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Confronting profound consternation
The positive faces negation
But for unions that matter
Illusions must shatter
To welcome the reintegration
Anna Wakefield Oct 2024
Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
The end of all we knew.
The death of all the love and trust,
To be reborn anew.

Spring, rebirth, a phoenix,
All symbols we have seen.
One step forward, not a trick
Fleeing from where I’ve been.

Who was I? It matters not,
What matters is where I go.
Sure-footed now, giving all I have got
Can’t let the relief show.

The past is behind, and I don’t dare look back -
Or else I may lose the way
One day at a time, my plan of attack,
I am stronger, or so they say.

What will I face? I’m excited to see
Despite all I’ve left behind.
The worst has now gone, I guarantee
No more will I be blind.

You’re by my side, that’s the difference this time
The reason I’m so sure -
We've both had to hide, now there's you in your prime,
Two halves of something pure.
I wrote this when I was coming out of a terrible time in my life and met my partner.. My life is hard, and things didn't turn in to some fairy tale, but things are a little easier.
In my New Day I arose from my
screen-tent-mole-hole-flimsy-bomb-shelter-for-my-soul
and walked down to the banks of the mighty Missinabi River
at the Mattice Landing
with dog’s leash in one hand and my right hand
leading lady’s in the other hearing and feeling tall grasses
swishing against my pant legs
and the crunch of course sand under my feet that once trod fields of green tall grasses swishing against my pant legs in the meadows and rocky woods of
my childhood and youth where I spent summers working

at my Auntie and Uncle's farm in
Canada's Northern Ontario region and in the woods and along the banks
of the Lackawanna River just over the **** behind
the house of my childhood and youth in the Anthracite coal
region of the American Northeast which is light years away from the land of my birth where I now live in this Northern Ontario port in the middle of a deep
                                     cold sea of countless
                                     converging
                                     never-ending
rivers
lakes
trees
swamps
bogs
muskeg
and mountains of snow
where snow white and black flies fly freely.

I am always trying to go deeper into the trees and bush
burning deep inside my heart of hearts to follow the Moses
that is in all of us.

This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching
under foot and tall grasses swishing and canoe parting
waters that flow deep in my mind and spirit ~ once only
winding past burning villages where humans **** and pillage
~ but now also following a more
pastoral             idyllic           and super-natural course.

A vagabond never quite understands the working-class
woman and man living their small dream with their offspring and slice of land.

I thought they were all ostrich with head in sand.

But I now see that we can't all afford to brood as I often do over the daily news.

They must rise early the next morning alarm clocks not set on snooze.                                            

work ethic
family hearth and home
days of scent
of freshly mown grass  
barbeques                                          
campf­ires
tea kettle whistling  
coffee maker brewing  
children playing  
TV and music blaring
dishes rattling
in sink or
swim in the lake

Loosen the watertight mind drum and just dive into the
crunch of pebbles under foot treading fields of green tall
grasses swishing against pant legs...

Not only wishing
but going deeper into the trees and bush burning
speaking to our primeval consciousness.

This eternal Voice in pebbles crunching and tall grasses
swishing
The whooshing sound of wading in a stream streams
through my soul as I savour the body taste of wet gritty sand
between my fingers and toes crouched down wet-crotch deep waiting long enough for minnows to tickle fingers and toes as mosquito’s pin-prickle skin

Watching creatures much smaller than I gliding
even walking on calm still water which we humans can only dream of doing in our motorized sleep.

I think I now understand:

To not be constantly mourning the plight of man isn't being ostrich with head in sand.
I must keep gunning-off the haunted deeps alluring stare

I must taste life
    Smell and feel life
        Enjoy life outside of my troubled mind

against the backdrop of the latest holy war
and the imploding creations of our kind.
Copyright ©2018
Daniel Irwin Tucker

"where snow white and black flies
fly freely": tons of snow arrives in November and piles-up til March into April!  Swarms of little 'black flies' that take a good little chunk out of ya.
That's where i live in the far north of Canada.  
Another dance through my life memoir.
Lorraine Colon Jun 2024
When Life's darkest clouds gather over me,
I seek shelter from impending storms;
Curtains are drawn closed, all the doors secured ---
And soon Life's grotesque profile transforms

Darkness spreads its arms like a faithful friend,
Offering comfort and asylum here;
(I'd rather not see what lurks in the light --
What we can't see we tend not to fear)

In my solitude, peace and harmony
Join to banish thoughts of bitterness;
Soon yesterday's pains fade and slip away ---
Precious gift of sweet Forgetfulness!

And should the anguish prove unbearable
My beleaguered soul succumbs to prayer;
Please, don't pity me . . . I've been here before . . .
Misery always seeks its darkest lair

But I find that Time, with its healing hands
Soothes and calms the tempests of the mind,
And from my shelter I emerge, renewed,
Leaving Life's most loathsome hours behind
Maria L Apr 2024
~January
Time for resolutions,  opportunities. and changes. All I would think was, “Did I just blow open wide my world”. I’ve had enough of the disrespect, lack of appreciation and consideration. I lost 10 pounds within two weeks of saving myself. I felt the weight of my decision on my shoulders. But as I return the keys, returned the ring, took all my things and locked the door… a new person walked alongside me.
                                                    ~February
Romance, love, roses and celebration. I surrounded myself with friends and family. Old childhood friends, new forged friendships and kindness and patience. With truth, reveals secrets and deep thoughts that plagued myself and others, set free for healing to slip in. But I laugh again, I sing again. And all the while, that new person seems more familiar with each day.
                                                     ~March
­Luck, abundance and new beginnings. I noticed I think of you less, I think of me and my future more. I grieved the past, that present and the future I was looking forward to. However that future was bleak, filled with disappointment and tears. I now feel purposeful, proud, encouraged with the road my life has taken; as I look at this familiar person and say “hello again.”
                                                     ~ April
Renewal, resurrection, and blessings. Although at our anniversary and I could not be alone, I felt more seen and heard in this time than I had in the years I’ve been with you. I think of you in passing and the pain doesn’t sting as it use to. I feel sorry for that woman who held on for so long that she no longer has tears to cry. I shed that skin and can see how that familiar person alongside her as me. We are so alike now, she is so proud of her new and familiar skin and I am proud that I never lost her.
                                                      ~  May
I don't know what's in store. The ripples of my life have outreached my view but holding my own hand, nothing will hold me back. "Hello again" indeed.
Jade Jan 2024
I let myself break like the lines of a poem,
because every break is a continuation
of this wild & beautiful journey.

Every break comes with another grand adventure.

Another chance to try again when the sun rises
(there will always be tomorrow).

Every break comes with the promise of more poetry.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
Frame a dative… spelchekovian science
show me…
for the mind, a recipient, then come the
messenger,
the artist's intuitive hearing silent songs,
long after the alcoholic angst of the victors,

the good old boys, discerning whiskey from rye.

The mean dad's that haunt the fragile heros,
shirking duty to the institutions that reared you, boy.

There was an old boy's school at Los Alamos,
wasn't there, yes, the spiritual making of citizens
had occasion to fall from the annals of America's West.

Hard times don't last. Hard people do.
Too true to dispute, replied the peacemaker on watch.

If you read, you've read this far, making you ready
to rethink why you feel good reading lines ready
to be rethunk, in your mind, at the same time.

As any then in any future with electricity
at cloud of all knowing farthest sofareach.

Readers who write and share ideal viral aspects,
a touch of clear joy, shameless, blameless naked glee.
Such sow seed, we bits alive.
We can resee the scenes of Panic,
and recall manic antics that felt holy at the time,

there are all the good days that ever left a mark,
at your behest, for your per-use knowing, on demand,
ask, any mystery, show thyself not evil, prove my trust,

gnoshit, gnosis initiates are rare theses days,
or so any hermit guru would say if he were you,

have I not access to the cloud, using cred from
God knows when, did I not lay my heart, mind, body soul,
and spirit on the alter with Jefferson, in memorium,
"Eternal hostility toward any form of tyranny…
super positioned right mind measure, mensur,… meander,

sorrow, tomorrow, today we play,
a robocall, potential spam, I answer to anchor. Real time
Tzimtzums, pops can leave a body breathless, in a future else
when then this all seemed ok, not aspiritual, yes, yustsay
aspiring to our higher minds lowest sorted issues,
entertainment
to hold an audience, pending, hooks, we need seven, min-
imum, holy gnoshit boogers of amberised gnosisnotdrips.

Precious memories, how they linger,
how she thought she caught me cheating at her game.

Wisdom won me, wombed man, brought me to my knees,
if you please,
you walk upright, bold as brass heated seven times hotter
than any metal wonts to be, this side of the sun.

Have you never seen the blemishes, sun spots, raging
storms, time and chance, when and where, here we are,

lucky us, we are alive in 2023 before the folly of mass-
education by way of animation, and literature referencing.

Drama has a value, reason allows, making war devalues it,
turns it to **** only members see, select audience,
the seekers first see Vonnegut ******* {;*}
I think of those who think in this world, and use precious time to just think what we can do, we can make moments of practically perfect peace, no noise.
Paul Butters Mar 2023
It’s blue sky brightly sunny
As we await the Easter Bunny.
Still some clouds about
Rain might have a shout.

Remembering when Jesus died on the cross
Only to beat Death
So no longer a loss.

Let’s throw off our shackles too
Enjoy those Easter eggs,
Quaff a golden brew
And drain the barrel to the dregs.

It might be a crime to tire of rhyme
But give me a minute or two
Rhyme isn’t a favourite of mine
So I might not carry this through.

Forsythias, Daffies and now Mahonias
Gold flowers full of sun
Thinking of Begonias
Adding to the fun.

The Amaryllis must be out
Giving us a mighty shout
Other flowers too
What a lovely view.

**** and Robins are flitting around
Making lots of birdsong sound.
We’ve just sprung forward,
As you know,
So Nature is putting on
A bit of a show.

Symbolic eggs will soon be eaten
That chocky taste just can’t be beaten.
So enjoy Easter everyone.
Let’s hope we’ll be basking in the sun.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\3\2023.
Springtime!!!
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