Keeto the apple of my eye,
Centre of attraction, smart yet shy,
The little diamond - handsome and naughty,
A new milestone- my baby prince turns 40!
Creeping into mom and my heart,
Always loved and admired though far apart,
Champion in golf, colorful in art,
Keeto! My little star is class apart!!
Full of empathy and very humble,
Smart and stunning, yet so simple,
With soft blue eyes that always sparkle,
With a cute smile he flashes those dimples!
Exemplary and radiant like the sun,
Keeto my precious gem is second to none,
Versatile and talented rolled into one,
Admired, cherished, adored & envied by everyone.
Born from my heart, to my mum he is a son,
Shining bright like the midnight sun ,
He is a superstar, pumpkin photo award he won,
He is extra ordinary , my scottish little one..
Reaching a new milestone, on a new journey he embarks,
Leaving his footprints on different landmarks,
With exuberance he defines benchmarks,
Well aware ,CEO position for him is earmarked
On his Ruby Jubilee today,
Mom and Rima from far away,
From our hearts where he stays,
We shout loud Keeto Happy Birthday!!!
They are
The pages of an old love story
Earmarked, faded yellow,
Moments underlined
Highlighted in life’s colors
The words are still clear
Feelings vibrant
Hint of mystery
A “chance” meeting
A sly whisper
A stolen kiss
Never returned
The story
A non-fiction homage
To love’s tenacity
A roller coaster ride
Shrieks of laughter
Silent tears
A soft wind riffles the pages
As they walk, slowly
Hand in hand
Quoting their favorite lines
From the pages
Of an old love story
I called to the hills, but my echo was still.
Swallowed up in the hush of a silent chill.
Why has my echo failed to return?
Why do the hills spurn my yearn?
Where has it gone, for someone else to hear?
The sound of my echo in a stranger's ear.
How will they know to whom it's from?
Be overcome, or be dispelled as a humdrum crumb?
Oh I wish my echoes would be marked
'unclaimed', 'undelivered' and earmarked
'returned to sender', 'no such phone',
'no such number', 'no such home'.
For echoes are meant to be returned,
Not lost, churned and left forever spurned.
Boldly,
No other word will do,
For the way you forge
Into your life
Each day.
Steps I take to follow
Slow,
With trepidation.
Earmarked with caution,
Riddled with fear.
An extra skin
Carried so long,
A hardened shell,
Baked by the heat
Of a thousand
Silent stares,
Doubting me,
Until
I doubt myself.
You,
The inspiration,
The light,
That will guide me,
Free me,
From the prison
Of
Indecision.
The Glorious Mountain
The mountain on the other side of the bay
was born before colors were invented
and introduced to make the world jollier
a place for humanity to relax and love
This mountain, however, has three basic
colors, black, gray, and snow white
if these shades had not been there
the hill would have been unseen
a shimmer of morning light to avoid
accident, it would have had to be painted
every four years or when the town had
money not earmarked for child care
The mountain is no place for a Sunday stroll
thousands of seabirds have made it slippery
the grass has gone, over-fertilized
that tells us, that health has its limitation
Where the mountain meets the ocean
crustaceans are the size of drop-dead dolphins
one lobster can feed a family of five
The mountain's bleak exterior has a hidden
beauty and looks glorious at sunset
Theres a volume out now on everyday life, by an ex border
Patroller and its 'all about the strife' of whats happening in Chicago? where
Al was chased and taxed, theres invasion it says' and
The limits are all out-maxed..!It talks of replacement of
A city's black souls, yet three billion dollars earmarked for venezualens 'in the hold?' of the mayor and his servants.
Waiting to be spent, on the next stage of their journey up
From a city of tents, it makes grim reading i'd say from
What I've heard..Seems like the everyday Americans are
Being driven out like a herd..Now I think i've come across that
Term before.? Like in a plan oft derided.' Gets me wondering even more.
On what has really been decided.??
Get yourself pick up find a pen
And so then begin to write an open
letter
Place it inside a bottle
Earmarked for heaven
Then send it lovingly floating on its way
In the hope of expectedly
Heaven will one day somehow R.S.V.P
With a personal invitation in tow
From God himself wanting you to know
He has personally saved and is keeping
warm a V.I.P space beside him especially
just for you
Because he loves you so
And this is your final reward in
recognition
Of what he defines as a good selfless
life spent in servitude actually really
means and amounts to
Rather than just idly following what
you are told
What is right but quite patently is not
in fact is wrong
Bye the so called human keepers of
the faith
Who present themselves as the key
holders and gatekeeper's of heaven
BEYOND THE HORIZON
Across calm waters
Where sky meets sea,
This world's bonds encompass we.
Beyond,now out of view,
A better place---
A realm,for the ransomed free,
With room,earmarked for thee?
Note:(ichthys), or XIesoûs Khristós, Theoû Huiós, Sot?r;translates into English as 'Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior'
Plates
get broken;
Sometimes hearts do too,
shattering into pieces;
Feel;
Heal;
Sometimes faces leave traces;
Accept the fixed scars;
Choice earmarked
parts.
Final Tribute
(for the Last Caesar)
Give the annual percentile amount
of your iron-copper gathering
The yearly brow liquidity
is required by the silver arm of vexation
Hemoglobin promissory is handed
to the seated image stamped on the penny
Spinal rein acquiescence,
bent will to the usury yield is mandatory
Because the last Caesar said make it so
The coins are jingo collected,
earmarked primarily for a military preference
Give ad infinitum;
blood, sweat and tears
is the required sum
Profess fiscal fealty to the feudal lord
of a monetary divided land
Take a sharecropper stand,
a servile oath of stained cloth submission
What is the scarlet vow protection condition?
Pay the final tribute
with the parting of your farthing soul
Give with mint-scented breath,
(a legion air of pleb compliance)
the placid portion of patriotic cuckold
Pocket pawns ask only for golden liberty,
to debt pursue life, love and happiness
With deep tributary lender lament,
the last Caesar said belay that request
09-14-21
W elcome September, let’s put summer 2020 far behind us
E lusive dreams we had deep down never coming to fruition
L et disenchantment fade with the relentless tides of time
C andid wishes in their simplicity gone abysmally ungranted
O bsolete imagery in a vacant world of paltry fantasy
M eager appetite for adventures aligned with social distancing
E xtraverts experimenting to eliminate emphatically this epidemic
S eptember come and turn the page on gruesome covid memories
E choes of resounding hope set free for better days ahead
P lay loud cheers so for a minute we can forget that this is far from over
T antalize us by boldly flaunting your joyful flamboyant autumn colors
E xtenuating visions of a distant future we can only dream of
M anifestations of answered prayers hovering within reach
B ackhanded boost of incentives thrust in the right direction
E nticing editorialized expressions earmarked for entrapped earthlings
R attled and receptive to any relevant rationale rambled to restore reality
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 20, 2020 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (13) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
It's a list,
a simple one as you will see
the list identifying me;
a shelf of books
intended to be read,
a bible
worn and weathered by the bed,
a lined blank book
awaiting inspiration to be fed;
a curled up dog
snuggled and content;
a birthday card
waiting to be sent;
a calendar earmarked
with meetings and plans well spent;
an album filled with memories
pictures marking my history;
a prayer whispered on the wind
remember me and how wonderful
my life has been.
7/24/2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Dear Heart
I’m a unique specimen,
made of mescaline and ketamine.
And the last living resident,
of an intergalactic settlement.
Burnt to the ground,
by time travelling middlemen.
I came with the cannon,
aiming only to try and bury them.
And when I aim for their president,
I will not miss my friend.
Now I’ve done the job,
I will disappear again.
Like the last living remanence,
of a long forgotten culture.
Disappeared too quickly,
picked at by the vultures.
Bones into dust,
Picked up by the wind.
And we never knew the story,
cause we’re never taught a thing.
Meet the psychedelic poet,
trying to live stoic.
He’s earmarked for death,
and he doesn’t even know it.
I’ve met alcoholic authors,
with bongs in their hands.
Staring out of the windows,
cause they’re awfully prang.
I remember nights doing pipes,
but now my mind is sober.
But eternally restless,
seeking some final closure.
The makeshift king,
searching for the evidence.
I am seeking refuge
And my mind needs the medicine.
Alaska's Highway To Nowhere
Unattainable goals are like dead-end roads;
Though lofty: a waste of time, effort, and money.
Grandiose in scale and impressive to construct,
The bridge to nowhere promised prosperity;
Whose idea was that?
Pork Barrel funding at its finest!
Earmarked in 2005
With a four hundred million dollar price tag,
To replace the ferry service across the Tongass Narrows,
Challenges the mind, “Whatever for?”
From Ketchikan, Alaska
To Gravina Island:
A community of 50 residents and an airport;
That became a major talking point
During the 2008 presidential election.
Through the Alaskan frontier,
A road follows the isle’s coastline
For three point two miles,
Then, the Gravina Island Highway ends
Where a bridge should connect, but doesn’t exist.
If my phone can reach your throne,
It is my heart who sent him.
He( my heart )is playing strings and singing soulful songs
If you can hear the words, my tongue had genuflected before you.
By a unanimous decision of my entire being,
The lord is mighty
When he breathes, mansions of burdens collapse.
When he sighs, waves of captivities lay humbly at the shore.
When he lifts his hand, dunes and mountains of oppression lapse.
His words are thunderstorms that rumble and make the lion forget to roar
The lord owns wisdom.
Philosophers can't fathom his presence,
Thus some say he's absent.
Wisdom thinks about his excellence
Researchers have given up on methodologies earmarked to trace his thoughts.
The Lord is wonderful.
He never made mention of operation tools during creation.
Yet on the first man he performed an operation.
An operation which brought forth his rib (Eve)
Oh! His deeds had even brought my hand to a stand still.
?
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