She is beautiful, she was amazing
Always that
Still that, and will be, forever
She was my Russian language teacher
In the first moment, I loved her
The young innocent virgin boy
I loved her, but she failed me
At the end of the second year
I changed school
The perfect love was destroyed
Our paths have parted far away
It happened forty years ago
Only a few years different we have
She is so young, there is no age
She was a painting, now a dame
Her very being is etched into my soul and heart
Her memory can never be erased from my life
Never, never more in the time
My life was going into a dark labyrinth
Came just sufferings, pain, bad fate
Years and years passed away
Yes, unforgettable this perfect woman
This bleeding wound will never heal. Forever
Life, thank you for this woman
Her agonizing memory carves my soul
I love her through time and for eternity
Yes, forever
Delicate dainty flowers with crisp petals of peach
Climbed off of their vines onto the backs of the oranges
The rest of the garden grew silent, watching the show
What would happen next? Would there be frost?
Signaling the prophecy of the California orange faerie.
She only comes to the groves every twenty-second year.
Most people lose track before she arrives.
Is this year fifteen or seventeen?
The oranges had lost track themselves,
But the delicate dainty flowers knew.
They announced the imminent arrival of their queen.
The pink lilies cluster together as if they were in a hug
tall and gallant posed they are breathtaking beautiful
with a friendly yellow stigma and rusty red filament
lively colors that brighten the day with a sweet smile.
The first year they seemed to crawl out of the earth
breaking from the soil so small and delicate but pretty
The second year juvenile growth a little taller more full
the pink petals ever so playful and lush.
Year three proud and full, high and showy
from a few to a bunch reaching up saying hello world
Here we are in full radiance of nature's glory
our satin pink petals force a touch to realize real indeed.
The pink lilies get lots of complimentary comments
bringing satisfaction to a gardener's pride
Bought from PCH trying to win five grand a week for life
never win those prizes but never lose for every spring a winner.
The picture stared down at the old man
Good times, friends for life
The decomposing body was in its second year now
The dust and webs had cloaked him like a blanket
Giving him comfort that life denied him
Time ago, they would have classed him as a hero, time ago
The black van took him away
Eventually releasing the body for burning
The prayers were brief
His final epitaph came when the council cleared the house
The picture was the last to go in the skip
Glancing at it, the worker remarked to his colleague
Old soldier.
Dear mother too-long-gone.
One year,
second year of motherless
mother’s days. Never
thought you’d be the first
to go, over many who
seemed more likely,
but I’m not God. He knew.
He knew…we all die.
I thought I knew,
until you did.
The emptiness is complete.
Christ hung on that tree.
He knew
how bad separation
from a mother, from His Father
was. Too-long-gone,
come, Lord Jesus, come
reunite…
it’s been a long good night.
5/3/2022
Passover’s month is the New Year
for Israelite Kings
I know that seems like
a crazy thing… but back in the day
Jews used to date
the start of a king’s reign
by its proximity to Nisan
the month Passover’s in…
So, if a king was crowned
a week before Nisan began
By Passover he was in the second year
of his reign’s lifespan…
Now if you’ve always thought of Nisan
as the first Japanese-American car
Well, here’s this poem ~ and there you are
Would twelve thirty work?
Sure, I say. What day?
She gives me a sideways glance. “Today?”
“Sure,” I agree. ” Why not?”
A glimmer of surprise flits across her eyes.
She is pretty inflexible, so she does not understand me.
She did not understand why she had to have counseling classes either.
But this is my second year at this school.
Now she knows I am a thirty-minute break, and she appreciates me.
She thanks me profusely.
The Second Year of Barely Breathing
David J Walker
When can we breathe again
exhaling the dust
Of a long-lost day
Safe from the safe distance
Look them in the eye and pray a prayer
Of resistance to the unknown God of goodbye
Our Father
If we ever
get to sit together
again
hear our prayers of common fears
A faceless family of mannequins
Dropped in for a taste of pain
A faithful student of mandolin music
Dropped in from a soaking rain
Our Father
If we ever
Leave the house
again
hear our prayers of preservation
from a death we did not plan
Cold starting the car on a crisp autumn morning
my Dad wasn't the happiest bloke,
put antifreeze in it, ran the engine, ten minutes
and then he could pull out the choke.
On his pale blue Austin the locks needed defrosting,
condensation to clear from inside,
warm water down the screen and then give it a clean
after that, it was ready to ride.
In my sixty second year, like that old car, I fear
(and it crept up on me without knowing),
I now have developed a cold start routine
since otherwise I can't get going.
Wipe the sleep from my eyes,
stretch my arms to the sides,
move my head in a figure of eight,
a good cough to feel better
clears my carburettor,
then a yawn, and a two minute wait.
I get out of bed but my exhaust backfires,
I wasn't quite expecting that,
with a moan the good lady hides under the sheets
and I'm left with a disgusted cat.
Now the end is near
Covid now is in second year
Still we live with the dread and fear
We're promised that the end is near
That freedoms on the way we hear...
Where do you go to my lovelies
When all the instructions are read
Do the boundaries astound you
Do you lie much longer in bed?
Are you lonely keeping distance
Have kids eager to be in class
Missing hugs with special loved ones
And loathe wearing a facial mask?
If one lives in an apartment
At least you can view the starlight
Those with a house and a garden
Can be out by day and by night.
When the weather is against you
Are you at a loss what to do
Do you get weary of reading
And watching television too?
Have you done so many puzzles
That you have now become brain dead
Does memory stray to old days
In dreams of the good times ahead?
3rd March 2021
Hollyhocks will bloom
in their second year of growth
reaching to the sky.
I felt that I should volunteer
for two short years to do my part,
and so I asked the local draft board,
“Make me next, I want to serve.”
The letter came from Uncle Sam.
It told me to do and when.
They gave me a green uniform,
as orders flew from all directions.
The food was good, the hours long,
as training turned us into men.
Our hair was short, our pay was low,
just sixty-three dollars a month.
I went to war my second year
and lived behind a wire fence.
A prison term is what it seemed.
It felt like incarceration.
When it was over, I came home
with ribbons on my uniform.
“Distinguished Service” was awarded,
by the officer in charge.
Fifty years have come and gone,
but still I hear that special phrase,
from some who say to veterans,
“Thank you for your service.”
My favourite laptop screensaver
is a photograph of you
on graduation day ...
your beaming smile
hides an aching heart
of such tragic loss
as your two school friends died
in your second year of study,
neither living to see your smile
on graduation day ...
they would have been so proud
of all you had achieved
and my heart fills with pride
that you didn’t give up studying,
in fact, you were the top student
and recognised internationally
on graduation day ...
I was proudest mother of them all!
9/12/19
Writing Challenge 2, September 2019 - The Photograph
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
I am 7 years old and have already learned a lot
as ...
"God's wife is called Godmother
She is the mother of all her grandchildren:
Noah, Jesus and Santa Claus "
This is my second year at school
"All children start with clean hands"
(laughter ......... :)
By the way
... do you know?
"Grandmothers have very big bra
They are so big that
I get the whole butt and two knees into one bowl
... the second my brother can use a cradle "
From the child's mouth :)
02.02.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
We planted love inside our hearts
a rooted tree, when but a seedling
Carved our initials deep in the trunk
with rings worn on our left fingers
In early Spring of its second year
a budded sprout began to grow
By mid Summer of its fourth year
branches drooped and became brittle
In Autumn, its leaves fluttered and fell
roots were exposed to the ground above
Winter snows left it gasping for breath
The tree weakened, hollow and dying
Uprooted, it fell upon the ground
and now lays covered in fungi and moss
Long ago in my memory, a tree grew roots
Limbs entwined like a groom and his bride
The carving in its bark crumbled and I cried
From somewhere near, a lone owl hoots
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