Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
And the ladybug placed a caressing whisper into dragonfly’s ear,
“I want to fly again. I crave to flap my tiny wings towards sunset’s crux.
I want to breathe again. I want to be held like winds within canyon’s dialect.”
“But, first, I just need to scream.”
Let me be your breeze.
The power to swim!
The power to grin!
The desire to never, ever fall again!
Let us embrace conundrum’s waterfall to be its resolution!
Let us allow joy to be our bedtime lullabies!
Let us let love IN without full moon’s dependency!
Ride on this impeccable jet stream towards animosity’s downfall!
Look in the face of your beautiful enemies
Daring it to stand above pedestal’s fallacy
Let your radiance be their final intimacy!
Take incipient steps,
Upon mended asphalt wishes
Let them tremble at the sight of your beautifully embattled smile
Knowing they will never reciprocate
Where desert winds kneel in our reflections
For we are an oasis
Forged of blood diamonds; sacrificial memories
Breezes become gusts
Gusts become worshipped exhales
All that I am!
All that you are!
All that they hope to be!
Our Yin & Yang
Will release proverbial boomerangs
Breaking vicious circles upon this genesis
We sway above greener pastures.
Gusts become breezes.
Breaking enigmatic mirrors to see your true colors
With a scream to paint your new canvas
The time is now,
Let your two feet become one.
Rise, my ladybug!
To detrimental trials
And caress newfound trust
Within a gentle
©Drake J. Eszes
What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
*5th Place winner
He reads voraciously
to his young children,
beholden and somewhat bewildered
by sweet progeny
their relentless leaching of his words
hungry baby birds, small peep teachings
He reads sporadically
to his father, articles from the paper,
headlines and bylines,
for his dad has cataracts, now, and velum hands
shake newsprint, making a rattling sound
too like the quiver of their cloistered skeletons,
all those remains, all those remains
There is wisdom in comics, he has found,
bucolic rings so like old church bells
tutoring fields through fog
He still tries to read
shared history in eyes,
the geography of long sighs, that topography of belly,
yes, yes, a theology that spills from parted lips
bless each rumpled sheet, that chemistry
which repeats poetry, spoken in a dialect, so rare
He remembers reading an encyclopedia
in the face of a beggar, once,
the prophetical sparking from high brows
which seemed to be only crossed currents,
a lifetime recorded, an unbound edition, A through Z
but when he turned carefully to C,
he'd found a full entry on compassion
Soon, he'll no longer read music notes
through a soft blur, playing guitar for one
a thousand times more educated then he,
this twelve year old girl, her heart
an open lecture hall,
that smile of pure academia,
may she ever be an opus angelorum,
that reaches, will ever reach,
far past mere hospice walls.
As I wake up to the dawn of another day
I wrestle with myself and ask why bother
Just another day, without any warmth
There is a chill in my heart, sadly this is true
The coffee pot sings, an attempt to lift spirits
I confess I welcome even this small endeavor
A machine trying to cheer me up,
In this a cold cold cold world
How can this be?
Me so thirsty and cold?
I hypnotically prepare for another day
As I curse Al Gore
I see you all scurry from here to god knows where
Curious I ponder what’s the rush?
Snow falls from a dreary sky
A blanket of white to chill us even more
A child romps happily in springtime meadows
Chasing butterflies and dreams
His heart now filled with Vodka Ice
How did such warmth turn into an ancient glacier?
In the subway deep underground
I see a stranger, a woman, tears falling
Icicles form under her eyes
She too has a frozen heart
I would hug her, with words of comfort
If not for the invisible cold barrier between us
We are many on this subway of desire
So close, yet we all feel the northern winds of loneliness
This world of love and compassion has become frozen
We have forgotten the season of spring
We have been frozen out of emotions garden
We shiver here in the cold together alone
I rise up from the subways depths
I know my heart was murdered by the arctic winds
Something inside of me , cries
Go Go Go melt something, anything
I pass the newsstand selling flowers
I buy one single rose
The woman with icicle tears is nearby
I hand her this rose
I whisper, what this planet needs
Is some global warming
She smiles a sad thank you
As I walk away, hoping
Global warming takes hold
My prayers are not asking you to
save me from my enemy.
My children have turned their backs.
They praise dance with many
When they need be refuking,
protesting and rebuking.
Among-st those who fight against me-
be my offspring.
I fear not the man who
I already know to be the beast
While my eyes follow my historical foe:
Those created in my womb,go
behind my back sign treaties with known
Chiding our valuable place in history.
They do not want to know how they got here-
They do not care.The nature
of the beast consumes them.
Eyes full of temptations we
kept their butts covered,
and gave them what we could never have.
Instead of gratitude they give us latitude
we cannot reach them.
They love the enemy, like a favorite pet-
Stroking the dog and biting
the hand that feeds them wisdom.
We walked miles with no shoes -
Prayed for our families-
Now our families-prey on us
With every thing handed to
them through the struggle;
Our children render our efforts
useless and in vain.
Vanity be thou sanity
Consuming life from
the top shelves in cafe's...
Thinking non -sober thoughts-
Who knows why we now be despise.
Deaf are their ears when they hear our names;
Holding us accountable, For the shame.
Never ready for the change.
My prayer now is;
God save me from my people:
The joy that settled in my
accomplishments is now
They want to have
their cake crumbs
and eat them too.
Save us from the
disgrace of how they
discount all we've sacrificed -
We made it through
and we have shown our
strength against all odds
How now they praise-
dance with the enemy
They drink no more
from separate fountains
Never sat in the balcony-
never knew the colored section;
Never stood on buses.
Those of us who never found a soft
place to land in the concrete jungles;
have lined your bottoms with cushion's
from the sacrifices and suffering we
Watching you again discount us as you
leave us to the ridicule of your own judgment.
As you praise dance with those
who aspire to see your detriment.
Never before have so many brave elders
have had to watch their own children rob
them of their glory and dignity.
Even an imbecilic knows when he's better off.
That's the sad difference between an
slow learner and a fool.
A fool never cares nor takes responsibility..
The slow learner finally learns.
And is delighted to be enlightened.
Where the fool continues
to waddle blissfully in his own ignorance -
Resenting all who shed light on the
error of his ways....
Those who have his best interest -
Become his stumbling block.
Difficult now for them to blame others;
With bright lights shining on stupidity--
We give them proof-
blinded and overwhelmed
by the truth-they are not interested our story
Never realizing that while their
stubborn heads were buried-in the sand.
We still have to stand-- guard
over their protruding azzes
Until my children have learned
where they fit in on earth,
and what they are truly worth
they will continue " Praise-
Dancing" with the enemies
They will continue to be as eaglet's
flapping around the yard ,
clucking with the chickens...
never soaring-never getting off the ground
Bewildered by our "diminutive etymology":
The Elders and The Ancestors;
We look dumbfounded,and mutter....
"Where did we go Wrong" ?
The strength of a man is not determined
By his muscles or his brawn
It is determined by his strength
To admit when he is wrong
The wisdom of a man
Is not determined by myriad facts
It is determined by the way
That wisdom is seen in his acts
The integrity of a man
Is not determined by his claim
It is determined by the reputation
That follows around his name
The love of a man
Is not determined by mere time
It is determined by each moment
That he makes you feel sublime
The sexual prowess of a man
Is not related to his size
It’s how he satisfies your needs
And what you see there in his eyes
The chivalry of a man
Is not determined by his manhood
It is determined by how he nurtures
You to revel in womanhood
The passion of a man
Is not his need to self-gratify
It is determined by how often
He makes the effort to satisfy
The wealth of a man
Is not seen in monetary things
But by those things that are free
That to your life he brings
The age of a man
Is not seen in the age life deals
But by the strength of his heart
And how young he makes you feel
The sweetness of a man
Is not determined by what he says
But it's determined by the fact
That you want him more each day
The humour of a man
Is not determined by a hurtful tease
It’s determined by how your laugh
When his words your heart please
A man is an awesome creation
That I’m determined to venerate
As Eve’s daughter much in love
This male wonder I celebrate.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Deep in the meadow, where deer run wild in the open,
Papa bear was waking his two cubs from their sheltered den.
"Go out and play Cailyn and Jess, go discover something new,
and always remember you take care of me and I take care of you"
Jess went running as fast as can be leaving her little sister behind.
She wanted to run to the river to see what fishes she could find.
"wait up wait up" Cailyn shouted and hollered at her sisters back.
She followed slowly and carefully inside her sisters foot track.
Jess shouted back "Sis why can't you just let me be.
I don't need you right now and you don't need me"
This made little bear Cailyn so very sad, she ran and hid
Crying and crying from what her sister cub just did
Off in the distance she could here Jess scream
" Cailyn, Cailyn, come help. I'm stuck in the stream"
Cailyn went running as fast as her little legs would go
Having to help her sister, the only friend she did ever know
She just got there in time as Jess was about to fall
Reaching Cailyn helped her out, whew what a close call
The two dirty cubs went home to be with their dad
They fell a sleep in the then den, both of them glad
Papa bear's advice these two little bitty bear cubs was so true
"Always remember you take care of me and I take care of you."
Children's Fable Contest
Shikayat Toh Sabhi Karte hai
Par shikayat karoge Kab Tak
Haqeeqat Ki Talaash To Sabko Hai
Par Haqeeqat Talaashoge Kab Tak
Jo Bhi Hai
Yehi Zindagi Hai Bas
Jilo Thoda Iseh
Zinda Ho Jab Tak
“Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you're not.”-Margaret Thatcher
I pluck heavy Pinocchio strings
Against acoustical caverns
Humming to a different path
Watch cackling sheep place fallacy’s confidence
Over the hill
Stubborn refusal to see the sun
On shattered hopes & biblical verses
Yet, where are reflection's prayer for tomorrow?!
Another diabolical halo
On counter productive wisdom
Addiction to heavenly epiphanies
But, WHERE is their accountability!?
Their world became louder than love
Yet, they knew not how to speak
Another amnesia dialect
Sippin’ on shot glasses of gray matter
Slammin’ cowardice wrists
Upon shallow oak sadness
White collar finger streak on Holy Grail
They chose, poorly.*
Pluck saddened Pinocchio strings
Witnessing convoluted Diabetics, sugar coating heartbeats
Into injected pins & needles
Living in melancholy haystacks
Oh, how deep I
Bow my head for the misinterpreted f(r)iend
Watching them hold rusty compass within their palms
Refusing to tune their direction
©Drake J. Eszes – 7/15/2013
*Bonus points if you get that movie reference. ;-)