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raw April morn,
daffodils be looking
prematurely silly,

now a May morn,
daffodils no more,
irises blooming

though May itself
a hybrid of twixt
and cousin tween,
coldish morns,
summer afternoons,
evening gusts
winter reminders

yesterday, walked
50 blocks in 80+
Farenhot, sweaty much
and hypocrisy
now reigning,
oh my summer man
you your self,
selfishly forgot,
forgot the other side
of the coin, thinking
hot hot hot Not,
cranky old codger man,
yup, yup, yup.
Into sky
Synthetic sky
Into cloudless recesses of
Artificial sun

Help me lift it up

Tubercular layers
And acetylene light
Below I sleep in a spiderweb
Where scavenger's reign

By design
Delicate
Intricate
Singularity
Worn for a vow
Worn as a shroud
Our night is falling

I come and stand
At every door
Next to manufactured girls

Hoping to lift you up

The ghosts they draw
On my back
Want no light to shine

And so I must
Leave it behind
For the man coming after me
Gathering into the hatchway
I push my breath from rest
in the clouds and adventures
into the city with my sister
who would rather walk and breathe
and push her body out and away
from convention and comfort
while I try to make up excuses
to use the car.

She stops to notice the police
trying to corral unruly homeless
while I seek refuge on a grassy *****
with a few of my elders enjoying the sun.

I know the city and the commerce
that has gashed through soil
of this once quiet prairie
to construct one steel obelisk
after another
making art and poetry sad afterthoughts.

Now it is time
for me to move my creaky bones
into a day yet to aborn
beyond my bed,
to wash myself in the infinite seed of creation
splashed upon me
with each dawn.
Under the mango tree where the shade is dark and deep
she waits with years on her skin.

The face though weary with the burden of time
has not yielded to the fate
of having once loved and lost.

She believes the winds from the barren field
will one day carry the rustle of footsteps
raising a song from within earth
that the moment is arrived
for the dead river to rise in tides
and flood her cheeks with the sapplings of
all the unplanted kisses.

When the nights come
the fireflies would sing
love is such a beautiful thing
basking in the glow of her heart.
~
June 2024
HP Poet: BLT (William Turnbull)
Age: 58
Country: USA


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Bill. Please tell us about your background?

BLT: "I'm the prototypical jack of many trades, master of none. I've been in retail, the paint business, wine/beer sales, a Director of Security, running entire firms and their staff and am currently a Pest Control Technician."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

BLT: "I've been writing for about 35 years regularly, but for about 8 on a daily basis. My first poem was about the Fates- for a 10th grade English assignment. We spent 9 weeks on Greek Mythology, then 9 more on Roman. I did not know I could write. Having had a tumultuous and trauma filled childhood, this knowledge was quite beneficial to my personal well being and mental health. I have been a member for about 4 years, I believe."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

BLT: "I am inspired by most anything. A solitary word or phrase heard in conversation. A sound. A whisper. Once moved, I simply must write. I call it word bees. They sting me mercilessly until I jot them down. Unlike most poets, if the piece becomes difficult- if the words do not flow, I most often abandon the project. I feel it is not genuine. I never want my works to sound forced or 'driven' by the rhyme. Also, unlike most of the well-learned and incredibly talented poets/writers here, I am NOT well read. Poe and Shakespeare, yes. But very limited consumption of the masters."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

BLT: "Poetry, to me is an avenue for release. For creativity. For expression. I most often write to myself. I am so very grateful for Hello Poetry, as I am able to share my drivel. I have never felt like I belong in such grand company but have always been thankful for the inclusion."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

BLT: "My favorite poets here include Jamadhi Verse, Pradip, Carlo, Thomas Case, Old Poet(Mike), Guy, Lori and Patty. So many different styles of poetry. So many with so much to say."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

BLT: "I have a YouTube channel dedicated to Miami Dolphin parody songs, though I have many original pieces there, too. I have always loved to sing and write lyrics. My dream is to have one of my songs purchased by a real artist. I do NOT write anywhere else. I have looked at other sites, and to be quite honest, find them lacking."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Bill! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”

BLT: "Thank you for all you do cultivating the community and supporting so many poets. You are the flower ***... we are the seeds."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know BLT a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #17 in July!
~
Here's the link to BLT's YouTube channel:
https://youtube.com/@billsbangers3251?si=wlv9lsREVDxUgc0y

Below are some of BLT's favorite poems and links to each one:

The Entire 'Another ******' Series:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4133121/the-entire-another-******-series/

Translucently Inherent:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4171006/translucently-inherent/

Melancholy: Sadness Prevails:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4127883/melancholy-sadness-prevails/

Secret in The Swamp:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4134776/secret-in-the-swamp/

Neon Signs:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4240791/neon-signs/

Black Water:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4240783/black-water/
We played a game amongst twisted trees
Then studied the decaying river bank
And as we crouched down onto our knees
Our paper boats sailed away and sank

We rolled around the blades of grass
So fresh and pea soup green
That shone in the sun like shards of glass
It was the happiest we’d ever been

My father spotted a Heron in flight
We watched in awe as it flapped its wings
Flying gracefully away till out of sight
Indescribable is the joy it brings

Across the river some cows had broke free
As they were clambering across the stones
They were in a place where they shouldn’t be
All mooing orchestrally with brassy tones

The arching bridge rose high across the water
Like a rainbow across a darkened sky
A man made feat using bricks and mortar
The safe corridor that kept us all dry

Then it was time to head back home
Hungry but full of beans
Children along the river love to roam
Anyway, any how and by any means
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