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Napolis Sep 2018
Walking

to the
places
that are
your day,

let me
see them
through
your eyes.

and hold
them and
understand
them as
you might.

let me
walk your
path in
the harmony
that is
you.

and dance
upon the
smiles that
you meet.

because you
in any day
would be
a blessing
at first
sight.

a timing
of goodness
and peace.

because
that is
what
I feel
whenever
I see you
in clouds.

it is
in your
nature.

so many
great things.

and I
want to
discover
them as
a child
all over
again with
you..

so that I
maybe
familiar
with them
too,

as I take
these simple
steps in
my day

of find
you and
be closer

to where
your canopy
dreams

lie.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
THE ONLY THING
(for Barbara & Ray)

Ah, little daughter
the only thing

I can tell you
was that you were made

with love
our love

and that before we
could get to know you

Death: unmade you
& you vanished from our sight.

Ah, little daughter
if only I could tell you

what you would
like to know:

'What was I like? '

And I cry: 'I don't know
...I don't know? '

The only thing
I can tell you

(little daughter...are you listening)      

the only thing I can tell you

was that you were
made

with love

our love
Napolis Sep 2018
There is
nothing
hidden
in your
eyes
from me.

your light
shines
outward

like the
sunrise
coming
over the
horizon
line.

the small
of your
back
stirs to
the morning
warmth
like a
cat stretching
on a
back porch
swing.

and a
music
is in
your heart
that fills
the air.

I can
hear it,

and it
moves
my heart
to embrace
and unconditionally
accept
all that
you are.

in this
nothing
place,

where just
over the
hill
golden
fields await
patiently
to be
harvested,

just as
you have
harvested
me,

from the
very
first
day I
saw your
smile ,


and your
grace
and beauty
fell upon
me.

and left
me here
in this
nothing
place.

and the
beginning
of a
thousand
possibilities
to dream
upon.
Napolis Oct 2018
In the
birth of
the morning
light,

I would hold
your smile
with all
of my might,

all of my cards
of life and
fairy tail
dreams
on the table.

for you
to turn
over as
you wish.

I offer
to you
my scars to
heal,

and I can
see that
in your
eyes.

that forever
begins with
this moment
now,

your laughter
like
sunlight
as it falls
over me.

and I
am warm
I am
vulnerable
to you,

and for the
first time
in a long
time.

I have
so many
questions
of myself.

of this
first meeting
this first
hello.

and Santa Barbara
is in your
eyes,

and now it
is there
that I
forever want
to be.
Napolis Oct 2018
To look
at you

is catching
a glimpse
of paradise
in a
bottle,

and then
to drink
it dry
in a single
swirl.

the sharp
angles
of your
face,

defining
me with
a turn
of your
head.

and I
always
trust
your smile,

like falling
from
the sky
without
wings.

I know
you will
always
be there.

to rise
me up
to see
your face
again.

in this
paradise
of a
moment
with you.

that a
life is
built
upon.

and  between  
a blink
of your
eyes,

I fall
again.
Napolis Sep 2018
Today I
found a
part of
my destiny
waiting..

We talked
in the
arrowhead isle,
then stumbled
over to
the pickle
jar isle,

sharing
stories of
Jack Daniels
and runaway
Volkswagen
van romances
from a thousand
lifetimes
ago.

we laughed
like elementary
school children
who were
sharing lunch
out on
a school
yard playground
devouring the
best and
the sweetest
treats.

far away
from the
other children
who I
never
wanted to
share your
smile with.

I gave you
two flowers
that seemed
like they were
25 years
or so late.

we told
each other
of our
husbands and
our wives
and the blessings
our children
have become.

and some
how for a
awkward
moment they
all seemed
to be ours.

a totally
beyond immaculate
conception.

and as
you stood
in front of
me,

your eyes
were sea night
blue,

and your hair
was a
windy sand
blonde.

and suddenly
all I wanted
to do
today is
stand there and
shop with
you.

and hear
your stories
and enjoy
your laughter
and dance
in your
dreams.


and pretend
that a
part of
you

for a moment

was mine.
She wanted to be young and in warm weather
Me too
So California here we came
Sure we were gonna stay
What’s not to like?
All we needed to do was meet
Then came the night
A double date it was
Only she was with him
Barbara was her name
By the time it was over
I got her number
From then on she had mine
Inseparable we became
Forever entwined
On our third date I told her
I would marry her
She gave me an ingratiating smile
We were both sure
And here we are today
True indeed.
Have you ever felt that in living
You had failed in some irredeemable
Way  Clinging to  some fundamental
Failure of body and soul-Blame God
That you have not been loved by the
One you loved with all your heart and
Still were not worthy.  Blame God.an'
Die  For He made you and in the end


You are God's failure too It is He who
Abandoned me He must not be left
Uncharged nor can He be denied justice
If He is accused He must be tried for
His crimes against humanity before
He can be sentenced to be abandoned
Too
An abandoned soul an abandoned God
God its His choice at the end of the
Road we will travel together as One
The Way of knowing Love 'n joy; or not
Knowing why we live at all.  I do not
Know if I should curse God and die or
Why I should not. if you  see me 'n not
Help me  in the troubles that drag me
To the grave with  no one I loved caring
And the One who could -doing nothing to
Change things but gave me these words 
I am telling Him I am sorry but it is how I
Feel and how He left me feeling alone,
If I speak wrongly I stand as Job and say to
God I spoke as I did because I knew not.



For Barbara My wife who first led me to Job's story
It  was Job's wife who tired of his lamenting unrelenting
tribulations  told him to: "Curse God and die"  May she
Be in Heaven where as Jesus told us none do marry...
There still we Love as we did en our better dreams
n
Bruce Levine Aug 2018
Upper East Side
The Hamptons
Aspen, Colorado
The plastic people
Follow each other
Moving in herds
Like cattle to the
Slaughter

Drifting
Floating
Shifting focus
From one charity event
To another
Whatever’s trendy
Whatever’s fashionable
Whatever’s happ’ning
Whatever’s the need
Tainted new artists
Society’s rejects
The film-maker who fits in with
The flavor of the month
The disease or the cause
That captures the moment
Stigmas overlooked
Deformities relieved
By one hyper exertion
By one pseudo good deed

Changing bedrooms
Changing partners
New alliances
Noblesse oblige

Mrs. Astor’s
Four hundred
Reinvented forever
Reinvented with fervor
On the edge
Of hypocrisy
Keeping up with the Jones’s
Maintaining the houses
Paris, Rome, Cote du Jura
Malibu, Palm Beach
Couture fashion
Madison, Rodeo
Worth avenues united
Avenues of the liege

Location, location, location
The right address unspoken
Dinner in the right places
Sporting events to be seen
Three martini luncheons
Halcion evenings
Business is business
Where money’s retrieved

Look to plastic people
For fashionable guidance
No matter the moment
No matter the need
Remember to catch them
While jetting to Santa Barbara
Saint Maarten, San Troupe
San Marco, warp speed
They live in their milieu
Can’t function outside it
Can’t follow a shadow
That others believe

It’s easy to find them
They leave behind footprints
But barely a mem’ry
Or singular creed
Other than finding
The latest in fashion
The latest persona
Or new plastic breed
Donall Dempsey Jul 2018
I NEVER HAS SEEN SNOW

I lived my life as if
I had been written
into a Barbara Pym novel

so prim and proper lady I
my soul smoother'd in camphor
yet my life...wot the mot hath got

and here I be
curled upon the Persian rug
in the foetal position

being born
into my dying
as it were

me an elaborate motif
beside an exquisite phoenix
oh the warp and woof of me

so this is death
rather nice
as these things go

not too much( ouch )pain
more easeful and slow and
when ya gotta go...ya...gotta go

rather like that Manx man
was it Brown...or...something
"...if thou couldst empty..." oh what is it?

"...all thy self of self
to be a shell dishabited..."
bit like ha ha that...innit( agghh )

wonder what an anthropologist
from...say...Borneo
would make of me

I'd guess I'd be
so quaintly ever so English
so cue-cumber sandwich

settling down with a Pimms and a Pym
being one of those Excellent Women
**** this dying....haven't even read the book

only got as far as
p.15...how mean
the great unread

the words sticking in my brain
something being "...a welcoming
sort of place...

with a bright entrance..."
as if Mr. Death were saying
"Why...that's what I am!"

"Yeah, yeah...sure sure'"
I answer all Film Noir
another of life's little pleasures

the stuffed bird
stares at me sternly
deigns to speak

"Now that you are going to be
as dead as me...may I
have a word?"

it coughs unaccustomed
as it is
to public speech

"It's not so bad
being dead
it's being stuffed that hurts!"

the cat joins in
with its customary "I'm starving...
ya couldn't open this tin?"

now the cat howls
oh to have opposable thumbs
or a can opener at least

the stuffed bird and the cat and I
singing along to Beverly Kenny
smiling from the record sleeve

"Oh this used to be
my favourite as a girl
'I Never Has Seen Snow."

"Oh the girl I used to be
she ain't me no more!"
I could always carry a tune

the stuffed bird can't
sing for nuts but
the cat's got a good tenor voice

me...I'm letting go
the world is walking out on me
the world don't want to know me no more

I've even forget
can you Adam and Eve it
how to spell... fo'c's'le

my garden looks in
the window at me
well here's a howdy do

I never was '...a lovesome thing..."
even when young
"God wot!"

hee hee hee T.E. Brown
appears to invade the mind
when one is dying

and what would that Borneo
anthropologist make of that
or my love of Jazz

grabbing the music
by the tail as it shape-shifts
improvises world upon world and beyond

oh to be dying
in a smokey jazz club
thoughts climbing a spiral staircase of smoke

"All that is...is not!"
now I wonder where
I got ha ha that

would the man from Borneo know
that is Phil Woods on
the Quincey Jones arrangement

"Oh I love sax me!
never could say the same
for ***

well - enough of that
better get on with
my death

and what better way to go
than with Beverly singing low
always thought I looked a bit like her

she smiles that record sleeve smile
the one I tried to sculpt
upon my own features

"I saw a new horizon
and a road to take me
where I wanted to be...needed to be.... took"

"God! I'm only starving!" yowls the cat
"Ya couldn't feed me before ya go...no
**** those...**** those cans!"

"Oh ****...oh ****!" she purrs
the record's...the record's...the record's
stuck
INDWELLING

If thou couldst empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the Ocean shelf,
And say — "This is not dead," —
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou,
And hast such shrewd activity,
That, when He comes, He says — "This is enow
Unto itself — 'Twere better let it be:
It is so small and full, there is no room for Me."

T.E. BROWN

I Never Has Seen Snow Lyrics
I NEVER HAS SEEN SNOW

done lost my ugly spell
I am cheerful now
Got the warm all overs a-smoothin' my worried brow
Oh, the girl I used to be
She ain't me no more
I closed the door on the girl I was before
Feeling fine and full of bliss
What I really wants to say is this

I never has seen snow
All the same I know
Snow ain't so beautiful
Cain't be so beautiful
Like my love is
Like my love is

Nothing do compare
Nothing anywhere with my love
A hundred things I see
A twilight sky that's free
But none so beautiful
Not one so beautiful
Like my love is
Like my love is
Once you see his face
None can take the place of my love

A stone rolled off my heart
When I laid my eyes on
That near to me boy with that far away look
And right from the start
I saw a new horizon
And a road to take me where I wanted to be took
Needed to be took
And though
I never has seen snow
All the same I know
Nothing will ever be
Nothing can ever be
Beautiful as my love is
Like my love is to me

Harold Arlen/Truman Capote

from THE HOUSE OF FLOWERS musical

MY GARDEN

A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot—
The veriest school
Of peace ; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not—
Not God ! in gardens ! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
‘Tis very sure God walks in mine.

T. E. BROWN

She used to sing along to the Quincey Jones arrangement with Phil Wood featuring....yea he of that famous alto sax solo on Billy Joel's JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.

Beverly Kenny is now more remembered for her I Hate Rock 'n' Roll but was a young  up and coming singer who died too early by her own hand.

My lady in the poem did indeed look very much like her and one was often disconcerted by a record sleeve looking back at one with my lady's young face. I never cared for her much except for her version of I Never Has Seen Snow. Curiously the Japanese to this day adore her. I was more of a Julie London man don't ya know.

The rather excellent Barbara Pym was another stand by or go to...EXCELLENT WOMEN was her second book and on p.15 there indeed occurs the line...

"A vicarage ought to be a welcoming sort of place with a bright entrance."

She was Philip Larkin's favourite novelist.

My lady was the very model of a modern curmudgeon and not everyone could stand her but I got on well with her seeing as I knew both Brown and Pym and could sing along to I NEVER HAS SEEN SNOW.

fo'c's'le was necessary to complete a crossword and she was getting very cross at not being able all of a sudden to spell it.

The forecastle (abbreviated fo'c'sle or fo'c's'le)is the upper deck of a sailing ship forward of the foremast, or the forward part of a ship with the sailors' living quarters. Related to the latter meaning is the phrase "before the mast" which denotes anything related to ordinary sailors, as opposed to a ship's officers
Bob B Jan 1
Twenty eighteen has come and gone,
And all I can say is, What a year!
That twenty nineteen will also be
Just as crazy is crystal clear.

Mass shootings once again
Shook the country, taking a toll
On all of us, and yet very little
Has been done about gun control.

Always the center of controversies,
Trump again tried to assuage
The public by pleading ignorance
When Stormy Daniels took center stage.

Then we learned that Trump had paid
Hush money to flings at least TWICE
In hopes to secure his chances of winning
The twenty sixteen election. How nice!

A lot of Trump's team have left
Through the admin's revolving door,
Always mired in controversy.
There are bound to be many more.

Trump has proved he loves his tyrants
More than he loves our allies and friends.
Ignoring advice from experts, he'll do
Whatever Putin recommends.

Hurricanes caused major flooding;
California was ravaged by fires.
Yet dire warnings go unheeded
By stalwart climate change deniers.

The separation of families seeking
Asylum showed a callous side
Of Trump and his team, whose inhumane
Actions cannot be denied.

Year two of investigations…
Manafort, Gates, Cohen, and Flynn
Are talking more, while the walls
Around Donald Trump are closing in.

Meanwhile Trump continues to lie.
There's no end to his subterfuge.
How many lies? Eight thousand?
And Giuliani plays his stooge.

Kavanagh got a Supreme Court seat
After a sham investigation,
Which shows how Trump maintains the belief:
What's good for Trump is good for the nation.

November saw a welcome blue wave
Sweep through the House. Such a delight!
This should end Nunes' obstruction
Of justice. There will be oversight!

We lost three prominent people:
Barbara and George Bush and McCain.
Very few members of
The old Republican guard remain.

Trump cannot stop harping on
His WALL--a waste of money and time.
With our crumbling infrastructure,
Building his "wall" would be a crime.

What will the New Year bring forth?
Perhaps an indictment? Perhaps an arraignment?
Since Trump loves to be the star,
THAT'S what I'd call entertainment!

-by Bob B (1-1-19)
I NEVER HAS SEEN SNOW

I lived my life as if
I had been written
into a Barbara Pym novel

so prim and proper lady I
my soul smoother'd in camphor
yet my life...wot the mot hath got

and here I be
curled upon the Persian rug
in the foetal position

being born
into my dying
as it were

me an elaborate motif
beside an exquisite phoenix
oh the warp and woof of me

so this is death
rather nice
as these things go

not too much( ouch )pain
more easeful and slow and
when ya gotta go...ya...gotta go

rather like that Manx man
was it Brown...or...something
"...if thou couldst empty..." oh what is it?

"...all thy self of self
to be a shell dishabited..."
bit like ha ha that...innit( agghh )

wonder what an anthropologist
from...say...Borneo
would make of me

I'd guess I'd be
so quaintly ever so English
so cue-cumber sandwich

settling down with a Pimms and a Pym
being one of those Excellent Women
**** this dying....haven't even read the book

only got as far as
p.15...how mean
the great unread

the words sticking in my brain
something being "...a welcoming
sort of place...

with a bright entrance..."
as if Mr. Death were saying
"Why...that's what I am!"

"Yeah, yeah...sure sure'"
I answer all Film Noir
another of life's little pleasures

the stuffed bird
stares at me sternly
deigns to speak

"Now that you are going to be
as dead as me...may I
have a word?"

it coughs unaccustomed
as it is
to public speech

"It's not so bad
being dead
it's being stuffed that hurts!"

the cat joins in
with its customary "I'm starving...
ya couldn't open this tin?"

now the cat howls
oh to have opposable thumbs
or a can opener at least

the stuffed bird and the cat and I
singing along to Beverly Kenny
smiling from the record sleeve

"Oh this used to be
my favourite as a girl
'I Never Has Seen Snow."

"Oh the girl I used to be
she ain't me no more!"
I could always carry a tune

the stuffed bird can't
sing for nuts but
the cat's got a good tenor voice

me...I'm letting go
the world is walking out on me
the world don't want to know me no more

I've even forget
can you Adam and Eve it
how to spell... fo'c's'le

my garden looks in
the window at me
well here's a howdy do

I never was '...a lovesome thing..."
even when young
"God wot!"

hee hee hee T.E. Brown
appears to invade the mind
when one is dying

and what would that Borneo
anthropologist make of that
or my love of Jazz

grabbing the music
by the tail as it shape-shifts
improvises world upon world and beyond

oh to be dying
in a smokey jazz club
thoughts climbing a spiral staircase of smoke

"All that is...is not!"
now I wonder where
I got ha ha that

would the man from Borneo know
that is Phil Woods on
the Quincey Jones arrangement

"Oh I love sax me!
never could say the same
for ***

well - enough of that
better get on with
my death

and what better way to go
than with Beverly singing low
always thought I looked a bit like her

she smiles that record sleeve smile
the one I tried to sculpt
upon my own features

"I saw a new horizon
and a road to take me
where I wanted to be...needed to be.... took"

"God! I'm only starving!" yowls the cat
"Ya couldn't feed me before ya go...no
**** those...**** those cans!"

"Oh ****...oh ****!" she purrs
the record's...the record's...the record's
stuck
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
Waiting Room.
                            
                               It seemed as though I could
                               be there quite a while and
                               in anticipation, I began to write.

                               A poem would have been far
                               too short, unless that is, it
                               was something like, Ryme
                               Of The Ancient Mariner  or
                               Barbara Freitche.

                               Just then I heard a voice,
                               Ryan, you are always punctual
                               but you are a day early, your
                               appointment is not until tomorrow ' !
El pintor de palabras se recostó con su café
En el viejo y maltratado sillón de color burdeos.
Deseó estar bebiendo borgoña
En una silla de color café, pero los mendigos no pueden elegir.

Ser un pintor de palabras no es tan lucrativo como lo era en el pasado.
Sin embargo, en el lado positivo del libro mayor, nadie era probable
Para pedirle que nade el Hellespont
y arriesgar su vida por la independencia griega.

¿Qué, entonces, debería escribir hoy?
Pensó en ella que una vez había usado su anillo.
Pensó en una niña encantadora, bronceada
Con mechones ***** azabache
y ojos latinos vivos.

Extraño, no había pensado en ella en bastante tiempo.
Bueno, pensó, después de todo, hoy es su cumpleaños.
“Feliz cumpleaños a mi querida Barbara Jeanne.

Me enseñaste lecciones de amor y pérdida
y me dejó con solo el toque de un poeta.
Feliz cumpleaños a una mujer maravillosa que era demasiado joven para apreciar realmente.
Napolis Oct 2018
Your laughter
beckons me
like a call
of the wind
to a distant
ocean cloud,

it moves
me to
laughter
as well
and for
a moment
we are
one.

and it
is warm
and soft
and stirs
my dreams
to wander.

all in
this moments
passing,

and then
it is
gone,

and the
sky is
empty
again.

but then
the morning
comes..

at first
light the
sun hurries
to find
your eyes,

the wind
rushes to
touch
your face,

and I
hope to
catch your
smile
somewhere
in your
busy day.

if only
for a moment
that seems
to embrace
eternity,

something that
I cannot
forget,
but cherish.

and dream
upon,

and I
am always
the better
for it.

and though
you might
hardly
notice

I am
grateful
for the
moment.

a single
moment

of you.

— The End —