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a collaborative piece created by Papaya and Stephan*

I know the story of an ugly old fellow
Who taunted and cursed and told many lies
But did you know that an ugly old fellow
Was merely the skin that held his disguise

"Spare me a quarter and I'll spare you the lecture"
Often he’d say to the young and the brave
Laughing they’d pass without barely a glance
Thrusting the man into temper and rage

When along stepped another into the commotion
Stopping to listen to all he did say
Shaking his head he reached in his pocket
Pulled out a quarter to proudly display

Then closed his hands into two equal fists
Held them up high as he said with a grin
"I’ll pay your offer so you will stop ranting
If only you can guess which hand it is in"

Stroking his beard the man gave a smile
"I do love a challenge, so let us begin
But once I have chosen and reveal your coin
You’ll stay to listen, and we both shall win"

The old man reached out, with hand on each fist
“Son, you cannot fool a man that’s my age”
Then pulled out from behind the younger man’s ear
The same coin that earlier the man had displayed

The look of surprise on his face was alarming
He glanced down at both of his two empty hands
Then thought to himself, now how did he do that,
I held it right there? but then said to the man

“A deal is a deal, so I guess I will listen
But I have a schedule, it’s my day to teach
Please hasten your words holding all of your wisdom
And here I shall stand till you finish your speech”

"I can say nothing you've not already learned
That each man has something special to give
To stop and to listen and open your eyes
This is how all men and women must live"

"Some will spare time, others spare a dime
Still others will play tricks as you see
You must be wise, separate truth from the lies
And always be the very best you can be"
.

A friend of mine just questioned
what inspires me to write
They know I'm writing poems
every morning, noon and night

I answered with a chuckle
saying, “I don’t have a clue
In fact right at this moment
I’m not sure what I will do

I looked outside my window
it’s the same as yesterday
Traffic lights and restaurants
and people on their way

I listened to some music
but I’ve heard that song before
And I don’t really like it
it’s a tough one to endure

I took a walk through nature
past the flowers and the trees
But allergies are killing me
all I could do was sneeze

I typed some words in sequence
to see if they would rhyme
And ended up deleting them
a total waste of time”


Then I saw their smile
I thought, now there’s a thing
I like when people smile
and the happiness they bring

There’s joy in that expression
like spring will soon arrive
It lifts another’s spirits
and makes them feel alive

Thoughts of sunny mornings
begin to float around
Maple leaves and meadowlarks
and dew drops on the ground

That very special person
who lives inside your heart
And just how much you love them
even when you are apart

I started feeling better
as my face now wore a grin
And when I looked up at the screen
I saw one once again

For now I knew the answer
and I told them oh so true
*“It seems today my inspiration
came from seeing you”
 Aug 2016 Robin Goodfellow
Esther
There was a poem I wrote before this one
I wrote it somewhere between midnight and morning,
you know, the place where the tides are too heavy
they're cement,
too blue
they're black,
too sharp
they're knives
and you can't help
but drown.
The place where I sank into a well of words and emerged
as black as every single one of my demons.
You know, the place where the feelings come out
and where there is no delete button,
no escape plan,
no Plan A to begin with and no Plan B to end it.
I poured everything onto that poem,
every **** feeling
and every horrible thought that had the audacity to come true.
And when I realized what I had done,
I took that poem
and I burned it—
every drip of ink
and every drop of emotion.
and made this one out of its ashes
Today i wake up, head pounding stomach churning, my eyes adjust to the light in the room. I put my hands to my face, I notice my wrists as I do.

I feel angry at myself I feel fine I don't need any help. Why would I need it when there's others that are worse than I, come on it's been a while I barely even cry.

I feel embarrassed, I hide the pain sketched onto my wrist, I try to forget that they exist.
I tell no one of what I have done, I don't need help the battle has been won.
 Aug 2016 Robin Goodfellow
r
There was a girl
I used to swap paperbacks
and spit with, once
I fixed her wiper blades,
I remember the soft dead wings
on the windshield,  pretty
as you please

She was alone in her shoes
listening to something
that kept getting darker
and glowing like morning
on the oil spilled under her truck,
she was drifting through
the rosewater of her soft red hair

She only wanted to be rolling
off a swollen river, sliding
out of a clean slip, turning
over in a deep sleep, trailing
a shimmering thread, hiding
under a pile of wet leaves

Then there she was sailing
in her river of blood,  going
white and smelling like smoke
from a struck match behind
closed blinds on a ceramic floor,
a white blouse red as a sharp knife
collecting the light of mourning.
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