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 Apr 2015 Thelma Hunt
Jason Cole
the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason

fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn

to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail

to unhope

and all of this minus the mercy

©Jason Cole
I spent my life
trying to please my family

It didn't work

I spent my life trying to
Please others


I spent my life......
Be yourself
I went back to the doctor
And I swear, this is no fib
He told me that the line I found
Was ...get this...yes..a rib!!!
I told him, doc, you're crazy
I've not seen one in years
Except for ones I eat in bars
And wash down with ten beers
He said, "Well, Mr. Turner"
"That's a rib...as sure as ****"
He said "you must be losing weight"
"and you've uncovered it"
"I've been a doctor for a long, long time"
"and believe me when I say"
"I've seen a lot of ribs my boy"
"And I'm seeing one today"
I asked him "will I soon get abs?"
He told me "that will come in time"
"Don't put the cart before the horse"
"That sir, is a crime"
"You've found a rib, you're doing well"
"Your bloodwork came back good"
"Cholesterol is way way down"
"It's showing what it should"
I said "I can't believe it"
"good blood and ribs as well"
"I've got to get on facebook"
"I've lot's of folks to tell"
I then went on to tell him
I could see below my lap
He said "it's not your *****"
"It's just a dried up ,old , skin flap"
"Take your time and you'll get healthy"
"You've more ribs to go and get"
"You're doing much, much, better"
"But, your'e still not healthy...yet"
I said "there's something wiggling"
"When I look down, past my nose"
He said, "you won't believe me..."
"But, I think you see your toes"
I couldn't take the good news
I almost fainted dead away
Good blood, a rib, and now my toes
This was a special day
The best part of this visit
The most important news
Is that because I see that skin flap
I'm no longer peeing on my shoes!!
 Apr 2015 Thelma Hunt
Jonny Angel
Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
Star light star bright
first star I see tonight
I wish I may I wish I might
Find a place that has a  room

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake
Remember me as I was

It's cold outside
Please let me in
I have no place to go
It may not be
A wind chill night
But, the clouds all look like snow

The day is done;
O God the Son,
Look down upon
Thy little one!
O Light of Light,
Keep me this night,
And help me greet the day

Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me:
Bless Thy child to-night;
Through the darkness be Thou near me,
Keep me safe till morning light.
All this day Thy hand has led me,
And I thank Thee for Thy care;
Thou hast warmed me, clothed me, fed me;
Listen to my evening prayer


Star light star bright
first star I see tonight
I wish I may I wish I might
Find a place that has a room

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake
Remember me as I was
I have reworked a few childrens bedtime prayers, just to make us all think of those unfortunate enough to not have a bed, or someplace warm at all. Especially with government cuts to funding and donations so badly needed for missions. This is just a piecemeal write, but, I hope it resonates with you.
 Apr 2015 Thelma Hunt
Dreamer
The crowd fades away
As chords in every melody
Rings in our ears,
And shivers downs in our body
It vibrates in every muscle
A musical fusion
Almost everything didn’t matter
It’s you, me and the beating rhythm
The graceful posture
The sway of every gesture
It’s a motion adventure.

Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through
Pervading the entity
Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body
into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music
Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul
covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior

A freeing beauty
of movement to the rhythm
A therapy to the mind and body.
Dancing to the music,
feeling every tune
every beat
every breath of every movement,
with Explosions of Euphoria
how about that! :) I'm so proud of us, we did it! I'm having that totally awesome post-poem feeling you know? So incredibly honored to be working with you, dear Pax :) We did a fantastic job, woot woot! (((hug))))
 Apr 2015 Thelma Hunt
NV
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
 Mar 2015 Thelma Hunt
martin
Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you
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