Elderly woman uprights toppled potted plants. Small pots of mums, mini rose bush, geraniums tottering (ailing for the water she provides) on white stones beneath encrypted names. She knows none of the souls resting, yet the memorial draws her. There's a peace here that slips quietly from the hum of nearby streets. Sometimes a child's note, wind blown away, needs re-fixing to the wall's base. She strains to match note to name. The rhythm of small alignments that re-fit a shredded world in a meaningful way. Her restorations that have the energy of giving, like spiritual dignity that erases invisibility.
kindness glow prevails
devotion honors fallen
elemental force
Haibun composed August 19/21
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
For my life, it has died.
For my life, it has died.
Someone cry someone cry.
My life was pretty,
it was upright.
She was the mother
of all alive.
She was murdered
in broad daylight.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
In the vicious
abyss of lies.
Amongst the people
verily lice,
She lived a life
of sacrifice.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
There are no mourners,
there are no sighs.
There is no sun
in all the sky.
The earth is frigid
without a light.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
There is no justice,
there are no cries.
There is no noise
of the uprights.
Sin is pretending
that all is right.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
For my life, it has died,
For my life, it has died.
Someone cry someone cry.
Stan even has a coloring book available on Amazon.com at https://www.amazon.com/Stan-Busy-Snail-Gail-DeBole/dp/B09MDVQLTR
____________________________________________________________
Poem written by Gail DeBole on 11/8/2015 and updated on 6/18/2018
Lying upside down
Unaware of upside down
A gust uprights Stan
Antenna Askew
Neck stretches to the heavens
The skew is gone
____________________________________________________________
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Stan the Snail's Point of View
Nobody ever sees a drop kick today.
The days of its popularity have gone away.
Look in the rule book; it’s still a legal play.
This is a move teams tend to avoid
since the ball took the shape of its familiar spheroid.
It is rare to get a true bounce when the ball touches the ground.
That is why attempts are practically never found.
However, a New England Patriots quarterback had no fears.
He performed the first drop kick in over sixty years.
The ball successfully went through the uprights for a score.
Since 2005, we have not been able to see anymore.
Information taken from the website of the Pro Football Hall of Fame
Villanelle: Only in democracies reigns surprise
Only in democracies reigns surprise
The majority cast their franchised rights
Elect CEOs who tell fat cat lies
In dictatorships the leader is wise
He elects himself and appoints his mites
Only in democracies reigns surprise
On election day leaders on the rise
By the hundredth day majority fights
Elect CEOs who tell fat cat lies
By end of first term majority dies
Wonders how they kept the leader uprights
Only in democracies reigns surprise
By start of second term the voter cries
Give us our oligarchy by rights
Elect CEOs who tell fat cat lies
In dictatorships people march in files
To show they don’t much care about rights
Only in democracies reigns surprise
Elect CEOs who tell fat cat lies.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Some times the wind comes hard
Under the eaves, and I
Rattle like a bundle of bones. Lard
All gone, friction fried the dry
The uprights against skin
Stretched like boards, elastic done
Yet I feel so whole within
It is the house, the soul is like the sun.
Tridents at the battlement confer
The majesty of uprights feeling proud
Will show the kind of Lilie's I'd prefer;
A showy, shiny, graceful, velvet shroud.
In all their glory, spanning out a clasp
Of well endowed positions each deserves:
And Lilie's found inspired, will make us grasp
At these achievement's made, it richly serves.
This fragile thing we call the peace of day;
Immaculate as heavens scent has brought
Transparent wings of angels seem to pray
In deeper, steeper depths of constant thought.
Producing with them this, the kind lament
Whose stories full of swans are swimming by;
A fairytale of love in each event:
And Cinderella's prince, a super guy.
From this, the plan of eiderdowns converge
With flutes of much ado's and come what may;
When spring is in the air we're on the verge
Of something really special, "Lily Day".
Mr nobody-can-catch me;
Many have passed to yonder by your rod of power,
you have kept millions weeping and wailing
while you are wining and dining on their inheritance
just because you want to rule this this terrestial ball.
Blood of the pure you have shed on the plains,
skulls of the saints you have scattered on the way,
the hearts of the uprights you have wounded and displaced
just because you want to have your way.
Your thoughts as fire rages with pain;
your words are arrows that bruises and slay
your services are thorns that shoke others' gain
just because you want to take hold of today.
Your backbones are favoured and sealed
but your competitors are captured and dismissed
your seeds are watered and cherished
while others' are scatered and purnished.
Mr stony heart,
Yesterday might be yours
and today is smilling at you,
even tommorow seems like a bonus share and a free asset
but a day will come that your arsenal will become a desert,
your mansions then will become dungeons
and bullets will be scarce in your riffle.
Then, you will be forced to cease fire.
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