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 Nov 2017
Mike Hauser
Lydia loves the Lord...

Sees no reason not
Takes him at his word
Through battles being fought
The Spirit in her testifies
The God of Love
Is the giver of life
And that is why

Lydia loves the Lord...

Still sometimes she's afraid
Of the world that's just outside
And what it would make her give away
People speak in whispers
But she won't answer in kind
To make it through this life
And that is why

Lydia loves the Lord...

Knows it's worth the fight
Wise beyond her years
Beauty holds her tight
In and out is clear
A blessing she is here
As clear as day and night
And that is why

Lydia loves the Lord...
A beautiful soul I met on this site and am proud to call her friend.
 Oct 2017
GitacharYa VedaLa
The Classic (Horror)
*******

You dumb
Don't know how to do this?

You fool
Don't know what it is?

You *******
You don't know anything
Waste of a life

I wondered if
I'm good for at least eating.

He's your master
And THAT is his masterpiece
What have you got to show?
Go to him again.
Wait till he ratify you
My father brainwashed

Determined, I went back to the sir
I want to have my masterpiece

And soon I did have
My masterpiece
Not one.
Not two.
But many.

MASTERPIECES!!!

Since then
My master wasn't seen
By none

Any doubts?
Dedicated to master of macabre and king of humour poetry, Raj Arumugam sir
 Aug 2017
Nat Lipstadt
~ For Eliot York~
& Sally and Patty m
who convinced me to post it


The answer my friend is
but one,
just one.

Blessed are those who bless you.
I say it.
20 times a day,
and sometimes 2000


I have lived this life,
afraid to fail,
and in doing so,
in deed, because of it,
failed repeatedly.

yada, yada, yada,
in a gadda
da vida,
baby,
don't you know that I'll always be true.

nine lifetimes
all, longtime gone,
yet, I still talk among you all,
for which the
requiring, surviving,
is
a tiny tablet daily,
of swallowed pride, history and
adult/e/rated luck.

omnipotent natural forces,
pretend to manage human affairs
most unnaturally,
sandy gods of wind and storm
bring dämmerung's
Sturm und Drang.

these forces are the
placers, surveyors, tabulators
and ultimately the
takers
of the divine sparks within us.

yet,
before them,
on bended, torn knees,
I am humbled.

for knowing just
one read
is all it takes,
to be acknowledged and
thus begins a commencement of a life
of indentured servitude
in gratitude
to
le rêve poétique
(the dream poetic)

yet,
I.am read more oft
hundreds of times a day.
~
who could have foresaw,
prophesied this outcome,
a statistical anomaly,
that the taste of me
could be so,
miracle of miracles,
wet warm and well received.

know not this craft,
unaware of its conventions,
meter rhyme and to the
other laws of poetry,
I plead a woeful countenance,
even a willful ignorance.

yet,
here I am bowed
by the weight, of the good graces,
so many have bestowed,
from the four corners
of this Earth
and worlds beyond.

a nubile newcomer,
who long wrote to himself, for himself,
audience of
one + one = two,
the man and
his foolishness in words,
now betraying publicly
what no counselor, doctor judge or lover, lawyer ever knew,
even family.

but who are you?

plainly admit,
do not understand.

ok there is a handful times five,
we are well connected,
a small coterie who
share each others
most private painful secrets,
pari-passu-mutuel,
mots friends of faithfulness,
dare not, deign, diminish them
ever
by calling them followers,
for now they are friends

but who are the rest of you?

step forward,
identify yourself,
that upon thy neck
I may fall,
whispering in your ears,
sweet I.am thanksgiving yam-words

none of us can be a sweet poem pie
unacknowledged,
unstated, unsated, untasted
and forever believe.

it takes lioness courage
to present your naked self,
place thy head in the guillotine,
expecting the silent applause of ignorance,
expect to be ignored,
just another head in the collection basket,
accursing those who curse you with
the now quieted slaughtered lambs,
the scribe's swords of smoke,
plaintive waterwords vaporized,
seeds unplanted,
the bleating sounds silenced.

He crouched, he lay down like a lion
    and like a lioness; who will rouse him up?


I am a poet of the present,
you have brought me out of Egypt.

you have roused
my present days dying,
making my days of dwelling,
in the tent of Jacob,
an encampment of palm groves,
as a present
unto me.

The answer
is indeed just as you expected,
blowing in the wind,
through cedar trees beside the waters,
in the gardens, beside a river...

just one,
how thankful I.am to say,
blessed are those who bless you,
each and every
One.**

<•>
written so long ago the date was erased,
back when the journey of a thousand too long poems,
was just beginning
posted only because
a few of you insisted.
If perchance you think this is some kind of self-glorification,
then you don't get me at all.
<•>
"Good acts are like good poems.
One may easily get their drift,
but they are not rationally understood."
A. Einstein
~
"In a gadda da vida, honey
Don't you know that I'm lovin' you
In a gadda da vida, baby
Don't you know that I'll always be true

Oh, won't you come with me
And take my hand
Oh, won't you come with me
And walk this land
Please take my hand."

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/i/iron+butterfly/in+a+gadda+da+vid­a_20067936.html
~
Oh, oh
Talk to me some more
You know that you don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
You make things all rhyme.

Read more: Phoebe Snow - Poetry Man Lyrics | MetroLyrics
~~~
Numbers 24:5-9

5 How lovely are your tents, O Jacob,
    your encampments, O Israel!
6 Like palm groves[a] that stretch afar,
    like gardens beside a river,
like aloes that the Lord has planted,
    like cedar trees beside the waters.
7 Water shall flow from his buckets,
    and his seed shall be in many waters;
his king shall be higher than Agag,
    and his kingdom shall be exalted.
8 God brings him out of Egypt
    and is for him like the horns of the wild ox;
he shall eat up the nations, his adversaries,
    and shall break their bones in pieces
    and pierce them through with his arrows.
9 He crouched, he lay down like a lion
    and like a lioness; who will rouse him up?
Blessed are those who bless you,
    and cursed are those who curse you.”
 Aug 2017
Poetoftheway
"the ever shifting light of ourselves"
(a poem such as this)

For Jamadhi V.

<•>
8/28/17

at 11:09am,
the phrase arrests itself, then assertive,
ungently demanding fulfillment,
implanted, it cares not my whereabouts,
it is a child~phrase, inexact, mysterious,
wanting its breast milk feeding immediate
no matter where my presence visible

but to me, it stinks of familiarity,
for my shifts, my redrawn shapes,
exhausting, giving me cause to grieve,
write poems such as this,
which I regret both
before~after conception~completion,
written in a fevered misery of fervor,
hoping,
no one ever likes it and its witnessing

as light ever shifts,
it consumes, extinguishes, reignites,
poorly lit, revealing dregs and dustbins

better then to sit in the darkness
the one you call,
getting it over with...

6:00pm
<•>

~~~~~~~~

*the swelling and the spume


for Lucy:

who gave me the title, three poems, a compliment, and the X Factor {inspiration}
~~~
the spume, the sea foam concentrate,
a greener white
by the the salt and the souls of the
million dead organisms,
that are are the compost of its formation,
it, watches the poet, who watches the spume,
come ashore for its final act of
immolation by evaporation

which is why the random act of
an unseen ministering force,
fills my ears with humbling glory of
Samuel Barber's Agnus Dei,^
my fresh reminder that this swelling chest
in this temporary abode of mine,
by the sea, passage is prepaid for my
expiration by evaporation too,
all lambs march to the sea,
returning to spume
~
Lyrics to Agnus Dei:
^ Alleluia Alleluia
For our Lord God Almighty reigns
Alleluia Alleluia
For our Load God Almighty reigns
Alleluia
Holy Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
You are Holy
Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Amen

~~~~~~

"may all my lost lovers haunt me"

for Vinnie Brown

even your kindergarten crushes?

what burdens you seek to retain,
the edgy border of delicious and pain is a raggedy cut line,
as lost lovings rhymes with duality

Once upon a time,
a middle aged man
left the woman he married,
the one who drained and cruel reigned
over the destruction of his-dreams
for one accidentally stumbled into,
the love who blurred his edges as well,
between forgotten happiness and
pain so bad when she grew tired
of his life's complications and the
valises of drama,
she left him,
weeping on the corner of Broadway and 83rd Street

was that 20, 30 years ago?
a memory
from no matters land
but
the physical ache that marred the hearth in the chest for months and months,
sent him to the doc who smiled sweetly
but gave him, had no, no relief for busted grownup hearts
that had normal  EKG's

and that remains a treasured affirmation to this day of
life's capacity to love that comes with an ingrown danger
of never forgetting

did you know the French outlawed the use of the term
Mademoiselle in '12 (Mlle.)?

I loved that salutation,
calling my one true lovers
with the soft feminism of that address

and still do

and you want to recall
kindergarten crushes?

Mister Vinnie
possesses a lovely contradiction,
holding onto
lost lover sickness
that lives on in good love poems

this my new found poet
is how that he, this aching heart,
fast approaching his shore line for one last return and final departure
repays a sweet compliment,
from one who complements
another man's lovely's insane desire to
never forget any of it

~~~~~~*

reading love poetry and listening to
Joni M.,
at 3:09AM
never wise,
but always full of hindsight
 Aug 2017
Sally A Bayan
...........run long...
... seeming to end at one point,
........yet, in truth, they just go on
.............for, currents are ceaseless
.................they find their own paths
......................they symbolize continuity.
...........................r i v e r s .....r u n...l o n g....


(Harlon Rivers....you are your name)


Sally

Copyright August 30, 2017
rrab
...a humble poem for you, Harlon Rivers...
...peace to you always , dear friend...
...your return is most awaited......
 Mar 2017
Denise huddleston
As I walk along the beach rubbing my belly
Remembering that it felt like jelly

Anticipating how handsome you are going to be
I prayed for you to be healthy and strong like me

Everyday I would talk and sing to you
Knowing that you was listening and singing with me too

Feeling every kick and tumble
Brought joy to my heart which made my heartbeat rumble

I always protected you with all my might
Even when I was in danger and about to fight

I knew you was going to be so cute
I couldn't hardly wait for that birthday suit

The day finally came December 7th 1994
Out you came almost in the store

You was a fighter a perfect little boy as perfect as a sparkling diamond
Your eyes was brighter then the sunshine that shined around the island

I was the happiest mommy there ever was I was so blessed
As you grew and got older I was always amazed by your finesse

You have grown into the perfect son,and an amazing man
I never could have asked for anything better as if it was all planned

Happy Birthday my son
You shine so bright like the sun

I love you with all my heart
My love is off the chart
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Wrote this for my son on his birthday, he cried he loved which made my heart melt :)
 Mar 2017
Melissa S
I wish to go back to being little
back when things were fun
and just stayed simple
I may be getting older
but I refuse to grow up :)

Today...
I could buy a new dress
I could pretend to be a princess
or not
But I will love til I can love no more
and will always be more thankful
than I was the day before

Do I smell cake? Yessssssss!!!!
Age is just a number
 Feb 2017
Sally A Bayan
A
S
w e
.tread
....along
...the paths
of life,  comes
a time when roads
t u r n   to  z i g z a g s
sometimes beaten, painful
to walk on...and the blue sky
darkens to gray...and the clouds
hide from us, and the sun sets, and
we need arrows and rays to guide  us
t h r o u g h:::::
]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]
From nowhere
.........any hour
y o u    appear
b r i g h t     as
morning  s u n
your   BEAMS
ILLUMINATE
you are a light
that guides us
.....through the
[[[ D A R K ]]].

...For Timothy...

Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...found this older poem...from three years ago...written for Timothy...
...I repost...for Timothy...
When first I saw your ink on paper
It plucked me to do tender similar
I loved the way your thoughts did flow
It made my own words seed to sow

Brave and bold my thoughts you see
To try to be like greats the key
But when my ink well ran its course
Emily, my devoted force

Can I love you now in shadow?
My thoughts are past in sorrow
Just take it as the wind will blow
Handsome words that sometimes flow

Your memory will live on in me
And others too, as it should be
Thank you for the lovely words
Quivering flight like hummingbirds
Dedicated to Emily Dickinson
 Jan 2015
Tryst
Oh father dear, petrarchan patriarch,
Thy gifted words of thy divinity
Portray the depth of thine own trinity,
And blessed are we who know thy craftsman's mark

And Blessed Are Thee, Thy Daughter Marian,
Who Walks In Beauty Like The Bright Sunlight
Where Flowers Grow And Faeries Do Delight
To Dance In Summer Glade and Autumn Glen

And Hilda, blessed are thee and all that's thine,
The gloom of shadowed valley thou has known
Yet love and life shall ever be thine own,
Oh blessed are thee and all thou holds divine

For thee, thy Hilda and thy Marian,
My blessings always and anon,

                         Amen.
A humble response to "Tribute Sundry: Tryst"
By Timothy: http://hellopoetry.com/timothy/
 Oct 2014
Niveda Nahta
people change,
situations tear them apart,
opportunities bring them closer..
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