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We both came in this world,
Together as a tiny creature.
Together we opened our eyes,
Together we'd seen the lovely nature.

We both became a caterpillar,
Together we sang the nature's song.
Together we played on a big tree,
Together we both grew young.

Nature never discriminated between us,
It distributed everything equally.
It gave us different colors to shine,
Also, provided us wings to fly.

We both decided to go out,
To make the nature bright.
You went out at the pleasant morning,
To spread happiness, I went at night.

They smiled with your presence,
Towards you, they showed their gratitude.
But towards me, their look was weird,
And they treated me with a bad attitude.

They always showed you immense love,
But I always faced their brutal wrath.
Is it so because you're a beautiful butterfly?
Or, is it because I am an ugly moth?
hello everyone,
The two creatures butterfly and moth shares the similar features to born and grow into an adult. at the stage of caterpillar no one can classify them as moth or butterfly but as they grow young we get attracted by the beauty of butterfly and hates moth and tries to throw them out... It might be because butterflies arrives at day and moth comes at night...
We will never forget...

The last day dawns on my life
And I don't know it
As I wake up to golden rays
Of sun knocking on my eyelids.

I kissed my wife good morning,
Got up out of bed
And tucked her in again.
Naomi spent 10 hours last night
Delivering a new mother's firstborn.
I didn't tell her good morning
And I wish I told her I loved her
But I didn't want to wake her.

I sipped my coffee on the way to work
As if it were any other day,
My only worry was if I had spilled any
On the new pink and white
Polka-dot tie my daughter Elise
Had bought me for my birthday
Last weekend
Or the new Bostonian shoes
My wife gave me
With the card that read,
We love you from top to bottom!

I walked into the conference room
And checked my watch:
8:36.
I was 9 minutes early
To the most exciting moment
Of my career:
My first pitch as project manager
For the new country club going up
East of the city in Glenwood Landing.

I was 10 minutes early
To the most helpless moment
Of my life.

At 8:45 I said good morning
To many fine ladies and gentlemen...
Bankers, lawyers, city representatives,
A union boss, some secretaries,
And a stenographer in the back.

The same words I would never again say to my wife and child...

And immediately I was thrown
Through the air
And knocked against the righthand wall
Of the room.
I was utterly confused
And my face burned
From the coffee I had been holding
That now stained
My beautiful polka-dot tie.

It would be nothing compared to the heat I would soon face.

Outside our 111th-story window
Rose an obsidian plume of smoke.
We all knew something terrible
Had happened just a few floors below.

The fine ladies and gentlemen
Of a moment ago
Quickly turned into uncivilized beasts
As the lights went out
And the piercing scream of the fire alarm
Shouted louder than the new mother
Experiencing the pain
Of her first childbirth.

Smoke very quickly came from below
And filled the floor with the foulest odor
I had ever smelled:
Burning rubber, sulfur,
And burnt hair.
Others in the room sealed the door shut
With expensive overcoats and undershirts
From Armani and Burberry.

They tried the phone countless times
But the line was dead.
I looked down at my watch
As a bead of sweat fell from my brow
And landed on my new tie:
9:11.

Today's date.

The fire alarm got tired of yelling
And the room was filled with an
Uncomfortable rumbling sound...

Flames...

...and the hysterical wails of the
Fine ladies and gentlemen in the room.
Some prayed, some wept together,
Others wept alone.
The one thing we all had in common
Was the persistent coughing
From the obsidian smoke
Slicing our lungs.

I looked down at my watch:
9:23.
The heat was now almost unbearable.
We huddled around the window
Jack or John or Jim smashed
With the powerful throw
Of a mini-refigerator.

When I gazed out the window
At the same sun that kissed my eyelids
This morning,
I was calm.
I thought of Naomi, who was
Surely watching on television
As her family called her to make sure
Her and I and Elise were alright.

Daddy's alright, baby girl.

I'm alright, Naoms.

9:31...
Gary or Greg was the first to jump.

I'll make it home to you, angels.

9:32...
Sophia or Cynthia was next.

Please, God, get me out of here...

9:33...
Jack or John or Jim
And Patty or Peggy
Were each other's last hug
As they fell
Like two stars from heaven.

9:35...
I couldn't see
And I couldn't breathe.
The sunlight was the last thing to kiss me.

Before I jumped
I felt my girls.
I touched the tie on my neck
And the shoes on my feet.

I love you both

From top to bottom.
Written 4 years ago, I always repost this on 9/11.

#neverforget
Second Skin


I find sleep quite amiable
less resistant
after touching
The timpani of tigers
like prowling
Your other jungle-wilderness .
It’s my undoing
after we have done what we did
Physically
Akin
Our own doubts kept close as
Our tingling, our tender cooing…

The gooseflesh shivers
Birthday suits
Aquiver
In the miasma of life's (bowels)
howling, bowdlerizing
the sensations of our
everyday heaven.

I find sleep more pliable
after a swim in you
and I taste myself
in the salt
of our commingling
skins
        Tingling
Whinging
swathed in mouths
primrose
fragrant waterfalls
thunderclouds /deluge
A downpour.

Seed & Petrichor

in the aftermath
Of our victory
That ******
within and about
our dance of
Skin—I am
washed away
a tiny death
a cry to heaven...

I feel naked
when you're not clothed on me,
how queer to need you
to swim ...

I find dreams much better
aloft
My second skin.
Making Love is the tiny death.
He trails.

He turns.

He falls behind.

But always discerns.

Fortunately our tastes for this
sort of life coincide,
except in the matter of sunrise,
which he likes to see up and dressed,
and I from my bed.
A clear blue sky
marbled with a wisp
of clouds

and the bubbles
how could we not remember
the bubbles

my tuxedo your dress
the chapel peopled with those we love
and other guests

the pictures the fountain of punch
the cake smeared
across our faces

a wise man once said
the most important thing
to remember

is not to forget

whit howland © 2021
Happy Anniversary to my lovely wife.
 Jun 2021 Valsa George
SCHEDAR
Born into
unsteadiness,
hands sprinkled
with tremors

inspired by a crayon,
a pencil
then a brush

Now an artist steady,
paints with a wand
to seal his
magic touch
Stan is  ninety three on  this date    
still waiting at Heaven’s gate
where his Love
went on before him.

Some day soon
he will join June
Where the light
will never dim.

Time has past since
he hugged her last
now, the pain
unreal at times.

He knows she lives
where God’s Love gives
us Peace and
love so sublime.

And now….

His mission fulfilled
In what God willed
the race will end
never more to roam.

He made the right choice
The Angels rejoice
God’s forever Love with June
Stan will be going home.

Never more to roam.

(C) 06-14-2021
John L Stevens
Now 93
 Jun 2021 Valsa George
SiouxF
The unknown
Is worse
Than reality.

So embrace the fear,
Throw caution to the winds,
Have courage,
Faith and
Trust,
Then set sail in the direction of your fear,
For that...
Is where your destiny awaits!
Having realised an earlier poem of mine, Fear II, had the complete opposite meaning of what I intended, I was inspired to pen the above.
 Jun 2021 Valsa George
Brett
Oil painted red sky summer
Blue moon June, and tailor-made memories
Skimming the surface like a skipped stone
Riding the ripples
Of an early summer’s amplitude
Like a light ray runaway,
Dancing with darkness anxiously on the edge of the abyss
A lone wanderer,
Searching the soil for some semblance of a soul, but
Our bound hands were meant to dig
Never to hold
Skip a stone and watch the ripples underneath a gray beard mountain.
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