Long Fortieth Poems
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He dreamt of car races and our sunny California beaches.
Of tanned women playing volleyball. Yes, all were within his vibrant reach.
Porsche-mania, though was his all.
Some talk endlessly of dreams coming true, but Bruce, followed them. He
packed up his things and left his freezing Chicago neighborhood.
Blond, tall, amenable with the most beautiful eyes of hypnotic blue.
My cousin, Bruce, so determined to develop his effervescent, glowing manhood.
He was par excellance at selling Mercedes Benz, and,made a substantial living.
He married a beautiful woman, bought a home with pool in Anaheim.
I have never known a man so unselfish and totally giving!
A Porsche Race Car driver, he did become!
Standing there in his white racing suit,blond hair waving, holding a helmet shining in the California sun!
He was living his dream come true.
He became manager of Porche dealership,bought a ranch house with pool
in Malibu. Then, he wasn't feeling well,something was most askew.
Indeed he battled cancer for two years, but not once did I hear him complain, not even a grumble.
People complain of smaller issues, "victim acts" are their thing. Oh, how they do publicize their suffering!
But cancer got the very best of him.He became yet more thin and more than ill.
Bruce celebrated his fortieth birthday in that California Spring!
Eleven days later, God tapped him on the shoulder. And said, " come home, to me, your soul, do bring"
I have quite never gotten over this loss.
I miss his humility and laughter and helping others, no matter the cost!
Bruce did not come from money at all.
He loved, people and life. That was his true legacy and call.
My Highest tribute to my Cousin Bruce.
April 3, 1947~ April 16, 1987
Such joy, generoty and humility!
Always in my thoughts,
Cousin Pangie
3/11/2021
~2~
Every daughter who turns forty
Should get one of these
A poem from her father
Saying what he sees
A home you're building
That's warm, safe and kind
What we'd all expect
And hope to find
So proud are we of your character,
Intellect and what you are
Your heart and skills as dancer,
Wife, mother: you've taken far
Turning forty's a right of passage
Consequences, decisions made of clarity
Now you're the one whose word
Carries the weight and gravity
Someday you'll decide what's best
For your mother and me
Same as we did for you
When you were three
It's the way it is as
We reach to the night
Children mature and
Decide what's right
Your offspring will
Get your unswerving love
Your family being safe
With help from above
You'll know better
How to care for us
When we're like children
And tend to fuss
Your fortieth year
Marks a milestone
With us you'll
March forward not alone
To My Brother on His Birthday
You’ve been to me a brother and a friend
A great support and comfort through the years
The sadness of my life with joy you blend
And when I cry, you help to wipe the tears
To childlike eyes you were the hero great
I stood amazed at strength and boyish skill
As King and Queen we played to challenge fate
Our little games, a source of wondrous thrill
You made me want to be the very best
To rise above the challenges of life
The bar you raised and helped me pass the test
And made me thrive despite the inner strife
Much more than brother, dear, you are to me
You are a source of strength and constancy
Eileen Manassian
June 18, 2015
8:11 am
My brother, Armond, is four years older than I am. It's his birthday today, and I wrote a little sonnet in his honor. He wrote a lovely poem for me on my fortieth, which is framed and hanging on my wall. I can't describe the source of inspiration that Armond is to me. He is an intellectual giant. He has his doctorate in Accounting from the University of Calgary. He is a fantastic teacher. Everything he sets his mind on doing, he can do. I've lived in his shadow in more ways than one! ;) He plays the piano better than I do...when he joined my French class, he outdid me. He's just amazing. Recently, he attended my MA thesis defense and just knowing he was there gave me courage. :) He has always been there to help me with my struggles, and I'm truly blessed to have him in my life. :)
Do not sleep, in the Mysteries of “ LIFE “
For You may find: You have Lost Your WIFE
Imagine the devastation : that tears Your Heart in TWO
A PAIN inflictive in a History of My “ LOVE for Y O U “
Do not sleep, in the Fantasies of “ LIFE “
For in those Dreams, YOU will lose Your WIFE
Feel the cold steal blade, stabbing into a Lifeless Heart
Seer the Flesh : with the fires of Hell, that burn a Broken Heart
Do not sleep, in the Destruction of “ LIFE “
In the aftermath , when the sea stole my WIFE
When the sky was Darken, with FOREVER Grief
Will the Heaven God promised me, be my Relief
Do not sleep, in God’s Everlasting Gift of LIFE
For You would miss the Joy, of FOREVER with Your “WIFE “
Eternal LIFE
WITHOUT a WIFE
Has to be Hell
WAKE UP !!
Author’s Note : A Fortieth Anniversary POEM
For My Beloved “ L E N O R E “
My spouse and I attended my thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I had avoided such past events since in high school I was largely ignored!
But my wife proclaimed that we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate.
A social hour preceded the smorgasbord where the booze freely flowed.
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus that was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, a girth of gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbery kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Who in the hell is this?"
Guys gravitated my way boasting of this and that, bending my weary ear,
Boring me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't care to hear!
Of course I told others how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
I asked the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their former capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities.
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there was no doubt.
But for the fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
By Phan Tan Hai
Forty years like a dream—
shaking off the dust of distant roads;
a faint trace still lingers,
tea-scent deep upon the lashes.
More than sixty passing years,
books read as countless as forests;
once hearing thunder split the peaks,
the mountains broke—fragrance filled the sky.
Returning, hearing the wind breathe,
sweeping through lifetimes of ignorance;
each page of Nguyen Tho’s words
stops mid-flight, as birds listen to the sutra.
Long miles walked without weariness,
the clouds of Tu Luc still drifting;
copying sutras in mist-like lines,
fragrance steeped into the slender strokes.
— March 2017. Respectfully offered to Venerable Nguyen Tho Thich Tu Luc on the fortieth anniversary of his ordination.
jesus died and jerusalem went black
the wind howled and the sky thundered loudly
people ran in fear as the earth moaned
but the beloved stayed
jesus was buried in the early evening
those who believed in him carried his limp body
and the mary's and others followed weeping
they washed and anointed him with myrrh and aloe
wrapping him gently in a linen cloth with no words spoken
in sadness they rolled a huge stone over the entrance
leaving him in silence within his tomb
it was in the hush of dawn on the third day the mary's returned
they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty
the soldiers who had been guarding the tomb had fled in fear
an angel in brilliant light appeared
telling them that christ had risen from the dead
frightened and in shock they ran to tell the apostles
after his rising, jesus appeared to many
he could eat, walk and talk to those he visited
showing them the holes in his hands, side and feet
and allowing them to touch him
for forty days he remained and on the fortieth day he rose
he was carried up into heaven
and we the followers celebrate his death at Easter
and his rising on Easter sunday . . . defeating death
_________________________
April 1, 2015
Poetry/Ekphrasis/the meaning of Easter
Copyright Protected, ID 04-658-844-01
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
We live in a post-modern age
When everyone’s position is equally valid
When transgressions against each other
Or society are understandable
And forgivable because of, well, you know,
Some kind of systemic oppression.
Children are no longer spanked
Let alone mouths washed out with soap,
Adolescent hoodlums run wild
Without fear of consequence,
Career criminals are released on zero bail
Or never even brought to trial,
Politicians lie, steal and cheat with impunity,
While the honest self-defenders of liberty
Are convicted by the full power of the State.
Everywhere an obsession with being soft
And fair and kind and giving second chances,
Or twentieth, fortieth or eightieth
As the case may be,
Has led everyone from the weak and oppressed,
To the rich, famous and powerful
To feel anything goes, as long as no one
Catches or can stop you.
And if they try and stop you, well
Then pull out whatever get-out-of-jail-free
Victim card you happen to have,
And collect an extra $200 as you pass GO
While you’re at it.
Don’t worry, be happy, the sun is shining
Smiling down on you
Like a year round Santa
Who no longer even notices if you’ve been naughty.
And don’t you forget
Everyone gets along now
Here in the kindness trap.
(11/22/25)
A rare Arab and Asian identity which is distinct in topography;
blessed with an excellent human resource in health services;
its heart, destroyed and rebuilt seven different times;
having a name unchanged and sustained to reach historic zeniths;
surviving a number of years more than the number of Brazilian Airports
while its tongue resonates in three different dance moves.
This land historically occupied by over 19 intruders
holds the world book capital and appears in the league
of the most popular shopping destinations globally.
In the global skyscraper of night clubs, sky Bar stays at the top.
The creation of the first boat and the establishment of the first sail
makes the Phoenicians topple Christopher Columbus to reach America.
Down town Beirut raises its flag high above all others
in the building of its law school.
Rooted from its gardens is the creators of Tom and Jerry
and holds the shield of pride as the first constitution driven Arab Nation.
A plug in the large socket of the Arab peninsula
is this land with the highest percentage of Christians in its league;
having a city named after the combined scrolls of the Christ-like religion
and sidon signifying the first miracle center of the Messiah;
with the popular belief of the divine plantations of the cedars.
It is sealed by the several mentions of both land and tree in the holy scriptures.
Even though it is a fortieth of the entire religious empire
its garage gives out a large chunk of the peninsula’s publications.
Unique in its spring, when skiing and swimming are both possible;
possessing fifteen flowing waters, each coming from its own mountainous source;
with four times more compatriots outside its landmark
than within its territorial fence.
Its past time events of the wild fire of civil wars
all ignited by the sparks of inter-religious differences
reflect a large society harbouring eighteen different faith
to form a nation with hidden political and economic influences.