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Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.
Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.
Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.
The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.
This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Canadian pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.
Remembrance Day, Canada
 Nov 2024 betterdays
JD
read to me
 Nov 2024 betterdays
JD
“these are classics”
he tells me
but i can barely listen,
focused on his voice
his eyes
his heart
his kindness
i do not need
to go to heaven
i have already
seen it all
down here
with you
 Nov 2024 betterdays
アラン
Not a rock
carved smooth ovate
immutable in ossified intent

but an egg
quiescent peacock hues
hatching in YOUR imagination
In a lonely darkened pit I wander,
some might call it hell
but it's far too familiar
every texture, every smell.

It's been with me for so long
I choose to call it home
this cold and lonely labyrinth
of desperation that I roam.

Searching in vain for my true love fair

Crying out her name hoping she'll be there,
but only the wind will answer
echoing her name,

taunting me and haunting me
is it all just a dream.

An opioid delusion as a field of poppies I cross.

Breathing in a fragrance nearly as intoxicating as her,
down the rabbit hole I tumble
everything becomes a blur.

Alice sweet Alice
won't you please come home.

This is no wonderland since you've gone.
now on my you tube channel

ww.youtube.com/@tsummerspoetry
Tangerine and honey drip in equal measure
on the finely woven silk
that lightly covers you.

As my tongue takes its pleasure
I can barely discern.
where the silk stops and your skin begins.

The sound of your sighs
and a rise in temperature
tells me I've found a sweet spot.

A soft spot, goose flesh and shivers,
not just yours but my own.

Had I known such joys could awaken,
I would have mistakenly
spilled the honey long ago.
https://youtu.be/nY1xgoNG9Ro?feature=shared
this poem has been added to my you tube channel
please copy and paste above text or search
@tsummerspoetry on you tube
 Nov 2024 betterdays
CA Guilfoyle
Night in this field of snow
the dark crushing cold
how long this winter
that’s come again
how long the spring
river that slowly wends
the heat and sear of summer's fever
the bruising cold of this November
how long for us to mend?
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