With just a little coaxing I can remember when
Excitement ruled my early days when you'd come home again.
I was a boy, just seven or eight and you were fully grown.
And it was a very special time when "Brother" would come home.
You and your special Mildred, The two of you and "Wart"---
You see, I can't remember the three of you apart.
Since you were up and married before I was ever born,
I can't remember all the things that happened on the farm.
But, things I do remember -- I can remember well --
Like the gifts you brought at Christmas none others could excel. –
Like the places you would take us, Mildred, me and "Wart" --
We'd race the train to Cameron if that old Ford would start. –
Like the times we'd all go riding and it seemed the car would wiggle --
We'd look and see you steal a kiss and me and "Wart" would giggle.
Looking back, I realize the young love you both shared
Began a life together that God himself prepared.
So, no matter where I wander,
No matter where I roam ---
No thrills can match the ones I knew
When "Brother" would come home.
This was written for my oldest brother and his wife, Mildred, on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary.
During WW2 he held a most critical position with the government in New Mexico.
“Brother” was a nickname we used for him and “Wart” was a nickname he gave his oldest son, my nephew, only one year Younger than me. He was an inspiration to everyone he met. His life story is motion picture material.
Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2013
JE SUIS CHARLIE — Afterthought
The shock of this most frightening tragedy is practically beyond
the pale of any reasonable or adequate attempt or effort to explain
it or to rationalize the horrible circumstances surrounding it.
Let me just say that all of us who are writers and poets ply our
poetry, “our intellectual wares,” if you will, in a common written
medium that expects the same unrestricted level of freedom of
speech and expression exercised by those extraordinarily brave
artists at “Charlie Hebdo” who were recently murdered in cold
blood by self-styled Islamic extremists in Paris.
It is also equally saddening and deplorable that some courageous
police officers died in the line of duty defending these freedoms
as well as some other security people and hostages caught up in
the midst of these most terrifying circumstances.
The heinous actions perpetrated by these armed extremists
destroyed innocent lives and affected the lives of a number of
loved ones whose burden of sadness and tragedy is unimaginable.
Their actions also were an attempt to strike at the very heart of
those sacred freedoms that all of us who live in open societies and
democracies cherish as part of our everyday lives. The armed
extremists, by their actions, also personified and demonstrated an
obvious affectation for barbarity, stupidity, ignorance, and cowardice
that were all on ample display as a result of what they did.
Freedom of speech and expression are among those certain
historic inalienable rights given to all of us by the divine hand of
God himself, and certainly not by the generosity of any government
or religious group (regardless of faith). The brave souls who died
at Charlie Hebdo, died exercising this most sacred franchise.
The point I’m driving at is this: Those extremists who committed
these most reprehensible actions of recent against their fellow man
did not win in spite of their collective efforts to destroy lives and to
sully these precious freedoms that all of us as writers and artists
hold so very dear.
The outpouring of emotion and sadness in support of these slain
heroes in the face of this most despicable crime is quite compelling,
and underlies the continuing determination of all of us who love
and cherish the freedoms of speech and expression to continue to
speak out and to exercise these sacred rights without reservation.
With all of this in mind, I humbly and proudly conclude my narrative
to all of you here by saying and echoing as loudly as possible:
“Je Suis Charlie” . . . “I am Charlie.”
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 10, 2015)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .
Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.
As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.
My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.
When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.
“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.
Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.
Handle bars were what I like most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And I can drive it so long in full control.
However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.
All Rights Reserved
Date: Aug. 3, 2012
4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12
Poet Sponsor: Poet-Destroyer
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
Charmaine means love
Charmaine means happiness
Charmaine means tenderness
Charmaine means sweetness
Charmaine means softness
Charmaine means joyfulnes
Charmaine means gentleness
Charmaine means angel like
Charmaine means purity
Charmaine means truthfulness
Charmaine means angelic
Charmaine means kindness
Charmaine means sensitive
Charmaine means warmth
Charmaine means passionate
Charmaine means delicate
Charmaine means elegant
Charmaine means graceful
Charmaine means fragile
Charmaine means rare
Charmaine means exquisite
Charmaine means all these things
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
The crucible savant.. by Steven Hudson
(Crucible: A place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence change or development.
Savant: a person of learning…)
Through sleepless, hopeless nights
With liquor on breath and dull head
Alone and cold in lay,
We made our passage to manhood,
Many days in suffer and want
Through tears and hardness of heart,
With sorrow for cellmates
In a prison self-made,
Rather hunger and want
Then submission to those above,
Wild wanderlust thrust us into darkness
Uncertainty of survival, without care,
Knowing no other way,
We strove to understand the deeds done to us in violence,
Shiver, quake, lie awake, as hopelessness covered us like a blanket,
Thieves and murderers as strange bedfellows,
Ladies of the night for use and forgotten,
Laws of the land forsaken,
In desperate want, Never knowing if we’d awaken,
Making our way through this world
Boys living as men,
We threw the line, heaved and toiled
In bright sun and fear,
With hands and feet against the frigid snow,
We lived beyond the breaking,
Many before us have sought their manhood,
While others have had it thrust upon them,
Much has been learned, much has been taught
By the flames and the fire, the crucible savant,
It has been our right of passage
Through bloodstained cloth and scars,
The fathers who came before us, live forever in the Arms,
Painted grey, now I see, the path laid out for me,
By the Infinite Son, whose Glory was won,
Making the savant, a reflection of Thee..
Copyright © Angel fire | Year Posted 2012
He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms
Along the way you became the son he never had
He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t
You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him
You were there from the beginning
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears
Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth
I’m giving you
Despite of all the stress
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.
Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013
My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
it was already dark outside
silence had totally ruined the night
only my lampshade in my room was at my side
trying to comfort me in all my sorrows and trembling fear inside
as soft tick-tocks of the clock were heard
my heartbeat increased its rate
I asked, “Are they reckoning that few time for him has already been left?”
I began to feel, I was already in abyss of despair
the phone had rung for the second time
my mom and aunt once again were at the other end of the line
thunder storms blasted followed by a torrent of rain
when they asked me to talk to my dad to finally say goodbye to him
I tried to talk to him but he could no longer answer me
despite the silence at the other end
I didn’t stop begging him
I cried and cried out so hard
as the darkest moment started creeping through my veins
until my aunt answered the phone in lieu of him
begging me back to let him go, so as to release him from all the pains
to say the word goodbye to my dearest dad
was the hardest thing to do in my whole life
it had totally broken my heart and seemed as if I was losing my mind
so, I kept crying out and begging him to fight
he’s miles away and I couldn’t just reach him out or to be right there on his
I knew he can hear me, so I kept reminding him
about what I’ve promised when I went back home
to spend a short time and took care of him
I’d promised that I’ll fly right back home after my work
to take care of him again and walk him out of the door
together we supposed to walk around our house with his arms on my
my aunt begged me for the last time to finally free him
it was against my will but I decided to do what was best for him
when he was finally gone, I unconsciously screamed
alone in my room miles away from home, I was in deep pain
I felt like I was totally engulfed by the darkest of the night
I rolled my body on bed, crying out loud and hugging my pillows so tight
wishing someone had to put me into trance, so I closed my eyes
while in prayer, I imagined him waving goodbye
as he finally went up there through the brightest light
©2013by Leonora Galinta
Contest: New Poem
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013
A bow launches The arrow
titanium a Strong heart
target of an Infinite memory
inscription: literature Of knowledge
centuries of Infinite melody
ultimatum victory visualization Of triumph
Structure of Divine perfection
Essence to channel The ecstasy
lyricism of a Lovely life
inspiration For love
jewelry to sow in Being temperance
amazing love child Of destiny.
humility of one who knows how To listen
Beauty: Rare a Happy song
expectation for a Better world
horizon Unrivaled joy
reason for True friends.
^ ^-----------------------^ ^
^ T E M P L E A T T I C U S ^
^/\/\/\/\/\/^---------------^ /\/\/\/\/\/ ^
Copyright © Max Diniz Cruzeiro | Year Posted 2015
I was once in your womb
Pain of giving birth was like
One foot in the tomb
The bout that you needed to ease
Because I might be lost
If you don't fight to cease
Thank you for rocking me unceasingly
Thank you for feeding me
In the middle of the night tirelessly
The naval that I see
Is evident that you never gave up on me
I love you so much Mommy
Thank you for your unconditional love
You are my hero Mommy
Sshhh don't tell Daddy Mommy!
I love you too Daddy!
And you are the King and Queen of my heart.
September 30, 2015
Copyright © Meline Ngo | Year Posted 2015
I recall it was just the other day
Featured in the daily for which we pay
Your blown-up photo splashed across
The front page for all to gloss
Your background and your virtues extolled
For your wedding bells were soon to toll
With a king-in-waiting as the groom
You would wilt or you would bloom
For marriage makes or marriage breaks
And happiness, it gives or takes.
Demure and with dimpled smile
With an innocent heart, free of guile
The press was exuberant, so were we
You were the most charming in the royal family.
Welcomed all across the globe
The royal couple widely roved
Ambassadors of all things good
Displaying virtues like royalty would
You touched hearts wherever you went
Concern and compassion were your strength.
You were blessed in due course
With two sons that God had chose
Then differences with the prince surfaced
And you lost face, where you once graced
And while your marriage began to flounder
Your man, the prince continued to blunder
On the treacherous rocks of marital infidelity
You were shattered – your happiness was the casualty.
You decided to go your separate ways
Those were also the wishes of the palace
The trauma of separation was sheer hell
The ways of royalty were beginning to tell.
Now, hordes of newsmen invaded your privacy
In your land and beyond, you became a refugee
The air was also rife with rumours
Of liaisons and friendships and misdemeanours
Your saddest day though, was the divorce
Of you, whose touch was like the kiss of a rose.
And alone, sweet Princess, you forged along
Your grace, in adversity, inspired many a song
Of worthy causes, you were still a crusader
And you remained ever, a loving mother.
It is said, you had found love at last
And the leech like lensmen went wild with thirst
For photos which augment tabloid sales
They chased you in cars and astride motorcycles.
For you, a Parisian tunnel was the end of the road
You didn’t reap in life, what you had sowed
And while your life ebbed within the wreck
The paparazzi zoomed in, to make hay off the break
Your blood-spattered close-ups drove them to frenzy
As you lay helpless, unattended and in agony.
And later in the night, mercifully all was darkness
The world woke to a tragedy caused by sheer madness
Copyright © Sumit Majumdar | Year Posted 2013
I would like to pay tribute to a soup poet very special to my heart. I am not using my “tributick” method (though I’m sure she would appreciate the humor) because I want to say more than a few lines will allow.
In our Poetry Soup family we can become perplexed when a poet stops posting or participating in the soup mix. Often we’ve established relationships that feel as wonderful as those with whom we share “face-time.”
Soupers come and go for many reasons. Reasons are as unique as individuals and those reasons belong to individuals. Like individuals, reasons ought to be respected.
Shortly after I arrived at Poetry Soup, another Poet began posting. She eventually shared her life story via blog. It was a story about a miraculous second chance at life. I eventually became privileged to exchange personal correspondence with her.
Her journey, not mine to tell, was unique and inspiring.
Her gift for poetry, amazing. Her sense of humor, contagious.
We shared travel stories, discussed our common interest in bicycling, and, often collaborated with writings exchanged by email.
My last personal correspondence from her was many months ago. A note from our house to hers last Christmas was not acknowledged.
I have her book, Polished Stones. When it came to me from Amazon, its bold red cover spoke to me of the author — outspoken, at times brassy, and yet, capable of writing mesmerizing words the color of the heart.
Of all her poems, my favorite, (the title of which lingers on my mind), speaks of the way I think of Elizabeth Wesley — The Dancing Girl.
Copyright © John Wulf | Year Posted 2015
She curled her tail around her toes,
Covering whiskers, chin and nose.
An ear twitch here, another there;
She claimed as hers the easy chair.
Tormentor of both mole and mouse,
She spent the summer out of house.
Plundered, pillaged, night and day,
No mercy for dim witted prey.
Summer passed and then the fall,
As bitter cold left wintery pall.
The feline wanted none of that;
Once more she posed as family cat.
She lay about each day and night:
Purred when stroked and feigned delight.
Her bowl, her chair and toilet place,
Were all she claimed as sovereign space.
The season wore on long and cold.
Outside most life seemed put on hold.
The feline lay there still as dead,
Entombed within her winter bed.
Come now the spring with days of fair;
The old cat stretched within her chair.
A well placed nose near open sill;
She felt the much diminished chill.
Then rushed to door that still was closed.
Cries from her pleading throat arose.
Weaving through her mistress legs;
"Let me out," brash feline begged.
As chipmunk fed in hemlock crotch,
Unfettered cat dashed off the porch.
With one quick scramble up the tree;
A winter cat she ceased to be.
Do we not marvel at her grace,
Ere all those months confined in place?
The cat resumes with guileless ease,
Her summer reign of fields and trees.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
The stray cat walks on three legs now.
(I swear he’d walk on two.)
I found out just the other night;
My neighbors call him Lou.
He’s weathered one more winter:
The fourth since I arrived.
The shape he’s always in by spring:
Lord . . how does he survive?
I leave a pan of dry food out
Each and every day.
Protected from the rain or snow,
In case Lou comes this way.
A little dog house waits nearby,
Next to the pan of food.
It’s padded well in wintertime,
In case Lou’s in the mood:
To trust me and to rest awhile,
In a place that’s dry and warm.
To stop his weary traveling round
And nevermore move on.
Except for this I do no more,
For Lou will not come near.
He’s feral now, afraid of me
And this won’t change, I fear.
In speaking with my neighbor though,
It seems there are a few --
Who also care about the likes
Of poor, old Tiger Lou.
His days are spent amongst us
And amongst us they will end.
But none can say, stray Tiger Lou,
Passed by without a friend.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
I feel that I have found a home in this cyberspace
with full of hearts and ideas in a special place
I wonder of all the people in the world to make me smile
with antics that help me grow in every mile
I do want to say to all of the people with respect
because of all of you my mind is not in a wreck
I would lie if I did not get ideas from all of you
without you my poems would not come true
I bless everyone with care
with kindness and without dis-pare
I hold my hands high and put them together
with this I bless you with good weather
I do read some of the poems that people put out
sometimes I feel with out a doubt
I feel the pain in the poems that some has revealed
with hopes that they can read with their mind not sealed
I smile a bunch with every word
it is like a music in my head making a cord
I do want you all to know that you have made my day
to be a better day in every different array
I cherish my time with all the people in my heart
the words flow in my mind is just but a start
I'm happy with everyone in PoetrySoup.com
with hardship that came this cyberspace makes me calm
I cannot choose five cause if I do I don't think it's right
just to tell you that is just my own insight
I thank all for helping me grow with all the poems that are shown
with faith and humor, with views of kindness this site has grown
If I had to say or dedicate my poems to who
would be the first five who reads my poems with a point of view
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
VIETNAM VET SOLDIER'S NIGHTMARE
Another dream –
I could not wake –
Escape from what would follow--
Grasping for a secret word, the letters stark and hollow--
I was trapped entangled there,
Just beyond the reach
Of men that could release me
Or a hill that could be breached
Gunfire was a backdrop
Soft and pungent was its sound
Fell on me like raindrops--strangely harmless on the ground
Smoky gray encased me like a piece of sleeping net
Tunnel faces hidden —easy killing, no regret--
Felt terror and the aching for the friends around me cold
Standup guys with stalwart hearts--just did what they were told
Then my cell phone beeped a beep---
A message had come in ....
Now awake I saw your name---
My new day would begin.
November 25, 2012
waking from a nightmare contest
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
I watched her walk away
And my mind wondered away
Do I or Not
Count the fading heels
Count the healing strides
Count the fast passing past
Finger after finger
I never stopped and I cursed
To voice atop the last floor
How do I or Not
Steal tomorrow from the day
Beam with joy where I don’t enjoy
Look back and see you seeing me
Like children hiding nothing
The fire is gone
The bush is growing on cinder
Will it or Not
Shoot each foil and flower
Summon you who lights the fire
Pretend nothing ever killed
The whole generation of Love
Copyright © peter Onyancha | Year Posted 2013
Paris November 13th Makes Me Weep — Afterthought
The shock and tragedy of this most horrendous event of slaughter, murder, and unmitigated evil are indeed a very sad commentary on the state mankind finds itself in today as the dark specter of terrorism and chaos attempts to engulf our entire world.
We can never forgive and we should never forget the evil that these minions of darkness—in their acts of barbarity, cruelty and cowardice—perpetrated upon the innocent, unsuspecting people in the magnificent city of Paris during the evening of November 13, 2015.
The death and destruction wrought by these armed terrorists, although similar to that which occurred to “Charlie Hebdo” earlier in the year on January 7, 2015, was unfortunately executed on a much larger scope and scale resulting in the deaths of 129 people presently and injuries to over 350. All of this transpired in the later evening hours with a cold and quick military precision among terrifying shouts of “Allahu Akbar” by ISIS-associated terrorists.
All of this was supposed to done by these terrorists in the name of God! Huh? Really? All of this was to satiate a dark thirst and to justify an evil philosophy of murder, rape, pillage, and destruction en masse in the Middle East—and now brought to the evening-hour streets of the great city of Paris in France.
The makes me weep the deepest tears possible for sure, as I am also sure it does Almighty God in Heaven! This horrific event is beyond the pale of any semblance of human decency and dignity, let alone morality! These self-styled Islamic terrorists and extremists filled with hate and anger committed the cold-blooded murder of innocent people to fulfill their warped vision of Islamic sanctity—and in God’s name! This was an abhorrent act of absolute sacrilegious depravity on the part of these terrorists!
These individuals may perpetrate this evil and stain the streets with the blood of innocent people presently, but they shall never be allowed to win in this ultimate struggle. The motto “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité” (or “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”) for France stands at the vanguard of freedom and justice as a timeless symbol and legacy from the Age of Enlightenment that is now inextricably bound as part of the French national heritage. I pay my humble tears and respect for what this historical motto stands for and means today.
The freedom-loving countries of the world and their people must stand together now with France in this hour of maximum danger, and help support its government and people in combating and destroying this dark specter of terrorism that has entered its borders and murdered innocent people without any iota of conscience or remorse whatsoever.
With all of this said, I offer my sincere respect to all of the dead and injured victims who had to endure this nightmare tragedy in Paris on the evening of November 13, 2015. My God protect the eternal souls of those who perished in these coordinated acts of senseless violence, and give solace and peace to their families and loved ones who remain behind.
I know that I shall never forget this evening of terrible violence inflicted upon Paris and its innocent people, just like the violence and death during 9/11 in the United States.
May God Bless the victims’ eternal souls forever, and let us pray that the murderous violence of ISIS and other radical movements analogous to them are one day stamped out from the face of this Earth. Amen!!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 15, 2015 (Narrative)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
Am I The Next One
Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys invited from selected primary schools…
The State Squash Association warmly welcomes each one of you into its fold…
It is more than likely all you parents here today would really like to know…
Does your much loved son or daughter here today has the potential for squash golds…
Ladies and gentlemen, sad to say, I can’t rightly tell for I really don’t know..
Boys and girls, this I know- you yourselves must step forward if you want to show…
Truth is, ladies and gentlemen, true squash champions come along only once in a while…
It is not everyday our association can discover them as easily as flowers in the wild…
Boys and girls, join in our squash training program and be inducted as a Rising Star…
As you train and grow in years, there is much you can learn while reaching for your stars…
All kids, as young as 6 plus, please join in as juniors in this program, you’re big enough…
Dear parents, you may not think so, but your beloved kids, they are strong and tough..
Our squash training program, it is daily run by coaches who are professionals…
Dear parents, watch your juniors blossom into competitive players up to the nationals…
As squash players, they get to make new friends here in this state and there in West Malaysia..
All those who excel in this game, they get the chance to go beyond Malaysia, even Asia..
I am positive everyone here has heard of Datuk Nicol David, a champion second to none..
Yes, you got that right! She is the woman squash champion of the world, 9 times done…
Sad to say, our beloved squash queen Datuk Nicol was discovered some 25 years gone…
As a nation, we are still looking for squash champions good enough to be the next one…
All the young ones here today, I challenge you to ask, “Am I The Next One?”
Young squash players and champions for tomorrow, will you be the next one?
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015
D'ya know a person who's caught my fancy
Host of The Tonight Show fame
Without a doubt, a talented entertainer
The charming Jimmy Fallon by name
Really been a fan since the day he took over
Can sing, can dance and tell jokes
Guests who've appeared on his last night show
Play parts in his skits, never coaxed
A genuine talent in so very many areas
A natural for the late night spot
Charming and funny, just made for the role
As popular as Carson, he's got a shot
Impressions of the famous are really amazing
He totally can blow your mind
A tremendous talent in so very many ways
This man is truly one of a kind
So here's to you, I salute you Jimmy Fallon
You'll be around for many a year
Carson's longevity is about to be challenged
Years from now Jimmy will be here
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
A lot of us have nicknames
Have you heard of “Betty Boop from Beirut”
The sweetest flower in the Middle East
Passionate, loving, and caring
Describes her to a “t”
It is an honour for me to call her my “friend”
I speak of course of Eileen Manassian
Who did you think I was writing about... duh!
Those who know her and I'm sure there are many
Are aware of her warm heart, her loving, caring soul
A true sweetheart of a lady
I am truly blessed to call Betty Boop my friend!
– signed Kenny, with love
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
THEY WERE AN INSPIRATION TO US ALL THEY WERE MIGHTY AND THEY WERE STRONG.
THEY FOUGHT FOR EQUALITY AND FOR JUSTICE THEY PUT GOD FIRST IN EVERYTHING.
THEY STOOD UP FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED IN THEY DIDN'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER.
I SEE THEM AS MIGHTY MEN AND WOMEN WOULD NOT TAKE A BACK SEAT.
ONE MINUTE THEY WERE HERE BREATHING THE AIR OF LIFE THEY NEXT MINUTE THEY ARE TOUCHING THE GROUND ASLEEP IN THEIR COFFINS.
FOR IF THERE WERE NO WASHINGTON THERE WOULD NO LINCOLN, NO TEDDY,NO FDR, NO JFK, NO CLINTON.
IT WAS SUSAN B. ANTHONY WHO PAVED THE WAY FOR WOMEN SUCH AS GERALDINE FERRARO, NANCY PELOSI AND SO MANY OTHERS.
SHE PROVED THAT A WOMAN IS MORE THAN JUST A CHILDBEARER AND A MAID.
IF THERE WAS NO NAT TURNER THERE WOULD BE NO FREDERICK DOUGLASS, NO MARTIN LUTHER KING, NO MALCOLM X THEY WOULD BE NO OBAMA.
THEIR LEAGACY LIVES ON IN THE LEADERS WHO ARE IN THE MAKING INSPIRING US TO BE ALL WE CAN BE AND IF WE FOLLOW OUR DREAMS WE CAN GO ANYWHERE.
Copyright © Quondreika Cheatham | Year Posted 2012
He came from a distant galaxy
On his way to planet Earth,
he stopped over to visit Mars
but didn’t like the atmosphere
No clubs, outdoor concerts or studios
and just a few microscopic life forms,
thus the audiences were rather sparse
They were rather small-minded as well
and did NOT appreciate his music…
He couldn’t stay here very long either
The Polaris Council advised him to leave
(Many other galaxies to visit ya know)
However, I MAY have some good news
There’s an outside chance he may return
When he thinks we are ready…
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015
Today I went to Haworth to the Bronte Museum
It was simply INCREDIBLE
Looking back at the lives of Emily Anne and Charlotte Bronte
The tragic lives of the family
Of their siblings dying so young
An Alcoholic brother
The death of their beloved mother
How their father coped bringing up 6 children in poverty
YET despite all this they became accomplished writers
You may have read the books or seen the TV adaptations
Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights to name but two
Seeing manuscripts, poems and personal effects was so moving
If you ever get the chance to go – do it - you won’t be disappointed
I won’t leave it another 20 years before I visit Yorkshire again!!
5th August 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Righteous Malaysians they are found everywhere...
Here in Malaysia and in countless countries out there...
August 29th 2015 heralds the dawn of a new awakening.....
August 30th 2015 continues this launching of renewed enlightening...
Worldwide, concerned Malaysians they take to the streets dressed in yellow...
People, young and old, proudly they rallied in their T shirt yellow..
Day 1 saw masses of righteous Malaysians stay up through the night...
To awaken afresh for the rally the next day alright...
August 30th is the 2nd day for this monstrous rally...
One that will be immortalized for posterity in local history...
This is the day when righteous Malaysians sounded in alarm....
Of a beloved nation in a distress never yet to be found...
We Malaysians usually read with only passing interest....
When neighboring Asian countries suffer political unrest...
And their people take to the streets to be heard and to protest...
Who ever thought we Malaysians too will one day thread the same path...
Just to be heard, and to push for the government for a change of heart....
From a progressively authorative government in mismanagement...
To a people-centric democratic government expected by all its people...
This monstrous rally of 36 hours was widely touted as Bersih 4.0....
Simultaneously held in all countries that teem with righteous Malaysians...
Bersih 4.0 is a historic event for Malaysians in hundreds of thousands ....
Where true Malaysians showed solidarity for genuine love of the nation...
The monstrous rally was but a mass appeal to awaken an uncaring government...
In the hopes that a cleaner and just government for the people will be eminent....
Now that the dust and drama of that massive rally is settled...
Whither goes the direction of the government for the people of Malaysia?
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015
Tim Smith is an ordinary sounding name
But the Tim Smith I know is anything but ordinary
For a male to express love the way he does
In everything he writes
Is unique and truly a kind hearted soul
Most males usually have difficulty
Expressing their innermost feelings
At the risk of seeming unmanly
Tim has no such difficulty
He is difinitely in the minority in this day and age
And I truly admire him for this
To me, Tim is a real man
Full of confidence and comfortable in his own skin
Tim Smith... I salute you!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
It was as if he had given me a new pair of glasses
Brand new eyes with which to see the world
The world in a different light....
Or perhaps he had given me brand new shoes....
Like walking through old words with brand new feet
His love of beauty in the every day, in every man...
Putting into my mind, pictures of a country road, or a sky of slate
Rural images, ...such simple things...in ways I could relate
Reflected in each verse, each line, that bears his name...
Granted....I won't find such fame
Yet, he gave me the wonder of it all...
So when inspired from the first...
The first time that I read his verse
I felt a need to share and tell....
Finding beauty in the small...
To see the detail....to see the line...
To see a moth's fine wing against the vine...
Beauty in the smallest thing....and make it mine
To let the words inspire me...and take me to a different time
A wintry mile, where pigeons in the snow
Softly as their whirring wing-tips throw
A frost-dust as they wheel and light
Or....could it be as simple as a tree?
When leaves turn scarlet as an ember
An orchard filled with apples ripe for picking
Or people and old times remembered....
With each poem he wrote, ...he gripped me tighter
I want to put my words to paper
The caper of a kitten's whisker....
A thing of beauty in the simple thing
That makes me write and hearts to sing
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
Sarah lived in a simple town.
In a simple family,
in a simple gown.
She spent her life using simple speech.
And simple goals,
and simple dreams.
She married a simple man named Johnny.
Had two kids,
one Sue, one Bonnie.
They all enjoyed their simple lives.
Till a missile flew,
Their home, it dived--
A simple funeral for this simple family.
A casket to share,
In its serenity.
Copyright © dani wil | Year Posted 2013
There are millionaires and then again there are multi millionaires…
How many zeroes to each of their fortunes and how much do they care….
In this nation I read of a multi millionaire that’s one of his kind with his millions..…
I was much intrigued, who is this individual who’s so selfless as to give away millions…
Headlined Millionaire Uses Wealth to help the poor and none for his children….
Reading on, there was much to say about this benevolent individual par excellence..
Coming from a hard life, growing up in a large family with 11 other siblings…
Little wonder the poignant message implied when he admitted things were found wanting..
That is why he likes to help poor people, he said in explaining away his generosities….
The article says he has given away at least 300 scholarships for academic excellence…
Now that he is 82, with his wealth and wisdom well bestowed, he seeks to educate others…
In the timeless principle of teaching to fish as opposed to giving some fish to others….
Incredible as it sounds, his multi millions are generated from merely 200,000 in cash..
When he was well advanced at 72, and after a heart problem in London that had him scared…
He turned to the local stock market and miraculously he was getting the best out of it…
Churning out millions that to this day, he is so flushed in cash that he has to donate it..
In his wisdom, he declares his children, and their children, has no need for any of his millions…
For he had given them the best in education, that is his way to help them find their millions…
Now he astounds this very nation as an individual, when he alone donates 50 millions….
Building university hostels for 2,200 students to facilitate their pursuit for graduation....
It is fascinating for this philanthropic millionaire also blogs about his experiences…
Comparing his wealth of practical experience against the likes of economic gurus and giants….
He has read books on Benjamin Graham, Warren Buffet , Peter Lynch and many others..
And with his 32 years’ experience, he has a wealth of investment tips and the knowledge…
For all like minded investors and readers who choose to follow his writings in his blog…
Doing charity as a form of giving back to society is the ultimate happiness in his book…
This little prose is in recognition of this millionaire's benevolence and his millions...
And a thank you message on the behalf of all those nameless recipients of his millions..
Auld Lang Syne..
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015