A cold northwesterly breeze
Whips the nearly naked trees
A few pecans still tip the top
Unreachable by squirrels
Even if they hop
That summer of 1969 in Venice still resonates within me...
A Slovak boy, Mario, and an Italian girl, Laura – fourteen and thirteen years old.
She had long chestnut hair and captivating eyes…
We sat on a bank by a bridge in the evening,
while illuminated boats floating on the lagoon.
The song Sotto le stelle, Beneath the Stars, played from a nearby bar.
I listened with amazement to that melodic speech, watching her charming gestures.
I didn't understand a word, yet I felt a blissful warmth in my heart...
Suddenly, heavy rain began to fall; Laura gave me a quick kiss on the cheek
and vanished under the arcade of a weathered building.
Just then, a shooting star fell...
I have carried the imprint of her lips in my heart all my life.
She didn't walk the way the world expected
None could guess what storm she had weathered
She moved and moved and never stopped
And her every footstep was strong and bold.
With a body that has carved its own battles
Adversity could not shake her firmness
She carried none of its sting and bitterness
But joyfully shared only smiles and sweetness.
While we speak of limits and constraints
She spoke of immense possibilities
Always exploring her potentialities
And lived them as graceful entities.
She refused any act of sympathy
And spurned faint token of empathy
All the time stood firmly saying no to pity
Predictably preferred the ground of dignity.
Legacy of self-dependency and dignity she sowed.
In her life journey all along, she has proved
That Power and strength are not measured
in strides but in the grit and spirit imbued.
brewing burlington bunny blunted
cockamamy communications caliculus
his hemisphere her hector
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 17–23, 2026)
Few but the blind,
Can see the alternatives,
And the few who can see like the blind,
Often find themselves in a bind,
When offering alternatives to the many who are not blind,
But keep their blinkers on,
Making it difficult to see they are not using their scone,
To prevent them walking into an alley that is blind,
Where only few but the blind can see their way clear,
To breathe in some fresh air
To avoid waking up blind to alternatives
That are open, only to those who use their initiatives.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ today
A leaf I tear;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
Without a care.
And ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gentleness of June
Will ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ fly
¦¦¦ I will greet the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ moon
Of ¦¦¦¦ July.
Beloved months ¦¦¦ soon ¦¦¦ pass,
¦¦¦¦¦ I see
The ¦¦¦¦ sand silvering the glass
Of Time for me;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ midwinter woe
I wait with rue,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I grudge the days ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
They are so few.
A ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gayful thing
To grace a room;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ with joy of life I sing,
With ¦¦¦¦¦¦ gloom
I add this ¦¦¦¦¦ month of May
To ¦¦¦¦¦¦ past,
Thinking each page ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
May be my last.
(Blackout of My Calendar by Robert William Service)
Cooked, ready to eat
April 2027, we meet
The 2026 Finance Bill
A new order, bitter pill
With it you are tracked
Affairs, neatly packed
Taxed here and there
To them, you must be fair
The reverse doesn't hold
Not belonging to the fold
You produce, they don't
Work like you, they won't
Order the world, anew
To benefit just a few
Cannon fodder, the rest
To the front line, the best
To encapsulate meaning
With words so few
Is like the magnitude behind
"I love you"
For some it's simple,
Yet again,
I impulsively
Over explain!
A few more screws loose, some buttons missing
forgetful more often than not
Some days better, most days worse
just part of the prep for casket and hearse
By Phan Tan Hai
Writing a few lines of calligraphy,
praising the Blessed One—
the ink spreads like tears,
soaking gratitude deep into the soul.
Writing a few lines of calligraphy,
an offering to Thay of Plum Village;
lifting my head, I hear a crane’s cry
calling someone’s name across the sky.
From these few lines of calligraphy,
the strokes turn into a forest of flowers,
fragrancing each verse with sweetness—
the whole sky singing Dharma songs.
--- Dedication to Thay Nhat Hanh
All of these questions circle round in my head
they are the barriers that keep me from bed.
Sat here before you, I’ll lay it all on the table
keep me from guessing, if you are able.
How long will it be, till the chosen one is me?
Are there roses just around the corner?
What is his name? Does he diminish my pain?
Are we bonded, but not by trauma?
Do you see an office, adorned with high profit or at least a better place to be?
Will I stop feeling that I’m watching the ceiling and waiting for it to collapse, on me?
Can you diagnose wealth, or even good health?
Do I get a place in everyone’s race or will I forever be miles behind?
All I need, just a few promises that what once was dull, will shine.
Will I get that something that I can call mine?
Will the clock stop racing and I’ll finally have time?
Will it just hit me, one day, all at once?
Or need I be patient, wait for years that were months?
As much as I know, it’s the seeds that I’ll sow
that will allow me to escape wilted blooms,
I just need an inkling of your wishful thinking so I can expect a change of tune.
a man of few words~ can’t be an Irishman
THE FEW THAT FIGHT
Just the wish of a winsome child for love
and peace in the world,
a sentiment shared deep in the heart of
every boy and girl.
No one escapes the reality of a cruel and
unjust world.
Many a child's innocent smiles get willfully
unfurled.
There are those few that wouldn't comply,
rose above, or never knew.
They fight to the death, beating their chest,
standing for the few.
They altercate the status quo, injustice,
and cruelty too.
For the gullible, incapable and those with
out a clue.
newspaper report
Malibu, California
August 10th, 2025
mountain lion bites eleven-year-old girl
bites?
not mauls?
bites?
not kills?
I think the reporter left out a few things.
The girl was at her chicken coop
she began screaming
Her mother and a sibling came out with a stun gun
they stunned the mountain lion
the wildlife people responded, finding it hiding.
They shot it dead
How many people hear screaming and run outside with a stun gun?
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