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𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘“π‘Žπ‘π‘’ π‘œπ‘“ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠,
π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘œπ‘€
𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘“π‘œπ‘œπ‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘™π‘™π‘ ...
π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑠 π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘œπ‘€...
π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘€π‘  π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘œπ‘€...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘›π‘π‘’ 𝑖𝑛 π‘šπ‘¦ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘›π‘‘π‘ ;
𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘šπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘œπ‘€,
𝐼𝑛 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘€π‘ ,
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘’π‘  π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘›π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘”...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘€β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘  π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘›π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘”...
π΅π‘’π‘‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘“π‘™π‘–π‘’π‘  π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘›π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘”...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘’ π‘œπ‘“ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘€ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘
π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘–π‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€,
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 π‘œπ‘“ π‘€π‘–π‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘›π‘β„Žπ‘’π‘  π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ β„Žπ‘–π‘π‘–π‘ π‘π‘’π‘  π‘“π‘™π‘œπ‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ ...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘–π‘›π‘˜ 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝑠
π‘œπ‘“ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ β„Žπ‘–π‘π‘–π‘ π‘π‘’π‘  π‘“π‘™π‘œπ‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ ,
π΅π‘™π‘œπ‘œπ‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘” 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘€π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘œπ‘“ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘£π‘Žπ‘ π‘’;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘’π‘‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘“π‘™π‘¦ 𝑖𝑠 π‘Žπ‘™π‘ π‘œ π‘’π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘›π‘Žπ‘™...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘’π‘π‘‘β„Ž π‘œπ‘“ π‘€β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘ 𝑖𝑛 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠,
π‘…π‘œπ‘œπ‘‘π‘’π‘‘ 𝑖𝑛 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘;
πΊπ‘Ÿπ‘’π‘’π‘›...
πΊπ‘Ÿπ‘’π‘’π‘›...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’...
𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘ π‘œπ‘›π‘” π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠,
π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘™π‘Žπ‘’π‘”β„Žπ‘–π‘›π‘”;
π‘Œπ‘’π‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€...
π‘Œπ‘’π‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’...
𝐼𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘“π‘™π‘’π‘π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘› π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ 𝑠𝑒𝑛'𝑠 π‘ π‘œπ‘›π‘”π‘ ,
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘™π‘’π‘Žπ‘£π‘’π‘  π‘œπ‘“ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘€π‘ , π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘šπ‘œπ‘£π‘–π‘›π‘”;
πΊπ‘Ÿπ‘’π‘’π‘›...
π‘Œπ‘’π‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’...
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘π‘’,
𝑂𝑓 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘€,
𝑂𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘Žπ‘–π‘›π‘ ,
π‘‡β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’π‘™π‘¦ π‘‘π‘œπ‘”π‘’π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘Ÿ;
π‘Šβ„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’, π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’, π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’...
π‘Šβ„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘
π‘Šβ„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘
π‘Šβ„Žπ‘–π‘‘π‘’...
  Jul 2023 Richard Shepherd
Chloe
My eyes don’t soften
anymore
when I see yours
return my glance
Or when I find myself
staring at your outline
in the dark, cold night

The pit of my stomach,
hollowed out
to fit the misery
of being overjoyed
And when I find myself
thinking for too long
it becomes hard to avoid

Because your eyes never softened
for mine-
first, second, third,
fourth chance
You could never find yourself-
you’re just an outline
drowning me in your dark, cold night.
~
Dead ahead
The target is always
On a similar horizon
It's about surviving
Every blasted thought
More than eliminating all threats
When they strike
They form castellated holes
That network new fears
To long existing trauma
Careening off the deep seams of life
In intervals of jagged breath
I become part of the debris
A genuine tourist attraction
The size of a crater
Even after nothing else
Remains of my former self

~
How will change
Will ever come
Without purpose
How will purpose
Ever be realized
Without strategy
How will strategy
Will ever impact
Without endurance
I’ve watched the
Indignation and
Rhetoric concerning
The rampant injustice
Facing many in the world
Wane in the past
Hour
In the past
Day
In the past
Week
In the past
Month
In the past
Year
In the past
Decades
I’ve worked
In many places
Where the injustice
Is so horrifying
That there are no words
To qualify it
I’ve seen people
Bear up under
Horrific persecution
Even to death to affect
Change and hope
For freedom
Do our tv really
control the level
Of our conviction
Do the powers that
Be really have that
Kind of sway over
Our passion
By all means have
The purpose of true
freedom for all
But please I beg you
Have the strategy and
Do not diminish
The purpose by flailing
About with no directions
Having purpose and strategy
Understanding we’re against
A system that has controlled
Indoctrinated And victimized
For Well over a century
It won’t be easily overthrown
You must have endurance
Let your hearts swell with
Freedom and don’t stop
Until we realized that
We are free but we ain’t free at all.
"Transporting a Dream" by Old Poet MK, brought back to mind an episode when I was in my 20’s, and working in an insurance office in San Diego with a night job as a waitress at a Beatnik Coffee House.  I was in love with a wandering folk singer who had left to perform at a club in Oklahoma City and I missed him terribly.
He called late one Friday night and said why not come there and drive back to California with him.  At first I told myself all the reasons it would be impossible. Then my heart told me I had to find a way to do it.  I called my supervisor and told a fib about my mom being sick and I had to fly to Washington State for a few days.
I emptied my piggy bank and the tip jar from my coffeehouse night job, but I didn't have enough for the ticket. I did have a series E savings bond tucked away, but nowhere to cash it in on a Friday night. This was long before we had computers and cell phones, so I had only my land line to help me.  
I called Greyhound and got their schedule and all the stops they made along the way to Oklahoma City.
As it happened they had a 20 minute rest stop in Mesa, Arizona at 10:15 AM. which was about as far as my gathered money would buy a ticket for. Good enough!  I grabbed some clothes and my E-Bond and raced to the bus depot. I gave them all my money, much of it in coins, and bought a ticket for Mesa. Soon the bus was loaded and I settled in as we rolled on through the night.  Too excited to sleep, I wrote several poems along the way.  When we got to Mesa for the rest stop the next morning I leaped off the bus and flew into a nearby bank (Talk about miracles - it was just across the street from the depot ) I pleaded with them to cash my Savings Bond so I could continue on. The handsome teller listened to my story and then called the bank manager over to hear it as well. That was the day I learned that very pretty girls can do things ordinary folk might never manage.  Without knowing me or really checking out my ID, the bank manager and handsome teller actually cashed my savings bond for me.
Had they not done that I would have been stranded alone and penniless in a strange city.  Only the confidence of youth and beauty could lead someone into a situation like that.
I raced back to the bus as it was loading again and bought my way on to Oklahoma City. I wrote more verse as I looked out the bus window on the way. Some of it very good.
There was tragedy though. I filled one little notebook with  poems and was well into a second one when it came time to change busses.  I somehow left the first notebook on the bus as I got off and didn’t realize it until well away on the second one. I was heartbroken. All I could do was write a sad poem about lost poetry - which I did.
When I arrived in Oklahoma City I was met with love, music and wonderful moments.
The drive back to LA. was exciting and romantic as we stopped to admire the scenery and take photos of each other.
What an exciting escapade that was. The folksinger was a lovely period in my life, filled with other adventures and Whippet dogs, but alas, not permanent. The relationship didn’t endure past two years, but the love of Folk music and Whippets did.

Twenty five years later a similar adventure on a bigger scale befell me, but that’s a story for another time.
LJM
Hoping you won't do the math and figure out how utterly old I am.
  Jul 2023 Richard Shepherd
Maddy
Maybe it's the stars in the sky.
Maybe it's hard to see you cry.
Maybe it's the sound of his voice.
I would listen if I didn't have a choice.
Maybe it's her smile that lights up any room.
It's magical how it gets rid of any gloom.
Maybe it's the joy and happiness.
Without all of you, there would be no bliss.
Maybe because my dream came true.
The published writer and poet is before you.
Just like things change within the seasons.
Proud to write number one thousand on Hello Poetry today.
One thousand reasons
One thousand poems

C@rainbowchaser2023
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