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Below are poems written by poet Maurice Yvonne. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.

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A Friendly Goodbye


Poem 1: A Boy And His Painted Piano

he used lively greens
tender blues,
touches of plain mauve 
and rainbow trout splatters
to paint music
on the gas fumes 
that inhabited the clean air
that once use to live there.

he made the ugly decaying
neighborhood i lived in
bearable on even the worse of days.

he was the soft harmless rays of a comforting sun
and responsible for the smiles that broke through
the usual dismay on the faces of seven to ten year olds
already sold on the idea their life expectancies  were
somewhere in the low twenties.

life isn't always about the new iPhone being released
he represented hope.
hope that someone could make it out of the sewers and return
to free the whole chain gang presently locked firmly to a large solid steel post.

even in the dingiest basements of the worst streets
somehow, a whiff of hope threads through the tar laden atmosphere 
and children rise above the manhole covers
that would otherwise maim their existence and keep them
buried below the impossible dream. 

luckily there is always a don quixote who sees beyond
the all too real windmill set to blow others away?

Poem 2: A Street Puddle

what story hides
in this street puddle
what do the reflections want to recite.

one broken flower lies on the wet tar.

the wall cracks from the very bottom to the top
sitting there are black boots quivering 
stalked by white boots with their bully badges yelling "comply"
blind to the co-operation to their commands. deaf to pleas of mercy
as black rubbers fall 
as the wall echoes their cries
three boots stand and you wonder where lies that fourth boot.

do the mass boots of all kind even care
black feet walk as their words float
to fill the air drawing on the sky "no justice no peace"!
time passes, deceptive winds clear the atmosphere and...
weeds grow through the concrete to climb the walls
you can see the shadows large against this impromptu screen
and nothing changes. white boots rule.

Poem 3: In The Beginning 

I have always been here.
I was here when you turned the Earth's Stomach.
When it regurgitated your acid tongue
              stripped the land of its roots and nothing grew.

When you thought you could just skate through 
but instead fell through the lake and froze the Planet
from one pole to the next.

When you cheated the Sun of its permanent spot.
Had it not been for romance who placed 
an infinite sparkler in the night sky
who orbited earth barely clad in her white night silk dress
you might of owned time.

I was here
when you flooded the land
but you hadn't counted on 
the amoeba
everything changed and you retreated 
to your original pit of fire.

maybe you could deal in souls
you knew what was coming
when the heavens opened
and released the winged guardians

so here we sit
the best i can hope for is
balance
fifty/fifty 
good and evil
I'll take my chances with those odds.

Poem 4: A Boy And His Wooden Dragon

a detailed wood carving of a dragons bust leads an ancient 
                                                     ship through an unforgiving storm.

if this replica could only breathe fire like the ones in children's tales

still 
         his face is lifelike, ferocious!

one could swear trails of smoke escape from his nostrils,
  i am convinced his eyes are real emeralds.
          
                          the waves against the metal ship, 
                              the salt that dissolves the rust, 
                                 flows over the dragons neck,
giving one the impression the creature is bleeding.

old wood has no life flow...
                            ...does it?
    no pump to circulate sap
                                  but!...
...i'm convinced this inanimate portrayal is leaking vital fluid.

the craftsman's hand has...,
perhaps...,
a long shot to say the least...,
maybe?,
given his formation...

can the craftsman's artistic soul be so intense as to breathe 
a half life into his meticulously chiseled creation?
how much power does the real artist?...

on a more practical line of thought,
                                                         will we survive?

"who cares" i think "that decision rests not in my hands."
so...
half cocked 
i foolishly climb the dragons neck.
i remove my shirt to use as a tourniquet.
i apply it to his gushing neck in an attempt to heal him.
the whole time stroking him in a calming manner 

suddenly he releases a breath 
he opens his jaw wide
and exhales fire equal to that of a volcanic eruption.

and just like that 
the storm stops.
the sky flashes his baby blues.

would we make it back to land?
is this just an ironic pause in the inevitable egregious battle yet to come?

time would tell. 
time always tells. 
never trust time with a secret.

                          time would tell
                                      after all
                      that is all we have 
                                  us humans 
                                              time 
                                               and then..


June 2015
Armand





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  1. Date: 8/2/2015 12:00:00 AM

    A very clever way to say it :( :( :( Love SKAT
  1. Date: 7/31/2015 8:10:00 PM

    Miss you, Armand. Hope you are doing ok. Hugs
  1. Date: 7/23/2015 11:11:00 PM

    soupmail.
  1. Date: 7/18/2015 7:23:00 PM

    Maurice: I too have hovered in the realm and felt I must depart. Yet I hear the whispers in the night that beckon my return. I hope you'll soon be able to smooth out the rough places. I'm Reminded of T.S. Elliot: We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
  1. Date: 7/16/2015 2:49:00 PM

    The place will be less rich with verse and less kind without you. If I can be of any help just soup mail me. Light & Love Debbie
  1. Date: 7/2/2015 1:14:00 PM

    You have so much to give Armand, you write like no other. Your words pour with so much to think about. we take life for granted, these days. I look around myself and can't taste the world of yesterday, She is gone! :( "one broken flower lies on the wet tar." In my eyes describes how beauty up and dies. You have many fine lines, once again no one does it like you. I enjoyed the shift change. Thanks for the passage and ending message. Time, is not what I make of it to be. Enjoyed stopping by. <3
  1. Date: 7/1/2015 5:35:00 PM

    Anyone who can write such sublime poetic lines the likes of which you have penned here, Armand, truly does see all the beauty that surrounds him...not the black shadows. You cannot write lines like these and sit in the darkness no more than you could fly to the Moon! To express yourself in this sort of manner is proof to me that you sense, notice and feel what is going on around you at all times. You are alive - and you are a poet my friend - and you always will be! Your friend always. :) john.
  1. Date: 6/25/2015 7:01:00 AM

    Thanks Armand, may God give you his strength comfort and blessing.
  1. Date: 6/23/2015 9:03:00 AM

    OH my, Armand, I can see these beautiful poems are bleeding with emotion . The last two, particularly I feel are metaphors for what you are dealing with in your life at this moment. There were so many well crafted images and I loved the "baby blues" line for when things went back to right on the "ocean." You are a bright light here at PoetrySoup and I await your return because time IS all we have and time is what gives us hope . You WILL be back, my friend, I just know it!
  1. Date: 6/23/2015 7:27:00 AM

    I am sad to hear you are leaving my friend. You blew trough here like a breath of fresh air. You will be greatly missed. It is a gentleman's perogitive to change his mind so when your spirit requires nourishment do come back.
  1. Date: 6/20/2015 4:57:00 AM

    Until we meet again my friend - I know in time you will be back - focus on your precious family and on you and one day you will return:-) until that day .... my love and hugs as always Jan xx
  1. Date: 6/19/2015 6:48:00 PM

    to steal from the immortal Ross Parker and Hughie Charles...we'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. All the best Armand.....David
  1. Date: 6/19/2015 6:45:00 PM

    As beautiful as ever....use all your strength and focus on your family Armand....my prayers are with you and we will be waiting for your return one day....much love my friend
  1. Date: 6/19/2015 6:43:00 PM

    until THEN, Armand, until THEN!!

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