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 Nov 2015 Val Vik
Nat Lipstadt
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
 Nov 2015 Val Vik
Mfena Ortswen
Surely
The day will be light
Darkness will be night
The wind will blow
While rivers flow
The sun will glow
As night creatures lay low
Why trouble incessantly
With what happens tomorrow
As long as earth remains earthly
All will come and go
He comes to her in moonlights glow
Wraps her in his arms  
  
              it is so cold....

Protection he bestows
Yet she cannot feel his skin    

              so cold, she's shivering....  

Only the feeling from within
  He is her forever mate
At least in her minds sake  

              her breath crystallizes, frozen  

She cannot know if he is truly there
Or if her mind just fabricated him to help deal with what she cannot bear.
  
              so cold, dark, shivering,  can't see

For he is only a ghost that shall forever leave with the dawn
With the break of the sun he disappears
*gone
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Robert R
Dagger
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Robert R
With this last goodbye, I leave you this.

With this last goodbye, I miss your kiss.

With this last goodbye, I realize that the pain and the lies and constant fights were the dagger that caused us to die.

With this last goodbye, I wish I put the dagger down. Thought it was funny to juggle it, but look who's crying looking at the puddle now.

With this last goodbye, I realize I wasn't perfect. Maybe not worth it.

But with this last goodbye, I realize love is worth it, it's meaningful and deep, I hope to god I hold you in between the sheets, with this last goodbye, I say, sorry I love you.
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Sia Jane
Poets Ink
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Sia Jane
It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane
Mike opened this piece and we went from there.
Hope you enjoy this Hello Poetry collaboration too :)

It goes without saying, just how honoured we are to have this as Daily <3
Y'all are the greatest <3
Thank you so much <3
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
penn
Solitude
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
penn
Solitude is my friend
Doctor says  I can't be alone
It is not that I am not able to
It's more like I should not be allowed to
Because in Solitude I found a friend.

She's always there when no one's around
Solitude is nice to me
I tell her things I don't tell to anyone,
I do things with her,
That no one could imagine.

When I reach out to her
Even if I don't seek for her
She's there
She's my bestest friend and my baddest fear.

She tells me things,
She tells me things to keep me with her,
She says my friends are my enemies,
She says my relatives wouldn't understand me like she does..

She says...

And I listen
And I understand
And I have no option

I believe her
Because she's there with me, my Solitude.

My loneliness,
And here I am again
Caught up in her vortex,
Writing her a love poem..

But not all endings are happy
My doctor keeps reminding me.
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Nancy E Tracy
A poet is a nightingale
Who sits in darkness in the wood

He sings to cheer his solitude
With sweet sounds noone's ever heard




"In His Land of Dreams"
 Oct 2015 Val Vik
Hanna Mae Mata
They say that
true love is
to give without
asking for anything
in return.
So perhaps,
that's the reason why,
I love you
even though
you love her
And why
you allow me
to foolishly do so,
every day.
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