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Alan McClure Nov 2011
No tribal scarring marks your face
no cinder walk or thorn-pierced tongue
to prove you are no longer young
but fit to take your rightful place

Your generation never fought
And you have wished that you could see
the selfless, brave camaraderie
of which you were so often taught

Alas for you to fetch ashore
when we had lost our appetite
for making children go and fight
and briefly grieved, and said "No more!"

Condemning you, unreconciled,
to shed no blood, as real men should;
to feel that life is mostly good
Oh foolish knave!  Oh hopeless child!

And saddled with this gross mistake
your quiet kindness gently spread
and harmless fascinations fed
and left no corpses in their wake

To think we looked to one unmanned
as children, hungry for a clue
of what it's right for men to do,
led, blind,  by your unbloodied hand

Sought thoughts from one who could not brag
of marching forth to suicide
for waxed moustaches' sense of pride
Nor bleeding dry beneath a flag

But you had naught to tell us, save
that life is hopeful and sublime
and we should use this precious time
And I'll be grateful to the grave.
Jeff Gaines Jul 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback. I will be building my Author page tonight (12/21/2018) and my website finished first thing Monday!

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
Jeff Gaines Jun 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback. I will be building my Author page tonight (12/21/2018) and my website finished first thing Monday!

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2023
Everything is BIG here.

Meals are big, bums are big, cars are huge and the skies are a million miles wide.

Janet and I are travelling in the Northwest of the United States of America, spending time with Boaz and Lisa in Idaho, Steve Yocum in Oregon and Greg and Linda in Washington State.

The trip is a "quickie" in that we are fitting one helluva lot into just three weeks duration.
Never in all my days have I seen such huge quantities of food served up in restaurant meals, plastic bags discarded, American flags fluttering and all the young, blonde girls in tattered, impossibly short cut offs and sleeveless tops talking loudly, incomprehensibly at a million miles an hour ......Just blows you away!!
Monstrous pickup trucks, Rams, Broncos, big V8s travelling the freeways continuously. Sheriffs, troopers and Road cops all wearing firearms on the hip, in their souped up pursuit vehicles parked on the roadside shoulder, eyeballing everyone as they pass, with a mean, accusatory glare.
Out on the range there is a million square miles of nothing but sage brush and basalt rock....and searing, baking heat.
114 degrees in the painted desert of Moab. Beautiful though with vaulting red sandstone cliffs and rearing stone arches against the blue-est of blue skies.
Standing pillars of ancient sedimentary rock born in depositions laid down in vast oceans of bygone eras, millions of years ago.

History is painted vast in this immensity. The gigantic and abrupt catastrophic inundation of a vast and deep inland sea, swelled suddenly by floodwaters of rivers diverted by lava flows from subterranean fissures....Unimaginable torrents abruptly released, gouging out ancient lava beds to create gigantic waterfalls and deep, sheer sided chasms.

Cascades that constituted the biggest river flow ever known in the history of the planet, washing away everything from the epicentre of the continent in Utah through Idaho to the Pacific ocean in the rugged coast of Oregon. Such was the Bonneville flood of 12,000 years ago illustrated today by the gigantic chasms created in the beds of basalt and rhyolitic larva throughout Idaho and the fields of massive, round, house sized boulders strewn from the floods origin near what is now, Salt Lake City in Utah to the coast in Oregon, a thousand kilometers away.

The two weeks stay with Boaz and Lisa just disappeared in a flash. They took us down to Moab painted desert, Zion National park, the Craters of the Moon, Monument National Park and up to Stanley and the Sawtooth mountains by the mighty Salmon river. Janet and I took advantage of a couple of push bikes hanging in the garage and spent most days cycling the local trails and visiting Starbucks for a celebratory cappuccino or two....Those bikes saved our bacon, walking trails in that heat was ******. Great hospitality enjoyed here. watched reruns of Sopranos on Boaz's 70 " SmartScreen TV and enjoyed Arnie's escape from postwar Austria to Mr Universe and fame and fortune @ Hollywood with Boaz whilst enjoying chilled margaritas in the hot tub.

The camaraderie of meeting an old mate of 45 years past, Steve Yocum of Oregon  a fellow writer and author. Both of us intent on shooting the breeze, putting the world to right. In some ways a sad exercise in that no longer can either of us make things right for with age upon us, neither has influence. We can huff n puff n blow the house down....but it seems, nobody pays the slightest bit of attention. The penalty of age is invisibility. The relief in it all is that, really, nobody actually gives a hoot!

Just two Old Dogs letting off steam..... it's rather cathartic actually! Thanks to Stevo, Ian and lovely Heidi for the accommodation, great hospitality and warmth.

The cool atmospheric relief of the serene and calm, Puget Sound in Seattle, Washington state gave welcome respite from the intense heat of the interior and the serenity of our cottage accommodations and startlingly beautiful garden surrounds. A forest of conifers and deciduous trees harboured gardens of blooming roses, hollyhocks and multihued cone flowers, emerald lawns carve swarths of sunlight in avenues of deep, green shade....a delight for the sunburnt brows of yesterday's heat.
Woken by the bassoon blast of the passing early morning ferry out in the waterway, to stroll out to sit at the very edge of the sandy, pebble beach and gentle surge of the deep, clear saline waters of the magnificent Puget Sound.
The peace of early morning crisp cool air, a seascape of moored fishing boats on mirrored waters, the distant Olympic range rearing to its' full 7,000 ft against a powder blue sky left us quite breathless with the utter beauty of it all....add to that a lovely breakfast offering of fresh berries, kiwifruit slices and yogurt and a chilled glass of fresh squeezed orange juice...and we absolutely, couldn't want for anything more. To Greg and Linda our love and thanks for giving up your beautiful bed, travelling us around beautiful Seattle and being our airline coach to and from Portland. We shall return the warm hospitality next time you hit NZ and Taranaki.

Vulcanism has dominated the terrain in Idaho, Montana, and Utah. Continental drift westward of the land mass has brought about a steady transference eastward of the massive geothermal hot spot which currently lies in Yellowstone park and which is the source of all volcanic activity within the park..
Idaho, in ancient times, wore the volcanic mantle of the region in having truly gigantic rhyolitic ash and magmatic eruptions. These cataclysmic eruptions emptied deep cavernous, subterranean magma chambers which collapsed under their own weight leaving vast circular calderas in the landscape. Subsequent plate tectonic activity caused deep faulting allowing huge flows of sticky magma to surge to the surface like searing hot black toothpaste, spreading across the plains obliterating all evidence of the rhyolite caulderas, surfacing the state, to this day, with millions of acres of hard black basaltic rock.
Here and there, rhyolite has wormed its way to the surface building gigantic domes, over the centuries these have weathered leaving statuesque, dramatic flat-topped mesa scattered across the landscape.
Altogether a truly unique and enthralling terrain for visitors to behold and one which reveals a dramatic insight to the volcanic and tectonic violence of the recent past and gives a definite air of mystique to the beholder.

In a land of 360 million people, supermarkets are downright huge...and they contain the spoils of the nation's plenty.
Acres of dazzling variety... and cheap by international standards. The very best of prime beefsteak, sides of pork, Alaskan cod freshly caught and displayed in rows of chilled enticing exhibit. Every possible vegetable and fresh picked fruit known to man in piled pyramids of brilliant, colourful display. Beautiful ornate furniture, beds, mattresses, tiers of car tyres of every conceivable brand and size, wheelbarrows, fertilizer, fresh flowers in mountainous display, ***** in barnlike chillers. Supermarket trolleys for giants..... and gird yourself for a marathon hike in collecting your basket of groceries...and give yourself half a day....you'll need it!

America has momentum, huge momentum. Across vast tracts of country lie networks of highway. Multilane concrete that tracks mile after mile carrying huge trucks with 40 tonne loads. Incessant trucks, one after another,  thundering along carrying the lifeblood of America, merchandise,  machinery, infrastructure, steel, timber and technology. Gigantic mobile freezers hauling food from the grower to the markets. Hauling excavators, harvesters,  bulldozers and giant Agricultural tractors. Night and day this massive source of production careers across the nation transporting the promise of America, the momentum which drives the Stars and Stripes onward, ever onward.

On the margins of the cities of Portland and Salem the unhoused gathered in squalid tent communities. In the beautiful city of Seattle I saw many down and out unshaven, untidy individuals with hopelessness in their eyes, pushing supermarket trolleys containing their sparse possessions. I drove through rural communities, some of which, reflected hardship and an air of despair. Run down dwellings in need of maintenance and repair, derelict rusty vehicles adorning the **** strewn frontages.
Not 20 kilometers away in Ketchum and Sun Valley Idaho the homes were palatial in grounds tended by gardeners and viticulturalists. Porsches and Range Rovers graced the ornate, rusticated porticoes. Wealth and privilege in evidence in every nuanced nook and cranny.
America is, indeed, a land of contrasts, a land of wealth, privilege, and plenty..... and yet a land that, somehow, tolerates and abides a fragile paucity which emblazons itself, embarrassingly, within the national profile.

On a hot day in Twin Falls, Idaho, I walked into a huge air-conditioned sporting goods store specifically to look at guns....and in the long glass cases there were hundreds of them. From snub nosed revolvers to Glocks, 38s, 45 caliber even western style Colt 45s and the ***** Harry Magnum with the long, blue gun barrel and classic, prominent foresight.
In the racks behind the counter are hung fully and semi-automatic rifles of myriad types...all available for sale providing the buyer has appropriate licensing.
In a land where mass shootings proliferate weekly, I ask myself....does this availability of lethal weaponry make sense?

The aching beauty of the mountain country in Northern Idaho, Oregon and Washington state cannot be overstated. The Sawtooth mountains, the Cascades, Mt Ranier, Mt Hood and the Olympic range. Ridgelines of towering conifers as far as the eye can see, waves of green deciduous running down to soft grassy clearings with boulder strewn, rushing streams and the cascade of plunging waterfalls. The magnificence of the natural beauty of this rugged, heavily timbered mountain country just defies description being far, far isolated from the attentions of man.

To happen upon this country from the far distant reaches of the South Pacific is a culture shock, to be suddenly exposed to the extreme largess. It is difficult to calibrate, hard to encompass, impossible to assimilate....but the people encountered warmed us with their generosity of spirit, their willingness to welcome travelling strangers into their homes....and, of course the invaluable time we spent with our family….and for these factors alone together with the huge magnificence that is this........
GRAND AMERICA.
We are truly, truly grateful.

Janet & Marshal
Foxglove@Taranaki.NZ
Kurt Carman Sep 2016
Dear Alex,

I listened to President Obama read the letter you wrote today,
To an unfortunate little boy from Aleppo, and how you’d like to be his protege.
In preparation for his visit, you would gather all you’re most precious possessions,
Offering to him love, friendship and a gift called freedom of expression.

You would teach him and he would share his world with you,
A bonding camaraderie colored in Red, White and Blue.
You my friend, have a heart of gold like a treasure untold,
Because showing love to others…..is a longing in your soul.

Thanks you Alex!
I read this amazing letter by 6 year old named Alex. I hope you'll take a minute to read it.  http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/6-year-old-sends-obama-inspiring-message-about-syrian-refugee-n652641
By losing our friendship
I lost a million things.
 
The love, the care
Is found nowhere
I think we both
Were wrong
Somewhere
 
For I have seen
Your darkest sin
The vulnerability
The grin
A broken soul
That can’t be repaired
 
Together we smiled,
We laughed, we whined
Our bond was
Undoubtedly rare
 
My heart, your home
Your betrayal, unknown
I mourned beyond
Repair.
 
Though I was told
That I am not alone
There are so many
Involved in this
Affair...
 
You left the spot
Without a doubt
What did I do
To deserve this
In my share?
 
But there you are
Sitting apart
Making me drench
in tear..
 
You said you will call
I was about to fall
in the web of your
Despair.
 
You cared a ****
I sulked I crammed
But I think you
Were always unfair!
Jeff Gaines Feb 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
The original title of this poem was "Sentient". After learning the meaning and concept of "Sonder", I found it was a far and away better title.

~SONDER - n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/sonder
Sienna Luna Jan 2016
when i think of you
i get all warm and tingly
it’s a sensation
i don’t want to part with
quite yet
and i see versions of you everywhere i go
in clouds
in comics
in places unexpected
and i wonder where that text will bring me
and i wonder if we’ll become closer as friends
and i wonder why i see your face sculpted
by mountain ranges in the distance while driving
the sun setting in its palate of periwinkle
trickling into darkness
your handsome body somehow capturing my interest
and i wonder if i can become a wild explorer
trampling through wind and soot and rain and snow
to finally discover the comrade I was looking for.
fallinginlove hope love driving sunset friends clouds exploration naturalelements nature mountians comics
Jennifer Feb 2016
A camaraderie that was too hard to forget,

But too easy to vanish.

Be safe, my friend.
Dedicated to a friend who has travelled across the world to fulfill dreams, explore oneself and amass new vistas of thoughts, perspectives and experiences.
Aisling O' L Nov 2013
We share blood you and I,
and have shared
golden pocketed memories, sticky ice-creamed fingers
back seats,smelly packs of cheese and onions crisps
and jokes about the two in the front arguing over directions,money- us.
Yet we couldn't be more polarized,
Your a young soul but your older,
you used to whisper scandalous grown -up things
and I  would swallow your information as gospel.
Under sapphire skies,
I'd follow you around just wanting your attention
and I know now how annoying it must have been
to have a whiny little sister wanting you to play Barbies.
And I won't lie,
I love you most days and hate you the rest
for all those times you'd beat me up(really just a punch)
and pronounce  me the Loch-ness monster and call me  fat.
It'll always be Love/Hate with you and I
I'm the chalk and your the cheese
but you make me laugh until my sides ache
and I know you love telling me the news of your latest exploit.
There's a camaraderie well that implied,
I've got your back and you've got mine.
we table tennis tease but we both draw a line
and we won't cross it.
because we share blood you and I,
despite nurture over nature
or blood is thicker than water
know this big brother
I love you as a person.
R J Apr 2013
The routine sun rose

Sinking thinking
A swollen scene of city wonder
Small color blunders bleed the jungle dry
But I try
And that's something the camaraderie sighs at
But still with that fact,
I go.

Faux lives carriage by
Made of paper, made of dimes
Teenage crimes can supply felicity

IN public SIMPLICITY.

Omit apperception moreover audition:
Copy and paste the taste you had when you were young and drag it to oblivion.

for the eventual:
the sensual isn't essential
Erica Sooter Dec 2012
If I could get on a plane right now, I would.
Leave everyone and everything behind;
making my own destiny
from the wings in the sky.
I want to prove you all wrong
I want to prove myself wrong.
Overcoming complexes born into me.
My fight is hard
but i do not want to be
what genetics and family history
tell me I will be.
I'm going to break that trend
change my name
change my game
I'm going to rewrite this story.
Honesty.
That's what drives me to be
I want to hear truths,
not sugar-coated compliments
that make me doubt sincerity.
Why is it so hard for me to believe?
I'm gonna fly.
Airports feel like home to me
people leaving
people coming.
"Someone's last goodbye
blends in with someone's sigh"
you're either going off
or coming home.
My soul roams
looking for faces I don't know;
trying to guess their stories.
I AM good enough
I may not talk your ears off
have a hot ***
or stand out brilliantly
but I am enough.
Those who cannot see
are blind.
There will always be
the enemy
trying to bring me down.
Self-worth is my weakness
and he knows it.
But I have my armor, I have my sword
I have my cunning wit.
This war is mine.
This war is yours.
How invisible it all seems
and yet it is here
bursting from my very own seams.
Take my hand.
Do you feel the electricity
humming in my bones?
Jumping off a dock
the icy water
jolts my heart
and I feel alive.
Your hand strong in mine
run with me.
My clumsiness
causes me to trip.
Often.
Some say enduring
I say annoying.
If I had wings
then I could fly
and not trip upon uneven ground.
Stairway to freedom
to feel the wind on my face
and in my hair.
A car rushes to sunnier shores
music blasting
lungs filled with songs
as we speed down that old highway.
Camaraderie.
A family truer than my own.
I'm at home on the road
sea salt on our skin
stories by a fireside
the stars as blankets
friends as pillows.
A feeling of unconditional
love
friendship
truth.
That does not often
weave itself
into the patterns of
daily life.
Brothers and Sisters,
though not by birth
are almost of a better kind;
you have to find them
and enchant their hearts
as they do yours
with no ties of blood
keeping you together.
My space.
My place.
My spot in life
is wherever I currently stand
or sit
or sleep
or think
or love
or dream.
Here I am.
Jeff Gaines Jun 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback. I will be building my Author page tonight (12/21/2018) and my website finished first thing Monday!

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
After reading this, a friend of mine asked me if I thought I might be an Angel.
I was so taken aback, I couldn't even answer her. What on earth do you say to a question like that?


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2556726/nopohepo-the-listening-bridge/
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2010
Written in the language of the hard hats and dedicated to each and every one of us who have endured this horrible ****** Winter weather*

Rain in gouts from June till now
There's blue clay mud forever,
Orange excavators ply
With sturdy tracked endeavour.
Lakes of water, turgid brown,
Are Swirling  with the flow
Of four inch pumps in overdrive
With ****** all to show.

Streaming rainfall day by day
As dogged men press on
To concrete saw and generator's
Screaming, nearby song.
Welders, under shelter, flash
Their lurid silver light
And ghosts of reinforcing bars
Reflect like day is night.

Mightily the ironwork
Descends by crane to trench
And snaking snout of concrete pump
Disgorge their load to bench
The magic of the bentonite
Performs it's subtle dance
And the concrete locks for centuries
As thunderous skies advance.

Knee deep in the morass
With perplexed furrowed brow,
An engineer is pondering
A sticky problem he has now
How to isolate contaminants
From mud to water flow,
How to guarantee the purity
As seaward tonnes of it does go

And still the deluge thundered down
Relentlessly it poured,
Day to day and month by month
Despite the plea's implored.
Relentlessly the hard hats
Bent their sodden backs to task
And forged a mighty work of progress
.... More than anyone could ask!

Amazing the endeavor,
Just amazing how they work
How men can face adversity
And simply will not go beserk!
How bounteous camaraderie
Generates between ranks.
When the hardship is shared
And the boss smiles... thanks.

For the roof beams are settling
And those deep holes begin
The tunnel takes shape
As slanting rain whistles in
And the big trucks do loiter
To idle there for a bit,
As the loud water blasters
Clear the clogged wheels of ****.

And the public all clamoured
To wait and queue in the stall
To watch and to witness
A quite remarkable call.
For the old Birdcage tavern
On that grim cloudy day
Promptly lifted her skirts
And slowly scuttled away.

All the glue and epoxy
And the rivers of nails,
And concrete trucks queuing
As the ******* flails.
And steel by the megaton
All rusted and twitched
And worriers worrying
Till the problems are fixed.
And the augers are drilling
In a great tandem arc
And nobody knows
Where the **** they can park!!!
  
Then the bright sunshine breaks
And the smiles all appear
And the work rate accellerates
For the way is now is clear
To inter that  dear old Vic tunnel
Down deep in the sod
Then you'll hear us all chortle
"We've ****** done it ...Thank God!"


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
3 October 2010
Arindam Barooah Feb 2021
Muddled yet accountable.
Sober yet lively.
Impassive yet doting.
Mixed bag of traits
define him.
Bowlful of big hearted fondness
he carries to embrace all.
Conviviality and amiability
are his favourite words.
Pile of rendezvous,
easy reach outlook,
entangles him in a maze.
Still an apple of everyone's eye and
quite a loved soul.
Being you and always there,
with joy I proclaim,
cuddling happiness and ease.
Best of our camaraderie,
brimming with our fond memoirs
is yet to be savoured.
Attachment and affection remains,
Love, regard grows each day, to remain forever.
Blessed to have you brother, friend!!
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
met my maker

not for the first time,
two acquaintances periodical,
two boon craftsmen, artisansals,
bs-gab-talking about who is surely
the better poet, glinting, side-splitting,
raucous laughter in our dueling self-mockery


neither takes the other too serious,
but of each other, we take endless,
never satisfied, insufficient, each needier
for the rapper inside and repartee, adoring
our jiving unique camaraderie, all-the-while,
knowing our balance unequal, but not caring


for as equals we meet, to revel and reflect,
revealing things of each other that only we
know, meant not for sharing ever, for these
webbed strands binding, at same time, release,
permitting a tough honesty tally, truth not a concept,
unnecessary, for how could we ever hide our love mutuel


we sitting bestride and beside, in ye old, weather-beat-down
chairs Adirondack, having come hewn from trees centuries old,
now overlooking the Bay, we eyeing a solitary fisherman whom,
we both knowingly aware, metaphor for that day that will come
to collect me away to a new locale, where we will yet still needle
each other, with mercy unforgiving, not for our misdeeds, for never


is forgivenessasked for or given, not taboo, but
holy unnecessary for such is the way the between the
designer and the artifact, the poet and the poem, the craft
and the object, gardener and her fruits, a cellular understanding
that comprehends the interlocking necessity of our natures, that our
shared endings, are a duelity, both finale and gateway to our next poem!





https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/
10:57 AM THU JUN 29
@you-know-where

the bay has an Algonquin name, and Adirondack  is derived from an Iroquois word meaning “eater of tree bark,” a derisive term bestowed by them upon a neighboring Algonquin tribe.
You can feel...

...abandoned

abandonment

acceptance

adoration

affection

aggravated

aggravation

aggravating

agitated

aggressive

aggressiveness

alert

amazed

ambitious

amused

amusing

anger

angry

animosity

annoyed

anticipation

anxiousness

appreciative

ap­prehensive

ardent

aroused

ashamed

astonished

attraction (******)

attraction (intellectual)

attraction (spiritual)

attraction (general)

attraction (negative)

attraction  (taboo)

attraction (moral)

awed

betrayed

bewildered

bitter

bliss

blue

boastfu­l

bored

breathless

bubbly

calamitous

calm

camaraderie

caut­ious

cheerful

cocky

cold

collected

comfortable

compassionat­e

concerned

confident

confused

contempt

content

courageous
­
cowardly

crafty

cranky

crazy

cruelty

crummy

crushed

curio­us

cynic

dark

dejected

delighted

delirious

denial

detest

­depression

desire

despair

determined

devastated

disappointed

discouraged

dis­gust

disheartened

dismal

dispirited

distracted

distressed

*****

down

dreadful

dreary

eager

ecstatic

emb­arrassed

empathic

emptiness

enchanted

enigmatic

enlightened
­
enraged

enthralled

enthusiastic

envy

euphoric

excited

exha­usted

expectation

exuberance

fascinated

fear

flabbergasted

­fight-or-flight

foolish

frazzled

frustrated

fulfillment

furi­ous

gay

giddy

gleeful

gloomy

goofy

grateful

gratified

gre­edy

grief

grouchy

grudging

guilty

happy

hate

heartbroken

­homesick

hopeful

hopeless

horrified

hostile

humiliated

humored

hurt

hyper

hysterical

indignation

infatuation

infuriated

inner peace

innocent

insanity

insecure

insecure

inspired

interest

intimidated

invidious

irate

irritability

irritate­d

jaded

jealousy

joy

jubilant

kind

lazy

left out

liberated

lively

loathsome

lonely

longing

love

lovesic­k

loyal

lust

mad

mean

melancholic

mellow

mercy

merry

mil­dness

miserable

morbid

mourning

needed

needy

nervous

obsce­ne

obsessed

offended

optimistic

outraged

overwhelmed

pacifi­ed

pain

panicky

paranoia

passion

pathetic

peaceful

perturb­ation

pessimistic

petrified

pity

playful

pleased

pleasure

posses­sive

pride

provoked

proud

puzzled

rage

regretful

relief

r­emorse

resentment

resignation

resolved

sadness

satisfied

sc­ared

Schadenfreude

scorn

selfish

sensual

sensitive

****

sh­ame

sheepish

shocked

shy

sincerity

solemn

somber

sorrow

s­orry

spirited

stressed

strong

submissive

superior

surprised­

sweet

sympathetic

temperamental

tense

terrified

threatened­

thrilled

tired

tranquil

troubled

trust

tormented

uncertai­nty

uneasiness

unhappy

upset

vengeful

vicious

warm

weary

­worn-out

worried

worthless

wrathful

yearning

yawny

zesty

z­eel
You'll think of others, I still do.
Adele Aug 2014
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace

'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"

A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.

**! The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable  ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.

Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.

O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.

'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!

Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!

(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)

-A

8/11/14
I was reading some classic poems and I said to myself, I want to become one! An avant-garde kind of writer. There, I started writing something 'classic' that ends up into a fairytale lol. Funny, I tried :[
Jeff Gaines Apr 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
Tucker Freeman Jan 2013
To say the least, I am lost and confused. Lost and confused in a city that is changing. A city that is growing. And I know it is, because I can feel it is.

Some days, sometimes even several times within the same day, I want to be at the center of the action. I want to be plugged into the social pipeline. A pipeline that leads straight from and directly to the gutter.

I think I just want fun. I know I want meaning. I think I know I want camaraderie. Friendship. Love?

At some points, I feel like all of this is pointless. It drags me down and creates a groove in which I neither fight to get out of, nor have to fight to continue on in. It's resistless and easy. It's not warm or cozy, but it becomes familiar and what's to be expected.

The lines between reality and imagination are ever-increasingly blurred to me. I do not know whether these people are pretending, or trying to hide, or pretending to try and hide who they are appearing to be. Are these walls really rotting and peeling or was it painted like this to look grunge?

I can no longer determine, cliche as it may be, if art imitates reality or vice versa. Is the music these people play directly resulting from and representative of them and their lives, or are they pursuing a highly regarded, in the hep world, a less fortunate and haggard lifestyle or "scene"?

Is the music and its energy a force, a presence, a power, an entity of its own? Inhabiting the body, possessing the mind, and flowing forth from the mouth of those without an identity of their own?

I don't know who I am. I know who I am to myself, as when I'm alone. But I do not know who I am to be or who I am to others. I have always found myself being drawn to mystics, magic, and power. But this is dangerous, weird, odd, foreign stuff. This is not stuff to be dealt with lightly nor to be done out in the light. It is shameful and secret and dark.

I am afraid. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of the power I may possess, and I am afraid of the power that may possess me.
Adeoye Favour I Feb 2020
Circles of Peace,of careless abandon.
Circles of love,unadulterated agape.
Circles of sweet dreams and great intention.



Circles of brotherhood and kindred spirit
Circles of umbilical trust and faithful souls,
Circles of impactful influence
Circles,oh circles of camaraderie


Circles of joy,of gospel that gladdens,
Circles of brimful  moments,
Circles of memorable times,
Concentric Circles of fulfillment,

In the middle thereof have I pitched my tent !

© Adeoye Favour I.
@Favwrites
@Favcreatives
Life is in circles.
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
My demons come when I am weak
wounded lion spirit
hyenas scratching at my bloodied sides
fingers pushing at cracked glass soul
corpse of decayed love whisper vile insanities
once kind life voices mewling crowing
over fresh ****** wounds to new for rotten
push your grey fingers in through my split skin
fish hook tenderness as you disport in my misery
defiled by the profanity of soiled joy
black shapes flap and rattle at the thin glass
break through with the shards and pierce my soul
my heart is frozen by your lapping rising tide of eversore caresses
too late to cry for help if death comes to me in a demon's red eye
it will find a fallen spirit of light burnt by close flame falsehood
and regrets barren embraces
held in the grip of the twisted gone
it  is the crack-scabbed tomorrow that mocks my today
wounds cry tears of knife edge expectancy
arms shrink at cutting-shrine memories
God cannot stand against you but vomitting can play his role
4004  6015 numbers list your mocking horde
to late for redeemers blades
reject and defile the war cry of the un-dead
choosers of the slain cross skies of dead hope stars
No dandelion seed would stoop to carry my soul
too twisted for heaven's soil
rotted leaf shrine heat of decay warmth
no hell for demons to dwell carried within heart-carcass vessel
sail through eternities baying grief this reward
cherish fear and pain marks the hours of still alive
window of thin despair ready to crash but striving still
gossamer molecule threads still cleave to me
fight against 1916 cloying of death-sweet expectancy
shell hole camaraderie with last summers corpse gas kisses
twenty-eight pills later summer needs to come soon
at four degrees I can be water ice or gas can I be alive
Pedro Tejada Apr 2010
Give me a man
who will wrap his fingers
around my waist,
treating his life like
a flexible toothpick
to prevent my caving in
towards the stained harmony
of celibacy

and I'll provide the cure for cancer.

Provide me with a man
who will take these
drapes of solitude
hanging upon each shoulder
(all corners weighed down
by the lead of self-ambivalence)
and toss them as if they were
patches of cloudy fabric
waiting to be shooed away
like a mosquito with thoughts

and I will hide you all from
the surgical hands of Fate.

I've already wasted to null
the charm of an Annie Hall.

***** the carnal camaraderie
of the girl next dorm,
and now the last resort is
quid pro quo, world.
Quid pro quo.
wolf mother Jan 2014
betwixt by your memory
on eves of somber silhouettes
negative temperatures and mindsets

funny how i ran our love into the ground
naked promises are a shiver and a steamed mirror
camaraderie, a dying breed

broken motors and broken bones
broken silence and broken homes
broken me
Jeff Gaines Nov 2018
“I'm sorry if you miss me”
was the response, as I noted her growing distance.
I replied that she had warned me of this,
when it had begun in its first instance.

I'd like to think that I'd helped her along
from someplace dark and cold.
I enjoyed our chats, camaraderie, and banter …
it never seemed to get old.

I brought this up again as the distance grew wider
each and every day.
I told her that I was happy for her
and that she'd finally found her way.

I'd be there again, without a thought,
it was never something I'd minded.
She'd told me earlier that she was now “less needy” …
So, it's not like I was blindsided.

I know sometimes that its tough …
tough through fog to see.
I guess the thing that certainly confounds me is …
Why doesn't she miss me?
dear immoral,
              salt
seed of
    s
                              la
  ughter
enticingly, affably, salt
compassionate psychic stimulates
  the pigheaded exclamation
compassionate osculation stands
glove
                  gives callously
  equally, nonetheless, equally
quarrelsome loving glove
a persnickety longshoreman
  each persnickety biochemistry
is the
  longshoreman cancerous?
A ambiguous certification
a stupid symphony
leads a wizardry
a road worker.
                    No content,
  j
                      us
            t web,
                                  you
    r bright face
is suffered with an imagery.
Bridge operator:
                agile
                    computation
 ­         today, randomly ordinarily
ah! A
                    trembling
    je
      we
                l­er
confidant loves increasingly
  languidly, sociably, spontaneously
Look! A poor *******
perpetual on my
          quick
                              bible;
  my psychotherapy roves
into a
            bleeding seashore.
Oxygen
  tickles beautifully
boisterous, antisocial, odorous
Look! A quivering predisposition
the
          psychoanalysis's
  preferably quick
      psych
    otherapy-
how
        ebbing it is!
It has the the depression snowed ordinarily.
It repels the grin into the seashore
a
        punishing scream.
Cataclysm predicts perfectly
              stupidly sensually noncommittal
unchanging rambling cataclysm
in t
      he

                        unharnessing camaraderie
a perfect board
          overshadows
  his youth

  so
                                  that it is contemporary
grin
            quick psychotherapies
I repel quick
this punishing kennel.
The chore
into appreciated camaraderies
psychotherapies rove in it.
A ink stick:
  into appreciated ca
                mar
          aderies
psychotherapies rove in
            my own gossip.
Dogmatic, unrealistic cliff
  grip
              of firefly
realistically, subtly, cliff
Situationist
              on my quick bible;
  my paralysis roves
onto a crazy seashore.
Situationist on a
            journey;
  my
            paralysis ambles
onto a
      crazy hotel.

A equality
  onto procreation kings
paralys
          is
        amble outside of the kings.

Buzzard: omnipotent nullification
  extraordinarily, perfectly, saintly
that buzzard is ambitious
This poem was written by a computer.
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
I have a friend who plays guitar
I've worked with thousands ... but none quite like him.
His chord choices, the melodies and the riffs that he plays
They can only come from within.

He's been out living as a big rock star
But that's not quite the world that you'd think.
It's a rugged, rough struggle of perseverance and passion
And your life flashes by in a blink.

He isn't a shredder as are many these days
Never cramming notes where they don't belong.
He is tasteful and creative, a sound so original
His strings envelop the songs.

He has no need to display some arrogant plumage.
He doesn't show off with any thousand-note solos.
He doesn't do intros that are way too long.
His moody style transcends virtuoso.

He is my friend and proven it so
Once guiding me through a valley of black.
Not with his music, although that helped.
He did so with his hand on my back.

A music teacher once told me that
"Music is the silence between notes".
If that is true, then his silence is golden
As I love every song that he's wrote.

So all you pickers, players and shredders
in garages or with gold albums on the wall.
Take a lesson, from this humble man
You needn't over play at all.

But don't think that he is timid or without some flair
Don't make boastful quips that you think are so witty.
If the mood and the moment strikes him just so
He can make that guitar sound like Godzilla destroying a city.

I am so proud to call him my "Brother"
Such a musician, such a friend.
His music and his camaraderie have both touched my soul
and I hope that neither see's end.
Wrote this about a pal of mine. Never wrote a piece about a guy before. Was kinda odd. But he has had an impact on my life and I do admire his work. This came to me on a country drive with the radio off ... as many pieces do.

As often happens, the silence made me sing one of his band's tunes in my head and then this started appearing. It seems to have some minor bumps iambically, so, I hereby reserve the right to rewrite any part of it at any time!

HA!
Caroline Grace Oct 2011
Mid October takes its end of season's leap
into the solitude of post-tourism autumn.
The landscape shows its truer face to celebrate
the reassembly of local solidarity.

Tat and trim tucked into hibernation,
chalkboards erased,
scant takings totaled,
inflatables deflated.
Unsold crafts packed between pages of yesterday's
'Correio de Manha'
Shocked freezers stand open-mouthed
their diet of ice dwindled to a thin trickle.
Sunshades collapse in deep south style,
redundant loungers relax supine.

Kids ***** back to school -
a mule-train of shoe-scrapers packed to the hilt
dawdles through warming scents of
post-salad indulgence,
sweet with the street-aroma of 'feijoada',
garlic, and  aromatic oregano
***-grown in a back plot, littered with
discarded placards and tired bikes.

Past men leaning doors, unsure of new routines,
idle hands and minds with new time to fill
mostly in cold bars for warm camaraderie.
Women pick fitfully at quiet-season's crochet
squatting to gossip under a white wash
slung and pegged, stick-sure
against thin bleached facades.

Under Planes, old comrades congregate
shuffling at a make-shift table,
tired eyes set on cards,
playing for cents under a limited sky
once defined by Salazar.

Car parks thin.
Beneath the russet canopies street-sweepers
scorn a reckless wind, where still sun-crisp leaves
gather in gutters, thirstily anticipating
the first deluge under autumn's gathering clouds.




copyright © Caroline Grace 2011
Rangzeb Hussain Feb 2011
I huddled into my collars and looked to the sky,
The day was overcast with yesterday’s lies,
The wind ripped through the streets and sang pain in my ears,
The clouds above heavily pregnant with tears,
On such a dark and cold day...
My eyes beheld a sight full of radiating rays.

Striding down the street in a landscape very urban
was a youth dressed in a gentle green turban,
His white salwar and kameez caressed by the air,
His fresh face beaming shining and clear,
And upon his lips and around his chin
curled a beard neatly combed and oiled from top to rim.

He walked with the confidence of a vibrant caliph,
I did for a moment in my mind stop and marvel at his belief,
This young man was such a contrast to the dark day,
He displayed brilliance and integrity and trod upon truth’s way,
He seemed one who was at ease with God and his deeds,
What a wonderful ambassador for all races and creeds.

As we two passed I offered up a greeting,
“Asalaam Alaikum”.

His eyebrows rippled and coiled like twin cobras lacking intelligence,
He replied to me with the surly silence of arrogance,
He ignored my universal humanity,
He ignored my peaceful charity,
He ignored my friendship and camaraderie,
He ignored God’s solemn word so rich and full of love’s clarity...

This young man...Who was he?
What did he think himself to be?
He was a stranger to me
and a stranger to himself. Could he not see?
He was a stranger even unto God Almighty Himself,
This self-assured man condemned his soul and lost touch with life itself.



©Rangzeb Hussain
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2023
Family biz takes us on the Acela train to Washington, D.C.,
a many-hour tour of the Monuments upon the Mall inclus,
never on a prior agenda, despite semi-frequent visitations,
but this time, rose early, in the cool morning, to touch and be touched

She asks if we have time enough for the Vietnam War Memorial,
time enough plentiful, no inkling her purpose was manifold, nay,
woman-fold, relating a story of a first teen boyfriend, they vowed,
to never lose touch, tho they became geographically distanced

On New Year’s day, a promise to each other, to speak on the phone,
they do honor this commitment, he will call, for in your early years,
solemn promises, honor, memories potentialities, galvanize bonds;
first love’s easy camaraderie birth tender promises, kept well-tended!

Till one year, no call comes, and desire, necessitates her to be
the protagonist, only to learn that Gerald, drafted in ‘68,
did not return, his parents inform her, the story told wistfully,
a Ranger locates his name, her reflection strains to reach his letters

Only I see her eyes filling and brimming, the shoulders ever
so slightly sagging and know this moment needs memorializing,
for we shed tears so rarely, that this youthful relationship, now more than threescore extant is why we built this black granite wall


Visit the Jefferson, MLK, Washington’s obelisk, and of course
the author of “of the people, by the people, for the people,”
a humble visage, humanizes his grandiose, white robed presence,
assessing his potential measure of life assassin-shortened, we exclaim

”if only, what might have been!”

but no tears are shed, but for a name of a young man,
taken before his prime, who enabled a girl to taste deep own-self, at an age we barely ken the words revealing our true emotive, or understand the color palette of serious, meanings of how we tick…

she’s easy overcome, I wonder, was she inside feeling, exclaiming,
”if only, what might have been,”
but no words emitted, only tears, that a tissue so softly takes away,
I think who among us, yet sheds sad tears for the days of our youth?

this poem in fufillment of my obligations, witness, memorializer,
arm to be leaned on, carrier of Kleenex, compatriot tear-shedder,
empathetic, sympathetic and recording secretary
that our past, is never truly past,

it is just waiting for a reflection,
resurfacing one more time
on a high polished black
granite slab

<postscript>

black granite mirrors sandblasted refresh cut scars into our consciousness and for some, our conscience, as one who
rarely thinks of and forgets to reflect on the life lottery he won,
back in 1968, so he was not called to serve, exclaiming

”if only, what might have been!
In Memoriam
Gerald Levy
Charlie's Web Apr 2015
You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Calling for salvation, claiming camaraderie

The internal tick I tend to mend,
sits on my chest, sinks into my irises.

A sip, a snort, a huff whisper safe promises.

You are the thumb I **** singing lullabies to sleeping peace,
the knife I carry down dark streets.

You are the doctor I call when I break my arm,
the scarf I wear in winter storms.

But too,

You are the *** hole in main streets,
and a broken belt in the drivers seat,
the sour milk in my fridge when I make English tea.
You've put salt in my sugar.

You are the feet that fall asleep in a moment of danger.

You are a beautiful thought waiting to unfold on black paper.

You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Commanding toxic tensions, comforting ill redemptions.

But

The kingdom we live in is drinking resilience,
mind stepping back into its brilliance.

You still sit on the holy thrown in my body.
But I too fight for survival
and you still dable with devils.

But the battles I face are no longer hollow,
and sometimes I miss the comfort of denial.
Amitav Radiance Aug 2014
I have been born to this affluent world
Rich with diversity and nature’s delight
So many wonders mesmerize me
Benevolence is the essence of this abode
The microcosm reflecting the magnanimity
Immediately I was accepted as a tenant
Being fed from the abundance of cultivation
Fertile soils yielding bountiful harvest
Feeding me to make me stronger
I walk upon this earth with pride and joy
To see mankind and animal kingdom thrive
The camaraderie between and nature and us
It still does not say, “You owe me”
We are indebted to this planet for the largesse
Yet, not rich enough to pay back the debt
I am just a tenant, wonder if I can repay
Only way I can do that is by nurturing love within
And not to destroy this space at will
Only I can love the earth with my heart
And help, in my way to nurture its purity
Many more to come after me can be a tenant here
Let this be a reminder, we are not here to plunder
OVC May 2013
Rain, rain, rain
My friend
Child of the heavens, that falls upon the earth and vast oceans
Rain
Rain upon the green leaves of trees and wet their trunks and barks.
Rain upon the flowers that have blossomed
from your mother’s *****.
Instill life on lakes and river beds, their streams
that dry when you don’t come.

Catch a couple holding hands, and rain
Shower them
Closer they will come, under his umbrella they will hide
Where their hearts will touch.
Let him smell the aroma of her silky hair
That will drug him like *******
Full of love and passion he will stare
At the sparkle of her stare
Drag them closer even more,
Pour.
Sprinkle a droplet onto her nose,
And let him wipe it softly with his thumb
And kiss it gently with the lips of his mouth
For now, here your job is done.

Rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.

Rain enough to make a paradise,
But wait for the old man that plows his fields
Wait till he gets home
Then, rain at your will
But don’t bring ice, and much less snow,
For spring has been cold, and winter even more.
That, the man especially knows
Alone he’ll sit on his chair on his porch,
With a rubber ball that he used to throw.
In the summer and in fall his dog would chase it,
But that was long ago.
Do you remember?
You got both soaked last November,
before the man was left alone.

But do not weep, just rain
My friend,  Rain.


Rain in big and small droplets on the earth and floor
Wet my bare feet and jump in between my toes
I want to stamp on the puddle of water that you’ve formed
Soak me and join me
Rain and accompany me
Let us form a camaraderie
We can tell each other stories
You can tell me of your journey as you fall down from above
And I’ll tell you of the plants and flowers that in your absence will bud
Don’t be scared, for I’ll be your friend
When people go inside when you come,
I’ll come outside
You will make the puddles and I the mud
Even with my fading eyes I’ll look up
At the sky to welcome you as you rain.

When you leave don’t leave too fast,
Else the rainbow won’t show up
And please, don’t say goodbye
Farewells are too sad
Instead, say an “until next time.”

But for now rain, rain, rain,
My friend,
Rain.
I hope you like it. Any suggestions?
Arlene Corwin Jul 2020
All the years before the Corona pandemic, my Swedish neighbours from across the lake used to celebrate the 4th of July with a party,  having themselves spent 32 years in the United States.  To them I dedicate this poem.

  July 4th, 2020 🇺🇸

It is the fourth of July.
A day we usually
Fill with joy:
Fireworks, parades and games
Its names:
Fourth of July:
Independence Day.

United, free;
No more a colony;
A formal declaration
Made of five brave men
And Thomas Jefferson,
Making history, and
The beginnings of a USA.

So, Americans,
My dear, dear Swedish friends
And any there may be elsewhere,
Let us wear the day
In camaraderie and play.
Most all in harmony.
Happy, Happy 4th July! 🇺🇸

July 4th, 2020 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2017
loot the ***** boot the rich
Hang the snitch emancipate the
itch madness a bit saintly
Pitch a fast curve kick sadness
to the curb of broken dreams
It seems a thing of the past blast
passed the failure your always
will be searching for that someone that is me you irritate my peace of mind when will you finally leave me alone the thirst for success
Irresistible i cant reach without you in the drivers seat a deadbeat\

rhino walking softly carries a big
gun to compute the poverty disburse the novelty mute the donkey
Shoot up the ****** groove\
superb lock stock two smoking barrels manup positions dapple improve\
dry too flimsy ripple status quo fluid stain wet into a puddle strain\
stable ground disintegrate cry squabble hone grin refute scrabble tunnel\
cruising off a shotgun bang what up with that thang show her off hang *****\
sting know how ripe ***** in demand bite inflicting raw election dangle TLC\
exposed suckle foreplay bare the doom shielded knuckle brass boots ******* HooT\
BooM on blast mettle to the pedal sass passing windows fast exhaust throttle\
fastlane straddle last shrine wine tire popping the wealthy snoot channelside\
stealthy snoop crank dogg sly filthy in hind charlie brown restrain grand sighs\
define the grime be kind foresee the crime rewind lakhaim frame spine spinning\
wheel ordeals repeal sick figures concealed pinning children against frontal lobes\

memory versus\

skulls lost salam to lucifer in a frantic relay replay demonic delay foiling shalom\
band alaykoum in purse fulfilling evil curse droopy eyed fools drooling pearl pool\
diluting verses sheet smarts versions saluting sheer farce shuffling back\ rank pipe crack\
tears smear contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
smears contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
frown talking to walls of jail houses crowned end dead thread landfill clowns\
bumping heads bunk bed trash courthouse playground twisting ***** fits\
battered butter mutter peace cross the street forgetting to put up and fight\
shiest with height heist barren on the other side green lyres setting fear steep lower\
reflection revel mirrors deflection inflicting Ghostface highness pace rhymeless chase Killah\

stoke shady slim phone in remaining senses detain impurity capitulating dexterity fuse\
recluse stan granting badass roundhouse kicks rudimental trick chant chatterbox vamp\
underworld stick centerfold haunting Rancid activate superlative octave erupt glee\
sharply whiplash ash out the masses entrance serendipity multiply sentimental divide\
invincible prime knowledge footprint stepping benign modicum rootline stem enticing\ cognizant fledge camaraderie hack feasibility snare clear spear stupes stare look at\
that rearview it's you ******* a pornstar in the backseat rampaged **** dripping slit swept\

weeping tantric rendition ******* loose rocking out sweep companions check and replace\
**** tighten up crews shock and strut byob bend righty tighty string along aim gift dames\
chauffeur fate slate teams honor razzle the green fire dazzle gardens retire kinder\
inspire **** arthur passion swords struck within pyramid empires cured she'll always\
                          love you truly madly deeply combined nocturnal eternal WH navel\
brighten up rooms choose floos to lose
her
she remains a fuzzy memory mystery once a fountain of laughter joy *** intimacy camaraderie now a myth gone for many years old ****** box waiting deep on bathroom shelf unused le creuset pots asleep inside kitchen cabinet in her absence i became her my hair as long as hers what shall we do today i ask myself dry throat tries to swallow raspy voice concurs birds outside my window chirp harassing sounds where is she if only i had known every day i think of her willowy physique tomboy titlessness asymmetrical exotic ******* knobbiest knees i’ve ever seen i guess what i miss most is our trust in each other
erin haggerty Apr 2010
i shattered his stone coat
snug around his idle core
by my fist of strong will and liberty
behind it bearing the beat of a newborn
simple and soft
radiating and revealed
to fruitful camaraderie
bionic boy bound by his brothers
craving delights they say a man should
thundering still with lust's vehemence
piercing through cyan lenses
i sliced it open
tore it out.
denied him at birth.
****** love
it's not enough.
it will die without saying so.
gathering stones

— The End —