Best Re Enter Poems
My wife may go, but I must stay
My unused ticket in my hand
Her flight is finally underway
The Nazis held my full dossier
The word had come from high command
My wife may go, but I must stay
Our cigarettes within the tray
With lipstick stains upon her brand
Her flight is finally underway
My passport stamped with letter "J"
A clerk is typing - I am banned
My wife may go, but I must stay
One golden earring gone today
The other one tight in my hand
Her flight is finally underway
I lied: "It's just a short delay."
Perhaps one day she'll understand
My wife may go, but I must stay
Her flight is finally underway
November 29, 2014
Notes:
1936 - Jews no longer allowed electrical/optical equipment, bicycles, typewriters or records
1938 - Jews' passports stamped with a red letter 'J'. May not be used to re-enter Germany.
Some have passports removed to prevent them leaving the country.
For complete list see http://www.bl.uk/learning/histcitizen/voices/info/decrees/decrees.html
Oh the Cloud is wonderful
Every thing in it's place
Safe and securely held
There in cyber space.
Please enter your password
To proceed to the store
That may once have been correct
But now it isn't anymore.
Did you forget your password?
Would you like to change it now?
Follow the instructions
Which will show you how.
Enter your new password.
Now enter again to confirm.
Sorry they don't match
They must be the same.
You must choose a password
Not used in the last year
Enter new one in the box
Just down here.
I am a fallible human
My memory come and goes
Have I used this already
Who the heck knows
I resort to gross profanities
Want to scream and shout
Open a window and
Throw my bloody laptop out.
Jump on it and kick it
Break the bloody thing in two
Microsoft and Apple
I hate the pair of you
A deep enduring hate
For the stress and strife
Daily you have added
To my once simple life.
You have no compassion
So long as your PC's sell
If there is any justice
You will all rot in hell.
Your request has timed out
For you took too long
And too many times
You entered data that was wrong
I want to check my Bank Balance
They said it would be fine
Seven levels of security
When you bank on line.
We really don't have
Assets to any great amount
So I really do need regularly
To check my current account
It's all safe and secure
There in cyber space
Everything kept and recorded
In its own proper place.
Please re-enter your password
We will tell you where and when
Did you forget your password
and corruption, here we go again.
Somewhere down the line,
When everything seemed fine,
I slipped and had a fall,
Oh! It was great, not small;
I tried, but couldn't get up,
And was feeling truly fed up,
I asked God with a frown,
"Why did You let me down?"
He smiled gently at me,
And said, "Don't you see?
You are on the wrong road,
The way is way too broad."
I cried loudly with fear,
"How did I end up here?"
"You started on the Narrow Way,
But took diversion the other day."
I knew something was amiss,
But had been lost in temporal bliss;
I'd sinned more than I could count,
Day by day, they seemed to mount.
I wanted to throw that all away,
Return to the good old Narrow Way;
Would God forgive and accept me back,
As I try to re-enter the right track?
Would He embrace an erring child?
So unclean and so defiled?
I repented and asked pardon from God,
Never to enter the way too broad.
He heard my prayer and helped me stand,
I walked back with Him, hand-in-hand.
I realised something that made me wonder--
"If only we are willing to surrender...
Surrender ourselves and our circumstances,
Our God is a God of second chances;
If we let Him take the lead,
He will meet our every need;
He'll guide us in the correct way,
And He'll be our strength and stay."
I looked up at Him and widely smiled,
Wasn't I happy to be called His child?
He nodded and said, "Do sin no more,
Until you reach the other shore."
I promised Him that I would not,
'Cause my life had taken a whole new start.
-----------------------
09.08.2014
(An experience which can happen to any of us in this tempting world)
Hey I'll travel into that computer the one that sees everything..' I will get to know even
more about what's going on in this place..! Ohhh..' there's lots of pulses in here, I think
I shall travel down that hook up there right to where it ends, and see what I find..' OH..I
I can see lots, lots of people on a green bank a big river.. And a quiet reflective feeling all
round, hey they are holding eggs lots of them..' and that youngish man there what's he
saying? hey that's better the volume just went up. It seems...as if.. Yes I am in a camera
lens..' Oh he's speaking again..' So a man of the Pharisees: Nicodemus..' came to Jesus
by night, Rabbi he said we know you were sent by God because no Man could do the signs
you do unless God were with him..' I tell you truly Jesus replied no one can see the kingdom
of God unless he is 'born again' how do you mean teacher Nicodemus questioned.? how can a person be born again?
In this world? Surely one cannot re-enter into their Mother to be born and by now being old..'
Jesus then answered again saying unless a person is born of water and the spirit he cannot
enter the Kingdom of God..! the young man seemed most ernest in his manner, the people
listened intently..' he put down a book? Bible Dumpty could read as he peered closer that he had been quoting from; and held up a large egg..' and said today we celebrate Easter this egg symbolises
the 'new life' you can have in Christ..' This is the time he laid down his earthly life in order
that we can live eternally in heaven with Him..! Dumpty felt full of emotion at these words.'
the symbolism of the egg especially moved him, he thought of 'being born again' of being
'Humpty Dumpty' once more..' as he watched a lot of the people went forward to the man..Saying we will accept him Joe.' So they must know this man Dumpty reasoned' This seemed to really please Joe!
and so they accepted this 'Jesus' still others went into the water and another man plunged them
deep under..' then he raised them up to cheers from all, Dumpty saw all this with
mixed up feelings..'
He thought he had best go back to the Owl; and enquire more about
these things..'
The power of time travel lies
In the laughter of your eyes.
It lifts me up and takes me away
Ten years ago today.
The demons in the past
Fade pale and fast,
As we re-enter childhood
To settle in the land of ‘could’.
But I cry out in fear
For sixteen again dear,
I have a heart to give
And ten hard years to live.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 87, July 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM87COMP.pdf].
"Somewhere over the rainbow we'll play", is baby Ella's clarion call,
Doting Aunt agrees and starts with La Ti Do Re Mi Fa Sol,
Tiny fingers move, full of questions, curiosity, in her wonderland small ,
Busy get the twosome, a session filled with love and music all,
Magnum opus of the duette is soon due to enthrall.
Contest - Personal Memories
Sponsor - Laura Loo
Date- 25/03/2016
Picture #2
re-enter for -Best of LAURA Loos
15/09/2016.
How Many Firsts Can We Find
If Hillary is next President there will be many firsts.
First Presidential Pair to take off in Air Force One.
First Presidential Pair to re-enter White House.
First female president to sign something into law.
First Female President to assign a new member to Supreme Court.
First Female President to bring in her old White House plates and silverware.
First Presidential Pair to have an Easter Egg roll.
First Presidential Pair who has a grand child.
First Presidential Pair to ever sleep together for second time in White House.
First Presidential Pair to watch TV in the White house together.
First Presidential Pair to put up a Christmas Tree together.
What firsts can you think of. Her alone along with them together
will be doing many firsts. Which ones can you name? Jim Horn
Naked to Nurture. Naked, to Nurture.
Why not naked into woods?
We yank up gumboots.
Enshroud our piggies in wicking and itching sockbags.
Hoping to holdfast against the forfeiture of bought heat.
The city slickers in their shiny slickers
clasp and buckle, zip and bundle
before they trudge and trundle
into the Great Unlabeled, the alien birthright.
An undershirt, a tank, a tee, and then an overthing!
And this in Spring, in Summer. Winter's another thickening:
strappings wrapping trappings, coalgulable clottings clogging
scarf-shrouded and unceremonious cerements.
The gloves, if cold or wet. The hat and muffs, if blustering.
We insulate ourselves from the uninsulated.
Remove ourselves from that which we aim to enter.
To re-enter. To be received by. Naked as we came, now
at our peril, apparently apparelled in unparalleled antiferalelry.
Each civilized entrant into sylvan realms-
textile banished for fear of cold,
for fear of wet, for fear of dirt.
The mind must first give up its notions
of propriety to hope to slake the self in the
sunlit and secreted shimmerings of sanctity.
Be bare of sole, skin to wind.
Be bare of soul, Yin to begin.
Why not naked into woods?
they do, so certainly, come naked...
into us.
All is quiet
as I exit through the Emergency Entrance
at the local hospital.
I notice a black T-shirt
with a pink ribbon logo
announcing in bold green script
"No one fights alone"
Due to context
I'm guessing we're talking about fighting cancer;
harm taking us away
from health care giving and receiving
we would all prefer
while walking out of,
rather than lying in,
any Emergency Entrance.
But, I am a theologian
by training
and practical parenting experience,
so I'm thinking,
Why do we not also wear T-shirts
reminding each other
"No one loves alone"
Or even
"No one loves to fight alone"
or even just among ourselves,
within our own households
and habitats.
I ponder my way back to humble Yaris,
with automatic electronic nothing,
and on the radio I hear clusters of fighting themes:
mental illness
domestic violence
gun violence
automated weaponry
military fear and threat stress-testing, enduring, stretching, growing
hazing as baptism through alcohol
depression and repression and suppression
acclimation to chronic climates of terror
and quiet climates of ever more dissonance
lack of healing sleep
anger management
fear mismanagement
mutual assured destruction (MADness)
diplomacy by threat and RightWing arms sales
military industries
applied increasingly to personal and domestic disarray,
local terrors,
households
and habitats
going up in flames
flowing under floods...
No one fights alone
just as no one loves peace alone,
and health
and ecological wealth
and ego-resilience
and eco-systemic balance,
harmony,
synergy.
No one can sustain love
while violently fighting
just as no one can sustain this fight
for climates
and cultures
and ecologies
and theologies of health
by thinking we are
admirable
or somehow credible
or even possible
sorting through
and choosing Love alone.
As I exit my car,
now home,
I think
My T-shirt would probably be too wordy,
No one loves to fight disease
and unease
alone.
Especially not God
or Allah
or Patriotic Loyalty to Earth
or wherever we find our
remember to Love messages.
All is quiet
as I re-enter our home.
I seem to be,
in this moment,
alone.
On the anvil that’s the dorp
The noon-day sun beats down.
So between twelve and two
Life in the place is suspended.
Doors to the stores are ‘toe’
And in their dusty windows cheap
Mannequins sleep with open eyes.
The air is still and heavy.
So in the sparse foliage
Of small pepper trees
Feathered creatures perch,
With beaks agape,
And wings spread wide,
Trying to beat the heat.
At the door to the bar
Of the ‘Royal’ Hotel,
In a sliver of shade,
A mastiff lies panting.
Inside the trade is slow.
Manne on barstools
Nurse brandy-and-coke.
House windows are closed.
In the darkened interiors,
Hidden from sight by
Slatted wooden shutters,
People flop on chairs,
Avoid all movement, in
Attempts to beat the heat.
At two a slight sputter of life.
It is ‘government’ employees
Returning to work.
The magistrate and two clerks
Dawdle back to the court.
The post-master and staff
Re-enter the GPO.
It’s still quiet at the ‘Royal’ Hotel.
With no shoppers the doors
Of the stores remain closed.
Under the shade of pepper trees,
Outside the shuttered Co-op,
And alongside the ‘Prokureur’s,
A bakkie and tractor are parked.
The ‘garage’ is deserted
Save for its two Caltex pumps.
From all sun-baked surfaces.
Hot, dry, and dusty air rises.
So every now and then
The wind-pump in my yard
Creaks as it turns a little.
In school classrooms
Pupils slump on desks.
Teachers no longer teach;
“Lees jul voorgeskrewe boek.”
Two-thirty! At last!
The school-day’s over
And also the worst of the heat.
Now en masse
Pupils scurry out,
Head for home, then
After something to eat
It’s back for athletics
On a grass-free track, or
Tennis on concrete courts.
Eventually the glowering sun
Sends streaks of colour
Across the western sky
As it slowly dips out of sight.
Then when twilight is over
The moon is bright and bathes
The town in silvery hues.
By nine o’clock
It’s cool and still
Save for the flutter of moths
Around the outside lights.
And I lie on a bed
Outside on the stoep
With my dog at my feet.
10
To move forward what would that possibly entail
An idea so strange, that I cannot even conceive
Knowing that I'm lost, still enchanted by your spell
You should consider all this, and consider it well
Maybe one day you'll wake up seeking a reprieve
To move forward what would that possibly entail
In good responsible decisions I hardly ever excel
If I tell you everything once more, will you believe
Knowing that I’m lost, still enchanted by your spell
Somehow I always find a way to make myself fail
Many times it is my very own soul that I deceive
To move forward what would that possibly entail
Without a map leading me, how can I ever set sail
Seeking meaning, but never finding what will relieve
Knowing that I’m lost, still enchanted by your spell
The memories are always a sad never ending tale
For a chance to re-enter life, nothing would I leave
To move forward what would that possible entail
Knowing that I’m lost, still enchanted by your spell
My conscious mind was
Shocked when
I realized I was slamming on my brakes.
There are
Three lanes of solid orange lights,
As far as I can see down the interstate.
A wreck most probably.
We began inching our way uphill, pretending to be socialized.
No one can see anything.
Maybe a trucker, but none of us in cars.
The cars at the top of the next hill are not fighting for lanes yet,
So I wonder how far we are going to inch our way toward our destination.
I call four people.
One is my husband.
Find out what’s happening, I tell him.
My GPS went on the blink this week; it won’t be any help.
Three of the people are co-workers.
I ask them for a favor.
All say yes.
One I have gotten out of bed.
Inch. Inch. Inch. Inch. Inch.
One car pulls out of the right hand lane, and drives like a maniac down the emergency lane.
A Mustang.
Go figure.
We inch our way to the top of the hill
I can now see a non-moving ribbon of orange lights.
My husband calls me.
Nothing on the news yet.
No empathy or patience now, I look for my chance.
Aha! A slow car.
I swerve into the right-hand lane, the one I never use.
We inch forward a few more inches.
Suddenly my car pulls a sharp right.
She and I race down the emergency lane,
Like there are hungry cheetahs after us.
I see flashing red and blue lights to my left
As we exit.
High above on the Interstate bridge
We are at a stoplight, facing an Interstate entrance ramp.
The cars going up this ramp are uninhibited; free to fly,
I watch five cars go up the ramp, ahead of me.
I swear at the light for not changing fast enough.
I marvel at the lack of cars as I re-enter the Interstate.
I am so early, I stop and buy gas.
Amazingly, I am the first car at work,
Beating everyone I called.
I love being an impatient risk taker.
The masked intruder burst through my front door.
While exiting a window, I heard pops.
He missed, but he pursued me as I fled.
Without my cell, I couldn’t call the cops.
Fear moved my legs; prayer led me to a place
to hide. From my safe vantage point I saw
him re-enter my house. He robbed me blind.
I wrote of this when feelings were still raw.
fictional write
68 WORDS--March 6, 2017
written for Laura Loo's What Doesn't Kill Us Contest
I want you at twilight,
in my room.
(Be it under me,
ontop of me)
The thousand faces
of every tooth of your smile
moan hastily,
pant lazily,
pucker,
grin back
at me.
The clouds are shades
the moon pulls over for privacy.
Never again
will there be a
bland
ordinary night.
The pines are rude in the wind
and always
voyerous
as I re-enter
the first breath of life
and you
(the only thing
breathing
to me
this night)
tremble
gently and lovingly
under my touch,
and so rests the world.
Dawn creeps above the dark horizon.
Am I locked in a hazy dream?
An icy chill grips my whole body,
My legs falter in their purpose,
Can I turn back? Can I delete
This horrendous nightmarish dream?
And then, as suddenly as it all began
I see a single moonlight ray
That filtered through the trees above.
The rivers beckon still, but you are here
And sobbing, I fall into your most tender arms.
Your fragrant perfume is like honeydew,
Like a scented breeze that permeates my breath,
Saturating my lost mad soul with sanity.
Suddenly, a warm dulcet haze enveloped me.
Slowly, slowly I turn back,
Slowly, I re-enter my cold bed,
And all my nightmares are dispersed.
At last, I rest in peace.