"commented" poems
I hitch a ride on the Battle Bus,
Everyone else jumped out, I must.
I deploy my parachute below,
I glide my way to Moisty Meadow.
As I land I slurp some shields,
Extra health and a pistol I wield.
I loot the houses and **** the squads,
Which would not be possible without my mods.
I run from the storm throughout the game,
I post on the 'Gram that I won for fame.
Everyone that saw my Victory Royale,
Commented below and said "Dang, Wow!"
Now that I won, I'm the coolest around,
I walk down the halls with a figurative crown.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
i.
not bad,
i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing
for the first time ever ;
not bad was my way to say
extraordinary
still is today
i have standards, you see and —
well...
they were met when i
heard you say,
"that's only half what
i can do."
let's get this straight:
i was the best at what i do until
you came around ;
it's not like i'm mad though —
quite the opposite
in fact.
ii.
here's something else:
i have always liked the way your eyes
shot daggers
even when you were smiling ;
a death stare, they named it and, you know,
i won't call them wrong —
i'm rather fluent with the concepts of
death
and staring myself, after all.
ah,
do you remember?
when we spoke to each other —
it was always a sparring of
eyes
rather than words.
iii.
a fact:
you have been called cold
more often than
you have been called pleasant ;
i know —
it's not like you'd disagree
not like you'd be stupid enough to
deny ;
cold is a comfortable shadow
to hide in,
something people like us
wear as a coat or
a scarf
from july to june.
now,
there's this saying that the addition of
two negative objects
turns them a positive
result ;
i'm not much of a scholar so, honey,
what's on your mind?
iv.
i get it now,
if i'm propellers
you are wings —
rather than a mirror, we're
distorted reflects
a thing evolution knows
a great deal about ;
this yearning is the aspect of you
i'd wish to keep
bottled up ;
"what for?" you'd ask.
no,
yearning is not a thing
i'm a stranger to ;
i've yearned for many things including
strength
sleep
serotonin
and you —
i've been struggling
to make them mine, though
perhaps because i'm never really trying.
v.
that's how you do it:
you take what you want with
clawed hands
accomplish miracles with
thunderous silence —
an entity of cruel fairness,
icy anger but —
what you want is a complicated
thing
with definite shape to your eyes
but blurry to those of
others.
okay,
i'm neither believer nor seer but
here's a little prediction :
the day you are satisfied is the day
hellmouth
shuts down upon us all and
half of me
prays for it.
vi.
about extremes —
some will say grey is a better shade and
though i confess
it does have its charms,
it still has to paint me a picture more striking
than a soul with
adamentine purpose.
see —
i stare as you pass by,
terrific in beauty
beautiful in hardness and
off —
goes my heart, sanity, ego
and shirt.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
now I don't mind taking criticism but those who disrespect me should expect to be seeing light like a prism you shouldn'tve said anything you little troll you never commented on anything I wrote inboxing me trying to scold me for reposting something I found funny you'll learn not to **** with me the blast master you little ******* can't type more than ten Words while I can drop bombs and bars for hours I'll scour the internet and **** you're no original self up on here or on wax if you wanna take it that far man **** it I'm done you're a waste of dissing bars
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values.
The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap”
I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that;
“Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words.
When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society
Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms
Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had.
With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication
While others live in agony especially the illiterate.
The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness
Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old
Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders
In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students.
When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music.
Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world.
Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation.
But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.
Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted
No utterance commented.
How does it feel to be unreal?
You may not like me when I disagree
But teach me how to like me
While I'm
Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.
Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted
I'll romance the unloveable
Place my shoulder under the unbearable
The pose we take in an argument
Sustainable measurement.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.
Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.
The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.
"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.
"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.
"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."
Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.
"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.
"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.
"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.
Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:
"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.
"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.
"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."
Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
*The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will be live-*
The revelation will be streaming through your Windows
laptops and smartphones.
The revolution will be blogged
Tweeted, liked, shared, RE-blogged RE-tweeted
and Stumbled Upon in between
midnight ************ sessions
sandwiched between funny cat memes.
The resolution will be HD.
It's evolution will be high speed.
The whistles will be blown at with frequency.
The revolution will be commented on;
Scrutinized.
Vandalized.
Scandalized.
Stylized and advertized.
People will pay attention -
People will forget to mention
that some stand up, occupy, riot
and die.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution be streaming live
through the filter of your choice.
The facts will be democratized.
The democracy will be corporatized.
The corporations will personified.
People, objectified -
Spied on and villainized
The powers that be will will lie, deny, and try to justify.
The people will be disenfranchised.
Prisons will be privatized.
Death drones will be utilized.
No one will bat an eye.
Because revolution will be multiplied, over-simplified,
The violence, normalized.
Lives, sacrificed
to satiate the Golden Calf's appetite.
The revolution will not be televised
but Jerry Springer will...
Go figure.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
not many people favor
the flavor
of the green tea latte
sweet from the start
with a slight bitter aftertaste
as the matcha on your tongue fades
i remember the time
we went to your favorite cafe
and you commented on how your
green tea latte
was a little sweeter than the usual
and now i comment how
it is a little more bitter
compared to when i had it with you
the green tea latte
is my memory of you
sweet—for every time
we sat in that same spot
sipping the warm green drink
and bitter— for the moment
i drank my
green tea latte
alone
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
(I don't really hate pantoums, but once, when I wrote about the rules for repeating forms like pantoums and villanelles, one girl commented "I hate pantoums and villanelles. I guess I get bored easily." But this only provoked me to write a Pantoum using her words, just a little edited.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hate pantoums and villanelles
because I'm very easily bored
when a poem goes on and on, and tells
the things that have been said before.
Because I'm very easily bored,
I get impatient for lots of stuff.
The things that have been said before
don't need repeating. Once is enough.
I get impatient, for lots of stuff
I get to hear throughout the day
don't need repeating. Once is enough
to understand what you have to say.
I get to hear throughout the day
the same old news again and again.
To understand what you have to say
should not be hard. Intelligent men
and women don't need those extra lines
when a poem goes on and on, and tells
what it's said before, too many times.
I hate pantoums – and villanelles!
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
My sister boasted to me one night in a Liverpool pub
She had *** with a couple of coppers down the Mersey Tunnel.
'You're nothing bit a fat slapper' I scolded her,
As she examined the selfie I had taken
Just a few moments earlier of me
And her best friend up against the ladies' bog door.
"Good likeness, innit?" I commented and the
She farted stentoriously in surprise and,
The follow-through oozed down her dimpled thigh.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
Red Velvet has been lauded for breaking stereotypes
among popular girl groups in South Korea, whose concepts
tend to fall under two categories: "cute, or "pure" and ****
to fulfill a certain fantasy; in a country where girl groups'
fan bases are typically male, according to Taylor Glasby
of Dazed Digital, the majority of Red Velvet's fans are young
women and commented that "They {Red Velvet & ReVeluv}
are neither **** nor innocent, the band's music videos are often
dark, trippy, sinister, or haunting, even when they're flooded in
pastel colors". In 2017, IZE Magazine named the group
as one of the successful female figures who helped transform
the passive image of South Korean women at a time when
feminism had risen as an issue in the country. The group's music
also sets them apart from other K-pop artists. K-pop idols in general
suffer from a prejudice that they aren't considered real musicians
by music critics. But because of the group's diverse musical
inspirations and styles, these critics have since claimed that Red Velvet
has pushed the boundaries of music in the early 21st century.
In February 2018, Time magazine named Red Velvet
as one of the best K-pop groups ever, highlighting
their versatile musical styles;
Red Velvet was recognized
for their brand recognition and marketing power,
having topped _'Girl Group Brand Power Ranking'_
published by the Korean Corporate Reputation
Research Institute for three consecutive months.
Red Velvet performed in Pyongyang on April, 1 2018.
This made them the fifth idol group to ever perform
in North Korea. They performed "Red Flavor" & "Bad Boy"
at the East Pyongyang Grand Theater to an audience
that included Kim Jong-un. The concert was billed
as "Spring is Coming" and is part of a wider diplomatic
initiative between the ROK & the DPRK
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
Dear manipulative boyfriend,
I'm sorry that I never stood up for myself,
or commented on your sexist remarks,
or the daily jokes about mental health
or suicide.
I see now that that was my mistake,
I just never wanted to be "that feminazi ***** you always talked about.
Dear manipulative boyfriend,
I'm sorry that my depression made me suicidal,
because I know that that was such an inconvenience for you.
And that my anxiety was so bad that I had panic attacks at the thought of you loving someone else.
I see now that that was my mistake,
because I shouldn't have had feelings too.
How stupid of me.
Dear manipulative boyfriend,
I'm sorry that I didn't understand why you wouldn't come near me,
why you could only love me on your own terms,
or why you would go for days without looking at me.
I see now that that was my mistake,
because I shouldn't have though that I deserved love.
Dear manipulative boyfriend,
I'm sorry that you talked to my best friend behind my back,
when you wouldn't even look me in the eye.
All the times that you flirted with her,
and she flirted back.
I see now that that was my mistake,
because I should have known that I wasn't good enough for you.
Dear manipulative boyfriend,
I'm sorry that you broke up with me over text,
because you were "too much of a coward" to do it in person,
while you filmed the whole thing while your friend watched,
and laughed as my heart broke.
I see now that that was my mistake,
because I shouldn't have expected anything kinder.
Dear manipulative ex-boyfriend,
I'm sorry that my mental health was "just for attention",
and that I started to get better without you.
Or that I could actually laugh,
and smile,
and not hate myself for it.
I see now that that was my mistake,
I didn't deserve happiness.
Dear manipulative ex-boyfriend,
I'm sorry that you had to take away the last shred of hope I had,
that dumping me and destroying my reputation was so hard on you,
that when I tried to tell our friends why I couldn't be around you,
you made them drive me to tears,
and drive me away.
I see now that that was my mistake,
I should have known that you would infect them too.
It's like you were poisonous.
Dear manipulative ex-boyfriend,
I'm sorry that you turned my friends against me,
that you became violent and aggressive,
that you took out your anger about me on our shocked and confused friends,
that you thought you could treat everyone else just like you treated me.
I see now that that was my mistake,
because I should have done something to stop you before it was too late...
Dear his next girlfriend,
I'm sorry that I didn't try hard enough to show him that what he was doing was wrong,
you are strong enough to stand up to him.
I forgive you for going behind my back,
I knew it was coming from the start.
Remember that you are not alone,
and that you never really did made any mistakes,
because it wasn't your fault you were dating someone so toxic.
I love you,
and I will be here for you
when he breaks you.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me
because you forgot that I'm not there anymore?
I slept next to someone else last night,
But I had a dream that I was next to you,
And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up.
I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or
Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me.
According to everyone I should just go meet someone else,
but it's not that easy.
I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober,
When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you.
I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back
Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night.
Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the *****
I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning.
That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw
Why
Didn't
You
Love
Me?
I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy.
I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams,
You still don't love me.
If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough,
Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message?
If I stare out my window long enough,
Will I see you walking towards my front door?
I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me.
That's become particularly annoying
since the Chainsmokers got popular.
Apparently I can't get over you
while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists
But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to.
The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk.
I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed
since you're much taller than me.
In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life
that haven't been moving at all.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
While smoking dope with you.
You asked me to write a poem.
A poem just about you.
I said that might not be good thing to do!
We giggled.
No really you said.
It wiped the stone from my head.
I would not know how to begin!
Just write about me.
Your feeling within, you commented.
Ask me anything you do not already not know.
It was then I realized knew nothing about you.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
An Irish judge recently commented that cyclists should pay insurance to protect people driving over priced cars.
I suggest that idiots in powerful positions in the judiciary should pay insurance for the possible damage that they may cause to this country.
Cycling is the last vestige of the romantic, facilitating free movement with minimal dealings with capitalists, exploitative business people, bus drivers, and the self interested.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Speculation proved
contagious,
misinterpretation
crept silently on patchwork soles
(odds n' sods messily stitched,
tittle tattle did no favours)
like a flu it spread,
hushed curiosities rested
outside ol' Hutch baker's door,
where even a freshly oven'd
batch might strain an ear
or five to net nearby tongue trading,
seeds straining on their brows.
Even those Mother hens
had a cluck or two left in them,
rumours about the
'Dust mite Martyr'
as she was dubbed,
“Does she have no shame,
sitting pretty in Matrimony's dress?”
one heaving checkered breast commented
titling her beak
to gain a better look -
At that shriveller slumped,
an examiner of the cobbles
with such a religious stare
her lids traced stones
within the darkness,
a traveller -
wanderer not to be trusted,
especially not
with bloodied lilies tangled
within her gleaming mop.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC
You know, you just gotta love
poetry blog sites
Poetry sites make you comfy
You post a poem
and they tell you how
useless your poem is
with various comments and statistics
Like how? Like below…
You posted this poem 36 hours ago.
This poem is public and visible on your profile.
It has been read by 1 other person.
Loser!
(Actually, was that you using another account?)
Loser!
It’s been 36 days now since
you posted this poem
and 360 other poems.
You’ve had 1 hit –
****** loser!*
It’s all so consistent…
You’ve had no likes…
You’ve had no recommendations…
No one has favorited you…
Loser! Loser! Loser!
****** loser!*
You've no Friends.
You've had no Invitations.
You’re not on the
Most Frequented Poet List.
You’re not on the
Most Commented List.
You’ve had 390 poems
and none has been chosen
to be featured at our site
and none of your poems
ever became Editor’s pick.
Loser! Loser! Loser!
O, What’s wrong with you?
*Loser! Loser! ****** Loser!*
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
She had to put
her dog down,
the dog that she took
on many walks
on many mornings,
the dog who was so pretty
that people always commented,
and when she had put
her dog down,
she felt like a killer
and our hearts
were torn.
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 3:34 AM UTC
I always hid under the stars,
because they told me
they'd protect me
the way they protected you.
"It's the least we could do,"
they commented when
they thought I couldn't
hear them,
*"especially since we did
such a shoddy job
with the previous fella."*
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist's tube to a whispering pinch of salt.
Cross my heart, the two hundred pound man had just cracked a joke about a new hat he got his wife, when the messenger boy slipped in and asked him to sign. He gave the boy a nickel, tore the envelope and read.
Then he yelled "Good God," jumped for his hat and raincoat, ran for the elevator and took a taxi to a railroad depot.
As I say, it was like a set of crystals in a chemist's tube and a whispering pinch of salt.
I wonder what Diogenes who lived in a tub in the sun would have commented on the affair.
I know a shoemaker who works in a cellar slamming half-soles onto shoes, and when I told him, he said: "I pay my bills, I love my wife, and I am not afraid of anybody."
2.2k
I had a seventh grader tell me, when I was in 5th grade, that things go downhill after 5th grade - that life doesn’t get better, it just gets more complicated. I’ve had years to mull that over and I have to say that in some ways his testimony was on beat.
As we start the second half of sophomore fall semester, I think I’ve reached stability and I’m accustomed to this year’s schedule and workload. I haven’t surveyed whether I’m faster or slower in this (see below), but now I know all the tricks - where to eat, which paths to take and what to carry. I have a firm rhythm that’s consistent and insistent.
“I’m finally on my schedule.” I commented to Sunny yesterday morning as we collided in our dash to get our shoes on.
She looked at me in confusion “You know we’re on week 8 out of 15, Ya?”
I was shocked, “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admitted as we stepped out.
It’s midnight and we’re going (Peter, Lisa, Sophie and I) to “My **** tonight (the dorm basement snack-bar). I took two seconds to splash my face with water and twist-back my hair. “How do I look?” I asked Peter.
“You’re attractive.. enough,” he said, “..I mean you fall within a bell curve.”
“You're almost 40,” I say, in the face of his non-complement.
“I’m 26,” Peter said, “You know it, and I have proof. You DO have some good points though,” he granted, while trying to drape his great, hairy, gorilla-like arm on me, “there’s your sparkling conversation and nice underwear.”
“I donated those to goodwill,” I lied, while giving him a half-gentle stiff-arm.
“You remind me of my parents,” Sophie says.
The tea (the best tea is scandalous). Lisa’s friend Baker dashed back to her room between classes yesterday. She’d forgotten the big paper she had to turn-in. It was a mad dash and passing a roommate’s open door, she realized that the girl was lowkey ************ Lisa, delighted to be an interlocutor in the matter, due to Baker’s overplus embarrassment, Lisa's trying to suggest next steps in a post-shock protocol.
Oct 28, 2022
Oct 28, 2022 at 2:30 PM UTC
I confront my prejudice
How will the girls in my script look?
I admit, I expect them to all be Disney Perfect
But that goes against my values
I know the damage perfect does
There is no perfect, there is only diversity
How can one genetic look always outshine the others?
Tall, thin, blonde with large breasts. Long legs and arms. Size 0.
No, there is beauty in difference
and it can be put on film
not as a side show, but the main attraction
I learned from my mother
Beauty is a mirage
An eternal struggle of pain
of hunger, the knife, the self hatred
that is never attained
A petite Scottish woman, medium *****
a dancer with a beautiful body and face
and a slasher for an inner voice, striking her at every move
It's in me, too
I learned the lessons of beauty as I learned Calculus in my high school texts
This is the formula, this is the way it is
The proof is it is all around us in the media
Body very thin, ******* very large
Size 0 without ribs, and hip bones and shoulder bones sticking out
How the stylists repel when they see that evidence of starvation
And large, engorged ******* ready to feed an army of babies
"nature doesn't make women like that" commented a model
before she had "augmentation"
If I am to create this world, my story
I must confront myself
I must accept my form, and its history
A body never born to be size 0
without ribs or bones showing
or six feet tall
or small *****
or large breasted without extra flesh everywhere
A body scarred by the affects of poverty
worry, and struggle
A resilient body, a strong body
and one that does not fit the mold
of "beauty" and never did
but at the same time, is beautiful
but not in the accepted form
like my mother
If I don't accept myself
if I can't look at myself and say this is OK
This is who I am and it is just fine
How will I accept it in my characters?
How will I look beyond appearance to the soul?
You don't make a good story with models
That is a fashion show
You make a good story with people who are unique
with their own configurations and unique qualities
even in their flesh
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
The phone ringed, I gazed at the screen.
I had never seen the number before.
Baffled, I handed it over to my handsome husband.
"Answer it," shoving it towards his head.
He hurried and said "hello, who is calling."
He looked at me blank and weirdly saying "I will grab her. Wait briefly."
His eyes blazed into me, "it's your grandma."
Shaken, I said, "Hello."
She did a joyful, "hello Kara Jean."
Determined to figure out what was happening.
I proudly said, " you must have the wrong number both my grandmas are dead."
She replied "I'm so sorry what a coincidence.
My granddaughter is also Kara Jean.
I swear we've been here once before."
Giggling I commented, "that's remarkably crazy. I'm not remembering."
Silence hit the air.
The old cracked voice women said, "or maybe it's just your grandma calling from heaven to tell you she loves you."
My throat being choked nothing would really be announced.
Finally my voice complied, " What did you just say I'm not comprehending."
An earth shattering laugh went over the phone, "You sound pretty amazing.
I know if you were my grand baby,
I would be proud to be graced by you."
Words failed me being a first.
Before I could get it together enough to say what the hell is happening.
She exclaimed hastily,
"I must be on my way, "know your grandmas undeniably love you."
Click went the phone gone with no trace.
Uncontrollable tears gushing out of my face.
Reacting as if everything was falling away from my body.
Was I hallucinating.
Could someone been playing a cruel joke?
Who would have the audacity.
Considering, could it have truly been a toll free call from heaven.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
How Brave you must be~the squaw exclaimed to the Chief. " Why, I am more than a Brave", the Chieftain quipped.! " Just look at my feathers and the scalps hanging by my side, do they not tell of My many Deeds ? Her reply was a simple ,, "YES, I can see how you have adorned yourself ! " He retorted ~ " And you certainly can't miss all the colors by which I have claimed MY-STATUS ! " The Squaw responded~ "YES, the HUES on you, certainly tell me who and what you are, now that I look closely ! " And he added~ "Look at the careful way in which I have displayed my Collection of SCALPS, Spaced ever so carefully around my waistband ! She questioned further, "Have you ,Oh Mighty Chief, Properly named each of the Scalps , SO YOU won't forget from whence they came ? ? "OH, My Goodness, YES, he answered. "I wouldn't ever want to forget where they came from, SO~I admire each and Call each of them, By Name~ Everyday. "SURELY" She continued, "YOU are much more than any other Chief, and by the way , DO you use Windex or Glass-Plus to clean your mirrors ? ? " HE exclaimed, "I, really don't know what cleaning agent my servant uses, to clean my many mirrors ! BUT, they certainly do shine, when I look into them ! The SQUAW queried~ " BUT what about your shoes, moccasins , if you would, WHAT~~ is that Green-Gooey Stuff all over them ? ? HE-Commented~ " I guess that when I take my mighty steps, toes and feet, IN THE WAY, Fall under the Prances that I make ! ! ? " Then,She asked~ "Do you do your War'Dances often, or just as you are called on, by your mighty warriors ? " AND,,this Brave-Chieftain PROCLAIMED~ "WHY, I"ll have you Know, I do all of these Prances and Dances ~BY MY OWN CHOICE, NO-ONE tells me when or what to do. Except my visits with the Prince of the Air !" The Squaw thanked him~turned~then turned back~Asking " Measured by~ Scalps~Prances and Dances ? ?
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
Everyday I saw them flying
Heard them screaming
Cursed their noisy presence
Resented the danger they presented to my wards
The baby fish that I was charged with
One tourist commented that
"Kingfishers sure are beautiful birds"
I agreed solemnly (out loud) but privately I didn't agree at all
Didn't see any beauty in their white and grey feathers
Didn't hear it in their coarse shrieks
Then today
I was taken aback by a strange shape flapping and struggling above the water
It was one of them, one of the kingfishers
Somehow he had snagged his wing on a fish hook and was dangling helplessly
I saw blood and torn flesh, my approach simply made him more frantic
I tried to pull the hook out but it was viciously intertwined with the creature
My hand brushed incredibly soft and downy feathers
His eyes were wide with panic, his thin, powerful beak open in bleak desperation
I put my hand out to lift him
His black claws put pressure on my hand, relieved pressure from the fishing line
and allowed me to extract the lethal hook from his ruffled, ravaged wing
He flew, he was scared of me,
he fell back to the water
I was ready to save him but he was swept out of sight
I stood there thinking
How terrible for a creature of the sky to die in the water
How scared he must be to be surrounded by the wrong kind of blue
Sinking instead of soaring
Then I saw a kingfisher suddenly fly up behind me
It might have been the same one but I'm not sure
Logic tells me that it must have been him
But my heart remains sad
and tells me no
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC