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1
My name is Tom. I live with mom.
I have some Giant issues.
I'm such a wreck. Hang on a sec.
I need some Giant tissues.

#2
When I sneeze, there's such a breeze.
Trees and houses tumble.
They get so mad, it makes me sad
To hear the people grumble.

#3
I'd run and hide, but last I tried,
I fell and hit the ground.
The valley rumpled, the mountains crumpled—
You should have heard the sound.

#4
A young boy, only two—
I was the same as you.
I was bigger by three
And by four,
I grew more—
I was almost as tall as a tree.

#5
It’s hard to sit,
find clothes that fit,
And friends?
I’ve never had one.
They’re scared of me,
But they can’t see—
I am really fun.

#6
One morning,
without warning,
a storm began to brew.
The rain fell,
the river swelled,
and thunder rumbled through.

#7
The river rose, it spilled and flowed—
It rushed right through the town.
The people screamed,
the houses leaned,
And fences tumbled down.

#8
I stomped my foot—
a hole I put
in a field by the town.
One stomp did make
a giant lake,
must be two acres round.

#9
The river waned,
despite the rain.
The people stood and cheered.
“Oh, so brave—
the town he saved,
the Giant that they feared!”

#10
Smiling faces,
welcome places
greet me every day.
My troubles ended,
now befriended—
they invited me to stay.

#11
Ten years have passed,
my friends at last—
in peace and love I live.
I wake each day,
searching for a way
to my friends, a gift to give.

#12
One final thought—
the love I sought
was always mine to claim.
“My friend,” said Elf,
“just love yourself,
and your story ends the same.”
I wrote a children's book.  I teach grades K-8 so I'm at similar level of maturity.  I hope your inner child enjoys this!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
MEMORIAM FOR MY UNCLES

Arthur Benjamin Franklin: my Unca Artie, my favorite. A High School football star, known as Red Franklin, he was famous for his dark red hair.  He used to chuck me into deep water at Chrystal Pool to terrify me for 5 seconds, then hoist me onto his broad shoulders.I suspect I was his favorite too.  War came and he had to go.  I cried and cried on the herringbone patterned bricks at the train depot in Kelso. I have a v-mail he sent to my mom, his sister, dated 1942.  He was a belly gunner on the B-17’s that  were flying the area where Rommel was fighting.  He brought my sis and I back little leather suitcases, tooled in wonderful designs by a skilled artist somewhere in the orient. I still have it.  A treasure.

Grover Cleveland Franklin: My suave uncle, joined the Navy in WWII and became a deep sea diver. The kind that wore those heavy suits with the big glass bubble head.  He helped detect and destroy mines around battleships.  In doing that brave work he lost his hearing and came home as a lip reader for most of my childhood. I was always  a bit suspicious because he seemed to read lips so well. He even got written up in the newspaper because he could sing while putting his hands on a phonograph and feeling the vibrations of the music he couldn’t hear. We kids would always try to make loud noise behind him but he never once reacted to it.
Many years later I learned that he confessed that his hearing had gradually came back.  He was a hero nevertheless.

About their names: Both being born in North Carolina, back in the 1920’s it was common practice among the country folk to name sons after famous people.  I also have another distant relative named George Washington Franklin. I love having hillbilly DNA.
This will be up only until tomorrow.. Should have gone up last night. Bad Me.
 May 31
Willow
Just a girl with
All the colours of the rainbow
Flickering behind her eyes.
The dullness of masks,
Of confusion,
Dulls the shine.
But when you look deeper,
Into her soul,
You see it brightening.
Ideas weave through like a river,
In the grassy fields of thought.
You see the hopes, the dreams, the fears,
Planted like seeds.
When she smiles,
The room lights up with the joy,
The sincerity,
Of the girl painted with all the colours of life.
Wrote this for school, idk how much I like it, but I wanted to share it anyway<3
 May 31
Marshal Gebbie
Oh Tzar of ******'s bleaching bone
Thee of blood soaked terror's home
Whilst striding from thy crimson cusp,
Anointing children, dead at dusk,
Weeping mothers, poets slain
You sip from goblets brimmed with pain
Soldiers fall at your command,
Prayer unheard across the land
And hatred drips from those who sing
Thy death-- the dawn's red sun shall bring.

The whispers of unearthly screams
Breath the foulness of your dreams,
Touch the agony, the flame,
Ignited in your tyrant brain
Treachery becomes thy ilk
A garrote soaked in mother's milk,
The stiletto to the small of back
An assassin's terminal attack.

No vespers from thy closest friend,
No grief at matrimony's end,
No crowds lamenting in the square
Just cold, hard earth awaits you there....
Gone those groveling to win,
Gone the subservient, then within,
Gone that snap of fast salute
Now curses flail with lashing boot.

Now the curled successor's grin .....
Thy image ---
A forgotten thing.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
Putin, the Dictator, the tyrant....what a fragile world he lives in. Borne of his own cruelty, heartlessness and ego. Generating a blatant and everlasting hatred in the generations he has oppressed, the only way out of his quandary is a violent death, a coffin, probably instigated by his closest compatriots or his family, maybe even his wife.....What makes a tyrant seek this life? What makes him dwell in his sphere of suspicion, envy and jealousy; What endears him to the hatred he has meted out to all the vulnerable in his realm?

HAS HE NO FEAR?
 May 27
Mark Bell
Me
Sitting on a branch
High upon a tree
I am wondering
Upon my own
Sexuality.
Am I going to
Be pigeon holed
Why can’t I
Just be me.
Problem is not me
It’s ******* society.
 May 25
Traveler
In the land of milk and honey, within the rocks, the water flows. The love of life is dangling, from a chain of forever wars…
Each a part they look away, unconcerned and unafraid.
Unaware the masses move, while their bombs drop on you.
Obscure , the hand we’ve been dealt, turn the device off, toss it on the shelf! Never mind what you heard, this world must be purged.
Purged of them over there,
Lydia, Syria how could
nobody cared?
The Nuremberg trials and **** Germany, we surely do forget.
Yet the identical road is beneath our feet, in each and every step!
Traveler Tim
The tides of destination
have invaded my beloved estuary
Rising fast in deliberation
Washing away the righteousness that I once held dearly deep within

Seeking to bend the reeds of  resistance
the muddy waters of disdain come rushing in

They are lunatically overpowering
Driven to dominate the spirit that I
once held sacred free of sin
 May 20
Liana
Can I stop your reading of poems for a moment?
It will just take one second I promise
I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you

You may be thinking how I do not know you
But if you’re reading this
That must mean you’re still alive
And that is more difficult than it seems

I want to let you know
That you’re loved

And yiu may be thinking about how I have no idea
But I do
Because I love you

And I just wanted to remind you
That it wasn’t your fault
It wasn’t your fault
You did your best, dear

It wasn’t your fault

I just want to tell you that the sun was proud of you this morning
Because you got up
The moon was proud because you made it one more day
And your body was proud because yiu kept letting it store you soul for one more sunset
PLEASE message me if you ever need a listening ear, and J truly mean it. You are doing incredible.

Okay yiu can go back to poetry reading now ❤️❤️❤️
Time when inspiration
Knocked at my door
Its visit always welcome
I would feed it well
All satiated, with a warm heart,
wishing me happiness,
it would gently depart

Now I tend to ignore
As I do the chores,  
Or simply while away
An umpteenth time
A sullen face and dewy eyed
Unrevoked
Inspiration gathers dust
At some wanting door
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