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 Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Maggie Emmett
Proud Abyssinian lies still on my lap
Stroking his soft grey fur time starts to slow
To the beat of a Bach adagio                                            
Tamed and relaxed we both drift to a nap.

Beloved, well fed pet, nurtured in his home
Yet wild creature, whose needs must satisfy
To watch prey, to leap, pounce and terrify
Free in garden realm to wander and roam

How can I kindly look upon this beast
that snapped and tore life from a tiny bird ?
The mother shrieking horror at her loss
Father trying to scare Cat from his feast
Their doleful lament the saddest I’ve heard
Careless cat gives the corpse another toss.
Silence is Golden
Yet
There are Times
it's just Downright Lonesome
~ ~ ~
~* * * * *~


Copyright © January 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
Alone..Not Alone...
I was sitting outside the house at dawn
Having a quiet smoke,
I’m never allowed to smoke inside
And I’m just a quiet bloke,
I watched the first few friendly rays
Of the sun, rise over the town,
But then it grew dark, I watched amazed
As the sun went slowly down.

So dark, as black as a midden
And I truly felt alarmed,
Our cockerel ran in a circle, then
Fell down, was somehow charmed.
Surely the earth had not reversed,
But my senses said it had,
And when my chair went floating,
Then I knew that the news was bad.

Everything that was not tied down
Had slowly begun to rise,
Even my car and the outside bar
Hovered before my eyes,
I suddenly felt as light as air
And I had to grab a pole,
While the neighbour’s mobile home took off
And left behind a hole.

I made my way to the bedroom then,
It was doing in my head,
And there was the wife, still sound asleep
Floating above the bed,
The quilt and blankets were floating too
And I tried to hold them down,
‘I didn’t think that you cared,’ she said
As she woke, with a puzzled frown.

The problem lasted for seven hours
While we floated round inside,
I made my way to the ceiling light
And repaired the one that died.
The milk flew off from the cereal
And the toast popped up to the roof,
‘You see, the earth has reversed,’ I said,
‘If you need it, there’s the proof!’

The news was coming in fits and starts
From the station in the town,
While men were bracing beneath the desk
Just to hold the anchor down,
‘A giant comet has hit the earth
And has spun it in reverse,
They say that it’s only temporary,
Still, it could be worse.’

At midday, there was a glimmer of light
As the sun began to rise,
The furniture settled down again
And we saw familiar skies,
But the seven hours that we lost will be
Quarantined from time,
Unless we want to be rising as
The Noonday bells will chime.

And one thing that was a certainty
We’ll never trust again,
We said, ‘As sure as the sun comes up…’
But that was way back when.
And now I notice our cockerel
Can’t seem to sing a note,
Since ever its doodle-doodle-****
Came backwards from its throat.

David Lewis Paget
 Jan 2015 Paula Lee
PrttyBrd
This poem has been submitted for possible publication.  It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination.  Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.

Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
101114
 Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Sjr1000
They used to call
him
the young genius
now they call
him
the old recluse,
holed up in his
shack on the Mad River,
A garden of grow
in the back corner,
Always a **** for me and you.

He sits out on
his little patio
those bottle fed
cats
all running around
chasing ghosts
this way and that.

Pink camillas
white roses
silken dried out hydrangeas,
Spirits in the faces of the flowers.
Red berries
the bird's bar
a bar fight breaks out every evening.

We visit him there
on Friday afternoons
sun setting
sun high in the blue sky.

He finger ****** his
way through life,
Where ever he stopped,
People's lives changed,
He, searching for the words
to heal others pain
until compassion fatigue
set in,
Now he can only relate
to others
in small quantities of moments
too much pain felt
from
without within.

He is like his river,
a madness,
always different/always the same.
The sanest person we ever
knew.
Just watch your eyes, though,
with a look
he'll see right through you,
All your secrets will be revealed.

The young genius
the old recluse
if you need some healin'
go ahead and see'em,
He'll give you just a
hint,
Even if he's not feeling,
He'll take you down to
the Mad River's shore
give you a glimpse of you
and
bring you back home again
for more.

Shaman's on their way
have nothing much better to do
and nothing else to prove.
 Jan 2015 Paula Lee
hani shibli
Hey sad souls,
what are we to do?
When we're all so down and blue!
In our beautiful minds,
(Because,that's what they are, you HP people)
join your hands, together as one,
with similar kinds,
of people.
Men and women,
need each other,
sister and brother.

Feed each others spirits,
to take you beyond all limits.
This isn't a poem,
with the American dream,
this is for hearts and minds,
that need inspiration,
at times of desperation.
We all need to feel good,
gratification of our existence,
with a constant persistence.
Encouraging one another,
telling life that ,'That I love her'
She holds me captive,
her spirit bounds me,
In her arms, I'm held in awe.
surrendering  unconditionally,
Like a puppy holding up its paw.

For life,
throws tribulations,
catastrophic,
philosophic,
cataclysmic,
rhythmic,
euphoric.
And with each moment,
we should pray for another,
this gift of life,
to make us content,
a limited time we are lent,
cannot regain what has been spent.

Look up into this abundant sky
and smile that you are here.
When many cannot,
and many have not.
A poem to revive some heavy souls, that need some love and support.
I've been there and sometimes I get taken there, and hope others can find a little joy and energy from this simple write.
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