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 Sep 2015 Tryst
Brother Jimmy
The bustle and the tedium
Are things I need escaping from
Yet time speeds by and still have I
Not planned a foray ‘neath the sky
To places that I know will put
My careworn brow back where it ought
To be.  And so my torpor worsens;
I begin to draw-back from random persons
I give up as I’ve done before
But freefall further.  What a bore
I have become...the quintessential
Flawed human… (how provincial)


It’s time to make the drive up north
To face my demons and burst forth
Upon the beautiful scenes I’ve seen
In years gone past, blue, brown, and green
Across sacred Adirondack waters
I must lead my son and daughters
Set up camp and sweat and think
Stoke the fire, pray, and drink
Climb and swim with nonchalance
This head and heart need renaissance
So I say, …and so I need to do
But I’m crippled from this moody blue
I miss my yearly reset.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
jerely
Thoughts (2)
 Sep 2015 Tryst
jerely
The power of speech
is to get people's attention.
It is the most powerful words
that it may sweep you off.
They convey everything
to small to big thoughts.
Either, negative or positive.
Words of speech has advantages
& disadvantages as well.
It may vary on how you
can relate it to people.
Some may bad or
some may good to others.
Some are sweet or some are bitter.
They are like a magnetic shield
flowing on top of your tongue.
It drives you crazy, insane.
Provokes you or less.
But will give you lessons
to teach you in your life.
my opinion only.

Jerelii
Sept 11, 2015
Copyright
 Sep 2015 Tryst
jerely
Thoughts (1)
 Sep 2015 Tryst
jerely
We take back our inner thoughts when we feel like something is not gonna happen.
We overly looked up from our past than seeing ourselves in the future
When sometimes chances are there we just reject it for the reason that we expect from more. But when the time comes we feel regret it at the last moment of our chances.
Jerelii
Sept 11,2015
Copyright
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Francie Lynch
We've all heard the story about Bonnie and Clyde
How they met, eloped and died.

And we're tired of hearing
About Henry and Ann,
And their shameless lives
Back in Tudor England.
When their marriage broke,
Ann lost her head,
With one stroke.

I won't bother you with the story
Of Napoleon and Josephine,
And that messy business
With the guilotine.

You know Caesar and Cleo
Put on quite a show,
They had a long distance relationship
From Rome to Egypt.
But it ended badly.
She by a snake bite,
Him by Marc Antony.

These famous couples didn't tarry;
They were harried
Before they married;
They met and wed,
But were too soon dead.

Now Byron and Colleen
Met when teens,
Byron was sixteen,
Colleen just fifteen.

They lived together,
To begin,
He loved her,
She loved him.
This wasn't living
As they say, “In sin.”
No rings lingered
On wedding fingers:
No bands of gold
To wear 'til old.
No license, no Registrar,
No vows were spoken,
But their silent vows
Were never broken.
They didn't need
A wedding token.
The cost was never the issue here,
Although Byron always claims he's poor.

And thus they carried on.
Boy, did they carry on.
In a romantic spree.
First came Jordan,
Then Jamie.
And thus they passed
Their years together,
In seeming status quo;
A happy well-matched couple,
For all intents, and show.
They lived well,
Ate well too,
Dressed and drove,
Worked and strove
For friends and family.
And all along,
The two of them
Have been our pleasure
To know.
After all, they're behind
Their doors,
That's all we we need to know.
And thus, they carried on.
Boy, they carried on.

Years down the road
They honey-mooned,
And after this, they married;
Like Benjamin Button
All seems reversed.
Should they continue
This backward style,
Then in awhile,
Following this reception,
They'll probably meet
At their conception.
Should they continue
In this fashion,
Their marriage should end
With their parents' ******.

This is
The Ballad of Byron nd Colleen,
and if truth be told,
You're still just teens.
My friends got married after 40 years together. Read at their reception.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Francie Lynch
If I were to write you
A love poem
(this is only hypothetical),
So, let's pretend,
Like poets do.
Would you fit inside
The confines of a sonnet:
No, you're more free,
More like a breeze.
You're not ballad-like;
Though you could be
With those alluring green eyes.
I'd work on an ode
But you don't like heights.
We're not close enough for couplets, yet.
Free verse sounds like a fine fit.
You may end up being a muse someday
If I get the hang of it.
Most certainly when our elegy's written.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Ignatius Hosiana
Wanted love to bring peace
Not only because I needed a kiss
I wanted love to answer my question
I wanted love for some inspiration
I wanted love to bring me contentment
I wanted love to come by with forever
I wanted love,at least the statement
I wanted love more than to be clever
I wanted love because I needed care
I wanted love for a little mystery
I wanted love because I needed repair
I wanted love to erase my etched history
I wanted love because everyone wanted
I wanted love because I wanted heat
I wanted love because by single I was haunted
I wanted love only until I found it
Just another day
Same as the last
She knew nothing else
Only to feel pain

She belonged to him
There was no escape
Did all he asked
Never said no

How nobody saw
Those blackened eyes
The darkest of bruises
She never knew

He was older
To this young woman
Forced to find respect
Of a husband she hated

Never to bear a child
Because of the damage
The kicks he gave her
Did to her body inside

Knew if she escaped
He would track her down
Cut her beautiful face
Make her suffer in time

Too scared to tell
For would anyone listen
Who would help her
When he was her owner

So she continues to serve
Keeping it all in silence
Never to know real love
Always a slave to fear
Copyright © Chris Smith 2012
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Sally A Bayan
To be
a  husband, or a wife,
a friend
a sister, a brother
a mother, a father
an aunt, an uncle
a grandmother, or a grandfather,
one has to be a stronghold...an indestructible wall
amidst storms and droughts, never to fall
be thought of as Fire and Ice:

be the Fire, the steady flow of heat on icy, or wintry nights
the wood crackling, to fuel the flames dying...
a burning spur for the mind, when nothing comes out of the well
fire to boost the wilting spirit..bringing in newborn courage...
the warmth from hands that would hold... heal and  save
to fight for those near  you...even the ones farthest from you

be the Ice that never melts, right in the middle of the fire
to gently freeze anger...hostility...madness
neutralize the fiery air, to balance the atmosphere
to be a cooler head, among violent minds
make glaring eyes and deaf ears, receptive to reason
from red-orange...be an icy blue...

"Are you a shrink?"
i was asked once...
the thought lingered for a while...

Why, maybe...yes!
i've got no license, though
all i have are experiences,
a drop of wisdom...here and there
from times, when i failed
to notice what i was wearing
even the weather prevailing
because i was swimming
floating,
coping
with troubled, murky waters...

As heads of our families
Fire and Ice, we have to be...





Sally

Copyright September 6, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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