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Andy Chunn Apr 2022
We got him just a few weeks old
With energy to burn
But he was very brave and bold
For lessons he would learn

Named him Louie from the start
And every day was new
He ran and each day played his part
His love was deep and true.

We played and learned to chase the birds
As much as he would try
He never understood my words
That dogs can never fly

He was quick and he was smart
He understood commands
He had such a loving heart
Your love he would demand

Then one day out of the blue
Louie was not well
He was tired and troubled too
Anyone could tell

With my partner Louie went
Two hundred miles away
And I was checking, text were sent
On Louie every day.

I had to practice with the band
So early I had been
I sat there on the bench at hand
And wondered about him

And as I sat I saw a streak
A feather in the air
It flew and seemed to hunt and seek
Searching for me there

It swirled around and down the wall
The corner it did turn
And then like it had heard my call
It echoed my concern

The wisp was Louie I was sure
Sent to give me hope
It was a message to endure
Helping me to cope

It came at me so hard and fast
And flew beneath my seat
I hoped that it would stay at last
And make my day complete

The feather now I could not see
I smiled so deep inside
Louie had come back to me
Bliss I could not hide

But as I felt some comfort there
I saw the feather leave
It waved goodbye without a care
And I began to grieve

The next day when I got the call
The sun breaking the dawn
I knew before the words could fall  
That Louie now was gone

And now I know the wisp to be
The feather that would fly
Was Louie coming back to me
To say his last goodbye

A foolish poem I guess you think
It’s silly til the end
If so, you’ve not felt your heart sink
On losing man’s best friend
(Louie - RIP  November 9, 2021)
Michael Nov 2021
You're my kinda friend.
My kinda pal.
We've both been through suffering.
We've both been through hell.
We'll always have eachother,
now ain't that a fact.
I got yours if you got my back.
Raven Blue Sep 2021
My one and only
My buddy
When I'm lonely

I met you when I was younger
You were my listener
I was scared of dogs
So I was scared of you too

But you were always there for me
So I loved you
I never realized that
Until where I am right now

You were part of our family
And that will always be forever
You keep us safe
You were there for all of us

But I didn't expect
That things would change gradually
Now that you're gone
I feel empty

You were my everything
You were my best pal
I don't know how to live
Without you

I love you buddy
I will always love you
I'll miss you
May you rest in Paradise
And be with God

I love you Backy
Good friends
Reach out
Send love
Empathize and
Support each other
like a FAMILY.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
I fear
To loose a friend
So I don't make

But the Soulmates
They never
Get lost
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Art Of Living
Hrithik Hiran May 2020
Chehre pe gira jo woh boond uske
Jhalak ke aayi meri muskan aise
Ke Bikhri hui zindagi mein baras baithe
Khoyi hui aashaon ki baarish jaise

Bhul na paunga woh din
Pehli baarish jo bitayi thi saath mein
Chaatha tha mere paas bhi
Par ghus gaya tumhaare sang mein

Ek choti chathri aur hum do uske neeche
Bheeg rahe the hum aadhe aadhe
Par aise bheegne ka mazaa he hai kuch aur
Jab Aaghosh ke woh pal mile na kabhi aur

Chalte rahe hum aahista apne bus ki or
Kya batau kaise bitaye woh 5 minute
Unke Bheege zulfein jo karr rahe the shor
Chodke use apne bus mein
Bheegta raha uss pal ki yaadon mein

Aaj bhi Barsat jab bhi kare
Chaatha lene ko majboor
Yaad tumhari he karta hu Ke kaash tum hoti
Ghus jaata tumhare he chatri ki chaav mein
Pehli baarish ki un boondon ko chakhne
Ke kya swad aaj bhi wahi hai
Jo uss din chakha tha saath mein humne
This is about that special rain we all have had in our life in HINDI.
Hope you all like it!
Nat Lipstadt May 2020
Shiv Pratap Pal  writes me:

“Every elder must be respected even if he is elder by a single day. This is tradition. Please let me follow the same. A poet never gets tired and poetry never dies.”


Oh! this leaves me gasping for so many reasons needing enumeration.

The world reminds me daily by email and text, television commercial,
I am a privileged one, by age and right, among the most vulnerable,
so stay, baby, stay, inside your apartment and your mind where the
only virus that can come, is the one you’ve planted and tended all your whole life long.

Oft have I writ about being closer to the end, and this, untroubling,
a relief of sorts in what I fear is a new Dark Age that will arrive,
that will make writing poetry, sadly, an unlikely survival skill,
so I rite furious and furiously to give the best, the rest, of me, away.

Few are the societies that do not venerate to some degree, the elderly,
as if living long bestowed wisdom, in addition to an irritable crankiness,
(why the Inuit Indians put their elderly on an ice floe to die)
neither, both, of the “ain’t necessarily so” conditionals as wisdom deevolves and crankiness is a perpetual, a perpetual annoyance.

Do I deserve respect?

This haunts, for by right, we all believe it is
a conditional that must be earned, and not acquired by a general,
genetic lottery. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
I do not, and a man who announces,
“I am deserving of same”
by saying this, clearly is and was not, or ever will be.

A single day!

What an amazement!

This relativity theorem, this luck of the draw, can’t argue with it, because it is tradition, somethingthat I’m well acquainted, because when I suffered on Saturdays, as an Orthodox Jewish  Child, who wanted to worship with the brothers at the Riverside Drive basketball courts, was dragged to a synagogue where he joked, they could of just inserted the video tape of the prior week, prior year, thousands of prior centuries, a previous millennium, who’d notice?

Who deserves respect?

The teacher, the one who gives it instant unflinchingly,
he who accepts a task from a stranger to translate
his words to a language he knows not even the alphabet,
indeed, a tribute to another, and executes it so well, but best! best!
no questions asked.

Who deserves respect?

One who respects tradition,
giving respect unquenchingly,
for the things that we cannot see,
only observe, come only in a size of limitless,
come unasked, freely given, even happily, and this is
why, for all of the reasons herein listed above, I give all respect to
a fellow poet, and pledge to arm embrace before tradition’s always untimely messenger says to me अब और नहीं!  (no more!)

                                       Shiv Pratap Pal
Bleeding Doc Jun 2018
Barsat ki Ek raat dil ne dimag se pucha,  jo Badal raha wo 'waqt' hai?  
  waqt to Aaj bhi waisa he hai  bachpan me jaisa hota tha wohi savera wahi sham Or baki cheeje tamam
Par tab naa bhigne se lagta tha darr  or  naa sardi jukam,
or wo pani ki shrarate tamam
Jinki Yaad bhar se aa jati hai hothon pe muskan  
par ab aisa kya hua jivan ki iss Dagar me
kahan bhatak gaya in jhuthe rit riwazo me
Kaise jivan ke Arth badalte gaye
Kyo ek funny poem likhne wale
Emotional likhne pe majboor ** gaye

Hawa k jharoko se kashti hilti gayi
waqt k sath mein tau badlta gaya
aur yeh zindagi chalti rahi

pal pal nayi hasratein
har pal naye khwab bunti gayi
aur yeh zindagi chalti gayi

raah mein manzar tau bahut aaye
bulate rahe mujhe mere saaye
mein tau ek pal ko ruk sa gaya
par yeh zindagi chalti gayi

yaadon k saaye mein zinda *** abhi
lagta hai tham sa gay *** mein kahin
par zindagi bewafa sanam si nikli
mein tau ruka reh gaya aur yeh chalti gayi

jindagi har pal apne arth badalti rahi
ham hanste rahe chahhe rote rahe
par woh apni rafataar se bas behati rahi
kabhi ban ke sawal ,kabhi ban ke utar
woh  hame har mod per milti rahi
ham tutate rahe, bikharate rahe
 fir khud hi gir ke sambhalte rahe
aur jindagi yun hi jalti bhujhati rahi

gum mile kuch is tarah ki gum hi gum na lage
khushiyuon  ki baat bhi hame gum ban ke milti rahi
kya kare kisi se shikva, kya kare kisi se shikayat
apne hi jab todate rahe......
toh saans meri har pal ghutati rahi
bas jindagi yuh hi chalti rahi
har pal apne arth badalati rahi
a wonderful poetess friend
I did happen upon
she has a welcoming heart
ever to don

twas fated that we became
the very best of sisterly mates
there's such a genuine nature
in her soul's sates

I speak
of a true
one who
I implicitly
I speak
of a true
with qualities
that are a

dear Winn is an awesome
kind of gal
and I'm so thrilled having her
as my American pal
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
What is your wildcard, gals?
Did you get a *******, or a pal?
For some, it's standing room only,
Women work, men sit down, TV moanies,
It's called the wildcard for women,
Is he a snag or a caveman?
Feedback welcome.
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