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Quatrain Adventure Poems | Quatrain Poems About Adventure

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

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Details | Quatrain | |

Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.


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What's In The Urn

           What’s In The Urn

Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?

Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose

A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison

In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know

With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms 

I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed 
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal 
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later

There must be a plot of ground outside 
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest

Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite  pet
It is surmise, that’s how it met its end
Ended up expired inside the urn
                                                                              
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned 

I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?

Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark                                                                                     
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing 

Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn


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Mackenzie Trail

When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone, They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known. The whispered lines of its refrains resound of yesterday, In ancient tales and bygone trails that man cannot portray. I’ve rode and worked along a trail throughout my many years. I’ve heard the tales the sages tell of raging Longhorn steers, Of soldiers marching single file or mounted days on end, Of Indians, conquistadors and Rangers tracking men. Mackenzie Trail is not well known for time obscures its fame, But high regard is placed on it by those who know its name. Its story’s scribed in black and white, its remnants etched in stone, Its way was marked by sweat and blood, by grave and bleaching bone. The broad frontier that it traversed had yet to be surveyed And danger seemed to lie in wait at every turn and grade. From Fort Clark Springs to forts on north, it led Mackenzie’s men To risk their lives out on the trail, then brought them home again. A mound lies near Mackenzie Lake, where horse thieves met despair, For Rangers tracked their hurried trail and hung them then and there. And near a barn not far away, in Live Oaks’ blissful shade, The remnants of a camp still lie where soldiers often laid. I’ve rode the trail and damned the rock that cost my horse a shoe. I’ve crossed its draws that filled with rain and made my lips turn blue. Its rugged paths have tested me and all who’ve come this way, Yet, it remains my trail through time, my bond with yesterday. Mackenzie Trail will long survive, a monument to will, That I recall when I ride near on evenings, calm and still; When doves exclaim in harmony, their lonely, hollow tone And rouse the medley, old as time, so few have ever known.


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Deep in the Woods

Deep in the woods, a cottage lies,
deep in the core of it,
and gazing out with empty eyes,
twins by a window sit.

Deep in their thoughts, they sit, these two,
above their shack, a shroud
of limbs from trees block any view
of sun, or moon or cloud.

Deep in their hearts, they had to know
they shared a secret sin.
In dark, sweet flowers cannot grow
when jealousy creeps in.

Deep in the night, the cold winds gust.
The leaves from a fresh dirt mound.
The winds, as strong as two maids’ lust,
now move the leaves around.

Deep in the ground, lies one who came
by chance.  He did no wrong
but put twin virgin hearts aflame. . . 
then stay a bit too long.

Deep into sleep, each woman dreams
of the love she yearns for still
and shivers to recall the screams
of the man both had to kill.

for Skat's Dark and Deep (old poems only)Contest 


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In The Dark Ghost Room

I think feel a breeze
A breeze and a touch of horror
Something makes my breath seize
The stings of inner torture

The beast  of  the dark just passes
I hear the pings of its awfulness
Horrible snuffs complementing terrible masses
Something  grip me here – oh fearfulness!

Now what – silence…
The quietness of  the  graveyard 
I sense trouble in disguise
Only that worse turns bad

Oh wait, I can see
Slow approaches of eye balls
The burning eyes of the black beast
Monster, you, coming for me or my pulse

This is it my adventure fiasco
In the ever-dark ghost room
I would rather die like a hero
Behind this locked door with my rheum

As  I’ll  lay my back on this door
Oh beast feast, on me feast
I can hear quacks as I fall
…the door open at least

Massacre! Oh massacre of the beast
Sun ray-the enemy of the dark monster
Came in for its burnt feast 
Because the door opened




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Wet but Wiser

A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
Rex sneaked in with a can of cream soda,
he shook it up hard and then pulled the tab.
But Rex was too slow for their choc'late lab.

Cain: a maniac, the brown dog's head swelled,
confused by the fizz but a rat he had smelled.
He was a god's dog, ergo, a ogre -
mighty fine watchdog, well-trained at Kroger.

Schooled in their stockroom with all kinds of nuts
whose tricks won ribbons for all kinds of mutts.
Cain's radar kicked in, went straight for the can
and turned it on Rex who lost his game plan.

On the way out, he offered some Kleenex.
No one's the wiser, except maybe Rex.
Recording the facts, Cain writes in his log,
Was it a rat I saw? or Am I a dog?


6 palindromes:
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Cain, a maniac
god's dog
ergo, a orgre
radar
Was it a rat I saw


6



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The Pirate's Life for Me

I starts me life as pirate, 
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.

With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.

Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.

Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.

Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.

Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.

One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.

Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight! 
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!

© July 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



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Both Sides for Me

The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.

The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.

Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man, 
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.

There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety 
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical 
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.

At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced

Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.

Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.

Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.

Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks

a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.


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Butterflies and Silver Seas

Jump into pistachio talc
and fly on mists a'sparkle
Dripping off me is butterfly dust
Stand up and you can follow
Dive off the chair you sit in
to streams filled thick with cider
Nap on webs of candied cotton
strung strong by the sugar spider
Open your eyes under water
Catch up with me high in flight
Tether your wings to the sea horse's daughter
as she swims in the moon beams at nights
Sullied clouds fall past the ocean
sleeping on silver tide's arm
Drowsy me now from this butterfly potion
sleeping in ribbons and lavender charm
Imagine the ocean alive
with flutters of wings on the tide
Strip all your preconceived notions
and watch with your eyes open wide
Glisten in green innuendos
Sparkle and shake out your wings
I'm a whisper of water, a glint of delight
taking flight on the brink of impossible things...


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Defend as Men

With armor pierced, I’m battle scarred
For enemies swords had struck their mark
Though weary, I, I raised my sword
To continue fighting in the dark

The battle started hours before
Fighting strong, with me, heroic men
Yet, common men with noble hearts
For mother land, they now defend

No formal training, nor fighting skills
But, armed with will and make shift swords
These men of honor fought for right
For losing homes, they can’t afford

I, their leader, their chosen one
Selected for strength and outward pride
Am honored to fight aside these men
Else, not fighting at all, I shall have died

Our homes and family are what we are
The marks of us men are lineage and land
We go into battle, each as a boy
To come from the battle, each as a man


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The Eerie Emerald Isle

The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker 
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.

They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.

Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.

N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead 
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.

N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!


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ROAD TRIP

Drive across the country
Let imagination flow
Tumbleweed and flat lands
Reveal a western show

Mile markers pave the way
Across this land sublime
Wind blows through the car
On my arm sunshine

Generations of people
Spirits across the land
Occupy a history
Of faces in the sand

Deep inside our spirit
Adheres to our respect
This peaceful land of bounty
No one shall reject

Fresh cut grass lingers
The present rescinding more
Where old shacks and farms
Grasp our inner core 

Land abound with wisdom
Dust has settled down
Enjoy driving the distance
See another town


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Magical Things

I think I’ll live forever
I think I’ll refuse to die
Plant my body in the ground
My spirit’s going to fly

Please come fly away with me
Once this journey is complete
Universe can be our home
Our own magical retreat

Two celestial bodies
Darling lets take to the sky 
Forget the why, when or how
This dream is for you and I

Gliding upon golden wings
We can dance from star to star
I would travel anyplace 
So I could be where you are

Angel’s dance like fireflies
Through trails of glittering dust
In heaven magical things
Exist for people like us

It seems we have come so far
Seems the limit is the sky
When I think of who you are
Tears of joy I need to cry

Everything is what you are
You are everything to me
Long as eternity last
My soul shall be one with thee

So let’s live on forever
We will each refuse to die
Plant our bodies in the ground
As our spirits take to the sky



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Soccer-No greater Sport

I grabbed my shin guard and boot
And head out with my team unto the pitch
The crowd goes wild, old and young, all hooting
The horns of the cars and the vuvuzela’s all tooting
Super Sports, Sky Sports, BBC and ESPN- all reporting 
 
 The game kicks off, Tony in post
Anchored by Fish, Tuga, Razak and Bruce
 Pirlo on the left, Tsidi in the middle, Speelo on the right
Saviola, Siyabonga and Blagodzi will be at the fore-front of the fight
Souls wrestle for supremacy, the crowd still alive and sparkling all night

Go Mighty Panda! Go Mighty Panda!!
The away crowd in purple, black and Green cheers wildly 
Referee whistles for a foul and issues Tuga his second yellow
Two yellow cards means an automatic sending off of Tuga, my fellow
Down by a man yet not giving up, Coach makes a substitution as Noni comes on for Speelo

We’re taking things cool and calm
The opposition getting frustrated after 80 minutes
My teammates attacking and defending with an irresistible power 
As the pendulum of action swings from one tower to the other tower
I took the game into my own hands and blast a ‘gargo’ shot in the eleventh hour


The home crowd goes silent
The 40,000 hooting crowd goes quiet
That thunderbolt from Siyabonga won us the cup
When the game is over the wining team gets a thump up
The losing team goes home to prepare for next season and to get fired up

The Poet Preacher © 2013


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A Perspective on Life

Life is so precious when you’ve got health Good health is much more precious than wealth Be willing to explore what you can Discoveries help to make life grand New opportunities come your way Jump-in quick as they may go away Let the world know you want to join in Put your hand out and make a new friend Live life boldly, learn new things firsthand Take off your shoes and walk in the sand Don’t be timid because something’s new Adventure’s door is open to you There’s new things to learn, around the clock Open the door when you hear a knock You only get this one chance to live Experience what life’s got to give


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The Hunting Trip

Daddy went hunting.
Mamma went too.
Daddy got a deer,
but Mamma got two.

Mamma told her story
while Daddy stood by
looking like at any time
he was gonna cry.

We all thought "He's jealous
he only got one."
But, Daddy had a reason
he didn't shoot his gun.

The buck was at his blind.
He seen him at close range.
The path was clear and all at once
Daddy felt something strange.

He knew that she was waiting
over in her stand.
He had bagged so many deer.
Her fate was in his hands.

He tossed a stick to scare the deer.
He sat and watched it run.
He prayed she wouldn't miss her shot
(OR HER HUNTING DAYS WERE DONE!)

He sat patiently waiting 
for the gunshot near her stand.
When he heard her yell "I GOT ONE!"
he finally unclenched his hands.

The deer was his gift to her
although she never knew,
why Daddy only got one deer
and she got two.


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Moments Matter

Born of moments matter
	To burn for moments sake
Condemned to moments past
	For future moments make


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The Track to Victory

Your life is a long race,
  Racing over the bumps.
Traveling the unforeseen,
  Don’t fear to hit the jumps.

Down the winding path,
  There’s plenty of ups and downs.
Place your focus up ahead,
  For the glorious end you’re bound.

Doing what you love to do,
  Will eventually make history.
See you at the finish line,
  As you race the track to victory.


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If I Had My Way

The sea calls my name; to the call of waves I respond
For seven full days with no one I’ll correspond
My fishing gear packed, I board a cabin cruiser
To escape society, man’s worst abuser

The GPS set, I head fifty miles offshore
To a reef where city lights can’t be seen anymore
The sea would remain calm; hey, this is my story
And the galley’s pantry filled with inventory

Gull screeches and dolphin cackles, the only sounds
In each direction a blue horizon surrounds
Since the break of dawn, the grouper have been biting
Catching my dinner; nothing is more exciting

As the orange sun paints clouds pink before it sets
I commune with God and nature, have no regrets
Through the skylight above the cabin’s comfy bed
Venus, Mars and the Milky Way appear overhead

Reminders that I’m but a speck in God’s grand plan
Merely a traveler whose perceptions expand
A lifetime I’d want, but settle for just one week
To live upon the ocean and adventure seek  
 

* For Carol’s “A Week to Do as You Please” contest


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Crush the giant apart

MY GIANT WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS POEM

It's very intriguing how life's test is
Unpredictable hurdles like a Lecturer's quiz
One giant in life I so tremble and fear
Especially, when the cliff-hanger draws near

Yet, I'll never stop believing in myself
O yes! Never stop believing in yourself
Through thick and thin I'll prevail
There's no way I'll fail

I'll keep moving towards the promised land
I'll keep moving and not stand
I'll attack and crush my giant apart
O yes! There's so much power in my heart

I'll tear him apart, I'll pull him down
I'll scatter him upon the ground
I'll give him my best 'Gargo' shot
And blow him at his blind spot

I'll strike his eyes and wash it with turpentine
I'll cut of his tongue and his intestine
I'll break him down and cut of his head
I'll crush this giant and finish him like bread

I'll play hard from beginning to end, I'll go on
Though the cliff may be tedious and long
I'll go on to achieve my quest
O yes! I'll go out to be the best




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Longing for the ride

Majestic he stands 
Head held high and proud
Until I draw near tack in hand
His mussel to my chest he bows

Our eyes fixed
With deepest affection
Respect from me
From him acceptance 

His nostrils flair 
He inhales my scent
A bond beyond fences
A mutual consent

About horse and rider 
How can I explain
This communion of splendor 
Perpetually sustained

With reverent candor
Can any man compare
Who would be considered grander
Horse or rider if you dare

Nobility without pride
Beauty without vanity
Majesty without disciple
Power without violence 

Do you still wonder why I'm longing for the ride
When he challenges the wind for speed
Brushed by heaven with every stride
Intimacy mounted here on "Spirit's Pride"

My steed and I in harmony
Exhilaration captivates my senses
Pounding hooves, his earthen scent 
Taut muscles ripple in sweat profusely drenched

He heeds the slightest touch of rein
His saddle is my alter of prayer
When he on oceans sands a trot
My soul is healed all disrepair

In bed I lay awake tonight my mind a heavy load
His blaze is blazoned in my memory burned
Of black night mane and chestnut coat
A quatrain tribute to his name he's earned

Still you may not understand
This yearning so many take in stride
Of horse and rider pure joy provider
And oh such longing for the ride
 


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One Stormy Night

A storm torn boat thrashed on the ocean waves
As gales of wind knocked out their lanterns’ glow.
A frantic captain yelled “all hands on deck!”
Then watched as sails tore free; they’d moved too slow.

Brave as a lion, captain steered their course
Though jagged rocks scraped ‘gainst the hull with force.
The seamen battled through the dark of night
Until the seas grew calm at morning’s light.

They stood in silence, those that still remained
And bowed their heads for mates who’d met their fate.
Time and eternity told tales of mighty seas
That claimed the brave, then crushed their ships with ease.



Entry in the contest: On the Ocean Waves
Sponsor: Francine Roberts 
Iambic pentameter; no particular rhyme scheme. Three quatrains.


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A Free Spirit

Back pack hangin' off my bony hips. . .
I'm off to see the world, on foot with thumb. . .
Gotta keep movin'. . . race track groovin',
You know the truth of my travels, (most think I'm a bum.)

Always that search for pie in the sky.
Let me burn my bridges my own way.
I can always dig under and out . . .
It's my f'riggin funeral, and I wanna pay.

Screamin' in the pourin’ rain . . .
Cryin’ the middle of the road . . .
Somebody get this damn monkey off my back!
Can't take no more, too heavy my load.

Funny how growin' older makes you grow up.
Never thought I'd wanna have roots and a wife.
She was small, dark haired and classy, actin' sassy;
I'm whipped man, now she's sharin' my life.

Note* I wrote this about my son who was a free spirit 
in his youth.


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Beautiful Italy

I stood on top the leaning tower of Pisa
And watched as the tourists walked by.
I felt just a little bit closer to heaven
When surrounded by her bells in the sky.

I visited Rome in the springtime,
With its colorful flowers galore.
Seeing Saint Peters sparkle in sunlight,
You couldn't ask for much more.

I have ventured down and around
A narrow cobblestone street,
And marveled at ruins near the edge of the city
Where the old and new come to meet.

While viewing the beautiful fountain of Trevi
And watching as young lovers kissed,
I could feel the cool breezes blowing
As the fountain caressed my face with its mist.

I remember the wonder of Michelangelo's David
And the pigeons that flocked to his arms.
How proudly he stands in the city of Florence
With her glorious art that defines her charms.

Beautiful Italy, where rolling hills of 
Vineyards produce the finest wine,
And its grapes so plump and juicy
Can withstand the test of time.

In Venice, the city of romance,
Where lights in the evening dance on the sea;
Where all of one's cares seem to vanish,
And all of your worries will flee.

Oh beautiful Italy,
Where lover’s dreams come true.
A land of love and romance
Where I fell in love with you.

Italy - for "Somewhere Over the Rainbow Contest" by Debbie Guzzi


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Moon

O moon, to you I turn tonight To you I smile with hidden delight For in you I found my own charm For you did ring up my love alarm A love letter sent to my door Signed in red ink, Moon O my darling lunar Thor I accept to be your SailorMoon O moon, in your rays I bath Your beauty I shall not scath You are my only reason You are my only passion How to reply to your letter Fatuously do I wonder Maybe if I close my eyes My glee shall turn to your skies O moon, love me more Make me the wife of Thor I shall rule each of your molecule As the Queen of all Majuscule!
Date : 8th April 2013


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Fancy Dudes

The work was hard out on the ranch, the days were hot an' dry,
An' fancy things you find in town had caught ol' Jim Bob's eye.
When evenin' came he'd sit the fence an' crave to see the sights,
To drive big cars to all the bars an' toast the city nights.

He had a gal he courted some, her name was Betty Lou.
She'd lived a spell in Angelo, had been to Lubbock, too.
Her face was fine, with freckled cheeks, her hair was done in style;
An' all her clothes had fancy brands that musta cost a pile.

Now, Betty Lou had set her sights to put her brand on Jim,
But he had things he had to do an' marriage weren't for him.
The world was callin'-out his name, he had some things to learn,
Some places that he had to see, 'some candles left to burn'.

Well, came a time, an' like you thought, he wandered off the range,
But ended up in Boston-town; now boys, that was a change.
He found a bar that looked real clean an' sauntered in the door;
He'as proud to be of Texas stock an' sallied to the fore.

A fancy feller slithered-up an' asked Jim to his place,
But when he put his hand on Jim's, he punched him in the face.
I guess that feller didn't know for what ol' Jim was known,
An' bein' green to city life, he'as best just left alone.

Right after Jim had took his shot that dude got mighty riled;
He punched Jim once an' kicked him twice, an' left him right defiled.
Jim left his mark, I guess you'd say, that feller's bloody clothes;
Cause when that feller swung his fist, Jim hit it with his nose!.

He'd never seen them fancy dudes, who act like girls an' such;
From what he knew, which wadn't squat, he didn't like 'em much.
He heard they'as sissies, frail an' weak, sashayin' as they walked.
They gossiped like some women-folk, an' giggled when they talked.

Well, when it all was said an' done, he helped Jim to his feet,
An' dusted off his shirt a mite, then smiled at him real sweet.
He told Jim 'bout a couple things he liked to do with males;
Now, one was such I won't repeat, but one was kickin' tails.

Well, boys I guess there's lessons here: be careful where you roam;
Don't wander off to Boston-town, if Texas is your home;
But if you do, stear clear of bars, an' this I would include;
Don't ever underestimate an' rile a fancy dude.


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OMEN



Along lush woods that slither on hills between Evening of Life recalls a town ,so quaint For joyride cruising new borders, my dream! Though on sharp ridge, pale oak warns of restraint. Held by twisted stems coiled on ruined track Grasses freeze, sad among twigs from the glen More sad than death, or all deaths can exact A calling of Time stirring its bleak omen. In a wham, a daze passes through my head Scenes of auto crash splinter like ripped gown, Thrown in a realm farther than black-wired sky My body sprawled on pools of blood’s seabed. Succumbing to visions erased by clear light Pulse rouses to chimes of Amazing Grace; A gruesome day I won’t relive, despite Promises of thrills that wait to amaze. What I Woudn't Want To Relive Contest Sponsor: Black-Eyed Susan


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Sherlock Holmes and Watson

Sherlock Holmes and Watson made
A duo fighting crime
The wise detective and his friend
The greatest in their time!

It all began with 'Gloria Scott'
When old man Trevor died
Sherlock then, to help his friend
His hobby theories tried

Whether Naval Treaties lost
Or strange Red-headed League
Holmes and trusty Watson solved
Conundrums and intrigue

Whether 'twas the Second Stain
Or swan at Abbey Grange
Those dearest fellows smoked their pipes
On matters grave and strange

If Watson never understood
'Till matters did conclude
It sometimes seems 'twas Holmes's fault
That things were misconstrued

Then there came the felons' dread
The sudden shout, "Halloa!"
And Watson, sometimes young Lestrade
Would run to see below

I think, perhaps, that Watson's mind
Was sharper yet than ours
For putting up with Holmes's quirks
Could be like counting stars


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WATER MATINEE




What drapes these aqua wavelets’ sultry trail Along curled bends, creamy foams lift and rise? Where toes and gulls splash fountains like a sail, Paddling on rock ledges with gargled sighs Dewdrops gloss salty brine through chromed rays To warm the heart dancing with crystal flights, As grains of ivory sand hurl tangy sprays A dream-like scene taken from mermaid rites Dolphins in frolic swivel hips on display Cavorting with sunny air like splashed reel, To play games , a water matinee One, two rides on tides’ Ferris wheel Lapping through buoyed floats with coral refrains This my seashore adorns my wild private roam, Keeping life’s odes, our tunes of summer remains On bed of skin tan, she becomes my home. Summer Contest of Debbie G by nette onclaud


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Empire of the Rising Sun

Leaking sides of a filth I abandoned

Sheathing myself to my fortress garrisoned

Waste snaking through what's left of my good will

On and off I rode away from the wasteland off the distant hill

 

Encountering the ghosts of the past whispers

Devouring my thoughts my head dazed in whimper

A shield broken a sword untamed

Halos smothered and bloody fingers to blame

 

Hurricanes swept the grasslands clean

Storms stripping the seas of rough and lean

Waves hurrying to escape the fury of the dark night sky

To whom it may be, the ones screaming to die

 

Blazing fires putting ashes to the ground

The traces of disaster slaving the uncrowned

Shadows of the graves greeted the living with open arms

The cries of fear echoed the heavens with crimson scars

 

To whom will you run? To whom will you plead?

When the sky burns red and the kings turn to flee

To whom will it matter, whether you live to see another day

To whom will it stain, the end of a million hearts beating astray

 

Hail of ember melts away your eyes and ears

Your fate manifests the monster you've dreaded and feared

Glory will claw the spines of lands filled with the martyrs' blood

No escaping the howls of an outcast howling through the moonless flood

 

The withering final moments, savoring the jolly stride

Rode the sheathing swords that flew the banners of pride

Gliding on skulls of their fallen ones

Swore to retake the Empire of the Rising Sun


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Jungle Travel

I'm boating down the Amazon
I sure am having fun
I'll shoot a bunch of wildlife 
Before this trip is done

But maybe not the way you think
I shoot 'em with a lens
From flitting birds and giant crocs
To kitties in their dens

The other day I met a snake
But didn't say hello
Instead I ran the other way
As fast as I could go

Then after that I got a thrill
While snapping giant crocs
With all the fun, I failed to steer
And nearly hit some rocks

That very night I pitched my tent
And slept the night away
Until some monkeys ripped the flap
And tumbled in to play

My camera pal has been around
It's gone throughout the world
We just can't stop, around the bend 
Are wonders yet unfurled

~November 13th, 2012~


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The Trolls Come Out At Night

Some cat entered my room one night I thought it was a ghost It smelled like something had just died But I must oblige my guest as the host I turned on the light and there it was An obnoxious opossum at best! Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous! Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest! I left the house with a shutter Before I realized I was heavily surrounded By cats on all sides, up and under The house they had all just rounded! In truth I was perturbed on all levels That I began to realize in horror That damn opossum had spawned these little devils! And tonight I must end this terror! I then ran straight to the kitchen Aware of the opossum inside If I give up the tuna and ditch um’ Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive The persistent cats scratched at the holes Those buggers—those meddlers! They could have been thieves—if not trolls! Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers! Worst of all in this dilemma Tomorrow was grocery day There were no more cans of tuna All my fish had swam away! Somehow one got in And the rest came barreling through I ran toward my room to him The opossum looked so distressed and blue The little beady eyes pierced my soul And I knew from then on he was my friend He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls And escape a most pitiful end! I made up my mind at last And picked up my trusty broom Come on in—I dare yah tah pass! Ain’t no feline coming through this room! Glowing eyes burned with intent And the yowling grew loud as hell The little bullies think they can take my guest! They’ll fly like birds they will! That night was a battle like none other A battle I will proudly say I won I gained the friend of my life—a brother My pet’s a load of fun! As much as I love a neighbor cat They are a little scary as a race Thankfully a broom will push them back And put them in their place My opossum is a sweet little thing And I protect him with my life I’ll never judge a critter again Till actions bring it to light


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Lifting Me Up

My heart is on Your shoulders,
And You are lifting me up.
With every spoken tender gesture,
I fall a little farther in love.


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Robin Hood

It was a fine spring morning
the woods seemed expecting
Robin stirred lazily stretching
turned to Marian tightly her holding

Our pantry is nearly bare
I will go out a hunting
he set off as if on a dare
through undergrowth creeping 

Instead of the expected deer
he spied a lady in chains
the sheriffs men did jeer
laughing at her pains

Robin's arrows singing flew
striking down each in turn
softly to his chest her he drew
and soon her trust did earn

Taking her back to base 
he left her in Marian's care
searching without nay trace
he decided to find some fare

Returning soon with a plump deer
they speedily had it merrily roasting
Robin quickly polished of a beer
and all made merry celebrating

written 04/20/2014

Contest Robin Hood


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Yellow Submarine

I took a dive
And saw the fish. 
A star fish too…
I made a wish.

An octopus,
A scuttling crab,
The ocean’s floor
Is never drab.

As mermaids sing
And dolphins play,
I wish this was
My holiday.

A treasure chest,
A sunken ship.
Now time to leave -
But what a trip.

I can’t believe
The things I’ve seen;
I wish I owned
This submarine.

For Heather’s Beatlemania contest


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Yesterday

It wasn’t too long before the writing of "Yesterday" when I was out daydreaming beneath the 
weathered timbers of some squeaky ol’ windmill on our ranch in West Texas. Then fantasy 
and reality shifted. What once was real in my youth became the fantasy. It was as if my 
childhood dreams and fantasies had gained the upper hand and, in some surrealistic, bizarre 
fashion they placed me in a realm of nightmarish realities. Right became wrong… left 
became right… and war became reality.

When youth had hold of yesterday And time seemed slow to pass away, My thoughts were wings on which I’d fly Through fantasies in my mind's eye. The child matured since on the hill, When wind would blow the squeaky mill, When thoughts would soar the vast unknown, And time just marked the years I’d grown. Now, yesterday’s in dream’s embrace, The fantasy or foreign place, From which I’ve left and come alone, And time’s the trail I'm riding on. The trail has led from peace to war, From all the things I’d known before, To places where I have to deal With hidden terror, dark and real. It’s like I’ve left the world and passed To zones where wretched souls are cast, Where peace is just an idle dream That soothes my mind when fear’s extreme. A moment’s peace, that’s free of fear, Is scarce and guarded near and dear, And every day that I survive, I thank the Lord that I’m alive. I’ve grown so numb, so cold and hard, From people dying, dead and charred. From dreams so real, I wake at night In sudden screams and fists clenched tight. The sun is down, the day has passed, And rain is falling cold and fast. As darkness comes to steal the day, I hang my head and sorely pray. I pray I’ll see the light again And all my friends and countrymen, That none of us will have to die And for a place that’s warm and dry. I pray my dreams are kind to me With bygone scenes from memory; Or just the time to spend at rest, Without those dreams, so death-obsessed. A flash of light! The crack of lead! A zinging sound right by my head! I soiled myself in my alarm And dive to save myself from harm. I'm jolted out of heart-felt prayer To search the night for what’s out there, To mourn the loss of yesterday When time seemed slow to pass away. For yesterday’s in dream’s embrace, The fantasy or foreign place, From which I’ve left and come alone And time’s the trail I'm riding on. ©1972 by Jim Fish


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What Works for Me

School bully pushed off with both hands and feet.
With my heart in my throat, I stood up to cheat.
I am a clown with a weapon called pause - 
I chased his focus with raucous applause.

I told him, “Feel free to stay or take flight.”
I could tell this kid was set for a fight.
Being a sprinter, I went with my feet
and took off running in quick retreat.

I am a pacifist, I love what's quiet 
so I dodge the spots where kids often riot. 
I'm also a stoolie and finally stopped
to hide in the office and call the cops.


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Mysterious Rescuer - Dr Who -

The morning was bright and the air felt right
On that beautiful Christmas day,
But a terrible scare for the people there
Was soon to be on its way.

For up in the skies and hidden from eyes
Was a fleet of alien ships,
That had come from space or some other place
On safari or some sort of trip.

Their vessels came down to land on the ground
And were promptly attacked (but unharmed)
The attack was returned, people got burned,
And the humans were further alarmed.

The aliens invaded and easily evaded
The humans' primitive defenses;
Humans all fought this new war that wrought,
But their new foes were terribly relentless.

People died (most got fried)
And hope was all but lost,
‘Til what should appear out of thin air
But a dark blue Police Box.

A man stepped out, (he was thin, not stout)
He was cocky and cheerful, too;
He had made up a plan to rescue Man
From the mess they had gotten into.

He took his box for a ride (it was bigger inside)
And fooled the aliens with some tricks;
He watched them go, and he put on a show
If only for laughs and kicks.

He landed his craft as the humans laughed;
They asked who he was and what he knew.
He said "Doctor," here, and then disappeared.
The people said, "Doctor Who?"


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Space

In a little state of shock 
so many things left to pack;
She tries not to watch the clock
or gaze up at the stars tracks;

Overcome with emotion,
what an opportunity!
She made the right decision 
to be a piece of history; 

It's the beginning, this trip
rebuilding the human race;
Just a one way rocket ship, 
this chance to colonize Space


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Sugarland Forest

Sugarland where fairies dwell Gingerbread men protect it well Giant mushrooms keep off the rain Redwood trees the fairy domain Buried deep from human eyes A city made where fairies fly Protecting the forest from evil foes This, their job only few can know For at the bridge you cannot pass All-powerful Trolls still stand fast Firefly lanterns will forever last Mystical daydreams here are cast Sunbeams float on a peppermint mist Sugar land’s quiet as a morning kiss Fairies fly deep into hidden homes Trolls give the day to the gnomes. Firefly lanterns snuff out their flames Elf’s and Imp’s come out for games Wizards rule and harbor the day Fairies rule the forest so they say Close your eyes and dream with me Lollipops, candy canes, Can you see Dusk falls,fairies scurry,Trolls in sight Firefly lanterns light up the night Always watching over you with grace Keeping all safe in this magical place Fairies sprinkle sleepy dust in your eyes Sleep little one,in your dreams fairies fly. Copyright ©2005 Carole Cookie Arnold


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Nostradamus' Protegé

The Bride to be, first upon the red planet
To lead a force of three among rocky pits
Cloaked in brilliant white, face of golden glass
Upon the face of the god of war she now sits.


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For I Had Lied

Dada was everything to our youth
Our wide faculty was his help
Our recognition was his sooth
Nobody does it than his rep

Many youth he carried up there
Without seeking any penny
Many services he rendered
For free. All of which we did see 

He was not a king or a prince
Perhaps he was just a God sent
To his community, king and prince...
He begot not but was begot

Mindful of his predicament
But dare not showed it on earth
Till that Friday night he drove out
Of town and took to a scar oath

The next hour we heard he had died
And left us belated letter
"Don't cry for me, for I had lied.
...I'll die now before later"


*cry for...: Mourn

28/05/2013


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Enjoy This Place

Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!


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Choices To Face

I have some choices to face,
But these are not my decisions to make.
God told me what He wants me to do;
He said, "Listen, Son, I have a plan for you."


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Hang Glider

The Hang Glider

At Bald Hill’s escarpment on Stanwell Tops,
a cliff edge rises to a patch of green.
As yellow pink light, the night darkness swaps,
a group of valiant hang gliders convene.

Against the rocks beneath, the big waves smash.
In silence he prepares his kite to fly,
eliminates all thoughts about a crash,
as he envisions gliding through the sky.

For the dynamic lift patiently waits,
then soars off, like a gull on breezy days.
Over thermal winds he floats with his mates,
like a yellow tail kite into sun’s rays.

Towards the sands of the lagoon he swoops,
then on white clouds he leaves receding ground,
whilst skywards he glides, dances, dives and loops,
then the kite he nose dives and circles round.

Towards the loved one waiting on the beach,
with golden hair and light blue eyes so bright,
beaming a sunny smile, pretty as a peach,
akin to the excitement of each flight.

Written by:  Ronald Zammit
Dated: 08.02.14	


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My Viva's on Visa

A pyramid tour
On my bucket list
Approach by camels
Cross an oasis

Play mahjong with sheiks
In hot desert tents
Where harem girls dance
Through wafting incense

Explore monuments
With ancient secrets
Engraved sarcophagi
Sanskrit alphabet

The airfare alone
Would make some withdraw
Camel rental's high
The pricetag's the flaw

To cross the ocean
For vacation viva
Need huge chunk of change
From Uncle Visa


* For Linda-Marie's Viva Vacation challenge


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Moonstruck Mystere

Battling the waves
of an ocean that sways
to and fro in ever search
of a place of mirth.

And those who dare
face her moonstruck mystere
Will know the price
it takes to reach paradise.

Their spirit will be aglow
By the life they've come to know
They no longer fear death
for they breathe the heavens' breath.

Life is like an ocean
in constant motion
As we brave her character
We will inherit the earth.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 06.24.11


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There's Nothing New

There's nothing new for children.
The adults have done it all.
And now they've left for planet Mars
when all you do is crawl.

They raised you with their Google
and taught you of their hive.
They put you on their Facebook
and told you you were live.

They'll send for you at end of days
when you look to the skies.
That's why they left you Google Earth
and praying no one dies.

You'll call them on your iphone
when seas begin to rise.
You'll have to wait for voicemail
to leave your little cries.

You'll want to build a rocketship
to follow them to Mars.
And hope there's one recyclable
from thier abandoned cars.

Then when you've reached your newest home.
Their androids there to greet you.
They'll welcome home their little ones
and then you'll have to start new.


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Dining in the Everglades

Kind-hearted, loving and compassionate
Dane Ann would jump through hoops to please a friend
But by a treacherous quest she’s beset
In Everglades’ swamps she wants to descend

She seems to think she can take photographs
Of huge alligators and crocodiles
And though Dane Ann has many well-honed crafts
When I speak of the danger, she just smiles

On shore gators run 50 miles per hour
So two mature ladies won’t pose a threat
Their teeth so sharp, personalities dour 
One look at us their appetites would whet

Dear friend, I’ll take you where you want to go
Because I care very much – je t’adore
You want close-up shots; the fear in me grows
As gators draw near, will you shut the car door?



*Je t’adore is French for “I love you.”
Dedicated to Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen who thinks she can outrun the gators :)


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Wish Upon A Star

We could fuss and we could fight;
Yet I'd want you in my arms tonight.
You were, under a June night sky;
And it was then I did wish you were mine.


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All Natural

<                                   earth ~ third planet from sun
                                     liquid and iron ~ cores
                                     continents  ~  islands  ~  pun
                                     arctic  icing  ~  drips pores

                              
                                    wind  ~  natures own fury
                                    flow gasses ~ bulk movements
                                    storm ~ hurricane ~ jury
                                    place in pocketbook ~ dent


                                    fire ~ oxidation
                                    combustion ~ releasing 
                                    heat ~ light ~ good ~ tar nations
                                    pollution ~ choking ~  thing


                                    water ~ called H2O
                                    oxygen ~ hydrogen
                                    evaporation ~ goes
                                    will exceed supply ~ when ?

      
                                   earth ~ wind ~ fire ~ water
                                   Nature's elements   ~ sure 



Entry For
Barbara Gorelick's
The Four Elements Contest
G.L. All
    
                                    
                           


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Fishing at Dusk


I cast out my line, not caring if I catch anything or not The sun is setting and the river sings its sweet song Fish ducks fly low over the water, saluting the dusk This is my place, the place I know I belong... A steelhead jumps at the head of the riffle Teasing me as he rises to grab the fly I acknowledge his place in life's scheme To him life's worries surely do not apply... A tug on my line brings me back again I set the hook and my heart skips a beat He jumps one or twice and spits the fly No matter, this lovely day is complete..


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I just found out the truth

I just found out, that once the road ends Love will not wish to dance There, where the road ends The day stops hence! A road as curly as life With twists hidden in its carafe In which the coffee becomes faith And the aroma gives strength I just found out, that there may be a vision Yet, it is mere illusion Meant to brume our reason Coming throughout whatever be the season! I just found out, that once the road ends I shall have to rely on my own hands Pray, show me the way, oh long road Show me the way through the miracle of a word!


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Robin Hood

 
 In Sherwood forest where big oaks grow
There lives  a band of outlaws
They roam the forest with their  long bows
With arrows ready to draw

 In an attempt to put the rebels in a jam
  A lawman comes  up with a plan
He is the sheriff of Nottingham
And he has kidnapped maid Marian

This news quickly spread to Robin Hood
The leader of this outlaw band
 He fights for justice and for good
Her freedom he demands

But the sheriff refuses to let her go
 Until Robin Hood gives up
 But Robin replies with a resounding no
 Cause he drinks from victory's cup

Then Robin's men surround the place
Where Maid Marian is being held
The sheriff and his lawmen brace
for battle, but they will soon be felled

Then arrows fly as lawmen fall
And maid Marian is soon rescued
And Robin Hood now stands tall
The hero from the forest of Sherwood

 


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M V Fun

She divorced the sea and marries the sun;
She will soon come to the tryst,
Where she dispenses pleasure
To the tourists and local fun seekers.



User's   : Kayod5.
Contest : Impress me with a small poem.
Motif     : Epic
Sponsor : Giorgio V.


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the shell

my out of body experience
has'nt happened yet
i'm still waiting for the moment
when my soul will leave this flesh

i don't want it in an operating room
where for a space my heart will stop beatin
i just want to go to a place 
where life stops repeaten

i don't need an experience
of my soul goin to hell
Jesus is my savior
and i know this very well

but if God should need a prophet
someone His truth to tell
then take my soul to that place
and return it to it's shell


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The Reality of A Dream

The Reality of A Dream.

The poison crown that bound my head,
did bring a sober theme,
'all the less, is of loving said,
a dream is left a dream'.

So in my strength, I broke the ring,
with all the fair alarms,
as crownless was a lovers king,
a king to loving arms.

I feared now not, the roaring hall,
equivalent to decay,
but all the wealth to me was pall,
the poison and delay.

Days on which we as winters wept,
Do rest those silver trees,
the suns that had us burning kept,
now dance the summers breeze.

I ran across to foreign lands,
to then my love pursue;
how homes are there in wishing sands
I wish! --I always knew.

There is no more a different state,
--two lives with joy ascend;
does hurt us not, a vermin's hate,
when love its self defends.

See yet the moon --in golden heels,
when I am calm and wise,
now cheerish I how dreaming feels;
a dream --with open eyes.


R.N.Khan, © 2011


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When People Fall

          When People Fall

When people fall from buildings it’s alright
They die for a reason
Like love, hate or architectural anomalies
Still, they have to pay a fine because suicides illegal

When people fall from planes it’s hard
To find your footing
At 30,000 feet you’re sure to meet your maker
When jet comes apart and no brakes to apply 

When people fall from cliffs it’s difficult
To hear them going down from a distance
From a slip or mishap
Perhaps an equipment design or human flaw 

When people fall from grace it’s crazy
They say free fall is fun…at first
It happens over time and makes you lazy
When you land you’ll find it hurts

When people fall short it’s cute
You’re parachute won’t open
I guess that’s because you’re on the ground 
This revelation should keep you safe and sound


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When Doves Fly

A sporting event occurs every year Participants find it a sensation Hunting white wing doves along the “fly-by” When they’re making their southern migration The most favored hunting location is Along the Texas/ Mexico border Everyone brings lots of shells to this hunt If you can, two shotguns are in order These birds will normally fly-by in waves Their flight is very fast and erratic You must be alert and always prepared Reactions must be quick and automatic The shooting will be fast and furious And your shotgun barrel will over-heat If you planned ahead, grab that other gun And keep-on shooting to bring home the meat Excitement builds the day before the hunt My dreams that night, I’ll see them in the sky Keep thinking of the hunt, it hard to sleep I’ll be ready tomorrow, “WHEN DOVES FLY”


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Crossing the Creek





I crossed the rowdy stream
Jumping from stone to stone
A small outdoor adventure
Can I make it across alone?

Water rushing round my feet
My arms flailing to and fro
Finally safe on the other side
Dang! Now back I have to go....


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A Sobering Moment

A most ordinary, a tad-bit hazy day,
Fishing from the pier, a black cat came my way.
A mere kitten she was, "was she wearing a hat?"
a man's blue top hat? a black, blue-eyed girl cat?

She sauntered on down and I could tell, this is odd.
I called out, "Here, kitty!" as I reeled in my rod.
I offered her a fish I was gonna throw back
"I don't eat fish!" she scowled, giving my catch a whack.

"Just, who you calling, Kitty?" she sneered in exhale,
"Watch this!" she attacked me, put her hat on the rail.
She took off in a huff, forgetting her prize
trotting into the sand as I blinked my eyes.

I went back to fishing but I watched that chapeau.
It changed colors three times, taking on a red glow
and floated on the ocean waves out of eye's reach
as I heard my wife calling from down the beach.

I gathered my gear, got up, somewhat less canned. 
My wife claimed the red hat as it reached the land
jawing on about some ladies society,
or was she yakking about sobriety?


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If I Could Wave a Magic Wand and Make a Fantasy Week-

If I could wave a magic wand and make a fantasy week,
I would rent some cabins in the wilderness near a tourist town.
And fill each one with my family’s love…butterfly kissing cheeks. 
With all my children and grandchildren happily gathered around. 

Camp food aromas would fill fresh air, tantalizing and good.
We would joyfully sing campfire songs amid giggles and sparks.
Talk about the “growing-up” days while warmed by firewood. 
Each child snuggled under someone’s arm as happy as larks.

When darkness came, the moon would shine upon a distant owl.
Whip-or-wills would sing their tune; each child’s heart would thrill.
We would say prayers as a family thanking God for waterfowl.
Together on our beautiful earth, enjoying the quiet still.

In cabins nestled under the stars, amid the black of night, 
Beneath scented cedars and pines, we would dream our souls to sleep.
Anticipating sounds of dawn and beautiful mountain sights,
I would lie awake and soak it in, remembering sweetness to keep. 

Awakened by the sounds of dawn and crisp mountain air,
I would take my camera for a walk, photographing with flare.
In every bit of nature, I would recognize God’s care.  
Thanking Him for sharing sights of deer, antelope, and bear.

When the week was almost gone, we would take a family ride.
And go to the nearby tourist town to shop and look around.
I would buy each some western clothes, feeling good inside.
And tell them I am proud that family love flows unbound.

On that last day, while packing up, we would hear waterfalls cascade.
All together, my children would work, singing a wilderness song.
As I, watching grandchildren, would thank them for good memories made.
Then, upon returned to each his home we could carry this dream along.

© October 4, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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My, How Buttons Have Changed

In the fifties, my sister and I would play store;
selling ice cream and candy just like our grandpaw.
Granny let us delve into her spare button box
where we found the coins for our special cash drawer.

We sorted them all out by size and by color
marking some as quarters, nickels, pennies or dimes.
Imagination was the best of our playmates;
we even had half-dollars, the rarest of finds.

Last year we two met to go shopping just for fun;
can you guess what awaited me and my sister?
Brand-new buttons made of honest-to-God live coins.
We found all the reg’lar ones, but no half-dollar.

We giggled as we shopped, pretending like old times. 
Strangest thing we discovered along with this find -
the penny buttons? no cheaper than the quarters. 
The cost of the buttons did not match with their kind!



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Blueberry Hill

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada


Where's Blueberry Hill?
Is it north; is it west?
All the people are talking
and they say it's the best.

Little fingers are picking.
All the children bent down
filling baskets with berries
on the far side of town.

So; where are these berries
I see marked on the map.
In this place called a district
of the Minnow Lake gap.


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Life Is An Adventure

First you learn to crawl around Then give a step a chance Bit by bit you learn to talk And not to wet your pants When it’s time to go to school Get on the bus and go It’s scary to be on your own With kids that you don’t know Then you enter puberty And share that first time kiss A few bouts of puppy love Then a love you can’t resist Wedding bells, a honeymoon A family would be swell Diapers, bibs, a rocking chair Night time stories you will tell Start planning for retirement You’ve got grandkids all around Wrinkles come from nowhere You know you’re slowing down Now you reached the golden years It’s time to just have fun Take a nap, do what you want Your race on earth is done


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A COWBOY IS

The wild west created many cowboys with the will to win;
some were robbers and didn't care whom they hurt,
others true gentlemen who courted beautiful women
and fought for justice's sake making everyone shout.


Buffalo Bill must have been the most famous of all,
he delt with the Native Indians and was admired as well;
his horse was swift and his tracker's mind was always alert,
many trails he left behind and those stories evolved into legend.


Hollywood created its own cowboys: John Wayne and Clint Eastwood,
both were known for their sarcasm and good looks, but faithful they remained
to their steed with those images of fearless cowboys, but they couldn't be compared
to the Lonely Ranger for speed and shrewdness everywhere his keen eyes turned.


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Robin Hood

Robin Hood woke beneath a tree,
his face covered in a smile;
So much of the forest to see,
despite his life of exile;

The Sun shines on this outlaw
showing the hooligan's bright side;
the new taxes the last straw;
He's after Nottingham's hide

The sheriff nothing but a hassle;
Robin must teach him to give!
Hoarding their money in the castle, 
The working class can barely live;

Off to cause a little mayhem
Take it all in a little raid;
Nothing left to do but stop him
Kharma's debt will be paid.


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Mississippi River

Her strong and mighty currents flow
From Ohio Valley
South to the Gulf of Mexico
Alligator Alley


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Wally And The Angels


...inspired by a Dylan Thomas short story


A breezy day, and two boys biking down the lane 
past meadows green with envy, soft as spring. 
Picnic-packed and ready for the day's adventure. 
They passed hikers who cried "Hey, lend us yer bikes!"  
The lads whizzed by, not giving them a second thought.

"I bet them's fire cows," Jimmy said, (he had a wild 
imagination.) "Nah, them's Holsteins, don't be daft!" 
said John. The air was full of magic, and the sky
alive with seagulls. The ocean glinted to their right,
sparkling like the twinkle in a young girl's eye.

They hurried to their destination, breathless with
anticipation, hurtling to a Neverland they'd mostly
seen in pictures, a rocky outcrop, pounded by
the waves, a fearsome confrontation with the sea,
a playground where imaginations flourish.

“I bet there's dragons in them caves,” said Jimmy,
"and trolls and such, with fangs and fiery breath!"
“You're crazy!” countered John, (he read the Bible),
“'sides there's Jesus, He will shelter you from death
for now, make sure you're well and in good health." 

Skittering on slabs as slick as ice fields, 
tottering like lambs who've found their legs;
they played until the frigid water beckoned,
then splashed and frolicked, ducking from the heat.
Opening their back packs now, they settled down to eat.

It was then, the first time they'd discussed it,
Wally, Jimmy's brother, gone to God;
dead from cancer barely two weeks prior,
disconnected, laid beneath the sod.
Their tones were sullen, conversation somber.

“Is Wally with the Angels?” Jimmy questioned.
“Yes he is,” said John, “and safe at rest.”
They cycled home in silence, friends forever,
and settled in their beds, forever blessed,
the moon endowed their dreams, a welcome guest.



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The Garden of Love 2K12

Thro' enchantment's copses, a transportation; Countless vacation an ancient garden. Love's eden; A rapturous teleportation Wherethrough blooms roses adored therein such garden.


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There is Another Skywalker

“There is…another…Skywalker”
Though she’s not a Jedi Knight
The force is strong in her
She fights darkness with the light

A woman unafraid of danger
Princess Leia is her name
The kingdom is at stake
She’s out to win this game

She has wit, charm and beauty
A treat for Jabba the Hut
She kills that slimy sick beast
Will not sink down into smut

She wins the heart of Solo
Handsome rebel on the run
He brings to life her feelings
For his smile rivals the sun

She fears her evil father
But her brother knows how to save
For he is a Jedi knight
The force in him makes him brave

Star Wars is NOT a movie
That you view on some grand screen
It is not merely fiction
Thought up in someone’s daydream

There IS a mighty battle
That is fought out every day
The good tries to win the fight
The bad tries to have full sway

The “FORCE” is ever present
To give strength to overcome
Sure victory is in sight
Won by the only true SON

We all can be Skywalkers
Every day we can decide
To join forces with the good
And to shun the evil side

So, be brave and strong of heart 
The saber is yours today 
Go in with a rebel yell
FIGHT in the galactic play!

For Star Wars Contest
By Poet Destroyer
August 20, 2013


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A Sailor's Tale

I sail across the open sea,
Moonlight kissing my skin,
The rushing waves inviting me,
My voyage finally begins

The air is cool upon my face,
The night is dark as coal,
My sails are flowing at a fast pace,
Sounds of the ocean comfort my soul

Upon the water lays the moon's silhouette, 
A beautiful sight before my eyes,
This memory tonight, I shall never forget,
Sail the night until the sun shall arise

Crashing of waves to and fro,
Silence and solitude I embrace, 
The heart of the ocean I long to know,
Finding myself in this magical place

Wishing upon the nearest star,
Dreaming my dreams on this cool night,
The song of the ocean I hear from afar,
Sailing in darkness until day's coming light


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Totem Pole

When I aim to please wholeheartedly,
The political scene still knows me.
It never tries to ignore me,
And never desires to fight for me.





©2014 Honestly JT


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AN AUSSIE OUTBACK VACATION

Things been gittin' a mite boring 'ere,
So called on my old mate;
Said let's git out of town awhile,
He said,"That sounds great."

Said "Put together a bit 'o' grub,
A bed roll, tack and such,
And we'll go walk-about, we two,
Don't think that we'll need much,

'Cuz we'll be livin' off the land,
The way we're meant to be.
We'll hunt and fish and just relax,
Just you and God and me.

We won't be in no hurry,
To return in no time soon.
We'll be back when good and ready.
We won't be countin' moons."

So off we set, me mate and me,
On horseback through the bush.
Been ridin' that old rockin chair,
And find I've a tender tush;

But that's okay, it'll be just fine,
I love this clean, sweet air.
Think we may be out  'ere awhile,
So long as fishin's fair.




For Tracie - Indigio Dreamweaver's A Lil Bit Of Aus Contest


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A Simple Solution


Out walking in the woods one day I found a creek that begged me to cross Just a bit too wide to attempt a jump And the only rock was covered with moss I walked up and down the bank a bit Couldn't find a log to bear my weight After a bit of thought, took off my shoes And sure enough, my feet worked great.... For the Dilemma contest...


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Adam's Side Kick

I’ve been a pain in your side “Why let me see…”
“You’re made from God but you say I’m made from thee?”
You talk to the animals and to the sky?
As the moon lights the night you talk to my…thigh?

You want to run bare arse all through the woods
We’ll if you keep doing that you won’t have ANY “goods?”
So, you don’t like the fig leaf. It’s a bad choice?
“Well, use your words! Speak up! You got a voice.”

“You work? So you say. Just what do you do?”
All we eat are the fruits and some vegetable stew.
I cry at the sunrise. I’m not used to these eyes.
And I still can remember being inside God’s sigh.

I cry cause the wind blows dust at moon rise
I’m frightened and wonder what’s the next …SURPRISE!
Neighbors? What neighbors? Toss the leave use a peel
what care I for the wonder of what you’ll reveal.

Eden was wonderful, and ignorance bliss
yet so is the delight of a your so human kiss.
I love you, I’ll stay no mater the plight
and raise up our children and handle the fright.

*dedicated to Larry Belt's Adam / A Pain in my Side


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Found A Thrill 2K11

'Twas Dreamland - therein Wonderland were I, What a buzz! Wake didn't become that buzz kill, No disturbances of dormant mind nor eye, No intervener's - as I've found a thrill.


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THE BOY'S PASSION FOR MUSIC

He lived when Elvis, the Beatles, Johnny Cash and the Rolling Stones
had strings of hits and he passionately hummed those up-beat songs...
dreaming of becoming as successful and famous as they were;
and following his dream, he turned into a big country singer!


Everywhere he went, he carried a heavy transistor radio
and listened to them and learned those country and rock lyrics...
and the longer he sung them, the more he fed his ego,
so he wrote words without music, hoping to create melodies!.



Sitting at the piano as Beethoven did, he frantically played those keys,
blending them with easiest chords; and if they sounded awkward to him,
he would certainly use another chord that was simpler and more harmonic...
so the boy's passion for music grew as he planned to hit many unknown roads!


Up North, people called country stars:  hillbillies with nasal, funny voices
and such names like rednecks caught on; one would be surprised by their remarks,
or at how they unfairly they were discriminated...and they were all proud Americans!
But the boy's passion for music took him to unimaginable heights and riches!


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Safe

It's like a weight lifted off of my heart;
I am no longer torn apart.
Thank God you are safe;
Everything is okay.


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Taking The Plunge

Eyes locked not able to pull apart Fingers trembling matching the beating of my heart. Removing clothes one by one feeling quite shy Never thinking I would feel this high There is no control and no going back I am in to deep and sense I do lack. The power that pulls together is so so strong Something this exciting cannot be so wrong. Tongue moistens and flicks around lips Muscles twitch and tremble down to the hips Breath holding this is like a test and I can do it Feeling dizzy, eyes blurring, I need to sit. Knees trembling can I take the leap? I’ll never forgive myself, I know I won’t sleep Muscles are taut, my skin catching the light This is it; it’s going to be tonight. Looking round at the space and taking a deep breath in I am falling I know my head is tucked in My arms are stretched out to break the surface As from the 3 meter board I dived with a purpose. My fingers break the water followed by my arms shoulders and head I have done I survived this thing that I dread. I did it I took that knee trembling walk I plucked up the courage my task I did not balk.
© ~GG~ 28/08/2012


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Remember

The causing on one to give a damn
desires that toil and can twist
Remember the meanings of the lamb
yet they shall forever persist


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Alphabets Voyage

            Alphabets Voyage 

Just last week the alphabets walked off into the sky
Taking Saudi Arabia and China’s colloquial scripts along 
With pages, other fibrous substances in disguise, into the ages
Hiding white as ghosts on vast tracts of time 

Behind trees that once made them into paper
To tie the world together in education 
Alphabets climb through the stars to changes
Into the very core of white

Moving past Madagascar up and out past all the planets
Dropping a simple note behind, no one there to read it
It read, “Be back soon” but even those small words would leave   
Later, packing letters, each one placed inside a bag to go

Like spies, down to the very pulp of life, fictional or not
All journeyed, sojourned onward, lined like soldiers in a box 
Only white stayed pure as virgin armies on clean linens lines
Laid down on a slice of air there between the pages

Blank papers, blank books, blank looks, remained
Everything seemed fine up to the point
When pencil tips broke from wood and lead
Pens went dry, evaporated, fell down a well

The Press halted in mid air
Everything seemed right
Paper stayed white and mute as usual
Reading between the lines came easy as words took off

Thoughts lined up for moving to a brand new future
Executing freedoms one by one upon the hand of nature
Never to tell a story twice until it’s written on the stars
The soul was taken out of alphabets so they took off

Their voyage started here, a tiny world
Given proper paper context 
They could be anywhere by now
Walking on the sky or over atmospheres

Alphabets leave paper trails of white
For other worlds and cultures to absorb
Or something else we haven’t thought of 
But that’s alright


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She Let Me Slide In

As I gaze upon your curves
The devil in me smiles
Enjoying something like you
It has been quite awhile

I swear that I am so hot
Dripping wet with sweat
Thinking of your beauty
All slippery and wet

I swore this is something
That I would never do
Lost in the excitement
Of enjoying you

I guess sometimes in life
The temptation is too great
Sometimes it is impossible
We are all bound to fate

As I climb on top of you 
Eyes dancing with delight
I plan to ride on you
All throughout the night

As I start sliding down
I can’t help but say
All the way to the bottom
That’s where I will play

All the way to the bottom
Then back up to the top
Once you ride a water slide
You never want to stop



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Hero

Given in solemn promise
An Oath to always Defend
Those things held most precious
God.. Country.. and friends

The creak of well oiled armor
the heft of a sword well worn
the gift of the ability to protect
the weight of duty borne

With a promise to walk with honor
a young knight rises to the task
given by traitorous advisors 
to guard a lonesome pass

Sly, sneaky and underhanded
traitors plot a monarchs demise
soulless assassins cut through the night
brought short by stern unflinching eyes

He drew his sword and made ready
to withstand the charge of fate
knowing it would be the one against the many
knowing aid would come to late

Resolute against their wickedness
his stature seemed to grow
and as blades flash all around him
he felt the world begin to slow

He stood firm and steady
as blades sought to pierce his back
and knew what must be accomplished
despite all that he might lack

And though assassins fell around him
their blades in turn drank deep
his destiny plain before him
to join them soon in sleep

He stands alone in silence now
honored to have done his best
a final thought passes through his mind
to give him eternal rest

A hero is not a man
invincible to all beneath the sun
a hero simply refuses to die
until the job is done


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A Bad Day on the High Seas



Ye dirty son of a sea dog
Ye rotten pile o' bones
Ye'll see the end o' me cutlass
I'll intrrroduce ye to Davey Jones

Ye'll not be getn me treasure
For Ive the map ye see
Ill set ye adrift in a leaky skiff
And food for fish ye'll be

Me chest be filled wi diamonds
And rubies, pearls and such
But ye'll be treadn water
Me treasure ye wont touch


My ode to pirates everywhere..


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Sunshine River

Hands held together 
brightness shines reflecting on their smiles 
Their eyes seeing more than appearance 
The love they witness last for many miles 

Many walks along that river 
Daytime and night hands held together 
Lips always in sync as with the breaths they take 
This is the chance they risk to be together 

Knowing that time can be an enemy for couples
The only time they seek is the time spent not alone 
Taking each chance to be loved 
And opening their hearts and soul bare beneath the bone 

Seasons change and still they walk the path 
Leaves on the trees to the trees holding nothing 
The winds wrapping them together 
To the lovers holding on to something 


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Few Days Of Love

Few Days Of Love.
 
 
If two days are what a soul receives,
are those days for loving adequate,
when a blissful spring, the garden leaves--
is the right response to blame the fate.
 
When two days are all a soul does need
such a trek cant deem a lover then,
might all us consume our bodies greed
and give this world more lonely men.
 
For two days are what a soul had found,
should the love regret this painful grant,
to a lucid dream the trueness bound
while in craving that which have you cant.
 
Why two days are what my soul did bring!
and did bring with them, the perfect love,
I have embraced it like a gifted wind
and embraced would die, in fleeting of.
 
But, two days are what my soul did get,
so I love my dame to the full extent,
for no realm can such a clock beget,
at a quit which wont our love lament.
 
So two days are what my soul did gain
and did the error of loving commit,
you can lock me up, and write me pain,
but never two loving souls can split.
 
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012


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The Next Best Thing to Heaven

This is the kind of life I want to lead; calm and apart from civilization. The rat race of the city I don’t need. I’ll take this rustic part of our nation. Let me travel the land on horseback. We can ford a cool, flowing mountain stream. This is the land I love called “The Outback”; the next best thing to heaven it would seem.


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Elevated Laughter

I stood on the steps 
To look at a Girraffe 
Enormous eyelashes 
Soon caused me to laugh 

She seemed some what offended
As She batted her eyes
She never had this affect
On any other guys

The oxygen must be thin
All of a sudden she could talk
She said if I kept laughing
She would turn around and walk

If any one was funny
She said it had to be me
A neck so short an scrawny 
must make it really hard to see

She took her very long tongue
Started licking my ear
She said she'd never seen one
That was so small and so dear

I was  a little surprised
As I took a short step back
I tripped and fell through the air
Then I landed with a wack

She could not help herself
It's her that had the last laugh
As for the butt bruised me
I seen a laughing Girraffe 

She said so long shorty
I'm more into tall guys
She turned and away
As I yelled my goodbyes


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Night Flight

Silver dollar orbits full,
illuminates a slumbered trail.
Like tidal rhythms I feel the pull.
Subconsciousness now sets sail.

I'm floating, flying viewing all
as my mind stays on the ground.
And suddenly I'm very small,
no conflict can be found.

The daily worries, stress and fears
seem to vanish with the night.
And loneliness just disappears
in dreams when I take flight.

yet even this nirvana state
finds abrupt dissolution.
Eagerly my mind awaits
it's nocturnal resolution.


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A Famous Old Lady

There once was an old lady
A cautious one was she
But she still drove her motor-car
At the age of one-oh-three

She was feared, and yes, respected
On every county road
'Cause she drove down the center-line
And in "white-knuckle" mode

And if you were behind her
You were certain to be late
Because she always raced along 
At the speed of twenty-eight

All up and own our county roads
Where forty is the norm
She steadfastly maintained twenty-eight
Past forest, field, and farm

Well, then, one day it happened
I won't forget the day
She drove into a wagon
Piled high with bales of hay

The wagon slid across the road
Cut down a 'lectric pole
The sparking set the hay on fire
Her car did one full roll

She wasn't realy injured,
But quite irate, they say
The wagon she rear-ended
Was in her right of way!

Insurance settled out of court
Details were never heard
The farmer simply grins and says
"The figure was absurd"

No longer does he transport hay
Or even grow the stuff
His cattle-barn sits idle nnow
'Cause he has cash enough

Oh, he still plants a garden
For just himself and wife
Fresh veggies do taste better
As they ease their way though life

The lady's in an old-folks home
Down by the Middle Creek
I think she's doing very well
Her birthday was last week

Her party made the T.V. News
She's reached a hundred-five
She'll probably live a few more years
'Cause now she does not drive!


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Path of Jedi

Jedi knight
Evil fight
Force unite
Beware dark side's bite!


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KILIMANJARO

 KILIMANJARO

Almost lost.  Scanty  ice below equator,
Trackless wilderness of ice and fire.
Africa’s king.  I’ve climbed none  higher.
Kilimanjaro  with majestic  crater

Like the  long-gone  dodos,  -    somnolent
Before  this white man
Saw such  ground of  black  obsidian -
Kilimanjaro  -  not  extinct,   but dormant .

Gift  valley  to Kaiser  from Queen
Rift  valley - my world  is coming apart. 
Where do I go , where to start?
The Snows of Kilimanjaro are barely seen.

Hemingway knew the score
How high do we  aim?
With our  excuses   so  lame? 
And what do we settle for?


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Amazing How Much a Mother Gives

Danger gripped that day so long ago.
Sunshine and a picnic should be fun!
One mom and five children, friends, you know.
Hysterically shouting, mom screamed, “Run!”

There they were, skipping rocks on the lake.
Two boys, one was ten and one seven.
Both carefully watching for a snake,
Sisters nearby played, each soft spoken.

Boys had fun counting skips.  One.  Two.  Three.
Mom by the grill, busily cooking,
Watched; two girls laughed and giggled by a tree.
The toddler hugged her mom, clinging.

The boys, soon, tossed some stones at a log.
Competition: who could hit it most?
One after another in the bog,
Counting their hits, they both were engrossed.

All of a sudden, the log rose up.
“Come get the baby; go climb a tree!”
Life or death seemed to be a tossup.
Terror stuck; like mom screamed, we did flee!

Boys in a tree, girls on a table,
Mom and the gator stared eye to eye.
He moved forward, each step gradual.
She stood her ground; I feared she might die.

Not one step back, she stood there and dared.
Would he attack?  We all watched Mom’s back. 
He wanted to…Mom won as she glared.
He slithered back, Mom’s courage, no lack!

The picnic was over; we packed up.
Mom loved her babies; she saved our lives.
Needless to say, it was a shakeup.
Amazing how much a mother gives.

© October 8, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Oops...too late for the "Stand Out Day Contest"


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Cartoon Bubbles

Cartoon bubbles floating up high
A globe of iridescent wonders
Gossamer gloves against the sky
Changing as they drift and plunder

Do you see the child inside,
Floating up within you?
All is free in this bubbly façade 
Allowing you your own view

Bring those cartoon bubbles to life
Exhale…. imagine you’re on one
Lifting softly floating away strife
A heightened spirit presumption

Cartoon bubbles floating up high
Blow one outside for everyday fun
Knowing always that you too can fly
Any time in the afternoon sun


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Come Up Higher

I write of a dream
Out of the body, alive in the spirit
It begin on a slipping bare field
Intriguingly, there is nothing to shield

A feeling of fear run through me
As the enemy approaches
A mass of fearful thoughts
As the foe runs across

Running, racing, gasping for breath
Climbing steeper slopes
Running endless races
Racing to dreadful places

For one glorious moment
It dawned on me I can fly
I can fly on wings of Angels?
Even on wings of archangels?

Then comes a voice…Echoing
Come on fly!...Come up higher!
In awe! My feet was high above the ground
This left the enemy confound

I begin to soar and to glide like an Eagle
High up am safe and secure!
High up I can reach for the stars!
High up I can reach for the mars!!

And they heard a loud voice from heaven saying to them, “Come Up Here [Higher]”. And they ascended to heaven in a cloud, and their enemies saw them [no more]. Revelation 11:12


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I Stood, Tall

I had nothing
but faith beside me
through it all
knowing I came down
again to walk 
on the face 
of the earth
 
Water began
pouring and pouring
from the sky
I knew I had
to head for cover
from the passing storms
I stood tall,
eventhough it 
was pouring rain 

While others fell
beneath the rocks
of fire
I saw the ocean 
began to rise
and the roaring sea 
waves clash on to the land

I stood tall,
as I heard thunder 
began to roar
and all the creatures 
shook with fear

I knew I had
to bring light
as the clouds 
in the sky grew dark
I came down 
as the ground was shaking

Knowing I came
down to walk
on the face of the earth

When the nails,
began piecing my hands
the arms were stretched out
on both sides 
and feet interlocked 
together on the cross

I had nothing
but faith beside me
through it all
knowing I came down
again to walk on the face 
of the earth
  



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Snowflakes Escape

            Snowflakes Escape

At the crack of dawn shots rang out
Ducks scattered at the sound
Obscenities quacked back from every beak
Hunters were not there for them

They came to capture fox
Snow fell with cartridges as hunters froze in thought 
In perfect orchestration with the day and perfect aim
Focused on the games in nature

Bringing down their prey with rifles
Setting traps along the way
Men bundled in pillow white disguise
Running with their dogs and guns through narrow paths

Towering trees held green along the way
Held their ground below the mountain
Hunters settled
Looking for some warmth after the captures


Campfires blazed
Storms rolled in on bitter winds
Enter the calm
Large swirling flakes continued on the quiet

Each one avoiding warmth to hold their form
Away from creatures clad in natures white, like fox
Away from bundled men disguised in white
Snowflakes made their escape into the silence

 
  


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The UFO at Cary Forest

Nestled among the trees in a primitive campsite,
A cub scout and his mother were on their third camp-out.
The tent was pitched; double foil wrapped food was cooked just right.
The young campfire cook gave his skills a great workout.

In the past they had stayed there several days at a time.
Driving through the forest just the mom and her young boy.
Thinking about those days brings back memories sublime.
It was a lot of work, but brought them so much joy.

Nights were spent listening to the serenading bullfrog.
At dawn, she photographed wildlife while he made bird-calls.
One morning when they came around the bend in the fog,
A long-necked majestic doe stood tall and enthralled.

The angle was such that she could not get a good shot.
So, she handed him her Cannon; he aimed, then, clicked.
It would be days prior to seeing the picture he got.
She and her son took pleasure in the woodlands frolicked.

In the hours of darkness they finished playing cards.
Their lantern was glowing; it was time to go to sleep.
Outside there was a whirring they could not disregard.
The mother turned out the light; whispered, “Don't make a peep!”

Her heart was pounding faster and her eyes opened wide.
She was afraid to move, but tried her best to be brave.
She unzipped the tent slowly and took a look outside.
The unlikely sight she saw gave her heart a shock wave.
 
Up in the sky was a circle of lights… humongous!
The outer ones were orange and the inner ones flashed white.
The sound was so loud that soon the boy became anxious.
With a quiet hush she said, “We're going to be alright.”

All she could think about was fear and their abduction.
Teenage daughters, not camping, needed her to survive.
She was so terrified her mind could hardly function.
There was nothing she could do to get out of there alive.

Would sharp-witted life forms from outer space understand?
She had no choice but try; inside she shed silent tears.
Begging aloud to the alien craft, words unplanned.
Daughters, with no one to tend them would struggle for years.

When she explained their situation, the noise ceased quickly.
She peeked outside again to see only stars in the sky.
He, now a man, was not allowed to look out…hazy.
She thanks God for the night the aliens went bye-bye.

©  October 8, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

P.S. Years later, she saw the same craft in NASA space photos listed as something not 
seen before…unidentified!  When she went to show her husband, the picture had 
“disappeared!”


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20 Lines Haiku Hijack

          20 Line Haiku Hijack

I stole a haiku from Japan
Stuffed it in a duffle bag, added 20 lines
Fed it chocolate day and night before the flight
Then placed it on the market when I landed

Shrimp and whale tails make sound haiku 
Deliciously simple like sushi.  Japan hated mine.
Called it distasteful, too heavy and rude 
Complaining it suffered from too many lines

I sold the stolen poem to a toothless man next
An Afghanistan Taliban in need of a wife
He realized the mistake and returned it at once  
Calling it bland, loveless and torturously trite

I injected a diaphragm on the haiku 2nd line     
To prevent undo pregnancies
When left alone to expand, haiku will multiply on command
It grew from 3 to 20 lines in what Japan calls a crime

Hijacking haiku and adding more lines is wrong  
It changes the meaning and makes it too long
Haiku will never be the same again
In the end I put it on a train to India…a quatrain to be exact. 


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Pieces

The tickets are purchased
the timing is right, 
Peace and happiness surge,
We leave at the stroke of midnight

Awaiting a fresh start,
a pleasant sense of pressure;
Opening a piece of my heart,
beginning a new adventure 

Nothing but the open road
All the pieces fall to their space,
The future is left to unfold; 
On the road to our new place


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Student's Descent

with apologies to E. A. Poe...

Student Descent

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

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

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

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

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


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Red Lights

quatrains

With one last sip, she starts to slip
her mind is gone, she's lost her grip.
An image came she'll not forget
of hellish anquish in a pit.

She drifted back to childhood years
when she would often play in tears -
her brother's pranks that stranded her
on creekbed rocks,  became a blur.

Still farther back in mem'ry past
she saw herself as sinking fast
into a tub of pouring rain
afraid of swooshing down the drain.

And now her mind's eye takes its turn
she flags, unable to discern
her left from right nor up from down;
no color left, all things are brown.

Her hearing's next to take a dip
and then her heart begins to skip.
Her cup was laced with lsd
or opiates in poppy tea?

No real harm done, she saw red lights,
and learned a lesson, learned her rights.
Was it just luck she did not flip?
She never took another trip.



Paula Swanson's contest And With a Sip
4th place:  4/30/12


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All The Way Live

                                       


                                      So we're on the brink of a new weekend;
                                       And I'm ready for the guests to arrive.
                                          Come Friday everything will begin;
                                                  Let's go all the way live.





                                                     ©2014 Honestly JT


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Fading Anguish

Forced down onto the thick mud
the stench of this rotten blood
Determined for this to be surreal
My fate would change if it were real

My life begins anew In my head
From the time mother put me to bed
Father took me to my first Yankee’s game
Where I was inspired by their fame

To keep the kids soundly in bed
My blood, I fear, I must shed
Not knowing whether I would live or die
the anguish is consuming my thigh

The pain is slowly dying out
my destiny is nothing but a doubt
Laying on the red infested loam
Guadalcanal, you are my last home.


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Celestial Being

Beyond all there is a light that shines
A spark far out in the horizon 
A wave of peaceful stillness 
Stuck in it's own contraption

Meditating a world beneath my feet
A dark ancient wisdom subsides 
The very steps of natural laws 
The possible outcomes defined

Seeking the traces to the origins 
From which this black hole arises 
To take all that nurtures the dark
The cold return of reprisal

Recenter the cosmos to align
With which all rises from the ashes 
Matter leaves what matters not 
Matter shan't kill what matters not

Centrifugal speeds, collisions
Intergalactic gruesome opposition 
Hollow and empty this star sways 
Sways from an abandoned airspace

Matter leaves what matters not 
Matter shan't kill what matters not


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Illuminate

Like the sun's kiss in the morning
Pitch black dark with a flashing light
From a lighthouse when it's storming
That helps to guide you through the night


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Tonight I Went to Heaven

Tonight I went to Heaven

Tonight, I went to heaven even though I was asleep.
Alone stood I in a clouded hall, confused and at the brink.
Starkness attacked my presence; bewildered I began to weep.
In the distance, I saw figures and my eyes started to blink.

Slowly white approached me…light was their backdrop.
Awe-stricken by the quiet, my eternity seemed so near.
I could not feel my heartbeat throb; soon, breath, too, began to stop.
My swirling head spun very fast, images appeared unclear.

With open arms they greeted me my loved friends and relatives dear.
Peace and light surrounded everywhere as starkness disappeared.
“Come, my dear, do not shed your tears. Our Father is very near.”
I walked with them beyond that light; my trust had been commandeered.

I did not see the pearly gates, but the streets were burnished gold.
Winding paths where chariots passed on golden bricks placed with care.
There tapestries spun from angel hair, I spellbound did behold.
Glistened by the Father’s glow that radiated loves bright flare.

I expected the grandest mansions, exquisite, very plush.
But saw small dwellings of much style each one prepared...in place.
People walked upon the streets, but not one soul did I see rush.
Simple, like the Savior, unfettered-love filled Heaven's space.

Soft music permeated, heavenly singing infusing.
I wondered why they took me from the hall to that lovely hill -
Dressed in perfect whiteness they came with pureness embracing.
And led me to my amazing and beautiful dreamy thrill.

© July 17, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


© July 17, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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Robin of Locksley's Quest

As the Sheriff of Nottingham’s prisoner
Maid Marian had been locked in a tower
Robin and his loyal band of merry men
Were determined to quash the sheriff’s power

In Sherwood Forest Friar Tuck made a plan
Robin’s crew were eager to take some action
Dressed as jesters, they infiltrated the courtyard
Their garb created the desired distraction

As the sheriff laughed at the entertainment
Robin and Will Scarlett found a passageway
Hundreds of feet they climbed to Maid Marian
While the merry men kept the sheriff at bay

A huge oak stood far beyond the castle walls
Using rope he brought, Robin lassoed the tree
Securing strong belts, all three went zip-lining
With the friar’s plan Marian was set free

Beneath their costumes Robin’s band had arrows
Bows were secretly fastened to each man’s back
As soon as the trio had zipped their way out
The men in the courtyard began their attack

Oh my, how the sharp arrows flew on that day
Striking the sheriff in his butt and his neck
He got his due, though he’d never had a clue
And the sheriff’s courtyard was left in a wreck

Though the sheriff survived, he wished he hadn’t
What can be worse than a great pain in the butt
Maid Marian and Robin had the last laugh
While dining quite festively in their straw hut



*Written April 5, 2014


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The Camper

Through the murky veil of morning fog, the smell of bacon,
as it creeps, slowly winding its way from the frying pan scent.
Riding high on the morning mist, it steals across into the tent,
silent as a crawling snail, into the cub Scout’s bag to awaken.


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Ink Stains

                                     You've tried to hit me with a pick-up truck,
                                            But instead you caught the train.
                                            Thinking you had the game won,
                                            I was the one to say checkmate.







                                                     





                                                     ©2014 Honestly JT


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Tall Tales

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




Tribute To Writers Here At
P.S.

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


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What Dreams are Made Of

To your achromatic canvas
fresh without a mark upon it,
I'll paint a crimson road of chance
and a bright tangerine bonnet.

With detail, I'll add two young girls,
coffee-skinned lasses without cream,
made sweet by their long, dark tresses
and hopes for that bonnet, their dream.

Down the middle of this tableau
I'll trace a canal in cyan
which crosses the road - a stricture
twixt girls, the bonnet and their plan.

A well-bronzed boy and russet raft
I'll sketch to solve this small wrinkle.
Then I'll craft a second bonnet
hiding in some periwinkle.

While this image seems incomplete
in your mind's eye, with poet's brush
you will create a final scene
of flamboyance. No need to rush. 


written:  August 1, 2012


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Transform

Where should I begin,
And where would this road lead?
So, how will the story end,
When these roadblocks are set between?







©2014 Honestly JT


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A Poet 'Neath Each 2K11

Let us venture externally the box, Let's discover - let's rediscover a Poet 'neath each prelude an earthbound box; Students we'll remain e'er in a day.


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THE WATERMELON THIEVES

                                     THE WATERMELON THIEVES

Once when I was oh so young,
My mom decided she,
Would show us where some melons grew,
Beneath some large orange trees.

A farmer man she knew of,
Grew them there she said,
So folks would leave alone the fruit,
That grew above their head.

The melons were okay to take.
Just let the oranges be,
So off we went to pick some,
My mom, my sis and me.

I was only five years old,
So I sat in the car,
With Mama's friend who drove us there,
No light from moon or stars;

Because the orange trees blocked their light,
And I was sore afraid,
Because it was so dark in there,
Hidden in the glade.

Suddenly I saw my mom,
Running like the wind,
Right behind her came my sis,
A melon 'neath each limb.

Then in a flash my mom went down,
She tripped and broke her melons.
"Run Ruth, Run!" I heard her say,
They're runnin' and they're yellin'.

Mother! Wait! I heard Sis call,
For she had gone down too,
Stepped in a rotten one and fell,
They both were in a stew.

A flashlight beam then pierced the dark,
They made the car just barely;
And we took off just like a shot,
Took out the fence gate squarely.

We made it back home just past one.
They laughed until they cried.
I was so young I just sat there,
Agape with my eyes wide.

My mother had skinned both her shins,
My sister, she smelled funny,
Because that melon she stepped in,
Was rotten and real funky.

Some thought my mom as mothers go,
Not what you'd call high scoring,
But I can tell you life back home,
For sure was never boring.

                                                     Judy Ball

FOR NATHAN D.'s - LET'S PUT A SMILE ON MY FACE CONTEST


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Zelda Twilight Wishes

                            Zelda Twilight Wishes
             (Credit to game creators of Twilight Princess)

As Link I become imprisoned in myself in Highrule land
Like a drug addicted monkey I take my task in hand
Midna, a creature from twilight world enchants me
I transform into a wolf as she rides upon my back and laughs

Two wild creatures set out to find their quests
I need to free Zelda from the hands of evil Ganondorf 
Midna commands me, makes me attack a creature
Some creepy thing called Zant from her dark world

Later I’m turned back to human, somewhat wounded
Ample tools, arrays of gadgets can be found around the land
For destruction and for sport to vanquish evil on the spot           
Rupees too and health are everywhere in treasure boxes

I have blisters on my hands and fingers from vanquishing beasties for the girls
Zelda, The Twilight Princess, happy with my accomplishments 
Says; “Thank you Link!” “I wish you well.” Then puts me on her Christmas list
After all this fighting I’m getting twisted.  I don’t even get a good-bye kiss


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Hello January

Hello January.
You've come to me again
much brighter and much fresher
than where it all began.

Another year of Income Tax
forced upon us all.
-Frightened of the Government
and fear the cops will call.

But then there is the lighter side.
That money's in the bank.
Thanks to Direct Deposit
and accountants I will thank.

The past seems rather far away.
-Forgotten and gone dark.
I wonder if you're new to me
or repeat a distant spark.

But when I think of January
or "Jan" I'll say for short.
You're more than an old problem to me.
You fill my life with sport.

I'm filled with your anxiety
that makes me want for more
and hope gives me direction
while strength's a place to soar.

And though you're only new to me
and somewhat of a moocher.
I know you hold the key for me
that leads me to my future.


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Summer Dream

What do I have to
look forward to?
Maybe, it's who and
then.
I long for the day
when I'll see you,
And your smiling
face again.


©2014 Honestly JT


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Sunblown

Conjure me a time when I 
Was happy to believe
‘fore rules and complications
Filled with smog my birthday eve
Set the table ring the bell
For all to take their place
And time machine with me back to
The edge of memories long erased
Serve me up on paper plates
And help the candles blow
Soothe the hunger pains with joyous
Innocence we used to know
Tell of bedtime stories
Grant a blow afar for wishes kissed
Pray a blessing on the ones 
Whose presence we so sorely miss
Whistle in remembrance as
We take our turns to reminisce
Though life is short we take the time
To sympathize oblivious
Eventful is the journey next
Forever onto future realms
Unknown to each and all of us
The light that overwhelms


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Headstone

She's the play that is blown dead;
Yet I can't get her out of my head.
This headstone should be read,
"Herein lies regret"




©2014 Honestly JT




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Floundering at Night

A flounder is a flat fish, found in tidal waters Laying on the bottom, partially covered with sand “Floundering”, is a nighttime sport on the Texas coast You slowly wade through tidal flats, with a gig in hand A helper carries a Coleman lantern, held on high You both keep scanning the bottom for a tail-tell sign If you spy the flounder’s head with those two eyes on top Gig him and get him on to shore quick and don’t waste time There’s another creature that covers-up in the sand You must always be alert and on the watch for him A sting ray has a serrated barb in its whip tail A bad encounter with this creature can turn out grim Don’t take steps when you wade, just slide your feet in the sand Should you bump a sting ray, hopefully he’ll swim away But if you’re taking steps and you step on top of one Then you’re in real trouble and there will be hell to pay The flounder is excellent fair; meat white and flakey They can be cooked many ways: baked, fried or on the grill Although you can catch them by fishing with hook and bait Wading at night and gigging one, is a bigger thrill


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The Cardboard Box

I built a cardboard house
that came with four large flaps.
And when they're folded over
the roof it over-lapse.

I have to crouch inside it.
It's not made very tall.
But when I go to stand up
the roof gives way and all.

It hasn't got a window.
It's dark without a light
and nothing to be feared
when nothing is in sight.

I can't lay down inside it.
It's much too small to sleep
and if I start to nod off,
I'll hit the wall and weep.

I live alone inside it.
There isn't room for more.
And if someone came over
they'd see there is no door.

I haven't got a mailbox
and live with no address.
And if you want to find me
you'll simply have to guess.

I move around quite often.
It's not my place to brag.
But you won't say I'm rich
when I grab my house and drag.

I'm happy once inside it
and live from day to day.
And if you should come over,
I'll flip it and we'll play.


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pirated words

I stole this poem
with cutlass and eyes
words lusted and trusted 
so I took of this prize

it's chests of golden
it's flashing jeweled verbs
and left letters worthless
to be picked by the birds

sailing 'cross bleached pages
under azure blue skies
I stole of my own life
and took what implies

existence on dangerous sees
to the edge of the earth and
boarded keyboard south of the keys
taking every word of worth

pillaging the hapless literati
demanding chains and trinkets
relieving authors boasting haughty
of bootied lines me think it's

better to hold to bright sun 
to see glint in the daylight
some pirated pentameter outdone
without sword of pen to fight

so hang me dashed by a yardarm
an' tell lies of me glories
whilst takin' maidens in arm
regaling wild legended stories

but, me matey, ye'd better beware
of plagiarists fast on your tale
'cross oceans of notions they dare
pirate your own words to unveil

to their own laughing lasses and crew
drinking and toasting remembrance of you
what's a pirating plagiarist to do?
- but pirate a poem out of the blue

aaarrgh matey - 
        I'll be takin' them lines now...

© Goode Guy 2012-12-13


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Appalachian-second bear episode

Meanwhile, our troop moved on down the trail.
One more bear episode needs be told.
We arrived at the next stop with out fail.
It was late evening and beginning to get cold.

Two of us went to the horse spring for a bath
And use the same one to clean our clothes.
As we left the spring we saw blocking our path.
A mother bear and two cubs, ...fear arose.

We hid behind a tree and watched them.
In our unlaced boots, carrying wet things.
As they walked up the path toward the rim.
We knew we couldn’t just appear threatening.

We slowly followed keeping the cubs in sight.
The mother had left the weanlings.
But reappeared on top of a bank on the right.
As she jumped we started yelling and arms flinging.


They ran, she ran, we gathered our stuff and we ran.
Yelling and flailing, we chased them past the adirondack
We...right behind, duck into it fast as we can
and tie the gate before they could come back.

Come back they did and playfully bite on the wire.
The boys were elated and good pictures taken,
To show their friends that none of us was a liar.
Bruce and I recovered after being so visibly shaken.

They finally left, and so came to a fitting end,
Our last bear episode and good laugh,
The other boys had at our expense and chagrin.
On the oldest boy and the “chief of staff”.

We hiked our last six miles with no major events.
Still time to glow for being a trail survivor.
Fontana resort awaited...hot showers, condiments
Then home...all slept soundly, except me... the driver.

© Mar 30 2010       Charles Henderson


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Divine Passion

Two pleasantly caressing forms envelope Blood rushing in, filling every pore Her heart meshes, blends in, develop A flash, a pulse, each breath does explore An enticing glow embellishes Her heartstrings tug and pull divinely about I feel overwhelmed, she grants some wishes Our lines are open, our feelings are surely stout We roll, we inhale, we delight in the air Passion controls the hearts of the two of us Hold me close, let us explain how much we care Our eyes hold firm, a caress, an expression thus She’s overflowing with a willpower Significance in her appearance We hold our love that our lives will empower Romance at its highest, a form of endearance
Russell Sivey


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tagged

young buck, half buck, maybe two buck duo
maybe troubled like infamous Dutch painter
maybe a whole gang'a bucks that you know 
shakin' cans for markin' their container

a mark of art - some meaty graffiti
you see it's in the eye of the beholder
some show as crass trash junkin' thinkin'
some show as true talent a bit bolder

tag lines, Graffito, in muraled center-city
socio-arterial politico feigned angry, witty
truth's not pristine, it's dirty and gritty
walled-up feelings sprayed out upon the city

been runnin' the rails since the rails converged
been runnin' in streets since ancient antiquity
been runnin' since peoples opinions diverged
been runnin' thoughout civilization's calligraphy

there's been ugly crap - there's been beauty
there's been lies lined up on concrete walls
there's been tags behind corner cops on duty
there's graffiti hanging in the MoMA art halls

ever'body's got som'thin' they wanna say
ever'body wants their ideas to have weight
ever'body really wants to have their own way
ever'body's clean-slatein' with urge to create

Bomb the wall with eight cans o' Rustoleum
like Jef Aérosol, Avoid pi, and Cha in Barcelona
Bomb it good t' let 'em know where you're from
picture your mind floatin' with that aérosol aroma

so, is it some peoples art of expression
or is it an eyesore with no merit to us
that conversation is a never-ending question
really depends on tags you put on it, I guess

© Dave Lego 2013-01-14

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graffiti 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MoMA
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jef_A%C3%A9rosol
http://www.adamvoid.com/index.php?/archive/archive/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cha_(artist)
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/aerosol-200802.html


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Flare Fishing

High pipe stacks venting hot burning gas In the Gulf of Mexico where fishing a blast Oil rigs vent natural gas that never stops The hot flames create - crackles, snaps and pops This hot burning flame is known as a flare it’s the serious fisherman will you find there The heat’s so intense you stay far away You catch fish there at night; not during day Bugs are attracted to the flame at night Then heat over comes them, they drop from flight Small fish are waiting each night for the feed That draws the big ones for the food they need The giant ones are also hanging around Normally the sharks find this feeding ground When a giant one swallows a fish you have on Best to cut your line before it’s all gone But on this trip we’re after speckled trout Keep fishing until all ice chests fill out All poles are rigged up with two hooks per line You’re always expected to catch two at a time A speckled trout isn’t a trout at all It’s named is “weakfish”, that’s its proper call A brackish water fish, gets a foot long In the Gulf at the flares, grow twice that long “Flare fishing” involves being up all night Grab a snack and cool one when off the bite It’s a long run to get there and get back Make the best of it you can, do not slack All the ice chests must be packed just right With layers of fish and layers of ice Most all of the fish that we catch, we sell A night of flare fishing, you’re tired as hell You think to yourself I’m done doing that Too much work and no sleep for what I get But when someone says, “Let’s fish the flares” I’ll say, “Sure, I love to catch them in pairs”


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THE DREARINESS OF THIS FRIGID SEASON

Goodbye Fall with all the auburn leaves of the reddest sunset,
goodbye crackling path where I met the last songbirds,
whose melody accompained me to winter's doors;
and with deep sadness I kept on looking back.


Welcome gloomy winter with short afternoons and long evenings;
watching the advancing shadows and loudly hearing
the furious sound of the squall rampaging the stately trees,
and making them weep when the icy rain comes down with lightining. 


Sitting in a rattling, rocking chair, I peruse through pages of sunny places afar,
forgetting the dreariness of this frigid season and be consoled by a warm fire;  
and still nostalgia abounds...thinking of the pleasant strolls of a past season,
which thrilled me with its colors, and through delight I justified my reason. 


O winter, don't linger as you always have...shorten your stay, avoid foul play; 
and could I ever stand a pale sun, hardly giving off with its luminiscence,
in this house hidden among the maples and the pines of a squalid valley?
Old winter, don't mislead me with days without snow...that's utter pretense!


Goodbye explorer fedora hat keeping my dreamer's head cool, 
sparing my skin another ugly wrinkle, allowing late beauty to rule;   
goodbye iced coffee sipped from my Big Apple plastic cup,
which I bought along Fifth Avenue in a crowded, variety shop. 


Ummerciful winter, pity the desperate state I am in,
reduce the wrath of your devastation, step inside and to tell me your amazing tales...
hoping that I will write them down for everyone to read and enjoy for immortal ages;
relentless winter, reduce the dreariness of this frigid season.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Country Line Dancing

The most rewarding thing I've done
Difficult to do, but loads of fun
In my old age, I've learned to dance
Come and join me, take the chance

One Step Forward, two steps back
No one gets anywhere like that
But it sure is fun out on the floor
Once you're hooked, you'll want more

Slappin' Leather, Watermelon Crawl
As you turn, please don't fall
Waltz Across Texas if you dare
Name a date, I'll meet you there

Two Step, Ten Step, Cotton Eyed Joe
Sweetheart Stroll and away you go
Stationary Cha Cha, looks so fine
Bumping those hips, right in line

Improve your mind, reduce your size
You're better than you realize
Join Silver Games when you're old
Give it your all, go for the gold!


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A RED SUNSET FOR A SPECIAL VALENTINE

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


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


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


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


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


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Ballad of a Desperado


...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song 
   'The Road Goes On Forever'



Flyin' high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leakin' oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputterin', it starts to boil.

Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.

Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.

He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rearview,
blows a tire and fits the spare.

Evenin' comes, it starts to rainin',
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!

Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.

North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doin' ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!

He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.


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THE PIGS AND THE PINE TREE

                                             THE PIGS AND THE PINE TREE

Once upon a time,
So very long ago,
I took my dogs out for a run,
Not far from home and so,

I thought we would all be fine,
Beneath the cooling shadows,
Of the trees and bushes,
As we ran past field and fallow.

The forest was the place for us,
Where we might see a deer,
And mayhap chase some rabbits,
And splash through streams so clear.

We loved the forest and the fields,
Loved resting in the shade,
Of the Pine grove way out back,
Where squirrels and wild things played.

One day while we hunted there,
To see what we might find,
We happened on a bunch of pigs,
Not tame, the wild kind.

Big black tuskers that they were,
With humps and slopeing heads.
You can't chase them, they won't run,
They'll chase you instead.

Immediately the dogs gave chase,
And just as quickly scattered.
I went straight up the nearest tree,
Escape was all that mattered.

The dogs went home and gathered 'round,
The porch and Mama knew,
Something was wrong and called the boys,
And they were worried too.

The dogs went home without me,
A sign something was up.
They told them, "Go find Judy",
The trail was soon picked up.

The pigs had gathered 'round the tree,
Where I hung and cried,
I could hear Mom calling me,
Worried what betide,

Her wandering girl out in those woods,
She sent the boys to find me.
Meanwhile the pigs got tired and left,
So I came down the Pine tree.

My uncles laughed and laughed at me,
As they told the story,
Of how they found me in the woods,
Climbing down a Pine tree.
                                                    Judy Ball

Pine trees don't have limbs. But I climbed it anyway.



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FEAR of Sharks

When my kids were small and for several years We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast Where the sand was white and the water clear And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast Both Bruce and Mary Ann would join us there In those days, we had the beach to ourselves A week of fun without a single care Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves Just clear water from shore to the sand bar It turns to a dark blue where it gets deep This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far Lying on air mattresses half asleep Some people on shore, strolling up the beach We both heard them when they started to yell They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there! Scared shitless, started paddling like hell Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two While at my best, I stand five foot seven With those long arms of his, his mattress flew Way behind, I was praying to heaven Then it happened, I fell off the mattress Legs hanging down and floundering around Looking more like shark bait, increased the stress Fear was eminence; then my feet hit the ground Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me “Take a look over there, was do you see?” No sharks, just a few porpoise swimming free Yet, out there, FEAR was as great as can be


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Henry Wordsworth Longfellow

Just 'fore words formed inside my head 
as my mother put me to bed
her sweet voice would rhyme to lull me
tales of children wild and misled.

Who ran and played and sang and danced
deep in teepees as in a trance.
Or climbing atop the walls of castles
dueled with broom stick used as lance.

The children’s hour was our time
to kiss and snuggle laugh and sigh.
And she taught me of Paul Revere
of his rushed ride with red coats nigh.

So many Longfellow tales told
of bold, real or imagined feats
that never did I want her voice 
to stop or pause or to repeat.

Tennyson could tell a tale of
charging brigands in full retreat.
But, none could met the glory of
Longfellow’s stories so replete! 


*Longfellow wrote Hiawatha, The Chidren's Hour, and Paul Revere's Ride
among dozens of other poem stories. In the 1920's children were taught
history through the use of poetry.



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Shannon's Well Come!/ Ireland, 2003

Arched as a Gothic Temples dome,
Arched as the wood of Cupid’s bow,
Arched as the back of Atlas bent,
The rainbow stretched from end to end.

Full of goodness, God and Goddess,
Each new dew-drenched droplet wreathing,
The checkered hills and bulwark cliffs
Where mans myth and mystery sleep.

No pot of gold, or leprechaun,
Could transform splendor to compare,
To the crystalline colored pallet
Which lay languid in morning's air.

Full of glory to the highest,
Each bright prism particle paired,
With all creation’s precious hues
Dancing, dreamily in the air.


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No More Elementary

I hate going to school 
BUt, I love going to the pool 
I hate when I get worried 
I always start to scurry 
I hate school lunch 
But, I don't mind the brunch 
When I eat the chicken patty 
I act a little bratty.    

                                                              No More Elementary 
                                                                               Jared Houck


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Genre

Books are the cheapest way to go on vacation;
You meet a new friend every chapter.
On some pages you feel elation, 
And at the same time you’re filled with laughter.

Some tales are filled with mystery, 
Some are full of adventure, 
Lots dive deep into history, 
Some only the brave can venture.

Mystery books involve a crime
In which the hero must find some clues, 
He must solve the riddle in time, 
So that the criminal gets accused.

Adventure books start with a quest;
They can take you to a land far away.
I tend to like those books best
Where the knight always saves the day.

History books can be varied.
They can be about Medieval Times,
Or people who have been buried,
Maybe even kings in their primes.

Some books try to scare you, 
They make you afraid to sleep, 
They have sorcerers in robes of blue, 
Who send out monsters to creep.

When you are sad and depressed, 
You can quickly distract your mind.
Just find the book you like the best,
And your journey’s not far behind.


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The Measure of a Fall


...inspired by the song 'Northbound 35' by Jeffrey Foucault



Three hundred miles and counting,
Kansas blacktop, battling snow,
visibility's poor, his sadness is mounting,
from here to there he has nowhere to go.

Lela left, took the kids and the horses,
hostility raging and angry goodbyes,
broken dishes and old, shattered promises,
nothing but highway and tears in his eyes.

Wichita, Lawrence, there's nobody waiting,
mile upon mile with no real destination,
no one to call, his memories grating,
thinking the while of self elimination.

Motels and hotels, the marks of community, 
churches that urge you to come on inside,
Salvation Army, use them with impunity,
doctors and hospitals serving with pride.

Hope springs eternal, that's what they say,
confidence builds as he goes on his way,
to gather himself, shake it off, that is all,
grace the true measure, the cure for a fall.


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GETTING TOO OLD

GETTING  TOO  OLD



Her story told by old charts, scattered, water-drenched. 
Portholes all broken, shaft and screw missing :  a  wreck ,
Grounded  on concrete platform  like an old man sitting on bench, 
Battered  funnel,  broken hawsers, holes in deck.


Tell you stories about the old days when he mattered.
Eyeglasses cracked.   Some say he has a screw loose :
Old man on a bench, like a ship in dry dock, rust splattered,
Battered hat, torn trousers,  holes in shoes.


Endured war  sagas at the siege of Malta,
Braved storms in the Bering Sea  - ice cold, 
Saw exotic island sunsets in Straits of Malacca,
With cargoes varied, they  traveled  the world. 

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


Written   for  Matt   Caliri’s  Contest    “Write A Backwards Poem”


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When Marbles Fall

          When Marbles Fall

Happy are the children on the wall of time
Playing marbles by the castle keep
Soldiers watch them secure that they won’t climb
But become bored and fall to sleep

The children are not children at all
But spies that cry for freedom
They slay the soldiers in a modest brawl
The king is next to fall to lose his kingdom 

Fate takes the king with a confidant to towers top
Spies follow them to that end
It is there where all of this must stop
The king must die but first his friend

Marble in this upper room is splendid
King marvels for one last time his acquisitions
Too bad right here and now he must end it
To simply die without his royalties permission 


                   Created 7/12/14 for- Not Just Any Old Quatrain contest


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Under Construction

In New York City at Ground Zero
The World Trade Centre Tower once stood
After its grim aftermath destruction
The illustrious tower is under construction

To minimize future structural failures and other catastrophes
The new tower is design and constructed
To be earthquake, fire and wind resistance
As wind pressure increase with height distance

There have been slight changes made to the original
It is reinforced to resist compression and tension
Engineer MacGray is so far thrilled
As they are a step closer seeing the mission fulfilled

A Christian is a structure under construction
We are under a divine construction of the Holy Spirit
God is at work in you to shape and to remove your imperfections
According to that Mighty Glorious Power of His resurrection

Your life may be of no rhyme or reason
The Master Engineer is at work to bring balance, symmetry and order
He is reinforcing His ideas for a spiritual transformation
The Holy Spirit is empowering His new creation

The structure is not built in a single day
Neither is His Divine Masterpiece
So as the Master Designer hammer and chisel your wall with affliction
Though painful, remain silence for you’re under a divine construction

For the House when under construction was built of stone prepared at the quarry so that no hammer or chisel [noise] was heard in the temple while it was being built [1kings6:7]; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure [Phil 2:13]


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Sleepy Deadlines

For Santa...



So much goodwill and dedication
Hard work through the ages
Unnoticed sweat drop jubilations
Dusted most on gathered pages
Rocking chair of velvet comfort
Snowy beard with wishful cheer
Hearty smiles of flavored butter
Candy striped in scent sincere
Elves and reindeer all assisting
Snowstorm nights in huge demand
Graceful lights go out in blisters
Twinkled trails of stars and wand
Braving the cold around the globe
Soaring balloon and bundle of joy
Red and black to hide the old
Yet meekly essenced little boy
Melting in the youthful hopes
While filling up on expectations 
Golden slay bells, white trimmed coat  
Sharing the peace of spirit elation
Spread to those who stay awake
Attached to sleepless hands up North
To polish dreams for children’s sake
Relentlessly they venture forth
Down soot filled chimneys old and new
With aches in back that’s past its prime
And this you always manage to do
Before the running out of time  
But you’re rewarded now and then 
You find the X on treasured map
On countless roofs from way back when
Cradled to sleep on angel’s lap


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Pompano Fishing, part 1

Rudy, Captain B. and I planned a fishing trip
To try and catch Pompano using Rudy’s ship
We went Down the Mississippi and on out the mouth 
Into the Gulf of Mexico, then we headed south

The restaurants of New Orleans like to get this fish
A real delicacy when served upon a dish
We’d never fished for them before, they’re hard to catch
Using our fishing skills, we hoped to win the match

With a medium chop and the swells not too high
The boat moved slowly toward the rig’s downwind side
Close enough! Drop a rig hook on! Now back away
Till the 12 foot hook’s bungee cord comes into play

Now we’re all hooked on and the weather still looks OK
Gear’s all setup, baited and line out a good way
Excitement builds, anticipating what comes next?
Fishing like this you never knowing what to expect

Sometimes you’ll catch some sort of a nuisance type fish
Or a big one breaks your line; What was it?, you wish
But on this day we’re all rigged up for Pompano
But to this point the fishing for them been “no go” 

It was so quiet; I thought I’d give the guys a thrill
And pretend I’d hooked a fish, requiring some skill
I really put on a show, as I gave out a yell 
“There she goes,” I screamed, as I jerked the rod like hell

To my total surprise, when I jerked up the rod
A fish grabbed the bait and that seemed kind of odd
What stared out to be a fun joke; now was real
He was of good sized fish, I could tell from his feel

His first run was a long one; the rod in an arch
Nothing to do but hang on, while he made that march
As his runs got shorter, I knew he’d soon get tired
No need to rush, so played him until he retired

Eased him to the boat and into Captain B’s net
A big Pompano; a fish I’ll never forget
Now everyone’s excited at what’s yet to be
The guys had lots of questions, asking, “What’s the key?


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Whisper Of Your Soul

           Whisper Of Your Soul
       (Soul Listens On A Whisper)

Murmurs soft are sensed, mimic nature, diaphanous clouds spread wide
Settle softer than a translucent butterfly on spring light snow
It is the moon flirting in ebullience, fog rising on a thin film on winds side  
Lifting skirts or is it veils?  Unknown in this muted light of whispers glow
   
Mist rolls across the bog, pulls along reluctant virgin night
By golden glow, that holds the sky in humble hush, abeyance in a trance
Tracking down the birth of morning, bursting full of light 
Barely able to mutter the words, “the light of day”, the endless dance 


You feel the vibrant tones, fold over meadows as you go
A vestigial tiny vessel of a virgin’s secret opens here
Chasing dark away along the marsh with pounding heart to know
The open glen is near, fills up in brilliant colors clear

Soft luscious sounds fall silent on the morning air and then
Listen, it whispers on the minutia of the moment something true 
Holds on to quiet in the silent glen
Waiting on a whisper Imbued with truth, soft thoughts of you

Created on 12/16/14 for “Whisper Of Your Soul” Poetry Contest Sponsored by Gail Angel Doyle


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Me and My Cove Curled Phantom

We race through the night
Our minds intertwined
Brazen abandon
Our only design

We swoop through the air
Her fine feelers quiver
A shooting star flares
We gracefully whirl

My hands on her back
I feel her deep purr
Tingling my skin
And stirring her fur

I feel her thoughts
As she feels mine too
Full of mischief and warmth
As excitement breaks through

Encouraging each other
Temptation is bliss
Daring to continue
We dive through the mist

Skim over the lake
Fresh liquid so cold
Reflecting our grace
Wild and uncontrolled

The stars light our path
Like a million fireflies
Melting into eternity
As we glide through the skies


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The Artist

She faced the fury of an angry sea
Screaming to the wind “You’ll not get me!
For I’m no stranger to crushing waves,
and have no desire for a watery grave.

"So bring on your worst, I’ll meet it head on,
and still be standing, when you’ve moved on.
I’ll set up an easel and take up my brush;
I’ll paint till it’s finished in the post-storm hush.

"All those who view it will relive again
the force of the storm, and the thundering din.
I’ll treasure the memory as they pause to inspect;
I’ll count my blessings, as I rest and reflect."

                    


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My Honeysuckle moor

Honeysuckle is blooming does catch my eye                                                            Funny, trouble is I have never seen                                                                         Bunnies chuckle or cared how time flies                                                                    Sunny, cuddled all in green was everything                                                                       *                                                                                                                       Surprise is I never seen this before                                                                               arise curiosity I must find                                                                                       Uprises, trees of honeysuckle moor                                                                                  a prize to claim so I climb tree by vine                                                                 *                                                                                                                        Nesting a top this suckled strewn tree                                                                               Jesting to myself I’m in a crow’s nest                                                                          resting in moments of the wondrously                                                                     Testing imaginations that lie in the breast                                                            *                                                                                                                        Fortune finds place’s Express my garden                                                                           Horton hears a who hatching an egg                                                                               Horsemen unscrambling a heart hardened                                                                         Warden you’ll never find but I beg * --                                                                           A Lento poem


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I Earnestly Advice

From central part of whirling fast unsteady cloud,
I hear the sigh dissolve with many annihilated loud,
They want to swell certain promises truly bore,
Make earth anyhow sumptuous, inventive and charitable door.

It doesn't mean, what the world would give us,
Our dealing towards nation pride always be curious.
Forget not, took pines those providing this prosperity,
Inflamed torch link human hands aggressive honestly.

Must fade black force stunt diligent power stir mind.
And extend scope for wonder by questing regions blind.
Level debts upon soul, I earnestly advice,
Peg down the system limp just suggestive pattern choice.




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Shark Attack

When my kids were small for several years We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast Where sand was white and water clear And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast Bruce and Mary Ann always would join us there In those days, we had the beach to ourselves A week of fun without a single care Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves Just clear water from shore to the sand bar Then it turns a dark blue where it gets deep This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far Lying on air mattresses half asleep Some people on shore were strolling the beach We both heard them when they started to yell They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there! Scared us shitless, both started paddling like hell Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two While at best, I would stand five foot seven With those long arms of his, his mattress flew Way behind, I was praying to heaven Then worst of all thing, fell off the mattress Legs hanging down and floundering around I looked even more like shark bait, I guess Scared to death, then my feet hit the ground Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me He was mad and he said “we should kill them!” Take a look over there, was do you see The sharks were just porpoise taking a swim


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The Cape

He trusted in his instincts,
never did as he was told,
always knowing he would make it,
he was garrulous and bold.

He listened to the wind
and took direction from the stars,
he always knew that he could fly,
the question was, how high?

Trusting in the ragged cape
forever fastened to his back,
like Superman he saved the world
his courage never lacking.

People said he's foolish,
always acting like a kid,
he did not know he could not fly
and so one day he did.

He's one of those who knows that life
is just a leap of faith,
spread your arms and hold your breath
and always trust your cape.


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Appalachian Trail-first bear episode

The Appalachian Trail is quite a long path.
Not many can go the whole way.
For those not content to do the math
It’s five million strides, so they say.

Most hikers elect to go part of the way.
A distance which can be done rather fast.
They usually walk less than a day.
An unusual and do-able week end task.

Ball teams love it to get into shape.
Boy scouts earn badges that way.
Others just want to view the landscape,
In an “up close” and personal way.

I once took my scouts to hike the trail.
We seven averaged twelve miles each day.
Six days without TV, Radio, or Mail
Newfound Gap to Fontana ... a long way.

We walked along beautiful ridges and peaks.
The view was ten miles more or less.
We walked along bottoms and followed the creeks.
Lined with fern, willow, moss and water cress.

We walked along hog wallows... smelling rank.
And many clearings filled with wild flowers.
We trekked many a long rocky bank,
Which took minutes which seemed like hours.

The buildings provided, to shelter and protect,
Are crude beyond normal expectation.
Twelve bunks inside and fireplace...I suspect.
Less for cooking than warmth and ventilation. 

Three sides and a chain link fence with gate.
Ropes to tie shut and keep critters back.
All except the mice, chip monk and snake.
They were the real owners of the Adirondack.

At one such place we retired for the night.
Woken at midnight by shouts and lights aglow.
Men at the gate holding a young man upright.
He seemed bloody from head to toe.


The building full, yet no turning back.
They stumbled in along with ten more.		
Twenty-two piled into the small Adirondack
They covered the bunks and the floor.

Sixteen holes in the young man’s back.
I talked as I cleaned but he needed to vent.
He began to tell of the vicious attack,
While I painfully applied antiseptic ointment.

He was alone in his tent, eating a candy bar.
Suddenly, as the bear’s head loomed into sight,
He dove into his sleeping bag, not getting far.
The bear, ripping and biting, carried him into the night.

Some forty feet down a slope where he stopped,
He released the young man momentarily.
With all of his might, what was hanging down, he socked.
The bear, in total despair, ran but somewhat impairdly.

The young man ran back, meeting help on the way.
After that, it was as I already have said.
He was later airlifted, checked, and pronounced a-OK.
But the five hundred pound bear ended up dead


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bumper cars

that long lonesome highway
ain't so lonesome after all
there's many cars on the byway
and truckers on the long haul

driving one next to another
back and front and all about
dangers abound, some undiscovered
behind, before, all 'round, no doubt

you may think I'm a bit crass
but some folks ridin' these roads
really like to ride upon my ass
despite brake lights that I showed

they get right up to my derriere
and hang there as if we're close
but I try not to look too scared
'lest i tip my hand to overexpose

my fear they'll get in my backseat
to carry them to their destination
an unlikely, yet still possible feat
parked in mind's fertile creation

for miles we go close back to front
they seem to not want to go past
no hurry for them, while i bear the brunt
imagining they might jus' drive up en masse

© Goode Guy 2011-11-29


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Daydream

The words float through the air,
trying to find a home in my head,
sleep is calling without a care,
disappear do the words the teacher said.

Soon my classroom is no longer there,
replaced by the wildest thoughts in my head,
replaced by the actions I never would dare,
disappear do the words the teacher said.

The gentle breeze of the ocean blue,
drowns the other thoughts in my head,
nothing I would rather do,
disappear do the words the teacher said.


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KITE FLIGHT

KITE      FLIGHT


Kite flying over the river
Lofty floating yellow girl
With fluttering sail a-quiver
And her tail in a fleeting  swirl


Her paper lungs with air she’d inflate
And flitter  near the clouds with ease
Sometimes flirty, and rising taut
Then flying flat, riding the steady breeze


Flattering it with her beauty flaunted 
Seeming to flit in and out of the sunlight 
She flouted the ground, scorned it, taunted -
Oh,  it was a glorious flight !

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

Entered in   Gwendolen Rix's  Contest   Lets Go Fly A Kite !

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . .
Without any doubt or hesitation, I am pleased to say that  
the most helpful and influential poet on the Soup  for me   
has been, and continues to be,  Debbie Guzzi...Thanks again Debs !


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Big Nickel Jail

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada


It's said by some
that the Big Nickel Mine
ran a jail for years
when there wasn't a fine.

There were hundreds of kids
whom their parents locked up
while they took their pictures
with an old tin cup.

Though they rattled the bars
and some did pout.
After just a few minutes
the parents let them out.


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Pompano Fishing, part 2

I didn’t tell them, it had started as a joke
When I caught two more that’s when they started to croak
They checked my rig to make sure that theirs was the same
Took my spot in boat, still I heard them complain

Then I caught another one from a different spot
They got hot under the collar and fishing stopped
“You got to tell us exactly, what’s the technique?”
“What are you doing that’s different, that what we seek?”

I caught that first one when I gave the rod a yank
They grab when you jerk, but my answer was a prank 
"Close attention to your rod; get my answer right"
"The way to catch Pompano is: jerk before they bite!”

They thought about my answer; then they just got mad
Hell, you can’t jerk before they bite, that doesn’t add
I kept a grin off my face saying, “give me your rod”
Threw in where no fish had been caught, then gave a nod

I was pushing my luck, but had to give a try
Now you guys gently hold the line, I’ll tell you why
You won’t feel any bite before I set the hook
They thought I was crazy, I could tell by their look

I waited for a while, then gave the rod a yank
A Pompano grabbed the bait; it was time to crank
I gave the rod to Rudy; he got to catch the fish
Then got one for Captain B, so he got his wish

With the four I caught, we now had six in the boat
With the wind picking up; head back home was the vote
I finally told those guys just what happened that day
“Jerk before they bite” they now agree is the way



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FREE CEE breakfast NOT at Tiffanys

         BREAKFAST NOT AT TIFFANY’S

I remember eating breakfast in the corner luncheonette
Two eggs over easy with a side of toast
Danny ordered a cheese and egg white omelet
While I read the Times and was totally engrossed

The sun hadn’t risen yet as the red neon shone
Suddenly our waiter dropped a plate on the floor
Danny and I both heard the clumsy server moan
And then a good looking lady walked through the door

She donned a halter top and our eyes didn’t falter
Danny and I stared with amorous thoughts in our head
Just then she greeted her boyfriend named Walter
And there went our thoughts of getting her in bed

Walter was six-feet-three and two hundred pounds
A man neither Danny nor I cared to rile
A waitress emptied some stale coffee grounds
Some of which fell on the floor of ceramic tile

An old gray haired lady ate some kind of slop
I couldn’t identify the food with specificity
While Danny and I ate the waiter grabbed a mop
And Danny told me about a hot chick named Felicity

Our conversation flowed from Felicity to friends and foes
Then I ordered one more piece of toast and an egg
Just then Walter and his girlfriend arose
And that’s when I noticed a gun strapped to Walter’s leg

It seemed that Walter didn’t plan on paying the check
And so he stuck his gun in the owner’s flustered face
He then grabbed the pretty waitress by the neck
When suddenly the owner sprayed Walter with mace

While all this went on Danny went for the register’s cash
A move which truly had astounded me
Both of us ran out and made a maniacally mad dash
And that’s how two junkies got a lot of dope in essence for free
     © 2012…PHREEPOETREE..free cee!






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GOOD OLD ABE, SOLUMN SOL AND YOU TOO

           GOOD OLD ABE, SOLUMN SOL AND YOU TOO

If there were an entrance fee to get into Heaven how much would you pay?
And let me tell you brother,  it won’t help you now to pray
So you get to Heaven with 56,000 bucks and St. Peter looks at you in scorn
“Sorry sir, but The minimum cover charge here is the life of your first born”

If there were something difficult to do to become Heaven bound?
And you must decide soon before you’re fodder for the ground
Would you sneak up on an old lady and strike her about the head?
Now keep in mind, this is the deal when destiny deems you dead

If the only way you could get into Heaven meant your pretty daughter’s death
Would you cast away your daughter’s life and give a stranger her breath?
What if the cost of Heaven turned out to be the life of your younger brother,
And after your brother bleeds out you must then slay thy mother?

God tempted Abraham on a mount with his son’s death in his hand
And Solomon, when he said he’d split the babe in half, no one could understand
So my brother, to Hell is where you are bound lest thee come up with an answer
“Yo Saint Pete, how about we get rid of the boss by gibing God colon cancer”
      © 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
 


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ANOTHER DIVINE CREATION

My beautiful body is another divine creation,
every part, so perfect, is guided by this wisest, most sinless heart,
which will not make it err when temptation
tries to weaken it by making it remember the bitterness of regrets. 


Nudity imparts its own beauty when it is considered a temple governed by purity;
nonetheless, it came from God's thoughts and artful hands;
so why should we be ashamed of it, if it is shown accordingly?
Many have exploited it for monetary gains and this is the plague of our society!   


My image is gladly seen in the clearest mirror,
inducing awareness, amazement and gratefulness,
never thinking of defiling it with unworthy offers;
even Satan is plotting against me and waving war!


Immoral persons won't hesitates to show their lewd interest,
thus taking advantage of someone needing the desperate break;  
these people corrupt any soul to rob it of dignity by their kind amenity... 
where's your sense of keenness, when it comes to view your sexuality? 
  

My beautiful body is another divine creation,
wonderfully and perfectly made to use it adequately;
glances of admiration by others may be full of inequity,
and adulating words will not flatter me, knowing their deception. 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci



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Adventures of Love

Take me to the ends of love, In your chariot of skin. Embrace my heart with caring hands, As we ride love’s trail again. My conscious is inebriated, From your intoxicating kiss. Our thoughts make endless love, Within a mental abyss. Hold on tight and don’t let go, As sweet passion ensues. Grasp the pleasure, the end is near, In the adventures of me and you.


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Heaven And Hell

A ship avast
A mighty mast
With demon 'board
I take to task

A fork divides
The way ahead
I must decide
The course instead

The way to turn
Is up to me
This must affect
My destiny

The one will take me
Only good
And light shine on
Just as it should

The other dark
As it can be
A way does make
The death of me

But lead me on
The Devil's sin
To prod me to
And dark to win

But whoa I chose
The brighter path
And steer the ship
And take the mast

I lead myself
On course to light
Where demons fear
And take to flight


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A BUTTERFLY SHOULD NEVER DIE

      A BUTTERFLY SHOULD NEVER DIE

I am without anything now that I’m not with you
And Lord knows I miss the taste of your smile
I miss a perfectly designed dream come true
Because you made mounting a mountain seem a mild mile

You gave me butterflies and lightning bugs as a gracious gift
Because of you the morning wasn’t agony anymore
It didn’t matter if I worked in the day or the midnight shift
When I returned you would be there with a smile at our door

Ain’t nobody’s business how deeply we loved one another
But they could tell in our eyes and the way we held hands
Ain’t nobody’s business how I loved you, not even my brother
While I kissed you under the elm tree in the peaceful place it now stands

When you used to approach me it would make my heart race
Now that I’m without you I want to know exactly why
And it’s difficult when I need to forget your emphatic embrace
So now you know from whence comes my woeful wish to die
          © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~



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A Fairy Tale

 Looking like a tiny  princess
Her dress the palest blue
Gold dust falling round her
A happy giggle as  she flew

She laughed and then went flitting
Around the garden park
Resting on a toadstool
Listening to the golden lark

Her feet in rosy satin slippers
With shiny buckles too
I knew I must be dreaming
When she sipped the morning dew

All to soon the picture faded
As I heard a voice so  sweet
"Up my dear; its time for school"
Alas, my fairy dream complete............



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First Quail Hunt

When I turned twelve, Dad bought me a shot gun Thought two sons hunting with him, would be fun My brother also got his at that age They were Remington Wingmaster, 12 gauge Dad had two Pointer bird dogs, both well-trained This is a breed born to hunt, it’s ingrained The dogs had been named Old Red and Clover Clover ranged close but Red was a rover Dad’s bird hunt of choice, was always Bob Whites As these quail don’t run before they take flight Other types of quail, like the West Texas Blues Run before they flush, that’s dog hunt bad news I’d walked on hunts, but never with a gun Then dad said “Boys you’re hunting on this one” We both knew gun safety and how to shoot Clay pigeons move out, but quail really scoot “Get the butt tight to your shoulder”, said Dad The gun kicked hard, so the stock had a pad Still before I learned, my shoulder was blue It didn’t take long to know what to do We left for the hunt, the sky was still black Went in the old pickup with dogs in back Just getting light when we got to the field Gave the dogs a short run, then made them heel We started to walk, but stayed fairly tight Dad was in the middle and Big “J” on the right Clover was working but stayed right in front Old Red was way out ranging wide to hunt We could see Red when he went on a point When Clover saw him, she froze every joint Old Red on a point is a sight to see Clover backing the point’s a thrill to me We walked toward the covey very slow Clover stayed, just in front, she’d freeze then go Old Red would only move a foot or two and freeze Dad talked soft, wanting to keep Red at ease Both dogs looked tense and about to explode Like a beam in stress from an over load When the birds all flushed with that sudden roar Big “J” shot one and Dad dropped down two more I never raised my gun, so had egg on my face Spellbound by the dogs, I couldn’t keep pace They both had a good laugh at my expense It’s my first time out, I said in defense The dogs retrieved the bird as they were trained Then the hunt ended as down came the rain On the way home I yelled, “I’m the winner!” I don’t have to clean a shot gun before dinner


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The Frontier


Sitting around the evening campfire
Talking of home and girls and cattle
Eating beans and beef and always dust
Tomorrow's river crossing another battle.

I doubt those tired boys had any idea
The part they were playing just then
That history would tell the story
Of the cattle, the plains and the men.

Of legends and heroes and horses
The bad guys and leather and guns 
Buffaloes, Indians and cow-towns
Of the West, and how it was won.


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FIERY SKYSCRAPERS

FIERY    SKYSCRAPERS


City is dull as a fired gun
When the sun goes down
Lights not yet  lit, buildings dun :
Sunset’s last gleaming on the town.

Reflection from  buildings follows
The lowering  flaming sun.  Glaring,
He makes gilded castles, mirrors windows
With orange-yellow fiery flaring.

Armor-plated against the forces of darkness
These Gideon-polished glass shields  *
Inflict  sun-reflect on  an enemy helpless.
A golden weapon he wields.

Standing proud above they seem
Fearless of  the  dark, signaling to me  -
As the Shining Towers of Illium gleamed *
When Helen first spied  them from the sea.
…………………………………………………………………………………….

NOTES

At sunset the windows of many skyscrapers are dazzling in the reflected sunlight, often turning the entire building to shimmering gold.

*   Illium = Troy. Helen was the woman ultimately responsible for the destruction of Troy.

*   Gideon  was a famous leader of the Israelites  in  Biblical times, winning a battle by polishing his soldiers’ shields and blinding his foes with reflected sunlight.




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Dreamscape

It wasn’t till sleep's midnight
that I heard the down-pouring 
of day fade-away, only
to give-in to a gospel of rain.

Struggling to re-live folk tales, 
mortal owl and pot of porridge.
“If you can see what fills you up,
you can drink from Nature’s cup.”

Looking over the edge of earth,
listening to the waterfalls.
Watching the lost ships fall-off
and asking if I should give-in.

And there, just outside of Spring,
two pink rose buds opening.
As a slivered moon sings,” Winter
has not turned-over His reign.”





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Caught Catching Steelheads - Part 1 of 2

We spent Christmas in Camas, Washington With Aunt Lil and Uncle Carl on this run Carl owned the town’s only sporting goods store He knew local fishing; where to catch more Carl said, “Steelhead fishing is very hot” “I can rig you up; you might catch a lot” A Steelhead punch card cost so much to buy I said to Carl, “I think I’ll pass it by” Carl said, Steelhead are ocean going trout It’s Rainbow specie with lots of clout They’re born in the river; then go to sea Return back home grown; they spawn and then flee A long island lies in the Washougal Using a life raft to get there was frugal Its eighty rods before the rivers meet Paddling a boat there was no small feat With boat secure, Carl and son went fishing I only watched, from where I was sitting Saw action on shore; a guy had one on Which he played for a while, then it was gone I saw Carl when he hook one of good size The way he played the fish, was quite wise I felt the old fish bumps starting to rise When the fish broke water, I was surprised Those fish are big and their fight would be fun I knew right away, I’d have to catch one Carl landed his fish, it weighed seven pounds Got out his punch card and punched out one round I said, “I’ll fish if your offer’s still good” “We can rig you up; I knew that you would” “But you need a license before you fish” “I’ll open the store, if that’s what you wish” “Nope, I think I’ll just fish without any” Carl said, “Not wise, that could cost you plenty” “Carl, it expires by the end of the week” “Get a four day one; that works for you neat” Next day I was on the island early Fishing hard but my bait acted squirrelly Had to add some weight, so it would hit ground Then threw it up stream and let it drift down “Oh My Gosh!, I’m snagged!” I said with a frown I bet I hooked to a log on the ground I was wrong cause that log started moving Yelled, “Fish on!,” my attitude improving That fish was stripping the line from my reel He could turn sideways and rest standing still He used the current to his advantage When he made a run, I couldn’t manage Carl walked over to check on the action “Carl, he’s too big to get any traction” “And there isn’t much line left on the reel” “If he was up current it'd be ideal” (Part 1 of 2)


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Wine, Women, and Song

Wine, women and song-
delirious impressions
both over- and understated.
Nonsense to the uninitiated.

This is how my daydream began:
gyrating  on stage with long hair
like and adolescent shaman-
visions of a young Jim Morrison.

Wine, women and song-
punk, funk, southern boogie drunk
battle ax guitars, pounding drums
blacken and brutal beer soaked bars.

This is the dream come true:
an insidious reality
that suddenly struck rude.
Nonsense to the uninitiated. 

Now, it is still the wine
women and song that I long for. 
Indelible impressions
both over-and understated. 


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ON THE CLIFFS

ON THE CLIFFS

Flung over the  rim of the earth’s blue,
In far distant cliff-lands,
Cling  wild flowers of occult hue  
Never plucked by human hands  -

Each perfumed in bouquets exotic
Which pervade  the breeze
With mystery hypnotic   -
Each  understood only by the bees.

Pick these blooms if you will
But if you touch even one
Their hues and perfumes will spill :
Their magic mystery will be gone.


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Sea Wolves


Galleons, uncharted oceans,
honest merchantmen take heed,
hijacked by the vile and shameless,
paradigms of pirate greed.

Storied legends blaze through ages,
rape and pillage mark the sway 
of buccaneers hell bent on mayhem,
cannons blast in fierce array.

Without compassion for a compass,
murderously resolute,
they take no prisoners, show no mercy,
sack the sea lanes, dissolute.


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Whats in the Box

While working in Seattle for Boeing Had duty in Florida for six weeks Just before it was time to be going Drove from town to town looking at antiques In St. Augustine, day before my flight I was sightseeing the old city’s charm The alligator show was quite a sight Bought a gator, right off the farm In Florida when I boarded the plane Although winter, the temperature was warm A Chicago plane change, was not the same In fact, had to land in a winter storm The alligator was in a shoe box And I carried it with me on the plane The temp in Chicago was such a shock Scratching loud and fast; must have been in pain He warmed up during the layover time Then it came time to board another plane People stared while in the plane’s boarding line Because the loud scratching noise was the same When I sat down, the guy next to me said: “What in the hell do you have in that box?” An alligator that wants to be feed! “Sure you do! But don’t feed me to the crock” “You don’t believe there’s a Gator in there?” “Of course not! I just think you’re full of bull” “OK, stick in your finger if you dare But when he grabs it, you better not pull” “Tell you what, if you’ll buy me a drink I’ll take box lid off so you can see” We’ve got us a deal, he said with a wink I’ll be right back but, first I got to pee He returned, bought my drink, set down and said Now get out your box and take off the lid Then the gator jumped out, bit me and fled And shit, we couldn’t see where he hid He was in the center isle on the move When I grabbed him, I got bit one more time If the stewardess saw him, I’d be removed And I’d probably be charged with a crime So back in my seat, with a bleeding hand And with the gator secure and confined The guy next to me said, “That act was grand, So what’s next”, as he made his seat recline We had a good laugh, I wrapped up my hand And from then on we took turns buying drinks We didn’t stop, we got totally canned “What happens now with the gator you think?” “This trip, he stays in his box! Believe me! There will never be another capture, As a house pet he will roam free, in the Bellevue Home For Beer Drinking Bachelors”


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DEaD OF THE FAMILY

Top of Form 1
?????DEAD OF THE FAMILY
I don’t know very much at all
I know red means stop and green means go
I don’t live in the deep south yet I have a southern drawl
And I also know the things that I don’t know

At first it was difficult admitting that fact
To tell people that I’m not so wise
Then I’d explain all the things which I have lacked
Such as a traditional upbringing which is no surprise

Perhaps it’s the fact that everyone in the family has bruises
Yet no one goes to the emergency clinic for aid
And in this family there are no winners nor fu**ing losers
Everyone beats every one just for a minuscule mess he may have made

Two ostensibly ordinary people are bringing their kids up with military rules
There was a lawyer down the street but we could never nerve up and go
We may be mistreated, mishandled but we’re no damn fools 
And as I said, the only thing I know is that which I  don’t know
©   (2011)….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~ 








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Total White Out

Driving South Dakota in December Means you’re a “Stupid Club” member I’d never even heard of a “White Out” That’s what this story’s all about Cruising along and relaxed as can be My three daughters, my wife and me You could see for miles, the land was so flat Heard truckers do a CB chat Heard one of them say “It’s blowing ahead” But couldn’t quite hear all they said But in twenty miles I knew what he meant Cause into a snow storm we went We found ourselves in a total “White Out” It was a “Ground Blizzard”, no doubt Strong winds blowing horizontal to land Should we go on, or take a stand I thought we’d drive right through it pretty quick It’s so cold the snow didn’t stick The problem was, powdery snow’s so light When the wind whips up, it takes flight It only got worse as we went along The car swaying, the wind so strong I could just barely see the center line We all watched for an exit sign At this point, I knew things were getting bad Afraid to stop or go ahead From the car’s rear window, kids watched the stripe Could see through the rear window wipe They'd yell if I strayed from the center line And that happen several times The next thing I know, my CB squaws out “You’re going off right!” it did shout An eighteen wheeler was right behind me His cab so high that he could see The “White Out” went up higher than the car At trucker’s height, he could see far He guided us down the road for a while Said an off ramp is just a mile You should just stay there, till the wind gets low I’m passing on your left, go slow! We thanked him for all the help that he gave He went by, gave a toot and wave We found the ramp and got to a café Sat down and bowed our heads to pray We knew we had much to be thankful for Safely through this and one before A fishtail and spin on the mountain pass This winter driving is my last


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A BOY'S PERFECT BODY

Before I had a boy's perfect body,
the sharpest mind and a spirit full of energy;
even strangers complimented me
on my selflessness, asking God to bless me! 


Had I known then that youth wasn't eternal, unlikely the indelible seasons
that renew themselves accordingly, I would have had
a different view of how it should have been lived...
with a more purposeful insight, which allowed no time for regrets! 


And that boy's perfect body, carved by loveliness , 
could be seen in photographs belonging to another century;
thick hair and a smooth face defined a neat appearance...
to make plenty of girls stare at me desirously! 


O young years, why didn't you warn me of your hastiness?
I could have made the effort to slow you down,
and enjoyed you more without ever wasting time in idleness!
Beautiful and care-free days, how can I posses youth again?


I am still kind of handsome, much older now,
and ladies adore my good looks, once flashing a sweet image   
in those attractive and radiant smiles of long time ago,
not worried about any wrinkle revealing their true age! 
  
 
Before I had a boy's perfect body...
magnificently sculptured like Michelangelo's David;
my adolescence began with my physical beauty,
and ended with that ravishing vanity tossed aside!    


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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string-along theory

you may not be able to easily relate
what happens to me from time-to-time
a tale quite hard to assimilate
especially if you're so disinclined

I examine my cell phone for incoming 
checking my wait, in vibrate mode
yet I perceive a sensation stunning
my waist vibrates without cell load

I'd swear on a stack of dollar bills
or better yet my Daddy's holy books
my phone vibrated of its own free will
since I'm not carrying, I must'a mistook

what oscillates around my middle
that gets my attention to titillate
the empty space at my belt, a riddle
invisible phone vibrates to stimulate

maybe the physicists are onto something
in regards to sub-atomic energy matters
and have string-along theories forthcoming
as vibrant phantom waisted feelings scatter

© Goode Guy 2011-11-28

I know this never happened to anyone else...yet...


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DEPARTURE


Just for a while, a candle glows;
Each of us here for a short spell;
Through tears and smiles, each act now flows
To etch fond spheres in show and tell.


We journey here to light a spark;
Each tale said brief, then closure comes;
Each step makes clear an exit mark;
Accept that grief must square end sums.


Dark is the night when lights go out;
Let faith bring peace when hope seems lost;
There is a light that bears harsh bout;
Let love increase despite the costs.


Know for certain that life goes on;
Each soul finds rest in unknown shores;
A cloud curtain hides what's beyond;
Let ended quest bring peace and more.


Our fallen dead feel hurts no more;
Let silent sleep caress dear soul;
Let go of dread as soul finds door;
Yes we will weep for fractured whole.


We bid farewell to this dear soul;
We pray that grace will guide the way;
Our thoughts now dwell on grief that holds
Our kindred space in mourning days.


A broken heart will heal in time;
We sojourn here with kin and kind;
As end imparts a loss of chime,
Love we endear helps heal the mind.


Death is a twin that walks with life;
Know then that bliss waits beyond earth;
By grace we win in spite of strife;
Soul anchors this fact of re-birth.


Pain floods our loss as death kills norm;
Our loving lives beyond the grave;
Our earthly dross with decay forms;
Peace now relieves as heaven saves.


Be of good cheer despite the tears;
We'll meet again on better shores;
Let hurts draw near to crush all fears;
The dead lie slain to live once more.


Each soul will rise like the Phoenix;
Weep tears of joy for soul yet lives;
Death's but disguise for splendour's fix:
Life veils a ploy to truly give.


Leon Enriquez
27 June 2014
Singapore


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WRECKS

WRECKS


Battered  funnel,  broken hawsers, holes in deck,
Grounded  on concrete platform  like an old man sitting on bench, 
Portholes all broken, shaft and screw missing :  a  wreck ,
Her story told by old charts, scattered, water-drenched. 


Battered hat, torn trousers,  holes in shoes,
Old man on a bench, like a ship in dry dock, rust splattered,
Eyeglasses cracked.   Some say he has a screw loose :
Tell you stories about the old days when he mattered.


With cargoes varied, they  traveled  the world, 
Saw exotic island sunsets in Straits of Malacca,
Braved storms in the Bering Sea  - ice cold, 
And endured war  sagas at the siege of Malta.


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M'Ladies' Favors

With heart divided between old and new both loves so dear and warm and true; 'Cross continents covered with morning dew, so fleet I ran to be with you. Cloth marked, banner blazoned, dearly tried; on I ran to be by your side. Storm gathered, tide washed, a dear heart so true, still on ran I, till I found you. To your widespread arms and warm auburn eyes, your red full lips and limb filled sighs; Onward I wandered thus dreaming of you, to touch your hand and kiss your eyes, Her blason banner so stiff, bright and new, hung on my right for all to view. You saw her colors favor by my side. Your tears welled, coals banked, heart torn pride. You held a silken scarf in your wee hand, turquoise token, woven with golden strand. Your gaze so crestfallen slowly wavers, Yet, reaching forth I accept your favor. Placing your keepsake upon my left side, to be my shield, to be my guide; silken, soft symbol of my hearts delight, to the battle I march on that dark night. And, as the clash of weapons loud, Immersed the days dawn in horrific sounds, Of mortal pain, and death's story; So fervent fought I to return to two. Blessed by M'Ladies' Glory.


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BOWLING

The ball has three holes
And it is round
When it rolls down the lane
It makes a strange sound
Don't go too fast
But don't go too slow
Don't stand straight up
You need to get low
Keep your body going
At an easy pace
And put that ball
Right into place
Look at your spot
And find your mark
You know it's harder
To bowl in the dark
Once you know
How to keep score
The time goes fast
And you want to bowl more
So take a hint
From a good bowling fan
You'll like the game
If you're a girl or a man


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The Prince and The Maiden

Midday sun drips brilliant fingers
Down upon the Enchanted Land
Blue birds sing upon their towers
Where mighty oaks eternal, stand

Rippling water, unblemished, blue
Cascades a misty, splendid, spray
Gods creatures all found harmony
Within this land, they safely stay

A maiden lolls upon the meadow
With contemplation on face of fair
Whiskey eyes of forlorn and lonesome
Long and shining, auburn hair

Quietly, she subjects a glance
At the beauty that surrounds
Picking petals from a flower
When the stillness is disturbed by sound

Hooves of a steed come pounding
Through this fair forest green
Atop a hillside comes the prince
The handsomest she'd ever seen

"I bid hello, Oh maiden fair"
He swept a solemn bow
An infectious grin adorned his face
Jet black hair and noble brow

Breezes blew upon their faces
As the wind became a song
Blushing shyly, her eyes drank in
This man of whom she'd dreamt so long

"Dance with me" he then does plead
As he grasps her lovely hands
Wind was chiming breezily
Across the Enchanted Land

Whiskey eyes looked up to see
Inside where soul resides
Upon that handsome countenance
The brightest, bluest eyes

"Ride off with me" his words echo
Through her gentle, joyous heart
"live with me, and be my bride"
"let us never have to part"

Upon the blackest stallion
They raced off hand in hand
Through the blooming meadow
Of this Enchanted Land

A buzzing sound awakened me
Rubbing sleep from upon my eyes
Hitting snooze to quiet it
It's then I realize

The Enchanted Land was just a dream
Reality, a sweet surprise
For, lying there was my sweet prince
With jet black hair and azure eyes

The buzzing had shaken him
From his once peaceful slumber
Thank heaven that I dialed the phone
When he handed me his number!


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Caught Catching Steelheads - Part 2 of 2

Carl brought the boat and then he took action Until all line was back but a fraction With the boat on shore and the fish upstream Carl said, “You’ve got him now, time to get mean!” I was in control and wore that fish out Got him into Carl’s net and then let out a shout “I got that Bugger, just look at his size!” Carl said, “Punch your card “now”, that would be wise” “I’ll do that in a while, but not just yet” “I need a break and smoke a cigarette” By now, people were there, where we landed And one of them spoke to me, so candid “Give your punch card to me, I need to see” “Is it all legit as it seems to be?” It’s the Game Warden, who wanted my card Got it out quickly and he punched it hard Gosh, I so was glad I took Carl’s advise Without that license things would not be nice The fish was a native, sixteen and a half pounds That made the sports news around Puget Sound To be able to fish, I’d called in sick Boss saw my picture; knew it was a trick Called me to his office; what could I say? I’m sorry Boss, but I just had to stay!


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TOO INCONSIDERATE, TOO SELFISH

I trashed many deserving and precious loves in bloom
down my favorite path, where lovely lilacs grew;
I took everything they offered me with an eager hand,
but heartlessly buried thier worth underneath the cold sand... 



How did I become too inconsiderate, too selfish...
by showing no regard for their genuine feelings?
They loved me as if I was the only man alive having only one constant wish:
to spoil me with kisses and keeping me warm in their passionate embraces! 



I constantly bite my hyprocritical lips, thinking of what I have done,
and guilt pounds steadly inside to rebuke my unkind deeds;
they wanted friendship more than gifts and fun...
they are strangers now, ignoring my greetings!



Intentional or not, I pursued pleasure instead of amability,
taking advantage of their vulrerability, leaving their sincere hearts empty;
doesn't an impish child get what he wants with his annoying cries?
That was me, so insensible and unfair, stealing trust and affection to satisfy my urges...   



How did awareness reduce me to this state of misery?
They caught up with my clever lies and shut the door into my face,
reminding me that all good friends are hurt by dishonesty;
and now how can I win back their trust and not be affected by old malice?  



How did I become too inconsiderate, too selfish so driven by duality? 
I put me first, leaving their intense desires behind;
they deserved to be understood and be truly loved,
without an indication of doubt from someone too impervious to their plea... 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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SHE KNEW SHE WAS NEW TO ME

     
      SHE KNEW SHE WAS NEW TO ME
There are too few people who get me
The ones that know what I am and what I do
Some of them understand and let me
And one of them was you

There are certain people who are aware
They know where I’m headed and set for what course
There are certain people who were just born to care
And they’re concern isn’t born of force

No, these are the people who see what I am and don’t mind
The ones who worry but somehow know I’ll make it through
People created by this universe simply to be kind
And too oft I don’t know why they do what they  do

Perhaps it’s the smile I wish was inside my frown
Or the happiness I’ll probably never see in a world of pain
Someone who lifts me up when I  fall down
A humanitarian who protects me from a torrential rain

Some people see in my eyes that I ain’t all that wise
Yet they put up with the things my body tells me to do
Certain individuals who I consider an unexpected prize
AND ONE OF THEM  WAS CERTAINLY YOU!
        Phreepoetree   ~free cee!~


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DIVE SEASON

It's coming soon
That time of year
For diving deep
And seeing clear
For finding things
You might have lost
From having fun 
At your instructor's cost
It's time again 
for that first Sunday noon
And being sunburned
In the early June
Then trying to find
Some large mouth bass
While taking pictures of
My friend's bare ass
You find your dive buddy
Gasping for air
From laughing so hard
Because you're not there
You want so much
To be on that boat
If only you knew
It would stay afloat
So, if you'd like
To come along
I'm sure with us
We'll make you belong
Come on and bring
Your diving gear
And stay with us
The entire year


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MY FINAL REQUEST

If I were to do
What I have dreamed of most
I'd pack up my gear
And head for the coast
To see an ocean
Is my only request
Where I could lay on the beach
And be peaceful and rest
Seeing the water
Just by looking straight down
Watching the fish move
Without making a sound
Music is heard
From miles away
But under the water
I would rather stay
I'd stay forever
If it were my choice
No one could hurt me
Not even with their voice
If my wishes were granted
My final request
Would be to dive in an ocean
On a sea worthy quest


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DIVING IN APRIL

Diving in April
It's sure to please
If you're like me
You're about to freeze
Diving in April
be sure to bring some towels
For those long boat rides
And the wind that howls
Dicing in April
Don't forget your hood
For if you do
It will not feel so good
Diving in April
The hot tub at its best
Just make sure
You include your favorite guest
Diving in April
You'll need a few to go
Because it's cold down there
When it's 48 below
Diving in April
and meeting new friends
Knowing for the season
You'll know them to the end
Diving in April
Starting a new year
Keep diving with us
No matter what you hear


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Pirate's Song (re-post)

Torrid seas cast the pirate ship like a toy
As the captain held the mizenmast strong
Men worked hard to bring calm to the vessel
With prayers to their rum that it wouldn’t last long

While one lone pirate with hopes for the bounty
Had eyes on the chest and his hands on the sail
If the ship were to suffer weathered defeat, he thought
That he’d get the prize, that he would prevail

At that moment, a crack of lightning it suffered
The crows nest came down very hard and so fast
Six men had been taken out in one fallen move
As he now then is suffering with pain that will last

For a line then severed, his two legs from under
As he lay there screaming to God from the stern
He just wanted riches and somewhere to spend it
But now there is nothing except then this burn

As his eyes then closed, he thought to himself
His life wasn’t great, but all it could be
He then started humming as words faded fast
“Yes, oh yes, it’s a pirate’s life for me…”


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Ode to Astronauts

Astronauts - out to space
To extend the human race!
Look for planets and stars galore
The life will never be a bore!


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WONDERING WHERE LOVE WENT

I relayed on trust
more than affection;
watching every move,
instead of watching the flowers slowly bloom.


Wondering where love went,
chasing after the illusion
of bringing it back where it was;
and realizing the impossibility, I'm so saddened.


You wanted more than understanding,
warm hands to hold and the fire of desire...
to let you ride on your fantasy star;
and I regret all that I didn't give you with real feeling.


Wondering where love went,
and what is the lesson that 
life has taught me? Never wait
for others, just trust your instinct and shun every doubt.


Wondering where love went,
seeing happy lovers, engaging in romance,
who they have found their paradise; 
I was looking for mine in someone whom I didn't love enough...



Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Who are you?

Light years away, cross the void of space

From beyond the heavens, from a distant star.

You've technology that would dazzle

We wonder who you are.

Since the dawn of time, we've recorded your visits

You've walked among us and you've watched us from afar.

We've seen you streak cross our skies

We wonder who you are.

If harm you've meant us, by now we'd surely know

To you, were creatures to be studied, like specimens in a jar.

To some, your figments of our imagination, and still

We wonder who you are.

Our darkened skies are filled, with the beauty of your light

Your home is a distant planet, someplace we call a star.

Until such time as you think we're ready 

We wonder who you are.

The question has been asked, are we alone

The answer comes in streaks of light from afar

We couldn't possibly be the only planet with life

We wonder who you are.




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SPIRITS AT THEIR DOORSTEPS

Chilly October has quickly brought in
another spirited, indelible Holloween;
allowing our witty and insane minds 
to plan the craziest, wildest things.


Witches, wizards, goblins and ghosts
all join in to give a bone-chilling night;
I put on a custom so dazzlingly white,
to scare anyone who laughs and boasts.


This ghost is never spoken of in any tale,
unknown by name, leaving no easy trail;
the only thing he does well is making sneers,
and send everyone scrambling with screams.


How frightened and pale these kids must really be,
when they cuddle up in their beds and can't sleep,
thinking of those spirits at their doorsteps;
lots of fun and delight at their expense...         


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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DEVASTED BY THE DEATH OF THEIR YOUNGEST

All parents are devastated
by the death of their youngest;
did strange behavior or premonition
pique their curiosity at all?



They got out of hand at the neighbor's party too wild and intense,
and without supervision, they binged and laughed hysterically;
blasting music, making obscene gestures, dancing madly and cursing loudly,
and they felt too powerful with those drinks in their irresponsible hands!   



Actions aren't justified when they are premeditated so perfectly,
killers make plans to murder someone, then claim insanity;
kids tell their parent lies to do things that are harmful and shameful,
down the road across Lisa's house, four kids barely seventeen drove into a light pole!



Their blood is still there, and thousands of flowers can't cover those stains,
unconsolable mothers kneel by their angels' beautiful pictures;
friends sob and hold back their tears, fearing they would be next!
Why trust kids fully, when a cautious word can definetly put some sense into them?



All parents are devastated by the death and tormented by the demise of their youngest:
when agony rips apart their wailing chest for not having done enough;
and to carry that guilt inside is a costly price: to have seen a young life wasted and lost!
Let's learn from these tragedies, and do more to prevent more fatalities!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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A Woman's Voice

            A Woman’s Voice

Enter the universe after the billions of eons
Girls grow from it on a song  
Evolve with perfect sound and pitch into a woman
Their voice is everything the universe is not

Men adore the cosmic storm and war
But prefer the soft sensuous sounds
The perfect cure
Of a woman’s whispers in their ear   

Music resonates from their lovely lips
Made in a mystery on the mist
A woman’s voice is softer than an ocean bed
Calms the fever born in nature

Tragic life is darker in the silence                            
Love and whispers fill in with sound                
Warm kisses with the softest touch
Speak volumes when it's found
                                                                                               
A woman’s voice fills in all holes                         
Lifts their song along the wind and void
Launched in laughter light escapes
Enters the soul and sooths 

When women cry, babies are born
Both sing and feel the sound of warmth
Cuddle up beside the cozy fireplace
Mom reads stories in her gentlest intonations
   
Eons take us back to the creation                                                            
Melodies formed from that deep womb
A women’s voice is magic
Listen… It sounds like this
 


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Oh What a Night

Shepherds traveled, their only  map a star.
The Angels gave a concert from above.
Wise Men came bearing gifts, to the Christ Child.
God's gift to mankind. Born in a manger, sweet gift of Love.


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Dust

I tumbled down a desert road
The wind dusting my flaccid face
Asking the parched pavement
Where I could find another race 

My body was worn by life
Fading beneath an amber sky
Holding onto a jagged horizon
Whose god somehow led awry

I drank from the rusty ruins
Bleeding in humanity’s place
Searching for a fabled sign
That vanished without a trace

My eyes sank into the desert road
Wiping the film from promises past
Leaving the dust of this civilization
For one that would somehow last


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Days Like This

Day like this I want to climb
The Retreat Mountain to its Malvern peak
And hear diverse doves that coo sublime
As my soul its ancient manhood seek
In memory coy

Days like this as mangoes ripe
Sweet on the hunger of the eye, my tongue
Longs its ancient language to speak, wipe
Clean the glut and pus of city lung
And inhale new joy

Days like this I want to fly
From Black River to Gold Coast, and wet
My feet in its river, a brown butterfly
Escaping the hunters' hungry net
Who come to destroy

Days like this, I wish you knew
The story of my journey, my ancient start
To find the thing we could not view
With mortal love and mortal heart
Half conscious in the alloy. 


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I Wonder


Oh sweet Christ Child I wonder
if the Wise Men ever knew
that  Party frocks and cheese balls
would someday overshadow you?


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Kiss of the Virgin Surfer

Fallen into pools of blue
with salty water clipped and froth
You want to breathe as the fishes do
electric eels, eccentric shock
Sifting through sand in transit
feet turned to fins in black
Shoreline eclipsed by a crested wave
Nod to the sun, there's no turning back
Paddle like pipeline awaits you
Shoulders taut, sun bleached out hair
Twisted in torso and strong in belief
that the wave of all waves is out there
Break into barreling cobalt
Shake off the spray from your face
The sea spits you out in the ride of your life
You slide onto land with a smoldering grace
Sleep with the movement of currents
Dreams rich in bubbles and bliss
Engulfed in the shadow of wishes and waves
The sea silent now with the weight of your kiss...


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Nightly, They Glow.

Fluorescently yellow,
these flickering fireflies
swelling and streaking
'cross burgundy swazzled skies
Deeply enraptured 
and wanted to capture
I lie low in wait
as my breathing grows faster.
Wishing they'd light
on the tip of my finger
Casting their glow
for a moment they'd linger
Then off they would be
into darkening skies
Leaving their trails
like an exhaling sigh.


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The Plaintive Fish (or

In the heaviest hour I'm transparent
in skies that you've painted green
Carnivorous, blatant desire
replaced with a boyish need
May night creep beside me slowly
and nudge me along your path
The loveliest, calmest sea
flows gentle beneath my past
Oh hours and winters and all
the fish which do dive just for you
can't carry my sleepy ambition
or safely follow me through
You pray that our door can be found
but back to the edge of the road
we're pacing once more going 'round
envelope me kindly but slow
A fire when ebbing is shiny and blue
I really don't mind gazing long
despite the upcoming tragedy moon
I carry it 'round with your song
So sweet is the taste which you left on my brow
So warm the study with in
I'd crawl through if only you'd teach me how
to trade me some legs for these fins.


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Fleeing Anguish

As fires rage in the huge town of Anguish
Many a soul perishes among all the flames
Burning to charred remnants of their trial
Until just one comes along to then effect change

He arrived unnoticed, he blended in well
He, too, was unsure of his role in this land
The people all knew him, for it was foretold
That the fires would end with a touch of his hand

Many had followed him along all the streets
Supporting his mission, his efforts to quell
He knew he was gaining power over the fires
As he rescued those in Anguish, from the flames of Hell

Through time and through thought he then came aware
His mission was clear, to end the town’s plight
He suppressed all the fires, released them from Anguish
As he led the people out, to the town of Delight

Now, Delight wasn’t far off, but yet distant enough
As it took only one to show the people the route
For those who supported, they followed along
And lived out their lives without worry and doubt


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Birch Eyes on Fireflies

Dusting, cascading on wings confiscating
the dreams spilled in pools of desire
We watch and we wait in a thick contemplate
on these paper soft wings to expire

Birch eyes on fireflies, chalky moth feathers fly
slicing the moon from it's strings
Crashing back down to splash drops of desire
incredible, though for the moment it stings

Whispers on wings to the fallen moon sings
touching the tongue of those minted and mute
Lost in these nights, an incredible sight
one which no ether of sense can refute

Silver eyes letting tears, metaled and molded years
Dreams all at once see their chance at escape
and latch on to wings hooked to birch eyes on fireflies
sweeping the sky leaving dust in their place.


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Love Will Be Thy Sword

No steed for him, his feet just fine
as he stands with conviction and power.
For he knows his destiny, his job to do,
from evil, he would never cower.
He fights for the right! He fights for the Light,
The One true God, the Lord.
So, Michael approaches the devil himself
with his hand upon his sword.
It is for He and be it His will
that Michael uses his power.
The devil’s fate, his destiny,
is met this final hour.
An angel, himself, Satan he is,
but he just wanted it all
and God being the god He is
sent Michael to make him fall.
Be cast down from heaven oh, ungrateful one!
Be cast down to live out your days!
God has granted the power you sought,
but gave it in other ways.
Live out your life in darkness with fire.
Be cursed, to Hell below!
Seek out your victims, or subjects you say
from the seeds that you will sow.
Evil, now upon knowing defeat
was forced to leave the clouds.
Michael, left standing upon his feet
was tall and strong and proud.
He fought off the evil that came to fight.
He fought for the grace of his Lord.
He fought for the good and all that is right
with pride, honor and sword.

So, even today, as we go into battle
ready to fight for the Lord,
remember always, your heart is your shield
and love will be thy sword!


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Beneath Your Scented Feet

Dwindling summer, keeps hordes of twitchers away;
Acropolis, fortress with a very charming height;
Promise not to cry, I shall see you in the sky
For a glass of ouzo, in beautiful moonlit night!

Though, Sunday is fine for me to sneak around;
Approaching your beauty, really, is not that easy free;
For loyal gatekeepers are watching the town,
I must take refuge, under the romantic olive tree!

While savoring your fragrance, in solitude!
I hear a man, singing in a falsetto;
For my unwanted skin attracts multitude,
That I decided to stay incognito!

As I huddle beneath your famed and scented feet;
Waiting for a chance, so I can kiss you goodbye;
Birds warble, sending jealous gods to fall asleep
Inspired by your beauty, in your arms, let me die!
 


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The Place of Slumber 9

The maiden stared within his eyes
So deep into his soul
She saw the softest and gentlest eyes
Which made her lose control
She weakened at the thought of love
That stood before this girl
She never thought she’d meet a man
That would change the entire world.
Never in her wildest dreams
Did she think that she would find
A love, resulting from her quest
That never came to mind.
The man, he grabbed for clothes to wear
And quickly had gotten dressed
He’s overcome with emotion, too,
No longer, love to be suppressed.


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The Place of Slumber 3

It seems, the beast within the cave
has been stealing from the land.
The lives of fellow animals
were taken by its hands.
The beast, unseen, stalks its prey
And forages from the earth.
It even eats the living offspring
Of animals, just after birth.
Pure evil dwells within its heart.
The animals scurry in fear
That is why the maiden came
To protect and just stay near.
Her goal; to kill the evil within.
Just how? She was not sure.
She would slay it, so she thought
With her heart of gold, so pure.


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With His Might

Into the darkness, the horsemen ride on
With plans of attack at the morrow.
The village lay dormant, quiet and true.
Soon, many will fill up with sorrow.

The lust in their eyes, a fury beheld
Will never be quenched by their blood.
But, the innocents, well, they will suffer
As the horsemen ride on, on their studs.

To kill and to plunder, lay waste all the souls
With no meaning behind all their actions
The horsemen ride on into history, though,
And never acquire satisfaction.

They continue on from town to town
With purpose, none, except to kill.
Destroy all in their way, pure simple doom
Blood curdling cries remains their thrill.

But, from the ashes, a child overlooked
Will grow strong in the years yet to come
He will get smart and learn to fight
And send them to Hell, where they’re from.

His days in history will overshadow theirs
For he, alone, holds truth and light
He will become king, to all that wish to serve,
For he represents all, with his might.


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The Place of Slumber 5

Upon its lair, she now descends
A light, just there, she sees
An opening, now moonlight glows
A sight she can’t believe
For captured here, are all the lives
Of all the animals taken
The beast really wasn’t a beast at all
Just a creature left forsaken.
It held the creatures, big and small,
In order to have them near
To all the other animals left;
Of the beast, they would just fear.
She knew for sure, now, what to do
She dropped her arrows, her bow
She walked up to the creature now
Of her future, she didn’t know.


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The Place of Slumber 6

It saw her there within the dark
Let out an enormous roar
She stood her ground, without a scream.
Its intentions, hers to explore.
She asked of it just why it did
Scare all upon the earth.
It said that all were scared of him
Since the beginning, time of birth.
It thought it was the only way
To ever have anything, its own
So stealing those, the captured, here,
Made it happy, feeling whole.
She thought a moment, then reached out
To just touch the giant beast
A gesture never before witnessed
By anything, to say the least.


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The Place of Slumber 11

Together they welcomed the start of the day
Together, ventured into tomorrow
Thankful for finding this magical place
Eternally happy, land of no sorrow.
They stayed to live out their days within
The glade that exists in the woods
Their love provided them all their needs
The lovers lived as they should.
For they married, as consent of the land
And started a brood of their own
For with the magic of this beautiful place,
Their family now has a home
And witness, they shall, of the love that has grown.


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Pirate's Song

Torrid seas cast the pirate ship like a toy
As the captain held the mizenmast strong
Men worked hard to bring calm to the vessel
With prayers to their rum that it wouldn’t last long

While one lone pirate with hopes for the bounty
Had eyes on the chest and his hands on the sail
If the ship were to suffer weathered defeat, he thought
That he’d get the prize, that he would prevail

At that moment, a crack of lightning it suffered
The crows nest came down very hard and so fast
Six men had been taken out in one fallen move
As he now then is suffering with pain that will last

For a line then severed, his two legs from under
As he lay there screaming to God from the stern
He just wanted riches and somewhere to spend it
But now there is nothing except then this burn

As his eyes then closed, he thought to himself
His life wasn’t great, but all it could be
He then started humming as words faded fast
“Yes, oh yes, it’s a pirate’s life for me…”


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The Place of Slumber 7

It sobbed just as she touched its face
A sad, alarming sound.
A feeling it had never shared
For no one stayed around.
It quickly then released its hold
Of the many, it held there.
Quickly then, they all had run
To escape from its dark lair.
The maiden, now, saw its pain
Then smiled for the creature
Again, something it had never seen
Upon a face, a happy feature.
It felt as if, then, there was hope
Something, never felt until her
Grateful, it returned the smile
Then started to shed its fur.


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The Place of Slumber 4

With arrows and bow and makeshift shield
She ventured on her way
Her intentions, to kill the evil there;
The beast, she was to slay.
As darkness came upon her now
Just as she reached the cave
A sound, a scary guttural sound,
Emerged, and fear it gave.
Pressing on, she moved, without a light
No direction for her, but wall.
Arrow ready, bow in front
She was here to make him fall.
The sound emerged from the depths
Again, it made her shriek.
She thought, however, of pain for it;
The beast, the thing she seeks.


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The Place of Slumber 2

The animals did not turn away
When she had let out a scream
The maiden thought this odd, this scene,
And thought this all a dream.
Just then, a pain within her arm
Let her know this to be real
She questioned, now, the sight she had
And questioned what to feel.
Just then, an owl upon a stump,
Commenced to speak in verse
Explaining all she came to see
Providing answers for her thirst.
She learned of her new destiny
And what she had to do
The fear crept in, but she pressed on
And held this dream as true.


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The Place of Slumber 10

He reached for her, to take her hand
She gladly took it, too
They wandered from the cave this morn
Out into open view.
All of the animals had gathered,
The ones who sent her there
They just could not believe their eyes
What love did guide from there.
They knew of the maiden’s destiny
Knew not of her love to acquire
They truly applauded the success of her deed
And were happy for her new fire.
For love, that she found, brought her through
The purity, too, of her heart.
Her destiny, now, is no longer hers, alone,
But, is theirs and is just the start.


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Sea, She Loves Me

With forceful currents there, possessed
She pushed me fast to shore
As winds had stirred up, at my back
The sea provided cure

My voyage ended weeks ago
When the homeward ship went down
With prayer and hopes, a dingy afloat
She would not let me drown

Nor be shark bait, a worm on hook
The sea kept me alive
With nature’s course, on current float
I was not meant to die

She placed me on a sandy beach
Upon the break of day
The sea, she kept an eye on me
And taught me how to pray


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The Place of Slumber 8

Its face then changed from beast to man
A curse had bound his soul
To wander nights and reek havoc
By evil, which had control.
As foretold, he’d be set free
If a pure one could see his heart
And show affection despite the curse
Then the curse would then depart.
Now he stands in front of her
Like the day that he was born
Fearful not of her watchful eyes,
But her judgment on this morn.
He feared that she would hate the man
On whom the curse was placed.
A smile appeared, he did not expect,
Upon the maiden’s face.