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Hidden face  Jan 2013
Trudy
Hidden face Jan 2013
Trudy.Lends her heart. Kind. You shouldn't mind. To a friend who's beyond distraught. She tries. Guides. Often lies. To protect herself from the world. Lord. The mask, she wears, it's a disguise. Inside, she cowers in fear. Oh dear. Layers. Trudy. Outside. All you'll see is Happiness. A joyful judy. Bright light. Inside. She's Fearless. Fighting. Completed and undefeated. Misleading. Deceiving. She cries, although she tries, she finds it hard to get by. Trudy. Trust. Happiness. She'll find it. Blinding. Guiding. A bright light. Find her. Don't mind me. You'll see. She needs. You. Under. What she hides. At first glance, she'll lie. A trance. You'll have to pry. Try. You'll see, she's not like you and me. Trudy.
CK Baker Mar 2017
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs

creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
crack their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)

lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
Mike Hauser May 2013
Trudy the Trout
Having been spawned one sunny day
Sparkles rainbow colors
As she frolics in the lake

Spends time in school with friends
Learning to survive
What parts are safe to nibble
When the man throws out his fishing line

When Trudy's not in school
How that sweet fishy loves to play
Swimming among the hidden treasures
At the bottom of the lake

One day she swam up to the top
Curious to have a look
Grabbed by a hawk with her last thought of
This here can't be good
Being a man of morals and honor
I feel it is my duty
To leave out the part where the hawk and her chicklets
Chow down on Trudy's *****
Thomas  Dec 2015
Screw Job
Thomas Dec 2015
Part One

One day while in high school (am now out of college) I, Mattias,
went over to my best friend Joey's house. When I got there, as
usual, he was working; he's a nut job, or better known as a handy
man during the summer, but keeps up the big old house where Joey's
family, (Mom, Dad, five daughters and one son, Joey, the youngest) eat, sleep, and amortize the dwelling mercilessly where it's in
constant need of maintenance. e.g.: 5 girls, all girly girls and
their mother = 6 females, copious use of the room where one
rests (rest room), an enormous amount of toilet paper with all
that other female stuff that is jettisoned down the commode.
This impaction desperately attempts to navigate an old, cast iron,
privately owned (not city) sewer line and sewage system.

So one can see,
and smell, huge problems, almost daily. Btw: they have five
bathrooms. One can only connect the dots to each one of
these strategic stink-bomb sites and see a pungent, pontifical,  stanky  mess on their hands. Half the time a
bathroom is cordoned off with yellow tape, like, where's
the detective? A crime has been committed in this bathroom
by a bunch of
females.
Strangely enough, the olfaction in this old castle didn't seem to
bother these girls. As long as it was their crap, all mixed together,
they all are of the same bloodline, who cares? It was almost as
if they liked the smell, since it was theirs. It was creepy, but
these girls were so good looking it didn't matter to me. Joey
would laugh as he could see how I was enamored with them all.
Yeah, I didn't mind hanging at Joey's house. His sisters:
their beauty; was through
the roof. They were cool
inside too!

So Joey is pretty indispensable in their household. He has tons
of other jobs, paid ones, to perform, but maintaining the five
bathrooms for these girls and the two men of the household was
a full time non-profit summer job, except for expenses; how quaint?

Part Two

This one particular day I stop over,
                                                       like I do almost daily; cut
through the open garage to their entry.
                                                       Joey knew I was coming
so both glass and fire door were unlocked.
                                                       ­ I walk in, shut the latch
to the glass door and saunter straight
                                                        ­into the Kitchen and
see Joey fishing through his junk drawer
                                                        se­arching for a bolt. He
said he was working on the plumbing in
                                                        one of the bathrooms.

The next thing I know, one of the neighbors in the culdesac of
which they live, Mrs. Turigliato, knocks on the door and tries to
open it but the latch is locked. The old fire door was open, so I
could see her. I waved and walked over to open the glass door.
Says Mrs. T, “Oh hi Mattias.” I reply “Hello Mam.”

She locomotes by me with coffee
in one hand, cream and sugar dripping
on her robe and coffee droplets free-falling
onto the VA tile floor with little splatters.

A tiny planet is being hit
by mini nuclear bombs, yikes!

She approaches Joey; he's scrambling and rummaging
through their seriously versatile junk drawer for the
right size bolt to perform surgery in one of the rooms
with a bath (bathroom). She cackles,
“Hi Joey, whatcha looking for?”

Part Three

Stop here a sec!**

If Joey would have said “I'm looking for a bolt” this story
would be over. In fact, there would be no story except a big house
with a sick septic tank on private property not run by the city.
Instead, he says “I'm looking for a *****?” While we both
(Joey & I ) might have quietly chuckled, Mrs. T's response
was a bit more than I could handle at this delicate age. Says Mrs.
Turigliato, “Go see Trudy, she will give you a *****.” Trudy was
our age, Mrs. T's daughter, and she was hot, but this was too much,
my abs were killing me. It doesn't end there:

Our mouths are tongued tied shut; taut. Unbelievably, Mrs. T
presses on;

“I'm serious Joey. Go, right now, and get a ***** from Trudy.”

At this point we were holding it in, suffocating, choking, yearning
for oxygen. Eggs and bacon started to make their way up my throat. I couldn't take this. We both quietly gather some air.
Not a ******* word from Joey or I,
Mrs. T is on an oblivious roll:

“Don't you want to get a ***** from Trudy, Joey?”

I can only imagine poor Joey's mind, thinking “Yes Mrs. T, but not the type ***** you're thinking about.”

We stay quiet, not a word..... then the miracle. Joey says “I found the right bolt.”
Hearing the word bolt and not ***** evoked an inquisitive, clueless, look from Mrs. T, her painted and pointed brows scrunching up and taking on new formations, but out came no words. She turned around and waved good bye, never saying why she came over or what she needed. Joey's Mom wasn't home but Mrs. T didn't even ask or say what she wanted. Strange ****.

Conclusion

Being a few years later, Joey and I still laugh our **** off when one of us tells this story. Even at parties, dudes and girls go nuts. Maybe some day it will be one of those “you would have had to be there” stories to maintain its staying power, but so far both Joey and I have gotten dates from girls at parties after we tell this story. I guess they like something about it. That's cool with me. Mattias is my name, and my best friend is Joey.
________
Fictional narrative prose based on a true story.  I know it's a bit long but I hope you hang in there to read it all and enjoy it as well.  Thomas
Olga Valerevna Oct 2016
we're standing on the pavements taking pictures of our lives
pretending we are frozen every second passed in time
but what if we instead project the daily as it is
the broken up confusion and the sense we make of it
put everything in places they were always meant to be
and justify the cause for such decisions made by thee
let not the fear consuming all make way inside of you
rebuke it in the name of faith you carry tried and true
don't let the voice of others tell you what is right and wrong
you have a mind unshakable when rooted deep and strong
only some certain people.
Joy Ceye  Jun 2018
Trudy
Joy Ceye Jun 2018
Trudy sits sipping cocktails
Watching the passers by.
The girl with the Botox, false eyebrows to match,
The ****** old codger, with his hand on her ******.
They swan right on past
Ignoring the view.
No-one knows why
She's invisible to you.
But she doesn't care, she points one finger in the air,
She'd rather look at the sky.
Payton Hayes  Feb 2021
Crystals
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Rock n’ roll music, Folger’s, and paint-smeared hands.
Dresser drawers filled to the brim with undeveloped camera film.
Blue bonnets and overgrown grass, pecans and crunching fall leaves.
Dirt roads and river-rocks, typewriters, polaroid cameras, and feather-quill pens.
Those hand-me-down blue eyes and brown ones that are “sometimes hazel.”
Crystal clusters and Lord of the Rings.
Countless mosquito bites and play-pretend games in the clubhouse.
Early-birds and night-owls.
Trudy; and Randy Hayes.
“Don’t touch everything you see,” and “If you say you’re bored, I’ll find work for you to do.”
Sweet tea and okra and southern dishes blackened and drenched in cheese or gravy.
Grandma always burned everything to make sure it was fully cooked, and to her, it was never burned, just “well-done.”
Cigarettes and carpentry and cookbooks. Wild blackberries and birthday parties at the lake.
Sleeping in all day and staying up all night and procrastination.  
Shepherd's Pie, potatoes, and four-leaf clovers.
“Nil Desperandum. Never Despairing.”  
I’m from a whole house that eats eggs for breakfast, and I’m allergic to eggs.
And trees as tall as buildings and buildings as tall as trees.
“You should never take the lord’s name in vain,” and “Jesus loves you, so you should love others.”
Day-dreams and stargazing and thunderstorms.
“All or nothing,” and “There is no try, only do.”
Old family pictures in dust-glittered frames.
We are crystals. We have facets, each one makes us who we are.
With only one window of our lives to express, we’d merely be glass.
I am a part of each of these things just as much as they are each a part of me.
This poem was written in 2017.
If u believe
Youll see me
Knocking...
On your heart
With poetry's kiss
Just whispering
  "Merry Xmas"
To my loved one
James Floss  May 2019
ROOTS
James Floss May 2019
We loved you
Pumpkin pie

And you
Bahzie boy

My bridge to the
Equine kingdom

Mitten, you made
My wife like cats

Begins a tragedy of three
A tale of other kitties

Stanley wandered too far
A tragedy of traffic

Babad not as far…
Both waited for us

No one wants to die alone
But still, we’ve been blessed

Goldie, I’m glad
You loved me

Little dog with
A heart too big

Thank you, Sue
For trusting us with Trudy

What a lucky man I am
To garner such love and trust

And of course, biggie guy,
He who once was named Hunter:

Gunther.
(Inset sadness here)

Chessy taught responsibility
With insulin shots at 6 & 6

Tristan y Isolde
(Stanley and Zolda)

Operatic lives lived
As comedy/tragedy

And, et-hem; yes
Even you, Ms. Berry

Past denizens
Of Chateau Flobo

Let’s not not leave out
The current cohorts:

Free spirit, wild child
Lucky Ducky

Biggie boy found you
You adopted us

Ms. Black-in-the-box
Moved herself in

And Fred—well,
Fred is just being Fred

They all found us
Not the other way around

From a big family,
We’ve loved/love a big family

— The End —