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"alfie" poems
Cascades of red in Hedgehog Houle The beginning of Autumn falls over And breaks the greenest in morning We pass the church arched doorway And the hawthorn berries brightest. Walking the steady step in this day Finding the bend the windy winds Show me little Alfie in his nestling For love carries everything trusting This pathway of flowing memories. Love Mary **
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
Hedgehog Houle.
I remember my body trembling as I took my first step inside Payton High, I remember my hitched breath and twitching eye, I remember sitting behind a blue eyed boy during homeroom, I remember thinking his eyes would be able to light up the gloom. I remember it took me exactly one day, To walk to him during lunch with my tray, I remember offering him my cheese dip, And that was the start of our friendship. I remember wondering why he was always alone, When he was the most beautiful being I’ve ever known, He was spontaneous; he loved feathers; he loved star gazing, You could say I fell in love with him because he was amazing. Everyone ignored him as he walked on by, I never understood the reason why. So cold, so aloof, so distant from the crowd, I remember thinking it was because he was so proud. I tried many ways to draw him close, A movie, a drink, a lunch, all that I could propose, I am sorry, I am so sorry, was all he said, The light in his eyes went dead. I was never his and he was never mine, With this fact, I had to pretend I was fine, Little did he know he was killing me, Because my heart was locked and he had the key. I remember it was a rainy fifth of July, When I was talking to a teary eyed guy, Who had a newspaper on his right hand, And on the left was a pink wristband. R.I.P it wrote in capital letters, With a picture of two white feathers, I took the newspaper and there on the obituary, I saw ‘To the 1st anniversary of Alfie Ary’. The picture of my blue eyed boy was staring back at me, Black and white his smile filled with glee, My world started spinning round and round, My thoughts in disarray as I fell to the ground. Where was he, I looked all around, But he was nowhere to be found. The corridors were filled with haunting memories, Of questions unasked and cryptic apologies. I was in shock, was his existence a lie? Just then a cold breeze blew by, I remember his shaky breath whispering one last time, “I love you baby, but you can't be mine”. W.H.Y~
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
I Remember
I remember my body trembling as I took my first step inside Payton High, I remember my hitched breath and twitching eye, I remember sitting behind a blue eyed boy during homeroom, I remember thinking his eyes would be able to light up the gloom. I remember it took me exactly one day, To walk to him during lunch with my tray, I remember offering him my cheese dip, And that was the start of our friendship. I remember wondering why he was always alone, When he was the most beautiful being I’ve ever known, He was spontaneous; he loved feathers; he loved star gazing, You could say I fell in love with him because he was amazing. Everyone ignored him as he walked on by, I never understood the reason why. So cold, so aloof, so distant from the crowd, I remember thinking it was because he was so proud. I tried many ways to draw him close, A movie, a drink, a lunch, all that I could propose, I am sorry, I am so sorry, was all he said, The light in his eyes went dead. I was never his and he was never mine, With this fact, I had to pretend I was fine, Little did he know he was killing me, Because my heart was locked and he had the key. I remember it was a rainy fifth of July, When I was talking to a teary eyed guy, Who had a newspaper on his right hand, And on the left was a pink wristband. R.I.P it wrote in capital letters, With a picture of two white feathers, I took the newspaper and there on the obituary, I saw ‘To the 1st anniversary of Alfie Ary’. The picture of my blue eyed boy was staring back at me, Black and white his smile filled with glee, My world started spinning round and round, My thoughts in disarray as I fell to the ground. Where was he, I looked all around, But he was nowhere to be found. The corridors were filled with haunting memories, Of questions unasked and cryptic apologies. I was in shock, was his existence a lie? Just then a cold breeze blew by, I remember his shaky breath whispering one last time, “I love you baby, but you can't be mine”. W.H.Y~
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45
Every morning she went out for a walk To find where the fallow meadows swept And one bright clover peeped its head In the foliage of wild leaf and green grass. This part of the day was the beginning of joy As far as she could look back and see her way The lovely land dew wet on the leather shoes And little Alfie to remember passing his way. Love Mary ***
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
Little Alfie
The dream boy I want or no, should I say the man yes, he's a man, a grown one his age left boyhood 8 years ago but his demeanor says otherwise. (sometimes) I already have him. He's not very tall, only beat me by a slim 3 inches and his crooked fingers from breaking all them fit nicely into mine a broken jigsaw puzzle. he wears a flat cap like an Irish newspaper boy maybe it's because he's from potato famine land His breath lingers of cigs and alcohol with his grade-A Alfie Neuman smile and oh god, those everlasting deep dimples how can i forget to mention those pacific ocean eyes corazón de oro everything leaves me in awe take me take me take me love me we'd have the same initials if we married but all i want now is just to be able to touch hold caress love him.
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
to my seaniebear, whom i won't ever show you this
13:01 weighing 7lb 2oz you entered this world your mothers mirror image miniaturised wearing the smile her mother gave her.
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Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Alfie 4:20
Alfie won't eat can't keep it down there's fluid on his chest Three days two nights and lots of care he's home and well and blessed. Thank you to God whom heard my prayers and doctors that would not rest.
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Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
Alfies Home At Last
(Try singing this poem to Dionne Warwick's version of "Alfie," by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.) Somehow you went wrong, Lindsey.° Don't you feel like the president's chump? Don't you feel he's wrong, stringing you along, Lindsey? Strange things happen when you deal with Trump. You once said he was unfit, And if he was so unfit, Lindsey, Then what happened to make him the man? There can be no doubt what this is about, Lindsey. How did a foe become his biggest fan? I guess it doesn't matter if you've got no pride, Lindsey. How can you live with yourself? Can it be that Putin has some dirt on you, too, That you want to hide, Lindsey? Your odd behavior baffles us, Lindsey. Wait till you're thrown under the bus. You will be, Lindsey. If a fool is what you want to be, Say good-bye to dignity, Lindsey. Lindsey… -by Bob B (10-28-19) °Lindsey Graham, Senator from South Carolina https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YidCdaLPPR8
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Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
Somehow You Went Wrong, Lindsey
alfie said 'heaven is real' now I can't wait to go home.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
alfie
Alice tied string round her fingers, For each thing, lest she forget, She'd done all the work, Come up with the phrases, And with friends in mind off she set, Her first two strings were for Alfie, The hottest boy in the class, She unraveled each one, read its label, "Hey Charlie, lose the glasses, then lose yourself" "Tommy Digs shift, we don't want your fat *** Her third string was for the patio group, So she could sit at the benches every break, "Eugh, wrieking Robin, you stink worse than the bin, take It with you and get away" As the day wore on, More strings were untied, A trail of fraying strands in her tread, Each one connected, To the arms and legs, Of Tommy, Charlie, and Robin at the other end. As Alice was a puppet master, One of many in her school, With each new string to pull and tug, Her popularity grew, Alice tied strings round her fingers, For each thing, lest she forget, Each one she pulled on would tighten, And scar an arm or a leg, Cause her strings would entwine with others, And the few most ensnared and caught, Had no choice but to obey the ropes, Tied around their Wrists, their Necks, and their Hearts.
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Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Lest she forget.
Even when the sun is absent to cast it's light Still some shadow remains close in sight Moving as I do just at slightly different time And to my feet does it not align It is no shadow but an echo of maybe Unsure for its presence is so hard to see Perhaps a spirit following my every stride Nonetheless a friend in who I so often confide Together we roam both night and day And not too long is it ever away For in my sight does it choose to be Together as one in serene unity Though at times torches come a blaring And fear overcomes this spirit ever caring So whilst out in public does its body remain Within my thought does its life remain That night it was you who light upon me did give To show others how much you could get away with As if to your mischief not only an eye did I blind But care not for how much you did me undermine And though your sins did I forgive so hastily Your gloating did my friend and I effect most angrily And though I could not your presence abandon My companion fled with all speed it could fathom I always welcomed you no matter the consequence And fight did I always your fights too intense But that night as you shared space with my soul You took on a rather monstrous looking role As if expecting me to do your every chore Your egotistical rantings sent it right out the door So now if my kindness is once more disrespected Will your requests forever be rejected
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Alfie
There's a rushing and flowing of following feelings, I'm down on my knees, hey buddy I'm kneeling. Something's taken over my skin, its inside my soul and its making me thin. Its making me cold and its filling me with sin. Holding me tight, don't give up, but its stealing away my fight. Alfie is losing the battle with life, a violent attacking from and army of strife. He's not out for the count though, I still have my mind, Its not making me blind, I got my thoughts and I'm still quite kind. I'm here for the long run.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
violent attacking from an army of strife
Innocent and inebriated. In the dead of night she staggered. Young at heart but intoxication excess had made her slightly haggard. Emotionally charged with deep rooted scars upon her heavy heart. Shadows clouding judgment her world had been torn apart. No one knew her plight, her fight, the tragedy she'd faced. Take the story one year back where the cause is easily traced. Her little boy of five years old Alfie was his name Knocked down by a drunk Killed stone cold What an awful shame! A downward spiral an empty house The result of a mothers loss Equating to another drunk Who couldn't give a toss!
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
A Mothers loss
“What was it all about Alfie?” Yes, there was a time I didn't think of a woman’s feeling they were an object only of my desires. Then love came as did rejections and sleepless nights. What were the tears for when the dance was over she believed in me. This infatuation so slows at growing up for a time I visited prostitutes much easier that way but not really it left me empty inside and living in fear of Sexually transmitted illnesses not to forget, the self-loathing. Of course, slow as a man is in those matters it took a woman to teach me that love doesn't grow on trees like pears but is nursed through the heart transmitted through the eyes when you meet. Love is the only things that matter the rest is a waste of life as blood runs down a wall in a bombed out city in Syria
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
what was it all about Alfie
Hair that flicked across his face To make us joke he only had one eye He made us hold our heads up high When people pushed us down The red eyes more frequently bloodshot But we ignored all of the signs After all it wasn't unusual that Alfie was high He was high quite often He wouldn't cry or tell us about him Only ask about our day see if we were ok While hiding his own problems away Leaving us to think he was fine I hope you're happy now Alfie Now you've broken Lily and I I know it's harsh and uncalled for But did you have to go and die What the **** am I gonna do now? Try and stop your girlfriend falling apart? Good luck with that She was broken before you dropped her Broken before you were Broken but you held her together You held us all together alfie. Did you have to go and die?
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Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 6:42 PM UTC
Alfie
My dad Joe, was a gift from heaven, put on this earth to love only one woman. To have their children and love them true, each day with my dad was one in which you grew. He loved and cherished each one of us three, Philip, Jacqueline & Christopher - with Hilda, his love, by his side the family was complete. Riding a bike, driving a car, hiking up cliffs, hitting a ball, roller skating, skate boarding, travelling far, our Dad was always there to catch us lest we should fall. Sunday trips to the beach or river, climbing Kit Hill, trips to Morwelham Quay, treks on Dartmoor, ice cream treats, and Callard & Bowser toffee . Swimming, body surfing, Phil learning to drive on the beach, French cricket played on the shore, all of these outings gave us fond memories we still adore. Traveling with Chris and Mum on sunny days, staying in B&B's while they were away, Chris long jumping into the pit with Dad by his side was as good as it could get. Dad gave us each the tools to live our lives, independently, confident and worldly wise. He gave to me a love of the three P's -  people, politics, and poetry. To my brothers, he gave a love of all sports but mostly his beloved Cricket along with Rugby and Athletics. When each of us married he was there by our sides, smiling with pride, accepting our partners into the fold. To us all he advised don't do as I say or as you are told; seek out what or who makes you happy until you grow old. As our families expanded and grew he became a Grandad, first Michael came then Simon, Jason, Robert, Sophie, Danny, Sammy, Lola, and Jonah, he encouraged them in all that they did whether sports, drawing, dancing, work choices - 9 Grandchildren kept him busy as you can imagine. Then later in life as  Great Grandchildren were added Tansy, Alfie & Roman, life remained busy. My Dad was one in a million of that I am sure, I feel his presence every day, when out walking I feel he's not far away. When I'm playing with the grandchildren I know he's there too, smiling with pride in everything they do. When the family get together he's never forgotten and all of his grandchildren have their own stories to share; of Grandad and his sense of humour, his love, support, and care. We miss you, Joe ***
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Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
My Dad - Joe
My dad Joe, was a gift from heaven, put on this earth to love only one woman. To have their children and love them true, each day with my dad was one in which you grew. He loved and cherished each one of us three, Philip, Jacqueline & Christopher - with Hilda, his love, by his side the family was complete. Riding a bike, driving a car, hiking up cliffs, hitting a ball, roller skating, skate boarding, travelling far, our Dad was always there to catch us lest we should fall. Sunday trips to the beach or river, climbing Kit Hill, trips to Morwelham Quay, treks on Dartmoor, ice cream treats, and Callard & Bowser toffee . Swimming, body surfing, Phil learning to drive on the beach, French cricket played on the shore, all of these outings gave us fond memories we still adore. Traveling with Chris and Mum on sunny days, staying in B&B's while they were away, Chris long jumping into the pit with Dad by his side was as good as it could get. Dad gave us each the tools to live our lives, independently, confident and worldly wise. He gave to me a love of the three P's -  people, politics, and poetry. To my brothers, he gave a love of all sports but mostly his beloved Cricket along with Rugby and Athletics. When each of us married he was there by our sides, smiling with pride, accepting our partners into the fold. To us all he advised don't do as I say or as you are told; seek out what or who makes you happy until you grow old. As our families expanded and grew he became a Grandad, first Michael came then Simon, Jason, Robert, Sophie, Danny, Sammy, Lola, and Jonah, he encouraged them in all that they did whether sports, drawing, dancing, work choices - 9 Grandchildren kept him busy as you can imagine. Then later in life as  Great Grandchildren were added Tansy, Alfie & Roman, life remained busy. My Dad was one in a million of that I am sure, I feel his presence every day, when out walking I feel he's not far away. When I'm playing with the grandchildren I know he's there too, smiling with pride in everything they do. When the family get together he's never forgotten and all of his grandchildren have their own stories to share; of Grandad and his sense of humour, his love, support, and care. We miss you, Joe ***
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19
I leant upon the cold iron prop On the subway flat form: suddenly, my thought turn to this movie from the 80s About a little boy name Alfie Whose tongue got caught on the frozen lamp pole During a daring rush trend: Winter months can be so brutal **Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow** Winter Depression, / a seasonal S.A.D In the mist of all this: I saw a small bird Rumbling through the garbage looking for food His dotted feathers caught my attention Perhaps not all birds fly south for the winter after all: Homeless birds seek shelter with homeless humans Without the small outdoor wood fires: The beautiful landscape we once admired is blanket with snow The roar of the winds and the surging of water; It wasn’t a pretty sight to see with my watery eyes We cried out to our God for a little relief But most of all we keep praying for safety I fell on my **** trying to step over a bank of snow Luckily I didn’t land on my face The humiliation and the botherations of dealing, this kind of weather year after year: we just have to bear in mind that Winter begins on the winter solstice and ends on the spring equinox. The roses will bloom again, the tulips with rise again in April And we will determine which one is the morning dew And which one is not the icicle dripping: ......................................................................................... Prayer for autumn and winter days I’ve just rediscovered this beautiful prayer from belief.net. I know it’s now winter and the title is Prayer For Autumn Days, AND I’m not crazier than usual, it is still appropria… sparklesandangels.wordpress.com
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Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
Homeless Bird Seek Shelter With The Homeless
I leant upon the cold iron prop On the subway flat form: suddenly, my thought turn to this movie from the 80s About a little boy name Alfie Whose tongue got caught on the frozen lamp pole During a daring rush trend: Winter months can be so brutal **Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow** Winter Depression, / a seasonal S.A.D In the mist of all this: I saw a small bird Rumbling through the garbage looking for food His dotted feathers caught my attention Perhaps not all birds fly south for the winter after all: Homeless birds seek shelter with homeless humans Without the small outdoor wood fires: The beautiful landscape we once admired is blanket with snow The roar of the winds and the surging of water; It wasn’t a pretty sight to see with my watery eyes We cried out to our God for a little relief But most of all we keep praying for safety I fell on my **** trying to step over a bank of snow Luckily I didn’t land on my face The humiliation and the botherations of dealing, this kind of weather year after year: we just have to bear in mind that Winter begins on the winter solstice and ends on the spring equinox. The roses will bloom again, the tulips with rise again in April And we will determine which one is the morning dew And which one is not the icicle dripping: ......................................................................................... Prayer for autumn and winter days I’ve just rediscovered this beautiful prayer from belief.net. I know it’s now winter and the title is Prayer For Autumn Days, AND I’m not crazier than usual, it is still appropria… sparklesandangels.wordpress.com
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35
Two Stars shining brightly above Two Stars shining with gods love Two Stars related by birth Oskar and Ted my beloved Grandsons Missed very much by your Mummy and Daddy on earth We did not get to hold you and whisper your name We did not get to watch you run rings around your brother and call his name We did not get to be proud Grandparents and watch you grow But  Two Stars came and shone one day the result is one that did remain,  now Alfie has an earth brother Roman's his name Two Stars your family still think of you dearly and cherish your memory We wish we could have held you and kept you in our care All we asked was for God to love you until one day we can all be there Your life on earth was short and brief but  Two Stars you shine on in our memories
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Two Stars
AND NOW THE RELATIONSHIP CRISIS FORECAST ISSUED BY THE SANE SIDE OF YOUR SELF  ON BEHALF OF THE MERRY TIME & KEEP YOUR GUARD UP AGENCY. The general synopsis at mid-life is: Late 40’s dogged by blighted love life new all time low expected by that time. new all time low expected by that time. *** occasionally very poor at first becoming moderate or good. F**k  all (hand over fist)   ****** Marriage 3 or 4 becoming a bore. Blonde mantrap 34-24-34. **** Mrs. Fitzroy (formerly Finisterre)   affair deepening rapidly expected imminent. Getting carried away hoisted by one’s own petard. Chances it will work out alright moderate becoming decreasing slight. Fair Isle sweater left carelessly behind in car Eh...uh uh! Big mistake. Violent storm warning boyfriend built like Viking. Gulp...not Dover Wight! Becoming cyclonic ...moronic. Severe icing. Oh ***** Despair. Panic. Flight What more could go wrong? Chelsea 2 West Ham 1! Town gossip Lundy Fastnet informs wife. Accused of infidelities backing off into continual lying veering towards disbelief clothes thrown out in street. Locks. Changed. Caught fast in net like trashing fish. Future visibility moderate becoming poor in showers. Drunk. Again. Singing in the rain. What’s it all about ...Alfie
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Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 7:44 AM UTC
AND NOW THE RELATIONSHIP CRISIS FORECAST ISSUED BY THE SANE SIDE OF YOUR SELF ON BEHALF OF THE MERRY TIME & KEEP YOUR GUARD UP AGENCY.
My dorm room was bright this morning. It was disorienting. The sky outside was a cloudless, striking neon blue. The air was so crisp and clean, I could hardly feel it going in and out. It all sparked to create a diffused sense of well-being. Gone, it seems, were the concrete bunker feels of winter. There's been some loose talk of ‘spring’ lately—I thought it was fake news—but from my third floor lattice windows I could see what looked like people outside. They were walking in the sunshine, riding bikes, throwing frisbees, kicking ​​hacky sacks, a couple was making out in the grass—it was a riot of activity. Sunny skiffed out of her room (which looks like a hotel room trashed by some rock star), she seemed lighter than air. Three days ago, she announced there was someone of “particular personal significance,” in her life (translate: girlfriend). Start the schmaltzy, string-drenched soundtrack—love is in the air. Our challenge now is to carve out a poised and measured final act to our undergraduate years. There’s a scurrying, cynosure, beehive, hyperfocus to labs and classes, a heightened, almost cinematic quality, as if, up to now, we’ve only been practicing for some undefined ‘real thing.’ . . Songs for this: Daylight by Harry Styles Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing by Michael McDonald Dizzy (feat. Alfie Templeman & Thomas Headon) by chloe moriondo . .our cast: A reader once asked, “Who are these people?” (a solid question) So now I do a cast list. Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady. Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).
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Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 9:22 AM UTC
springing
My dorm room was bright this morning. It was disorienting. The sky outside was a cloudless, striking neon blue. The air was so crisp and clean, I could hardly feel it going in and out. It all sparked to create a diffused sense of well-being. Gone, it seems, were the concrete bunker feels of winter. There's been some loose talk of ‘spring’ lately—I thought it was fake news—but from my third floor lattice windows I could see what looked like people outside. They were walking in the sunshine, riding bikes, throwing frisbees, kicking ​​hacky sacks, a couple was making out in the grass—it was a riot of activity. Sunny skiffed out of her room (which looks like a hotel room trashed by some rock star), she seemed lighter than air. Three days ago, she announced there was someone of “particular personal significance,” in her life (translate: girlfriend). Start the schmaltzy, string-drenched soundtrack—love is in the air. Our challenge now is to carve out a poised and measured final act to our undergraduate years. There’s a scurrying, cynosure, beehive, hyperfocus to labs and classes, a heightened, almost cinematic quality, as if, up to now, we’ve only been practicing for some undefined ‘real thing.’ . . Songs for this: Daylight by Harry Styles Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing by Michael McDonald Dizzy (feat. Alfie Templeman & Thomas Headon) by chloe moriondo . .our cast: A reader once asked, “Who are these people?” (a solid question) So now I do a cast list. Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady. Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).
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19
imagine he was your child your infant imagine your child clinging to and fighting for life breathing on his own after ventilator’s plug was pulled imagine the doctors deciding against your wishes to let him starve to death depriving him of the strength to hold on and the nourishment to function and grow (miracles do happen, after all) imagine that you have another doctor a second medical opinion telling you there is HOPE but the medical monopoly and the courts say NO! imagine your helplessness and frustration imagine your rage and pain imagine a piece of you dying with your child How do you get over that? Del Maximo @06/27/2019
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT (ALFIE)?
Are You Going...?              *Benedíc nos Dómine et haec Túa dóna quae de Túa              largitáte súmus sumptúri. Per Chrístum Dóminum              nóstrum. Ámen*. Miz Busy with her homemade apple pies Uncle Alfie lapsing into a snore Young lads and lassies making goo-goo eyes Miss Billie’s cookies (shhh…they’re from the store) Children frolicking only with their ‘phones Jolly old Ed basting burnt barbecue An altar boy gorging until he groans The teenagers’ gross game of choke and chew Young marrieds getting into a squabble Politics roaring like a thunderstorm Bubba came drunk; he’s beginning to wobble Tox ‘tater salad that’s gotten warm Unidentifiable glop upon a stick – No, I’m not going to the parish picnic
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Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
Are You Going to the Parish Picnic?
The room was full of a quiet light, She lay back in the chair Letting peace find her, Cradle her in its arms. Everything seemed still. Then she noticed the curtain At the bottom, About the height of a child, Moving. She said it was like a baby tapping it from behind. She had to go over, eventually, and look. Nothing and no reason for the curtain To have done that. She had longed so much Just for some comfort. To know he lived And lived her as she had Lived him. She was very emotional When she called to tell me. She said "Mummy at least I know he's ok... I am so sure it was him." She just felt after all this time, That he was letting her know, He was there. A few weeks after, she found out She was expecting a baby. A sister, Bonnie, for Alfie. He was letting her know, She was coming. Sometimes, Time is different in immortality.... to how we see it. Pam's beautiful phrasing/words in a poem By me. Love Mary ***
0
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
A gentle touch