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 Nov 2010 Judy Ponceby
Emma Liang
looking around me, 19 second stop at a red light and already the large, bearded man with the scar on his cheekbone is grumbling, scratching at his bushy mustache and drooping Yankees hat, so faded it could almost be a B for the red sox

there's a young woman, ***** blonde hair cascading down her back, almost gracefully; seemingly too small for the rumbling white pickup truck she sat in, scratched and almost a tint of blue from this angle; one hand at the wheel, one tickling the feet of a giggling newborn at her side, for a second i wondered who the father was-

and over there, a skinny Hispanic boy by the side of the road, walking with threadbare sandals flapping against the hard cement, there's a hopeless look in his eyes-

an old man with a 5-inch long grey beard, almost touching the steering wheel; he's either Asian or he's squinting into the sun, can't really tell from here- wrinkles lining his worn face

a strong-***** Japanese woman, hair in a tight bun driving a Ferrari

a red-haired bespectacled boy, pale as chalk, his face covered with freckles (or was it acne?); couldn't have been older than 17; he looked like a Robert or a Charles, definitely not a Samuel

in front of me, a red Chevy truck with a license plate LUVANN, i wonder if Ann is still with him- i crane my head upwards trying to see the man, all i can glimpse is a blue-and-white bandana-

i wonder who all these people are,
what are their hopes and dreams, do they like ******* jacks? banana splits?
where are they going?
who will miss them when they're gone, or will anyone-

then the light turns green and in a puff of smoke,
like a blur-

they're gone.
It's strange, isn't it? Thinking about all the people you will never know..
befriended by the builders
a building site next door
they gave her little jobs to do
although she's only four

when friday came,they even gave
her wages for the week
foreman smiled at sophie's joy
and tweaked her rosie cheek

off she went, to spend her pay
there was no way of stopping
a working girl with hard earned cash
so mummy took her shopping

hello mr  sweetshop man
i've got cash to spend
been grafting with my muckers
an real job,....not pretend

are you working monday?
he passed her pick and mix
aye! if those  wankers from jewson
bring the ******* bricks
.
~To touch
one more piece of heaven,
to taste your golden gate bridge open--

as wild as a two tongue fury
in a peppermint
breeze.

Mongrels, at best-
having their way
beneath a mid-summer sky.

Groping to unfold each petal
before their season.
Where "loves-me-not"
is never an option.

Touch me hard so I can feel it.~
They shuffle their feet
They trip and they moan
They have soulless eyes
They bite and they groan.

Their all wearing suits
Their hair's falling out
Their teeth are decayed
Their guts strewn about.

Well thats what I saw
When I went to the bank
But I guess that I have
Mondays to thank.
The storms are pounding
Destruction is rampant
No end seems in sight.
The day is endless
The night never ending
Will it ever, ever be right?

Lightning crashes
Winds are swirling
Torrents of water fall down.
The earth is shaking
The shelter is breaking
Thunderous sound resound.


Above the storm
the Calm prevails
Overlooking the turmoil below.
Awaiting the return
of order again
That Peace and Calm bestow.


Then it is over...

No more pounding
Silence, beautiful silence
Comes whispering in the ears.
The Earth becomes firm
The Sun is still shining
It dries up all the tears.

Through the debris
New hopes arise
Covering the scars below.
Growing stronger, stronger
As strength rebounds
Renewed by the seeds we sow.

Repairing the damage
Replacing the lost
Moving forward with or without.
Finding Hope in the future
as Faith reaches upward
Redeeming Love without a doubt.

--------------------------------
When the storms of life
Cause turmoil and strife,
The Son dries all my tears.
When all seemed lost
I counted the cost
Turned over all my fears.

I am surviving.
I am stronger still.
(c) 11-19-2010
Completed 11-22-2010 for Jen



https://drive.google.com/file/d/1zF01Lz-oQ0wZn7pS-rdzByVonQvZpmBK/view?usp=drive_web
There are things we keep in boxes like hearts and wounds and words

There are things we keep in boxes like feelings and failures and dreams

There are things we keep in boxes like what he should be and who she is

And I have told things to these boxes like I love you and I miss you and goodbye

See I hold things in these boxes filled with shame and trust and joy

And I have left things in these boxes like all those things about that boy

And even though they lay  in boxes most of them I can't forget

But there are worlds of me in these boxes soaked in tears and some regret

But I have packed these things in boxes and I have stacked these things in boxes

Because if I can pack these things in boxes I can keep them safe and secret

Because if I can stack these things in boxes they will keep me safe and secret

Yes, there are things like me in boxes
 Nov 2010 Judy Ponceby
SJ Stine
2 am phone calls.
you think i would be used to them by now.
i never thought i would get one from you.
i awoke at 1 am,
restless,
telling myself i should have went with you,
making myself guilty,
wondering how you were doing.
then i get it,
the famed text.
"r u still up?! will you come get me please?"
of course i will.
anything to see you.

we stayed up talking till 5 am
talking fears,
plans,
and feelings fogging up the windshield glass.
we shared tears,
held hands,
and even laughed.

its moments like these that make me hope
that one day i will get to call you mine.
you let your guard down
and let me see you
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