Best Twenty Three Poems
"A Widow At Twenty Three" Part3
Left alone with a son of three already had buried a child under a tree
Today she had to set a timing for the funerals when they’ll be climbing
The road to the top of the hill where she and her son will stand still
Until a father and husband would be buried.
Why? again why? only yesterday I was still married? What am I going to do?
What do I still have to pass through? Is my destiny just to mourn?
My beloved one’s since I was born?
All these thoughts passed her way while thinking nobody, will ever take my son away.This time, I’ll take my time to decide should I stay? Or depart?
Until that early morning just after a week when her lawyer approached her to speak and informed her how much money Larry had, astonished, she didn’t even look glad as within she never cared!
She would have loved Larry to be healthy than gone and leaving her wealthy.
But she signed Larry’s will and turned looked at the hill felt everything just stood still even the lawn was dry the birds couldn’t fly just stood on the trees
Watching her tears. She turned away bidding Larry farewell where he will always dwell.
Took her son by the hand and just wanted to land on any other land.
At her age and at that stage she was determined to turn the page
Find a new life.
Exquisite rich at twenty four planned to buy a home with carpets all over the floor have a fireplace ready to be lit when she will meet a man whom
she will desire to never love her the same way not to ever have
a monotonous day.
She bought two tickets on a plane dreaming of landing in Spain…..
Where her ancestors once came when she didn’t even have a name.
She bought her beautiful home by the sea waking up each morning feeling completely free at last she was living in Spain and will never have to complain
Of the past she hadn’t even felt it passed.!!!
She quickly put her son in a boarding school that same day she wanted to act like a fool ran to the sea just got wild swimming against the time naked she had nothing to hide no more rules to abide no more tears no more fears
No more dying no more crying starting today my life will be always gay.
Until my very last day.
The End.
Terry
When night came, the cattle bedded down
And the night riders making their rounds
Samuel would take a strole to the chuck wagon
And Cookie would hand him his cup of coffee
As he savored it's taste
He'd check with Cookie to see
If his supplies were holding out
Then find ol' Jack crawl aboard and make another round
The nights of stary bliss
Or winds a blowin strong
The drovers were right there
To keep things from going wrong
The rivers they did cross,
Sometimes took their tole
Little Zeke was lucky to be on hand
He threw Luke a lasso and drug him to dry land
Some cattle were lost
Due to the heat
Some they had to nurse maid
If they got snake bit
The prairie dog towns were dangerous grounds
For horses, cattle or cowboys
Their holes were the cause of many a fall
With broken legs you can't ride a saddle
Nights in the bedroll
Days in the saddle
Day after day
They trailed the cattle
The perils they continue
As the lightening claimed the sun
"I's gots ta watch tha leader
Un hope her don't decides ta run"
"Gabe youse gits tha boys un tow
Case all hell coulds breaks oot"
Said Samuel as he started for his mount
Rope in hand he crawled aboard his eyes upon the cow
Another danger passed they traveled on
The days were getting shorter as the season changed
The grass was beginning to pale
But the cattle still managed to get their fill
They had just crossed the Platt River
And the ground began to move
Grasshoppers by the millions
As far as they could see.
The ground was totally naked
Not a spear of grass was found
And this was where they planned to camp
It was to late to travel on
Cookie banged the pots and pans
Trying to cook bug free
While the cowboys tried to clear the land
Thus their bedrolls to put down"
The cattle stomped
And pawed the ground
They weren't to anxious
Tonight to bed down
"Ain't got no prairie fire worries,"
Bob says to Little Zeke
"Lessen we gits some whar with grass"
And he kicked his horse in the ribs as they entered the pass
A week later they found grass
The cattle were starting to get weak
Samuel called a hault
And all enjoyed the two day break
Renewed the drovers and cattle stepped out refreshed
Two days later the Platt River again came into view.
The leader she began to balk
Samuel put a rope on her and Gabe gave her a whack
As they reached the other side
Some riders topped a ridge
Everyone threw their hats in the air
And holler "Here we is"
Samuel entered the bunkhouse
And to the window he did strole
He looked at the beautiful land
Bowed his head and said "Amen"
Cile Beer
August 17,2010
Through my Magic Window
I see the cowboys on the hill
Trying to convince the cattle
That they have had their fill
"Jist goes ahead un snuff nu blow
Cause ut er a thousan' miles ta go
Bafor youse'll be left un youse own,"
Called out Lester Lowe
"Two thousan' un twenty three a youse long horns
Er in fer a travelin' spell'"
Said Samuel the trail boss as he helped his drovers
Move the drifters to the dell
"This air youse first time,"
He sez to Little Zeke
"Jist keeps um a movin'
Un youse'll be a cowpoke by end a the week.
The first day went fine and Little Zeke did well
The same for day two, day three and four
He breathed a sigh of relief as Bob slapped him on the back
"Youse air uh real cowboy now ma man"
As they rode on
Each day was something like the last
Then the desert dust gave way
To the fresh spring grass
The drovers had to push harder
Trying to keep the herd a moving
When the leader thought she was boss
Samuel and his rope proved that she lost
Grasshoppers in the food
Grasshoppers in your bed
Grasshoppers in your drawers
Grasshoppers on your head
"Boys we's gonna hast ta push um
Tha weathers helpin too
I ain't got no idera how fer it air
Till we's kin find some food"
"Hey Cookie whar air fer breakfast"
Asked Samuel as he reached for his coffee
"What cha thinks Fried Grasshoppers" answered the old cook
Giving Samuel a dirty look
"Heared youse tells tha boys
We's gonna has ta push um"
"That's right gots ta find some grass perty quick
Jist two more weeks un we's 'll be at tha ranch"
A commotion from the herd
Samuel to turn around
The cowboys were already on horseback
Heading for the sound
"Drat it" said Gabe as he entered the herd
"What are wrong," asked Samuel
As he rode up next to Gabe
"Looks like we's gonna has 'nother mouth ta feed"
The calf safely bedded in the supply wagon
Samuel gave the orders to move out
The cattle didn't need to be urged
They headed out in a huge surge
Married 13 days
You break your left leg again
and restart the pain
When I was blonde and twenty-three
The world held open doors for me
The streets would speak, they were my friend
I thought that love would never end
Scarlet lips on sunset kisses
Promised all that passion wishes
Mirror friendly faces glowed
I sought the life I thought was owed
When I was wise and forty two
There were so many things to do
No time for flowers in the park
A pawn on board to make his mark
Future still an open dream
Rising fast to taste the cream
When did clocks leave me behind
Forcing a new path to find
Now, it seems I can’t be seen
A wrinkled package casts no sheen
I miss the days of fancy free
When I was blonde and twenty-three
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Three
Is it true the sun dared cock its eye over the hillocks
Nor did it with affront sink into raging Atlantic docks
Such the glare of armoured headlights singeing the mist-crowned mosque
Though the assembled hosts ogled the Furies with hidden locks
The Faithful knelt with heads humbled down facing best the mihrab
Be it on sidewalks thoroughfares parking lots or slab
Calling out in strength: “Allah! Le Clément et Le Miséricordieux!”
Hundreds of thousands of hungry voices rose in one gift of gab
Faced down by Darling Dears Robo-Cops looked lively about them
When outstepped prayer-full worshippers in composed phlegm –
From out the Chief’s official car rushed the dazed Commandant:
“Tarry yet, Gentle Folk, bid His Holiness to our errand come!”
The Senior Mosque Administrator decked in robes and headgear
Spake out in measured tones grave and strict amid silence dear:
“The Prophet’s Servant hath just now gained his hard-earned quarters
Whence at this very hour breaks the fast with sacred bread pure!”
Bison Futé traffic reporters echoed “panic stations” in tears
Safe for one route leading from Pyrenées to tell-tale Poitiers
Retreat was no longer feasible: bylanes to broadways
Lay clogged with shiny metal and armour-plated zigzag gears.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
I have been counting the days and nights,
23,427 so far,
no two exactly the same
just as no two snowflakes
precisely duplicate a common design structure.
Having received over 23,000 days and nights
to get my act together,
this day, right now,
culminating my entire story line
about how I came to become
communicating
and miscommunicating
and sometimes discommunicating here
and
now as mindful organic bodies must
intend sacred integrity all along
somehow.
Each of those thousands of days
invested in what cannot be purchased
or demanded.
Therapists call this investment in health.
Mom called it love.
Spiritual guides know re-ligious
regenerative
reconnecting integrity's communion intent
as deep mind/body listening wisdom
and divine grace.
Evangelists praise this multisensory thrival experience
of organically sacred communication as goodness
and righteousness
and not unnatural atheistic leftist mess.
Artists name it Beauty
and indigenous Muses
nonverbally
and nonviolently communicate
EarthMother's primal empowering relationship
with FatherSun's enlightenment
as unboundaried
fearless ecological co-relationship
peace-fulfilling re-ligious
SacredMind/OrganicBody trust
in peak communion experiences.
Philosophers call authentic communication Truth;
which is not irreligious discommunicating False.
Economists call community-inclusive win/win co-investment
abundantly resilient cooperative wealth,
what cannot be sufficiently earned
yet can never become overly reinvested,
gifting compassionate communication
pro-actively forward.
Through thousands of high purposed
well-sung days
and deep ecology drifting sifting
wellness dancing nights
no more or less ready for final down payment
than that first invested breath,
23,427 nights ago.
Perhaps a more mature love communication
would prefer I stop counting my impatient
lack of peaceful EarthTribe belonging days.
To stop counting the cost
of irreligious discommunication
at least sounds like a more generously evangelical co-investment
engaging this actively curious
peace-seeking SacredMind/OrganicBody
in perennially recycling love life
No longer counting the days and nights,
no two exactly the same
just as no two mind-full neurosystemic bodies
precisely duplicate a divine design structure.
Flapper Shirley Shively sighed and thought, how could she?
She'd love to do that hootchie-kootchie dance, but would she?
Though the boys she loved to tease,
She was, sadly, quite obese.
Surely Shirley Shively shouldn't shimmy, should she?
Welcome friends, time for an education
let's digest what Mark 9:23 is;
"...all's possible," even for your imagination
"...just believe," and you won't miss.
You see, Jesus told this young man
that all's possible if he can believe;
just keep your prayers ready at hand
even if you want to visit the Tel Aviv.
See, believing isn't just saying "I believe",
one must visualise, conceptualise too;
talking about it, like a well placed kiss
then pray everyday as you happen to do.
So browse thru' your Bible, or go thus online
seek the passages that God has prepared;
find the right Word that fancies your mind
memorise them, like a finely fit hat.
* Mark 9:23 states:
Jesus said to him, "If you can believe,
all things are possible to him who believes."
Amen.
Zeina, Zeina,
Where you be?
Tryin' to find you before,
I get to twenty-three
Wonder how many breaths we take in a day
So I looked it up and here's what they say
23,000 is the big number
8.5 million a year, what wonder
Roughly 675 million if you live to eighty
(at 82 I'm working on 692m)
Dream with the power of one thousand Moons..