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Larry Potter Jun 2022
You accompany the eastern wayward winds,
With your morning greetings, warm like the sun;
Waking our household and all its mundane delights
Like the intro to an upbeat Bee Gees song.
You blend comical antics into the rough routines
Like The Beatles' chorus filled with seasoned humor;
Chasing away the boring notes and sad refrains
Over lunch table and afternoon coffee hours.
You double-check the locks before the lights go out
Like a Sinatran bridge looking for guarantees
You rest in a fulfilled outro, but always prepared
To sing every unknown tomorrow's melodies.
Happy Father's Day to my musician father! Happy Father's Day to all loved and loving fathers out there. :)
Larry Potter May 2022
I could always go to a laundromat
Toss away the basket without a care
But your handwash is still the standard
And up to this day, it's beyond compare.

You can topple mountains of ***** clothing
Even before the sun gets to call it noon
Taking your skillful palms to a rhythm
More powerful than a wild monsoon.

With natural precision and technique
You'd feel each fabric and make them clean
A stream of colors that changes every week
You unfold them neatly for the humid winds.

From silly pants and hand-me-downs
You leveled wrinkles and washed the grimes
To buttoned shirts and graduation gowns
Your hands have stood the test of time.

Dried and folded, ironed and hanged
It's nothing short of a magical sight
A bundle of comfort, a pile of warmth
Just a peak of your motherly might.
Happy Mother's Day ma!
Larry Potter Apr 2022
Our paperweight memories hang on
Like the calendar tearing its own pages
The edges unmade yet the cut runs deep     
Scarred by empty dates you left to bleed.
The inks melt back into pure redundance
Losing all sense of value and meaning
The texts and tiles start to loathe existence
Shedding their hues and desire for being.
The days fall down like parched petals
Plucked and branded by the cruel sun
Their ashes swallowed by halfway moons  
Waxed and waned by a loveless tune.
The weeks smothered by tempered nights
Slept soundly through the better months
Hoping to come awake in a freefall light
After the final sheet forsakes the dawn.
Larry Potter Mar 2022
The hooves graced the stage
And we artlessly digress
Like a bed of scorpions
Beneath turned stones
Unhinged and entranced
By the dance of flesh and bones.
Stings tremble with anticipation
Cowardly poised to poison  
Perfecting pretense for defense
All scrambling for impunity
Among misbegotten virtues
And self-serving fidelities.
The vassals to a bloodborne crown
Trade nations for silken sheets
Hoping that the toast of upheaval
Could fill the hungry beast
But the glass refills another round
For a charade of witless relief.
Larry Potter Dec 2021
I pray for warmth;
One that soothes and lingers,
To burn despite the chill;
To kindle dampened hearts.
The ember of grace,
May it not die out,
From the biting cold and wet.
May the flame endure the spite,
Of untamed weathers;
That it blaze without ceasing,
Unyielding but kind.
Let it light a pyre of hope;
Amidst the windswept rubbles,
Of the tempest past.
May it resonate what signals lost,
And restore where wires are cut.
Let this beacon carry,
Words of homebound comfort;
And reach places where refuge,
Still has not been.
May scattered shards and rocks,
Find their rightful place;
For the mud and dust to bind,
The stones of a stronger hearth.
Let it mend lives,
Burdened from palm to sole.
May it help kindred faces,
Find lost and forgotten smiles;
Let them gather again brightly,
Like the stars of December skies.
To all the families and homes destroyed by typhoon Odette (Rai) - we're with you in thoughts and in prayers. Help will come, and a better tomorrow.
Larry Potter Dec 2021
For what are lies but ugly words
Cruelly dressed in fancy clothes
Which came to grace the masquerade
Until their very meaning erodes.
The truth in every swearer's tongue
Hummed loudly like an untamed gong
And ears bled out from aching songs
Unbridled by unmuted wrongs.
The host is left without respite
From ghosts that haunt the drunken night
The table unset, the music died
Without recompense, without requite.
Larry Potter Nov 2021
Stuck in the limbo
Of your pretty face
Ever fallen from grace
Living dead by the gallows.

I stood trial in the court
Of your moonlit eyes
Every breath testified
To such sweet sorrow.

Your smile stripped the truth
Like a warm and cruel sentence
Your laugh was the small crowd
That broke the deafening silence.

The jury of your loud whispers
Set my crimes on a chase
Waiting for this heart to flicker
From a loosely sealed embrace.

This wise fool barely breathes
Despite your present absence
To the comfortable misery
Of a lovestruck conscience.
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