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 Oct 15 fearfulpoet
Woody
She says
you're strange
and I can't quite
put my finger on it
like fog, so I tell her
listen, the smoke
that a poet lives in
is transparent but real
a mystery you can't touch
the wound is too deep
in the soul of the poet
to be excavated like a stone
and polished or broken
like a dark mirror
in the darkest room
on the darkest nights
alone, like the moon.
miles mean nothing to a heart that is pure
words penned in grace, sent to ether
give heartease to the overstretched
sowing stiches of understanding
in tapestry threadbare

little suns and stars
shining bright in love and hope
from face unseen and adirondack chair
gives strength to one down, from down under
allows grief, the words needed the abilty to care
for these simple gifts, no payment required
from the heart open to care...
in response to a beautiful poem" the dirge of memory" gifted to me by Nat Lipstadt....one in a million..
She was no saint, no wonder woman and yet
my mom possessed some of those qualities.
A strong sweet person, with a loving heart.

My father was no fool, but with mom's quite
strength and guidance he was a better, smarter
man and family leader. This fact never more
obvious than after she died at 54 and he had to
cope on his own without her. A grieving man
reduced to a child for a time. He never fully
recovered. Rational decisions eluded him.

No matter how well it's constructed,
Every ship needs a good compass and
strong rudder and my mother was ours.
My brother and I though grown and
aging men, still steer the course she charted.
We never forget those that gave us life,
molded our values and enriched our minds.
Though many years may have dimmed their
earthly image, time can not erode their
moral teachings forever etched upon our souls.
A charted course we have passed on to our
children too.

For my big brother Phil.  In lasting shared memory
of our mother.
Between us lies
an eternity
yet I breathe your air,
an eternity between
but I felt it again!
the thrill, the high when i'd caress your hair..

that same glimmer in your eyes,
that same stare,

a wiser embrace
a wrinkle here and there,
your countenance still other-worldly
and fair.

an eternity between us,
but you broke the spell!
still together..
and no one can tell
the most vivid dream to date that I have had of my beloved.. who left this realm 14 years ago. age 26. He spent the whole night with me. it was a real visit and i woke up feeling he was with me ..yet so far away
 Aug 2018 fearfulpoet
Ogden Nash
Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
The bear said, Isabel, glad to meet you,
How do, Isabel, now I'll eat you!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry.
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She washed her hands and she straightened her hair up,
Then Isabel quietly ate the bear up.
Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch's face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled.
**, **, Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I'll turn you into an **** toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry,
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk and drank her.
Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forhead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I'll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She nibled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant's head off.
Isabel met a troublesome doctor,
He punched and he poked till he really shocked her.
The doctor's talk was of coughs and chills
And the doctor's satchel bulged with pills.
The doctor said unto Isabel,
Swallow this, it will make you well.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She took those pills from the pill concocter,
And Isabel calmly cured the doctor.

— The End —