I hate to say that I have some news that's very sad.
We've lost an actress who was named Diane Ladd.
She starred in the 'Alice' sitcom as Belle and in 'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore' as Flo.
Diane starred in over twenty episodes of 'Alice' and she helped to make it a better show.
Everybody who saw her perform can tell you that she was talented.
She was eighty-nine and many people are sad because she's dead.
Her friends, family and fans are very unhappy and they're shedding tears.
She won't ever be forgotten even if the world lasts for 100,000 more years.
[Dedicated to Diane Ladd (1935-2025) who died on November 3, 2025]
Diane Keaton,
among the lives you sweetened,
I find out mine was one,
la-di-da, I am undone.
I walk the distance between us on burning coals
Straddle the high wire between mountains for the
memory of your eyes/blue green
Like the blanket spread over sands
In the wee hours of never, where
Dreams fell like shards of shattered clouds
And I knelt before you spellbound, never
Fathoming the keenness of your lonely
Sad soul/spirit and we left still a
Distance from understanding your woman
Needs, unanswered by everyone
Like a soul song fading so softly
On a night breeze
when he was stupendous,
actually had been horrendous
while she looked luscious
Start everything with when,
while, who, what and would
and will when you will be
writing poems
when they call him Paul
would fall while in shower stall
loves Diane who is a doll
when we named her Sandy
would call her husband Randy
she always had been handy
Randy and Sandy and Paul
with Diane ether actually used
to live our or live here now.
In such occasions where the heart yearns
for your heat how would I recover the
sorrow, the pillow no longer drips with tears
it leaks the yeast of sadness
It drills with grills that has chilly taste of fist
The face I’ve came to known is
disappearing slowly dispersing drifting in a
shallow whipped stream strangely it
strangles the anger of hate I have to carry
that I couldn’t fight for you enough
I couldn’t hold my pinky promise
I couldn’t keep you, let along see you again
I’d wish death upon my dreadful drearily but
this light of your skin reminds me the moon
once covered the sun and all went dark
As little hope the was the fear that each
earth dwellers had was enough to confess
their sins
Since your last text purged my day
I hope the memories that we made
embrace the emotional route it straightened
because it was real not forgery
I somehow wish to stop whipping
I hope I start shifting just to let in the breeze
Your eyelids would forever impair my ability
Ashleigh Ngoqo
Honorable, legendary civil rights pioneer, Diane Nash
A cherished treasure that can't be purchased with cash
A great American. An enduring heroine to the nation
Her fierce activism helped end racial segregation
Date written 11/17/2022
Time Spent With Diane
Like traversing tracks
And jumping the cracks
My time
Spent with Diane
Like jumping some ropes
And sledding down slopes
My time
Spent with Diane
Like skipping some stones
And eating snow cones
My time
Spent with Diane
Like a childhood friend
That never will end
My time
Spent with Diane
This lovely poem is written in honor of my friend.
I will call her Diane, a friend dear to my heart.
It is not her name, but I am retaining her anonymity.
After her husband had an affair, it tore her apart.
This poem is actually in honor of him, the lying, snaking,
thieving flim-flam-flimity.
If I knew his name I would say it, loud and tall.
Both names and his city, outing him nicely, and easily, with femininity.
I have no loyalty or love for him after all.
Slap her, kick her, pinch her, beat her.
Slap her, whack her, kill her, cheater.
Get out of her life, once and for all.
If we friends catch you, you will surely bawl.
You’ve done more than your share, you horrible rounder, you waste of space.
Of hurting a whole family. Your darling children are crying.
Your in-laws pick up the pieces that you have thrown out of place.
She will do much better now, without your cheating and lying.
In Memory of Diane Straus
Huffington Post
Not only will this event be monumental,
It has been designed to be sentimental;
Fine people lover;
Front page cover;
When God accepted her He was gentle.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Phil’s caveman look is very weird
He really should shave off his beard
His mother is right
He looks a strange sight
The Neanderthal look’s to be feared!
Since December Phil’s been hirsute
He needs to give his beard a boot
He’ll cut it off in the sink
But his mum won’t cause a stink
Cos without it he looks real cute!
Poem Posted with Kind permission of Phillip Garcia
To understand the poem please read my comments on Phillip's poem
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/3443_or_t_minus_44_880105
02~26~17
Inspired By In A Perfect World by Diane Christian
Once you do prefect,
It will then become perfect;
Part of perfection.
It must require a certain selection
Of things that appertain to perfection
If perfect is what we want to obtain
God will make us able to stand the strain.
What I have heard from latest scoop
Jesus won't want us to jump through hoop
Or constantly in circles walking around
He waits for us wanting to be found.
There may be many obstacles involved
But with God's help they will be dissolved
While in our prayers He is close and near
Ask and all of your sins will soon disappear.
Faith, hope and love together can alleviate
All sin and hopelessness so full of hate
God high in heaven will be walking there
To share with us His world beyond compare.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran, Poet
and Soothsayer
we are all here for a reason
even those who wonder why
sometimes life makes us laugh
sometimes life makes us cry
but God brought us here for a purpose
and to find his truth
God choose us long before our youth
he knows every plan and every good deed
he knows those who will help others that are in need
every one has a purpose
a life of abundance a life profound
a life in Jesus that can always be found
a life of truth
a life of trust and love
a life freely given to us
from God above
we all fall short of his Glory this we know
but yet he still loves us and
our life has meaning for he told us so .
30/10/15
I can not believe her,
As there alone she sits
Eyes scrutinizing everyone
Moisture on her lips
Her face as hard as iron
Beneath the caked on artifice
She need rely on no one
She is no longer nice
Her very core is blackened
Her eyes, they will not see
The despair that she portrays
As she shuns her purity
A commodity, not a woman
It what she has become
Her only aim survival
A foil for someone's fun
She's just a vacant vessel
To be used again and again
If lucky with affection
Sometimes with numbing pain
Oh, if only someone had loved her
If only someone had cared
Oh poor ravaged face once beautiful
How badly you have fared
Freshness of a breeze within
Mystical lady of all answers
Softly whispers I love you
Wrapped precious present
Her warm wings relax me
Never invited but welcome
Peer the abyss as one
Angel lady, my Mum
She listened to me; sometimes I had to talk all night.
She was my ears when I read late with a forbidden light
And my father’s snores were the signal that all was well,
That we needn’t fear the sudden steps that were his frightening tell.
She watched for me when I ran in the night to break free of the strain;
She waited for me to return back home; she would open the window pane.
She watched and waited and listened and prayed and hoped and gave.
She was my ears, my eyes, my help, my friend, she was so brave.
In later years she became my memory for all of those I lost.
In later years she drifted away and I have always rued the cost.
She was my sister, my person, my touchstone, my courage, my hope.
Her name is Diane.
I pray we meet again.
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