in Honor of my father**

He was born in Isle La Monte
In nineteen twenty six
Son of a plot farmer
The soil to plant and mix

He was a good student
A good lad as a rule
In the winter he would trek
Twelve miles to go to school

An IQ test was given
I will not debate
My father came in second
For the record of the state!

He did achieve much excellence
I think you will agree
He paid his own way
To go to MIT

He served his country loyally
He was a navel man
Was ranked at RT-4
On a LST landing craft

He manned the radio towers
And handed up the shells
The Kamakazi dove to ****
In Okinawa's hell...

He is a faithful husband
And a father who's bar none
If my father'd been on the other side
I believe they would have won!

Now he's on the Dream Flight
To Washington DC
And I tell you that his daughter

Is as proud as proud can be!!!

out side my window is a willow tree
windy days, if I set quiet, it whispers to me
some days it talks of life, and last chances
some days it talks of love, and romances
another day it whispers of just, this and that
there are days by myself its nice for a chat
on days I am feeling bad, it whispers sad
and it tells me that things will be alright
it whispers in the day, it whispers in the night
I listen often in bed as my head lays on the pillow
happy that I have, a whispering willow*...JMF

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack

Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.

Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
   Easy is for them to find an easy case
            for their own taste
     - a goal for their own base.

Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.

I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
        pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.

Sometimes I am like a rock
   too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.



*© 2014 Pax

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

You are not my children,
tender as you are.
You are not my lover,
though you cause my heart to yearn.
You are not my sun,
or my moon,
or my star.

I set you on this rock;
you will not make me burn.

You are simply sticks,
arranged upon the pyre.
You are clever tricks,
though you flaunt my clear desire.
You are not the match,
or the wick,
or the fire.

I set you on this rock;
To see what might transpire.

You will never be a pheasant's egg to be coddled.
You are only this: a calf led to the slaughter.

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

I take a storm and make myself swallow a hurricane
It gets stuck on the way down and rips me apart
No one ever told me not to take on too much
MORE MORE MORE
Take in more
I can handle it
Swallow it down
There is no need for breaths of air in between
I can take it
My back is cracking evenly down my spine
Eyes all over as I start to bend
Straighten up
I will take it
They pile on me like bricks and sandbags, thrown off your shoulder and onto mine
As you tell me you don't want to burden me
You untie the weights on your ankles and strap them to my wrists
MORE MORE MORE
My arms are open and bleeding
Pins hold my lips to the corners of my eyes
I am being crushed under the weight
I have to take it
Hooks connected to strings nestle into the exposed skin on my hands, holding me up as my knees snap and bend
Give me your weight
I'll take it down with me as it drives me into the hard soil
I can handle it
I can take it
I will take it
I have to take it