a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the en book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry
I am reaching out to you
Because I could not stop it
How have you been?
I have been missing you
Hope you have been missing me too.
I speak now, not with breath,
But through the bones of history,
Through palms that never bore fruit
Because your embargo starved the soil.
You feared not our weapons—
We had none to match your bombs.
You feared our ideas,
Because they burned too brightly in the dark.
Sixty-two winters and summers,
My people have walked in chains—
Not of iron,
But of isolation, hunger, and propaganda.
Is it a crime to dream in red?
Is dignity a sin,
When worn by brown hands
On a small island that refused to kneel?
You said it was freedom—
Yet you crushed us under boots
Stamped democracy,
Laced with hypocrisy.
Your friends—your “allies”—watched.
Some nodded.
Some traded,
And many sold their silence for your gold.
Fidel is gone,
But the embargo remains—
Like a ghost that haunts both jailer and prisoner,
A curse passed down by cold-hearted kings.
America, when the axis shifts,
And the sun of the global south rises—
What will your monuments say then?
What flag will you wave when truth takes the throne?
History is a patient god.
It watches.
It remembers.
And when it judges—
It does not ask permission.
after Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe
We understand you Poe,
You saw the world through a darkened
lense-- The passions you sought
were from a spring that was filled
with pleasures most twee--- One's
sorrow is uniquely painful from
another's, don't fret now Poe, for there is
worse to come-- That is not true
Poe for the Ravens who know you won't
let you love alone-- No one is
there to prepare you from the storm
of grief --But, the Ravens here
wish to bring you the joy of a little
peace-- the buzz of a bumblebee, the
soft hills that surround the
cliffs of the mountain-- the light
patter of rain before a downpour
so mighty-- Poe forget not, after
the trees have shed their leaves and
a silver glow fills the sky-- the dawn
of spring lurks 'round the corner too--
with its lighter rays that look so
ancient and cool-- The murder
says the blue you see is merely
a coating of deceit --- To hide
our clouds and the thunder that
shakes us-- Don't worry about the
cloud-- For the demon in your view
was but an angel in another form.
Any pet owner knows…
Our furry friends are as much
a part of the family as anyone.
Missing my boys.
My Dear Monte,
Life is simply not the same
without you by my side
Although it was your time to go
oh how I’ve cried and cried
I know you’re whole and happy there
and that relieves my pain
Until I see your empty bed
and then I cry again
You’re with your brother Hudson too
and that is good to know
Oh, how I’ll miss you both, my boys
till it’s my time to go
And on the day, when I arrive
while running o’er the ridge
We all will meet and never part
and cross that Rainbow Bridge
Good morning there
Here I come..
With nothing in hand
But promise of the better you
I lament no more…
The torment of the past
Remain in the past
Here I pass my greetings.
I wax thinking my yesterday was the worst
Until I heard you are the best
Then I got perplexed by your possibilities
I got possessed by your peace
Here i’m coming for you…
I am one with those who think you ain’t real
In the realm of your existence
You are a fairytale a joke of decades.
But your smell proved us all wrong…
Your scent so silent in nature
Your aroma invites not just everyone
It chooses the chosen and chase the cheats
It shatter strong walls for the new sun
The new day and the new beginning
Of the new hope.
My past made me who I am
My present is who I am
I’m longing for your essence of touch
I’m ready to be you and dine with you
Future here I come…
Yesterday has done and gone
It has disappeared
All i’m left with are the memories
The saddest of them which bring sorrow
I need you by my side dear future
You are all I have and all I need right now…
I had a letter today on the envelope was my name
As I started to read the letter I could see the writer was in pain.
The writer was happy the writer was sad
The writer was angry the writer was mad
The writer was reaching out in a letter to a trusted friend
The writer was asking someone to listen
And help their broken heart mend
The writer was full of unhappiness and their words were filled with sorrow
The writer wanted a better life and a brighter tomorrow
As I was reading this letter I began to cry
I had to stop a few times to wipe my eyes dry.
The writer of this letter who could it be
I recognise the writing my god the writer is me
Since I left home in Memphis, Tennessee,
and landed on my face. I woke up in this place,
and saw fishes swimming next to me.
I found firewater, never the sun.
Is this any way to drown, in the soaking part of town?
Goodbye, good luck, your loving son.
Little girl, don't you give up now,
Unravel that quizzical brow.
Run like a roar, not with dread,
Stand tall, hold high your head.
Remember the words your mother said:
"O sweet daughter of mine,
Let the whole world see you shine,
Everything will be fine,
O sweet daughter of mine."
Become an alchemist,
See through the mist.
Turn the pain into your gain,
But don't let your heart wear a brain.
Keep the poems close you've read,
There's beauty and love just up ahead.
Though life may not be as it's said,
It's more than butter, more than bread.
Rise above the noise because you can,
Life is a journey, not a plan.
Have faith in Him,
Life won't feel so dim.
He loves you, sweet child, you radiant spark
So be gentle when life feels dark.
Be wild and free, go hug a tree,
Dance with the wind, just let it be.
Live with ease,
Listen to the honey colored bees.
Talk to the flowers,
Rest under the bowers.
Spend your hours
Smiling through the rain showers.
Carry on,
Look for dawn.
Every hurdle will be gone,
By the next morn.
They call you my ex—
like you were just another chapter,
just another name to forget.
But how do I forget
the girl who made forever feel real?
You weren’t my past.
You were my present,
my always.
The one I whispered dreams to at 2 AM,
the one I laughed with
until my ribs ached and my guard fell.
They say time heals.
But time can’t touch the parts of me
that you etched your name into.
It doesn’t erase your voice
from the corners of my mind,
or your touch
from the quiet spaces of my heart.
I still carry you—
not like baggage,
but like a scar I’m proud of,
because it means I once loved deeply,
and maybe,
was loved too.
So no—
you’re not my ex.
You’re the one I still write about
in the silence,
the one I reread like a story
that never got its final page.
And maybe… just maybe…
some stories are meant to find their ending
in the second draft.
Yours,
Always,
Me
A letter to future me
Dear future me
I hope not tears to be hope you see the light at the end of the tunnel
I hope you win this miserable fight
I wonder if I might
I wonder if I might dance
I wonder if I might come out of this
I wonder if my dreams will be released
I wonder if my soul will fly free
I wonder if it’s meant to be
My advise My advice thought simple always be nice
My advice if your in rage then your mind is a haze
You must know
You must know you are loved
You must know you are kind
You must know you are caring
You must know you are daring
You must know most importantly that you are loved by me your inner child
From Josie 2025
To future me
On a spring day in the afternoon sun
I write these words to you
It's here that I've died and been reborn thousands of times
I've been scattered amongst the cirrus clouds that are swirling through the sapphire sky
I've shed my skin and found myself anew with the budding leaf of green
I've buried the ashes of my previous thoughts deep in the dirt
Let there be food for flowers
I want something beautiful to grow from my darkness
Every breath I exhale into the breeze is a part of me that loves you
My heart, my mind, my soul
I hope that I can reach you
Dear Emily, 'the Recluse of Amherst'
In my university days, you burned in me
As a dazzling flame of endless inspiration.
As I sit to write to you, your soul in its depth I see
And it speaks to me, still giving endless motivation.
Your concise and crisp musings, penned years ago,
Continue to light poetic sparks in my soul.
Your poetry is like a whispered secret still aglow
As a recluse, you hid yourself. From the crowd you stole.
Your poems give a glimpse into the workings of your heart
Your thoughts, bold and subtle speaks directly to me.
As I think of you, through my mind, emotions of awe dart.
Staying aloof, you watched nature and animals closely.
In your poems, you elevated the mundane to the sublime.
‘If I could Stop one Heart from Breaking’_
This poem, stays immortal in all time.
Your musings on life and nature are breathtaking.
Dear Emily, you shouldn’t have hidden your light,
Like a lamp under the bushel. Sad, your poems you buried,
Abhorrent of publicity, but posthumously came into limelight.
Now across oceans and tides, they are avidly ferried.
Thought I perhaps should let all my friends see,
How touched I was on finding this letter to me,
Found by mistake, after so many years,
I collapsed into buckets of tears,
A treasure bequeathed to me, was meant to be.
POST-SCRIPT:
As the writing is faint
in the scan above I have typed it out
for ease of legibility.
Abu Ben Adhem
(poem by Hunt, James Henry Leigh)
(1784-1859)
Has been translated in Greek by
Dimitrios Stais (as per manuscript
in possession of his son Panos Stais)
This small note is sent to
Jennifer Alan Hunt, the great
grand-daughter of Dimitri
Stais.
Of course, poems of many other
authors of this "English Verse"
Oxford Book were translated
in Greek by Dimitris Stais,
but I simply make mention of
the one titled as above because
of the author's name. (HUNT)
May I express the
wish, dearest Jennifer, that
one of the future editions of
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
comprise some of your cherished
poems.
With lots of love
your gd father
Panos
Athens 19th December 1968
Grant me grace
As I fall into this place,
With so much acheived
And so much more to go.
Grant me grace
As I recall my old face,
Such rivers of emotions,
Immaculate proportions.
Grant me grace
In slowness and in haste,
For the color and the sound
Are just noisy trains moving 'round!
Grant me grace
For God's Sakes,
It's Christmas Eve!
Can't I just for once believe?
Grant me this grace,
Justin Case.
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