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Foxgopher Nov 2015
Wow, what even is this?
Terrible, terrible.
Why do you even bother, it’s no good
Thanks, now get out.
I admit I’m not the next Frost
I may not even be the next anyone.
So, without further ado, I’m sorry.
I apologize.
I’m sorry Blake, Burns, Wordsworth.
I’m sorry Poe, Frost, Ginsburg.
I’m sorry Plath, Petersen, Bremer.
I’m sorry Church, Winter, Dychkowski.
I don’t measure up, I don’t even rhyme
Selfishness is my reason for this
Feelings on paper and thoughts in obscurity
All written without form, no scheme
Is it real if it doesn’t make sense?
I’m not stopping, no, I’ll persevere
But I offer up these apologies to those who are poets
Somehow I got labeled with you
Somehow I ended up here.
Poetry. My one stay. An escape I can always turn to.
I’m sorry.
My apologies.
Forgive my excuse.
Annie Feb 2019
Fearing the suns final eclipse,
men turn the night to day
but anguish also narrows wits
and scares foresight away
little wisdom stays
to the panicked men
the hunter hunts
the victim flees
and dread does still remain

Chorus:
Three things can´t be trusted
In the fright that walks the night
The oath of men, the fire’s light
And the sounds of hidden life

Little does the darkness care
About the stranger’s dread
Like dancing shadows in the flame
The restless feelings spread
The blades and armors shining bright
and blinds the fighters eye
And in the dark
The shadows waits
To hunt the hunters pride

Chorus:
Three things are deceiving
In the light of lanterns spark
The strenght of blades, the might of men
And a gleaming in the dark

A voice wails from the shadows deep
Out of the towering trees
And like a hunted animal
The fighters boltness flees
The howling sound like hunting horns
Fills heart and bones with fear
And  in the dark
The glistening eyes
Are glaring bright and clear

Chorus:
Three things are most perilious
The dread that walks the night
The wicked howl that warns you
And the eyes that shine too bright

The warriors cried and ran away
and turned around no more
And spared no thought in silence
What they were panicked for
And as the soldiers fled away
The monstrous beast draws near
A cat, a dog, a donkey
and a rooster does appear

Chorus:
Three things never change its kind
under the darkness ban
The sounds, the eyes and shadows
That fear any armored man
Fun lyrics to the song 'Threes' by Mercedes Lackey.
JB Claywell Nov 2019
A lot of people look familiar.

At this point I think
that I might have seen
everyone in town at least once.

I know a lot of people too.
However,
I feel like very few people know me.
I like it that way.

I’m pretty open
in regard to myself and my life.
It is, after all, what makes its way
into my art.

How could I be a good storyteller
if I didn’t tell true stories?  

Still, I tend to keep to myself
more often than not.

My small family is all I need;
all I really want.

I do whatever I am able
to make sure that everything I do
means something to someone.
Sometimes it’s just me.

Cooper taught me to look at friendship through a different prism.
He showed me how to find
different significance
in the way the lights and colors
moved through
the time and space that had been allotted
them in any given moment.

I’m supposed to be able to see the importance of a single moment;
to see the history
while it’s still the present
and
to live in the moment
all while saving it for posterity.

Time travel is possible if you show your friends enough love.

Morrison and I spoke of
the aforementioned
at great length
the last time we were together.

I recounted times when I used to believe
that the only friends I had,
the only true friends I had,
were those people who would
regularly interrupt my sleep schedule
in the name of adventure,
overflow my ashtrays,
empty my refrigerator
all while turning that night
into the next day.

Everything served over-easy,
greasy with butter,
and
spiced with Tabasco sauce.

Our friendships were and are real enough,
but indigestion,
Insomnia,
omnipresence?

The requirements of my youth
are overworked
and simply incorrect.

A real friend can be quietly encouraging,
or someone who leaves you alone
for weeks at a time.
Remaining ready,
diligently able to resume
at a moment’s notice.
Picking up where you left off
like only seconds had passed.

I’ve talked this talk,
with and about
Cooper,
Clark,
Morrison,
Otto,
Mulvaney,
Nelson,
Christy,
and
Bremer.

Some of these,
I see once or twice a week,
others once or twice a year.

We love one another nonetheless.
We are friends after all.

This.

The very essence
of this line of thinking
is what fosters the kinds of interpersonal relationships
all human beings long for,
should strive for.
It is the definition that is listed
in the dictionary of my heart.

It is the manifesto
that Cooper laid out before me
at 4 o’clock in the morning.

We were at Denny’s having breakfast.
The eggs were runny.
The hash browns were covered in queso,
gravy,
or both.

Because we all have to die sometime.
Why not surround ourselves with
friends?  

*
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
for my friends.

— The End —