Long Hold off Poems

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The Price of 'Progress', Part I

If you are now reading this note
I am hoping you’ll understand,
I didn’t mean for any of this,
was trying to be a good man.
All that I was trying to do
was support my only son, Dan.
It started when he was eleven,
and declared to all that he was ‘trans.’

I’ve always been a progressive,
and though the news struck me at first,
I wanted to do right by my son,
wanted to lighten the mental hurt,
to be stuck in the wrong body…
I did not know what would be worse.
He would need help to transition,
so we began a doctor search.

Now we lived in small town Kansas,
it’s not known for progressive ways,
most doctors would not help us out,
wouldn’t give us the time of day.                                                                         
We had to go to Topeka,
where a man heard what we had to say,
a doctor who would help us out,
as long as we were willing to pay.

We started with hormone blockers,
to hold off the male puberty,
that was followed by estrogen,
he grew out his hair to look pretty.
At first Dan seemed much better off,
for several months looked quite happy,
though didn’t like having to wait
whole year for the surgery.

But the day came, and the day went,
and then Dan’s transition was complete,
he now called himself Daniella
to any people he might meet.
Soon enough the whispers went ’round
to all the people on the street,
but I cared not for their ‘old’ views,
Daniella they would not defeat.

My parents stopped talking to me,
said allowing this was insane,
to cut up a child’s body
who had an undeveloped brain.
They said it was child abuse,
his future nothing but pain,
and what would happen if he grew
and came to regret this drastic change?

I called them out as ‘filthy transphobes,’
said they had hateful points of view.
My father just gave me a sneer,
and said, “Your son’s life is screwed.”
Of course then I just doubled down,
and said, “I have no use for you.”
I haven’t talked to them since then,
I so believed my words were true…

For the next few years things went well,
just Danielle, me, and my wife,
and my son seemed to adapt well
to the choice he had made in life.
But about the time he turned fifteen
something about him didn’t seem right,
one night I found hm in his room
Staring dolefully at a knife.

CONTINUES IN PART II.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Cruisin'

All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
for half a week’s vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going.  The Bahamas wait for you.

Bon Voyage! There’s Reggae music playing on the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. Hold off on that tuxedo!
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’.

Gamble or see comedy; reflect upon the ocean.
Late to bed; relax your head; sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour, or you can stay.

On board the ship, take a dip; lounge or dance Calypso.
Get yourself massaged; work out, shop or play some bingo.
All day long, you can find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.

Day two when you waken, you will be in Nassau.
There’s stuff  for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones may stay behind. Folks will entertain them,
or the kids can tag along with the adults. No problem!

If you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays,  the boat leaves right at noon.
You can pet some dolphins, but extra you should pay
if you want to swim with them. That’s one special day.

In town you might be nabbed by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids is all the rage, so people get their hair done.
Get back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If you‘re still not having fun, you must be a door nail!

“Day at Sea” arrives as your trip is winding down,
And the biggest night is coming; women wear a gown!
That final evening dining perhaps with a new friend,
you’ll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.

Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, that midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for leisure if you’re after more than snoozing’.
In the laid-back natives lingo: “Mon, you best be cruising!”

NOTE: (this describes a vacation I took about 12 years ago, my first
and probably last cruise ever, unless I come into money. haha.
I'd seen Europe in my youth but as vacations go,this truly was
the best one.)

For Carol Brown's Contest: "It's Time for a Vacation"
Form: Rhyme

Life

The truth of life is it can take you down
So much hurt and pain it spins you around 
Take it from me their will always be
Struggles in life you will see

I grew up without a father
You treated me like a daughter
Your sexual molestation ruined my life
I started cutting myself with a knife

You turned my whole family against me
The only hope I had was preying to god on bended knee
My mother started to call me a liar
Which in return fueled my hate fire

All these years I thought it was my fault I was to blame
But I was fourteen you were the adult it's not the same
You were right if I told my mother she wouldn't believe
But finally breaking down telling my friends was a big relief

I spent my teenage years bounced around
Not making a sound 
For the hate that I dealt
Came from the pain I felt

Until one day a family could see
All the pain I had inside of me
They were patient and kind
Gave me a peace of mind

They taught me how to love
And to look high above
But I was to far gone
My anger caused me to do something wrong

Now I am 29 dealing with so many issues
I cry so much I run out of tissues
My depression was under control the past was finally the past
Then I began to work and I could feel it wasn't going to last

I felt myself slip deeper and deeper
How much longer can I hold off the grim reaper
I am not one who is liked by many so it is said
My job hangs by a thread

Everyone trying to get me fired
It's made me so tired
Their is to much anxiety and stress
I felt sticking to myself and being quiet was best

I see now I was wrong
People toss you around like a ping pong
When I open my mouth to speak the truth 
I feel cornered in a booth

I have been on medical leave for a year
I fear death is near
I try to keep my head held high
But the stress and pain makes me want to die

The best mother I have even known keeps me going strong
So everyday o listen to my fight song
I can't give up I have to keep fighting
It helps to keep writing 

My children need me now
So it's time to stop being a fat cow
No matter how hard life can be
Someone has it worse you see

Get on the phone
Because your not alone
Even when u feel you have nothing left to give
God gave us life so we could live.
Form: Bio

The present, my woe

I try no, I’m sure I do. Or maybe…
With the whole weight of my being, 
I try to enjoy the present.
I stretch each minute wide enough to step inside, to sit a while not merely pass through.
This existence with intention, this awareness I otherwise tuck away,
as if noticing the fine grains of now could slow their fall, 
could hold off the blur of becoming memory.

Some mornings, the light lands just right,
casting water like shadows over old wood at the edge of the table.
And I tell myself, This is it. This is what it means to be alive.
Even as the thought folds into the next, and the next.
I fall back into another dream.
They say if you dream at dusk, it comes true but what of those for whom I grind my sweat and bones.

The alarm rings.
I slither from bed into a dress they call civil,
when I could be wearing colour, prints, feathers, joy.
I chug tea, the drink I despise the most,
because it forces the present into clarity,
waking me against my will.
I walk slower now.
Not from weariness, but hope 
that dragging my feet through time might leave deeper footprints, 
might anchor me to something more enduring than memory,
more honest than photographs.

A child with a balloon: a bright red spot in the dew dim dawn,
it slips from her fingers, and with it, her spark.
Still, no matter how I linger, how I pause,
how I hold my breath and try to feel it all,
the scent of this morning’s tea on my fingers,
the hum of distant traffic,
the sudden ache of a name I haven’t said in weeks,
the moment slips away.
Indifferent.

Dissolving into the forward pull of time.
Because the present does not wait for poetry.
It does not care for attention.
It flares and fades, flickers and dies,
and I’m left chasing its smoke with open hands.
And tomorrow unapologetic, unbending, rises like a tide I cannot reason with.
It looms behind every joy, every pause, every fragile instant I try to claim as mine.
It does not ask if I’m ready.
It does not soften.
It arrives regardless
often, as dreams vanish in its wake.
© Pranali Vg  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Green Chapter Five

As he drove away from the bank his 
cellphone ringed.  "Hello what's up 
Mecca?"   "The deal with the Asians is 
taking place right now.  They want one 
thousand for a pound of
heroin".  "Mecca hold off until I get 
there" commanded Malik.  Malik 
increased his speed from 40mph to 
55mph.
Pulling onto the premises of the old 
condemned high school Malik killed his 
engine.  Getting out
of his car he ran over to where the deal 
was taking place.  Jade the leader of the 
Jade Dragons greeted
Malik with a firm handshake.  Jade was a 
tall good looking Chinese woman with 
plump lips and a 
small nose.  "Where have you been?"  
Snaped Jade.  "Where's the product?  I 
want this over with as soon as
possible" replied Malik.  "It's in the trunk 
of my car.  I'll bring it over to you".  
Walking to her car 
Jade thought weather she should tell 
Malik about her idea of merging the two 
groups.  With her and Malik
as King and queen of the organization.  
returning from the trunk of her car Jade 
handed Malik the herion for
him to inspect it.  Sastified with what he 
saw Malik motion for Mecca to to pay 
Jade the money.  Taking the money from 
Mecca Jade waved Malik over.  Looking 
Malik in the eyes Jade told him that she 
would like for him and her to have a 
private meeting.  Agreeing to the meeting 
Malik gave Jade a hug whispering in her 
ear for her to meet him at club Envy 
Sunday at 12:00 midnight.  "Ok no one 
else to come with you or me.  Just the two 
of us" Jade told Malik.  Taking their leave 
the Black Crime Syndicate top ranking 
members wanted to know what Malik and 
Jade was talking about.  Written by Keith 
Edward Baucum aka The Green Poet aka 
The Brown Philosopher aka Red Seven
Form: Narrative


Green Chapter Four

As he drove away from the bank his cell 
phone rings.
"Hello what's up Mecca?"  "The deal with 
the Asians
is taking place right now.  They want one 
thousand for a pound
of heroin".  "Mecca hold off until I get 
there" Commanded Malik. Malik increased 
his
speed from 40mph to 55mph.  Pulling 
onto the premises of the old 
Condemned high school Malik killed his 
engine.  Getting out of his car 
he ran over to where the deal was taken 
place.  Jade the leader of the Jade
Dragons greeted Malik with a firm 
handshake.  Jade was a tall good looking
Chinese woman with plump lips and a 
small nose.  "Where have you been?" 
snaped
Jade.  "Where's the product?  I want this 
over with as soon as possible" replied 
Malik.
"It's in the trunk of my car I'll bring it to 
you."  Walking to her car Jade thought 
weather she
should tell Malik about her idea of 
merging the two groups.  With her and 
Malik as king and 
queen of the organization.  Returning from 
her car Jade handed Malik the heroin for 
him to inspect
it.  Sastified with what he saw Malik 
motion for Mecca to pay Jade the 
money.  
Taking the money from Mecca Jade 
waved Malik over.  Looking him in the 
eyes Jade told him she
would like to have a private meeting. 
Agreeing to the meeting Malik gave Jade a 
hug. 
Whispering in her ear for her to meet him a 
Club Envy Sunday at 12:00 midnight.  "Ok 
no one else is to
come with you are me.  Just the two of us"
Jade told Malik. Taking their leave
The Black Crime Syndicate top ranking 
members wanted to know what Malik and 
Jade was talking about.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red 
Seven aka The Green Poet aka The Brown 
Philosopher
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Sidney Poitier Rip

*Image of Sidney Poitier.



Sidney Poitier RIP



~~~0~~~
Sidney,
Tony,

Defy's,
Tough Guys,

De-means,
Offed-Steams,

Mellow,
Fellow,

Recaught,
Re-Taught,

Best Friends,
Ne'er Ends,



~~~0~~~
Lillies,
Heel Eased,

Homer,
Mother,

Grapple,
Chapel,

All's Well,
Farewell,



~~~0~~~
Sidney,
Shelley,

Patch Blue,
Untrue,

Winters,
Splinters,

Equal,
People,

Her Role,
Sinkhole,



~~~0~~~
To Sir,
Teacher,

Chiefly,
Briefly,

Performed,
Reformed,

Damaged,
Managed,

Face-Off,
Hold-Off,

Better,
Fighter,

Well-Dressed,
Impressed,

Requests,
Speechless,

Process,
Redress,



~~~0~~~
They Call,
He bawl,

Tibbs, Sir,
Steiger!,

So Rod,
Applaud,

Detect,
Is Black

Visits,
King's Pit,

Disguised,
King-Sized,

Cordial,
Virgil,

Slappin',
White Man,

Surprised,
Advised,

Gillesp...,
Impressed,

Phillies,
PD's,

Number,
One-er,

Export,
Expert,



~~~0~~~
Guess Who,
These Two,

Invite,
Despite,

Color,
Scholar,

Parents,
Clearance,

Partial,
Cordial,

Martial,
Naught So,

Dinner,
Winner,

Airport,
Support,

Departs,
Two Hearts,



~~~0~~~
*RIP Mister Poitier*
I was honored to have had a one-on-one intro with Mr. Poitier, in 1977, Oakland, CA. I found him to be a passionate man of his industry and one who bears a considerable measure of compassion ... he will be sorely missed.

Surrounded by loved ones, Poitier died at his Beverly Hills home in California of cardiopulmonary failure, (02/20/27-01/06/22) at 94.

2022 February 11
*1st Place*
A STRAND (1071)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 February 12
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Footle

I Will Be There

The children always part their ways when they grow. Not because they don't love parents but because they feel no body understands them. They can't get over their emotions,  they can't see what they have yet not imagined. 
A parent knows the behavior isn't a mistreat, it is just that s/he is drowning in emotions. May what happen a parent can't leave, coz this is the time when the child really needs them.
A promise that a parent always keeps:



When the pearl is floating upon salty water. 
I shall be there before it dribbles down. 

When ever a spark is triggering the axon. 
I shall be there to stifle before destruction. 

When faults come crawling  to tremble. 
I shall be there to clasp and embrace.

When the star of hope is conking out. 
I shall be there to lay hold of.

When the forlorn creeper is longing for support.
I shall be there till the last drop of blood.

When walking through the mist in dense dark forest. 
I shall be there to pave the way n make sure that nothing bothers. 

When Shying away in the eclipse. 
I shall be there to remove obstruction to see you gleaming  like the Sun .


When the regret pours down like rain. 
I shall be there to jump beside in puddle n make the sorrow faint. 


WORD REFERENCE :

Dribbles :  To move downwards in a thin flow
Axon: Nerve fibre that conducts electrical impulses
Stifle: To stop something happening
Faults : Cracks in the earth's crust along which there is movement.
Tremble: Shake in fear
Clasp: A firm hold with the hands or arms. 
Lay hold off: To hold
Forlorn: Not cared for
Conk out: Completely lose functionality.
Form: Imagism

Premium Member Icarian Wings In Midnight Dreams

Icarian Wings In Midnight Dreams

What of hidden *Icarian wings that yet soar
dreams of blue heavens, where hearts rest forever more
Soft shadows cast by day, deep calls after midnight
begging man's redemption, in invisible flights.

Above busy hustle from towns far, far below
within hope's eternal mists, on and on they go
While midnight fights hard to hold off coming of dawn
they cast dew drops upon all sleeping mortal's lawns.

Messengers to mere mortals, slumbering in dreams
poor lost souls, hellbent on fishing in dying streams
With flash of graceful wing, their words of wisdom sent
until burning flames consume and their life is spent.

No wrathful God, commands that hot fiery demise.
Such comes from evil thoughts, only man can devise!

Robert J. Lindley, 4-27-2019
Sonnet, ( Where Wisdom In Mythology May Yet Be Revealed )
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syllables Per Line:12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables:168
Total # Words:120

( " they that soar in and out of my night dreams*
    are foes of Fate and its accursed wrath*
	winging across starlit skies, sailing high jet streams*
	ever seeking to alter mankind's doomed path*)

Note:
1. *Icarian
of Icarius fame, 


Dictionary
I·car·i·an
/i'kere?n/
adjective
relating to or characteristic of Icarus, especially in being excessively ambitious.
"an Icarian mentality that could only lead to a crash and burn"
Translations, word origin, and more definitions
Feedback
Web results
Icarians - Wikipedia
  
See more information above.....
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member showers

My room, the suite, seemed too small.
I felt like I’d been in my room forever.
I’d developed a scratchy sense of stuckness
and a fresh, itchy awareness of dust particles
floating in the stifling, still air that made me
want to stop breathing in so much.

But I didn’t, categorically, have the energy
to get up and focusing seemed like a lot of effort.
I had a big midterm test, first thing this morning
and it laid me to waste, mentally. I think I did well
but it was a feat. Whenever I feel lifeless and weak,
I start to fear I’m coming down with something.

But then, everyone’s tired. The suite seems unnaturally
quiet, as if no one even has the energy to command
our ever-listening AI to play a playlist, so silence
ruled by exhausted default. It’s as if a low-pressure area had
descended to hold off a brush of refreshing ozone and rain.

Could I rouse my posse of symbiotic sort-of siblings
for an outing somewhere - like Toad’s bar - just across the street?
My door was open, so I called out, rather weakly, “Let’s go out!”
Someone, (Lisa sprawled out on the red corduroy couch?)
groaned listlessly from the common area. “My treat!” I updogged.

Five minutes later, it was showers all around. I love a good shower.
A shower’s where I ponder over the big questions, because
answers seem to come quickly there. I imagine I’d be wise
beyond words if I had a house with a waterfall running through it,
like one of those amazing, Frank Loid Wright masterpieces.
.
.
Songs for this:
The Duke Is Gone by Chuck Senrick
Cannock Chase by Labi Siffre

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