Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
Their petals are falling as their colors change
It wasn’t this way before but is it strange?
These roses are dying in delicate sweet sorrow
Will their love shed too? Or will it see tomorrow?
Petals and love falling slow like soft snowflakes
A little change in season is all it takes,
But will these roses bloom again in a new morn?
Will their love come back to greatly adorn?
Will their beauty be gone forever once it fades away?
Or will it come back to make everything okay?
For what will the roses be worth if their beauty dies forever?
Will the image and value from them permanently sever?
Will the light in their eyes suddenly become dark?
As their splendor and significance steadily grow stark?
Or will they rise like light at the beginning of dawn?
And be reborn more beautiful than a swan?
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
I have that wish in my heart
many of you must have the same,
a disease free healthy world
forget all those cursed names.
Many of you must have the same
a dream of disease free world,
forget all those cursed names
let that joyful world unfurled.
A dream of disease free world
where people love to live,
let that joyful world unfurled
where everyone is ever active.
Where people love to live
children forget curse of pain,
where everyone is ever active
no disease to drive insane.
Children forget curse of pain
old age ceases to be a problem,
no disease to drive insane
everybody a winner in life's game.
Old age ceases to be a problem
a disease free healthy world,
everybody a winner in life's game
I have that wish in my heart.
Placement: 3rd; (December 2011)
Contest:Your Christmas Miracle
By :kashinath karmakar
Bubbling brown ridges strike
The confining dimensions in a hostile yawn:
Walk the world no longer, an ending beckons,
A precipice builds moments where swallows wager wings
On new seed: New breeds.
Falling buys the assurance of seconds
From a sinking well.
Remember us when the globe begins to slip,
Bang drums for our pity:
Our crescendos mean less than meaningless.
And then, when spheres crack, continue
On the whorl of a thumb,
Stretching hope to nothing.
Dear Dear Heart.
A Valentines poem
You stayed strong through thick and thin
you stayed and helped me through.
I'd be six feet under ground
if it hadn't been for you.
You warned me time and time again
that you couldn't take much more.
But I would turn and go back to
where we had been before.
You taught me the way to heal
is to learn to love again.
I know times that it was you
to need reminded now and then.
It ain't been an easy road
as we took turns in the lead.
Laying there by you by me
we watched each other bleed.
Sometimes it seems I couldn't hear
the things you tried to say.
Then there we go back in again
where it's you that had to pay.
I know you doubt what comes from me
when I say I've learned a lot.
I swear to you these words are true
I know you're all I got.
Still one thing remains undone
and that's where I've got to start.
Have a happy Valentines Day
to you my dear, dear heart.
Edwin C Hofert
I'm in a razor blade state of mind,
A place of darkness that's hard to find.
I sleep tangled in a blanket of pain,
On a mattress full of mayhem.
The darkness surrounds me
And there's nothing I can do.
My past has become the lightning rod,
The only means by which my future
Can seem to conduct itself.
But who do I think I'm fooling;
What's an orchestra without a conductor?
I once sang out loud,
But now I'm drowned.
The body electric left
Somewhere in a field,
Where it ceases to breathe.
We have no hope here,
We have no hope left.
My mind is like my verse;
Jumbled and pointlessly poignant,
Scarred and scared and sacred,
It means so much nothing
That it's bound to mean something.
I am everything I despise,
Nothing that I admire;
I am sweat and I transpire,
Not so wet like fire.
I'm in a razor blade state of mind,
I tell the truth but I'm a liar.
A DROP OF TEA
Dawn lays down a carpet of light
Curtains of rain gather on the wind
Lift and swirl
On nature and day
As they make their way down
To hold the ground in place
Some drops fall after a time
Through an imposing hole in the ancient cabin
Formed by a meteor at some distant point in time
The structure receives them one by one
They fill a cup
Stationed atop a hot wood stove
A boiling point arrives
To serve the drops of day
In time for a good morning
And a spot of tea
When Virgins Emerge
Virgins dwell on celibacy when they emerge
Even though the agenda might stray to setting dynamite
To lighting candles, eating celery, and hanging everything in sight
Displaying imaginary tiny toys and boys with strings and hooks
Around their necks as ornaments
Christmas trees come to mind
Virgins begin to find their spirits under there
Surprises give thier rise to blossoming
All Incongruities abound and bounce
Like Easter bunnies, they multiply rapidly in Spring
Such women naturally adapt
Are adept at math
Virgins lie and wait
If thoughts could think
Puritanical thoughts would starve for food
Suffocate from education
No need for birth control
Being pure of soul
No need for debate
Or hesitation concerning masturbation
Convenience stores will do just fine
When women explode into the universe
To find their feminine side
Unwind, have a smoke, a child or two
Virgins don’t just converge, they merge with it