smoking his "peace pipe",
Pontificating about
this and that,
he doesn't know a *******
thing,
but he has an opinion about
everything,
always certain
seldom right,
you'd be glad
you're not
his kid or his wife.

The old guy with the peace
pipe,
don't ask him anything,
he'll tell you about
everything.

You're ****** if you do,
you're ****** if you don't,
better go elsewhere
while the getting is good.

There are details you
don't want to even know,
you don't gotta love 'em,
they don't love you.

But when you're looking
in his eyes while he's
smoking his pipe,
you just know
in your heart
it's going to
be alright.

~~~<♡>~~~

a rose, they say, will have a thorn
which can't destroy nor ****
it only serves to give its bloom
a scent that's sweeter still
when the tender growing thing
is planted in the dust
no water for it's thirsty roots
only drying crust
it will be a cactus
full of prickly spines
but cacti have their flowers
their fruit can make rich wine
we all have our emotions
we all can feel pain
but when it makes us better
then only love remains
when we are hurt and wounded
on my very oath
we can still be grateful
such stoic trust brings

GROWTH


soulsurvivor
(C) 9/3/2015

In Loving Memory
Joseph Wulf
R.I.P.
  8-31-2015  
☆●♡●☆

Tonight my friend could not
breathe. Lungs ravaged from
long ago. Served our country as a
young man. Shoulders, hip n' leg
bones broke by the jungles below.

A Harley Man through
and through.
JFD's became his Corps.
Never wavered in his allegiance
to his country or his force.

One of the smartest men
I have ever known.
Could recite passages from
long ago. Abreast of topics
from far and wide
a history buff so knowlegable.

A brother to many, a father to one.
Devoted to all he loved.
A truer friend could not be had
So very popular he was!!

Joe was my protector,
as I was a wild young thing.
Was my confidant and
chaperone starting at just 17.

Accompanied first date with
my husband 30 years ago.
Gave his blessings that first night~
To my children he was Uncle Joe.

The older brother I never had.
Blessed to love him 40 years.
My whole being trembles at the
thought of losing him.
I weave Love between these tears.

☆●♡●♡●☆
~Christi Michaels~April 2015~
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.

☆●♡●☆  Ode to Joe  ☆●♡●☆
This poem was written upon Joe
entering Hospice in April 2015.
His sisters provided
Constant Vigil and Loving Care.
Joe passed on 8-15-2015
This was read at Joes Military Burial
Fort Snelling National Cemetery
Fort Snelling, Minnesota
8-31-2015

By Arcassin Burnham


The electricity of your smile covered
In Golden seeds,
I'll be sure that everything will be alright,
Wind blowing in grass fields,
5 dollar pizza deals,
We sure had a great night,
But if i sacrifice my heart in your ritual
Of being true to me,
It will be groovy , it'd be out of sight,
Drive me crazy , my skin I'll peel,
Its your heart I wanna steal,
This drawing of you looks pretty right?!!
For all of my soul prospers,
Trying to avoid the coppers,
Wars, dying , people screaming,
In the smoke with all the choppers,
You were right there waiting for me to save you,
The discontinuation will not ever prosper,

All of our memories are out today,
Blasting in the face creativity,
Pretty shallow but I'd say it's actually quite,
The sunset shining in the grass fields,
In my bed , I always liked the way you feel,
Will I go to bed again? I might,
Beautiful blessings in the ways we move
And creep,
For the cause , wouldn't put up a fight,
Kissing your lips , we love to seal,
The padlocks that are made of fine steel,
As long as I see you in sight,
love is old
love is new
love is old
me and you
We're gonna live a happy life,
And If I have to be a heart-strucked immigrant,
I swear I'll put it right.

(When The Rains Come)

Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow

Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...

In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations

Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.

Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.

Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.

The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?


Sally

Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Yesterday was tough
Tougher than before
It broke me down inside
Left me crumbled on the floor
But then I remembered
the semicolon

Today was hard
Harder than before
It killed my soul a little
Left me bleeding on the floor
But then I remembered
the semicolon

A small mark
Seems insignificant
But when examined further
Becomes magnificent
An authors way
Of saying hold on
don't give up just yet
there is plenty more to come

Tomorrow will be painful
More painful than before
It will break me down
Leave me broken on the floor
But I will remember
Forever more
That small, simple mark
Giving out hope for all

*the semicolon