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Bardo Nov 2023
The Irish Summer (i.e. when you  only get the sunshine) is a very elusive thing
But having lived in Ireland all my life I figured it out many years ago
Although there may be some freakish weather events like the occasional heatwave
The Irish Summer lasts from the end of the English soccer season to the start of the Wimbledon tennis tournament (when the covers go on)
Those few short weeks
Then it reverts to being a mixed bag of sunshine and showers
So whenever Wimbledon starts up I always get out my thin flimsy shower proof coat
It's lovely and light so you won't be sweating
And I also have my little umbrella handy too.

Now I'm always telling people my theory of the Irish Summer
Whether they believe it or not
There's a young guy I work with and I told him my theory
Then awhile later we had to attend this big work event/meeting
It was held in Croke Park (the Gaelic football stadium) in Dublin
We were up in the Executive boxes overlooking the pitch, was really cool
We had walked there as it wasn't too far from our office
I had my showerproof on and had my little umbrella
My young workmate was just wearing a black leather jacket and had no umbrella
I thought to myself "Man, you're living dangerously"
Sure enough when we're walking back to the office
The heavens open and it ****** down on us
I'm standing there under my umbrella smiling in my showerproof
While my young friend is standing there like a drowned rat, the saddest sight
And I say to him "What did I say, didn't I tell you about the Irish Summer ?"
Then I say "Did you ever read the story of Noah's Ark ?"
I felt sorry for him and let him share my umbrella.

And the ****** still hasn't bought a showerproof
He's impossible.... he's obviously still... a non-believer.
This summer and autumn as well must have been one of the wettest ever in Ireland, was a real wash out.  But there was a few good weeks there just before Wimbledon, my theory is waterproof LoL.
Nolan Willett Feb 2023
Patterns everywhere, but what to foresee?
There’s Innumerable things to compare,
This OCD: a familiar bee, another tree,
If I only had the key,
Could make everyone aware,
I’m sure they would agree

Uneven roads,spilt coffee
How loathsome, how unfair,
All these patterns seem to be.
So many things to see;
And now what’s over there?
And what does it mean to me?

Their meanings flee;
Ignoring every prayer
From this humble devotee.
So now here is my decree:
I’ll renounce, forswear,
Over and over, plea and plea,
‘Til someday it lets its hold from me.
I S A A C Jul 2022
take off your shell, wash off the dirt that is layered upon your skin
come out of the cave, show us what’s within
the expertly built walls that surround your lake of life
you can’t keep swimming away all your life
reclusive exclusive beach ***
elusive and ruined pretty creature
Joseph C Ogbonna Aug 2021
On a summer day I saw a pretty dame
bathing in the warm waves of the beach's tub.
She tanned her skin to adorn her slim frame,
massaging its softness with each gentle rub.
From that distance, she exuded sweet fragrance
stemming from the refining of her radiance.
Sensual movements from lips, hips, curves, legs and hands
made me fantasize as I relished each moment.
My love-struck eyes gazed at the rhythmic movement
of this ******* clad model for all lands.
After a sunbath, she tied her pristine towel,
then with a fixed look, she gazed straight at me.
'Hello, the adventurous gentleman,' said she.
'You sure look gay, hale, hearty and swell.'
Shyly my fears of rejection loomed large,
whilst my love dreams turned out to be a mirage.
Elusive Love Dreams at the Beach
Nolan Willett May 2020
Truth is found when one can
Reconcile the irreconcilable
That’s why it’s so elusive
And Illusive
Because you can’t,not completely,
At least not humanity,
Paradoxes obscure, but also vindicate,
The all
And everything.
And creation is a scientist
And we are its Petri dish,
And creation is a mystic,
And we are its parish.
Science the soul
Nylee Nov 2019
Stop, step away.
I am not in narrative
Let's keep it that way.
John H Dillinger Sep 2019
The Faceless Man

He walks the world without one,
but could borrow any face.

I could guess the colour of His skin
but He doesn't belong to any race

As soon as He's within your grasp
He disappears without a trace

And you can only sense His smile
As He slips into your place.
The Faceless Man is a recurring poetic character of mine. Something always lurking in the shadows.
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