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lmnsinner Nov 2017
she just shakes her head

she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance,
in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night,
I greet her with words semi-adventurous -

“come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company”

to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve
lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some
kids appear, a surprise omen as they come
trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving

the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer
in his native Bangla

she asks “what’s that he’s saying?”

“Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and
may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune”

she just shakes her head, from side to side

emerging from the store, walking home in the
now doubly ***** darkly dusk,
a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me
“you’re home late and have a great weekend,”

she asks, “who is that?”

“why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’

she says:
“he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in tall buildings,
yet knows your name, your face,
where u buy your lottery tickets,
your coming and going hours,
how came that to be”

but waits not for an answer
she just shakes her head, from side to side

I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house,
the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop
a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment

a secret elevator which is under the direction of
Bimal from Nepal,
who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor)
asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys

now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging,
she just shakes her head, from side to side

later she says:

“let’s order in, apprise me of  your expertise,
some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue,
known for its aphrodisiacal powers
you must tell me each dishes name,
in its tongue’s nativity,
but much, much later,”

and as she speaks,
she sticks out her tongue,
while she just shakes her head,
but this time,
up and down!
11/17/18 ~ 11/18/17
The Snell Test tells
Of the power of thy eye
And the sphygmo speaks
Of the depth of thy sigh.
The thermo utters
Of thy body's heat
And the BMI flutters
Of the nature of thy eat.
But little did you know
Amidst the signs that glow
How my poems ****
Of the wonder of thy heart.

The stick stands still
To apprise thy height
And the balance lies still
To narrate thy weight.
The banks never went sank
To estimate thy wealth
And the clinics never went sick
To illustrate thy health.
But little did you know
Amidst the hints that glow
How my poems unfold
The measure of thy worth.
On my gravestone under the name,
“Memento mori” the only phrase,
Written as prayer in dark frame,
These words ’ll glow like endless blaze.

It’s all for humans I’ve to say,
Remember living through each day,
We’re the mortals in short play,
Thus, keep on riding in own sway.

Under enormous sky grave lies,
Along the hills and northern star,
So small in size but so apprise,
Why does man see it so bizarre?

Before the human closed own eyes,
When vanished last man’s memoirs,
And sounds of those crying skies
've passed beneath the fading stars.
“As arrant squall enters from all corners,
As our daily rituals must procure to dormant,
Lacking warmth of suns touch upon our skin,
As the winter winds ere upon our ambience,  

As our once daily formality would bring us,
Alongside a cool pool a beach or just quirks,
A spathe of skin an apprise bronze from the sun,
As dangling brown leaves parched fall to terrain,

As a sunken suns down in early afternoons,
The winter bellowing of moons as they procure,
Branches of once fruits and such now withered,
Now lay along the cold grown fallen as chill beckons,
The winter sings of creeping crows,

Beneath the blaze of summer hung the beauty foliage,
Flowers to be inherent upon a warming spring,  
Graciously arranged to fade beneath a winters squall,
Once bright green leaves dying and sizzling on the trees,
As lonely fledgling birds pay respect as they fly west,
As they seem to say Adieux Summer once again”

By Andrew Guzaldo © 10/30/2019 #170
By Andrew Guzaldo © 10/30/2019 Poem#170 Hello Poetry
Tufts of shamrock lea
tickling the back of my feet
as I my honey orbs
darted across
the meadow of elusive hope.

His smile so proud
of his moves so smooth
the shard pieces of my heart
I threw to apprise him
of the colors of my soul
that began to blend
since the moment I saw him
across the field of flimsy chance.

He swaggered his way
through the obstacles ahead
smirked when he took note
of the flies that hovered above
but not the fawn of honey orbs
that watched him across the field.
Carl D'Souza Aug 1
When I feel sick,
I don’t understand
all the complex details
of medical-science,
so I have to trust a doctor
to cure me;
but I trust with trepidation
because doctors are human
and so unomniscient and fallible;

I do my best
to apprise myself
of the medical-science
about my health-condition
so I do not have to blindly-rely
on the doctor,
and so I can make wise choices
about my healthcare
to optimise my health, joy and happiness.

— The End —