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When I am gone,
find me in the
slow, creeping morning light
at dawn
when the dew glistens
and returns to its creator.

When I am gone,
find me in the sparrow
that swoops and bends
to find the perfect place
in a giving tree.

When I am gone,
find me in the genuine smiles
of those around you
whom you fill with great joy.

When I am gone,
find me in the radiant sun
peaking through the clouds
giving light to the world.

When I am gone,
feel my love
for my love is a candle
ever burning, never fading,
always understanding that
sometime we will meet again
soon.
By A Foreigner

I like Americans.
They are so unlike Canadians.
They do not take their policemen seriously.
They come to Montreal to drink.
Not to criticize.
They claim they won the war.
But they know at heart that they didn't.
They have such respect for Englishmen.
They like to live abroad.
They do not brag about how they take baths.
But they take them.
Their teeth are so good.
And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.
I wish they didn't brag about it.
They have the second best navy in the world.
But they never mention it.
They would like to have Henry Ford for president.
But they will not elect him.
They saw through Bill Bryan.
They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.
Their men have such funny hair cuts.
They are hard to **** in on Europe.
They have been there once.
They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.
And Jiggs.
They do not hang lady murderers.
They put them in vaudeville.
They read the Saturday Evening Post
And believe in Santa Claus.
When they make money
They make a lot of money.
They are fine people.
 Dec 2014 icelandicblue
Onoma
A farmhand skips the afar of the perceiving
end...a jittery candle-lit sun reenters the
chased oils of its pastoral painting.
A teetering haunt fleshed out...to see
through the sense of place...a movement
of images that will never be seen.
An inflection of a voice that will never be
heard...the imperceptible relationship
between opacity and transparency.
Forever to be taken away by he/she...
merely passing through...passing away...
a farmhand skips the afar of the perceiving
end...open endedly.
A jittery candle-lit sun reenters the chased
oils of its pastoral painting...a bird's ellipse,
counterpointed by amazing graces.
Inspired by a random painting that hung in my grandmother's house, I used to get utterly lost in it.
In order the heart, keep running without knowledge
Of the living torch, of the soiling fires that wipe
Hopes memory, the boiled blood must breathe
In a sea of borders, of waves and rushing tides.

In order the heart, beats time, though it knocks,
Near breaks, as the wind that swoons is divining
Treasure, the jewel in the box of flesh must hold,
Must shore the rivers of the branching bleed.

In order the heart, is closed, and dry of touches
Towering keep, let the eye know mercy, let the seas
That travel with the bones never feel the marching
Desert, the hollow caves of the discarded lovers.
 Dec 2014 icelandicblue
Jack
~

Here in my arms I hold you, soothe you
Tightly, to never let go
Warmth to comfort sorrow
Safety for I shall not let anything hurt you

“All that I am I give in hopes of your smile”

As tears fall on wrinkled sleeves
Weeping eyes dried if only temporary
Close to me, within my grasp
Rest my love, soundly between minutes passing

“As times disappears, my love for you is steadfast”

By your side I will remain
No matter the moments of fear, worry, emptiness
I will be your strength, lean on me
For nothing will challenge my stance

“Weakness will not deter this affection I have for you”

Broken hearts, shattered pieces mingle with sad memories
If I could change places with the one you lost, I would
Freely fall to dark places, leave the sun behind
So that your happiness may return

*“For my life is nothing, without your joy”
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