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Here’s the thing
the missing
never leaves
we just learn
that love
is just as real
from afar.
the great snow
eats noises
and makes stillness.
Kamakura Buddha in snow
                 Silencio
                     yo
You asked me if I had
     Written
a poem today?

No I said.  You could not
have known that you are

     my poem.

My metaphors have changed.
You took my sad attempt’
'
to make of my life

     a story someone might
read, even for a moment.
Tonight I can tell you

     You are the meter
which steers the thing
I call love.

An unusual poem, filled
with all the things you are.

So I will know you when
     finally
we are met
and One.  

Caroline Shank
December 17. 2024

For Kinik
Thou art a gnashgab mewling wretch,
Thy face doth like a codfish stretch!
Thou art a boil-brained muck-sprout,
A maggot-pie with addled snout!

Thou fustilugs, lily-livered mumblecrust,
Thy wit hath gathered quite some dust.
Thou art a motley-minded lout,
A hedge-born knave without clout!

Thou art warped and wayward sock-knocker,
A cumberworld, a scobberlotcher.
A flibbertigibbet, saddle-goose fool,
Who'd lose a battle with a stool!

Thou art a shrivel-headed apple-john,
A dalcop, pribbling bobolyne!
Away, thou canker-blossomed pest,
With thou weather-worn poorly-mannered jest!

©️Lizzie Bevis
This poem was inspired by my daughter who was giggling at Medieval insults, I think that it is safe to say that old English insults were quite colourful!

A modern English translation for those left scratching their heads!

Medieval Mud Slinging

You are a grumbling, moaning rascal,
Your face stretches like a codfish!
You are a stupid, foul mouthed,
Maggot pie with a muddled snout!

You are a clumsy, cowardly fool,
Your wit has gathered quite some dust.
You are a muddle-headed ruffian,
A low born scoundrel without influence!

You are warped and greatly perverse,
A burden, an idle person.
A chatterbox, a simple fool,
Who'd lose a battle with a stool!

You are a shrivelled apple head,
A foolish, prattling idiot!
Away, you canker infested pest,
With your tiresome, ill-mannered wind up!

I hope that you enjoy reading this poem!
 19h Mike Adam
Emma
Pure white whispers fall,
soft embrace on black branches—
Winter's breath lingers.

Enormous oak stands,
silent witness to the peaks,
shadows blend with light.

Between two giants,
snow and silence weave their song,
timeless, cold, serene.
Unfortunately we don't get any on my island, but this is what I imagine.
Happy weekend fellow poets.
 19h Mike Adam
Cné
~
It lays silkenly sweet against
sun kissed skin
tiny straps, perhaps strapless
delicate linen softly draped
tender tiny tucks and nips
delicious bows tied at nape

It cascades around curvy hips
‘round a waterfall that slightly drips
sprightly colors all wink as
they whisper and swish
full of giddy and laughter, they flirt
away gloom, rain and mist

Teasing touches wraps around thighs
dancing daisies pause as I walk by
serenely skirt and brush past
with a soft wispy cushion sway
plump full, recline, pause to chat
on a sultry summer’s day

~
I spend my morning,
Sipping coffee (no surprise there),
gnawing breakfast (in bed), 
while reading poetry.
It is still.
As I scroll seeds 
Of insight from others' experiences,
Vulnerabilities and creativity.
I could be in Paris or Milan, 
Or in the Kimberleys;
I am transported with each line.
Inspiration poured into mine
soul. I feel I've lived a thousand lives
With every verse believed.
Relieved though, I'm safe at home, 
And the life I'm walking is my own.
How many of my poems feature coffee?! I must write a poetry book to go on my coffee table!
I spent so many years just counting minutes in my head
and chasing after Time in ways that almost left me dead
I pushed the pedal forward harder than I knew I should
the faster I could get through this, the better, for my good

I followed ticks and tocks of clocks wherever I would go
and learned to read their exit signs so nobody would know
that in my head, an hour more meant many hours less
with all the things I know I need to face and not forget


“И Сам отошел от них на вержение камня, и, преклонив колени, молился, говоря: Отче! о, если бы Ты благоволил пронести чашу сию мимо Меня! впрочем не Моя воля, но Твоя да будет.”
‭‭От Луки‬ ‭22‬:‭41‬-‭42‬
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