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 May 2017 John Niederbuhl
ryn
Spin a web...
a little tale...
with the
unwavering voice that
tells of limitless grandeur.

Weave the
finest threads of imagination,
laced with infinite magic...
into a spectacle...
of spellbinding tapestry.

Cast your palette,
unto canvas...
brush with the strokes of
your heart's shackled candour.

String your words
into phrases,
into sentences
that turn into beguiling jewels
that we...
only we...

see as poetry.
 May 2017 John Niederbuhl
ryn
Escape
 May 2017 John Niederbuhl
ryn
I want to run
till there's no more road

I want to fly
till there's no more sky

I want to sail
till there's no more sea

I want to write
till my ink runs dry
Cookies and milk,
The allure drew me in.
As I opened the door on
That warm, Spring day,
The fresh scent of home baked
Raisin oatmeal cookies filled
The air.

Aunt Charlotte
Welcomed me in
With open arms
And a wonderful smile
That nothing can compare.

Just an ordinary recipe
With no special ingredients,
Made with love and great
Care--
Aunt Charlotte and me--
Oh! What a pair.
My father wrote this poem...
I fell in love with it the instant I read it...
I sit down with the Myth of Amherst
And soon troubles and worries
I forget.

I look to see if her verse still breathes
And find with hearty satisfaction
They do still yet.

I entwine myself in her arrangements
Enigmatic and she kindly takes
My hand…
She leads me through gardens of
Imagination replete with untitled topiary
And genius meter.

Where I encountered first
The Myth of Amherst,
I'm not exactly sure.
Her words--canteens of obscure mysts
To slake an interested thirst.
Death patiently files his nails
And smokes a casual cigarette
Grinning and eyeless
He says so calmly
"Catch you later
Brave little dreamer"

Despite such brittle certainty
Men and women build
Despite such small mortality
Every space is filled
In the midst of death's destruction
Men and women build again

Fear, like a cringing bowel
Exudes an acrid stench
And whimpers and whines
Simpers and cries
"Don't you dare
Don't you ever dare"

Despite this clinging dread
Some will need to dare
Despite the bursting head
Dreams insist on birth
In the midst of our stupidities
Something wondrous strives

                                    By Phil Roberts
The waterfalls fall,
Cascading down rough rocky--
Love's pool is silent.
Today is
Not just
Another day
Wake up
Get going
Live today
As if you've
Never lived
Ever before!  
Just because
You can!  

©  2017 Jim Davis
Inspired by a friend of mine, James A. McBride, who had a heart transplant!
His words below;

"Not everybody gets a do-over.  Life has a certain inevitability to it that is unavoidable.  It ends.  There will always be a mark on our headstones that says Lived 1952-2014.  But, it’s the decisions we make that can make that time between the dashes, that time that we are alive more significant.  Hell, a decision you make may even change the date that is after someone else’s dash.  It did for me.  That was the date my headstone was destined to bear until a young man, a total stranger, made his decision to be an ***** donor.  Every day I think about him and his family, about the hurt that they felt, and still feel today.  They mourn the anniversary of their young son, their brother and their kin on the same day my family and I celebrate my do-over.  
     My whole life I have been trained, as a Marine, as a Police Officer, to put my life in front of others.  I am truly humbled to recognize that sacrifice someone made when they put their life in front of mine.  I will not find the cure for cancer; I will not bring peace to the world.  I will, instead, get to continue to be me.  Celebrating every beat of his heart by trying to be the best me, to make people laugh, to remind a stranger that they are beautiful and to share his gift the best way I can.
     My young niece asked my sister shortly after the transplant, “Will Uncle Jim still love us since he has a new heart?”  I told her that when they took my heart out, they poured all the love I had for my family into the new one, and they left all the love he had for his inside.  My heart was filled with love for people I had never met.  It made her smile, and it still makes me smile as well."
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
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