My Real Name
All I want from this life
is that you know my real name,
not the one my mother gave me
in remembrance of no one
she ever knew other than my father,
but rather the one which says
that I once lightly touched
that I lived too long
in the sticky pit of addiction,
that I was a high-diver,
easily piercing the
membrane of reality,
that I was once a magician,
a weaver of incantations,
the alchemist who found gold,
that I danced with you
among the eastern clouds
on those fine mornings,
my suit of light glowing
yellow and orange and red,
that I lay with you
in the chocolate darkness
of summer’s night,
dew like starlight in your hair,
that I was cloud-shadow
flying up Yellowstone valley
on cold mountain air,
vanishing over the near horizon,
That’s my name,
all of it and more that I can’t recall.
I know you will remember.
Copyright © Jack Jordan
We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time
hearing the news before most of the World did
He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected
He had loves and passions from many places
deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
Not only did he love music and inspire all
He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul
The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened
It was John Denver's plane that went down
Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial
So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
always in loving memory
OH babe , do we hate you go ~
Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
"Leaving on a Jet Plane "
Copyright © Shanity Rain
In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.
For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.
At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.
Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.
When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.
A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.
So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.
The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.
In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.
A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.
Copyright © Jemmy Farmer
Earned his name~
Suffered all the pain~
Under the hands of men~
Settled with hate against him~
Compassionately he forgave them still~
He loved us then and he always will~
Rising he gave us the right to survive~
Intoxicating he is to all of our lives~
Supplying our each and every need~
Thank you father, For blessing me~
Our king above kings~
Understanding he brings~
Radiant he is indeed~
Living for Christ is the greatest thing~
Only in him may you rest in peace~
Remember each day to trust and forgive~
Divided from him is no way to live~
Copyright © Tyesha Ehigiator
A Poet , a dreamer , a man named Michael.
Named after my father and also a saint.
Drifting through time with my pen I paint.
Just a soul gliding in and out of God's cycle.
My name is known as the Godfather's last son.
Also a star who wore a little white glove.
But mostly just me who writes from love.
An Angel I'm not , but there's no harm in my fun.
Though I'm not Michael the second.
I tried to fill my dad's big shoes.
We coached together whether win or lose.
Such times imbedded in my heart as his son.
Now my own man and later in life poet.
I share my life in words to those who can't see me.
I hope to touch a few of those who read and feel me.
Each new write is another way for me to show it.
Now you have a clearer view of Michael your friend.
A confused life at times but now has found his sight.
With Rosanna by my side all is good, and life is just right.
I'm stronger for it all and never will this heart bend.
"What's In a Name Contest" by The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup
Copyright © Michael J. Falotico
She never did come back home that night
Me pacing the floor
Walking for miles in search of her
Leaving me torn apart
Spewing with the turmoil of wondering
Just what happened to her
Who had she been with and why?
Engraved on to my mind
etched in my heart
her love, her sighs
Spiking my tongue
her name cries out
My heart splinters
my gut receives another jolt
God I loved that girl
and didn't even know for certain until today
But now it is too late
I left it too long
to proclaim my love for her
afraid of the pain
which comes from being knocked back
still even that is not as I suffer now
in the whispering of her name
I look in the mirror
yet see her reflection stare back at me
smiling and tossing back her flowing locks
her very presence is felt in abundance
Her huge eyes dark as purest deepest sapphires
class more expensive than purest diamonds
with a charismatic magnetism radiating out
overwhelming all within reach of her personality
Stolen from this world she was
No notice to anyone that she would be leaving
Nothing makes sense anymore
And I long to know if we shall meet again
Some new day in a realm beyone ours
Another time another place
I'll wait for her as I hope she will for me
For true love will never die
Based on a true story from Christmas when a young woman went missing - found murdered... My thoughts went to those around her and inspired to write came this, but I have changed the girls name for the sake of those that knew her... So sad to still have these things going onin our world...
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Copyright © Jay Loveless
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW."
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
alone she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
Do eye need a kis. Eye need a girl to kis. Eye have a girl that eye can kis.
Eye have kis her in the rain. Eye have kis her in mye heart. Eye have kis her in
mye start of every day for years of love. Eye have only to the kis to go to read more
into kis to find the place she dwells in this old mortal frame of yearning
dwelling place. The kis is purple bliss of alarm blazing love waking me from
death like a Snow White Charmed young man a captive smith to Pocahontas
fame. A dandelion flower lost in the caverns of the depths Ianthe drowning mee
in sea ward tufts of left and right bouts of beating on the air to keep from sliding
to the depths of drowning in her arms of love. A leap at faith a death reprieved
from Grounded Grave a leaping portent making waves of Gragon wings. An
attitude of love refrained in every tuft of wind again the sound of love the beating
of the water on the roof of tin the sound of kis inside the wind and rain. A younger
man and woman would have hardware in the way the nose and yes the nose gay
and the corners of the vampyrific fangs. The center of the tongue is one the belly
button too. The snooker table has a cue it’s called the ball extender bridge it's a
cheater it’s made to let the basest man to reach her in the wind. There is so
many problems with people the gas is oughta sight at the pumps this country is
no longer prominent but a third world country going south. The end of time has
come and arrived the ruthless and worthless rule in the name of god money and
time. Take a number wait in line what’s your name please fill this out and wait.
The number of his namme. Have you got a credit card or payment of any kind iff
you can give me seven dollars for an office visit eye will help you the doctor is inn.
The man was lighting a candle in front of the computer and the lieberrian asked
him what do you think you are doing he said eye cannot see the screen. There is
not very many rich people in all those cars on the highway whizzing by the most of
them is middle class or less the plastic hose on the back seat is a siphon they
use it to get gas. Eye had too many problems at home growing up to ever be a
father. The age factor plus the drug indicator keeps me from trying to further my
benefactor with fodder or with mudder. The morality of this hurried fable of
dividing documents is this a kis.
Copyright © charles hice
If the lovely breeze had a name
we could drift together as two dandelion wishes
floating wanton on foamy winds.
If the river were rolling, gently
we could slide in and swim
for hours, without rushing
and love is like that.
Love is like still water
standing so deep in a vessel
yet so easily broken upon the smallest of stones;
scattered, and yet-
from this another river begins
(as you begin)
How lovely if you had a name
I would call out to you
and I would hear your reply as
the wind blowing, the water rushing
and not your echoes
as you trickled across so many small, jagged stones
Copyright © Meggan Rogalski
There is a spirit that watches over you
In the daylight hours, and nightime too.
You may not think that they are there
But there is a way to make you aware.
I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
Because I was interested and I wanted to know.
His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
To learn of his presence once made me fear.
Because what you do is watched all the day
The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.
I guess you think I'm being naive
Trust your faith, if you believe.
If you want to know your angel's name
There is a way to find out which is no game.
Say a prayer for three days in a row
And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.
If you believe in him he will tell you true
If not, he may be silent to you.
I know of others who have tried this I can say
Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.
When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
Some, I know, will hear that singular word.
It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.
These spiritual beings are here for us all
Sometimes they wait just to here us call.
And when you do wouldn't if be grand
If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!
Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.
As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?
And if you try but do not hear their name
Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.
I know many will think I'm crazy with this
But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.
So try it yourself and see if in kind
If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.
Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
Even if they never speak again, you'll know...they're there.
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak
Today I saw a teardrop
Just resting on my sleeve
He said his name was "Heartache"
And he came to watch me grieve
He showed me many horrible things
This drop of liquid pain
I tried to wipe this tear away
But it turned into a stain
The stain said, "Look a little closer,
And tell me what you see"
The more I looked the more I tried
To rid this stain from me
Another tear ran down my face
And was sitting on my cheek
My sleeve again wiped it away
Then he started to speak
He said his name was "Past Regrets"
"And the things you see are true"
But as I peered inside this tear
All I could see was You
Copyright © Larry Belt
An empty room was the scenery to his death
Not a single living soul was present to witness the events that took place
A sliding door covered with a mirror spoke back to him with his own reflection words spoken and breath
A change he saw in the playful mirror, he had a different face
A broken heart powered his spirit, a spirit that had lost all sense of direction
Fake, selfish to the heart he crawled into his path
All along yearning for his fathers attention
A feeling that he never met, for he was truly lost in the yearning of affection
Anger flowed in his heart
Hope was locked up, it wasn't free always it had a bail
He never truly mean to harm anyone, yet the ones closest to him felt it all, saw his spirit fail
Alas all was lost, his family, his dreams slapped him awake, awake to his reality in part
All alone, at the bottom of the pit
His heart was bleeding and not a soul around to aid him, he fell to his knees
With his heart in his hand, reaching for the sky, he asked Jesus to take his heart and dwell in it
An ugly howl of the mind with the spirit and soul all at one, gasping for air, for life he said "please"
Shattered, his all, he was nothing but dirt with dirt
His eyes blinded by the endless tears could not see the sky, a beautiful night it was
He asked with all his mind, heart and spirit to be forgiven for his past, for his fault for his flaws
At point zero he blacked out, he died
In his death he saw a light, brighter that the sun itself, it blinded the heart
A presence he had never felt before came over him, yet there was no fear
Pleaing to his understanding, he knew it was good, and that shortly he would awake from his sleep
Wrong, for the light drew closer and it even spoke, at the words that vented into him, he did weep
A sense of security, of purity overwhelmed his body
Afraid he was not, for His Lord was the light
In the beginning, from the very start He was there to guide him into life herself, teaching him how to fight
Darkpoet died that night, but a new being was born! In the name of Jesus Christ, he was called Jeremiah
-God, father I have been seeking you all my life,
Here I am Lord to serve You, My King.
Jeremiah I shall be, to write for You Father.
Jeremiah Eduardo Orozco
Copyright © Edward Orozco
I do not know?
My name is abuse that is all I need to say
But just for your sake I will go on anyway.
I take pride in putting people in financial bind.
My favorite thing to do is to work on your mind.
I will destroy all you can be and make you believe that you deserve me.
After awhile you have no self-esteem left all you can comprehend
Are only the thoughts of suicide and death?
There is another part of me the physical side.
This something I have to be very cleaver on for this is very hard to hide.
I will take you from drinking soda out of mugs.
To entertainment by sniffing and using all hard-core drugs
I will take a beautiful woman and turn her into a punching bag.
When I am finished she will look like an old washed up hag.
Yes I can do all of this and yes I do mean to brag
I will turn faces all black and blue.
Oh look out I am going to get you too.
Oh no I’m not finished yet.
I can destroy your emotions too do you want to make a bet
I will take a confident man and turn him into a child playing in the sand.
The most pleasure I get is to destroy relationships, they no longer were a
When I am finished with you nothing will ever be the same.
You will always be keeping your guard up always being in shame.
I will take all your family love
Then turn it into hate to shove.
I love to destroy remember my name is abuse.
What form of pleasure do you want me to use?
Copyright © Sandra Larkins
I came from the islands in the Far East
Where the bird of prey will rise
That’s being prophesied, but I’m sure
I’m not that One, for I possess not the golden rule
Though, I searched for years in Lenin’s name
Instead, I saw an empire fell from fame
Leaving behind my Caucasian brother
Watching his home town turned grey
When the desperate bombed it
By fate, once was a sailor with wan smile
Sailing the deep blue to catch the elusive dreams
Yet, I ended up alone, drinking ouzo
In the queen city of the Gentiles
Where I found my mortal half
She wrapped me, with her love
Now, I juggle my time from here and
To the city of lights, to be with my bloods
But my skin betrayed me
One day, when I wanted to see my god
Imprisoning me for hours and les bleus
Were questioning the colour of my skin, but
Thanks to Heaven Above, for I’m still alive
Why do others can easily spoil the beauty?
Of my beloved, and yet, I can’t even glance
Theirs, nor taste just the smell of their soil
Without being questioned
Or, being stared from head to toe
What if I do the same?
Non, don’t panic! I will not, for
I've no power to change the name of the game
Maybe some day, but right now
I’ll focus myself to my new found joy
In the arts of writings
And will keep honing my craft to perfection
Till I free the miseries deep inside…
Since I saw the first dawn thirty nine years ago
In the beautiful archipelago
Bearing the Spanish name
For she was sealed tight with a fist
People, unite and let’s make peace
Listen to the messenger of these last days
The simple things I really wish….. for all
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago
he that walks alone has now created a safe passage for himself, he has caused his life to
be perfect in his sights, he has said in his heart there is no GOD, he has caused pain in
the lives of others with the thoughts of himself blameless, she has not cried ourt to the
LORD in truth, but has prostituted the word of GOD, she has used witchcraft in the lives
of others and caused them to go astray without the LORD, he has cheated and lied on the
people of GOD, she has stood on the corners of life and claimed them unto satan, yet GOD
has all power, he has charge over the adversary, he has placed the evil one at bay, he
haS PRERARED A PLACE FOR THE CHILDREN OF SATAN WHICH IS hell, THE lord HAS CAUSED US TO
BE CONSTAN5TLY LOOKING FOR HIS RETURN, HE HAS GIVEN US A COMFORTER, HE HAS DEMONSTRATED
HIS AWSON LOVE FOR MANKIND, by giveing his only SON as a ransomk for all that come unto
him we have but to ask, he has asked nothing of us yet he offers so very much,l if we but
call upon the name that is above all names, and that name is JESUS CHRIST, and bleive
we shall be saved, and live forever, in the kingdom of GOD, it has cost nothing yet the
LORD looks on our sins in love and so gracefully forgives us, what shall man give that
can equal the giveing of so great a GOD, can we create any thing from nothing, can we as
man breath life into lifelessness, can we as man create a new heaven, can we as man
conquire death hell and the grave, can we as man forgive sin do we have a heaven to place
the saints of GOD in, do we as man sit at the right hand of GOD, where in does our
understanding begain, shall we forever think of ourselves as our own malkers, are we to
forever not give GOD the glory, for all glory is his, all praise shall go TOWARDS GOD, we
should at all times praise GOD with a constant p[raise from our mouths, we shall not be
moved if we are in CHRIST, for he shall foght all battles that come before us, he shall
forever LOVE us, MY FRIEND. NO GREAT A LOVE HATH A MAN THAN HE LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR A
FRIEND, consider who is lost, then consider, where is the lost.
Copyright © jerome perdue
Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame,
Swirling down, separated out and mixed.
If you’ve seen it, it’s broken;
If you’ve heard it, it’s shredded;
If you’ve read it, it’s rewritten.
It's really quite unlikely to be fixed.
You’re cutting up holiday snaps
and pasting them onto card.
And you’re scrambling madly
to hide the mess on the floor
As your mum yells for cleanliness
From behind your bedroom door.
3001 puzzle pieces and you’re jamming them together,
No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether.
You’ve got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds
“What comes… what comes next?”
You’ve got two roots in the soil
“What comes… what comes next?”
Your mother is sitting in the hall
With a scarf tied round her neck,
Her back pressed up against the wall
As she deals the jigsaw deck.
3001 pieces in her hands,
Mixed with childhood drawings
And grains of sand.
She lays out seven in a line,
Which you place between the two and two.
“Oh, but that and that won’t rhyme!”
“Don’t you think that this one will just do?”
And your father’s disapproving in the kitchen,
“You don’t need no occult nonsense,
Or a system to order out your brain”
He just stands there “focussed”
Over a pot on a blue/green flame,
Subconsciously mumbling while stooped,
“Look here Son, look, I’m making poa-tery soup.”
But you would never tell him that,
Just like you’ll never be finished, ever.
No-one ever is
Even if they know they’re doing it or not.
My grandfather died last week,
The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man
That you’re ever going to meet.
The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat.
They said that there was something wrong there,
Something wrong with his brain,
That there was something strange there
They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall,
When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open,
And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.
Copyright © Chris McCartney
My name is Love
I am the name everyone wants to hear
You pray your whole life just to hear it once
It is a name that can comfort
Bring two people together
Making their lives better, happier
It’s also a name that can frighten
Ruin a relationship if it is used to early
Destroy hope if it is used to late
Four letters, one syllable, one word
That brought down the walls of Troy
Made Romeo and Juliet legends
Empires were built and destroyed because of me
Two lovers started a new life by just saying my name
My name is Love
Use my name sparingly
Only with an open heart
Only when it is spoken in truth
Will it be the one name spoken
That will heal a broken heart
Bring a smile to a young girls face
Give hope to an innocent child
And keep the world turning as it always should
Copyright © R. e. taylor
I do not know?
You put your name in a box with a million others not knowing what the prize will be.
A person mixes them around
And your name gets called.
You go onto the stage and wonder what the prizes will be.
The woman says choose door 1 or door 2.
You chose door 1 hoping it will be a car or a trip to Hawaii.
Door number 1 opens and you realize it is just a bunch of bikes.
You get down at first but then realize it was worth the risk.
For many people would love to get a chance at winning a prize even if they don’t win.
For life is about taking risks.
Some go our way and some don’t.
But at least we don’t wonder forever what will happen if we don’t.
For live is too short to wonder about what will happen.
So take the risk and it will be worth while no matter what happens.
Copyright © Christina Wiliams
I do not know?
My name is life,
I'm what you live.
My name is love,
I'm what you give.
My name is courage,
Through you I flow.
My name is wisdom,
I'm what you know.
My name is patience,
I'm hard to find.
My name is unique,
I am one of a kind.
Copyright © Alana Tye
White board…names written hori-
To go pee…right when class starts –
THAT’S just wrong…
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!
Not using lunchtime to do
No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir
World encircles the name game
Its upholds an identity for one
Keeping nicknames are no fun
To introduce Sneha is my name...
Love it each time i hear it called
It means pure and intense love
Theming to spread message of dove
Ocassions have my name enthralled
A symbol of my parents commitment
Holding unsaid promises and duty
Not derived from any famous beauty
It holds deeply woven sentiments
Whats in name is asked by many
It does tell lot about person’s nature
My name describes my behaviour
Embracing life with love phase be any
My name is a gift from my parents
To make me my own world of truth
It means sweeter like nature’s fruit
Carries many unsaid expectations
SNEHA-Simply nurturing each human always
Means more than what i can here express
As its not just about a name to impress
Its fulfilling the unsaid bonds in pain or solace...
Copyright © Sneha Agarwal
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins
with central time
worldwide for now
every country rearanging their scheduales to live a different day
the names of their days all different
except for the day with a name of destiny
one day these three different days
will be born doing this strategically
waiting for the day
the world has the same day worldwide
surprise holiday to celebrate
by working with your will to do good
world peace is inevitable in this way
the third time the day is the same all over the world
you will be prepared to name that day paradise
one day of the week renamed from paradise
one of these words to replace yesterday, today or tomorrow strategically
eventually you will have paradise, destiny, tomorrow
eventually you will realise that the best attempt at this you will call tomorrow
the day that never comes to strive towards as paradise and destiny continue to improve
by respecting death you earn intelligence
by caring for the meaning of life you earn your heart
by understanding your will to do good you earn your courage
the life experience of these three things is your soul
with the devil holding out for a good one
needing help with realising a good thing
this offers you the ability to see through the illusion of fear which is forever disappearing
at this point you dreams can now come true
Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson
Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness.
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.
Copyright © Dave Collins
I do not know?
There was a king once, along with his hearts queen....
Their fascinating empire was an amazing moment in time
Far above the other kingdoms amid this world they stood
So much so that, their eyes looked despisingly down upon
Certain inhabitants created by the very same hand as they themselves
Driven by deepened emotions born along the course of histories many tales....
Superior they were, within almost every conceivable way it did seem
How could anyone or anything ever be, considered!?
Hate thus birthed itself to become but, an achilles heel once more
Before, the foundations of purpose were ever layed; these, revelations....
A darkness of soul and spirit extended itself, as a cancerous plague
Permeating this empires throne and people; ascending unto the highest heavens
Where the Creator of all looked upon, they, once radiant lights of beauty ~
"He," had held so deeply inside of "His" glory with, the most magical of "Love!"
Centuries unfolded like pages from within a book as, tears overflowed
Like rivers towards the waiting seas; heads bowed, to taste miseries pain?
Until one day the Creators heart had seen enough and, compassions light....
Reached "His" tender hand into the despised lowly humanity before their eyes and
Lifted a child within "His" wonderous palms; majestic and lovely, infinite palms ~
Unto their kingdoms door, he was thus there sent; a messenger, amid their mist!?
In the name of, "Love!"
Copyright © John Rhinem
Scene 3 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascillity - Harry's Room
"Do you know this Young man; Harry?" Yes his name is Kenny. "Where did you meet him?" We went to School Together. "What was the name of the School?" It was umm, I don't recall. " You see Mr. Potter he can't place Faces to his past. He may recognize your face but does not know Why or where. Let's go down to the office now, You can sign the intake papers. "NO no! Chef who won the World Series in 2004??" " World Series that's Baseball right, I should know this, was it the Yankees or the Cardinals??" Mr. Potter you told me yourself ; if he doesn't remember the 2004 World Series then he should be committed" " Chef please Think: surely You haven't forgotten "Ma Rock, Barbara Jean, Liz, or YOUR LIFE, Your Existence, Your FOREVER, Your Wife LENORE"
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock Time stands still for no one, but memories of Time, are never buried
"Ma Rock, finally a Mother that LOVED Me. Barbara Jean Gorelick, the Woman that Holds my Heart, the POETESS that healed my Broken Heart, Liz, my best student in 12 + years
of teaching, She died in a car accident 2 months before Graduation. LENORE my Most Only beLOVEd, soon we shall join as ONE with our GOD. Dr. Mendelsohnn I'm going Home Where I can be With All I LOVE"
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire
I do not know?
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
to all of you that think facebook is just a game
posting all your business without any shame
now dont you think it's just a little strange
sharing your life with people that only knows you by name
our profiles has our name and our address too
now what if someone was actually stalking you
you really would'nt be that hard to find
and that's a little scary with a world so full of crime
there is always someone out there that just uses this site
only to find out what you were doing last night
and all this information is available to your kid
so they can see all that you're doing or did
still you tell all you plan to do
not realizing everyone who's friends with you
so next time you post try thinking twice
do you really want to share everything about your life
hey you dont have to listen to what i say
keep posting your life anyway
and we'll just say it was an act of carma
that you got caught up in this facebook drama
Copyright © Robert Walker