A TRIBUTE TO HELLO POETRY

This will be a long write.
There are so many I wish
to honor and thank.

Please, if you can, pull up
Bruce Cockburn's song
Maybe the Poet on YouTube.
Listen to the words as you read this.
It will greatly add to your enjoyment.

I play no favorites...
you ALL are class acts!

Here's a tribute. Yep. It's long!
But listen to Bruce Cockburn's song.
I want to emulate what's sung
Yes, not miss a poet, one!

ryn has got a range of art
Ded Poet's got a poet's heart
elsa angelica's soul resounds
Bhumika's a dove
with a golden crown!

Wolfspirit's pen can spill his love
Wonderman's ink from up above
sjr...1000 words so wise
Scarlet Pimpernel's talent's
not disguised!

Joe Malgeri's a spiritual gent
Paige Pots' work is heaven sent
Tivonna has love for natural things
Helena's work has roots and wings!

Pradip, in my eyes number one
as is Thomas A Robinson
jeffrey robin's style is loose and bold
Rupal has a heart of gold!

John Stevens has an earthy wit
Pax means peace, his candle's lit
Tryst's ballads are a perfect fit
and I love Lidi Minuet!

donna's sweet as honeydew
Jason Cole fits like a shoe
Prttybrd sings songs with style
Day Wing flies! He has a smile!

Deborah's walking on her beach
her talent has a range and reach
Rapunzel let's her hair way down
Weeping Willow
has a pleasant sound!

Joe Cole loves all fantasy
SSilkenTounge has a mind that's free
Solaces is a very old friend
I hope to see Botan again!

Urmilla writes beyond her years
Chalsey Wilder writes bring tears
Tonya Maria and I share pain
Wise is K Balachandran!

CA Guifoyle lives in my town
Adam Childs' the best around
SE Reimer can put us in the mood
Musfiq us Shaleheen
Is so VERY good!

Richard Riddle honors with poetry
Love my collab, Arcassin B!
Sally A Bayan's good and kind
Hayden Swan's a real find!

Love comments from Joe Adomavicia
zik, I'm always glad to see ya!
TGWLY has a heart that hurts
Erenn Y does heartfelt works...

Elizabeth Squires has classic writes
Frank Ruland's fights
for what is right
And if a scare you want to see
just look up POETIC T!

Oh! There are SO many more!
There are poets by the score!
I don't want to be a bore
But read them ALL! You will be
FLOORED !!!

MORE POETS!!!

Lori Jones McCaffery
Kalypso
Niamh Price
Mya Angel
Mike Hauser
Vicki
Ignatius Hosiana
Frankie J
Chris Green
mark cleavenger
brandon nagley
Winn
Puds (Pete)
Deborah Brooks Langford
Timothy
Marian
Hilda
Harriet Tecumsah Watt
it's gonna make sense
mybarefootdrive
Dark n Beautiful
WL Winter
Margaux
Pamela Rae
Venusoul7
Eddie Starr
Olivia Kent
Brenden Thomas
Zoe
Raj Arumugam
Elijah
Sukeerti
Manny
M.A.N
Jonny Angel
Dylan Mitchell
James M Vines
bulletcookie
i am miss brightside
Chris Fracc
Cat
Ocean Blue
Phil Lindsay
Mike Hauser
PearlSy
Christi Michaels Moon Flower
Raj Nandy
SPT
PoETEPETE Now RePETE After PETE
Makayla Kelly
Paul Gafney
Nan Trapp Messer
Chloe
Steven Langhorst
Daniel Palmer
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
C A Guilfoyle
TRAVELLER
Soul
GitacharYa VedaLa
Rosalind heather Alexander
S R Matts
Paul Gattney
Danny Mak
patty m
liv frances
Gary L
Ngamau Boniface
IOWA
Earl Jane
ber
Justin G
James
ste'phanie noir
born
Aztec Warrior


Last but not least... olestoryteller
and Francie Lynch! Ketoma Rose!

over death we ponder too much
or none at all
but not upon the landmark most difficult to touch

living life well.

am i living my life well?

no, money can't help achieve
nor a good career of success

you know it too well not to believe
they do any better than robbing happiness.

then is it a nice wife and a loving family
kids to hug, comfort you generously?

no, not really, they still aren't enough to ensure
fullness of life as may only briefly endure.

then what is it that makes life lived well

a good sleep to tide the night
a roof over to dwell?

doing just what you like or minding the other's wish
let your desires run wild or hold them under leash?

to me it's a mystery getting answer to which I fail
the parameters of a life, having lived thoroughly well.

but over time I've realized, deep in, its echoes ring,

living life well has a lot to do
with being contented with smallest thing.

Reading the works by Sally, Vicki, Catherine(SoulSurvivor), Ryn, Deborah, Elizabeth, and Pamela Rae, is akin to drinking champagne from a crystal flute. Me, cheap beer from a Mason Jar.

copyright:(revised) June 03, 2015

Hot !
   it was delta hot

With only two choices . . .

   for breakfast we had scrambled eggs
   toast and hate

The postman waved as he
   brought more papered threats

Taking with him all the promises of a better
   day

The cut took 21 stitches to heal but it
   let out all your will

Overwhelmed , the stars have all fallen
   out of the night sky

The street sweeper comes and
   washes them down the gutter

i.


monet's passion written in
whispering tears.
the still lake smoulders
in ripples, all shadows and smoke.

a dragonfly presses the air
into whir, memories in my
pocket saddled to fire.


ii.


the air murmurs with death-shouts.

is this to sink, deep in a dungeon
of opulent blue

or to shimmer, iridescent
like a moon-lamp, empress
of ocean green and river blue
beyond the stilling light.


iii.


this is a bed of decadence
drowned moment of golden fire
in the sipped leaves that trumpet
to the clouds, that this is their day to
die.


iv.


water lily, white light of the pond
following the drowning dark,
flower of drifting quiet,
flower of dream.


v.


root treading past
the stillness of dusk,
utter existence,
daughter of the moon,
daughter of the silence.

A cross of wood


Tis the carpenters son on a cross of wood
To slay him the soldiers in hood
tis day in calvary stood
blood of lamb shed for good

Tis the  King born in a manger
Yet to none a stranger
time he cried for water
yet to get bitter vinegar

Tis the son of Almighty in heaven
Times in the cross he cried seven
For Our  dues he made even
A Prayer for his foes to be forgiven


Tis the son of God crowned with thorn
 For our sins his flesh torn
For tis the pupose he was born
Darkness to end in a joyous morn

And one day it will come
It will stop you right in your tracks
Arrest your heart
Leave you breathless
As desperation moves into your blood
You will feel like a child
Who has been deprived of laughter and
Cheated out of Ferris wheel rides
That day will come
When you feel like
Inescapable space between a
Suicidal Mack truck driver
And an industrial concrete wall
That day…
That day is the very day
You realize that you spent
More time calculating risk
Waiting for a better time
The day that failing and
Moving on becomes more attractive
Than fear of failing
That day…
Would be the day
That you are no longer exempt
From the age that has crept in
When you reckon
That time is a priceless
Commodity in a nasty
Affair with limitations
And I…
I will be gone
I won’t be found by you
Because I…
Have lived that day
And I…
Will be cutting the Ferris wheel line
While I have the time

Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.

All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.

I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.

I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.

I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.

But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.

Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.

Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.

Mike and Liz are taking a road trip
They're riding in a stretch limo's zip
Across America's vast landscape strip
Taking turns at driving the shinny black ship

Liz though prefers to ride in the back
Where she can keep the sun roof all the way cracked
With a big toothy grin and a sweet girly laugh
This to her is where life is at

On Route 66 with Mike at the controls
The radio blaring Joe Cocker Rock & Roll
Tapping the steering wheel in a sweet beat
As he gazed through the Oklahoma heat

Passing a cop doing a hundred and ten
In the blink of an eye, fast as the wind
By the time the cop figured what just went down
Mike and Liz were five miles out of town

They picked up a hippie hitch hiking in Kentucky
Told them today they were both lucky
After winning a big heist down at the track
They could buy plenty of gas and diner snacks

While at the first diner when they turned their backs
He slipped a little something into the drinks that they had
Left over from Woodstock, you know those were the days
From that point on the trip was one long psychedelic haze

Somehow they ended up in a place called Strawberry Field
Where they danced around the Californian mountain wield
Their journey becoming stranger mile after mile
Getting to their destination with the widest of smiles

Taking the limo to the edge of the tide
With the Pacific Ocean as deep as it is wide
The trip at it's end putting the limo in drive
Both stood on the shore as they waved it bye, bye