Written By: D. Collins 12/19/25
He'd say "do good in school" and he'd do everything else.
"That's your only job" and he would handle the rest.
He'd do my hair with pretty berets all around.
Dress me up as the flyist little girl in town.
At cheering competitions he was the loudest in the crowd.
At my college graduation there was no parent more proud.
He made sure I was prepped for the complications of life.
And, passed on the lack of drama found in his genotype.
I wouldn't change a thing, even if I could.
Compared to some folks, I had it pretty good.
If I had to do it, I would do it all over again.
And ask God to please make more men like him.
in the square, light encircled
choristers of yule
who incanted charmingly
as the dew sank cool
on their rouge berets,
cardinal cloaks with green socks—
a cordant bouquet
tactical rainbows
a fresco to p a i n t
red berets, blue berets
rainbows are tactic
F R E E
Madiba and Fidel play
chess upstairs
glass goblets t
ink
LING
then they s
a
M
b
A
sea of Love
w i d e n
a space upon the s
H
or
e
where van Riebeeck too
saw colours
G A L O R E
when red and blue melts
into purple
tactics become tick-tack-toe
in
a furnace where
rainbows laugh
Zzzzzzzz~
it’s not its striking unique slate of tones
as if vincent had risen from his century
long sleep
it is not nature’s rich hypnotic melodies
or the slim fingers of gusts touches our
very cores
stirs emotions in the coldest of humans or the
crackling sound under our new walking shoes
it is not the acorn berets chipmunks discard below
white oaks once they devour its scrumptious meat
not the wagon rides or the hot chocolates that
stamps its marker on children’s innocent faces
it’s not the bliss(greater than any gift) our kids
ingratiates us in displaying their unadulterated
love returned continuously and unconditionally
this adventure reminds us of our blessings
a welcomed little something beyond cities
however it’s not any one single happening
of this season which fills our hearts warm
it’s the multitude of many moments
the ones greater than any reality or
of all the fantasies found in dreams
deep within our fortresses built
it’s all the endearing memories
autumn leaves
armand~
Lady,
Sitting,
Upon,
Lake,
Picnic,
Bench,
Long hair,
Liberated,
Of its berets and barettes,
Cascades,
Down,
To,
Her,
Breasts,
That,
Cradles evenings,
And,
Songs,
Sighs of geese,
Shes dressed,
In a dapper sundress,
How did she get there,
By the map and compass,
Of her reveries,
By the serenade,
Of the lake wind,
Flowing through her hair,
Empty picnic table,
She gazes blankly,
Beautific and lovely,
As a hymn,
Into the lakes,
Surreal reflection,
The trees are swaying,
In its lucid crystal,
Crowning crescents,
And her Beauty,
Is sitting upon the lake,
Kissed by stars
Reynaldo Casison
One little girl knows that she has a forever family waiting for her in America. She has many special needs. She is wanted and prayed for.
To protect her family, I won’t name her but lift up in your prayers. Others that were joined with them in the process: one man killed 2 days into the war, A Pastor’s family with two teens have opted to stay in harms way (the husband and father due to his age had to stay and fight). Our friends had previously traveled to the Ukraine several times to adopt their beloved little girls who are all praying for the Ukraine and their new sister-to-be.
THE BRAVE, THE BEAUTIFUL AND HUMANITY
Who pays attention to the orphan?
O for the beautiful - a wide net is cast.
Our friends have in their sights
one who many would cast aside
but God sees…oh yes God sees
in compassion and compunction,
and places a child in the arms of love
with other Ukrainian sisters, adopted
by a couple set aside for such work.
Who else gets the job done?
Green Berets braving war
to carry the orphans to Poland.
Send them hither and thither
to safe places, O God of all.
I’m but a writer, but let us see —
let us drive home - humanity.
3/11/2022
clad in black berets and boots
all camouflaged with heavy guns
their armoured jeeps in Indian file
like obedient dogs they march along
faces pale from the burning sun
peasants tender, weak and poor
gaze helpless at the peacekeepers:
what begets this act of war?
give them a chance to make their bread
lend them a voice to sing their song
show them love, let them dream
that’s how peacekeeping is done!
AUTUMN FANTASY
RICH ARE THE COLORS THAT ONLY FALL CAN BRING
ON TREES OF RED, BROWN AND GREEN
FRESH AND VIBRANT STURDY AND FULL OF SWAY
THE MAPLE, THE PINE, AND THE WILLOW TREE,
MAKES THREE....
I SEE PEOPLE WEARING
SHAKE KNIT SWEATERS AND BRIGHT RED BERETS
DRESSED WITH ROSY CHEEKS AND HAPPY SMILES
EVERYONE LOVES A STROLL IN NATURE 'S GLEN
EVEN THE HAPPY FISH WHO SWIM AWAY
THEY TOO UNDERSTAND THE SWEET SHALOM
OF AUTUMN'S TEMPERATE SONG
SHAKING OUT HER COLORS ,
SHE ALWAYS, MAKES HER WAY BACK HOME.
I yearn for shades of Autumn and all that it could bring
the chromis strews of redding bricks the chilly burrr
Blushing apples high as kites tied to apron strings
and acorns full of french berets and nutmeg tinted plur
falling down like parachutes with no inter ;
I do foretell the signs of summer's end and so salute
the fury tilts of sapling greens in soakly forest wood;
Those elongated serenades of change with no refute
who can question them beneath God's plentish hood
except his "FIVE" bounteous leaves of cherry wood;
Swiveling down here and there aiming far with dip
the rusky calls of brownie birds as they lose their fur
The cheep- cheep- cheep of a baby's nest, a quip
that zings across the equinox of fall and oft conjures
the memory of an Autumn's tale and sweet procure ;
I yearn for gatherings of pumpkin pies and feast
the shaky janks of corn roast romps
the evening hearth that says "you're truly blessed"
Yes I love the Autumn's bold audacious stomp,
that sells to me its beauty and its comp...
August 24, 2018
“Is Fashion Modern?” MOMA* asks
And so, in its new show,
The items on display are there
To let us know it’s so.
A pair of Levi’s, baseball caps,
Bikinis and berets,
A Wonderbra, dashikis, kilts
And suits from prior days.
A Rolex watch, Adidas, Nikes,
Mao jackets, too,
A leotard by Danskin,
Polo shirts (but not J. Crew).
Lipstick, flip flops, saris, Speedos,
Ties, stilettos, Spanx,
Jumpsuits, hoodies, Snuglis
(For which new moms owed their thanks).
My friend and I did reminisce,
While strolling the exhibit,
About the clothes like those we wore
When age did not inhibit.
*Museum of Modern Art (NYC)
Renown
There was a pub in Taunton known world over
And boy did it ever hop, good live music
uplifted the spirits of the motley crew
or was it the smell from the clouds of smoke?
I tell you guys you could get stoned
without ever smoking a joint yourself.
The landlord known as Hopitty due to
a gammy leg was a most fine host.
An eclectic crowd from far and wide
that normally would not rub shoulders
Yet the Wood Street Inn bonded us together
Gays openly welcome, bankers and the such.
All some how fitted into its rare mix
Aussie's made it a port of call not to
be disappointed judging from the repeat
visits, no that is not a Frenchman.
That's Tim he can speak some French
but he just loves berets and baggy pants
not to forget his striped scarf trailing
greatly missed, rest in peace old friend.
Sadly it is closed down now and converted
into two houses. It closed on New Years Eve
2006 and what a party it was. Hopitty gave
me a small police bell from behind the bar.
A fair few of us have now passed on
yet the friendships always remains alive.
It will be a fair while yet before
the memories of the Woody die in minds.
To be French means I’ll need to stop a few things,
Whilst other small details I’ll seize.
I'll need to start smoking a lot, and
Start eating a whole lotta cheese.
But I wont wear berets with striped shirts,
Or hold a long skinny baguette,
Or say words like merde or putain,
Va te faire foutre, or even say couchette.
But, I will talk as though I am in love,
And eat frogs legs whenever I dine,
And be happy, with passion, with all that I am,
Then, with friends, share all of my wine.
D Daisy plays, and Violet bathes in a sudden evening rain
A Anointed too, is Rosie's face, with every gentle drop
N Narcissus squeals with laughter, too, and sings a sweet refrain
C Crickets dance, wear plaid berets, and do a Celtic hop!
I In the mud we’ll find two weeds, they flop about a lot!
N Nanny Mum, and Granny Plum , play banjos in the band
G Gardenia's cheeks are white and sleek, she scrubs from end to end
R Rabbits hear the jubilee, and from their holes they pop
A A squirrel or two, come down the tree, where all the fuss began
I In spite of fear, the little mouse, looks out to see what’s up
N Nearby, the cat, just waves his hat, allows the mice some fun!
D Dogs join in, start chasing cats, they splash, and play like kids
R Rainbows fill the evening sky, where now the sun peeks in
O Overhead, the clouds are tinged, in greens, and blues and reds
P Pretty is the world tonight, refreshed, and smelling good
S Softly now the pitter-pat upon on the evening’s hood
________________________
Submitted for PD's Acrostic Contest:7/3/14
The infant
in that Isuzu
Doesn't find this
Funny one bit.
Crossing the cul-de-sac
I was even disciplined
for doing so
without guidance.
And to what avail?
Pink berets, tightening
my hair down
into the summer sun.
It was that movie
that perhaps changed
things.
Or was I the
Impostor all along?
BOUND
We’re bound from birth, our path too clear
Conformity reigns, we dare to veer
Play it straight and fall in place
Buckle down, you’ll win the race
Need for expression, no need for that
Everyone needs to wear the same hat
Wander off course or stray from path
You’re ostracized, beware the wrath
Creative types, you know the ones
Their unkempt hair and lack of funds
The artsy crowd without a care
Berets worn black, causeless flair
Yet abstract form and deviceful eye
Radiate light on gray streaked sky
Without free thought we play the fools
We must transcend archaic rules
Linear thinking it has its place
In modern times it makes a case
But if one dares to lose one’s face
I just might love this human race
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