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Ottar Apr 2019
Not these prose that may bloom and become rhymes,
unreasonable times squared , how have i faired?,
Thanks for asking, work is taxing, the least,
Of my worries, is finding words,  flock!
"Bird by bird" where are the people that read,
without pillaging, without burning,  and
Purifying, some flash mob dance, rough draft,
This a loose assembly of words,

proof of  life, Though the Store was not minded,
Where are?,
the watchers, from
While, dipping my toe,
in a West Coast ocean, member
of the North of the 49th Parallel
Poets Brigade, Canadian, but not pure
Ottar Apr 2016
J’ai Perdu Mon Couer

I kept all my childhood dreams
in the sweaty palms of my hands
and one after another they found a
regret and slipped

Jeg Mistett mitt hjerte

J’ai garde tous les rêves
dans la paume de mes mains
moites et l’un après l’autre ils
ont trouvé un regret et tranquillement
glissé ****.

I Lost My Heart

Jeg beholdt barndommen drommer
i  svett handflatene og etter hverandre
de fant anger go fled unna.

But that is not where I am.
I am a day dreamer
I am a dream chaser, all night long.
I am striding half empty
always to feel the joy, pouring
spilling over the edge of
my day into night. Running
down the sides of this vessel,
saturated with the pieces
of the dreams that stuck
to the sweat and in the pores
of these two hands of a man
that hide the child’s hands inside.

        De svarte skyene kjenner mitt navn
Yes, the black clouds know my name
        Les nuages noirs connaissent mon nom.

And I know the God that created this heart.
Je l’entends battre
Som Thors hammer
Using the keyboard to get the proper vowel and letter in language specific characters was hit and miss...sigh
Okay today was a translation poem, I could have tried Eng-Fr but I went Eng-Fr- Nor, and one line in one language lead into a verse of another, etc to you who are trained in translation, my apologies in advance, to those who are native to these languages, I hope I am close
if I am not shazbot nanu nanu
Ottar Apr 2016
I remember Reaching for your hand before we first kissed.

I remember Enjoying the warmth of our hands touching as did our lips.

I remember Measuring my words whispered in your ear, to take you beyond bliss.

I remember Every tasted breath, before we kissed.

I remember Minutes spent together, the blood pounding in my state of light headed

I remember Brown eyes drinking in my blue eyes, as we touched finger tips.

I remember Every tasted breath, before we kissed.

I remember Relishing the next time our hands would be closer than our lips.

I remember
the letter
you wrote
saying it was
better that
this was good-
bye, I was across
the country
and could
not test the
look in your
eyes, gone
cold. This
is very old.
First serious girlfriend thirty-seven years ago.

A B a A a b A B  rhyme scheme for the 8 lines
Ottar Apr 2016
She kills things.

"Roses are red, the violets are dead.”
She stopped, looked at her toes as she spoke.
Moving at full speed, Her hair flowed from her head .
The door suddenly ****** open, against the vase, which She broke.

Quickly, running, fast up the steps, to find Her granddad

She knew she was is in trouble, forgetting her grandparents warning.
Where the violets had been, there was a shimmering, growing lake.
She saw the garden, in full sun, that she watered that morning.
Bored, across the yard She skipped to count, how many would it take?

Surely done, it was playtime, strawberry stained lips, and no one around.

They left Her there to tidy up, shut off the water, and pick strawberries.
They put Her to work in the flower garden full of colour, and a few bees.
Grandpa said to Grandma, “that girl has a lot of cheek."
She said,"Roses have thorns, violets are weak”

She was the garden tempest.
Backwards story leads to poetry.
I may have missed this by a long ways, but I am glad I am no where near this spooky child.
Ottar Apr 2016
Her eyes matched her hair, and she watched me sit down there, at a small table.
There were two black tables small, with four chairs each, her eyes shut, she slept.
Her phone at her elbow, tension, burdened ****** features, i prayed.

I left her, I walked out, found a man bent over, a humble posture
At peace, bent head covered, his tobacco stained fingers laced, prayerfully.
He was a blue jean Jesus, beard bore the same stains as his rough hewn hands.

I passed by briskly and did not look him in the eye, walked down the street.
The blonde pole dancer next caught my eye, she wore short shorts that bared her thigh.
Her habit called, the street she knew, "No Fear, Little Sleep, and Need of Prayer"
seventeen - syllables and Long Lines
Ottar Apr 2016
Battle royal for a bottle of red.
Up the ante, we're going for Chianti!

Grant me kindness, pour a splash on my fettered tongue.
Up the ante, we're going for a thousand cases of Chianti!

Hoist the mains'l, sea dogs, raise the anchor, or you be hung!
Up the ante, the Cap'n is in a wanton need of Chianti!

Another wine won't do?
Up the ante, we know where they harbour the Chianti-shhhh

Wind be fast, my thirst is deep, as the desert is dry!
Up the ante, we're not paying' for the Chianti we're takin"

The ship from stem to stern, you get to clean, when we return, alive!
Up the ante, it is worth all the cases of Chianti, below decks we can hold!

Up the ante, we're putting' out to sea, we have a nose for good Chianti!
For when the Cap'n retires he will drink and
sing this Chianti Chanty at a seaside shanty, all day!
Chanty...nuff said
Ottar Apr 2016

Going out on run, in the full Sun
Helmet on my head, both hands on my... Rifle,

If you said "gun", drop and give your weapon 10 of your best pushups.
If this ain't fun, call you mom, call your dad, at mile ten they can pick you up.


Sound off ...
one,...  two,...  three,...  four,..  one,two,... three,four

I'll keep running when my legs turn to jelly
I'll finish this run, crawling on my belly

How far?
All the way!

You gonna quit??
No Way! Not today!!

Sound off ...
one,...  two,...  three,...  four,..  one,two,... three,four

one mile down nine to go!
just warming up on the road.


Don't let your rifle hit the ground,
When you need it most it might let you down.

Hold your rifle above your head
Yes sir, but I'd rather be dreaming in my bed

Sound off ...
one,...  two,...  three,...  four,..  one,two,... three,four


Are we there yet?
Closer than we were, you bet!
And this would go on intermittently during "forced marches", a forced march was usually at double time, or a some kind of run shuffle or run pace, often with helmet, rifle and web belt and all the accessories. This version, I cleaned and did a remix of a couple of cadence songs. Similar to a sea chanty because there was always an echo part for the troops/soldiers.
Militaries all over the world are renowned for their cadence songs, some units went to great lengths and much pride was put into these as boosting morale and the camaraderie was often the primary goal, that what ever you were going through you were not alone.
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