pearl moonbeams and crystal starlight invite
Passage through dark meadow trails
An ancient summer tale ,
Eyes photographed evenings past

As morning passed
Harsh molten light shone through thinning cloud mass
Burning fine white sand ,each glass

Verdant flowerfields ,summer's pretty yield 
Camera eyes steal as autumn's shades are revealed

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The Journey Of The Last Goodbye

on June 5.  © Theresa, All rights reserved 

So, the sun has set
My heart is full of pebbles now
Little souvenirs of a beautiful trip
But just as surely
As the foam washes away the castles we built
And the names we left
Entwined, hopeful
That they would not be erased
We both say an unspoken farewell

And as the skies,which once were our lovers canopy
Give way to night
I begin a solitary journey
Back to where I once could breath
But breathing without you is like dying
The butterflies of fools have flown
Moths settle in their place
Ugly black moths
I feel them feasting, upon the remains

Of our beautiful summer picnic
The tiny holes merge, into one great void
Where once I cherished you

The fragments of promises trickle onto the shore
Grains of dust, crumbs of joy
Leave a trail behind me
Could I follow it back, should I follow it back
Try to find you again?
My steps falter, I turn, hopeful
But you are just a speck now
On the horizon, where only dreams belong
So I wave instead 
And as you disappear from sight
My insides weep, like grieving mothers

I gather up the hopes and dreams and wishes
The fragments of my soul
Which are sobbing like infants in the sand
And I hold them. try to comfort them 
hold myself, tight so tight
Try to keep my world from collapsing
Lest the carnage becomes my sanctuary

And into the suitcase of life
That once you helped me carry
I place the laughter, which tinkles
Like childhood forgotten
The anger, because once it ignited the fire
Of I'm sorry, I love you, lets make up
The dreams, because I will need them someday
 My heart for It still must beat, 

Even though you have the final piece

I wrap them carefully, like antique lace
In layer upon beautiful layer
Of tissue paper pain
The castles are no more now
And so I begin
The journey of the last goodbye.......

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Do I Deserve A Chance?

Look at me and tell
Humble down before you I stand
Ready and waiting for you
Been there when waters were high
Carried you burden down
So I deserve a Chance

I deserve the chance
To hold you, comfort you, console you
To make love to you
Stand by you deal with you
Be with you
I deserve the chance
To experience you head to foot
Inside and out
I deserve a chance

I deserve a chance
To care for you, nurture you, and serve
I deserve a chance with you
I deserve to watch you wake up daily
Make memories of you while you sleep
Think about you all day
I deserve a chance to smell your scent on my pillow
Smile when I fold your clothes
In constant reminder of you
I deserve a chance to wake up in your arms
To shower in your sorrows
Become apart of your destiny
So allow me, the chance
Because I deserve YOU!

I deserve a chance to give you all of me
Good and bad
Spread my boyish charm into your life
Stand by your side through life
I deserve a chance to love you like nothingness 
Until the air stops creeping through my lungs
I deserve the chance to experience you in ways like none other
Virgin style, no worries
Flesh in flesh, Heart to heart
I deserve a chance with you

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A great artist was Sofonisba
Due to her her enlightened pa-
A court painter to a king
Throughout Europe her fame did wing-
So now her praise to you I sing

Tribute to Sonfoniba Anguissda 1532-1625 an acquaintance of Michelangelo and Vn Dyck

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Witty Will from London town
With his art acted the clown
They said he could not paint flesh or blood-
His 'Shrimp Girl' disproves this lie
When he gave portraiture a try.

Tribute-William Hogarth 1687-1764

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Life's Tapestry

My life has been a Tapestry
Woven of Thick and Thin.
Friends and Lovers and Children
All are threaded in.

Some Darks and a little Happiness
With some Highlights and some Lows
Some Accomplishments and Trials
My core Elements from where I began.

My life has the many Textures 
Of a Life that’s been well lived
And I wouldn’t want my Tapestry 
To look any other way.

I love the way that it’s turned out
The many Colors and Styles 
That make up Me
Are all contained within.

Copyright Christine A Kysely November 10, 2010

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved 

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Ode to Vincent van Gogh


This is the time of the year
When I see the ravens and the crows
Especially in an open field...
It's when I think of you…

I catch myself remembering…
I have to stop myself and breathe…
I daydream of our starry nights
I think of the ravens and the crows…
I think about your untimely plight
I wonder if you ever felt like me
If you ever felt my presence near you
And I wonder now….wherever you are
If you ever missed me too.

Could you have ever imagined
Could you have possibly known 
That I’d still be thinking of you
Missing you...
After more than one long century.

It’s only been a hundred years or so
Since you severed off your ear
Since you shot yourself
Since you killed yourself
Since you shortened all your years.

If I had been there and loved you
Could I have saved you from yourself
Would it have made a difference
Or would everything have turned out the same
Would we both still be feeling lonely
Would you still be thought insane?

I did love you Vincent
I  just could never let it show
I didn’t know how to tell you
Back before these 100 years
I just kept hoping 
that somehow you would know.

Whenever I am in Chicago
I visit the Art Institute and sigh
As I gaze upon your starry skies
I stand before your paintings in wonder
And look deep within your eyes.

I always have to ponder
If you painted thinking of me
I know that you always knew
That I loved your greens and vibrant blues
I see that you tried to show me
How the stars reflected you in my eyes
I see the colors that you have chosen
Have always revealed your truth.

When I see your painting 
Of the ravens and the crows
I know that you remembered
How the sky that day looked too
How it felt to have autumn ending
And winter closing in
How wonderful that day was
How happy we had been.

The last time we were together
Everything seemed so right and true
I had no idea
Your heart had turned so blue.
Your feelings always hidden
You never said a word
How things would tragically end
There never was a clue.

So now I stand here after 100 years
I still miss you Vincent.
I really, really do.
I wonder if you are thinking of me
And if you are happy or if you are blue.

(November 16, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,

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The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.

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Rage of Sauron

      With a honey-tongue and heart of gall
      A coiled serpent poised to strike
      Beneath his speech and quiet ways
      A beguiling dagger hidden close
      With fell deeds and a heart of hate
      A mind of metal, a soul of steel
      Poisoned words, venom sweet
      Illusions are not often real

      Tongue submissive, spirit bold
      Dark as a secret left untold
      A greater lord, a greater thane
      Who shall be ruler once again

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sweating inspiration

as I am here this warm evening
pressing the microphone button 
on my smart phone 
John Quincy Adams sits beside me 
at his congressional desk 
while Thomas Edison is sitting nearby
at a bench in Menlo Park and 
Archimedes is lounging 
down the hall in his bath 

none of them are visibly 
perturbed, nor exhibit
obvious genius as they are 
creating the finer 
points of civilization 
for the greater good

while all I can do is 
speak at my phone 
which flashes lines of ads 
about free online games 
and sites of single Asian women 
as I sweat to create

it's enough to consider
going to a libation establishment
and saying "hey barkeep,
give me a wallbanger
and an inspiration
with a twist"

© Goode Guy 2012-05-19

Genius is one percent inspiration, 
ninety-nine percent perspiration. - Thomas Edison

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Catalan moderniste
Or Art Nouveau catalyst
Extravagent and ornate-
Fantastic,eclectic & surreal
Sculpture,gardens & cathedral

Antoni Gaudi (1853-1926)Spanish archtect-neo baroque

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for lexi

quick witted 
like the child her mother was
i miss that child 
but adore the butterfly she has become
she will be more 
than we all imagine
if we let her be
just as her mother 
and her grandmother and great grandmother were and are
but we come from a line of struggle
of will and wellness
of dreams and wants
of can be and will be
she smiles
and my heart is as full as it can be
she treats me like a playmate
and i wouldn't have it any other way
i love her and her mother
as much as my heart will allow
as much as there is room for
as if they were my own

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Illyanna's Dark Poetry

I wish people would quit picking on my sister. She is a wonderful writer and I know her
work is dark and creepy but that is who she is. She writes to entertain and to take you
places that make you uncomfortable. If you read her poems and you get the chills she has
done what she set out to do! If it creeps you out to much then when you see the name
Illyanna De La Keur then don't read it. This is a place where we all can demonstrate our
creativity and I would hate for her to remove her work and quit writing. Illyanna is a
writer that is an acquired taste and if not for her and my other sister I would never have
explored my own talent so please lay off on telling her to change her subject matter.

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Heart void lost love
yearning what was
when our time was slow my heart your treasure
our passion unpoisoned by carnal pleasure
your wisdom my heart's will until my heart stills

Cherishing photographs of sacred memories
tarnished by anger selfish joy and jealousy
never tamed our passions, despite their pain

Betrayed by lust our solemn vows broken ruined our past
may our past strenghthen our future remains an unspoken task

Past photographs of forgotten moments unmemorized
our hands lovelocked embracing compromise
careful sharing sincerities seemed wise

In haste I sworn against you
yet your patient and true

Kept your distance from others never trusting their concern and vision
this bridge they dare not cross without spiritual wisdom

Kept my faith despite temptation
our shared passions...inspiration
our angered son's light woke my conscience
yet his comforting can't ease...indifference
yet two colors must  blend 
forever inseperable yearning an end  

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Genetics,kept his stature,small
'As is life' became his call
Graphic posters on city walls;
Murals,pasted,for just a while
Now,timeless.signatures his style

Th Warhol of the 1890's Hernri Toulouse Lautrec 1864-1901

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She thought that she was over you completely
but apparently her guess was so wrong,
For you she still had a lot of feelings
feelings that after all of those years still remained strong.
She married with the hopes of escaping your memory
and with the hopes that another man could take your place,
And now she finds herself still being haunted by your sweet memories
she has realized that there is not another that can take your place.
She thought about you both day and night
and she had found that her heart still missed you so,
She knew that still loving you was not right
but she found it so hard in completely letting you go.
She knew the fact that you had long ago moved on with your life
you had some how managed to start anew,
she had known deep down inside her heart as well as in the back of her mind
that there could be no way of ever replacing you.

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vignette-16TH CENTURY AB-EX

A clever painting,full of wit
On his mantle piece did sit,
No genre do they now fit-
Filling this canvas with tomes & books
A librarian,with abstract looks

The Librarian by Arcimboldo

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Hush, Baby Girl

Hush, baby girl, dont you cry 
Mama's gonna make everything alright 
Wiping all your tears away 
Holding you when you have a bad day 
You're my sweet lil' Angel-baby 
You're the only thing that kept me from going crazy

I Love you, girly, with all my heart 
Losing you would tear me apart 
So, while I have you, let me hold you 
And when you leave, never forget your home 
Come on vacation, come on weekends 
Come when you're lonely, come when you're heart broken 
My door's always open to you and so is my heart 
And as long as you think of me and I of you, we're never apart

Hush, baby girl, dont you cry 
Mama's gonna make everything alright 
Wiping all your tears away 
Holding you when you have a bad day 
Because you're my lil' Angel-baby

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Bawdy tales of dreams and secret memories
their superficial veil infused with gossip sleeze
its curious listeners deemed  pretentiously deaf to what they mean?
Absorbed in superficial greed,the auction proceeds
quick tempered and tastelessly naughty
laced in gemed jewelry,outrageously expensive and gaudy
pretty things they dare not buy
yet the material persuades the curious unwise
there true meaning hidden from naked eyes
blind from envy and superficial curiosity
its tacky admirers gossip obnoxiously

Deathly bored...animals sacrificed
the blood and gore offered to each invite
animal rights activists,morbidly disturbed
paint fake animal blood on imported furs
there inclusion in fashion's everlasting
Curious auctioners whisperly asking
if blood dyed furs and tawed thrift leather furniture
that match with pastel carpet floors
would clash with Euro imported decor

their timeless pleasures appropriate whenever adored
their presence not for charitable cause
nor gifts from philantrophists
yet obviously tawdry gifts for the senseless rich

Gold fastened embroidered silk and satin 
Euro rennassaince paintings and pottery,
jewelry made of African elephant ivory
embraced by burnished gold,diamonds and gemstones,
mined on distant planets unknown,
Carrara marble sculptures from Rome,
offering endless antiques from ancient Greece
and artifacts of ancient kings made from carnelian and lapis
obsidian,quartz and gold
Every item presented sold

Yet amidst the ancient gifts,
the artificial persuades superficial slaves
to tacky taste is careless material waist

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Do not wipe away the tears
That fall upon my face
For they are gentle reminders
A different time, a different place
My heart is still bleeding
From the wound that was left behind
It seems as though
Peace I will never find
Love and pain, sadness and joy
A contradiction in terms
So many emotions
You can live with, I have learned
You have to find the balance
Stabilize your life
For some days the sun will shine
Others will be filled with strife
Fill your heart with love
And for sorrow you can prepare
Letting you know that you are human
And even on the darkest of days
That you can still care

The End
By Greg P

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Ink dashed,paint splashed,
gaush splotched 
smeared and painted stained glass
fissured into irredescent shards reflecting clash
with bright technicolor light,its bright center
an unfertilized egg,overwhelmed by splintered
cells,chosen sperm that will grow and never tell
of wading plasma,mired in cigarrette miasma

Halogen light bleeding bright,from this distance untamed
bursts like shattering bulbs peircing wide staring eyes tamed
by dimming candle flame

Mediums tramsformed from their natural form and brillance's born
its odd subject matter framed,its message conveyed by paint splatter
its symmetry and definition enhanced by light's conture
conveys an eccentric prodigy matured

It's eve's hour,the time told by closed pedal flowers
the longer days delayed sleep
as time is forgotten,fond memories,is its creator's keep

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I just give

I think one of my strengths is I can just give,
I really don’t think ,it’s the way  that I live.
I don’t require thanks or anything in return,
Giving brings happiness, that’s what I yearn.

Many times I  do things that people don’t understand.
Sometimes it makes me wonder just who I am.
Following your heart always comes with a price.
Some of the responses are not really nice.

I would change my ways if I only could.
I just think it is something that’s good.
Today something happened that makes me sad,
When you give of your heart you shouldn’t feel bad.

I think to myself what is the lesson to learn.
The pathway is closed and the bridges burn.
I just have to try and let it all go
Maybe tomorrow the sun shall show.

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Don't Close Your Eyes (2005)

Sometimes we play dead but every time is a shock 
My heart chokes and my head rocks
Do you want me to die?
Don’t close your eyes
Living without you is not a joke 
My heart would pour and the my world will die and soak 

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The Perfect Hand (John&Kelly)

More than a game, it was a heart from 
  a royal flush. I saw her every flaw which
told me her true hand. A slight twitch 
  in her eye told the bluff, as she tugs 
her earlobe and raises the stakes. I call
  her on the hand that would send her to
bankruptcy. She reveals a straight flush. I glance
  over my fool's hand and fold. It was only 
one heart away from a royal flush....At least
  thats what I tell my wife.

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That you continue to draw breath matters to me.
Every time that your heart beats
It means something to me.
Why is it that those things
That you most want and crave from life,
Are those things that you refuse to see.
It's time to take the self-imposed blinders
That keep you feeling sheltered, lonely, and desperate
Off and purposefully see what is really around you!
If you are unwilling to let it matter to you-
That you matter to me,
It is of no value, use, or purpose
That I continue to draw breath or
That my heart continues to beat
For to you, it is as if neither even exist.

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Jack P1

Staring down at the pavement beneath my feet, 
shoelace has loosen from the knot on my left shoe; 
draping close to my ankle, as it pauses on the floor. 
Gritty, re-cemented road, older than the school that is the pathway to and from it. 
My ass just sits on the sidewalk, my back hunched over and my head facing down; 
for my eyes are in no mood to view the sky.

"''s just..."

I hear her voice play over inside my mind, 
hoping my thoughts will not form visions to the sounds.

"'s just not working."

...but I hope for too much.

I close my eyes and I see her in the hallway opening her locker, 
trying to cover her face from mine.

"We're just both different, I mean...I can't understand what we are about anymore you know?"

I just stare at her blankly...
trying hard to be stupid to not understand a single word that is coming out of her mouth;
it's easy to dumb down your mind depending on what type of person you are,
but the heart was never a good participant in that category.

"I mean I thought I liked you-" 
she closes her red locker with the decorated stickers of flowers I gave her last year; 
not plain flat stickers, but the ones that are three dimensional and fuzzy, 
some are even scented. These are not scented though...those cost too much.
I just watch her talk, I just watch her talk, just watch her talk, talk and talk.
The beats of my heart seem to be losing the steady rhythm it had when I first saw her today.
The rhythm of excitement and happiness that was blended together, 
is now falling apart and turning into indescribable anguish. 

I really want her to stop moving her mouth, I stopped listening after " I thought I liked

"I'm sorry Jack...but it's over...we have to break up, we're not in sync anymore...
you understand...right?"

It felt as if I was made of a unmovable material, 
cause my body felt such a force of heaviness once it dawned upon me 
what just happened here. My arm slowly raised with my hand, 
holding the drawing I drew today in art class. She stood there for a moment 
trying to review what is was 'till I shoved it into her frame.

"Here." I said

"Your such a waste of time." 

And I walked away from the place I used to walk her to everyday, for the past 425day.
I walked away from the place when I first saw her dropped her pencil and I picked it up
for her,
and she smiled delinquently for it, for she felt it was a such a kind act.
I walked away from the girl that I gave my heart to for 431days out of those 425.

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vignette-OVER & OVER AGAIN

He lived life along a waterway
In the town of Givernay
Inspired by his belved Seine
A garden series made his name-
Abstract impressions,his lasting fame

Tribute to Monet and his persistence in painting the same scenes in diiffering light

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This dusty rocking chair hidden for, at least, two decades
in a corner of the dark attic, where a white-haired man
used to sit in and rock himself to sleep, cuddled in a wool blanket:
can tell many how and when it was made
by that cigar-smoking grandfather of yours...

It just lay there picking up much space,
silently abandoned and not needed by anyone to lay back and gaze; 
so ignored were the mastery and love that took in making it;
when I heard him stump on the long stairs,
sunshine filtered through, the unwashed window, to engage his wit....

Curious boy, staring at me with awe, you should know
that I originated from a timber forest too dense;
and the hard and thick wood was cut down by a sharp saw: 
bought in the quite borough of Queens, 
to be worked on by very rough hands:
with the intention of creating charm and  elegance...

Take a soft rag and some furniture polish from the tiny closet,
and bring me back to the previous life of my self-importance:
my luster lasted only for fifty prosperous years,
then suddenly I was put away to face darkness;
and I longed for someone who could listen with interest,
and keep me company to forget my wretchedness... 

Sympathetic boy, as I speak, write down this worth-telling story, 
in your brand-new composition book with an interesting essay:  
to let others know that I was a jewel that dazzled from all four corners;
when Americans fall again on hard and unacceptable times,
they can look it up to be comforted and be told how to cope with their woes,
or even how to see their hardship and deprivation a momentary demise...  

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Wedded to the past

Wedded to the past

The iconography of childhood gives more vivid memories,
like an inward looking that draws to depth and human connections;
those relationships with family members, friends, and relations
the best of times and known to be the memorable years gone by.

To stir the pot and get myself riled up about human depth –
in many areas of concern and struggles to cope with life,
a culture of love gets developed and rolls through the years;
a dependable compass, an anchor that assures great strength.

It’s the habit of my mind and heart that keeps me growing
immersing constantly in the ordinariness of my routines;
form certain messages that shape my choices and decisions;
elsewhere in the context that brings me to embrace what life really is.

Perhaps it’s good to connect the wisdom of the past to present situation;
there’s complimentarity of actions with vision and interior inspiration
yes, with sense of connection and willingness to proclamation;
God, indeed, makes the experience worth thinking and sharing.

The crucible of commitment to the values of God’s kingdom,
reflects my interior disposition to enhance them through actions;
with endless thinking, meditating and ruminating the Sacred Scriptures,
can crown the heart that speaks volumes about dedication to my vocation.

There’s still the umbilical cord of my calling since childhood,
the ‘yes’ to God, the source and author of my priestly life;
with a great deal about ‘how I live and live out of my love,
like a climate change, a moral wavelength wedded to my calling.

Truly, it’s a never ending affair with God in many contexts,
amid the advancing forces of secularism and modernity;
not an easy world to live with; a real challenge with strident voices,
with so many meanings and understandings as life unfolds.

To find the language which describes mobility in my spirituality,
a point in time which braces for my daily encounter with God;
his mysterious signs and wonders that make me walk with him,
in worship and service to Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.

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this is love

A boy sees a girl
As their eyes meet, his naive heart begin to flutter  
A smile brightens her face, showing her full beauty
As the boy tucks his head in embarrassment, he pauses
Looking up at the girl he knows
He knows she will be something special in his life

A girl sees a boy
As their eyes meet, her fragile heart flutters
Her mind warns her of his reputation,
While her heart forces her to bear a smile
As her face turns red she pauses
Looking at this boy she knew
She knew there was something about him…

Now a man sees a woman
As their eyes meet, both lean in for another kiss
Their faces bear smiles, showing their happiness
As they both turn to walk away, they pause
Looking back at each other they realize…
This once shy boy and this once scared girl…
 Suddenly they know…..this is love!

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Shades Of Smoke

Ten Feet From The Floor
No Disturbances From Here
Air Escapes With Each Breath
Awaiting The Smoke To Clear
The Bitter Aftertaste
Of A Martyr In Disguise
Just The Cause And Effect
Bleeding In Their Eyes

A Subtle Collapse Of Reason
Bearing Its Ugly Face
The Smokes Still Clearing
Drifting To Another Place
Shall We Soon Follow
Sifting Through In Shades
Disappear Into Nothing
As The Essence Fades

The View Is Lost
And The Shades Have Sleeved
A Mere Disappearing Act
To The Eyes That Believed
Sudden Shades Of Smoke
Filter In The Distance
They All Endure Coming Down
And Exit To Existence

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Fallen Hero

No man could clarify my pain into one single solitary word
when your hero falls whats there to feel but hurt
such a strong indivual unable to be knocked off their feet
never knowing the definition of lose, now openly admitting defeat
what happened to that strong determined person i had grown to admire
to hear you have fallen from the post of hero from which you have chosen to retire
as you fell from the pedastal i placed you on
i realised my character of admiration wasn't as strong
as the illusion of a person i built my life on
you were the template i drew my life from not what do i do
i'm half way through that drawing so do i finish it and fail like you
before your spirit weakened and your pride collapsed you were all i wanted to be
but now i see you for what you truly are, thats not what i want for me
how can somebody so true, be so free to abondon their honesty
you used to be so kind, noble, helpfull, showing nothing but modesty
you were there to show a better side to the world outdoors 
never taking anything from others but now your taking a great deal more
you were a best friend a honest soul a shoulder to cry on
a solid post an open ear, a person to rely on
now your just an empty room, the bed on which i die on
you used to be an open mind i felt free to talk to
now you have chosen in my words the wrong woods to walk through
how do i tell you exactly how i feel
you know the worlds a dangerous place why let them steal
the one thing that seperates you from us, your precious loving soul
why dont you attack a situation with nothing but your all
you always put your heart before everything including wealth
you haven't just let down the world you've let down your self

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Dark Kiss

Another day another night without you there is no light
 Your heart is full your soul is bright 
Clear the path break the night
 Turn the page of this story told
Of a man and a women who never grow old
 Break the curse that binds the night
Or take me now without a fight
 Your heart is cold your eyes are night
Hold me now hold me tight
 Take the blood within my veins make us now one of the same
You are my angel within my soul for now I to will never grow old
 Together forever we shall be
Darkness without light you and me
 Another day another night
No more day 
 Just night

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Classical Guitarist

You perch on a low stool
of my presence unmindful, 
guitar cradled on your lap,
fingers each string loving.

While you delicately pluck, 
mesmerizing, hypnotizing,
with slow, flowing arpeggio,
my heartstring you touch.

Who are you to affect me so, 
just what kind of magic spell
you put me helplessly under?

'Moonlight Sonata' on tremolo,
'Gone With The Wind', play!
'Chariots of  Fire' galloping
right deep inside my brain.

As the night comes to a close
you make me desire for more -
seduced, intrigued and raised
to the clouds to stay right there.

A guitar you turn into a slave
to touch a chord in the soul.

  (Inspired by Liona Boyd)

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My Deepest Fear

My deepest fear is knowing one day you'd 
leave me
Letting you go on Sunday evenings

Saying goodbye or good night without you
next to me

My deepest fear is not being able to kiss
you goodnight 

Hearing your heart beat when you're asleep
Feel your touch; the warmth from your body

My deepest fear is knowing one day you want
even think of me

Is that I'll only be the guy that used to be
Knowing the love you put on me will never 
be close to me again

Waking up, going to sleep, living & dieing
without me

That's my deepest fear; I am already
missing you & your still here

My deepest fear is life without you...

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Lucky Man

An oopsie in the shower
between him and her,
left the little stick
with a new little wonder.

A baby on the way
is a scary, scary thing,
a new dad he will become,
to a bouncing Amick baby.

A new life for them
with mine, yours, and now ours,
two kids and a dog
and their new little daughter.

Tatum Michelle Amick
is a lucky little girl,
for she has my best friend
as the best daddy in the world.

Coming home to chaos,
her siblings and a dog,
growing up will be fun
with daddy by her side.

With lots of support around him
and freely flowing love,
Jeremy is a lucky man
to have three kids and a dog.

But the strength to make it through,
every single day,
will come from another, 
For, I’m sure, Tara knows the way.

Although my heart is saddened
because my best friend he is no more,
His heart has finally found
his wonderful significant other.

For Tara has stolen his heart
and her kids have declared him theirs,
Tatum now joins the circle,
Of a very lucky man.

Jeremy Wayne Amick,
Who I’ve known since 6th grade,
Congratulations are in order,
To my very best friend.

This is for Tara,
Whom I’ve never even met,
Take good care of Jeremy,
‘Cause he’s a man that need lots of help!

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The lovely Bella was his muse
Inspiraion all would choose
Dying too soon,Marc through tears & sighs
This epitaph added in her book
'The darkness gathers before my eyes'

Bella(Marc Chagall's wife)died of a mysterious viral infection in 1944

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The Night of the Moon

It's the night of the moon
and though it's not in my sight.
The magic will be here soon.
The full moon takes the stage tonight.

I feel as low as the tide. 
The dark clouds set the tone.
Watching waves and sand collide.
I walk the beach all alone.

The clouds are fighting the sun.
They can't keep the bright light behind.
Sunset and beauty become one.
Doubt and hope crowd my mind.

Brilliant hues of orange,pink,and red
contrasting with clouds dark and gray
The sun paints a picture before bed
and then takes the painting away.

Splashing way out there in the sea.
Winking stars playfully laughing out loud.
I wonder,how this can be?
The night wont carry a cloud.

Where have all the clouds gone?
They've been plucked out of the sky.
The battle with the sun was been won.
I question not how, only why?

There's a bright glow in the west.
The curtain goes up for the show.
Dancing lights on the water are next.
Slowly rising the moon seems to grow.

Sometimes it's such a spiritual thing.
When nature reveals what it can truly do.
I can almost hear this moon sing.
So extravagant, it must be alive too.

My memory goes back to a time.
When the moon stole the show like this. 
I was with a girl that was so fine
and remembered that,that night we kissed.

But my memories are what had me down. 
I can't remember too many good.
There was the clouds at sundown
and suddenly I understood.

If I only kept good thoughts in my minds eye
and make all the bad ones just finish.
Maybe then my thoughts wont seem to magnify
what my memory can't seem to diminish.

Out with the bad thoughts in with the new. 
I'll fill my head with good memories only. 
But it seems that there are so few
that my thoughts might just get lonely.

That makes a smile come to my lips
and I wonder, did I just laugh out loud?
I watch enchanted as the moon slips
across the sky without a cloud.

My mood has changed I realize.
I knew I felt that pull.
Now I know hope never dies.
Hope lives in a moon this full.

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Thus Salvation

During the dawn of Salvation
Praise the Lord, please
Do not be late
Fore the hands'
Of the Lord,
Is exactly why we wait
For Heavens' sake
Thy gates' will brake and
To transcend  the bound
Of inequity and
Dare to set me free
First, there are other things'
That last eternally
Truth and Salvation
Fore that is the key
But first,
The Lord shall carry thee
Where there is a Will
A will to be free
Thus take me home
Among family


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Plus One

Understanding is what we don’t have
Communication is what we lack
But when I tell you how I feel
You ignore me, and turn your back

What is, how is, why is, who is?
This idea of who you want
Whatever Whenever, however
Your idea is me, plus one!

I took the liberty of understanding
What kind of relationship we have
You want me as balance, the good
But what you desire is the bad
There is no need to tell me
What you’re really thinking
I can read between the lines
Six months of knowing me & you’re still not mine

What is, how is, why is, who is?
This idea of who you want.
Whatever Whenever, however
Your idea is me, plus one!

I’ll get what I deserve either way
When the clock strikes my time
Keep acting crazy, theirs nothing left to say
Be gone before I finish my last line
It's finished, we’re through, and I’m done
With the love I had for you

What is, how is, why is, who is?
This idea of who you want
Whatever, whenever, however
Your idea was me, plus one

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Sitting in my room I sigh
‘What kind of life is this?’
A supernatural song fills my mind
Suddenly I'm not alone
An angel stands before me

Words are useless
And thought are gone
One idea is left
Where this was coming from I do not know
But I obey

My mouth opens
And out flow words and notes not of my knowledge
The song continues
Though there is no music

Abruptly the lyrics stop their movement
The angel steps forward
And I fall on my knees

He touches my head and smiles
'This is God's gift
Use it to its fullest'

My head falls and I sob
'My lips are unclean
My heart is impure
I am unholy'

The angels lifts my face
He touches my lips and my heart
'You are clean
You are pure
You are holy'

Tears fill my eyes
And a lump forms in my throat

Words are unused

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Forgive Us Lord, We Never Learn !


The old man sat there waiting, he knew this day would come.
   Accused for crimes he hadn’t done, because simply he’d been a bum.
The life he had led while on the streets, he lived as best he could.
   He had heard the shots he’d seen him fall, he only wanted to help as any 
decent man would.
Laying there beside the dying man, lay the shooters gun.
   He picked it up not even knowing what he had just now done.
He had sealed his fate for helping someone, how ironic don’t you see.
   He was tried in an honest court, by honest men, but still he was found guilty.
The judge came back and sentenced him, and with his closing words he said, 
may the Lord have mercy on your soul.
   And with the sentence handed him, death would be the final goal.
Stunned, shocked, and angry too, he said Lord what did I do?
   A feeling of calm came over him, as a voice inside his head, said I know I’ve 
been there too.
Forgive them the voice it said, forgive them for they still know not what they do.
   As they strapped him down and started the drugs, he whispered Lord I do, I 
forgive them too.
Well, what have we learned since our Saviors death?
    And, the forgiveness in His heart, as he breathed His final breath.
Kind of like the same old song with different words and rhymes.
   The only thing that has seemed to have changed is the settings and the times.
Sometimes let your heart be the judge and not your foolish eyes.
   Sometimes if you close your eyes and listen with your heart you can distinguish 
the truth from the lies.
Let the Lord lead your thoughts with an open mind.
   Your true purpose in life if you trust in Him, He will help you find.

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vignette-GOLDEN BOY

He pictured celings & walls
On his time were many calls
A Michelangelo of Art Nouveau
He painted friezes, very slow
And thus erotica came on show.

Gustav Klimt (1862-1918)

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Left to die

Running through the forest i can hear your footsteps
my heart thudding so fast about ready to burst
my legs are hurting and my lungs are dry
but if i stop now i know i'm going to die
slower and slower
until i fall, "Dear God, NO!"
i scream as you stab me with a knife
a weird pressure is near my waist
i cry and i cry
tears running down my bloody face.
you smirk and you laugh
you enjoy my anguish and pain
you finally finish and leave me to die
my eyes slowly close, i know i'm giving up
my heart slows down
my hearing stops
i go numb
i feel like i'm falling
i slowly died
my last thought:
"my eighteenth birthday and I'll be floating towards the sky."
they found me a few days later
my mother heartbroken, my father in pain
the funeral seemed long, the tears endless
i had died before my parents
i had to watch them be in pain
soon after,
my killer,
had killed them too
people in the world were meant to love each other,
i thought
not kill one another
to this day i'm supposed to be twenty-four
but thanks to my teacher,
I'll never know my future

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vignette-A MAN OF STYLE

Untouched by form of his time
Dying so young of TB
His talent remains for us to see-
Cut short this tragic life,
Followed so quickly by his wife.

Modigliani 1884-1920 

Note: Two days after his death his pregnant wife Jeanne,jumped from a 5th floor window.

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A living embodiment of Art Nouveau
Loie knew how to put on a show
With whilash curves and tendrils
Her active pose in shimmering light
This bronze dancer still gives delight

Loie Fuller ,American dancer inspired many sculptures in bronze,she was desribed in 1900 as 
the living embodiment of Art Nouveau.

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All I Ever Wanted

All I ever wanted,
 Was to be treated right,
And then possibly his wife.

All I ever wanted,
 In my life was for you,
To return the favor,
Of my hard, unselfish labor.

All I ever wanted,
 From you not the material things,
Just to give me loving,
That would make my heart sing.

All I ever wanted
Was not the lies that you told me 
Was not the constant saying 
I treat you with the utmost respect.

I always wondered,
Why did you reject me?
And then want me only
When the lower part of your body,
 Stood erectly.

All I knew,
 That when you,
 First touched me
I fell in love immediately
My heart ticked for you,
Just like a clock.

I gave more than,
 What you wanted,
Which left my heart empty,
And haunted.
I received less,
Than your best.

All I ever wanted,
 Was to be treated right,
And then possibly his wife.

wrote 3-23-08

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My Life's Work

I sort of thought no matter what happen I'd have you
Now from the look of what happen recently it can't be true
I counted on you needing me
I guess that's hard for you to see
See you'll never know what I see when I look at me
You'll never know, how much I needed you to need me
I'm so into the idea I'd play the fool
And I'm saying right now I'd do anything to keep you
I'm not ready to lose you; I'm just getting use to loving you
Never say goodbye, never leave me like this
Don't walk away, alone I'm dangerous
If you must go, leave me my identity
If you must go, leave my shadow
Reflections of scattered thoughts of us two
I lowered my inhibitions for you
I honestly don't know how you feel
However I'm just keeping it real
I need for you to need me
My life's work or just a faded memory.

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Apart of me

I wonder how you feel when I run across your mind
Good, bad, or pleasant thoughts coming from inside
It hard not knowing how you feel
When the feeling that I’m feeling has got to be real
We’re so distanct yet so close
But I lack the things from you I need the most
It’s affection from you that I seek
It’s because, you’re Apart of me

It’s uncertain you have the same attraction
Because you show no emotion, it’s not in your actions
My heart just yearns for capture
Caught up in the love that it’s after
In your presence ,up under your skin
Posted up I want to lie within
But, it’s been 2 long weeks
And you’re still apart from me

Looks like nothings going to change
The world keeps moving and I just stay the same
I guess I need to move on before its to late
No matter how hard it feels, I choose my own fate
If you’re unsure about what it is you want
Tell me what you’re thinking right now upfront
I don’t need 3 months to decide if theirs a we
It’s evident to me already, beacuse you’re apart of me

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Half a lifetime spent in search of purpose we ponder every reason
In the weather cycles term of life mine came in summer season
Suddenly my eyes were a path to my heart a glimpse of life's high fashion
It was a smile you see ignited hope and awakened sleeping passion
No flash of light nor harmonic sounds just a long sought peaceful feeling
And for my aching heart a wistful lift for my soul a perfect healing
Now as the cycle goes from summer to fall I have you to share my life
And the winters chill we sometimes fear I now cherish with you my wife
So I thank the lord for this special gift he's given me to cherish
Knowing leaves will turn and snow will fall yet our love will never perish

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What is it about?

What does he have on me, that would make you leave me
How do I live without you
Go on like there was never a we
Two years of relationship, now it’s just me
Never saw you leaving after all the times
Your telling me, your never coming back
Your love for me has played out its lines
You expect me to just continue to live without
The love you put on me, what was that about

I put it all on the line so many times
Made so many changes to make it right
Found all this love to please 
Now you betray me with ease
If it was that easy for you to leave
Then love for me you said you had, I can’t believe

That song you sing is the same, from yesterday
Didn’t think I would catch it
Now why you handle your baby that way
At least that’s the way you use put it
Now you don’t even sleep on your own pillow
Running up behind some marshmallow negro
I weather the good and bad of you
Took all the stuff you put me through
Yet still I wasn’t enough
The bad in you, that front, that bluff
Had me all caught up with the good scene of you
Now you’ve moved on, B-jay ends & now it’s part two
Seems like just yesterday we were together, now I'm through with you

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vignette-22 RUE DE PROVENCE

With a new shop,Samuel Bing
caused the whole world to sing
of his new shop'La Maison de l'art nouveau-
On display,paintings,sculpture & design
All of the contemporary kind

Tribute to the man from whose shop the term Art Nouveau derives.

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Shadows of Turning

One shadow.  Two shadows..  Three shadows... 
And two remain when the third one fades,
Until the light is directly behind me.  
And then there's just one.
As I move further away, a second and third one
Is cast from the light just ahead, 
And one of the three disappears
As the other joins the one behind me,  
Like an off-centered aura;
And when I walk from whence I came
There is my shadow and its aura in front of me,
Mimicking my every movement, until they join as one.
Then two others appear as I near a light,
The two at my side are strong,
As the one in front flickers away, 
So goes the one at my left side;
And the one behind, alone, slowly walks ahead of me.
Almost simultaneously disappearing, 
Until the shadow with an aura appears
And move around from back to left to front;
And so goes the cycle as I move from light to light, 
Until I see only one shadow,
Which slowly fades as I turn to go left, 
Then a lighter one angles long and leftward,
Disappearing quickly as the two reappear 
At an angle behind me, to my left, then a bit ahead
Until I turn left again and rest beside the column, 
And there I rest just me and my shadows.

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Journey To The Sun (repost)

...for the Rev. Eric Shirvell-Price

Morning; the child awakes, 
steps lightly 'cross the threshold 
of the courtyard.

eyes of the castle 
o'er the glen ablaze with sparkling 
brilliance draw his gaze, and 
peak his curiosity.

Suited for all-comers with sturdy 
leggings for his Big Adventure, 
he takes on the day, as brave as good 
King Arthur on a mission for the Grail. 

Striding forth, his heart is beating 
like a drum as he tarries by the river 
to bathe his feet in icy water, wolfing down 
the victuals prepared by a Queen. 

Trudging up the hillside harder than 
the journey down, wearying now his steps 
are measured. He needs to claim his dream
though his eyes now see dull sockets where 
the shining should have been. 

Depressed, he sits exhausted to weigh 
the reason why. As he turns, hungry for home, 
his heart is leaping, for basking in the radiance 
of the slowly dying sunset is his own bright shining 
castle, eyes glittering like burnished gold!

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My Oath and Pledge!

Sometimes the words they flow like wine,
Giving life to these thoughts of mine.

Sometimes I struggle and there is nothing there,
As I try to write a story in hopes it will reach someone who cares.

This gift I received not long ago,
Writing has become a passion that I love so.

Sometimes my wording is not always the best,
Maybe someday my writings will be as good as the rest.

But this is to those who encourage what I do,
From the bottom of my heart I wish happiness for you.

And if I offend in any way,
I apologize my friend is all I can say.

I guess we all sometimes get a little carried away,
As we search for the answer that lies hidden on life’s highway.

There is only one person who holds the key,
And you can readily reach Him on bended knees.

I give thanks to my Lord each and everyday,
And I’m patriotic at heart for the U.S. of A.

But it seems that something is trying to separate the two,
I love them both and I am doing everything I know to do.

I’ll never give up my love for my Lord and Savior,
And I don’t understand all this anti-Christ behavior.

I’ll stand up and defend my country with my life,
But only with Jesus will I make such a sacrifice.

This is my oath and my pledge to all
I’ll stand for my country as long as Jesus doesn’t have to take the fall.

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Lady Misery

She who walks in darkness, they call her. 
She lives where the sun is turned to darkness. 
The black depths of death, she never sleeps. 
At night she rises from her shadowy place in the world, 
In search of the one who stole her soul.

Into her very heart the fire burned, 
Because of he, her heart is cold. 
She yearns for a life where there are no more tears, 
For it's been too many years. 
She gave him her heart and all that she could give 
And in return… he gave her fears. 

Fears of another he let into his heart and therefore he parted.
She tried making him stay, she begged and pleaded. 
He said he no longer needed her love, her touch…
He knew she loved him so much. 
He left, never to return again, in the end she did not win. 
So she packed up the three things that meant the most to her 
And left to go down under. 
And with her she took pictures of him and her, her poem book, 
…and a broken heart. 

She is now forced to roam this planet sadly and lonely. 
She feels used; she looks for no ending to her agony. 
She cries tears of red, they say. 
She's as beautiful as the goddess Aphrodite. 
People claim to see her nightly. 
The look upon her face is sad and lifeless, 
As a ghost they say she floats. 

Never again will she love another 
She'll search for him till her life is over.
Lady Misery is her name 
And forever her heart lies in pain.


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Chinese Dream

Chinese dream
Her Oriental eyes
His Spanish smile,
She is forbidden fruit
A language in between
He cannot express how he feels
He cannot determine what she is made of,
She is like a mirage, created from
Pearl, diamond and the purest gold
Chinese dream
His heart is aching 
Her eyes speaks another language also
His head and heart commence battle
‘You are meant to be together.’
Out of his control
‘She is the One.’
He wants control over the situation
Chinese dream
He doesn’t know a word of Chinese
His Spanish tongue, not so diverse
Her language alien to him
She walked by, her scent drifted
She saw him and felt it too
Chinese dream
What to do? What to say?
She smiled and shyly kept on
His camera in his hand
He automatically raised his hands
Surprisingly shaky, he snapped her shot
She disappeared into the town crowd
Her garments glisten, she is his
Chinese dream
His feet run on their accord, yet
He finds her easily, because
Her exquisiteness is unique
Her red dress so elegant
Her eyes so profound, he’s by her side
His hand reaches hers, she gasps, turns
Spanish tongue is stuck for words
Chinese dream

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Haystacks and poplars
Rivers and views
Gardens and lilies
with abstract hues-
these impressions ..I choose

Claude Monet 1840-1926 (Water Lilies series 1923-1925)

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Black Rose

I am hanging on to this rose
In where I am hoping you will come
My hope for our love is high
Couldn't imagined what we had become

You surrounded me with your smiles
My fantasy built up with you
Colours of red only in my sight
And saw you always dress in blue

Love was in my mind
When I realised we had our first kiss
A way to figure out
That love was not actually a risk

I finally found her towards the end
Where no man could survived that far
My Hope was to build a new beginning
And to be as what we are

I know our love was strong
It was never wrong
I know this is what you want
Where we truly belong

When that one day comes
The sky turned dead black
Filled my world with emptiness
She would not go back

She left me but a note
A note that did not change my world
But it was a note
That change my heart

I could not forget about her
Her face, mind and soul was in me
I wish I could get out
To a day when I could be free

I know she still had my rose
I know she still had my heart
Our lives could not move on
With us staying apart

I wonder in my own fantasy
Where love did not exist in there
I couldn't erased these memories
These haunted memories I couldn't bear!

From here till the present
Where her figure started to fade
I wonder if the rose still had the same colour
That rose which I Believe will no longer be red

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vignette- PA DOW

The svengali of American art
His teaching gave so many a start
'Harmony & balance' his famed word-play
'Filling space in a beautiful way'
In Georgia's heart,his words did stay

Tribute To Arthur Wesley Dow (1857-1922) Teacher & artist  Marsh Creek

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vignette-SEA OF GLASS

Radiolarium & portugese man o' war
The most precise paridgm I ever saw
Blaschkas' legacy..a materclass
Now long lost in the past
Living flowers in Harvard glass.

Leo & Rudolf Blaschka 19th cntury Bohmians creators of these unique intricate glass sea sculpture

See moe @
& @

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My Little World


I feel so small,
   In the spectrum of it all.
No more important than a mere speck of dust,
   Lost in this matrix with no one to trust.
With no will to climb higher, 
    Scared of being burnt as I near the flames of the fire.
All trust has vanished throughout time,
    Putting your trust in another can often leave you feeling like slime.
Emotions can only blind you,
    And keep you from doing the things you need to do.
Your heart is your most tender of garments, 
    Especially when worn on your sleeve exposed for all to torment.
And if exposed for too long it is said it will turn to the hardest of stone,
    Isolation is wrong for the heart can’t stand to be left all alone.
So there we go again the circle is complete,
    Trust or isolation without companionship we’ve met defeat.
And without trust no companionship will be had,
    So forget what I just said I think I’ve just gone mad.
A white coat a padded room, 
    A safe place for brilliant minds to bloom.
It’s never to late to get it right,
    At least that’s what my doctor tells me most every night.
Said my mind just needed a rest,
     As he shows me pictures for some kind of test.
See ya later,
     Irish tater.

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Frightful Friday

you and your friends are chilling
when you spotted this man through the crowd
he walks up to you
you're smitten
happy that you caught his eye
the both of you are dancing then he asks you do you want a drink
not thinking you quickly respond
yes, get me a coke please
as you're dancing and drinking
your heart beats faster, so you start to sweating
you can't think, it's hard to focus
your eyelids get heavy, but it's not from being sleepy
you've past out just to wake up to a man forcing himself upon you
you're trying so hard to push him off
but your body is numb
what's left to do but cry?
it hurts your heart to know that your virginity is being taken by a man you've just met
your body is so fragile, but he doesn't care
when he finished he got up and left you there
should you tell?
would they believe you?
your friend finds you in the room
and quickly calls 911
she's praying and wishing that you're okay
you'll never want to go out again
all because of that FRIGHTFUL NIGHT

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I Dream of Dances

A dance I’ll steal from this night
And move slowly with the moon
Stars will shine upon my feet
I will create a waltz for each one.

My arms move slowly, entrancingly
Hypnotizing sleepy watching eyes
Light sprinkles on my face from above
My bare feet glide across the breezy grass

A dance I’ll steal from this night
Sailing between each strong tree
Fireflies accompany my spellbound trance
Musical allusions fly alongside.

The flowers bloom acceptingly in the still of the night
Their quieted lights reveal the dreams of those asleep
Nuzzled in their nests as I drift below the leaves
Dancing in a daze, as I would in any sleep.

My feet skim a cool stream’s edge
Fresh water glittering on my lively legs
A skip across the small blue belt 
The constitution of the forest
Winding from end to end.

A dance I’ve stolen from the night
In a forest of breathtaking captivities 
Each shining star a kindly ovation 
To my dreamy wander.

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Come Inside

A young woman sits alone on the steps of a church,
her heart is so full of pain, she has been through so
All by herself, and afraid to go in, what will these people
think about all her sins.
Then out of nowhere, an old lady appeared, and sat
down beside her, asking, "why all the tears."
The young woman told her about her past, and lost years,
and the reason for her pain, and all the tears.
As the old lady listened to her every word, they brought
back so many memories, as she listened to this poor girl.
Then she told the young woman, she was once lost too,
but God sent her a miracle, with a heart so true.
For sixty years, she had loved only one man, who
had a heart full of compassion, and was able
to understand.
"For the last forty years, he had ministered here,
his spirit is so strong, I still feel him here."
"My son has taken the ministry now, and he is so 
excited to be back in his hometown."
"So let us hurry inside, and find us a seat,
you know, God has a lot of good people in there
for you to meet."

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A painter in Le Havre called Eugene
Found the 'outside' mor his scene
Monet quickly became a fan
Claude taking aboard the views of this man-
And so ,Impressionism began

Note:Monet (1840-1926)& Eugene Boudin(met in 1858) Claude labelled a painting in Eugene's 
style 'Impressionism Sunrise'.Scorned by the critics(at first !)Monet & his friends 
Dgas,Cezanne,Renoir et al adopted Monet's title to describe their revolutionary style

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Journey To The Sun

...for the Rev. Eric Shirvell-Price

   adapted from the children's short story
  'The House With The Golden Windows.'

Morning; the child awakes, 
steps lightly 'cross the threshold 
of the courtyard.

Windows, eyes of the castle 
o'er the glen ablaze with sparkling 
brilliance draw his gaze, and 
peak his curiosity.

Suited for all-comers with sturdy 
leggings for his Big Adventure, 
he takes on the day, as brave as good 
King Arthur on a mission for the Grail. 

Striding forth, his heart is beating 
like a drum as he tarries by the river 
to bathe his feet in icy water, wolfing down 
the victuals prepared by a Queen. 

Trudging up the hillside harder than 
the journey down, wearying now his steps 
are measured. He needs to claim his dream
though his eyes now see dull sockets where 
the shining should have been. 

Depressed, he sits exhausted to weigh 
the reason why. As he turns, hungry for home, 
his heart is leaping, for basking in the radiance 
of the slowly dying sunset is his own bright shining 
castle, eyes glittering like burnished gold!

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what true worship can do for you

one day a cargo ship lost control 
and crashed into a busy commercial pier
the determinant cause of the accident
was a lack of daily maintenance and care
for when things don't get the proper care and maintenance
an accident might occur, a possible catastrophic event
as everything man-made has a work safety history
accidents don't usually occur serendipitously
for anything to stay in good working, it requires a routine of daily care
like when It comes to worshipping The Living God, we must always be aware
that God gave us His daily bread, He provided us with a most glorious meal
a feast that we should dine upon until The Holy Spirit becomes in us instilled
don't think that going to church one day of the week you will get you spiritually fit
for there is no fast formula nor remedy you can take in order to get the Holy Spirit 

what true worship can do for you
just look at any faithful Christian man
see how The Lord has worked in his life
then you might begin to understand
that living daily in the presence of God
will cleanse your heart and occupy your mind
true worship of The Living God 
is a daily supper on which to dine

your salvation is in The Lord's hands 
He's in control of everything
your situation is also dependant on God
plus what to the table that YOU bring
there is no short cut nor a quick fix
if you want The Living God to be in the mix
so maintain your spiritual fitness
stay fined tuned with daily prayer
and a heart that is true
meditate daily on the Living Word 
and see what true worship can do for you

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To one he was a figure of fun
A second brought him trouble & strife
Th third tried to tak her own life-
Voncent,such an unhappy fellow
His constant love..the colour yellow !

Tribute to Van Gogh

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Concealed Behind The Veil

Suppressed behind this afflicted excuse of a cover up
A hurting young lady lies
Afraid to show her face to the eyes, 
eyes of the man who hurt her
And repeatedly told her she would never be nothing in life 
As her preceded to rape her

Stripping her of her dignity, as she was losing all her sanity
Her hurt filled screams of fear
Followed and accompanied with the streams
Of way more than just one tear
never seemed to move this man
Who’s breath reeked of bud light beer

Who’s eyes tattled about the weed he had smoked just hours before
Which was slowly tearing down his body
As he compressed himself on top of her
Taking her precious virginity, 
Innocence she would never get back
Just so he could go and tell his homeboys “Oh I hit that”

Now this young lady feels alone 
Afraid to open up to another 
Another victim who has the same story 
Who could help her through
And possibly get her in church to kneel by the alter

Kneel and ask God to give her a forgiving heart 
So one day she’ll be able to forgive this 
sad specimen of a man
A man who has her alone and scared
Afraid to show her face, because of what these 
Judgmental people may think

Not knowing the truth, The truth that lies behind
Behind her undried teary eyes
The truth she decided to cover up, 
after being raped and feeling unclean
Hoping it will help forget the mean and ungodly things
This sorry excuse of a man did to her

She never played the fool
Just went by the rules 
Being a player in this over-rated game of life
And yet she is a prisoner of words unsaid
Left searching for peace inside herself
Dealing with the feelings and emotions deserted and trapped in her mind

Her heart full of madness and slowly taking over her mind
When she thinks to speak, She stops and remain silent
Silenced by the thought of him holding her down
With her body exposed
Now left trying to leave the was
To start with the right now

But is still left imposed
With looking for someone
To blame.

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Yearbook for the Blind

Silence has taken it’s toll on me
A breeze sifts through the light fabrics of my shirt
Stalling time
In the yearbook for the blind.

Creeping upon me is the quiet of the air
Forever captured in never-ending scenery
The soft daylight reaching through to the reader’s sensitive fingertips
Miniature lush green leaves of miniature trees forever held in place.

I stand frozen in a memory
Smiling an anxious smile
Cooly hooking my thumbs with the belt loop
In a yearbook for the blind.

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Message In a Bottle

I found a heart with a key and a note
Trapped inside a bottle next to a boat
Little one little one you found me so
This heart of steel can love some more
This heart can be replaced yet broken in two
So don't sell yourself  short on what all I can do

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His only painting still to remain
Queen Quenevere of Round Table fame-
For William's talents were by design
Beaux arts,furniture,all things fine
Fabrics,stained glass divine.

William Morris(1834-1896)-a founder of the Arts& Crafts movement in Uk

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Killing Bobby

In their home they make me ashame
they're not aware of my pain
I will run,there's much to gain
I don't look back & my spirit sings
In my mind my legs are wings
freeing me to fly to my dreams
my heart is strong and pushes me on
my fear is stronger & clips my wings 
Again I walk,my steps are slow
my heart is heavey,my head hangs low
return to their home I know I must
As soon as I'm in the sermons begin
she cannot see she's hurting me 
can't they see I'm gonna crack
they won't let up,I can't fight back
I pray for strength but I am told 
it well be hell I will go
I have a friend, she sends for me
on a bus I travel there
I run to her and spread my wings 
far to the north I live with her
We love to dance,the music loud
I will try to be proud 
away from them I will stand
begin to love who I am
By the phone she does the same
hurting me with words of gloom
she penns her poison from the book
preaching of my future doom
I shed my tears not my pain
she only sees the ugly me 
She cannot see,till it's late
the man I dream I need to be
They kept their hold and wouldn't let go
I was wrong to have told
now I know I'll never be free
my soul is dark and turing cold
I know I'm weak but I'm not a freak

The darkess is coming
bringing me peace
at last I find what I seek

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The One In A Million

I met you when I was half-way to nowhere;
I followed my heart, and I was not mistaken -
Each time I fell, you made me rise, 
And you did guide me, 
As my eyes were blind.
You were the shield for me, forsaken,
The only one to care.
And I would give a world to
Have lived through all that twice.

You opened my heart to true love,
So genuine, not known before;
Unlocked it and set me free,
Accepting that I was just me,
Being that perfect guise
Of the one I'd been searching for
All my life... You're the one in a million...

Your heart is the candle of my hope,
So let it be the cradle of my love...
And only in your arms
It would feel like home.
Forgive me for the words 
That weren't said on time,
For having lied to you,
When I did only lie... to myself.
And all: your tears on my pillow,
Your nightmares that I have 
Like they are mine,
Your burden on my shoulders
Hurt more as love is growing older,
But for this all, I'd never see the light. 

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Into the shadows,
where darkness dwells,
an affair of mystery,
she must never tell.
So quiet she waits,
her heart pounds so,
his touch still lingers,
her heart is aglow.
Into the stars,
he carries his love,
on a  beautiful night,
they can't share enough.
When daylight comes,
her heart still sings,
remembering the passion,
he always brings.

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vignette-GOLDEN BOY

He pictured ceilings and walls
On his time were many calls-
A michelangelo of Art Nouveau
He painted friezes ,very slow
And thus erotica came on show

Tribute Gustave Klimt(1862-1918)

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Picture perfect

Up the hill
Around the bend
Across from the old Wood house
Lies a small family grave yard
Fenced and untouched
In what used to be wood swamp
But is now acres of open ground
There are two stones
And two trees
I painted it at sundown
In an attempt to recreate
A more permanent
Champagne sunset
It has hung over the kitchen fireplace
For at least a year
Last week I saw
An Indian
Leaping onto a horse
Rearing into the sunset’s glow
All in the leaves
Of two painted trees

Moved by "Superlative Senses" I wrote this as comments

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A Broken Heart

Here i am
of how my heart is being torn apart
I gave it to you
And you shattered it at my feet
I loved you
Called u ma great one
But you played me
And 2 think 
Just maybe
Maybe you still cared
Maybe you still love me
Maybe you will come back and mend all the broken pieces of my heart. Put back 
the pieces that u vigorously torn apart.
And here i am
Thinking about ya smile
Your humor
Ya love
that love that i thought could only come from up above...... 
I used 2 be Beautiful
Now look at me
I gave u ma heart and u torn it apart
I gave u ma soul and u just lost control
I gave u something that u wasn't ready 4 yet
I will never forget 
the pain
the agony
the lies
the love
the peace 
the joy
we shared
but it's time 2 move on
I held out  ma world 
and u shattered it at ma feet
like i wasn't worth ya time
You call when all ya dates left u
When they  came back u then left me
I held out ma arms 4 so long
im used 2 it
but jus recently i figured out something 
it took me a while 2 recognize it
but i got it just on time
Im leaving u behind
Looking ahead 4 the joy 
that the dear lord promise me
The peace that I've been longing 4
hoping 4
i can see the clouds clearing up
I see the rainbow
all the beautiful colors
they represent me
the new me
Now that your out ma life
         2 b continued............
                   One love 
                       Love Angel
God bless and keep.....

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Them and They

Don't turn to look back
They will be right behind you

Don't try to imagine them
They don't like it that way

Don't dream of them
They will haunt you in your head

Don't keep thinking about them
They don't like it

Don't try to see them
They will try to see you

Don't ever forget them
They will not forget you

Don't talk about them
They don't like to be talk

Don't scream when you saw them
They don't like screaming noises

Don't be silent when you saw them
You will be silent for the rest of your life

Who are they
They are them

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Love Is Not Certain

You will know if he is the one,
your heart may tell you, turn and run,
but love is not certain, it has no
guarantee, what is to be, will be.

Don't let the past, shadow your mind,
love is sometimes, blissfully blind,
a mountain is made for a better view,
remember this, when he comes to you.

So my friend, don't be afraid,
take that chance, for you never know,
he may be the one, who will love you, 
and with each new day,  his love will grow.

Keep looking to the future, forget the past,
especially the parts where love was trashed,
you are much wiser, you have earned that claim,
all men are different, none are the same.

He is out there, waiting for you,
open your eyes, and your heart too,
and when you see him, just take the lead,
two loving hearts, in a search, to be needed.

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The Heart

The heart can hide lifes changing pain,
how it does this, is really hard to explain.

A child mislead, or a lover gone bad,
only a few of the challenges it has had.

It will pick itself up, and continue on,
even making you believe, you have a happy home.

This magical part of the human anatomy,
can do it all, if you just believe.

Even if it is broken, it repairs  within,
the heart will  forgive,and begin to mend.

Nothing quite like it, nothing anywhere,
a masterpiece of compassion, and care.

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God's Gift

When one can say, you give me strength,
to a higher power, our strongest link.
This is when ones heart is revealed, 
and hate wrapped in bitterness, will be healed.
That moment in time, as your lips speak love,
a new beginning is granted from above.
Grace is not bought, nor stolen in the night,
God gives it freely, when ones heart is right.
Sin is forgiven, and it fades from God's eyes,
never to be remembered again, 
because Jesus died.
Three crosses marked the beginning,
for our salvation one day,
God's gift to the world, 
came on Christmas Day.

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vignette- INFAMOUS

Violence was his game
Tancred,prince of Salerno ,by name
Killed his daughter's true love
Delivered the heart to her abode
Infamy remembered in song,play and ode

Note: Tancred(1078-1152) killed Guiscardo,his daughter's lover and cut his heart out and 
sent it to her,she then took poison.Tancred buried them together

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I step into the room,
Boiling over with noise
A crescendo of laughter
Laughter I cannot join in on
People, faces I do not know
I feel shy, embarrassed
Did I dress well today?
Who knows?
I move around, I do what I need to
I smile slyly, wave to those who stick out
As faces I seem to recognise
A self-conscious beauty
Instantly, I feel a burn
Of eyes on me
I know not to turn around
But I do; a mistake
My eyes lock with his
A face I do not know,
A King sitting down, on his throne
Beauty not claimed by an average man, 
I look away and continue in my task
Remember to exhale,
I finish my work and lift my eyes
His dark eyes still watch, like a predator
Our eyes burn
I feel a burn in my chest
Butterflies and all sorts of winged creatures
In my stomach
My lips tremble
His gaze never leaves, 
His eyes tell me stories I cannot fathom 
I forget my self-consciousness in the strange place
He wipes it away somehow
His blink is so slow
I know he’s staring, 
My mouth eases a smile
I give my best shot
His body
His eyes, 
My eyes soften
His build, I take it all in 
I am frozen; he’s taken my breath…
I have no control
Somehow, I
Walk towards him
My mouth begins to move

She enters
I am there
She does not even know
I exist at all, but she will soon 
The Queen from before,
Like a lifetime away, like royalty,
I sit, wait,
A crowded room of noise
Yet she wipes the outside far away
Anxious and unsteady
Yet ready, willing
Confident, she is a Princess
Like no other
She seems shy, meek, yet
A lady of ladies,
She is busy, at work
Preoccupied with a task 
I, on the other hand remain
Preoccupied with her beauty
I cannot let her go
My heart warms,
She stops, knowingly
I know she feels my burn,
My eyes cannot let go
She turns, sees me,
For the first time
My eyes on hers
Almond shaped and deep brown,
She is stunned, turns away
The room does not know of our
I smile to myself, 
She ignites a fire,
An inferno in my chest,
I remain seated
Afraid to stand, knees weak
Unbeknownst of the burn in me
My chest heaves,
Feel shy for a moment
She turns back, a smile
Face to face, across the room
My face relaxes, I return a grin
She is a masterpiece of perfection
My heart? Captured
She approaches
My heart beats hard
She smiles
I exhale
She speaks softly,
'Have we met?'
I reply,
'Only in my dreams....'

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When I Look Into The Mirror

When I look into the mirror
   I don't see who others see, I dont see who I want to be.
   Their are two vacant eyes staring back at me in wonder
   while a wind quite more like a breeze blows away my reflection
   that was but a cloud of dust. I see many meaningless remains, particals
   that block my view as doth a heavy fog and I turn away in disgust
   for the meaningless is all that I see. Understanding has evaded me.

When I look into the mirror
   I dont see any beauty, I don't see any confusion.
   I see many misunderstood tears falling from those vacant eyes down 
   cheeks of nothingness only to evaporate into wonder.
   I've gone astray and the way I see no more, the wonder is that of
   wonders within this emptiness that takes hold of me. If my way
   I can see no more, how is it that I am yet led?

When I look into the mirror
   Beyond the blown away me through the remains, particals of dust,
   I see a flicker of light not yet clear and my doubt quickly drives it 
   away. Yet somehow now that I no longer see that which was but a flicker 
   of light, I see a light which burns as doth a torch.
   Deep inside I feel a strength forming and it's telling me of a
   Love that is unlike any other and that this love, loves me.

When I look into the mirror
   I see before me one who is unworthy yet encompassed by a love
   so very strong and quite unmeasureable to a mortal as I.
   This love unlike any other speaks right to my heart as it's heart
   reaches out to mine. It rests upon me even in my darkest hours.
   Just when I feel that I can no longer hold on, this love that is 
   unlike any other shows to me it's hand of mercy that will never let me go.

When I look into the mirror: 
   Those meaningless remains, particals that blocked my view as doth a heavy
   fog, I see no more. The light that burns as doth a torch can never be
   extinguished, it will burn brighter with every flicker of light
   that my doubt may drive away. It is not the fuel by which this torch burns
   but it feeds the flame as it's hunger is devouring. Unquenchable it seems.
   Fueled by that Love that is unlike any other.

When I look into the mirror
   I am within loves heart and I wonder how loving me can be so simple 
   for this Love that is unlike any other? 
   I see truth and understanding standing beside me, my heart is clasped 
   tightly in loves hand!
   A sinner indeed yet loved so simply by Love that is unlike any other.

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cascading light 
washing over me 
on sunlit wings 

fierce golden glow 
feather edged sundancer 

sun light in your heart 

goose pimples of pleasure 
sun trickling drops of pure gold light 
dapple on me 

sunbreathing,basking sunshine 
golden wings soar 
rush of warm wind, 
blinding white light 

blue silence 
calm of mind 
flex of golden wing 
on sunlit clouds of white 

pure joy of golden light 
pure joy golden flight 

feather of mind 
feather of heart 

sunlit heart 

breathe me 
soft golden journey 
my journey 
your journey 

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Receive the Gift and Be the Gift


As Christmas brings us joy and peace this time of year,
   Keep your heart merry and filled with admiration and good cheer.
A simple and kind act here and there,
   Share your blessings with those who have less and cannot share.
Don’t be a Scrooge, don’t be unkind,
    Give of yourself, you’ll have peace of mind.
If you see a family in need somewhere,
    Give with your heart learn how to share.
Be a role model for all to see.
    Show the world how good giving can truly be.
Think of the elderly who already have gave so much.    
   All they now seek are a few kind words and maybe a tender touch.
The elderly are part of a pushed away society.
     As they no longer can function they lose all notoriety.
Forgiveness and kindness are the greatest gifts that we can give.
     They are life’s lessons that teach us how we all should live.
Pray for harmony throughout the land.
     Pray for God to send peace and for all to understand.
And don’t forget the real reason for this holiday.
    Thank the Lord for Jesus and the price He had to pay.
The birth of our Savior was chosen to be this day.
    Wise men came to Him from far away.
Bringing gifts they were laden down.
    Searching for baby Jesus in that far off town.
King of all Kings, Man of all Men,
    Forgiver of all our mortal sins.
Jesus is the Greatest Gift you can ever receive.
   And it’s free of charge to those who truly believe.

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vignette-LE BATEAU

Was by an artist of worldwide renown
Sadly the museum hung it upside down
Forty-seven days nothing seemed amiss
So what would Henri made of this-
Travesty to the great Matisse

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Vacant Stares

That vacant stare, I have come to know,
following me everywhere I go.
Trying to look so deep within,
looking for something, or somehow to mend.
Damage control is who I've become,
sorting through garbage, left undone.
Worlds apart, you are a stranger to me,
back then , and now, it's hard to believe.
My heart was yours, no questions asked,
then you revealed a stranger, hidden under that mask.
Time is moving way too slow,
my heart is tugging, begging me to go.
Until then, my hearts on hold,
and those vacant stares from eyes so cold..

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He drove the trowel point first into the open bag of diatomaceous earth
pulled it up full and dumped it into the black paint can
after a few mixing stirs he did it again
Soon he had a rich black cream and minutes later the canvas was
completely shiny black with swirls flowing into themselves to 
enhance the depth of reflection in the finished rendition
He called it getting into the mood
The final picture  a mystery  like writing a story about anything that might
come to mind even if it didn’t
The phone rang. He ignored the first three rings and the answering machine
Took care of it. Several visions came to mind as he stared into the darkness.
It was two days later when he saw it again. He took a touch of yellow mixed
with white and touched each swirl at ten o’clock then with the drying brush
worked through them in sequence following the rhythm. Two more experimental
sweeps with red and blue were enough to give him a direction to work in
         .Hours later the palette a mix of blazing color and the patterns merging into
 each other in several vanishing points of view had him squinting to focus on the
center of the top right quarter. Glints of sharp fossil reflect the reddened madness
drip following the arc of swung silver furies as clouds boil into and out of the 
shining darkness. Sweat stings into his left eye as he flings the brush and knife
down to the floor. The ache starts at his left knee sharpening to pain as it twists 
up his back to explode in the usual spot behind his left eye. He reaches for the
bottle instinctively then remembering it isn’t there limps into the kitchen for
caffeine consolation.

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Exhibition (2005)

A picture tells a story more than 100 words
Why do some people stand out from herds?
Feelings expressed by the windows of your soul
A picture is more than a reflection on a negative roll
Portraits of every day life snap shot and freezed
Life stood still momentarily squeezed 
No need to be exposed wide
Your exhibition is seen from inside

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Untitled #67 / A test

Untitled, their works of art (?), their minds
pried to the paper, full-out concentrate
only a few sigh and rub their eyes
and lean back, hands overhead, yawns,
relaxed, reclined, restrained, now!
Headfirst diving into the test once more!

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As I gather my thoughts of the passing year,
deep inside a tiny voice I hear.
One day at a time,
I try and recall,
the highs, and lows,
remembering it all.
The horror of a son,
trying to cope with life,
the death of my mother,
oh, the tears I've cried.
A little bit of happiness,
brings a trickle of hope,
and the understanding,
you can't push a rope.
A heart full of love,
for my family, and friends,
for without them,
my heart would not mend.
Writing my poetry,
and composing my music,
and realizing without God,
life is an empty song.
This is a new year,
with new hopes, and dreams,
and a new given chance,
that each one brings.
Happy New Year.