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Long poem by Dorian Petersen Potter | Details

The Boys Get In Trouble Again - The Narrative Style

~The Boys Get In Trouble Again~Part 1- 
(A Narrative poem) 


 
Beth! Beth! Almanzo called out aloud for Laura upon entering their home., very late that afternoon, after so many long hours of work, since very early morning that day. 
I'm right here, in the kitchen, Manly.' 'I'm telling you Beth, I don't know what to do with those boys anymore.' they're driving me again crazy. 
I should had been more firm with them from day one and then maybe we wouldn't be having this situation now.Everytime we let them come to spend some time with us. 
It's like they keep on doing the same darn thing, that they did last time and that they have promised not to repeat. 

 Just look at this mess they did this time, Beth. Almanzo said to Laura,thrusting her way something on the floorboards, what it looked like ugly pieces of old rags,all wrapped up around a burnt piece of blackened stick. 
Laura jumped back so quickly and startled by it that she nearly lost her balance, in her failed intent of regaining her composure again. 
But just as soon she regained her balance and leaned forward very close to inspect and collect what Almanzo had brought in for her to see. 
Oh no! Manly, don't tell me this is what I think it is, she told Manly, all the while nodding her head in disbelief. 

Yes, it is Beth, and please this time you have to agree with me that they have to be punished. 
Oh Manly! I can't believe what they've done this time. This is really just to much. 
One thing is to get the scarecrow down and play with it a little bit for a while. 
But another one is to use it as a pinata and then burned it just like a piece of coal. 
They just can't continue doing things like this Beth,to us or anyone, Almanzo said to Laura. 
We have to stop them now, or next time they will hurt themselves very bad or next time they'll burn the stable or the whole house down. 
We have to talk to them right now and make them see how bad they've behaved and that they can't continue getting away with murder. 

Almanzo reached out for Laura who was very upset too by now,just thinking that the boys could have gotten really hurt this time, doing what they've done. 
I am so sorry Manly, I know how much you were hopping that the boys could have behaved this time around. 
Yes, I know Beth, I feel like a total fool for believing in them like I did for the last 2 days. 
Another thing Beth, remind me later of replacing that  scarecrow for another. 
We just can't afford having none in its intead out there in the fields, to protect our crop of corn. 
By the way I assume you know where the boys are right now, don't you Beth? 

I don't know for sure, Manly, but I just spotted them outside like an hour ago.They were laughing and playing hide and seek nearby the creek and told them to be careful. 
I'll just go outside and bring them in,and they have to answer for what they've done this time,it's getting kind of dark by now anyway. 
They should have been in by now, as they know we always expect them to do,when they're staying with us. 
Almanzo let go of Laura and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.Well, I better go now and find those naughty boys and bring them home. 
Don't worry Beth.I know what you must be thinking inside that little head of yours.You're thinking I am going to be very hard on those two, isn't it? 

Well, can you blame it, if I was at least for once this time? what they've done it's very bad, serious and very dangerous too. 
You see that,by now, don't you, Beth? Almanzo asked Laura.I know this time you have to agree with me about the boys.I hope you help me find the right punishment for both of them. 
I see you in a little while, Beth.'Oh Manly, just promised me that you won't scare the boys, or be too hard on them when you first see them. 
Can you at least promise me that now, so I can have a sigh of relief.Almanzo just smiled her back and said to Laura, ' I can't promise you that right now, Beth. 

I am sorry.The only thing i can promise you,is that I will try very hard and that you'll see them both again around supper time.Okay. Almanzo just gave her one of his smiles. 
Saying that he just turned away from her, and stepped out through the kitchen door, without looking back.Laura just stared back at Manly, rubbing her hands back and forth. 
She was so worried about Manly and the boys.Manly had been working so hard of late and was having some problems at the mill. Since Pa had left with her Ma. 
They had left both together for a little deserved vacation to California.A place they've visited it only for a second time since Albert had moved away. 


They have some good friends in San Francisco and they got an early invitation to go and stay with them for a while, at least a couple of weeks. 
Who knows they might change their mind and stay for a little longer than that, perhaps the whole month. 
She hoped they would, even when she missed them so much already. they have been gone only 3 days, but it seemed to her, like they have been gone for a whole year already. 
They both needed some time together to enjoy and have some fun, far away from home, and Walnut Grove, a place that held for them so many good and bad memories at the same time. 


They've done all their life all the best they could.Now it was the time for them to benefit of some of what they both have worked so hard. 
Pa have asked Manly to look after the Mill for him, while he was away,and Manly of course could never say no to her Pa. 
At least most of the time he couldn't or just he didn't want to, and at the thought of that she couldn't help but smile too. 


Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 
copyright@2005 



March.29.2017


“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” 
- Mark Twain- 




Author Note: Just a Narrative poem or short story that I've written inspired by some of the beloved characters of Little House In The Prairie  TV series and books.~ 


This story continues  in 'The Boys Get In Trouble Again' part 2 ' 



Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details

FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

                                              
                                               FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE

  (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                                   an 
                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing


                                                               (His Story)
                                                              

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous
                                                            tho' hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase


                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                                      Glow--
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details

A Free-Verse Epic

Thus it begins—
A free-verse epic
Into the mind of
A writer and an idiot—
A romantic and, 
Often a pessimist
Conjoined in arbitrary glory
Are the thoughts and words 
Of one overly-worked mind—
Charismatic and, of course,
On the pushover, pitiful
And usually kind side
Ambitious and awkward,
Dark and daring
With the predisposition 
Of neglect and doubt
Mixed with notions of
Unattractiveness and pride of it
The strain of freedom 
Chips the mind of
A flawful perfectionist,
And though she sees color 
And she sees injustice
And all things that most see, 
Perhaps she deems it right
To try and see differently

I am not opposed to uniform
I am not opposed to meter form
Though can this heart beat
In perfect syllables and rhythm
As—let’s say—the great form
Of iambic pentameter! 
I say, prospectively—
If your drum wants to beat 
To that rhythm,
Then by all means
Allow it reign 

But as for me,
I shall let mess be purpose
And purpose gives me surety
That these fragments—
These thoughts,
Will prove worthy
For, after all, 
What are a few words worth,
If in the end they shan’t
Be read? 
Will a writer write for himself, 
Or for the world, 
To witness and appreciate
His inner dimensions?   
Will an idiot acknowledge his stupidity,
Or shall he remain valuable 
Through his own foggy lens?
Will the weight of the world 
Crack his vision,
And lead him to regions
He knows not of?
I have seen the great
Reduced to dust
By the mere vocals of another
I have listened to the 
Relentless cries of the pessimist
And the warm, trickling rays
Of the romantic—
Yet do they see a purpose
In their unique expressions?
Do they feel their beats and rhythms,
And own to the bone what is theirs?  

To be charismatic in words,
But not in nature 
Is a mystery of me
How can I find words to write
With scarcely words to utter? 
I enter dark terrain 
Through rapid fires of thought
They push me to remain
Different and strained
Is there a part of us hidden, 
That in shame is revealed unknowingly
Through our inimitable passions? 
Are our actions snail-paced
When faced with the probability
Of judgement? 
Why then do these words flow free,
With the heavy chance 
Of failure?
Failure perhaps seen by others,
But prominent and bent 
Into yourself?
In the air you breathe
You know your shortcomings
Before others utter your deed
And yet, 
I find glory in a trip
I feel contentment in the fall
Leaves change and crumble
Just as hope fades and returns

Likely I am lost in doubt,
Waiting for a purpose
Made for something better
Expecting the worst
I am unafraid to tread
On the moss
With a friend’s laughter
Only a memory igniting 
Bitterness
Sadness
Why does she never talk?
Have I drifted from all thought? 
I remember happiness, 
Yet I war
I am perpetually lost in the laugh
Waiting to see a smile spring again
I liked the texture between my toes
Green, weird, and wet
I liked being vulgar
And not being afraid
A bee has never stung me
As your absence does
A monster has never scared me
As my heart scares you

There’s a chance I will break
A chance that life means nothing
Thoughts spurt energy
Trust burns holes
Expectations rise into rage
When what meets us 
Is an opposite fate 
We want to receive the expected
And scorn the unexpected
To jeer the underdog
And take glory from heroes
Be needed by the popular
And kill the weak with our pride
What is so repellent 
About being different? 
Do we need to agree on everything?
The phoenix does not burn for you
It is scorched eons times over
Because of who it is
It burns to birth its existence
Over and over and over and over and over and over
And yet we persist that 
We have started the flames!
Does the world revolve around
Your igniting pig-head? 
Do we care where you 
Got the boot that you use
To kick down your fellow man?
I have a flip-flop for your face
And more
Don’t disgrace me 
With your false grace!

I saw a college guy
Stop in the walkway
He paused and stared at the floor
He snatched a leaf off
The ground, and proceeded
To move a piece of poop
Away from the middle of the pathway
The flimsy leaf didn’t get the job done
So he grabs a small stick
And moves the shit off to the side 
I thought of him
As someone I would like to know
He was considerate,
He seemed kind,
Or perhaps he was just a neat-freak—
Either way,
I feel like he was raised well
I thought about myself—
If I were walking down the same path,
Would I ever look down?
Would I even notice the clump of shit?
And if I did,
Would I continue on?
Or would I be like that guy,
And move it aside?
I think I probably wouldn’t,  
Though now that I have witnessed
This simple act,
I might just do it
The next time shit gives me the opportunity

I want to be caring,
I want to be considerate,
I strive to be kind—
For what use is it to be cold
And withdrawn?
Is the fear too strong
As to hold me back
From what is right?
I certainly hope nobility
Wins
But we cannot stop it there
You cannot expect anything
Merely DO it
And minds—actions
Are probable to alter, 
Just as mine has
But I am not everyone—
I am the only one
Who witnessed the meritable act
Perhaps my job now 
Is to pass it on
 

Note: 
I guess this could be categorized as a free-verse epic, hence the title..XD This poem was written in my journal throughout a couple of days during my Creative Writing course in Pasadena. It is really just a trickle of random thoughts, that I thought had some merit and was worthy of sharing with you guys. Hope you enjoyed it.

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Balveen Cheema | Details

Mother Of The Age



Stately stood Princess Amber in all her finery,
Emerald tunic over a crimson gown,
With gems inlaid in her rustling gown,
Her arms bangled in intricate gold slowly rose,
Her slender fingers rested on her heaving bosom,
Listening to unstopping drum-beats of her heart.
Her  breath clung to the heavy nose ring,
Beads of perspiration made damp
The adorned golden wreath on her tense filled brow.
Her curtained eyes rose to show the fires ablaze,
A voice so tumultuous never heard before
Anguished the gems in Jalal-ud-din's court 
To hear their silent queen speak so.
Born am I of noble Rajput parents,
My father named me Heer Kunwari- a pearl,
Was married into a Mughal family without much disdain.
Served I in nature true,
Does a Mughal king know not  
Of virtues imbibed by a Rajput  princess?
Brought up was I in Amber palace,
My mother bred me with values 
Both spiritual and bold,
Jump we into the pyre before being disgraced,
Honour be the seal of a Rajput maid,
This thou shoulds't have known before thou wedded me, My Sire!
And accuse you my Lord of my infidelity?
Never come close to a Rajput maiden
And hence remain from my shadow afar
Thoughts of a Mughal King are tarred and defiled,
I return to my kingdom for the dishonour bestowed.
Yet the truth be unraveled of your wet mother dear,
The milk you drank was of not of human kindness for sure,
Flowing in your veins is your wet-mothers venom,
Your wisdom poisoned  was not of your mother's,
There be a difference between a mother and a wet mother.
My brother was it that visited me in fear,
My forged letter to him was sent
That his sister in distress had pleaded him near.
In hiding is he from enemies around
Under the shroud of darkness
Came he to rescue his sister hence.
The treachery hatched  by your mother foster
In envy is she of your wife now ignobled.
Banished have you me from my wedded abode
Nor asked me of my crime in courtroom fenced
Why question not your soul of justice denied?
Out of my heart you walk thence,
Enter I into the shelter of my father loyal
My heart pierced with arrows immense,
Sail I to home for being slandered thus.
Free am I of being concubined in your Mughal walls
The knight I was bethroded to was never  mine
Belonged he to the  faith of his venomous milk.
Proved thou once again the woman be at fault and not the I.
Queen Salima the Innocent was suspected so
For being with a man she never had ever seen before
Pined she for you in your Palace  of Love.
I no Salima to take my life
In the eyes of my father will I remain a lustrous pearl.
Suspicion above truth be your manly tribe
Honour above dishonour be a woman's pride.
I a Rajput princess forever be
Live I in pride for I were true
Live thou in guilt for justice denied.
The kingdom of God not await for thee
Time will come for a woman to rise.
Princess Amber followed by her Rajput entourage 
Seated she in her bridal palanquin
Burning cheeks and eyes so cold
Ruddier drops had never been shown.
Coloured veils rising with the deserty billows
Of her ladies in waiting with tear filled eyes.
Silence entombed  her Amber chambers 
No question asked by father dear,
Trusted he the virtues of his daughter beloved
In her mother's warmth she remained embraced
To happier familial joys for the seasons to  see.
Jalal-ud-din's ears roared again and again
His weakened ears were his enemy true,
Won he a battle to all was known,
Losing the home ground to all was shown,
Turned he to ashes by his queen so new. 
Strode he in anger to his foster mother's abode
Followed was he by marching soldiers 
Spears in hand and daggered girdles,
Barging into the chamber of his mother wet
Huddled in fear of Jalal-ud-din's anger
Knelt down she as Yamuna doubly flooded 
Pleading mercy with joined palms cracked
Thundered Jalal-ud-din with anger renewed
Take the woman to her empty world
Fettered in chains her dungeon be,
No man no woman her companion be
Till her last breaths no mercy receive.
Heralded aloud in Jalal-ud-din's kingdom
The banished queen to her throne doth return.
The soldiers ready in their array full
The stallion royal neighed at his dazzling adornments
Saddled in jade and dotted gold,
Coloured festoons and brassy jingles
Galloped he in  hooving a sandy cloud
Scalloped eyes stood still only at Amber court.
Snowy doves on arches watched
The lungs so full as trumpeters blew,
The castle bedecked at glorified romance 
The gypsy dancers in flaring skirts
Dancing in chorus to their emperor new,
Smearing his brow with vermilion holy
Marigolds perfumed under the feet of their trodden king.
Touched he the feet of his Amber parents
Blessed was he of his auspicious return
Escorted regally to the princess' chamber
Silence pervaded after chamberlains departed.
Knelt he before the royal princess
With folded hands and drooping head
The belittled princess with a heart so torn
Bent she down to her humbled king
Moistened eyes and ruby lips
She clutched his feverish hands 
And bespoke, rise Great Mughal King
Hence reign in your kingdom great,
With knowledge fully acknowledged.
Suspicion soon aroused is wilfully pertained
Close proximity to peace be unblinded justice.
Jalal-ud-din Akbar with glistening brow
Rose tall to the stature of his pearly queen
Heer Kunwari were you born, your father's pearl 
Crown I you Mariam-uz-Zamani, Mother Of the Age.
Rule you my world in equal voice
Justice be enthroned in the voices of kings.



Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 26

From that day on and forward,
I began to see the wretchedness my God had warned me of
He cursed the Lord wholeheartedly, for inflicting yet another agony on him,
In his well he called The Prison of Plot,
He spat the grounds and laughed at random intervals,
Then the next moment, screaming at the top of his lungs in sheer madness
Dragging his face on the walls of the well, he gurgled, and growled,
He bared his teeth at his gargoyles,
And grinned the next moment, 
So tickled by the fact that none knew his thoughts,
Simultaneously so angered that none could stand before him,
And claim they knew his inner commotions,
His secret knowledges, and his accelerating vastness of existence
And to exist in his presence! 
To witness his every move,
Should bring one to incomprehensible awe
Perhaps he knew not at that moment that I recognized well his excruciating prides
And his fervent, wholly selfish frustrations. . . . 

This was the devil I had thought I knew,
This thrashing beast, full of darkness and hatred,
Spitting obscenities at his minions,
Laughing at their impotence….
This was the devil I was sure I would find here….
Back then,
Suffering as I was
A pitiful thing
Afraid of the dark,
Hesitant of the light….

Cross-legged on the floor,
I lowered my head,
Deep in the recesses of my hopes
I could not bring myself to sing,
So I prayed ardently for joy to sprout,
Prayed for the secret strength I know existed,
Within me, and the Prince. . .
If not in him alone,
We together…

But his cause was not lost in my sight,
Nor in my bleeding heart, 
No matter the ache of his hatred,
Or the burns of his insults against me

“I may be bound in the chains of your righteous God,” Muttered the mighty Devil,
Spitting violently on the steaming grounds,
“Though rest assured, I hear all, e’en your despondent thoughts….
Your restless fears….your doubt of yourself….birthed from the recalcitrant womb of evil,
I am not ashamed, oh Spirit, oh temptress, and you should not be either!”  

“Please…” 
The word fell from my mouth like a droplet of rain,
Evaporating to steam before hitting the ground

He laughed deep and darkly, locking eyes with me
“You will find no softness to either end of this sword,
Nor to the future you deny available to you,
Can you not see that you are here,
For one purpose, and one purpose only,
Not only to understand me—no it cannot be,
You wish to save me!!!” 
He laughed louder, the well booming with his voice,
Running through me and surrounding me
“You wish to save me
From the decision etched in stone
Fire-searing, unmovable decisions
Vowed from the natures you dare to change!
You have come to change me—yet
Again, I only change you!
With the same idea of saving what you think you have lost!
I have not changed one bit,
Perhaps the snake hides its plot,
Perhaps the dragon possessively protects its plunder,
You are the only one changing before me
I just wait for you—for you to abandon reason,
To abandon thought, to let descend your wildest dream,
The very dream that brought you here to me
The very dream that lives in your incomparable mind….”

His words were laced with satirical ire, 
And saturated in kaleidoscopic pains only one with access to light could witness 

“You await the sound of my voice,” I began,
“You await the shape of my words,
Every vowel and every consonant,
So that you may tear it apart in your matchless claws.”  
I spat the ground, incredulously at first, and then with joy at the look of shock in his eyes 
My jaw tightened with conviction,
My heart flowed with perception

“I have changed you,
Do not try to lie to me, slippery beast,
Bash your head once more upon these pitiless walls, 
Make your minions and gargoyles crackle and cringe at your fury,
Laugh and cry out in anguish,
Burn the daylight out of my sorrows,
Crawl upon me and singe the very vocals declaring the glory from up above,
In silence or in sound,
All glory is to spill on God!
The end is the end,
If you wish not to exist in the conclusion,
I will be not be desolate without you,
He grants peace and joy to those who serve Him
Can you not see this is not for you alone, oh wretched, confident dragon?
Can you not see this mercy and relief I offer you,
To fulfill my duties of Agape love? 
I am not your Temptress, I am your benefactor,
Inspired by the Spirit to move you 
If it is too late, than so be it! 
Leave me with my God you hate till the days depart from us,
Till the moment I climb out of this well with HIM and not YOU,
A transformed being with a stronger conviction than ever
You cannot deny that mankind has changed you! 
That the Spirit in me and of my God affects you,
That this light is around you
Just as this darkness is 
If you cannot let the light in,
If you will not let it in,
You can never let me in…..”

He grimaced, the thought of me leaving the well fracturing his thoughts,
My words flowing like waters, not processing fully in him, but drowning in him
He was looking at something distant beyond me
But as I knew, very well,
He could not stop the fact that he heard every word,
And he could not change it,
He could not make it what he wanted,
He could think what he may,
But they were rightful words,
They were from my voice
And into his ears
That, in torture, always hear

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Debbie Duncan | Details

BY THE SEA

PART One,,,, as she saw it.


The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.  It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way!

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
               
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  Whatever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me, surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it.

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their newborn looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a perfect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest of beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature, with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather than the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with its fire. I felt the beginnings of ~

   

   Nov. 18, 1992,,,, a Short story I started to write, A friend asks if he could write from a male's point of view.

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Kim van Breda | Details

OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21

OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21

ON 1ST JULY 1990~ THE ANGELS DID SOMETHING ALMIGHTY
FROM HEAVEN THEY SENT US OUR LIFE-LONG DESIRE-A PRECIOUS DAUGHTER TO LOVE AND ADMIRE.
TRUE TO YOUR NATURE YOU ARRIVED WITHOUT FUSS OR PAIN--THE FIRST TIME OUR EYES MET WE KNEW OUR LIVES WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME

AS A BABY AND TODDLER YOU MADE US SO PROUD
YOUR VERY LONG HAIR, GREEN EYES AND SMILE-
ALL THOSE GOOD LOOKS MADE YOU STAND OUT IN A CROWD
YOU STARTED TALKING EARLY WITH MANY VOICEPRINTS 
YOUR CHARM AND GOOD LOOKS HAVE NOT STOPPED SINCE
YOU LOVED YOUR DOLLS AND PRAMS-- DREAMT OF BEING A “SINGER”
 AND VERY QUICKLY LEARNED HOW TO WRAP YOUR DAD AROUND YOUR LITTLE FINGER
YOUR BIG BROTHER DEVON--BEST FRIEND AND PROTECTER 
MOST OF THE TIME YOU GOT ON PERFECTLY TOGETHER

FROM AN EARLY AGE YOU SHOWED YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING
AGE TWO AND A HALF YOU WERE ABLE AND WILLING
TO SWIM UNDER WATER AND DO MANY LENGTHS
THIS WAS CLEARLY ONE OF YOUR SPORTING STRENGTHS
AT AGE THREE YOU COULD BARELY WAIT TO START PLAYSCHOOL
“MISS INDEPENDENCE”, WAS YOUR GENERAL RULE
THE SLIDE AND JUNGLE GYM WERE YOUR FAVOURITE SPOTS
 AND TO OUR HORROR YOU WOULD CLIMB RIGHT TO THE TOP!
AT AROUND THIS TIME, YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND YOU MET-
 HE LIVED NEXT DOOR, AND HIS NAME WAS BRETT

SOON IT WAS TIME FOR  PRE-SCHOOL
YOU LOVED YOUR TEACHER--YOUR NEW FRIENDS WERE COOL
‘SPRING BONNETS’ AND THE END OF YEAR SCHOOL PLAYS
THE TEDDY BEAR CLASS GAVE YOU SOME REAL SPECIAL DAYS
NEXT WAS ‘BIG SCHOOL’ AND YOUR FIRST CLASS
WE WERE SERIOUSLY ANXIOUS BUT FOR YOU JUST ANOTHER ‘MISS INDEPENDENCE’ TASK
LETTERLAND, MATHS AND LEARNING TO READ
YOU EXCELLED AT ALL THAT WITH INCREDIBLE SPEED
YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS CONTINUED THROUGH GRADES 2, 3 AND FOUR
YOUR PLACE IN THE SWIMMING TEAM HELPED YOUR SCHOOL WIN MORE

OUR MOVE TO AUSTRALIA… SAD FAREWELLS TO YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR PETS 
BUT, GREAT EXCITEMENT YOU FELT AT ADVENTURES TO BE MET
A NEW SCHOOL--“METHODIST LADIES COLLEGE”
NEW FRIENDS--JUMPING A GRADE-- MET WITH SUCH POSITIVE COURAGE
YOU MADE US SO PROUD IN THE WAY YOU ADAPTED
MRS. WILLIAMSON SAID YOU WERE THEIR NEW CLASS ‘ASSETT’
.
THE ‘MR BEE’ SPELLING AWARD AND MANY MERITS LATER 
WE ALL GOT HOMESICK-- BUT YOUR POSITIVE NATURE DID NOT WAVER
THE DECISION WE MADE TO RETURN TO CAPE TOWN 
CAUSED YOU HEARTBROCKEN TEARS AND A PERMANENT FROWN
ONCE AGAIN A SAD FAREWELL TO YOUR NEW FOUND FRIENDS 
RETURNING TO S.A. FOR OLD ONES TO MAKE AMMENDS

IT WASN’T VERY LONG THAT YOU PICKED UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF AT ALL
 ADDED TO YOUR TALENTS WERE NOW TEAM HOCKEY AND NETBALL

AS YOU APPROACHED THE FIRST OF YOUR TEEN YEARS
WITH YOUR LOOKS AND CHARM, INEVITABLY THE BOYFRIENDS WOULD APPEAR
SHOPPING, MOVIES AND MANY PARTY SLEEP-OVERS
CHOOSING TRUE FRIENDS AND DUMPING THE LOSERS
DANCE SHOWS AND DANCING EXAMS… YOU EXCELLED AT HIP- HOP
 FUN AND OF COURSE THE DESIRE TO SHOP

THE END OF JUNIOR SCHOOL-- THE FINAL ASSEMBLY—AWARDS
TROPHIES FOR SPORTSMANSHIP AND YOUR S.R.C. PRIZE GOT MANY APPLAUDS
SAD FEELINGS AT LEAVING YOUR OLD SCHOOL BEHIND 
EXCITEMENT AT STARTING HIGH SCHOOL WOULD SOON COME TO MIND
NO PROBLEM TO YOU, IT WAS ALL JUST A BREEZE 
AS YEAR BY YEAR YOU CONTINUED TO ACHIEVE
SWIMMING AND ‘A’ TEAM HOCKY MATCHES ON THE ASTRO TURF 
YOU EVEN STARTED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF
FRIDAY AFTERNOON CHRISTIAN MEETINGS AND EVENING CHURCH YOUTH
WE WERE SO HAPPY YOU FOUND GOD AND HIS TRUTH

THE REST OF HIGH SCHOOL PASSED IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE WHILE 
YOUR LIST OF ACHIEVEMENTS REMAINED EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH
YOUR ORGANISATIONAL SKILLS WERE ASTOUNDING
COPING WITH TOUGH SUBJECTS LIKE MATHS, SCIENCE AND ACCOUNTING
IN HOCKEY AND SWIMMING YOU MADE THE TOP TEAMS
NO SURPRISE AT ALL THAT SWIMMING COACHES MOVED IN ON THE SCENE.

THEY CULTIVATED YOUR TALENTS FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH
EVERY YOUR NIGHT YOUR PASSION SAW YOU DOING MANY LENGTHS
WEEKENDS OF GALA’S AND NATIONAL SWIMMING
S.A.SHORT COURSE, YOUR P.B’S, AND FAIR SHARE OF WINNING
TOGETHER WE CELEBRATED YOUR PLACE IN   W.P. SCHOOL CHAMPS THAT YEAR 
SO PROUD OF OUR BEAUTIFUL SWIMMER ALWAYS AHEAD OF HER PEERS 
.
FIRST YEAR AT UNIVERSITY YOU BECAME SO INDEPENDENT
 STARTING YOUR STUDIES AS A B.Sc. STUDENT
IT WAS ALSO THE YEAR YOU LEARNED TO DRIVE
GOT YOUR LICENSE—DAD SPOILT YOU—NEW CAR—RESPLENDENT


YOUR FAITH AND TRUST IN THE LORD STILL REMAINS FIRM
AS YOU WALK AND GROW SPIRITUALLY DAILY WITH HIM

SO MUCH HAS CHANGED, AND YET SOME THINGS REMAIN
YOU BEAUTY AND TALENTS SO EASILY MAINTAINED
YOUR  LOVE OF SWIMMING AND OUTSTANDING ACHIEVEMENTS IN WATER
YOU KNOW WE WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR NO. 1 SUPPORTERS
AND NOW YOU ARE 21, SWEETHEART 
YOUR WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU-- TODAY IS JUST THE START
IT SEEMS LIKE JUST YESTERDAY THAT YOU WERE BORN—
OUR DAUGHTER~LOVES BRIGHT SHINING LIGHT~ WE ADORE
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED IN EVERY WAY 
WISHING YOU GOD’S RICHEST BLESSINGS ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY
HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY GIRL

TO HAVE YOU AS A DAUGHTER HAS BEEN A REAL PLEASURE
-YOU HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL BE OUR MOST BEAUTIFUL TREASURE-

(FOOTNOTE: OUR DAUGHTER WILL BE 23 THIS YEAR, HAS COMPLETED HER BSc. AND HONOURS DEGREE’S IN PHYSIOLOGY AND GENETICS AND NOW DOING HER MASTERS DEGREE IN EXERCISE SCIENCE. SHE IS ALSO A PROFESSIONAL TRIATHLETE—DOING SWIMMING, CYCLING AND RUNNING AS ONE DISCLIPLINE)

Copyright © Kim van Breda | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Terry Trainor | Details

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.

Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,

As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.

If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.

An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.

The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.

Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.


Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.

These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,

As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.

These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,

Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Mike Liquori | Details

Lincolns Lesson learned

                                  Hard driven by the embarrassment,
                                   His temper Flared bright in youth,
                         Grinded to sharpness by the glittering coin held tight,
                                     Handed to his Dad in fear,
                             Slavery is Poverty and vise versa to this day;
                                 The first lessons of the his earlier days,
                                  So Young Lincoln went upon his way, 
                     He flew the coup instead of hitting another nail into timber,
               Knowing that it was his coffin the spike driven into it would be sealing,
                             No more Kentucky hay to bail or seed to lay… 
                               No more indentured servitude for Lincoln,
                                         He swore to God that day,  
                                A Frontier Politician he set a due course,
                                 With vulgar temper and clerical repose,
                                  Dotted with Whiskey, furry and aloof,
                           Young Lincoln the Politic used his words to shred,
                             His rival list long, and he knew that they dread,
                            As he dispensed his paid for frontier limited view,
                        Castigating, name calling and even assailing mere men,
                                     His words were swords to slice,
                                      Fire breathed to incinerate,
                      Not the eloquence of a man upon hollowed temples walls,
                                      Young Lincoln set a course,
                                         That would so create,
                      A life’s lesson learned, but not from sharp worded debate,
                            He insulted the integrity of an immovable man,
                               James Shield a political rival of that date,
                                 Someone who needs to learn to heel,
                                     To the Lincolns law of the land, 
                           So a duel was proposed and Lincoln so dared,
                                     To accept the rival challenge,
                                      but only if he could prevail,
                                              Rules were set, 
                                           A duel to the death,
                             Long Sword chosen for his long tall reach, 
                                         His rival still undeterred,
                                 removed the sword from the sheath,
                               So Lincoln threw down a long wood log,
                    And said to Shield your honor will not allow you to retreat,
                                       What Lincoln did not know,
               Was Mr. Shield’s resolve to this matter and would never ever retreat, 
                                       No matter the circumstance,
                                        He will stand for his honor,
                                    In front of his own blood splatter,
                                      None of that seemed to matter, 
                                         The Duel set to begin,
                                         The middle man arrives,
                                         The Duel called off…

                          When Lincoln looked into Shield’s burning eyes,
                                         Lincoln sees a truth,
                                   Retreats into a five year slumber, 
                               Nursing his ego and calming all matters, 
                                Learning from errors and books galore,
                                  his embarrassed lack of education, 
                                      set a changed in his course,  
                         Learning the Lessons of Shield’s brave stand,
                                      Lincoln never left that day,
                                        And it never went away, 
                               Ignited an understanding of integrity, 
                                                 Honor,
                                              and glory,
                                    Of the righteous path to lay,  
                               But if you think he was born that way, 
                           It was a young Lincoln that had to walk away,
                                   He returned more than a man,
                                           A driven ideology,
                                       Knowing the path ahead, 
                           The future is not through a house divided,
                                          Falling upon itself, 
                                   But only together we can stand,
                                      One nation that is undivided.


  
ThePoetMike 

Copyright © Mike Liquori | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 12

His words stung me, as the cries from the maelstrom seem to retort
Their scattered, foreign words and wails retching their say
I listened, almost mesmerized,
Pulverized

“Come,” Said he,
With threatening authority

Upwards, higher than the balcony from which we stood,
A strumming low, harp-like instrument shook the pit,
As gigantic fingers masterful in song,
Plucked each bass twine, 
The claws tearing its percussion into screech-like echoes

“Will you not come?” He warned, waiting..
Mesmerized by the mysterious harping above,
I turned to face him and sang,

“Momentous tempo fleeting, I rest my creating,
My mind surmounting the nadirs breathing,
Hear their cries, oh Cruel One, 
Hear their sinking hearts beg all for none…

I remember such frenzy of travail,
I recall the despair of helplessness
Harpooning my heart with the sharp point of downfall
Draining, always bleeding
The broken feeling, the circular motion of never-ending grieving
Your demons rage and war,
In the undertones of this tragic score…”

My sorrowful alto voice crept through his skin,
Amusement spreading his smile,
Crawling through his skin and hairs

Turned toward the bright-lit maelstrom,
I continued: 
“I remember, as a daughter of the older world,
 A little girl, with big, confused eyes
The voices of the fallen ones crying to me,
Even in sleep,
They sang, ‘Come to us my child,
To the fiercely slain, and the wild
Save us from the wretched rot,
The desires we so foolishly sought
Our skin boiling in this traitorous hell,
In punishment toward all remaining, we swell
Our eyes bulged forever open to atrocities of all!’
They said, ‘You are no better than us, child…
Why then do we suffer as you stand watch?
Why must He spare one, and despair all rest?
Chosen, you? How partial! How we melt in ire and air,
Hell-bound and bent, forever impaired’
Pulling me near… gurgling within
To the shackles of truth, to the snares of sin…”

I turned to him, though eyes raised in recollection

“I felt the deepest sadness for these sufferers, 
Thinning to the bone, soiled in their excrement
Clawing and gripping the bars of their prisons,
Weeping the bloods of their inescapable pasts,
Eying my innocent soul,
Infuriated with no control
I pounded the earth below me, 
And begged the Eternal to silence their screams
‘Please, Lord,’ I begged, my head lowered,
The thumping worsening,
‘Show me where I am to rise,
Show me why…why do I remain alive,
As all of the dead curse my life!
And why should I, a child, remain?
In this obliteration around me, 
Oh poor, sagging world, still turning,
Why do you still hold me? 
Can you not see I have decomposed out of your soil?
How the bugs and pests crawl toward better meals,
To sustain their dreadful bellies…
Why, Lord, do I stand here alone again?’
Night swam on, sweeping me under the dust…
And He didn’t answer me, so I cried to the skies,
‘Can you not come to me, 
Descend from the heavens and stand as my equal!
I am only a child, my Lord, but I am Yours! 
And these wretches are dying over and over before me
Why do you allow me to watch this,
Again, and again, and again, 
As the animal fights to survive,
Trained to entertain the sick and alive…’
The agonizing moans prevailed, 
And I was left in the soiling questions,
Sinking within me, and around my prostrate  body….
A tiny, shaken girl, with an anger so threadbare to tears…
Lost in my nameless fears .”  


“Come, come!” He wailed, almost laughing with glee, dragging me,
Not able to withhold the sheer joy of my former woes…
I pulled away sharply, in ecstasy of turning tides,
The glow in my eyes sending  him back with every word

“And then, I saw the light, peaking through the blackened clouds!”
The Devil sustained his atrocious smile
“I saw the light as it shimmered down to my wakened hope,
And cooling rain splattered my forehead…”
Closing my eyes, I smiled, remembering the savory coolness
“He softly spoke, like a dream I had finally remembered,
For so long…so long, 
And He wrote it on my heart so I may never forget:
He said, ‘My chosen daughter, do not fret,
Your purpose now is closer yet
You are to raise your arms with this very light,
To reckon rashly the parched of sight
And their suffering is not in vain,
As they rise more faster than the downpour of rain
Listen here, forever more,
The end is naught but a beginning in store…
Their lives forever free, will rise every morning in glee
Every tear from their faces will dry in reveled graces
Their bodies, restored and cleansed,
Their hearts pumping for the joys it was made for
Love reigns just as mightily in the dark,
For Love is never hidden, as truth is written,
Do not fret, My child, do not cry…
In the trail of light, I have seen you fly,
And you will always fly, in My eyes,
The beautiful lark who sings too true shall rise…”

Against the wall, 
Cornered… silenced and hardened,
His stubborn smile faded, all glee lost in somber recoil

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Long Poems