Long Hefting Poems

Despite how much a man adores his folks before they pass...there sometimes is... among the other folks that man survives...
The sort who - without needing to be asked, becomes involved, and simply out of kindness...

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Youngest Champion In Woman Squash

There you have it, the youngest ever World Woman Squash Champion..
At a tender age of twenty, Nour El Sherbini is the 2015 Woman World Champion..

Coming off the prolific production line from...

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To The Victor Goes The Spoils

In the confined playing area within the concrete walls of a squash court..
The next few days will definitely witness intense rivalries inside the courts.. 

It the 1st leg of the...

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Faraway Footsteps

How present
This past
Called memory

Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way

So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished...

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#FAREWELL, BROTHER
by
Hannah Rain

Lowering him down upon his curved back,
On silky blue sheets, all pleated and tacked,
A pillow they stuffed beneath his cold head,
And combed his gray hair, that once was bright red.

Then buttoning his tweed,...

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This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet ends, running up a painful lather.

Down the dirt road, where he lived, when young,
was a farmer...

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This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet, ends running up a painful lather.

Down the dirt road, where he lived, when young,
was a farmer...

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She watched her move
	The potted Chinese Hibiscus inside,
	Sliding it over the not yet frozen ground,
	Hefting it slowly over the six wood back steps,
	Resting and breathing,
	Hands on hips.
	Each year she would think of helping.
	But she didn’t...

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My world had the same aspects as my life.
Its spaces were roughly the size of a fine ship. 
Its spirit was comparable to that of a wooden knife.
There are clouds and snow in the skies tied...

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Father is a stump grinder,
a heavy planter. Shovel fingers
bulling through onions and leeks. 
Truck-hands lashed to maroon suspenders.
Head in the dirt, a blue exhaust
trailing from grub-working teeth,
hefting clumps and yellow fag-ends,
raising clammy clay blooms.

Mother is...

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Father is a stump grinder,?
a heavy planter. Shovel fingers?
bulling through onions and leeks.?
Truck-hands lashed to maroon suspenders.?
Head in the dirt, a blue exhaust?
trailing from grub-working teeth,?
hefting clumps and yellow fag-ends,?
raising clammy clay blooms.?
?
Mother is a...

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The Untruth Of A Lone And Erroneous Prophecy


What has a prophetic death done to this poor soul
the merest thought of sleeping under freshen sod
stir the urgent flames, hefting in more Irish coal
is it true Fate...

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on my six

 the village faded in my past
when at last i walked through the gate 
for the final time
neither of us remained the same
as we were in the days of my coming of age
back...

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It snowed last night;
taking out the trash,
there I am, dozing in a garden swing set
deep within July.

It could be another year.
July in a London park
lying next to her,
wisps of gentleness in a public place,
dandelion seeds...

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