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M Solav Jul 14
My childhood,
My whole upbringing,
All the things that I've done
And all of whom I have met;
Everything I have seen
In my homeland and overseas;
Every wasted thought,
Stories I have kept to myself,
Words I have shared in vain...
Such a quantity of inputs,
From ears, eyes and touch;
So much thought invested
Trying to uncover new paths;
All this pain for all this time,
All the joys that last a while;

They amount to just a few...
A few more clever taps
On top of the screen
Of an electronic pad.
Written in December 2018.
Afeli Jul 2018
You remind me of simple joys :
Like the touch of a comfy blanket,
Like soft murmurs of love,
Like a walk in nature,
Like a splash in a puddle,
Like writing a poem;
Like writing a poem about you.
When e'er i chance
     to steel a passing glance
     in the mirror hairline fractures appear
than 'afore long

     snap, crackle, pop
     becomes crystal clear,
whence aluminium glass mirror
     (made of a float glass

     incorporating additional processes)
     leaves highly reflective surface patina 'ere
one narcissist ken
     while away countless hours

     preening, primping, and pruning
     e'en the slightest glare
ring blemish finds cause
     for cosmetic surgery

     evincing interlinear
crows feet and dark
     circular "bags" that distinctly lear,
which medical term for skin folds

     and ballottable skin edema
     described as “festoon,”
     or “malar mound,”
     an eye sore overclear

demanding immediate
     dermatological action
     (if necessary) taking
     extra adipose tissue from rear

end supposed extra junk in the trunk,
     where derrière,
     would not be unduly sore,
     perhaps requiring

     (whatever would suture self)
     plus extra padded underwear
which subjugation voluntarily
     "going under the knife,"

     would stave off depredations aging
     (such as puffy eyes)
     at least for another year.
Samreena Lodhi Apr 2018
Another school life poem
krsna Jul 2017
Joys of celebration ringing on your ear
Smiling and happy people in every rear
What was missing?
Happiness, joys, and serenity
Dancing in the floor with crowd
Music and celebration so loud
Mideast of all I was dancing for formality
I was wandering far from the reality
I am dancing with the whole world
Yet a shivering and lonely feeling of cold
Fast and speedy has this dance become
But pain increasing inside me that I have to overcome  
Enjoyed by others this mutual touch of dance
I alone feeling like its dance to call the menace

The touch that will end soon
Feeling will be with moon
Said that everyone will be here
End of happiness
And that will show true and fare
Dance will become a march of dead
And soon no one will even share one crumb of bread
Evil that resides in us as selfishness and greed
Will take over the happiness and will breed

No more dance and mutual touch of attachment
Killing and betrayal will be final and detachment

Soon I will be dancing again
In the pool of vengeance and blood
Question same thing that was here before as a flood
What was missing?
Happiness, joys and serenity
(whence empty nest syndrome gnawed emotionally raw,
the tender sore gum chafing absence of lovely lasses –
on the straight and true – heading toward a horizon of their own chew zing.

That contractual obligation tubby selfless no longer applicable.

Stillness brings roaring back the routine activities, that seemed
to distort time by plodding along, until one day aye awake
to soundless of young girls mirth.

Because this papa doth love each offspring, the irony of parenthood
warrants forsaking being a vigilante.

They must needs go outward and upward, and such difficult
parting pained particularly poignant part and parcel of the role
of dutiful NON GMO gluten free fatherhood.
this then december twenty forth,
i felt an inner compunction
how tara became re: born
whereby this pop -
bleary eye lids ready to droop
with his tired bones snapping
and popping like jimmy crack corn
an immediate need to succumb to sleep

found me transfixed
how blessings did add horn
mine attention riveted at the then
early twenty something vanished self of mine

(where oh where did young Matthew Scott Harris go)?
stricken n fore lorn
though the hour well nigh
closing in on six in the morn
whereby the sage within mine psyche

waving a finger - tsk tsk - with mild scorn
for forgoing to bed, yet...
a powerful tsunami like force arose up
when viewing the account of how tara - blank -

became rent asunder and torn
from an terrible accident of fate -
though a miraculous recovery now worn.

an exercise regimen of running plus lifting weights -
perhaps so many reps of a curl
finds me applauding and praising efforts...
so you go girl
and hurl
with all inner strength pell mell into fitness -

testing your limits to the max
whether across busy urban streets or...
where landscape offers open space with pearl
jam skies - in outlying less populated tracts -
giving freedom 2 dance n twirl.

ye r so lucky tubby alive
cuz immediate family, friends, relatives
and now...this stranger gives u high five
without asking anything in return -
since inspiration courses thru me

inducing thyself 2 strive
and/ or if when fate decrees,
thee will make an awesome counterpart
who this older papa bloke would envy
as ye possess inxs of strength to re:vive.
blessing for sound health ™

upon waking every morning I offer silent benediction
for the ability to revel with full faculty of this aging body
still going strong where ability enjoying simple pleasures
available thru ****** senses plus cavorting via memories
with daughters in my nonsensical mien worth more than
money can buy, yet of course if I did happen to be a lucky
lottery winner that could definitely relief anxiety and allow
me to breathe easy yet could never do justice pitted against
sear ring roe buck body, mind and spirit triage.
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Sorrows and joy all
come to an end.
Life is up and down like that....
Julie Grenness Apr 2017
This is one joy of teaching,
Which is really like lay preaching,
That lucid clarity moment,
When, "Now I get it!" is an event,
It's called their comprehension,
Light has dawned, they never struggle again,
You can call that satisfaction,
Yes, it's like lay preaching,
The real joy of teaching!
Feedback welcome.
Julie Grenness Feb 2017
What is it really like to be old?
Read along, and you'll be told,
Well, there's spectacles and hearing aids,
Also along the way, by the way,
There's dentures in glasses,
Zimmers on greys who want to make passes,
Then there's incontinence aids, bad hips,
Appointments at medical specialists,
Then you're off to the pharmacists,
To get all your scripts,
Then there's the alphabet song,
Read along, read along,
A is for Arthritis,
B is for Bursitis,
C is for Constipation,
Always a grey consternation,
D is for Diarrhoea,
And no doctor wants to know ya!
Finally, Z is for the big sleep at the end,
No wonder geriatrics go round the bend,
Yes, greys, these are our golden years,
Have fun learning, no need for tears!
Feedback welcome!
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