I'm leaving now, but here is a reminder
'Twill bring to you the days we walked through rain
So when you wish to feel my hand in yours
Or stroke your dripping hair-- Then kiss the rain
Though leaving now, I wish I could be with you
So when you feel o'erwhelmed with grief or pain
And long for my caress upon your face,
The rain will touch instead-- So kiss the rain
Whenever you have tho'ts of this sad parting
And salty tears your lovely cheeks do stain
To feel the tears for you I'll surely have
Do this, and I will too-- Go kiss the rain
Whenever you are longing for my presence
And times that we went strolling down the lane
I'll whisper soft endearments on the breeze
So heed the sighing wind-- And kiss the rain
If ever you should pine to hear me speaking
The thunder might burst forth with glorious main*
While drops that fall are sure to be my tears,
To feel them wet your skin-- Just kiss the rain
* Power or Force
Now where does this Highlander start
To thank those commenter's, present and past
So many read and absorbed
Their kindness to me always lasts
Dr.Ram and Carol Brown
My African Queen 'Miss Wilma Neel's
Michael from New York City
Whose comments I internally feel
There's Andrea, the Utah babe
And Carolyn, from Florida State
Their writing I so enjoy
For their words reverberate
John Loving is such a wonderful guy
There's Sara and Doris too
Deb Radke and Sharon Ruebel our newbies
Made welcome to our literal zoo
P.D. Skat and Constance
Barbara, Iolanda and June
Francine from lovely Nanaimo
Many thanks to all of you
To Ruben, Celene and Raul
Your past writes have helped me grow
Along with so many others
You have helped my words to flow
Blimey! I better not miss out the Brits
Sarah, Brian, Sharon and June
And Anna Marie, away down in Wales
I have read in my front room
Many dudes I also have to thank
Harry Horsman the Geordie boy
The two Roberts, Dufresne and Hinshaw
Whose writings bring so much joy
There's also the bard called Peranteau
Billy the Kidster, Cecil as well
HG, Catie Lindsey and James Goff
Who marshalls his words real swell
And lastly there's the thousands of others
This character has ran out of space
Keep the ink in you pen gently flowing
Your names to me is your face
Golly! this is turning into a story
And many told by the above writing troops
As I marvel at your writing ingredients
Keep writing for this wonderful Soup
I want someone to pamper me
To bathe me with love and care
I want someone to cherish me
To say he’ll always be there
I want someone who hears the sigh
That no one else can hear
I want someone who bears me up
When my heart trembles with fear
I want someone to adore me
And tell me I’m his guiding light
I want someone to caress me
All through the lonely night
I want someone to play with me
And cuddle me like a child
I want someone to entice me
With passion to drive me wild
I want someone to make love to me
Like I’m some goddess divine
I want someone to touch my soul
To take me to heights sublime
I want someone to nurture me
To keep me under his wing
I want someone to humor me
And give my heart songs to sing
I want someone to ravish me
Make me forget time and place
I want someone to possess me
Make me vanish without a trace
I want someone to kiss me
Like he’s tasting nectar sweet
I want someone to taste me
Like he’s savoring a treat
I want someone to adore me
Like I’m the sacred grail
I want someone to follow me
Down each and every trail
I want someone to look at me
And see what lies within
I want someone to guard me
And keep me safe from sin
I want someone to hold me
And sing a sweet lullaby
I want someone to console me
With the truth and never a lie!
I want someone who is daring
Who'll fight enemies old and new
I want someone who's divine
And that someone, my dear, is YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I do believe in magic
I so believe in peace
I believe you know undoubtedly
Of beauties and of beasts
The human spirit can withstand
And rise above the shrine
Belittle all you want, my dear
I’ll be the dwarf in time
But I’ll evolve as I hold dear
These sentiments that haunt you
I’ll cherish every single tear
Because you’ve plagued me to
I’ll turn the other rosy cheek
Though undeserved it may be
I will forgive, but won’t forget
The promised growth inspired in me
Further more, I wish to say
Remind me that I’m still alive
Disturb the sleeping monsters
Please provoke me to survive
You compliment this hypocrite
Attention seeking scum
And help stick out the finger
That outranks the sorest thumb
Paste on your passion smile
Crisp all your words
as you settle yourself
to be self-consumed, heard
Whisper sweet nothings
which only you know
Don't stop the banter,
the words or the flow
You've reached the summit
of the loneliest point
You're king of the vacancy
best in the joint
Write all your poems
on the back of your hand
and read them at supper
of cream pie and sand
Your siblings will stand up
and whisper applause
You've felt all emotion
and ridden all stars
They bid you good-bye
for you're out of their league
and to think you just wanted
to be heard, succeed...
Unravel your ego
sit down for a spell
Let the cool green glass
of deception dispel
Wind all your hair
'round the wheel and dissolve
Tell me your story
and we'll be involved
You will be captain
and I your first mate
in the skies of forgiveness
pop bubbles of hate
We'll write out our names
with invisible ink
and laugh 'till we hadn't
a thought left to think
Sipping hot cocoa
'round fires of trust
we'll bandage depression
with cider and rust
and blow concentration
'till wishes ensue
and glisten in glass
like reflections of you
We don't expect something from nothing
but always keep hope lightly lit
We want what we know won't be quite good for us
and force situations which never will fit
We speak when we should hold our tongues by the throat
and let silence bounce off the air
We verbalize nothing and yet all at once
we scream that the world is unfair
We hold all the cards to our life in one hand
and grab with the other at dreams
We grow up imperfect and tragic and bent
and about to burst out at the seams
And yet in this comedy of errors
we still pin dark dignity down and demand
that we're made in the image of One who is mighty
and not a mere mortal, a man
We yearn for a taste of perfection
and search with an uncommon zeal
We reach out for moments which polish our bones
and convince us our future is real...
Marching down life’s highway, my feet became very sore
I then came upon a sign that read “Heaven’s Grocery Store”
When I got closer the doors swung open wide
Next thing I knew I was standing there inside
I saw a flock of angels positioned everywhere
They handed me a basket and said, “Child shop with care.”
Everything a human required was in that grocery store
With many commodities to carry, you could always come back for more
First I acquired some Patience; Love was in that same row
Further down was Understanding, you require that everywhere you go
I grabbed a box of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two
And obtained Charity of course but more than just a few
And then reached for Courage to help me run this wicked race
My basket was almost full but remembered some loving Grace
I then chose Salvation for it was advertised as free
I tried to collect enough of that for both you and me
Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill
For I thought I had everything to do the Master’s will
As I went up the aisle, I saw Prayer and proceeded put that in
For I knew when I stepped outside I was bound to encounter sin
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last thing on that shelf
Song and Praise were hanging near so I just helped myself
Then I asked an angel, “Now how much do I owe?”
She smiled and said, “Just take them wherever you may go.”
Again I asked, “No really, how much do I owe?”
“My child,” she said, “God paid your bill a long time ago.”
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation
From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last
Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn and an eve has been seen
To be born into such a nation
Through their eyes, you see just your dream
For to be born on the land of the heather
Through Glens of bracken and fern's
Birthed into one of their clans
Your first breath you have duly earned
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Welcome to Alba, the ultimate creation
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
A melody from yesteryear
Plays softly on the wind--
A mix of myrrh and honey,
A wistful sweet and bitter blend.
Fond memories of bygone days,
Of long departed friends.
Of hollyhocks and lilacs,
A reverie that never ends.
A vision of a one-room school
Set in a woodland glade--
Of children playing joyfully
There in a spreading oak tree's shade.
A farmer toiling in his field
Behind a horse and plow.
No air conditioned tractors
As modern farmers do it now.
A rustic, weathered, country church,
A Sunday morning bright
Glows fondly now in memory,
Bathed in nostalgia's hallowed light.
A barefoot boy with fishing pole
Beside a lazy stream.
A song in perfect harmony
Played in that golden summer dream.
Oh memories, sweet memories
Locked in my soul to stay.
Oh melody, sweet melody,
A haunting song of yesterday.
water a flowering seed
as downy hands
mend a crushed bruised reed.
a flaxen shaft
lights a smoldering wick
as a ‘lectric beam
starts a heart’s soft tick
spines in strain
raze a barrier wall
make a blade stand tall
I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things,
like maybe watching birds.
So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.
It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.
My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.
No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.
Hidden from the world
Holding angels ransom
With ivory inked thighs
Legs swallowing purity
Prying pink eyes
With sin studded threats
With pierced pirouettes
Leering from afar
Come out of the corner
My jaded sultry star
Hatred is a smoldering fire
That burns beyond control.
An insidious, lethal poison
That will slowly kill the soul.
Forgiveness is the antidote
For hatred's deadly sting.
It's a bitter pill to swallow,
But a precious, healing thing.
Hatred's part of Satan's plan,
Designed to bring us misery.
Forgiveness is a gift from God,
Sent to cleanse and set us free.
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
The Highlands, our Kingdom, our many Lochs and Glens
Our beauty woos fair maidens to be at the side of Highland men
Their futures to be part of our history, Queens to our many Clans
As we stand and salute the Saltire, by the side of their Highlander man
Such a Princess exists, in a far away land from the Scot's
To our shores we'll grace her beauty, once seen, forget me not
Onclaud, by the name Nette, shall stand by her Alba man
Upon a Ben she'll stand so proud, admiring the lands of her married Clan
She'll walk through purple heathers, thickened by natures sun
Amidst ferns and ancient bracken's by burns so crisp in run
By her side he stands this man, kilted displaying his kin
Claymore at the ready to grace his enemies skin
His Queen, their Kingdom, their Castle, resting on the shores of the River Ness
Overlooking forests and greens, salmon runs in richness finesse
When the night befalls these lands, in the Kingdom of the Lochs and Glens
It's understandable as to why they be wooed, by these historic Highlander men
A regular walk to the park
My baby’s favourite landmark
Not more than half a mile away
Where kids like to run and play
In the centre of the busy town
A place filled with giggling sound
Not only by little princes and angels
This place is liked by parents, as well,
Rows of beautiful flowers
A big wide tree in the corner
The green grass covering the ground
Swings,slides and see-saws all around.
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Be careful 'bout the things you say.
Make certain how they sound;
For other people may not know,
And spread their thoughts around;
Expounding on your choice of words,
And how they saw your manner.
It's best to weigh your words, my friend,
Than pay the price of candor;
For oft when people hear some things,
They take them out of context,
And on repeating what they've heard,
They give it different syntax.
They'll weave a story from your words,
That you won't recognize,
And then just try and find someone,
To stand and sympathize;
A single friend who knows you well,
And won't believe such stories,
Is hard to find when times are hard,
And gossips compound worries;
So watch your words for they have power,
Or you'll end up in mourning,
To whom and where and what you said.
Remember well this warning.
"A FOOL GETS INTO CONSTANT FIGHTS. HIS MOUTH IS HIS UNDOING. HIS WORDS ENDANGER HIM."
My mother starts moaning, with another one due.
She won't live to see, as she struggles to wheeze.
I never knew famine would produce skies so blue.
But no need for toilets, I forget how to squeeze.
Searing sun inflates skulls into baroque balloons.
One whining dog, dying , from a surfeit of fleas.
I squint as my sister beats a roach with a spoon.
She's holding out hope, with a morsel to tease.
My eyes can still water from the feces and trash,
tossed up by vultures to release fresh disease.
I dig up what moist dirt I can pound into mash.
An old man collapses, not a single one grieves.
What passes for corpses- baking black as they pop.
Now the flies feel the heat and retreat to the trees.
My brother keeps wailing and I wish he would stop.
My breathing grows shallow in the oven fed breeze.
If it helps each of you,
I am down on my knees.
I beg you.
Hand me one piece of bread.
Would you, please?
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
No matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you hide
For I'm the clever one, who'll find you and watch you slide
There are some things that you will never own, nor I, so read my words
For if I have to find a reason, my actions are seldom heard
These actions I speak about, are the watching of your life fade
And the squealing through your last breath, your body in dying cascade
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and dare to cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
The world is small enough, it takes nothing for me to try
I can only ever promise, take what is never yours, and you will rightly die
If I say I love you,
What does it mean?
Is it just something physical,
A sexual thing?
Is it just what I feel,
When I feel my blood surge,
When you reach out and touch me,
A physical urge?
That can't be love,
It's just chemistry.
It cannot be based,
For sure we all know,
That's the way it begins,
But if that's all there is,
Then soon it will end.
When the newness wears off,
And things become old,
Then boredom sets in,
And the lamb leaves the fold,
In search of new pastures,
And new, sweeter grass,
So listen and learn,
Be ye lad or a lass.
Love is a deep,
And emotional thing,
That grows over time,
Not just a short fling.
It's something so precious,
Something so rare,
Most find it but once,
So shop with great care.
You'll kiss many frogs,
'Fore you find a prince,
It's an old saying, yes,
But it makes lots of sense.
Don't jump at the first one,
That may come along.
They'll woo you and lose you,
With an old but sweet song.
Set your sights higher,
For it's a sure bet,
One values the most,
What is hardest to get.
Per chance, Madame, you will be kind
Please, can you spare me, but a pence?
I wish to eat and, too, I thirst.
I must now pay my rent.
Per chance, dear sir, you will be kind
Please, can you spare me, but a shilling?
I promise not to drink it down
Nor, at the track, a killing.
Can someone please assist me now
For I’ve seen to have lost my way?
I promise, if you help me now
I’ll return the deeds someday.
Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.
Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.
This quatrain was inspired by Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'
Her offerings, not of words themselves
But of her, her deep inflections
She gives us light and truth and love
She gives a soul direction
The words she pens, they’re more than ink
They’re a stem of her true being
For with the words, she allows us sight
Into the very core, the meaning
So, never dare to suppress her gift
Her talents shine the true light
It would do you good, to try your best
To feel, just what she writes
In reponse to "Useless" by Kristin Reynolds
When you meet someone who brightens
The darkest of your days
Who cheers you up and turns you around
Because their lovely heart displayed
Their lovely heart displayed
Words of warmth and kind
Encouraging laughter and poetry
Now written from my mind
Written from my mind
Are poetic pieces shared
From an angel to a friend
For this special one who cared
This special one who cared
Will remain forever in my heart
We will only be thoughts away
One day our tomorrows will start
'Written for a friend to a friend'
Who is actually out there
That the multitudes believe
What religion is really there
That they all see
How many are actually out there
That makes them all believe
What religions are actually out there
That they all see and believe
How do they know they are there
What have they seen that they believe
All their religions they say that are out there
That have never ever been seen
So many scripts and fables
Passed down through the times
Passages from village elders
Etched and changed their minds
Do believers look back even further
To well over two thousand years
When the village elders decided
To suppress, enhance their fears
Do believers go back even further
When the land produced their gods
Volcanoes, lightning and thunder
Became their staff, their rod
As I return from beyond the dark
On travels that you can't comprehend
Others actually know where you came from
If told would send you round the bend
All that you believe in
Was passed down through the years
The elders of human history
Suppressed you, to contain your fears
We photographed this shoot
Against frosted glass
In the shape of hearts
That captured her class
Her long blond hair
Catches the light
Her curvaceous shape
My love for her grows
White silk robe
In midriff drape
This vista, my view
I am left agape
Our shoot closes
The applause we take
As i turn to my Tink's
My darling, its you who makes
A poem is more,
Than rhythm and rhyme.
The words must have balance,
With tempo and time.
Free Verse is like that,
The words have a blend,
That helps it to flow,
From beginning to end;
Sometimes like honey,
From a sweet honey tree,
Sometimes like a river,
As it flows to the sea;
But there's always a message,
Or a story that's told.
The words can be sweet,
Or compelling and bold.
A poet's an artist,
Painting pictures with words,
Bringing out music,
Your ears haven't heard;
A music that comes,
From down deep in your soul.
It makes one feel free,
It makes one feel whole,
To be able to write,
Words that reach out and touch,
Something special inside you,
And bringing out much,
Of the feelings inside you,
That we often hide,
Often revealing things,
So deep inside,
Even you did not know,
Were hiding in there,
But the words shine a light,
On beliefs and on cares;
So when you read a poem,
Don't just read words on paper.
You must feel them and taste them,
For words have a flavor.
Sometimes it's bitter,
And sometimes it's sweet,
But if you taste it,
It's always a treat;
For a poet shows more,
Than the stories he's told.
When he shows you his poems,
He shows you his soul.
(Tread lightly and don't kill the messenger)