Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain
There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home
Copyright © Jesse James Forster
I do not know?
It's Christmas! Christmas!
That time of year
When people are filled...
With holiday cheer?
Yeah right. . .
I really do wish it were true
But people are people
Through and through
It's not about happiness anymore
Or in respect to what matters.
In reality it concerns what you get
And the food that is piled on the platters.
What has happened to the world of today?
Where is the 'loving and giving...'?
Now it is all just me, me, me.
Is this a nightmare? Or are we actually living.
Yep we might have a lot of things
Hang on! Let's add some more
It isn't the family that I'm expecting
But the postman knocking at the door.
When the topic turns to Christmas cheer
Lets go stuff our faces...
Break out all that lovely beer!
Chuck away those graces!
But... Suddenly the month is over
There go all the gifts you gave
Your debt payments crawl closer and closer
And you become a material slave.
Copyright © Annie De Lys
Inspired by Andreas contest, though in ballade form. not for contest.
That awful Christmas day
The sun was shining bright outside
Christmas day was here
We’d all enjoyed our Christmas lunch
Then drank some wine and beer
Everyone wore happy smiles
It was that kind of day
When everyone was filled with cheer
And the atmosphere was gay.
Then we smelled that acrid smoke
It was heavy in the air
I looked outside and fear hit me
The flames were everywhere
A fire had started in the bush
And now it was upon us
Everyone was in blind panic
Creating such a fuss
All of us fled from the house
And gathered there outside
As the fire devoured our lovely home
I was stunned, I could have cried
For nothing could be done at all
The firemen came too late
On that sad, sad Christmas day
Much fear life did create.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Entombed behind isolation walled
A haunting malice trapped me within.
Crouching beneath shadows shroud,
Leering eyes pierce.
Through darkness’s pitch black,
Pacing beast intercepting motions,
Movements, mocking my,
Feeble attempts to evade frenzy's,
Deceptions deceiver, silver tongued,
Weaver, spewing lies deceit.
Intricately aligning it's widow,
Feasting on innocence betrayal.
Heckling, laughter echoes, against,
A chilling appetizing, as if pleased,
At malice’s intent.
Fiendishly, delighting in torturing,
It’s human pet.
A vacant mumbling feeling over,
A deeper anger begins to rage,
Rebelling against hatred’s,
Motivated to survive beyond spectral,
Hear my disgust, creature,
I shall destroy thee.
Leave me alone, screaming aloud,
Sanity's domain gives way.
In musty halls empty hollows,
An odorous stench.
Fills mine senses,
Cease mortal miscreant,
None leave here alive,
Shudders blood runs cold down raw
Veins nerve endings,
A deepening realizations rushes,
The conscious mind,
I'm deaths play thing.
To be pounced upon, a toy mouse,
Caught between claws,
Extracting, retracting at whims invoking.
Invisible hands grasp choking life's,
Feeling every heartbeat slowing,
Stinging painfully ringing at ear,
Oblivion's mute murmurs never part,
Lips tightly closed.
Let mercy's fallen be forgiven,
Beyond hells hidden regions,
A place devoid of spiritual salvation.
Foul demonic spirit haunting,
A madman's kingdom,
It whispers to me in sweet melodies,
Now we begin, and you truly belong to me,
With satisfactions grimace, it smiles.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn
flash out of sync from her tree....
she can't remember
laughter in the snow,
only a grave beneath it
For Contest: Sad Tanka
Sponsored by Andrea and Susan
Copyright © Carrie Richards
A phantom beauty sheathed within a gown of utter darkness,
Stalks the lonely avenues of Los Angeles, seeking in vengeances
Revenge for her murder to bring him unto justice’s final damnation!
On the corner of thirty-Ninth Street she pauses, in reverence for
The mangled corpus sliced in half, and posed in displays erotic
Subjective stance for the gawking voyeurs to view, in pleasures
Oh sweet mistress of the tragic, weeping with the bloodless tears
Of deaths draining futility, again she begins the walk of the tormented
Beast, the black Dahlia of mysteries suspense, trailing in the dark,
Within her silken shroud of her burial gown, crying outwardly
For mercy’s salvation, yet it is only the dead silence of the
Wintery breeze that answers in the stillness!
The burnt amber leaves of autumn, are crushed beneath the
Heavy feet, of a she ghost screaming within the nights empty
Hallows, beckoning unto the lord above, to return her life
Essence that was stolen by a slayers sharpened blade of
Degradation and mutilation, why the howling banshee
Yells, why what was my crime, to be tormented so!
The newspapers deadlines read, the Black Dahlia, was
Chopped, hacked in half in the middle, scrubbed by her
Assassin killer, whom slashed her chicks into a jokers
But this ebony dame, with the eyes of graying death,
Strides within the ethereal limbo between heaven and
Hell, begging for the after life’s illumination to set her
Free, from the netting of betrayals unjustified torment!
A figure of distinction, heckles in the black abyss beyond,
This fine gentleman birthed within the household of the
Elect, tact’s another trophies photo upon his wall of
Glories victims, she the women known as Elizabeth Short,
The black Dahlia!
Within this doctors black leather bag, lies secrets never spoken
Of in the light of day, clean are his instruments shimmery to the shine,
These slashers sharpened slicers cutting without mercy’s discrimination
Of depths degree, to please this serial killing physician of death!
Within the house holds of the elect and wealthy, a gentleman
Chameleon hides, protected by the birth rights of the cultured
Upper class, no one suspects this learned man of any wrongs doing,
The perfect cover, to stand right out in the open acquiescing others,
Of the bloody deeds his done!
Within the vaults of deception, on the high hills of rich and famous,
A demonic doctor of death, waits in the shadows for an unsuspecting
Victim to stride within his butchering claws of death, and the black
Dahlia searches for him, seething with vengeances fury!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn