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Quatrain Dedication Poems | Quatrain Poems About Dedication

These Quatrain Dedication poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Quatrain Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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To Robin

You left me so sad today
I needed you to make me smile
I wanted to see you laugh
And forget my burdens awhile

Robin, you left me sad today
My heart is pained even more
That you're the one who took your life
Was there nothing worth fighting for?

Robin, what do you leave for us?
Who have struggled down this path?
What do you leave for us to think
If you couldn’t make it last?

You had it all, you had the fame
You had the glory too
But Robin, where was the love?
Where was the love for YOU?

Those who laugh the hardest
And make the tears come down
Are those with pain too great to bear
So they play the part of clown

I’ve also played that part, my dear
I laugh to hide the tears
I giggle and I joke around
But I’m consumed by fears

Oh Robin, I will miss you so
We’ve never even met
But I feel I know you well
No one sweeter than you yet

So like a robin, you flew away
Took your life to be free
Oh Robin, I’m left here to think
What will become of me?

Eileen Manassian

To Robin Williams, one of my absolute favorite actors. I adored that man.

Media vita in morte sumus – in the midst of life we are in death (Wolfgang 

Depression claims another soul. Only those who deal with it know the dark 
places that it can lead...yes, even to the valley of the shadow of death.

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Five Stars

*Dedicated to Andrea Dietrich, Caleb Smith, Isaiah Zerbst, Anne Currin, and Eileen Ghali

I'll start with illustrious Andrea,
our talented sonneteer.
She peppers our poems with kindness, 
with comments so bright and sincere.

Next, we have Mr. McCaleb,
our sweet gent from Arkansas
From KOs to boogers to nature,
he writes without limit or flaw.

Now, I must turn to Isaiah,
the master of meter and rhyme.
His poems are most reminiscent
of forgotten ages in time.

I cannot forget our Queen Anne,
who graces us all with her songs.
Her lyrics tug at our heartstrings, 
yet she's upbeat, lovely, and strong.

Last but not least is Eileen,
the most spirited poetess.
She translates feeling to verse
and writes with such skill and finesse.

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The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.

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Ode to a rose on a sunset

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as the clouds dip into the sea.
A kiss from that rose as the waves fall,
over the beach to a rose kissed me.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as we wrap in lovers embrace.
A kiss from a rose as homeward we go,
to a bed clothed in satin and lace.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
with passion and warmth do we grasp.
A kiss from that rose that blossoms and blooms,
my hand in her labour pain clasp.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
that wanton and curvy young bride.
A kiss from that rose that huddles our babe,
so loving, in motherly pride.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
without whom I'd not share my life.
A kiss from that rose who selflessly filled,
the place of my darling rose wife!

(c) anaisanais - A M Docherty - Wales, United Kingdom. (7/8/2013)

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Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love,
making the artist's delighted face glow...
when every vision has been achieved,
and each intention joyfully revealed.

He will envision the shape and colors,
then transfer those images to canvas;
and with the gentles strokes of his brush...
real faces will appear and suddenly blush.

Thinker and dreamer, let passion and imagination flow,
don't be distracted by worries or external sounds below;
work diligently with your brush, transcending your own credibility...
but later, it would be too hilarious to scream out your insanity.

Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love...
that enduring, timeless legacy hard to ignore;
when others show admiration, you'll be so pleased
and motivated to add more laurels to your prestige.     

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Jew #18

I would not call my love a flower
Lest she languish in the sun and fade
I could not kiss my love a brief hour
My desire is deep as Jove's high glade

I would not compare my love to day
With all the traffic of commercial vice
And nights are poor in their bright display
And drip not sweet as her in love's spice

I would not call my love a river
Lest the rains deny her, she abates
Not as supplier and a giver
Of my constant joy her heart dictates

There is no word or thought for love, poor
Images everything, hence I wait
Each hour for eternity to pour
Itself in us, finding better state

Where two are one in fact, truth and deed
And love can never more be apart
And all our sweetest shall we exceed
When are cradled heart to beating heart.

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Heaven's Grocery Store

Marching down life’s highway, my feet became very sore
I then came upon a sign that read “Heaven’s Grocery Store”
When I got closer the doors swung open wide
Next thing I knew I was standing there inside
I saw a flock of angels positioned everywhere
They handed me a basket and said, “Child shop with care.”
Everything a human required was in that grocery store
With many commodities to carry, you could always come back for more
First I acquired some Patience; Love was in that same row
Further down was Understanding, you require that everywhere you go
I grabbed a box of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two
And obtained Charity of course but more than just a few
And then reached for Courage to help me run this wicked race
My basket was almost full but remembered some loving Grace
I then chose Salvation for it was advertised as free
I tried to collect enough of that for both you and me
Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill
For I thought I had everything to do the Master’s will
As I went up the aisle, I saw Prayer and proceeded put that in
For I knew when I stepped outside I was bound to encounter sin
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last thing on that shelf
Song and Praise were hanging near so I just helped myself
Then I asked an angel, “Now how much do I owe?”
She smiled and said, “Just take them wherever you may go.”
Again I asked, “No really, how much do I owe?”
“My child,” she said, “God paid your bill a long time ago.”

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First Words Over Coffee with My Friend, Carolyn

We've enjoyed phone conversations and emails quite, liberally
Shared ups and downs, our faith and the friendship grew, naturally

This second visit to the Orange State could never be too soon
From the moment I walk through the front door I feel at home

No surprise, Carolyn's outgoing personality matches her lovely voice 
Laughter comes easy with her, an extraordinary poet, by choice

One who will go the extra mile to show how she genuinely cares
A special trait each yearns to find in friends throughout the years 

Our toast would be, 'To lasting friendship found on Poetry Soup
To honor poetic gifts- spices, flavors shared by poets in this group


By Annalise
For Michael's "First Words Over Coffee" Contest

Dedicated to one of my favorite people I've known for little over a year and
a half- Carolyn Devonshire.

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Riding on Ellison's Qua-Train

It is on this day
Into his elegant horizons
Where cirrus clouds are sprayed from sunrises and sunsets
Attuned within throat of violins

An example of his concave humanity
Preaching fond memories in baritone clefs
An embrace of admirations’ core within exhaled stanzas
Forcing trembled knees to stand against robe of Death

His double entendres know no bounds
My iridescent conundrums become resolutions’ pavement
As I grab aloe-coated tissues
Wiping joyous tears from his laughter induced statements

He pours wisdom in foaming, oat-flavored pints
While we relish in his charming, devilish wit
Slowing down a rushed humanity
Bit by luminescent bit

Yes, it is on this day
Where I choose to declare in Quatrain formed sentence
To the one that puts the “man” in humanity
An affirmation on why I bow in Santa’s reverence

©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to the almighty Jack Ellison and my 1st Quatrain!

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An Ode to E. A. Robinson

Whispers of talent are carried on New England breezes
Dickinson, Hawthorne, and the Irvings’ son Washington
Though I sense a special connection to all of these
None inspired more than Edwin Arlington Robinson

Three Pulitzer Prizes were displayed on his mantle place
His childhood in Maine he described as “stark and unhappy”
Though he went to Harvard, academics he’d not embrace
Arlington’s style was unique and his cadence snappy

“Miniver Cheevy,” displaced soul, longed for Medieval years
To Miniver I could relate, felt I was born too late
Wishing I’d ridden West with America’s pioneers
But at least my dreams alcohol will never desecrate

For his depressed brother Herman, “Richard Cory” he wrote
A handsome man who appeared to enjoy the perfect life
But the turmoil in his heart, his exterior did not denote
Richard shot himself in the head to put an end to strife

Edwin, your character studies touched something deep inside
Struggles you described of common men gripped me, made me cry
People whose dreams and accomplishments did not coincide
I, too, watch life’s play from backstage, feeling like a standby

Though I seek to display wit, tragedies pour from my pen
And much like my muse, my life seems filled with loneliness
As poets we reach out to touch lives of men and women
Hoping to find comfort as troubled feelings we express

* Written for Jared's "Ode" contest

Edwin Arlington Robinson (December 22, 1869 – April 6, 1935) was an American poet 
born in Maine who won three Pulitzer Prizes for his work. His brother Dr. Dean 
Robinson died of a drug overdose, perhaps inspiring Robinson to write of the 
alcoholic dreamer “Miniver Cheevy.”. It has been speculated that his poem "Richard 
Cory" was penned for his other brother, Herman. E.A. Robinson’s poems have a dark 
pessimism stemming from dreams gone awry.  The style and themes of many of my 
poems seem to emulate Robinson, who often wrote in rhyming quatrains.  “Richard 
Cory” can be found at
To read “Miniver Cheevy,” go to

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Translucent or see through
Or sparkling mirror’s view

I am not always I
Sometimes I become you

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Betty Boop From Beirut

Have a good friend Here on the Soup Affectionately known as Betty Boop from Beirut A talented lady Emotionally charged This sweetest of sweethearts By a margin quite large Each day to the fullest She expresses her love Her passion for life And the Man up above My life's been enriched Since meeting Miss Boop So happy to have met her Here on the Soup It's not every day We find such connection With another soul With such great affection Have a good friend Here on the Soup Affectionately known as Betty Boop from Beirut © Jack Ellison 2013

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RIP LMB Sweetheart

**Swap Quatrain**

Each stanza in this poem must be four lines where the first line is reversed in the
fourth line. Rhyming pattern AABB, CCDD, and so on.


I have so much to say, she has done so much!
She chose me, became my mentor, F*&#!!!
Tears flow, heart torn but with me she remains!
She has done so much, I have so much to say!

Such power in her verse, clung to every word!
Such diversity poetically, the humble hummingbird.
Our sessions and conversations, mentally preserved
Clung to every word, such power in her verse!

I dedicate this to you, your gods soldier now
Reminiscent our different collaborations, endowed!
So "Sweetheart" starts anew, with love I bid adieu
Your gods soldier now, I dedicate this to you

				Linda-Marie Barianna "Sweetheart"

			I have nothing but good things to say about a woman
			who has inspired so many and made everyone better
			with her aura! Linda and I have collaborated on 
			three poems and a song! Her spirit will live on here
			among all of us at PoetrySoup, Smile she looks over your
			shoulder..RIP LindaMarie Barianna "Sweetheart"

Jared Pickett

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Random Thoughts 61 Mirrored Refrain

Mirrored Refrain
x represents the only lines that do not rhyme in this poem. A & B represent the refrain!


Angelic force,
draping over me, her canopy. 
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me

You helped erect my "secret window"
Ambitiously chasing what I hunger!
Her spirits alive within me,
unmasking the wonder of this youngster!

Our poetry sessions, I sit and reminisce.
Stress free, under this willow tree
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me!

When depressed and blue you come through,
relax me when feeling vulgar.
Her spirits alive within me,
unmasking the wonder of this youngster!

Every verse meant to impress this poetess,
an essence of the empress I aim to please! 
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me!

Harshest critic yet my biggest fan,
imperfections cast asunder
Her spirits alive within me,
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster

Death cannot take the gift I was given,
Unmasking the wonder of this youngster,
her spirits alive within me.

Jared Pickett

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free cee SHE DOES dedicated to DONNA JONES a poet supreme

                                                         SHE DOES
she does make me feel whole
she does touch the intricacies of my soul
she does, and she does it all
with every poem she answers a holy dove's call

she does thrill me body and bone
she does make me feel no longer alone
she does write words I could never duplicate
she does write words that will allow her into Heaven's gate

she does something that makes me feel real
she does write words that describe how I feel
she does scribe stanzas that shake me awake
she does put into words feelings for this poet's sake

she does know the respect I hold for a poet of her grade
she does know the lady has a soul only the universe has made
she does write words that set my spirit free
alas, she probably doesn't know what her words mean to me
   © 2013..copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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These here are the indisputable facts
I was born on the right side of the tracks
WITH People who only smiled if their stocks or equity increased
If not they wouldn’t have minded becoming deceased

They had big cars, big bucks and big time class
With a million dollar house mortgaged up the a*s
Their children went to private schools in uniforms
With charming and well decorated dorms 

I looked at their faces and wondered why I didn’t fit
That’s when the fire in my belly was originally lit
I had no desire to play with kids from private schools
Nor did I ever agree to obey by their rules

So one day I skipped over steel and these here are the facts
The people I found lived in tents, not even shanties or shacks
But they didn’t have to read Dow Jones in order to smile
And couldn’t care less about having Gucci type style

They smiled at things people ignore like little tykes at play
And somehow or other they AWOKE contented day after day
They had no stocks to watch fretfully fall or RESOUNDINGLY rise
And you could see the easiness in their gleaming eyes

That which I observed in them appealed to me a great deal
The wrong side people taught me how satisfied I could feel
They lived out of back-packs, antique cedar chests and sacks
So if you come a’looking for me I’ll be on the wrong side of the tracks
             © 2011.…Phreepoetree   ~free cee!~

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God called Nathan Home

On January 5th 1992,
  God whispered in Nathan’s ear.
Oh, it seems like yesterday,
  But it’s been seventeen years.

God came into the hospital,
  And clutched him to Thy chest.
To accompany his little soul,
  Onto his heavenly quest.

Before he parted earth,
  And left for the above.
He felt his father’s warmth,
  And heard his mother’s love.

And after all this sadness,
  A place in heaven is our reward.
For Nathan is safe and sound,
  Up with the Lord of Lords.

Though he left you as an infant,
  Up in heaven he has grown.
For today’s the anniversary,
  That God called Nathan home.

This is for Gary and Elizabeth Reese,
I have written you a poem from my 
Heart to yours, may God bless you 
and Happy New Year...Raul

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In Heaven with the Lord

Three years have almost passed,
  Since God called you both home.
He summoned you untimely,
  Up to Thy golden throne.

Kayla Brianne and Elijah Kyle,
  Were both their names to be.
But God had other plans,
  And brought them to Thy glory.

Though time is filled with sorrow,
  There are things to be thankful for.
For Kayla Brianne and Elijah Kyle.
  Are up in heaven with the Lord.

Dedicated to Cody and Brandlynn Young,
two fellow soupers who lost two children.

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My Love Renewed

I searched for adventure
A time or two
In my mind I forgot
I needed you

Now I see
That I was wrong
I truly loved you
All along
With all we went through
And all we have done
I couldn't see 
That you were the one

My soul was stored
Locked up until last night
You released it
When you held me tight

Now I remember
Our passion so true
My heart yours forever
My love is renewed

For Dave

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A Warm Welcome to Aimee

I cried along with you when I heard on the phone
Your first cries as you made yourself known
With little fists flying and a voice to be heard
You let everyone know, you would not be deferred.

With angelic eyes and a cute little nose
You were pink and rosy, right down to your toes
Everyone cooing, laughing and yes a tear too
For the new life and blessing on your day of debut.

With a head full of hair the color of fawn
Born in the morning just before dawn
You visited awhile and then went out like a light
An angel needs rest to shine that bright.

So welcome Aimee Michelle, we’ve waited so long
To have you with us; to hear your life song
Never doubt for a moment how much you are loved
You are our blessing that God sent from above.

*To my son who lost a son last year but was blessed last night with a daughter.  I
couldn't be there due to illness so I only got to hear her first cries over the phone.

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The River Gomati-win

O grandma *Gomati, was born on thy bank
And born of a mother bearing your name
On all the yesterdays your water I drank
Am still the part of your pattern and frame.

My blood flows in thy stream meandering
It’s a kind of earthly immortality,
I stand by you and feel kinship endearing
Know not much about gods but your affinity

I learnt to strive, to sink and to seek depth ever
Simply Hydrogen and Oxygen doesn’t make water
Something third is needed to make you what you’re
Nobody knows except you Ma and your Creator.

Dr. Ram Mehta
June29, 2011

Twelwth Place win in

Contest: best dedication poem by P.D.


*Gomati is the name of the river in Gujarat State of India. My home town Dwarka 
where Lord Krishna ruled once, is on the bank of River Gomati. 

My mother too was born there and she was christened as Gomati after the name of the river.

Please click on the links below to see the pictures of River Gomati and the town Dwarka 
Copy and paste the links below to see pictures:( Please share it on my blog if this doesn't work)

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No Tears in Heaven

Mama cried nearly every day
Depression then undiagnosed
Tears shed, no apparent reason
Confined to bed, embryo posed

No words seemed to lift her spirits
Her children thought that they’d done wrong
We offered smiles, encouragement
At times we gathered ‘round in song

But mom responded to crisis
Troubled heart offered great comfort
When we were sick or dealt a blow
She stepped outside, offered support

The agony that she endured
Took her from this world in her youth
Despite the torment in her soul
She loved her children, that’s the truth

Now we picture her smiling down
Frolicking with angelic hosts
Helping as only she could do
Chemical imbalance just a ghost

* Dedicated to my beloved mother who always managed to find the strength to be 
there for her children despite her ongoing battle with depression.  She died before 
people knew depression could be linked to a chemical imbalance.

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Compassion Abounds

Compassion does abound in this modern world we live
Where animal and man return ones love to give
An element we all do fear could have taken all their lives
But this was not the day, that fate could contrive

To enter a burning building where their lives take second best
Training and their bravery, a heroes form of zest
Within these darkened realms, aflame and spewing of smoke
Any life that's spared, we deprive the smoking choke

For outside this smouldering building lies a bundle of stirring rags
Blackened canine features, their lives in deadening flag
Whilst alone on the sidewalk a hero sits in thought
Despair hits his heart in helpless strained distraught

His head in his hands now lifted, stirred by whining sounds
Towards him walks the mother, he turns in total astound
Leaning down to pet her, compassion fills his eyes
She licks his face to thank him, all saved and so alive

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My Man TS Eliot

Doth it not thrill thee, Poet, Dead and dust though thy art, To feel how I press thy singing Close to my heart? Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, my poems recite my plight. As two souls mix heart stashes, inspired of mastery might. A precept building ahead of time, TS Eliot dubbed the dark poet. Poems compare the heart and mind, T. was fearful human concepts blow it. Listen, I recite God’s prophet poet, the waste land be the human mind. Eliot recites death as concepts sow it. Valley shadows death, human kind. Branches, the parasites of human rubbish, as Eliot compares God’s precept dovish. Sorrow and blood slaughter is unleashed, as humans seek beasts’ minds for publish The human shall not cease of beast, mind-wilderness concept abominations, until he return to origin of flourish east. Hear wisdom of T’s dark connotations “TS near quotes Of roots that clutch of which branches grow, of its stony rubbish is only concepts of man. Broken images of rubbish, cannot flow, for of the red rock is the precept grand. “TS near quotes The blood drained of the eternal red stone. Fear is but a handful of flesh-turned dust. Death shadow dust is swallowed of throne, as the red stone shall bud of evergreen thrust. For Dear Heart And Contest The Passionate Reader Welcome back Dear Heart

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Thanksgiving Poem

The Indians and the Pilgrims.
We children do thank.
They've left us with more
than turkey and swank.

They taught us to share
from the Big to the small.
They remind us accept
that there's difference in all.

They taught us to sit
next to strangers we meet.
They taught us our history
depends who we greet.

They've given us fashion.
Put feathers in caps.
We've learned to make buckles
and pants held with straps.

They've surprised us with syrup
they tapped from our trees.
Then added to recipes
of bread just to please.

They've shown us the way
from the fields to the streams.
Made settlements neighbors:
Lands, honeys and creams.

They lived out their life
making each man they meet
look richer by far
just by going up to greet.

Remember to thank them
and ask them for more
because they taught us what giving
and sharing is for...

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Martin Luther King

Born to lead; born to inspire 
Words he spoke proven true
Of steadfast mind he did aspire 
Burdens cast held like glue           

Humble of spirit; plead his cause  
Violence and hate; he abhorred
Though scorned by men he bore his cross
Path of peace he adored

His heart whispered a time of “doom”
Guiltless blood was required
Dark days peaked, his hour to come soon   
Stars revealed fate’s desire

Quiet moments of dismal sorrow
Dreams did convey courage
Death would bring better tomorrows
Judas’s choice fetched the rage

History keeps the dreadful date
When he died good had won
Evil stirred bowl of hate 
But see what death begun

By Annalise
Note For Craig's "Historical Modified Quatrain" Contest

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dreams or illusions of living in peace and harmony
In thinking about life's problems I didn't come undone
images still float in the wind, music of the Harmonie
The magical dream of people on earth living as one

An adolescent desire of a world with a lasting peace
let us justify a bad decision to stop sowing seeds
or are we nomadic people, living like a flock of geese
Life is following the one in front, unsure of where it leads

with ideas, seeds are sown, establishing a path to peace
Can we transcend innovations, to stop following the flocks
to learn people exchanging views possibilities will increase
listening to people and stop throwing metaphoric rocks

"Yesterday, trouble was distant  life a game to be played"
Our people may be gone, but our past lets us be unafraid
My angel seems far away, but memories will never fade
all dreamers, vying in the game of life will never be swayed

I still believe and long for yesterday

for Beatlemania! contest
of Heather Ober

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Hats Off To You {Vignette}

heart flutters bearing the news
appointed poet laureate
bows comrades honoring name
gift gabble raising thy brows
expectations of nil
inspirations for others

Tribute To Poetry

And To All The Wonderful Poets
Here In The Soup Bowl
I Bow To Each

Also Entry For
Brian Strand's 
Poet Laureate Contest
GL All

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You Go Girl

I know of this gal who's started a diet I wish her much luck in her quest Can't mention her name, she'd be upset But accepts this challenge with zest We know how difficult diets can be One of the hardest things to accomplish But this gal can do it if anyone can Her ultimate success is my wish Once a successful real estate agent Accomplishing that a great feat So losing some pounds should be a snap A lead pipe cinch to complete There are many others in need a boost To start them on their way to skinny An incentive helps to spur them on So once more they can wear a size “mini” Good luck to her and all you others Who've grabbed the bull by the horns The prize at the end is so darn rewarding To wake up feeling great every morn! © Jack Ellison 2013

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And you all thought
that after reaching home,
I would jump in the shower so fast
and off to bed...I'd snooze to end my boredom?

On my lunch hour I take a light nap,
it's beneficial to your health the doctor confidently says;
and should I ever see a scary, black cat
running across my windshield...a nightmare surely begins.

Working hard in a warehouse
with people and forklifts in full swing,
I must be more alert than a mouse
being chased by a bunch of hungry cats drooling.

To sit at my desk and write a poem for a new contest:
is a challenging and rewarding experience for an obscure poet;
and while others sleep and their spirits float in mysterious dreams,
I reflect over the rhetoric language of what life seems. 

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Alone And Blue

The wind whispers through the night
Cool against the mist on my skin
A neon sign that reads "Motel" lights my way
Hundreds more have lit where I've been

This night isn't unlike countless before
Walking endlessly with nowhere to go
I pass a drunk in a doorway
And think "now there's something I know"

All I own is here on my back
And the memories I have of you
Lost everything when you left
Now I walk Alone and Blue

Alone and Blue
Living with memories of you
Alone and Blue
What the hell am I going to do

Alone and Blue
No matter how hard I try
Alone and Blue
You never even told me why

Sometimes I wish it would all end
All the pain and suffering gone
Putting my weary mind at ease
My soul could then carry on

But until then I walk through the mist
That rides upon the whispering winds
And go on hearing your voice
My sanity... I try to defend

Alone and Blue
Living with memories of you
Alone and Blue
Are you lonely too??

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Joyce - Finnegan's Wake

How scenic is phrenetic fantasy 
Which fulminates within the manic mind 
Yet hides inside synaptic revelry, 
Articulated, yes, but hard to find? 

The minor absolution one demands 
From higher born authority than self 
Is often found in foreign sounding lands 
Or back of boxes hiding on the shelf. 

The madness of the mad though sad is not 
Without a nod transcendent, in a way; 
Which forces Joyce to ponder over plot 
And not which punctuation to display. 

Now take your time and read Ulysses first, 
Before the Wake of Finnegan is shown; 
For Finnegan becomes eternal thirst 
Where cognitive resolve remains unknown. 

Now bitter battles still are fought with fire 
In hallowed halls of higher learning fame 
Where academic's fight against desire 
To elevate James Joyce's brilliant name. 

Finnegan's Wake can make a man go mad; 
Incomprehensible at best, some say. 
Such genius has a way of causing sad 
Reverberations all along the way. 

So read a Portrait of the Artist first 
Then add Ulysses if you have the need; 
But Finnegan's Wake - unquenchable thirst 
A book to blow your brain and make it bleed. 

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Fools' Rules (Dedicated to Constance)

* Dedicated to Constance, the Rambling Poet
   Written for her "Follow the Rules" contest
   By Carolyn Devonshire

For simply failing to walk between the road’s white lines‘~~~~ As a teen my sister got a ticket for jaywalking When visiting the library you must remain silent In a country with free speech, what is the crime in talking? Once I heard an alarm bell**** go off while on a jet plane Lordy, you should have seen the commotion in the cabin!#?! A passenger had lit up a smoke in the bathroom And when the plane landed, guards were waiting to arrest him To cars on the right we must yield at an intersection + If nobody moves, what do we do? Wait for Judgment Day? For government insurance we may soon be forced to pay If we can’t afford it, will in debtors’ prison we stay? Watering plants is often restricted when heat ~~~~ comes with drought Are we supposed to watch precious flowers wilt and die? If you take your child to a film, he best not make a sound**** The usher will escort you out if a toddler cries Love thy brother is a commandment from our Creator Throughout history wars have been waged so many times Even the forms of poetry have so many rules We must adhere to syllable counts and even forced rhymes! But the rule that bothers me most is the law of the land Thoreau was sent to jail for refusing to pay taxes :( While some of these rules make sense to me, I don’t understand Why we can’t ignore a few so everyone ~~~~relaxes~~~~
Rules in the poem include: 1) Jaywalking 2) Not talking in libraries 3) Smoking in aircraft bathrooms 4) Yielding right of way 5) Being forced to pay for government-run health insurance 6) Restrictions on watering plants 7) Removing crying babies from theaters 8) Loving thy brother 9) Rules of poetic forms 10) Being required to pay taxes

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The Pen

The pen's a sword for carving poems.
A wand for measuring beats.
A whip to keep the rhythm
and a stick to tap the tweets.

It's silent to the ear-drums
when heard inside the head.
Words firmer than my chin bone
in notes from what seems dead.

It points to things I question
and scribbles errors I make.
And when it writes some new stuff
forgives me my mistake.

At rest upon my paper
it signals that I'm done.
And when I go to grab it
I'll click it just for fun.

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An Ode To My Car

It sits there waiting Never complaining Like a devoted little puppy Do we really appreciate What life would be like Without this friend so trusty We take it for granted This mechanical friend Never showing appreciation We should let it know How we cherish it so Our sole means of transportation There once was a time In years gone by Long before the automobile We walked, we rode A bike or a horse Now just sit there at the wheel So treat this friend Like one of the family You will never ever go wrong Her engine will purr Her tires will sing A happy little motoring song! © Jack Ellison 2012

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Blowing a Kiss To You

Across the miles my kiss blown on the wind, To a poetic friend that I've never seen. He's as funny as heck, and boy, can he rhyme, Of great cowboy poetry, he is the dean. So Mr. Bob , if you feel the breeze on your cheek, It may be a wind blown kiss from BG. And a thanks for all the pleasure you've given, Your one of our best, sure all would agree.
Dedicated to Bob Hinshaw

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The Poem You Can Never Read

Sometimes fear can catch our tongues
Keeping truths enclosed
Barring words to pass the lips
Words leaving us exposed

And maybe that's what's safer
Than what I'm about to do
But we only get one life to live
And in my life, I want you

You've been inside my heart now
For a long time, but I've been
Afraid that it was just me
Just a dream that I was in

But then you came and touched me
And the feelings came alive
But I've still kept them quiet
Waiting for the perfect time

But time keeps ticking past us
And perfect, time is not
And life goes on without you here
And this isn't what I want

You won't believe how great you are
Well when you're viewed by me
You're really unbelievable
I just wish that you would see

I've seen you become a man
In the years you've been around
I've seen you go through many things
Seen you be up, and then down

I've seen you fight for who you love
I've seen you win and loose
I've seen you go through hard things
I've seen you have to choose

I've seen how you remember
Little silly things each day
That means so much more to me
Than I could even say

I know we come from different worlds, 
But thats alright by me
I know that there are obstacles
Probably more than I could see

I think I'd go a thousand miles
If I could end up in your arms
You see, you broke through my hearts barriers
Leaving me disarmed

As many things as you are
One thing that you're without
Is eyes to see how much I care
I guess I'll have to spell it out

My heart wants to be with you
For us to have our chance at love
And maybe it would work out
To be all we've both dreamed of

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If I am who I say I am,
And what I claim to be,
It won't be hard to figure out,
My actions tell the story.

I cannot sit 'midst muck and mire,
And claim it isn't so.
I can't ignore the things I'm taught,
And say I'm trying to grow.

I cannot sway this way and that,
And still expect to see,
The same old trust,respect and love,
That once was given freely.

If I'm to keep that love in tact,
It must be guarded fiercely;
Else I may find that love will die,
From being nourished poorly;

For I am what I wish to be,
It's no one's fault but mine.
I cannot blame what I have done,
On some mistake in time;

So if I wish my friends to see,
The dignity I claim,
I cannot hide it deep inside,
While I play foolish games.

                                                                           Living Bible  James 1:26

Living Bible  James 1:27

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As Cherubs go he is the king.
A little angel being.
One sent by God to speed up things
between the ones we're seeing.

With bow in hand and arrow drawn.
His quiver laden full.
He takes good aim and hits the spot
with just a little pull.

There's hope for Johnny and for Jane
with live's a little dull.
That if they're special and polite
their passions will not lull.

So have your fun and craziness
and play the lover's game.
But know that one looks out for you
with cupid as his name.

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Old Coffee

I'll only charge you fifty cents.
Here, take back the change.
It's old and you won't like it much.
It tastes a little strange.

Thankyou much, but I don't care.
I'll even drink it old.
Please take back your quarters
despite my being told.

No; you take for fifty cents.
I'd rather you do that.
Please take back your quarters
and pay two quarters flat.

Thankyou Sally, that's okay.
You're generous to a tee.
Just fifty cents sounds much too good,
but I will pay your fee.

Go now please; you waste my time.
Please; just take my deal.
The library must have kicked you out
upon your back and heel.

The library's open still to say
I'm only out of time.
The computer simply timed me out
and no one's sorry as I'm.

Come back later if you want
and  you can pay full price.
The coffee will be fresher then
and cost for you suffice.

It's okay Sally
Thanks again.
We'll talk more with you later.
and I will see you -then.

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There Will Come A Time

There came a time, When you was a baby boy. Nestled in the womb, Through the dark, I knew your voice. If we had ever gotten to meet, I knew your warmth would’ve had charm. I’ve dreamt of holding you, ‘til you fell asleep, Within the confines of these arms. I wanted to be blessed by your life, But that dream did not come to pass. Through that weakest moment in my life, I had to grow up so fast. So here I boldly am, Missing that little reflection of me. Walking the world abroad, Thinking of you, hoping you’re thinking of me. But there will come a time, When we’ll get to laugh, play, and run. And on that distant, verdant horizon, I shall walk with you, my son.

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Fallen Angels

So much pain
Innocent lives lost
Separation from spirit
Now evident, the cost

Blame will be easy
Anger, quick to rise
Unite must we all
For peace, no compromise

Understand may we never
What drives such evil minds
Heal must we now
To each other, be kind

Hate may come quickly
Justified by most
Reach out where you can
Turn tragedy to hope

Find in yourself
Strength to carry light
For together we are strong
Brighter future still in sight

Hold tight those you love
Honor those today lost
Be the change you seek
A bridge together, we can cross

* Dedicated to those lost and those left behind – December 14,th 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School
Newtown, Connecticut *

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Thy Birthday 2K11

O Ima - this day be thy special day, Mayst thou hast joy as smile upon thy face. For I've not cake nor candles for thy day; Only kind prayers hoping they'll find there place.

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The Clerk

I've shown my work to others
who rate it for themselves.
The feeble simply love it.
The intricate act like elves.

The wise man gets behind it
encouraging me to write.
It's only when the humble;
thank me that it's right.

My works in many countries.
Each nation reading from it.
Trading new ideas
when words to thoughts become it.

It has a narrow following.
Yet; larger than did once.
I wonder what is popular.
I wonder if I'm dunce.

I know I'm getting better.
I think I like my work.
I envy what I've written.
Like someone elses clerk.

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                 I BLESS HIS SUCCESS

If a father’s success can be measured by that of his son
Then with certainty I am as successful as anyone
If a father’s job ends when his son is a success
Then I have a victory to openly confess

I look at a man and see the man I would have liked to become
I am brimming over with utter pride and then some
My son has taught me humility and the meaning of self-esteem
And has brought to fruition every father’s ultimate dream

If I am not the man that I had planned to be
but at least I can say my son has done much more than me
He continues to astound me with every passing day
By how he gives back to the world in every way

If a man’s character can be gauged by that of his son
Than this father has as much character as anyone
Although he has no real reason to be proud of me
I am more than proud of the man he’s come to be
     clarence darrow opined that the sins of a father fall on the shoulders of his am I glad that didn't hold true for you!

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Ah had a aulder bruther whin ah wis wee, ah wis five then an' he -wis nine yea see. A tendid tae follow him aboot, bit bein' aulder he widnae care a hoot. Aw jings a remember wan day at school, oot o' ma pocket ma hankie a bullyboy did pull. Whit arrrr' yea cryin' fur? Ma brother Jack did say, that big bullyboy pinched ma hankie whin ah wis at play. Noo bein' aulder an' bigger he set aboot his bloke, at furst the bloke thocht it wis a joke. Bit no fur lang whin Jack grabbed this blokes wee wee parts, the bully bloke screamed an' had an involuntary fart:) Weel a gote ma hankie back an' it stoaped me fidgin', as that bullyboy bloke walked away haudin' his Nether region" Naw ma bruther wis no fond o' playin' wae me, bit he wid a'ways protect me tae the Nth degree. Whin a wis Nine an' ma bruther wis thirteen. Jack wis a'ways oot an' never tae be seen, Wan day ma faither came hame frae his workin' day. "Alex" he shouted oot the windae , cum in this minit frae play. Jings, crivens he wis in a blidy angry mood, a wid hiv ran a mile if a possibly could. Did you burn aw those window curtains doon? a looked up at the windae an' blidy swooned. The curtains wir hingin' wae a wee bit charcoaly thread, oh crivens a wished as wis blidy dead, No me faither, naw it wisnae me, jist then, at that moment, ah hid an' involuntary pee. The door opened an' Jack came in, his face white as if he had done a terrible sin. Sorry faither it wisnae Alex that done this horrible deed, oh so sorry faither I wis stupid, Jack did 'onestly plead. It wis me as ah flicked a lighted match, oan blidy fire those curtains did catch. Aw a kid dae wis tae pull them doon oan the flair, an' smuther the flames wae the back o' that there chair. Noo , faither dinae explode,--- at aw, even efter aw whit he had saw. Faither said. Twa things saved yea Jack ma lad, an' fur those twa things you should be glad. First wan, yea admitted yer firey crime, saved yer wee bruther frae a hell o' a time. Second wan wis yer presence o' mind, actin' sae quickly whin yea were in a terrible bind. So ma lad, thank you for being so quick an' true, no punishment but a reward for you is due. Sadly for me noo baith have gone, but niver have lights so brightly shone:) The Auld Yin.

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My Magic Carpet Ride

Sitting side by side we soar above Gone the trials and troubles of this life Carolyn and I on a carpet of dreams Each letting go of all pain and strife Over the vast blue sea our carpet flies Enchanting us in its moonlight flight We drink deep from the cup of friendship Awash in the serenity of this night My Magic Carpet Ride would be with Carolyn Devonshire...she's not feeling well ... I know she loves the sea... Barbara Gorelick

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Morning Read

There must be something in the water
I've read many great poems today
Other poets have the answers
They know exactly what to say

I desire to find the words
I wish to comment on how I feel
I'm immersed in their emotions
All of these feelings are so real

Words are laid out upon a page
Carefully crafted from a heart
Nothing short of amazing
I witness their works of art

When read the words will come to life
No longer just locked in a line
The words are meant for everyone
Still they are favorites of mine.

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The Poets Brush

Lord help me write and paint my words

My Lord My Lord, I say to you this night
Help me now, help me write

Paint my words to help me guard!

Help me to paint the stars.
Paint my life to share the hearts

Ah the silent presence that many know so well
All hungry for life to tell

As we understand the universe 
There will be but a few to survive the strokes

Help me go deeper in my little corner
To paint my brush as a Poet:

The tears we cried
The love we have known

The blood that’s been shed
The hearts been broken

Is just a few of the brush strokes 
Of this little poet;

Little Brooke that I am
I can’t compare to the great Bronte

Or the most famous Emily Dickinson
The best of the best Ernest Hemingway

Especially fabulous Keats
And what can we say of Shakespeare?

I say to you my dear. 
The Frost of winter or the writer;

And oh my stars 
There is Robert Louis Stevenson

To brush your words with the paint of life
To touch our souls with your light

To kiss the stars of the night
To remember

David in the book of Psalms and 
Solomon Song of Solomon, to name a few.
To love the best of yourself;

How dare me I say?
How dare I stay?

Give me your pictures on the wall
The smallest of the small;

A membrane today;
I don’t know

But what would you say?
To a Poets Brush for this day;

Dedicated to all the poets on Soup..

Brooke Dylan 2014

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Sally Perk Your Coffee Pot

Please don't ask for coffee
when only a few will buy.
I'd rather not put on a pot
than leave it to burn dry.

So Sally won't perk coffee now.
It's not the time of day.
And me a patient gentleman
asks for tea this way:

"Sally; put the coffee on"
Sally will say "No"!
And then I'll take a cup of tea
and on my way I'll go.

Sometimes I will get some luck
and Sally serves my wants.
After all; there's too much tea
than this whole world flaunts.

So Sally perk your coffee pot.
I see it's getting busy.
The time has come for you to shine
and free me from this tizzy.

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Rose for PD

Today I'm sending just one perfect rose
It's beauty to be savored on it's own
Each petal a gown of  brilliant color
This special one for you and you alone...

Beauty of a dozen to be enjoyed
But as individuals you both shine
The rose a symbol of your loving ways
A poetic heart, unique and so very fine

Barbara Gorelick 1/8/12
dedicated to PD..for her contest...

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Eileen has nicknamed me Kenny Because of my resemblance to Mr. Rogers Wish I had his piles of dough though I'd sure be a happy old codger Methinks she means before his facelift At least that's what I hope she meant It made him look like a real different person Not as charming in any event So I'll take it that's what she really meant When Kenny was young and virile Instead of this ageing singer of songs Fame can be fleeting and so fragile Mr. Rogers can still belt out a love song With than familiar rasp in his voice For over four decades he been charming us Was everyone's favourite choice So I really don't mind the nickname Kenny A compliment is how I take it Eileen could have nicknamed me Bela As Dracula I never would have made it © Jack Ellison 2013

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A New Place For Sun

Maybe there'll come a day in the future When tourists flock to Canada for fun They say that Florida will no longer exist Ontario will be the new place for sun Weather patterns certainly changed a lot For about the last decade or two Recent patterns can be a bit unnerving Big changes for me and you Should we assume this is the new norm Just try our best to get used to it Or is it a glitch and we'll soon return To the way it was as kidlets It's what the predictors of global warming Would have us believe to be true I'm skeptical about this dire assessment My thoughts... how about you? It's sure not too late to turn things around With dedication and will of us all So let's get onboard, let's all do our part Let's show 'em and answer the call © Jack Ellison 2013

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Is It

In dark shadows I see a fleeting glimpse,
A girl with long blonde hair and eyes of blue,
I glance again and she is gone from sight,
And I wonder if, if that girl is you.

Is it the girl, who claimed my heart as hers,
One winter’s day while dancing through the town?
The girl who showed me the meaning of love
While making me smile by acting the clown.

But I know it is mere wishes and dreams,
My cold mind knows my love cannot be there,
Now she dances with the moon and the stars,
As the gods hold her safely in their care.

Some days I feel so alone without you,
Without the love that held me close each night,
So I look into the shadows again
To see that smile and know all will be right.

Form: Sicilian Quatrains

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Know the Desires of My Heart

Life lessons learned through experience
In an undesired fashion
Learning to give up worldly ways
To obtain a Godly passion

My hearts desire was fulfilled
For only a short amount of time
Only after did I notice not all is good
And worldly gain loses its prime

My soul cries out for comfort
Down my face tears graze
All along I should've searched for the One
By Trusting, Worshiping, and Praise

My heart should be so full of joy
And passion for my Savior
That when a man comes into my life
I know it's God doing me a favor

I pray for strength daily
Strength to know my worth and judge not
For the only way to true happiness
Is to seek what Jesus sought

So I ask for God to motivate me
To teach me patience, understand my thoughts
With time I'll know to appreciate unanswered prayers
Instead of examining the 'it oughts"

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Rastafari certainly was a young man of magnificent talent indeed...
He praised God, as Abraham did, in his chant and dance with true glee,
Bob Marlyn and Peter Posh helped him become a raggae star;
some folks thought he was crazy with those long, braided hair.

Since ninenteen-seventy when hippies abounded,
and revolted against the American Government with protest...
Rastafari wrote great songs of many themes for the oppressed
and poor who were denied civil liberties in their own land.

Listen to those songs, feel the vibrant beat in the his unique music
and walking in his shoes you can sing with him and become his friend,
because Rasatfari dreamed of seeing all peoples embrace around the troubled world...
has he died in vain or left an indelible legacy for those adoring his everlasting beat?

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Feelings tingle like icy-hot
No returning this clearance life we've bought
The gun may be loaded but you've only got one shot
Always placing first, even before your second thought

Showing off like I'm in real estate
Don't fence me in, you can't match my gait
Try to upscale you ain't carrying your weight
I'm in the charts, check my growth rate

Call me Mrs. Lee cause I be making dough
Son, I'm the coldest, 30 below
You get the picture, Vincent Van Gogh
Steady climbin to the top, no plateau

I'll help you open doors, got that master key
Original work, you're just the carbon copy, cc
Go ahead and follow, no sign-up fee
I'm goin places, 3 out of 4 pros agree.

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A New Page

The old page has been crammed, used up and torn Its million pieces scattered, tossed out in the wind Each beautiful memory reserved; errors, I rescind Not worthy of preservation, keenly I did burn Memories of a few special ones who conferred love With stunning new “songs” enriching my life They live in me, as they were sent from above Forever in my heart until the end of all strife! A new page lies open, crisp, and fresh as morning dew! Like a child, I am curious of what will be written today That is so deliberate, unfair, and that would not do For I trust my Maker; whose gifts require no defray And I’ve made no new resolutions, no promises I can not keep Instead, will try living each day in the spirit; a higher place To praise, love, laugh, dance; yes, cry, when paths turn steep Strive to be joyful not by my will; surely by divine grace ~**~
01-01-2011 Note: Thanks for your love, true friendship, caring-you know who you are..These I will forever cherish in our unbreakable bond.

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Father, Grandfather

I can remember in your arms
I saw you as a grown up me
Now I have your looks and charm
That you are not right here to see

You left this Earth when I was young
I understand you had to leave
And understand my day will come
To leave the ones who're after me

Just like the one who brought you here
That gave to you his very name
I see it all so crystal clear
After you left he still remained

He took the role of father and
Grandfather to his own son's son
Then left this cruel Earth a man
To live again beyond the sun

When my time has come I will be
Everything that both of you are
To me to my own lil' kiddies
I'm hoping it will take them far

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Having only mere minutes to skim your sighs,                 
anesthetize the tip of your unseemly thoughts...        
with platitudes for quandaries which fly bye,  
we are so much more than frail flowers you have wrought.

We are the breeze, the muse, the bringer, the envoy          
lending at days end, the tenderest bits of heart
as on the keys or sewing clothing seams with joy  
our fingers never rest 'till days end, from days start.

Our hands grace the garden beds smudged with chlorophyll
and our arms wrap about a naughty childlike pet
then come to rest behind a trusty Parker's quill
for we give so much more with love and no regret.

Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest:"I'm More Then What you Thought"

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Mary Ann Dow Stuart Gardiner

My Mother Mary Ann Dow Gardiner Mary Ann Dow Stuart wis her maiden name, Noo, she wisnae a Scoatish Lass o' fame. Born in nineteen hunner an' five on the fifth o' May. gorgeous she wis' at oany time o' the day. Like aw Mums, she wis a'ways there, nae ither Mum a ken kin 'onestly compare. Noo am no telling yea ivery instance o' her life, An' let's say, tae ma faither Jack she wis the perfict wife. Wan instance in time with you I wid like tae share, aye durin' WWII ma an' me hid quite a scare. It wis a chapter in ma life as a wee wee boy, stull in ma nappies an' playin' wae toys. We lived in a twa roomed tenement flat, six folks an' Bonny wee Tibby the cat. Noo the oanly way tae hiv a bath, wis in a tin wan ,which wis three foot wan inch, an' a half. Noo this bath wis oanly fur this wee lad yea see, an' it wis dragged oot in front o' the windae jist afore tea. Noo tea in oor hoose wis aboot six o'clock at night, an' a luved ma bath an' niver pit up a fight. It wis oan a very dark an' a very quiet winter's night, aye the night Ma an' me hid a terrible blidy fright. Suddenly we were in the middle o' a German air-raid, the smile oan ma ma's face quickly began tae fade. She climbed up oan the bunkers sink tae hiv a look, twa seconds she's up there that's aw it took. Pulled back the blackoot tae see the night sky, oh my god ma ma let oot this fearsum' cry. She heard the whistle o' a German Bomb startin' tae fall, an' she thocht it might jist pay us twa a call. The whistle o' that fearsum bomb got louder then stopped, ma mum fell backwards an' oan tap o' this wee boy did flop. Aye, right oan tap o' this wee naked Body in the said tin bath, wan minit her scream an' that enormous crash. That's why noo I hiv a flat head an' am eternally daft, naw folks a dinny blame yea fur hivin' a laff. It's funny noo but no fur mum at that time, jings droapin' bombs oan wummin an' wee bairns is surely a terrible crime, As fur that Gerry bomb it did land wae a lot of malice, jist up the road in Edinburgh's Holyrood palace. The Auld Yin.

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The sweetest things I've ever known
Is both of my grandmothers' love
I'm still their baby though I'm grown
To hear their voice would be enough

To count the times I think of you
Would be seventy times seven
When it is my dream come true
I'm seeing you both in Heaven

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I Want to Go By Train

Kicked out of a theater for the twenty-sixth time, the owner suggested to the highest building in town they should climb. From there, throw yourselves down to the street. Their act was considered both putrid and effete. It was discovered three beautiful women also came. Hilda, Wilda, and Tilda they were called by name. These girls didn’t seem to have anything to hide. In a similar situation, they contemplated suicide. As all six of them were ready to go, there was somebody mysteriously playing a piano. The man playing the instrument was a millionaire. He often played in isolation in the open rooftop air. The man thought this sextet had talent that was not bad. He hired all of them to star in a musical that he had. However, the stooges and female company once again tasted defeat. The man was insane and bound for Dr. Dippy’s Retreat. Based on the Columbia Pictures short subject “Rhythm and Weep” starring the Three Stooges.

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Missing Bellies

“All Points Bulletin”... be on the lookout
For Jackers' rotund belly
It's been missing for almost six months now
Watch “Missing Bellies” on your telly

Wiggles and jiggles like a bowl full of Jelly
Bouncing up and down, side to side
Little kiddies are always bugging their Moms
To ask Mr. Jackers for a ride

It's just my way of describing the impact
Losing weight had on my psyche
Upbeat and ready to meet all life's challenges
Now wearing my hair all spiky

It surely can be a life changing experience
Walk around with a confident air
Tossing red roses to the curious onlookers
With a feeling of devil may care

Can imagine the mental picture you're having
Must be pretty strange I would guess
My life has become exciting once again
Next week I'm on 'Meet The Press'

“All Points Bulletin”... if you see Jackers' belly
Ignore it, he doesn't want it back
He's doing just fine but thanks anyway
He's finally on the right track

© Jack Ellison 2012

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Sleep Will Come By Soon

Far away seems closer
When we're under the same moon.
When I think of it that way,
The distance doesn't loom.

Miles seem more like inches
When we're under the same stars.
When we're sharing the same dreams,
I feel you right inside my heart.

It doesn't seem so lonely
When I close my eyes just right -
And I can feel your arms around me,
Holding me so tight.

I don't miss you quite as much
When you visit in my sleep.
Even when the bad dreams come,
When you're there I don't make a peep.

When I can feel you closest,
Besides when you are here,
Is when I know you miss me too -
And you're wishing I was near.

So close your eyes my darling,
And picture me with you.
Wrap your arms around me
And sleep will come by soon.

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A Tribute: to Ganel Gibbs Nee Johnson

In case you wonder why time is past and keep going by
Since last we spoke again, it is my way to retain
Some pride of memory, not crumbling the mind's eye
Like old newspaper stained and littering the drain

I would still read your news don,t get me wrong, I'm sure
No history written now can blot that splendid brow
That nurtured me and cure the heart waves on its shore
Restlessly beating to the flow of what we did not know

Each morning fresh I came to your school to help tame
The brute in all the brats and me, we sang the rats
That took cheese and all, flame our love for life's game
Making a child that's contented so, a show of stats

A better man, a better woman held by reins of our letter
And figure in the dust of chalk, and your bright talk
Of praise each while unfetter my heart's invisible teeter 
The sleeping genius that sparked and was embarked

Away from dusty floor to earn the prize of something more
And after all that circling we again return time dizzy  
Washed out and beyond restore from chalk dreams galore
And you on the phone, a glee glints in wheezy memory

Not this my heart to endure, not this on the gritty shore
Still gold and fresh, and yet we with rasping breath
Did not even rip the oar full way. Silence loves you more
For all you gave than wet morns more than we forget.

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...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 

Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent to those who praised and scorned, 
ever striving for perfection, 
friends were used and heroes mourned. 

A man at odds with bland conventions, 
drunk, debauched, yet tried and true, 
companionship oft cold and faithless 
fostered with a dockside crew. 

On a ship, confused and homeless, 
wandering, he yearned for ease, 
the ocean summoned this poor vagrant, 
in its depths he found his peace. 

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Free To Disagree. Inspired By ' Free To Be Me."

There was this pristine poetess
who signed off: " Light and Love."
with the rocket plunge of osprey
and the soft cadence of a dove.

She grips each adverb tightly
measures out the slightest verb.
" You really need to think this out."
" Oh, You must be from the 'burb."

She rails at broken rhyme schemes.
She despises gauche haiku.
She does all this defending ART:
that excludes this one by you.

She is up and down each contest.
" They don't appreciate my style!"
Such is the life of a feisty Muse.
as she leaves you with a smile.

Now she's working out another,
yet before she says: " Goodbye!"
" I think that last line's off a bit"
" and now let me tell you why!"

I went to the source, as it were. I imagine sulfur in my Soup Mail tonight...

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Obsessively Yours

If you don’t like intensity
Then you better listen to me
Go back to your playhouse, boy
And kindly just let me be.

I’m past the little sweet talk
And I’m past the flirting stage
If you’re unused to passion
Then don’t get caught in my cage

I love with insanity
That borders on obsession
Stop giving mixed signals
Or I’ll make this bold confession

I dream about you all the day
And you’re my fantasy at night
If you knew how I adore you
It’s sure to give you quite a fright

I’m no weakling in the love game
I can fight, destroy, and seize
Anyone who dares look at you
I will torture just as I please

You are what keeps my soul alive
Your smile sets my heart ablaze
When you give that knowing look
I can’t fight back desire’s craze

I’ll be at your beck and call
Fulfill each desire and whim
You’ll have food that’s made in heaven
I’ll fill your love cup to the brim

I want to lie down beside you
See you drift to dream land sweet
I’ll plant kisses on your lips
Till the morning sun you greet

I’m consumed by thoughts of you
And when you’re near I’m set on fire
My days are spent in wistful thought
You’re my only true desire.

I wish that you would want me
In the self-same frenzied way
That gives no chance for sleep at night
Nor restful peace during the day

So if this is all, just way too much
And you feel you might suffocate
Then let me give you freedom, child
I need a man to reciprocate!

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Ode to Robert Frost repost

I think I may have walked with him
and talked  of life and simple things.
We mended walls together, and then
talked of poetry and what it brings..

He told me how his life unfolded
and how the words began to flow.
How promises that he made, he kept,
described the woods filled up with snow..

I stood with him that day in Washington
and so proudly held his aging hand,
as he spoke about the Gift Outright
and hopes for JFK in our troubled land...

This lovely dream of mine I cherish.
His words speak directly to my heart ;
Of common man and treasured places,
he was a quiet man, a man apart.....

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Student's Descent

with apologies to E. A. Poe...

Student Descent

At first the chamber's gentle rapping could not my slumber even stir,
but as it came to be a tapping sonorous visions were to be no more.
And as I stumbled in the darkness, I heard her voice distinctly cry
"O Ed your offer reconsidered will now with me an evening buy!"

Femininity with such harsh bravado, what lady offers such taboo affairs?
I've read of men, weak in the loin, who fall into such infectious snares.
Flesh's joys can wait, I've got to study, for school has such quick paces
and as a student of the arts, time's robbed me of all social graces

Alas, I dream of that day of bliss, but now Ed's the man and I'm the other.
I ask her name and Eleanor is given, by her, but certainly not her mother.
"He's not here, in fact, I don't know him." I utter with a boy's tone.
"Well I'm still here, and you're awake, and so am I and all alone."

My thoughts arranged like a card deck dropped, and left with such a feeble mind.
Should I ignore this dream, or is it real? Behind the door what will I find?
A gentleman would let her in, at least she'd have safe haven.
But to my shock with doors pullled wide, there's nothing but a raven...

Now I'm not mad, but this is odd, as a women spoke, not a bird at my feet,
so I sprint to my room, bury my head...but now it's clear...the wooden floor's
got a beat...

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He steals across the courtyard,
an ardent lover anxious to surprise,
edging ever forward, 
with fiery consummation as his prize.

His blushes blossom bright and hot,
as he lays forth his course and his intent,  
ever nearer to the trellises,
the shadows shrink, now no impediment. 

At his zenith he is seen by all,
the blessed sphere on full display,
inviting those who stand in awe
to pray, and then be on their way.

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                                 SMOKEY AND THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER

Once when I was just a kid,
My mom thought 'twould be nice,
If I'd invite some friends to play,
And we could swing outside.

I had a swing set in the yard,
Where I would play for hours.
My daddy built it just for me,
Away from Mommy's flowers.

It stood beneath a large Oak tree,
And even had a sand box.
We played and swung and had a ball,
Got sand in clothes and socks.

Our neighbors had a big red dog,
A loyal, patient friend,
Prince often came to play with us,
He wagged his tale and grinned.

Another dog came on the scene,
And Prince was not amused,
They postured and they sniffed each other,
A dog fight soon ensued.

We screamed and cried and climbed the set,
As Prince and dog fought on,
Smokey heard our frantic cries,
And raced across the lawn.

Prince was huge with big white teeth,
And muscles big and stocky,
But Smokey feared him not and leaped,
And rode him like a jockey.

Smokey sank his claws in deep,
With teeth he grabbed his neck,
The big dog took off down the street,
With Smokey firmly set,

Upon his back, he rode him well,
They soon were out of sight,
We worried that he might get hurt,
In yet another fight;

But he came strolling home real soon,
The hero of the day.
"Don't worry kids', he seemed to say,
He won't be back today."

                                                               Judy Ball
For Fraqncine Roberts Pick A Pet Contest - July4,2011

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Time tells us we've not long
Except my time with you
Moments slow down and I hold on
To all my time spent with you

I know we have our ways
That hinder us from letting go
And clinging to just each other
For fear that heartache will show

But baby please understand when I say
You've captured me heart and soul
Your inner strength and emotion send chills down my spine
My affection for you can only grow

I want us to be happy
Consistently day by day
Let's work through any issues
And hear what each other intends to say

Actions speak louder than words
And my actions will prove true
Just give me your trust and devotion
I'll do nothing but respect and honor you

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Read It and Heed It

read it and heed it this is my warning
take what you want but reap what you sow
is eternity worth the price
for what you think you may know

you've given up on your life, your dreams
you're left here standing hollowed
where the strong have lead
the weak have surely followed

this body is your vessal
this life is your open sea
your hate and contempt shall leave you shackled
forgiveness, this is truth, shall set you free

this is my warning i heed unto thee
you came into this life with good intent
yet the life you lead is far more tainted
to free thy soul thine must repent

love your family for we are all but one
do unto others as ye be done
try to be happy...
life is meant to be fun.

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It is so difficult to write about one's beliefs, 
On the Freedoms and Liberty we have.
Throughout our history events are replete,
Of the ones who have died, our Freedoms to save.

I go back in time when I look at our past,
And wonder if our children will see.
The pain and strife born in Freedom's birth,
And the lives that have been sacrificed for Liberty.

The Revolution started all the fuss,
When King George wanted his taxes.
It got us the Freedom we used for all,
And lives to this day when we talk of the "Evil of Axis".

We've had to fight as a people united,
By cause, or strife, or enemy attack.
From 1812 to Afghanistan,
For Freedom and Liberty to stay on track.

There have been too many wars,
And battles in name have never been few.
Like Chateau Thierry, Iwo Jima, and even Tet,
Where our countrymen have paid their dues.

We have had the plights of other concerns, 
That many around the world don't construe,
As a helping hand to all of them,
Except when they need us to.

Some say "Why send an Aircraft Carrier to a blighted zone,
Where people need all kinds of medical support"?
They forget that one of those ship is a floating city in itself,
With aircraft, hospitals, doctors, and our country's flag it will sport.

Then there is the overwhelming clamor,
Of those who want to come here to live and stay.
They know so little of our history,
Only that Freedom and Liberty is our way.

They want that Freedom for themselves as well,
And a Liberty which will let them choose.
They see us as a beacon then,
When their own freedoms they all but lose.

Life, Liberty, The Pursuit of Happiness,
The words our Founding Fathers swore...
Are Actions we take for granted each day,
With the Freedoms which we adore.

What does Freedom and Liberty mean?
It's just as plain as plain can be.
Because I want the Liberty to live my life,
And have the Freedom to wear it on my sleeve.

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Pride of my life

Pride of my life

As that night in July filled me with pride,
no matter your cries and all your stenches.	
Vowing that you forever I shall guide,
through thick and thin, all hunches and punches.

Cutest toddler I never had to chide,
with all your curls got stuck under benches.
Education you took well in your stride,
all those whorl doodles now turned to sketches.

On emotional charm you seem to glide
with your fine pearls and wardrobe of wedges.
One day you will be a beautiful bride
where is the Earl that will meet your pledges?

For you my love I will always provide,
even through all the twirls and the dredges. 
As that night in July filled me with pride,
and forever softened all my edges

Dedicated to my daughter S.J

The first time I heard this song I thought he was saying all your curls and all your edges, so I started singing this to my daughter as all your curls and all your wedges.  So when F.J. came up with the contest I had to write this poem.

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I had him since birth
He was mine for eight or nine years
Until that fateful night 
Then He was gone

He was jet black
I called him "Dark Lightning"
He ran so fast
Then He was gone

He was my life
I treasured ev'ry day
That I was with him
Then He was gone

He was protecting my dad
From all those bad men
They put a gun to his head
Then He was gone

I miss Fritz so much....... my baby puppy....

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They Know Not What They Are

And if they know not what they do
The lonely weary souls
Who share the common goal
Imbibe a sense of disbelief

They wander aimless through and through
Panic stricken sullen
Risen and the fallen
Reality obscured by grief

To make amends from me to you
My proposition is
Give solace and forgive
What timeless would consider brief

End excursion black and blue
In the deepest ocean
Swim through tears forgotten
The joy we'll feel from such relief

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She'll take a tincture of time and teach you
she'll take you to a realm where she'll reach you
she'll take that time and education then mix them
together as one
and won't stop until her mission of mercy is done

warm up a glass of brandy
or open a box of candy
look at an old family picture in brown sienna
and you've got the loveliness and sweetness of Vienna

nay, not the country but Vienna Bombardieri
and her poetry will make you smile or teary
you can bring problems home from work at night
but her words will make the evening bright

when you feel unnecessary or useless as can be
she'll lift your spirits poetically
I can't count the times her countenance has compelled me
and if only, in friendship, could she have held me

this then is Vienna as I know her to be
she dispenses smiles, hopefulness and joy all for free
she's a unique and intelligent woman with whom I love to spar
but to me she's all that and a newly discovered Heaven's star
            © 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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Swallowing sickness
Perfecting the pain
Reaping my happiness
The killer not slain

Don’t leave me begging
I won’t be left on my knees
Stay here evermore 
Time forever will freeze

I feel you in my mind
This sick, gray place
I reach out to touch you
All I find is dark space

The music of your language
Changing my cynical heart
Your glorious mind
Discerns the eminence of art

But such a distance
Leaves great detriment in my soul
Knowing time keeps us apart
Leaves my existence a saturnine hole

Just promise you’ll think of me
I will wait outside
Tally days on the wall
Till the sentence subsides

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You Don't Want to Love Me

You don’t want to love me,
You’re scared of giving in.
Just don’t want to take the leap -
Because of where you’ve been.

You don’t want to love me -
Because it’s far too real.
Because you know how hard you’d fall,
If you let yourself feel.

You don’t want to love me,
You’re scared you’re not enough.
You think we would fall apart
When times in life got tough.

You don’t want to love me,
I’m too close of a friend.
I’m different than the others -
Territory where you’ve never been.

In all your reasons not to,
In pushing me away,
In denying how you feel -
I think you’ve loved me every day.

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...inspired by M by Seamus Heaney

Her cranium, its bumps and hollows
cradles secrets stored beneath,
neurons firing, never tiring
of their journeys to belief.

Thin vibrations mold, embolden,
prophecies, cunabula
suffuse the soul, engage the spirit
of the tortured Akhmatova.

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To Veterans All Over the World

(In celebration of Veterans Day, allow me this sentimental poem.)

Seems no higher thing existed
Than the mud on my shoes
For no other sight I beheld,
Trudging this gruel on these blisters

No one was ever for war
But war is what found me
Politics aside, those voices are far,
Doing right is all I need

Somewhere someday maybe
My hunger will cease,
And smiles of gratitude I’ll receive
On behalf of my friends, deceased

My needs are simple enough now
But no civilian will ever share
This weight of humanity grand and foul
Well, duty and honor is all I care

I’ll get through this just to see
How precious one life can be
My life for yours, my sweat for your tears
That’s just the way I can be all that I can be.

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The King of Hearts (Tribute to an ill friend)

Arnie's been on my mind all week
Our class valedictorian
His cancer discovered too late
Little time now lays before him

He asked to see friends one more time
This meek request heard nationwide
From North, South and West all will fly
So many flocking to his side

Treating us all as his equals
A genius graced our high school halls
And when a tutor was needed
Arnie always answered the calls

His intellect was much admired
But it was his humility
Added to his warm, welcome smile
That gave him popularity

And as we gather together
From lives that have drawn us apart
We thank the Lord for knowing him
He is our high school's King of Hearts

Friends, I am flying to NJ this week to join at least 30 other classmates who can't wait to see 
our dear valedictorian again.  He is a loving husband and father and I hope you will say 
prayers for him and his family.

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I'm a man who goes through time
by toasting away the present.
I'll neither wine or dine
unless I'm seen a peasant.

I'll raise my glass to health:
to fortune and good faith.
I'll cherish those with laughter
who love me without scathe.

I'll heed a joyful dancer
who floats my spirit close.
And thank the God above
for grace in greater dose.

To bed I'll say my prayers.
The futures in my hands.
...but thanks goes to the lord
who includes me in his plans.

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The many Faces of You

Your eyes maybe small and deep set
But so piercing are their look
They maybe dark as the deep sea
But their shine and sincerity are my hook.

Your face is open like the sky
On which a canvas has been animated
It denounces a soul so alive
A mind so wide, a spirit so liberated.

Your look opens up a view
Of a will connected to the divine
Strong, unwavering around the truth
Beheld by a heart warm like the sunshine.

The lines around your face
Denote a life devoted to all
Sometimes rising in humorous waves
Either in amazement or having a ball.

Other times so very serious
with deep concerns, suffering
with those whose suffer, furious
At the evil forces that today cause such enmity.

Your face is like the book of life
A tapestry of many colors
That shows me what heaven is like
A portrait imprinted on my mind forever. 

By CarolineCecile
Copyright © 04.17.10

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Orange Busses

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

I remember orange busses
if I'm showing my age.
When Sudbury's fleet
was the best and the rage.

I remember them coming
while I stood at the stop.
They were bright, they were bold
and the colour went pop.

I remember them ending
when the day finally came,
when it seemed one was left
by the highway in fame.

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Fela Kuti,a Maverick

A legend who created the Afro-beat,
Sent to read medicine,but opted for  music,
Advocator for the poor,who refuses defeat,
He uses his music to strengthen his physique.

He fought against corruption by leaders
A legend who created the Afro-beat,
His songs traveled like an eagle with strong feathers,
To correct the ills in the society is no mean feat.

He lost many things in his struggle for bright lit,
homeless,orphans and poor he feeds and elevated,
A legend who created the Afro-beat,
He was tortured,imprisoned and humiliated.

Many tried to weaken him by making comments which are oblique,
Yet,he remained an ambassador for good work and seat,
The father of Yabis and king of the Talakuta republic,
A legend who created the Afro-beat.

*A quatrain with a refrain in line 1 of verse 1;line 2 of verse 2;line 3 of verse 3 and line 4 of verse 4....
*Yabis-means making jest of people,government and situations of life.This was created by Fela Anikulapo Kuti.He also named his shrine Talakuta republic where he entertained people/fans with his music before he died....

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Yo-Yo Dieting

Is yo-yo dieting always inevitable Is it apart of who we all are Sure wish there was some magic way Really this is totally bizarre Winter months are usually toughest We pack on the extra pounds Must get dedicated with spring's arrival It's really getting me down To keep the pounds from coming back Requires dedication and inner strength We surely aren't all up to the task To journey that extra length Rewards are great if you can keep it off More power to those that do It sure takes dedication and perseverance Not all of us can see it through Well to all those really dedicated souls Here's wishing you a ton of success It's certainly a difficult thing to accomplish But your friends, you'll surely impress Is yo-yo dieting always inevitable Is it apart of who we all are © Jack Ellison 2014

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The Unfinished Chapter

The beginning was a question,
Dealing the the heart's true want.
The prologue filled with innocence,
And lovely sober thoughts.

Then stories took an awry twist,
And things came complicated.
The feelings that were filled with love,
They soon became sedated.

Now drunken, hopeless lonliness,
She walks the path alone.
You chose another over her,
And cast her from her home.

With founding hate the mourners cry,
And wear their veils of black.
The girl you cast into the Earth,
Has had her "heart attack."

With seizing pain the letters scream,
Up at you from the grave.
To know that this is all your fault,
It sets your soul ablaze.

But not for long, you'll see her soon,
In hell or heaven; both,
Are good as any other choice,
So you won't have to be alone.

With hate and tears and love and fears,
You bid the world good-bye.
Take one last breath and then you jump,
A soulless suicide.

The epilogue will bear your name,
Forever, etched in stone.
You gave your life to end her strife,
And so she wouldn't be alone.

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Your Eggrolls Are Dry

Your eggrolls aren't dry.
Your eggrolls aren't wet.
You say they're just right.
like it's some sort of threat.

You hand me an eggroll
along with a plum sauce.
I can tell you're still mad
as your eyes start to uncross.

This time there's no bag.
could it be a small hint.
Is it time to say sorry
for that eye with a glint.

It's a fresh tasty eggroll.
Not too dry; nor to wet.
It's your present to me
with my thanks and my debt.

I can never repay you
for the food you confect.
but more than your eggrolls
it is you that's perfect.

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Dear Sweet Miss Melissa

Dear sweet Miss Melissa Fallen head over heels for you A welcome breath of sweetness Genuine through and through Midst all the raucous behaviour In today's entertainment scene Stands tall above all the madness So honest, so real, so clean No airs, no ego, no hidden agenda Unaffected by fortune and fame Loved you my dear Miss Melissa Winning at the “Dancing” game Surely belong on the silver screen I'd part with big dollars to see My dear sweet darling Miss Melissa So genuine, so honest, so free Dear sweet Miss Melissa Fallen head over heels for you Sending love and deep devotion Long distance but oh so true! © Jack Ellison 2012 Dedicated to "Dancing With The Stars" winner, Melissa Rycroft

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Live with bold zest,
Start now this day;
Live sacred quest,
Learn how to play.

Love all you meet,
Start life easy;
Love makes things sweet,
End with breezy.

Each face you see:
Tells a story;
Each longs to be
Nice and happy.

Love each sad face,
Give room to grow;
Love each harsh trace,
Glimpse pain that shows.

Each day you lose
Brings death nearer;
Love you can choose
To flood booster.

Some days are dark,
Some seem dreary;
Look for the spark,
Take things easy.

Fit piece by piece,
Let puzzle urge;
Grab special feast
In simple surge.

Laugh at your faults,
Just ease your nerves;
You need not bolt
Your learning curve.

Look at things bright,
Purge gloom and doom;
Love puts things right,
Just spare some room.

Learn to unlearn
And re-invent
The way you earn,
Re-learn content.

Be willing now
To smile and pray;
Love frames endow,
Align fond play.

Leon Enriquez
05 Mar 2014

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Fight for what you love,
For what's right,
For what you believe in.
Just fight.

Believe in what you want.
Believe in who you are.
Believe in prayer,
And in wishes on stars.

Pray about mistakes.
Pray for what you need.
Pray for those you love.
Pray in faith, not in greed.

Love those in your life.
Love the little things.
Love your tribulations,
Because they help you get your dreams.

Dream with faith behind them.
Dream without inhibitions.
Accomplished dreams are celebrations.
Dream as high as the stars you wish on.

Celebrate each moment.
Celebrate each year,
With joy and with laughter,
Some emotion and some tears.

Laugh without limitations.
Laugh at those trying to hold you back.
Laugh and learn to move on.
Laugh like you don't know how to act.

Learn to move on from your mistakes.
Learn to persevere and be strong.
Learn to listen and inspire.
Learn to pick yourself up and keep on.

Inspire yourself.
Inspire those around you.
Be inspired by the life you see.
Put inspiration in everything you do.

Live without any regrets.
Live with a smile on your face.
Live with pride in what you're doing,
And not with other people's disgrace.

Do what you believe in.
Do what you feel is best.
Do what you have to to become who you want to be.
Do you and don't worry about the rest.

Be someone you can respect.
Be happy when you see your reflection.
Be strong when no one else is.
Be unafraid when the time comes for action.

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Tall Tales

With muse in hand I must come up with great stories
That it keeps it's seeker longing for more of it's caption
free verse sonnet haiku or just stopping on by
I'm sure that there's something you may find very interesting

Tribute To Writers Here At

Also Entry For 
Brian Strand's
Poulter's Measure
GL All

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The Poor Man's Fortune

There's something from the Chinese
that's called the poor man's fortune.
when back in the beginning
was thought of as misfortune.

My story starts with Sally Trac
A waitress in a chain.
One courteous and generous
that no one would call vain.

Each day would be a badgering
where Sally'd pester me.
and I'd return the pestilence
Our humor running free.

I'd order up a coffee milked.
A coffee Sally'd make.
The moment came up often
as the days turned into wake.

In sipping it I'd soon relax;
when tapped upon the shoulder.
And turn around where Sally'd be
Her smile come close as bolder.

An outreached hand to beckon me
presented me with cookies.
Them broken and no fortunes,
as if to come from bookies.

Without their guidance I was lost
unless you count their portions.
For Sally giving cookies free
would be the poor man's fortune.

Details | Quatrain | |

Pinching Napkins

I'm shuffling trays of food
and placing them up front.
I'm spilling on the way
in stains I'll later hunt.

I'm ever pinching napkins
and wiping spots of sauce.
Forever wiping up them
so later I can toss.

I've piled the garbage higher
with sweet and sour rags.
Left scrunched into a bow
to finish them of drags.

I'll order in more napkins
to later fill the rack.
But first I'll make some more sauce.
A dish from Sally Trac.

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More often than not is it assumed
I do not have a heart
I shun those who attempt to know me
Before anything can start

But these past few months I've come to learn
That having a heart's not so bad
I've let myself trust, and open up vulnerability
And for that I am glad.

I never meant to hold back
I did so, but didn't realize
That you needed more than simply words
Frustration brimmed in your eyes

I wanted us to work
To have what happy couples do
But slowly I was pushing you away
And I never even knew

You're an amazing person
With so much life and honest bliss
Our intimate moments, our laughs and goals
Are what I'll truly miss

Now we travel our own directions
Approaching the fork where our paths must part
Just know I'll always care so much for you
You'll hold a place forever dear in my heart.

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Poetry Is My Lady

(Inspired by my dear friend, Carol Eastman) Poetry is my lady She claims my heart and soul Dear Cathie is my faithful muse Without her, words don't roll Sit here blankly staring At a screen devoid of words Unable to write a single stanza Till Cathie's subtle urge Now can't keep typing fast enough My creative tap's turned on Try so hard not to break the spell As Lady Poetry sings her song Sit here amazed as my fingers fly And words do finally appear Magically streaming across the screen Driven by my muse so dear As much as I take full credit For the verse I lay before you I'm aided greatly by dearest Cathie My adorable muse so true © Jack Ellison 2014

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Empty Chair

In class he was a clown,
Picking on his classsmates and doing what he wanted.
In all he was a good kid,
Very friendly and never hurt anyone here.

The last I saw him, his mother was in the hospital. 
He wanted to leave school but couldn't, he wasn't allowed.
He was only 15 years old, why did God take him too?
Too many young lives are dimenishing too fast.

All he did was attend a party that night,
Many here at Hampton High did too.
That van drove by, he was standing in target,
Several shots fired, one hit, one died.

Why him, why now, why that way?
What was the reason God wanted him so soon?
Is it better than living his life to the fullest?

In class, he has an empty chair,
No one picking on his classmates.
In all he was a good kid, very friendly,
And never hurt anyone here.

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Our Journey

Traveling this road alone
My heart mourns for you
The time we had together 
Has ended way too soon

Looking through the glare
Of a windshield dimmed by tears
I think of me and you 
Traveling all these years

I recall with vivid color
How your eyes would shine
The sweet sound of your laughter
How you touched my heart and mind

Friends gathered ‘round me
To help me celebrate your life
Stories flowed like water
Their friendship eased my strife

So not in sadness do I mourn
But strictly out of love
The life we had for over twenty years
Was blessed by God above

You were everything to me
And now that you are gone
I will cherish every moment shared
As our memories journey on

*Written for Red Buckler in loving memory of his best friend and companion for twenty three 
years Patsy (Pat) Cunningham

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Debussy Inspiration

Debussy Inspiration

I advanced from piano player to pianist
When I finally memorized Claire De Lune.
Since then I’ve migrated to a rhythm guitarist,
But I could never escape that flowing tune.

I played Debussy’s song so often without the sheets
That over time it evolved to something else.
A few different notes or off-rhythmic beats;
So that an expert would patently find it false.

I eventually learned to play more difficult songs:
Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,
And many of Scott Joplin’s syncopated ragtime songs;
But Debussy’s Claire De Lune still remains a part of me.


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American Friends Service Committee

This was written a while ago as a member of a another poetry site. It was about a South African lady who I loved and admired greatly! I miss her wit, her charm and most of all her great creative talent! She challenged me to write a poem describing her official job title which turned out to be no mean task... She's our leading lady, you know who I mean All she does is write great poetry She's a marvellous gal with a heart of gold Now here's a bit about her psychometry She asked me to describe her job in rhyme This marvellous and talented lady She's the Assistant Program Director of the South African Program of the Peace Education Division of the American Friends Service Committee Some say it's a cover for something shady Can't write much more, I'm all out of breath I should store as much as I can One never knows when I'll need that reserve For a reprieve, well at least that's my plan She didn't think I was up to the task But her occupation is included herewith Don't ask me how I managed to accomplish it Sheer genius I suppose, it's a gift! LOL © Jack Ellison 2012

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So alone and pensive, he stares at the paved, glaring square below
admiring an elegant lady strolling by...
with a vibrant spirit in his blood, his enthusiasm will flow;
what kind of reward will he have, if he doesn't try?

Young man, have you done enough to get ahead in life?
Oh, you desire a marriage and many kids;
they will come through fortitude and sacrifice...
put aside every useless fear and beat all the odds!

Big town youngsters' dreams are awaiting release
from a heart, which will see his dream realized...
when triumph, fortune and glee will never cease;
he stands at the balcony with a look so mesmerized! 

Entered in Iolanda Scripca's contest,
" Untold Secrets "

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Our oceans and rivers, once so limpid,
have become huge dumps
for industries and sewages,
doesn't the stench make anyone sick?

Blame your inactive Congressman
for not halting the daily, illegal dumping;
do you propose an urgent ban,
or walk straight into the snare, not fretting?

Take a short walk on the beach at any hour; spot
golden trout, bluefish and shellfish dying from pollution,
writhing on the sand...this is their graveyard?
Are we an advanced civilization without any intuition?

Seabirds may be the lucky ones for instance,
to find easy food, but they might also be at risk
from the poison that's killing every kind of fish;
and how can people pass by them and still glance?

If I were running for Governor of my beautiful state,
I would stop this madness, although some may be outraged;
should I watch pollution ruin the environment and wait?
If corruption has prevailed, woe to anyone not heeding my word!  

Details | Quatrain | |


I have painted a red sunset for a special valentine
on the largest and finest canvas known to  Mankind,
with happy visions of lovers sailing on a ship dazzled by light,
hoping that love will make their adventerous hearts bind! 

Come, sweetheart let's escape and dream,
where this rose-petals-covered sea may lead,
with your head resting on my shoulder, and my warm hands
hands spread across your fast-beating revive romance!  

I have honored the memory of this Cupid's day with sweet intent,
with something that will outlast beauty and time,
and without a signed name to identify its artist...
they will gess who he was and feel how intense was his desire!

Let's sit on the deck and watch the parade of the erogenous stars,
and each of them is a dream that will be revealed by fate as kisses
inflamed by passion, make love more intense and pleasurable...
nothing we'll be withheld, or left unsaid in these embraces so sentimental!  

I have painted a red sunset for a special Valentine,
for that one deserving recognition as a token of my endless gratitude;
and my dedication will unveil the scope of my amplitude...
cherish it, lover to remind you of someone whose love was too sublime!

Details | Quatrain | |

Your Gift To Me

Exhaling petals in the time of need 

I keep replaying the blossoming of gardenias 

by pushing buttons on my remote control 

with painful fingers - reminders of lost wings.

The mini blinds are broken so I peek 

Over the sterile walls mutilated by wrong turns 

I hear you calling me on a disconnected phone 

I'm fine!...and you? - followed by a timid silence.

Accidental spring brought us back together 

In a building where daffodils smell of chloroform 

And angels lie flat on a recently emptied bed 

As I watch windows cry in endless raindrop dances.

It's so much life outside I feel I suffocate. 

I see returning swallows through your candid eyes 

As panicky sirens make your heart pound in my chest... 

This accidental spring we'll finally be... forever.

For Laura's "Recovery From Life" contest

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Broken Eggs

Humpty Dumpty cracked my eggs
Theses pristine solid becomes a liquid mess
With The yellow fat yolk jostling wet
In a bowl like a squabble comic pair yet unset

Humpty Dumpty left my eggs broken
As delicate as a fetus whirling for life
Helpless at birth yet destined to live
Wrapped in the womb and silent as such

Broken Eggs shatters the hope of life 
Yet a hope to save another; may be from hunger
I found it utterly pleasing and truly, very yummy
Perfect in beauty in sauce like my honey mummy

Humpty Dumpty cracked my eggs, yet
Daddy spiced my broken eggs into an omelet
He turned those broken eggs into a jellyroll
And poured it in a golden bounteous-bowl

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Stubborn Strength

Gritting my teeth
Swing low, swinging high.
I've come too far to break
not again, not this time.

Details | Quatrain | |

Big Nickel Eyes

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

It's at the top of the hill.
It's silver and shiny.
It's broad and it's tall.
It'll make you feel tiny.

It's above an old mine.
It's next to some rails.
It's a dot on the horizon.
It's not heads and not tails.

It's a circle with edges.
It's a coin large in size.
It's the money we made
for our Big Nickel Eyes.

Details | Quatrain | |

Guiding Choice (Quatrain)

The heart and mind battles with faith and hope entwined.
Each heart has hope for faith with empowerment for glory.
Our minds analyses factual existence,
He gave us both, heart and mind, choice the different guidance.

quatrain form in a poulter's measure style for Brians contest.

Details | Quatrain | |

Back On Track

Been gaining some pounds since moving here Getting back on track once more No more cake with two scoops of ice cream I'm as dedicated as I was before Resisting temptation is the name of the game Will power sure comes into play Without it you're doomed right from the start Keep chomping away on fillets Did it before so failing's not an option Determined as I was back then Too much poundage can be a dangerous thing Going to lose a bunch once again Do I hear you cheering me on, my friends Well thank you for your support I'll keep you posted on how I'm doing Kinda like a progress report Trust me I'm as confident as I've ever been Did it once and will do it again But if for some reason I don't achieve my goal Got no one but myself to blame © Jack Ellison 2014

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Our Noon Time Nibblers

With bushy tails and shining eyes
our noon time nibblers come
to sit upon their pole and eat
and give us noon time fun.

They jump and scurry all about
to get what we leave there.
Wee paws, they use so cunningly
to chonk their daily fare.

The peanut shells, they pile up
but we'll always leave them more
to be entertained at lunch time
with their antics we adore.

This is dedicated to Moggie Bonner,
a wonderful women who I had the blessing
to be her aid and companion for the last six years
of her life.  I wrote this for her during my employ.
It was a daily joy for both of us to watch the squirrels
"chonk" which is a phrase she always used. She kept
this on her table and read it everyday.  She passed away
in 2006 at the age of 95.  I miss you Moggie
and I'll always love you. Robin

Details | Quatrain | |

Ready Sally

Come in early; next time earlier
Sally would always say.
Cause Sally put her coffee on
early in the day.

I was late and she was early
so Sally would have me think.
But when I think of who came first
coffee was Sally's drink.

She liked to serve it early
to should I say herself.
It took awhile to realize
it wasn't for myself.

But then I thought of all the times
Sally had it ready.
She couldn't be that thirsty
and have her nerves as steady.

It's only now I see it clear.
My Sally likes to share.
And if I don't come early:
I'll tip her; and she won't care.

Details | Quatrain | |

The Plan

These days my heart pumps slowly 
For fear of faling too fast
It clings to what it desires
And hopes the feeling will last

My spirit has taken a detrimental glide
And I'm free falling on faith alone
I am learning to trust God's will be done
And to live as he would condone

Days are rough and I can't help but think
Of you, your thoughts, your heart
I'm trying to be strong and with God I can
But I've missed you from the start

Little things we've done and the good times
Are all I seem to recall
I know had we done things accordingly
God would have ensured we'd never fall

You have a great heart and gentle spirit
Some recent things I don't understand
But I know it's not up to me to fear it
Because somehow, it's part of God's plan

Details | Quatrain | |


Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness” Got it from my dear old dad He once rode a bike three hundred sixty miles Took four days each way, egad! At any age, that's quite an accomplishment But my dad was sixty years old From Montreal to Toronto and back again A feat so gruelling, so bold A wee one of ten back in nineteen forty-six Didn't hit me till many years later The impact of his enormous accomplishment It then seemed a whole lot greater Been telling this proud tale wherever I go Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness” Don't think I can even come close to matching The resolve and dedication he possessed © Jack Ellison 2013 Sadly, he died of cancer at the young age of 67

Details | Quatrain | |

The people who believe

I’d like to thank the people who support me.
They give me the courage to write of all I see.
I try to change perceptions, I know what is shall be.
Yet the change within my heart allows me to soar free.

Every little word is like a piece of a whole.
Opening my eyes, strengthening my soul.
It makes me feel humble yet I can smile.
The words create vision, I see for miles.

Sometimes life is happy while others it’s sad.
I sift through all the memories of times I had.
It seems to offer balance, in the middle I find hope.
It’s something you can’t clean off with a little soap.

So thank you on this Sunday I feel rather blessed.
Things are getting better than I could have guessed.
As we travel on this journey, seems like a common road.
In the end I find some peace inside the words I’m told.

Details | Quatrain | |



Could be you or me  fallen out of the net.
Just an old guy, down and out -
Park bench newspaper-blanket :
Drop a coin in his cup as I walk about.

Never was any great hero  -  high-flown
Lawyer,actor, preacher, top of the championship.
Had a wife and two kids now grown  -
Now all gone - end of the line, end of the trip.

Bad luck in his small shop business:
Lost everything.  Lost everyone.  Not sorry.
What was it all about? The hurry,the mess,
The bustle, the scrimping, the worry?

Could’ve been a drunk, a louche trying
His luck as a gambler, a no-good-Charlie.
They end up just as easiy lying
On a park bench, but enjoyed the trip. See?

His only possession is integrity.
He faced his problems head-on, solo.
Didn’t win, went down fighting his enemy.
That’s called being a hero.

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

Written by Sydney Peck
Entered in Janette Fisher's Contest   Holding out for a Hero

Details | Quatrain | |

Sudbury Bars

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

There are some behind bars
serving drinks for their time,
that there's more in this city
than the world we can chime.

They're the place you met Linda.
The place you played pool.
They're the waitress who served you
and the time you were cool.

All these bars are our memories.
A glance through a room.
A romance for starting
a Sudbury boom!

Details | Quatrain | |


Rebuilding what was torn down
might take endless effort,
and it can be definitely done
without recalling the hurt.

To visualize it again,
it's putting together the ideas 
that started it in adolescence...
will it be the same dream as then?

Some achievers build it
as a bricklayer does: brick by brick...
until it is clearly conceived,
to amaze themselves who strongly believed. 

Rebuilding what was torn down
by malevolent forces takes firm belief,
and with my defiant courage it will have life again:
breathing as I breath with much sought relief.

Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Quatrain | |

Romancing The Stone

My Rock, strong tower
Your strength draws me
Into your presence come
Oh! you great magnolia flower

Solid strong unmoveable
Your love for me was first....
Adoring the unloveable
With a love that is transformable

Details | Quatrain | |

Super Stack

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

There's a sky that's high
where the chimney's higher.
Where the smoke blooms grey
and the winds are drier.

There's a chimney round
with it's white strobe lights,
calling out to planes
through the days and nights.

With a rim in white
and a stack of grey
In the North we say...
It's our home to stay!

Details | Quatrain | |

without so much as

without so much as...

Thinking back on that spring day
you walked out of my front door
without so much as "see ya later"
"I'll be around", or just "goodbye"

I never thought about it back then
I just naturally assumed on return
and picking up where we'd left off
that morning you went into the world

It's logical to assume the future
will be much the same as the past
so out you went to do your thing
without as much as a quick look back

"It's a dangerous business 
going out your front door" *
the attitude is to be an optimist
and look forward to what's in store

The thing is you didn't return
The thing is that I don't know
what you thought that day you left
The thing now I miss, is just you

More aware now of the "now" of things
that our time together is precious
mindful of what the future may bring
knowing expectation isn't portentous

Whether esteemed colleague or close friend, 
whether daughter, son, husband, or wife,
we never know what providence will send
to take that ally from our lives

A simple advice is to mindfully remember
in the now, to express aloud your heart
forget angst, set aside hurry, quell bad temper
just tell 'em you love 'em, as you part

© Goode Guy 2012-06-21

for Pepper
* J. R. R. Tolkien - The Hobbit

Details | Quatrain | |


A flinch might slow me down
to meeting those I'm after.
Perhaps a famous poet
a wordsmith and a crafter.

Maybe meet an artist
who's harvested a smile,
Or even meet the woman
who sat through it in style.

I'd search for smarter apples
who preach of gravity.
Or maybe meet the one
to plant the apple tree.

There'd maybe be a man
I'd answer on his phone,
or cast as shadowed light
with one that is well known.

Perhaps I'd meet the smartest
Here and there in space,
one relative in time:
one, we'll not soon replace.

In time I'll learn about them
by listening to what they say.
But if you know their secret
they'll send me on my way.

The moral of the story
that spans the length of time
is try to be yourself
and careful not to mime.

A flinch might slow me down
to meeting those I'm after
but forgetting my own self
could lead to the hereafter.

Details | Quatrain | |


Since childhood my vivid and alluring aspirations
painted my rainbows with different colors,
not the ones I was after and truly adored...
who has ever heard of a teenager being bored?

Anytime I saw a train leave the station with its smooth rhythm,
I wanted to be that conductor who could never fall asleep,
and at every stop he would look carefully before closing the doors...
then, laid-back, watch the changing landscape and whistle his tunes!

If imagination had not been there to tackle my reflective tendencies
that were, indeed, rooted in all aspects of the present wilderness,
I wouldn't have cultivated this passion and turn it into a realistic dream...
which allowed inspiration to enter the subconsciousness of this thinker's realm!    

The fast-paced postman delivering mail to mailboxes seldom locked, thrilled me;
he looked so sharp and handsome greeting folks, and it would have been an honor
to chat with them, listening to their suggestions and helping them thoroughly...
I visualized myself as such, and even practiced it daily in front of large mirror!

If tons of ideas hadn't fed the urge to jot down details with ebullient imagery,
unless I wasn't aware of their poignant meaning and powerful message,
I wouldn't have let fantasy create an extraordinary dreamer out of someone so ordinary...
to adorn dullness with my cheerfulness and change winter to spring!

Details | Quatrain | |

Changes or Do They

Doth if not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art, 
To feel how I press thy singing 
Close to my heart? 

Dread and dreary ye query,
While theist were living,
Thou had many words to say.
Thou wert a man of words giving.

An Actor of life upon stage of play,
Ye dodged many taxes.
Ye were a humble jester, they say.
Upon thee crest no axes.

Histories of you are many things.
Thou a talented writer were thee.
Actor, poetic writer as the past sings.
Mr. Shakespeare, “to be or not to be”,

I have read thou have had miseries.
Not unlike those of today.
Though under difficult hardships of seize.
Cultures change, as with life is still a play.

Details | Quatrain | |

A Little Club (Tribute to Billy Joel)

I walked into the club on a Saturday
Just had myself sometime to kill
I took my chance offering some romance
To a beautiful Angel I can see her still

The place didn’t have much to offer
I think it had seen its brightest days
Then over there on the dusty piano
A storyteller sat down with us to play

His song told a story about each of us
Spending our lives far short of our goals
Longer he played the more that he paid
Piano man played every drop of his soul

I will never forget that Piano Player
And how he took each one of us away
From the regret we had yet to forget
You’re the best I have ever seen play

So Billy Joel I wrote your soul this poem
Because the Piano man was truly great
And the story you told was poetic gold
Because we all became aware of our fate

Written for Michelle's contest, 
"The Piano Man by Billy Joel."
God Bless you all. I go see the
Orthopedic Specialist tomorrow.
I reckon it's all good long as we
have our faith. God Bless

Details | Quatrain | |

Nickel Big

Poems about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

There's a nickel big that I feel small.
A coin to wonder where you'd spend.
One broader than your shoulders.
One much to large to lend.

There's a nickel big in Sudbury.
A city home to miners.
Where mining for our nickel
is not meant for the whiners.

There's a nickel big from in the Earth.
A coin come from the heart.
Where money is for spending
and nickels for the art.

Details | Quatrain | |

What A Waste (Tribute to Janice Joplin's Bobby McGee)

Some songs make their impressions
Lasting forever in our minds
They may fade or not mean as much
As our soul society blinds

They tell us what they want us to hear
Trying so hard to keep us blind
But through the Songs Janice used to sing
We were some how able to find

How would you love to be Bobby McGee?
Or the trucker far as goes
I’m sure they had a hell of a trip
Writing the song that all of us know

Addiction took her from us one day
In fact it has taken a few
So before you fly know that it’s no lie
Like Janice it will take you to

I think I got way off track here
but this for Brian's contest and
it is one of the impressions in
my mind that will forever stay.
I loved her music, God Bless

Details | Quatrain | |


I live in the ether, the place I know
where thoughts of heart and mind do flow
in a conscious state of epiphany
where intelligence lives in harmony

from this place the sources of task
to direct my body to do as I ask
I find I’m not always in full control
of what is residing inside of this soul

The rarest of gems therein resides
where our own cognition abides
exquisite delights are there to be found
to make sure our thinking is sound

Firmly cemented with it’s epoxy
not dedicated to orthodoxy
the place where one can search for the truth
about the things we learn in our youth

This system of things is so full of lies
and to see through them one must be wise
the beliefs that history has handed down
holds firmly in grasp its blinding resound

I find in it’s closets things I must clean out
that overshadow my heart and it’s doubt
the war that exists inside of man
that damages things within reach of his hand

The source for all kindness and it’s living balm
and when we face conflict for keeping us calm
for understanding all of this life
for making peace when meeting it’s strife

So many colors with varying hues
herein is where I first found my muse
painting it’s pictures on tapestry mind
weaving it’s patterns the ethereal kind

Each of us has been given this gift
and to it’s sharing for others to lift
a vast chasm and depth in this well
for composing design and doubts dispel

source of insp Proverbs 1-5 on thinking
ability, understanding and wisdom

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Details | Quatrain | |

The Best of Me

I can’t believe I’m leaving,
I can’t believe the news.
When you least expect it,
Cancer gets the best of you.

There’s so much to live for,
And so much I didn’t see.
I was wishing for a cure;
My dreams I will never be.

This isn’t the first loss,
Cancer came to take.
I’ve wished for many nights,
That this was a mistake.

I wished upon a star,
That I could live happy.
In the middle of my dreams,
Cancer got the best of me.

For the millions of lives cancer takes away from us yearly!

Details | Quatrain | |

What is Sloth

Sloth is laziness of mind and
Through which we neglect our duties
On account on the labor they require


Details | Quatrain | |

Doubtless Thomas

Don't despair tomorrow's promise
Justified in your beliefs.
Don't resign him 'Doubting Thomas'
Seek his answers, seek relief.

Mind is torn from fear to love
Good to evil, black to white.
Dual nature speaks thereof
Lost in darkness, found in Light.

I did meet this ancient soul.
Joined his quest in perseverance.
Claimed his virtue, I extol
The need to push the disappearance

Of the universe of which
I claim no allegiance to.
Heaven bound, his ride I hitch
Where doubt is null, for Love is true.

He did know the 'chosen' one
Whose words revealed this mystery:
Fallen angels, there are none
All are Sacred, all are Free.

*Inspired by "The Disappearance of the Universe" by Gary Renard.

Details | Quatrain | |

Mind the Brain

Mind the brain game on...

the conspicuous lay in taunt...

lessons well observed

A leader has become...

The tide she leaves distinguished...

All sands will follow her...

She dwells in her own pool...

With a gift, 

The heavens bestowed...

Her futuristic mind scape... 

Past lends her a glimpse...

Mind the brain game on...

Lessons well observed...

Message with feeling dialect

She understands all word...

All prophecy sent from hindsight

All lessons well observed...

No clutching at the straws...

A moments rediscovery...

message spelled out from grave...

Mind the brain game on...

All lessons well observed...

Once quell now ink on bread crumbs...

Message in feeling dialect...

A leader she has now become...

All lessons well observed...

The grave in turn protect

Details | Quatrain | |

Locked Away

My husbands actions locked with my soul and remained at our frount door,
He reenlisted again and had left for the Afganistan war.
My eyes became swollen the tears begain to pour.
Then all of a sudden, for some reason, one day I wasn't mad at him anymore.
I inwardly waited to hear his keys rattle and his duffle hit the floor. 

Quatrain - a hopeful heart

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A Massachusetts Family

In Massachusetts, there is a family. Perhaps you have heard of them, their name is Kennedy. Father Joe and mother Rose raised children by the bunch. They became rich, and never needed a free lunch. However, they have gotten unlucky turns of the card. Despite their money, their lives have been hard. Joseph Junior became a casualty of the war. Because of that, he is around no more. Second son John gained great popularity. He was elected the president of this country. However, an event in Dallas left him undone. Bullets to the head, and he was buried in Arlington. Bobby was next in line to succeed. An assassin in Los Angeles did a dirty deed. While campaigning, Bobby walked around unprotected. He joined his brother John before he could be elected. Youngest brother Ted was not blessed with fame. A drowning incident left him marked for life with shame. As a politician, he had plenty to give. His health condition curtailed his time to live. Therefore, that is how I describe this Irish Family. There have many descendents carrying the name of Kennedy. Not much has happened to this clan as of late. Many of us know they deserved a better fate.

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LinkedIn to Magi

the Magi travels on the web
deftly legging at the lines
crawling around like tide and ebb
leaving gifts brushing those confines

there is wonder there, to partake
there are sightings, so exquisite
things seen clearly, or opaque
discerning is the only requisite

information and loaded emotion
moving images of hate and love
surfing past advertised promotions
the trick is just to take hold of

what the Magi drop in plain sight
secrets both known, and obscure
love can be heard in sound bites
but hate, nearby will always allure

just ignore hate that always shouts
listening only for quiet whispers
the Magi's magic is now and hereabout
imagining images of peace in pictures

magnetically pulled positive or naught
what is sought, so will be found
love you, others, too love free thought
surf linked web without going aground

gifted fob to keep your time clasped
as you give freely of your own time
the Magi's link finally is grasped
love for each other, sweetly sublime

© Goode Guy 2011-11-20

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God will Lead the Way

This poem’s for Gary and Elizabeth,
The parents who lost a child.
I hope that what I’ve written,
Has given your heart a smile.

May I help to lift your joy,
And sustain your happiness,
For my chosen flow of words,
Have been divinely blessed. 

I don’t know you but I care,
For my heart too has cried.
And when we stop remembering,
Is when our loved ones die.

I welcome you to read my work,
That I’ve written for the world.
For my words are poignant lines,
That my heart and mind unfurled. 

Thank you for the opportunity, 
To share my gift with you.
Keep progressing with your lives,
Don’t get stuck with I miss yous.

My name’s Raul Moreno,
And healing hearts is my goal.
It’s not about the poems I’ve written,
It's about the ones that touch the soul.

I love writing countless poems,
I hope you love what I have to give.
Let us not remember our losses,
Let us muster our strength to live.

I am a God fearing poet,
I hope you enjoy the message I convey. 
One day you’ll reunite with Nathan,
And God will lead the way. 

I was inspired by Michael Torres' 
Tribute "Nathaniel you Touched our Heart's"
This poem stemmed from his great tribute.
I wrote this for Gary and Elizabeth Reese.
Time does not heal all wounds,
but it gets us closer to our loved ones...

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The one, I have watched in my dreams.
Is my desire, reflecting heart, uncontainable?
Is she the one, relaxing my hopes for?
Is she the one, truly irresistible?

Affectionate love, taking me beyond all,
Tell me that my soul will always score.
Is she the one, truly irresistible?
Is she the one, relaxing my hopes for?

Eyes delving into a spirit of love supreme,
Bridging destiny into something acceptable,
Is she the one, relaxing my hopes for?
Is she the one, truly irresistible?

Lips, which delivers such placidity,
Until met with mine, forever more
Is she the one, truly irresistible?
Is she the one, relaxing my hopes for?

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Poetry Soup Garden

This garden full of lovely blooms
That every day I tend
Is filled with many different kinds
of people I call friend
All with hearts with great big smiles
words you need to read
Colorful..... tremendous strength
Each built from a seed
All are kind and they always give
Encouragement to me
My breathtaking flowers on this site
Give their love for free
Their cultivation sustains my smile
I think they all should know.
I am a flower that resides here too
Comments make us grow

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Preview Of Perfection

A tiny taste of the life I’ll lead
In your bed, our kingdom.
A preview of all that I want and I need,
Love, in total freedom.

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"I am appalled," the administrator said
..."I am appalled by your recommendation."
yet utterly correct, it soon proved to be
for years anonymous, the implied accusation

Challenger "slipped the surly bonds of Earth"
and surely those scientific souls perished
to "Touch the face of God" was said henceforth
but always, in all ways, their memory cherished

Roger Boisjoly*, and a few who knew the truth
also, felt smacked-in-the-face by appalling
as guilt and horror were revealed through proof
let "only the facts speak" was the higher calling

when timetables are allowed to tip the scale 
without regard to even more profound losses
we could learn to let probable facts prevail 
and overrule overbearing bosses, whatever the cost is

foregoing of foretelling, is unfortunately compelling

© Goode Guy 2012-02-07

* pronounced: (Fr) Beaujolais

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River Of Blessings

On a cold November day I sat beside you
to let you fill me with your crystal charm.
To my surprise I saw a lonely traveler
instinctively I knew he meant no harm.

Approaching me with care he closed the distance
although he seemed a million miles away.
He asked so sweetly just to sit a while
with gladdened heart I bid him please to stay.

He spoke his words of praise to me about you
recounting all the beauty that you hold
and I was blessed with joy that has no boundaries
because he chanced upon your banks of gold.

*To the Brownings, such a loving pair.

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The Holy Cross Church with its neo-Gothic facade was too beauteous and too rare,
so clustered among the aristocratic neat palaces,
choked by the shadows of less ancient buildings;
I often looked up to glance at its tall bell-tower with a chill in my curly hair!

When I was the altar boy, I had to climb a thousand steep steps 
to pull the rough cord and make that brass bell merrily ring,
and it relentlessly tolled far into the fertile valley kissed by spring,
and its resonant strokes summoned all to Vespers at six!!

By all means I should have wisely chosen the priesthood... 
wine and bread I placed on a silver plate to be offered
before the altar, where the invisible eye of God watched me;
I worshiped Him and He blessed me for my sincerity!   

The Holy Cross Church still stands there and its steps invoke my footsteps,
the gentle footsteps of a fine boy who turned his faith into a fervent creed;
and even if sunshine never hit my cold face slanting upward like a shield...
through the glass-stained windows it dazzled to restore the presence of grace! 

How I would like to hear that huge organ play the lovely," Ave Maria"  by Mozart,
making the gathered faithful cry and moved by its inspiring sound I contemplated an art ,
which revered and honored God in His exuberantly expressed by Man's spirit!
No other place, more beautiful than this, can make me forget the awe and joy that I felt!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Surrounded by silence and draped with a linen sheet,
to keep dust from your natural sheen,
and protect you from direct sunlight;
not from the loneliness and gloominess of your night...

How thrilling and gratifying was to hear
the gleeful or moody notes,
when these careful fingers 
played an octave:  either lower or higher!  

Never abandoned for a long period,
always tuned-up, free of dust and ready for play;
a companion that loved being spoiled,
by letting me improvise the melody of the day... 

Let me see myself in virtual reality, stately and taut, 
sitting in my stylish pose, and hit the keyboard,
transcribing a musical comedy by sharp memory
as the chords make up my distinct harmony...    

Be dormant no more, come alive and rejuvenate your tones: 
as the spirit that inspires the mood of your melodies;  bring back
all the tenors and sopranos to this forgotten stage so dark, 
and let them sing the arias they choose within the range of their keys....  

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My friend

I am inspired by the inspiration
I inspired in you
Strange, this conversation
Yet, so very true
You are my friend in words
And you believe in me
So inspired by the confidence
Inside of you I see
This person that you are within
Is very good, and kind
The most amazing thing about you
Is what's inside your mind

To my friend Micheal on Poetry Soup

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Shelter From The Storm

           Through the woods, childish feet ran
               With my demons chasing me
                 Fleeing from the turbulence
                So young in life I had to see

           Away from hatred, and from WORDS
                  Far away from all the pain
               To a place that I found shelter
                   From all this broken rain

               I could see you in the distance
                  Like a beacon in the sky
              I ran to you, I knew you'd care
              You'd let me break down and cry

              In giant branches, I found safety
                As you held me close to you
             I confessed to you of my un bliss
                  You always listened, too

             You cradled me inside your arms
                  And held my sobbing face
                   Until the agony was gone
                  And happy found its place

             I would dream beneath your arms
                    Of heroines of Power
                 He loves...or loves me not...
                 With petals from a flower

            I would draw pictures of my dreams
                And like a child I could sleep
                Knowing here that I was safe
              And my secrets you would keep

                 Oh, mighty Oak, Eternal, tall
                  You stood so very, very high
                     So Stately and imposing
               I thought you reached the sky!

                You will always be remembered
                 Then, you were my only friend
                  I cherish you inside my mind
                  Your memory will never end

               How I wish your brilliance stood
                   Upon my new land too
            For, tears still find my face at times
                   But I just can't run to you!

Dedicated to "Peter" my mighty Oak

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Heaven's Comedian

God called on the 9th of August,
  Right on Bernie’s golden age.
To lead him to the heavens,
  For standup on the grandest stage.

Bernie’s routine was colossal,
  For God created the best.
When God needed His comic,
  He laid Bernie’s soul to rest.

God called that weary morning,
  And summoned America’s comedian.
He granted a divine promotion,
  In becoming heaven’s comedian.

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Heaven's Comedian 2

God called December 18th,
  When Chris Farley was 33.
He led him to the heavens,
  And set his soul free.

Chris will always be remembered,
  As he accepted God's request.
When God needed His comic,
  He laid Chris' soul to rest.    

When God called that day,
  He took a great American comedian.
And granted a divine promotion,
  In being one of heaven’s comedians.

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Beside You

Beside You
     by Amy Swanson  June, 2007

When your burden's heavy
    I will share the load...
And when your heart is breaking,
    My hand is here to hold.

When your life is upside down
     With sadness creeping in
I will be a listening ear
      A comfort and a friend.

When everyone you've trusted in
       Turns and runs away
My love will give you strength
       Carry you through each new day.

And when the night becomes too dark
        So that you cannot see...
Know that by your side
         Is where you will find Me.


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Through these verses I divulge my poetical expressions
to ignore criticism and not hoot while extricating my ideals;
my work is marked by indisputable integrity,
more plausible than a woman's chastity!

Recognition and deserving honor are nice,
but they are the least rewards I seek,
best of the best...who ever was ?
Worst of the worst.. I cannot be!

I fall between these two, lest I fault
and fairly deserve the dungeon... 
the crowds not applauding my effort,
not  proclaiming me a champion!  

My words are soave, sometimes as rigid as hooves of a horse...
reminding all that I am as human as anyone else who bleeds and rejoices, 
but  my creativity is not satiated by inferior knowledge or bizarre notions,
although my glory is never accompanied by real expectations!

Like Homer and Virgil the masters of ancient poetry,
I do praise their work, and recognize their genius shining in their word;
Troy fell and Rome rose to prominence by a bloody sword;
I don't fall by trickery, I stand on my fortress of liberty!

My obligation must be fulfilled by ardous work, I will not depart,
or merely linger on...until this mission is faithfully accomplished, and this voice,
before fading, invokes its last sunset to finally fall silent;
and if readers acclaim me, I have succeeded in my poetical expressions!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Remember The Father

It seems to me we notice
All the little things
Only when he yells
Or his words sadness brings

He isn’t some giant hero
Sent from outer space 
He is just a man
Offering loves embrace

He gave us a smile
Then he gives us all
He is always here
No matter when we call

He reaches out to hold us
Protects us from all harm
He might be harsh at times
He offers open arms

He gives us his attention
Tucks one into bed
Listens to our questions
Kisses our forehead

We never stop to thank him
Expecting him to be there
He is only human
There is no time to spare

Life is to short
To let this slip by
Just call The Father today
Even if you just say “Hi”

Take the time to remember
All he is to you
Remind him that you love him
And that your love is true

Whether it is your father
Or one that you have known
Send out a special greeting
In case they are alone

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Message in our Soup

Smiles, and laughter form
From sweet words from a friend
My heart lights up with wonder
I pray this doesn't end

Shadows haven't seen my face
Since your friendship came along
I hear a smile within your words
As beautiful as a song

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Never Stop

(Dedication to a very dear friend) 

When things don't seem to go your way and the load 
You carry now is so heavy to bear one single day more 
That's when you feel like you may be just falling down 
And realize that things are taking its toll like never before 

Bear in mind, that you can always depend on Him and me too 
You can always stop and push all of your troubles away 
And leave behind all your cares and your woes any time too 
Just try to find some sort of joy and happiness in every single day 

Concentrate a little harder in every thing that you do,the choice is yours, 
Focus and reach all your goals, take the walk, right to the top! 
Start today by fighting, and reaching out, for a better tomorrow 
Achieve and make every single one of your "dreams" come true and never stop! 

Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 

June 13, 2009 

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Holy Days (revised)

In the darkest days of Winter,
when only snow retains the glow
of sunshine and summer days;
we go within our memories
to the heart of Home.

We peek deep within wide open doors,
full of light and hearth fires glow;
full of warmth and wonder,
for the lore of Home.

These are the days most Holy;
gifted by the Lord of Love;
true Holy days in the womb of wonder;
where we are welcomed home.

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In the dawning of my manhood
As boy grew into form
I dreamed of being half a man
With a need to be reborn

I hoped to take his temperament
And all decisive ways
But I went on to do things hastily
Succumbing to teenage days

When I finally thought I grew to be
A man to take control
I saw my life was not like his
And had to take a hold

My father was my example
But, I had failed to be
Half the man I saw him as
I had failed, you see

I put things in perspective
I needed then to change
I stopped as quickly as I could
My life, I rearranged

Now, that I am older
I have a son like me
But, he is like the boy I was
I hope one day he’ll see

I must remain steadfast
Let faith remain with me
I hope to be half the man
That he would try to be

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Holding the Key

I could never reach the stars so high
Above me twinkling in the sky
But now, you are my star
And the sky isn't seeming so far

You are watching over me
And to my heart you hold the key
The sky was always dark at night
Until you cam and made it bright

You're voice is the music in my life
You take away all of my strife
You make my heart flutter and soar
You give me diamonds more and more

Mistakes are nothing but a paper cut
But we will always get out of the rut
You are not a drug but I am addicted
And there is no way I can get convicted

I could never reach the stars so high
Above me twinkling in the sky
Now the sky isn't seeming so far
Because now you are my shining star

I wrote this one, last November, but after we broke up I shoved it away.  I only just found it, and I am ready 
to share it.

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On the wind's current,
face-swept and braving fret;
I push forward...facing a tough day,
never fainthearted: merrily drifting away!

I challenge my strength,
to fuse more enthusiasm;
to beat the puzzled clouds with ingenuity,
and they, frustrated, initiate a plot against me!

I laugh, making them infuriated,
and they respond with stronger blows;
thinking they can't be imitated!
Don't they know that I watch all their moves?

Call me a marine or a sky-diver,
I may not look too convincing for a liar;
the open sky lets me on the wind's current,
lifting me off the earth to deliver my stunt!

Where are my rivals?  Are they hiding or 
planning my imminent defeat?
I may be too naive to cheat,
but I am as swift as a hunting panther!

On the wind's current so rough,
aware and attentive, I make my living;
chasing the fearless eagles with a bluff,
vulnerable...yes, but unafraid and willing! 

Copyright by Andrew Crisci

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She carried you with anxiety into her heavy womb,
and listened that gentle heartbeat...
much quiter than a drum's beat;
alone to hear your baby's voice in the silent room!

Love and sacrifice that's what the word, " Mother " means
to any small heart which is fully loved, but still weak; 
and her warm hands never tiring of cuddling and touching...
will, indeed, protect you from many harms coming!

And didn't her ever-sweet eyes move away from your cosy crib,
to tend to those infant's needs with life-giving milk?
and before her lullaby ended, you rushed to sleep...
being watched over by the love' angel to weave your first dream!

Little darling, with eyes reflecting the color she herself owns,
how excited she gets when you stare at her and wiggle your toes!
Little darling, struggling to say the words , " I love you, mommy! "
your expression is enough to make her proud and happy!

Love and sacrifice are sacred words that outweight the cost,   
and devotion and dedication are the bonds she can't break;
adorable one, she'll guide you down your dark path
with the wisdom's light, so that you may never be lost!  

Copyright 2009 by Andrew crisci