Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Keith J Collard Jun 2013
The Quest for the Damsel Fish  by Keith Collard

Author's  Atmosphere

On the bow of the boat, with the cold cloud of the dismal day brushing your back conjuring goose bumped flesh you hold an anchor.  For the first time, you can pick this silver anchor up with only one hand and hold it over your head. It resembles the Morning Star, a brutal medieval weapon that bludgeons and impales its victims.  Drop it into the dark world beyond the security of your boat--watch the anchor descend.
        Watch this silver anchor--this Morning Star--descend away from the boat and you, it becomes swarmed over with darkness.  It forms a ******-metallic grin at first as it sinks, then the sinking silver anchor takes its last shape at its last visible glimpse.  It is so small now as if it could be hung from a necklace.  It is a silver sword.  
Peering over the side of the boat, the depths collectively look like the mouth of a Cannibalistic Crab, throwing the shadows of its mandibles over everything that sinks down into it--black mandibles that have joints with the same angle of a Reaper's Scythe.  

I am scared looking at this sinking phantasm.  I see something from my youth down there in this dark cold Atlantic.  I see the silver Morning Star again, now in golden armor.  I remember a magnificent kingdom, in a saltwater fish tank I had once and never had again.  A tropical paradise that I see again as I stare down into the depths.  This fish tank was so beautiful with the most beautiful inhabitants who I miss.  Before I could lift the silver anchor--the Morning Star--over my head with only one hand, turning gold in that morning sun-- I was a boy who sat indian style, cross legged--peering into this brilliant spectacle of light I thought awesome.  I thought all the darkness of home and the world was kept at bay by this kingdom of light...

Chapter  1 Begins the Story

The Grey Skies of Mass is the Name of This Chapter.

                                                      ­­                        
    
 Air, in bubbles--it was a world beauty of darkness revealed in slashes of light from dashing fluorescent bulbs overhead this fish tank.
Silver swords of fluorescent energy daring to the bottom, every slash revealing every color of the zodiac--from the Gold of Scorpio to the purple of Libra combining into the jade of the Gemini. 
In the center, like a dark Stonehenge were rocks. The exterior rocks had tropical colors like that of cotton candy, but the interior shadows of the rocks that was the Stonehenge, did not possess one photon of light. The silver messengers of the florescent energy from above would tire and die at their base.  The shadows of the Stonehenge rocks would stand over them as they died.

 
          When the boy named Sake climbed the rickety wood stairs of the house, he did so in fear of making noise, as if to not wake each step.
   Until he could see the glowing aura of his fish tank then he would start down that eerie hall, With pictures of ghosts and ghosts of pictures staring down at him as he walked down that rickety hallway of this towering old colonial home.  He hurried to the glowing tank to escape the black and white gazing picture frames.
                    The faint gurgling, bubbling of the saltwater tank became stronger in his ear, and that sound guided him from the last haunt of the hallway-- the empty room that was perpendicular to  his room.   He only looked to his bright tank as soon as he entered the hallway from the creaky wooden steps.  Then he proceeded to sit in front of this great tropical fish tank in Indian style with his legs folded over one another as children so often would sit.
  The sun was setting.  The reflections from the tank were beginning to send ripples down the dark walls. Increasing  wave after wave reflecting down his dark walls.  He thought they to be seagulls flapping into the darkness until they were overcome as he was listening to the bubbling water of his tank.
                " Hello my fish, hello Angel, hello Tang, hello  Hoomah, hello Clown and hello Damsel … and hello to you Crab...even though I do not like you," he said in half jest not looking at the crab in the entrance of the rocks.  The rocks were the color of cotton candy, but the interior shadows did not possess a photon of luminescence.  All other shadows not caused by the rocks--but by bright swaying ornament--were like the glaze on a candy apple--dark but delicious.  Besides the crab's layer in the rock jumble at the center of the tank which was a Stonehenge within a Stonehenge--the tank was a world of bright inviting light.
                The crab was in its routine,  motionless in the entrance to his foyer, with his scythe-like claws in the air, in expectation of catching one of the bright fish someday.  For that reason the boy tried to remove the crab in the past, but even though the boy was fast with his hand, the optical illusion of the tank would always send his hand where the crab no longer was.  He did not know how to use two hands to rid the crab in the future by trapping and destroying the Cannibal Crab ;  his father, on a weekend visit, gave the Crab to the boy to put into the bright world of the saltwater tank, which Sake quickly regretted.  His father promised him that the Crab would not be able to catch any of the fish he said " ...***** only eat anything that has fallen to the bottom or each other..."

         A scream from the living room downstairs ran up the rickety wood and down the long hall and startled the boy.  His mother sent her shrieks out to grab the boy, allowing her to not have to waste any time nor calorie on her son; for she would tire from the stairs, but her screams would not, allowing her to stay curled up on the couch.  If she was not screaming for Sake, she was talking as loud as screams on the phone with her girlfriends.  The decibels from her laugh was torture for all in the silent house.   A haughty laugh in a gossipy conversation, that overpowered the sound of the bright tropical fish tank in Sake's room that was above and far opposite her in the living room.
               " Sake you have to get a paper-route to pay for the tank, the electricity bill is outrageous," she said while not taking her eyes off the TV and her legs curled up beside her.  He would glad fully get a paper-route even if it was for a made up reason.  He turned to go, and looked back at his mother, and a shudder ran through him with a new thought:  someday her appearance will match her voice.  

              Upon reaching his tank,  Hoomah was trying to get his attention as always.  Taking up pebbles in his big pouty pursed lips and spitting them out of his lips like a weak musket.  The Hoomah was a very silly fish, it looked like one of Sake’s aunts, with too much make up on, slightly overweight, and hovering on two little fins that looked incapable of keeping it afloat, but they did.  The fins reminded him of the legs of his aunt--skinny under not so skinny.’

               The Tang was doing his usual aquanautics , darting and sailing was his trick.  He was fast, the fastest with his bright yellow triangular sail cutting the water.  Next was the aggressive Clown fish, the boy thought she was always aggresive because she didn't have an anemone to sleep on.  The Clown was strong and sleek with an orange jaw and body that was built like a tigress.
  Sake thought something tragic about the body if the  orange Clown and the three silver traces that clawed her body as decoration -they reminded him of the incandescent orange glow of a street lamp being viewed through the rainy back windshield of a car.   The Clown fish was a distraction that craved attention.
The Clown would chase around some of the other fish and jump out of the water to catch the boy's eye. 
                 Next is the Queen Angel fish, she is the queen of the tank, she sits in back all alone, waving like a marvelous banner, iridescent purple and golden jade.  Her forehead slopes back in a French braid style that streams over her back like a kings standard waving before battle, but her standard is of a house of beauty, and that of royal purple.

                    Lastly is the Damsel Fish, the smallest and most vulnerable in the tank.  She has royal purple also, rivaling the queen. Her eyes are lashed but not lidded like the Hoomah.  Her eyes are elliptical, and perhaps the most human, or in the boy’s opinion, she is the most lady like, the Hoomah and the Queen Angel come to her defence if she is chased around by the Clown.  Her eyes penetrate the boys, to the point of him looking away.  

                      Before the tank, in its place in the corner was a painting, an oil painting of another type of Clown donning a hat with orange partial make-up on his face (only around eyes nose and mouth there was ghost white paint) and it  had two tears coming down from its right eye.  The Clown painting was given to him by his mother, it seems he could not be rid of them, but Sake at first was taken in by the brightness of the Clown, and the smooth salacious wet look of the painting. it looked dripping, or submerged, like another alternate reality.  The wet surreal glaze of the painting seemed a portal, especially the orange glow of the Clown's skin without make-up.  .  If he tried to remember of times  before the Clown painting that preceded the Clown fish, he thought of the orange saffron twilight of sunset, and watching it from the high window from his room in the towering house.  How that light changed everything that it touched, from the tree tops and the clouds, to even the dark hallway leading up to his room.  The painting and the Clown fish did not feel the same as those distant memories of sunset, especially the summer sunset when his mother would put him to bed long before the sun had set.  
Sake did not voice opposition to the Clown.
Then he was once again trapped by the Clown.  
            The boy was extremely afraid of this painting that replaced the sunsets , being confined alone with it by all those early bedtimes.
Sake once asked his mother if he could take it down, whereas she said " No."  That clown would follow him into his dreams, always he would be down the hill from the tall house on the hill, trying to walk back to the house, but to walk away or run in a dream was like walking underwater or in black space, and he would make no distance as the ground opened up and the clown came out of the ground hugging him with the pryless grip of eight arms.  He would then wake up amid screams and a tearful hatted clown staring somberly down at him from the wall where it was hung.  Night made him fear the Clown painting more;  that ghost white make-up decorating around the eyes and mouth seeming to form another painting in entirety.  He could only look at the painting after a while when the lights were on, and the wet looking painting was mostly orange from the skin, neck, and forearms of the hat wearing clown.  But the painting is gone now, and the magnificent light display of the tank is there now.  

                Sake pulled out the fish food, all the fish bestirred in anticipation of being fed.  The only time they would all come together; and that was to mumble the bits of falling flakes: a chomp from the Clown, a pucker from the Hoomah, the fast mumble of the Tang, and the dainty chew of the Damsel.  The Queen Angelfish would stay near the bottom, and kiss a flake over and over.   She would not deign herself to go into a friendly frenzy like the other fish; she stayed calm, yet alluring like a flag dancing rhythmically in the breeze, but never repeating the same move as the wind never repeats the same breeze.  She is the only fish to change colors.  When the grey skies of Mass emit through every portal in the house at the height of its bleakness, her colors would turn more fantastic, perhaps why she is queen.

                 He put his finger in the top of the watery world; the warmth was felt all the way up his arm.  After feeding, his favorite thing to do was to trace his finger on the top of the warm water and have the Damsel follow it. She loved it, it was her only time to dance, for the Clown would descend down in somewhat fear ( or annoyance) of the boys finger, and the Damsel and he would dance.  The boy, thought that extraordinary.

                     Sake bedded down that night, to his usual watery world of his room.  The reflective waves running down the walls like seagulls of light, with the rhythmic gurgling sound and it's occasional splash of the Clown, or the Hoomah swooping into the pebbly bottom to scoop up some pebbles for spitting making the sound "ccchhhhh" --cachinging  like a distant underwater register.  The tank’s nocturne sound was therapeutic to the boy.

                      Among waking up, and being greeted by his sparkling treasure tank--that was always of the faintest light in the morning due to the grey skies of Mass coming through every portal to lessen the tropical spectrum-- the boy would render his salutations " Good morning my Hoomah.....good morning Tang, my Damsel, and your majesty Queen Angel.....and so forth.  Until the scream would come to get him, and he would walk briskly past the empty room and the looming family pictures of strangers.  His mother put him to work that day, to "pay for the fish tank" but really to buy her a new cocktail dress for her nightly forays.  The boy did not care, the tank was his sun, emitting through the bleak skies of Mass, and even if the tank was reduced to a haze by the overcast of his life, it only added a log to the fire that was the tropical world at night, in turn making him welcome the dismal day.
                  On a day, when the overcast was so thick, he felt he could not picture his rectangular orb waiting for him at night. He had trouble remembering what houses to deliver the paper.  He delivered to the same house three times.  Newspapers seemed to disappear in his hands, due to their color relation to the sky.   Leaves were falling from the trees—butterfly like—he went to catch one, he missed--a first. For Sake could walk through dense thorned brambles and avoid every barb, as a knight in combat or someone’s whose heart felt the painful sting of the barb before.  He would stand under a tree in late fall, and roll around to avoid every falling leaf, and pierce them to the ground deftly with a stick fashioned as a sword.  He could slither between snow flakes, almost like a fish nimbly avoiding small flakes.  
                  After he finished his paper-route , he went to his usual spot under an oak tree to fence with falling leaves.  As the other boys walked by and poked fun he would stall his imagination, and look to the brown landscape of the dry fall.  The crisp brown leaves of the trees were sword shapes to him.  He held the battle ax shape of the oak leaf over his eye held up by the stick it was pierced through, and spied the woodline through the sinus of the oak leaf lobe.  The brown white speckled scenery, were all trying to hide behind eachother by blending in bleakfully; he pretended the leaf was Hector’s helmet from the Illiad—donned over his eyes.
“ Whatchya doing Sake?” asked a young girl named Summer.  Sake only mumbled something nervously and stood there.  And a pretty Summer passed on after Sake once again denied himself of her pretty company.  He looked to the woodline again, a mist was now concealing the tall apical trees.  It now looked like the brown woodland was not trying to retreat behind eachother in fall concealment, but trying to emerge forth out of the greyness to say "save us."

“ Damgf” he uttered, and could not even grasp a word correctly.  His head lifted to the sky repeatedly, there was no orb, and the shadows were looming larger than ever; fractioned shadows from tree branches were forming scythes all over the ground.
             He entered the large shadow that was his front door, into the house that rose high into the sky, with the simplicity of Stonehenge.  He climbed the rickety petrified stairs and went down the hall.  Grey light had spotlighted every frame on the wall.  He looked into the empty room, nothingness, then his room, the tank seemed at its faintest, and it was nearing twilight.  He walked past the tank to look out the w
Haberdashery hauberk harbinger harangue equilibrist, harpy harsh hast severities.
Inane inert inertia innate, juxtaposition maenad ethos affinities.
Putrid quasi queasy pathos, emanate imminent perdition acerbities.

Agnate aggregate anathema android amalgamated, predication contract.
Glutton paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts.
Ambidextrous amatory prelude amaze, analeptic adrenergic analgesia analytics extract.  Annex annul.  

Clairaudience clairvoyant omnipresence presage, omnipotent omnificent omniscience.
Pantheism parapet paradigm intuition, prognosticating prosthesis prediction.
Prolific profuseness profundity prosaic, nimbus nimiety nitty gritty, intrados rubato.

Venerable divinatory deity deify veneration, delineate demagoguery ecstasy, agonist agog.
Dream gleam cream seam beam team, serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean.
Empiricise the existentialisms in the demagoguery of godhead aspiration.
Corporeal anaclitic apex inveterate embezzlement extroversion, acuity alacrity extortion.
Extraneous extemporaneous, ominous phenomena portrayal spontaneous synchronous, aorist actuator.

Endergonic protensive integration extrapolation interpolations investiture elicits.
Scenario synopsis synthesis syncopation, harmony rhymes rhythm.
Synchronous transition transposition interlude, summerial derivation cognition.
                                                      ­­­                                                               ­ ­ ­              
Irk-ness ire aerie altruism allegorical, autonomous avarice oscillating ostracism.
Pandemonium obdurate temerity impunity, impending preponderance onus, numinous illuminism quintessential frolic.
Amorous ardent argent arduous enamor endear, plenary putschist volatile phatic.
Conveyor controvert deft mesmeric deification deist dissertation.
Drastic premise portent pervasive embellish, elusive enhance enchant, engender enthrall.
Perpetuation euphenic euthenics, exude emote concoct recalcitrance regalia, irrefragable preternatural ne plus ultra prurient.
Vernaculars opulent myriad, aesthetic stratagem venial vexatious, astral projection conjuring levity apothegms.

Incite epistemological illuminism, accoutrements umbrage ultraism incognito trajectory extant.
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive, heuristic manumission exigency.
Ostensible proclivity prodigious querulous, rambunctious repertoire rigmarole scenic schism sooth.
Ascribe arsenal crucial critical, abhorrent abstinence blatancy berserk, alacritous celerity brogue.
Ceremonial chicanery dynamism fealty, indefatigable incontrovertible ingenuity ingratiate inimical impugn.
Innovate integrity intricate invective convolution, licentious metaphor convection obeisance.
Splurge-ness spry sporadic sprawl, spurious staunch succinct stymie tacit, irate tirade treatise vehement escapade tedium.

Probity irascibly veracious audacity mendacity gumption.
Paphian peccavi preternatural proclivity gesticulation articulation prestidigitation.
Fantastication fantasia fabulist façade, glimmer glisten translucent refulgence.
Subliminally subjunctive nostalgic allusion analogies eidetic’s mnemonics.
Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity fatidic.
Adroit agile nimble tactile acuity prescience capacity intrigue.
Unadulteratedly fornicatious fabrications, portentous ethereal etiquette.
Nose agnate somatology morphology metamorphic, cognition epistemology pragmatics.
Ontological ontogeny causality exigence integumence equivocal.
Innocuous noumenal verity ***** affectation intentions.

Adumbrate intimate obfuscate preterite rendition intimidate.
Logistical tactician spatiotemporal terrestrial equestrian telemetries, physicality’s terrene traverse tellurian terrain.
Vaunt-ness verve’s lucidly illusive, intrepid yare’s predilection predication.
Apriori a posteriori apostrophe shards shroud, innately inert inherency interstitial endemics.                  

Irk-ness ire Zen, graffiti mantra mantis, diminutive minutia iotas inductive interpolation asperities.
Hypercritically mitigating dialectics hypotaxis.
Vituperatively vociferous eerie strident irrefragable orotund  sonorous felicities.
Diacritical diction dharma apomixis.
Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.

Demarcate mirador bartizan panorama, stalwart bastion bulwark tableau, dexterous gargoyle disguise gimmick camouflage.
Decipher coercible coalesce corrupt costume counselor chameleon charlatan chaperone entourage.
Cryptic evocative emulation scenarios siren skeptic, cynical demonic gremlin greaves curtilage.
Zesty zingy zippy zeal zenithal azimuth elaborate elliptical empathy endeavor entity entice.

Clambering clamorous clangor strategic systematic propagate prolific, wield wile treatise expose’.
Aural auspice austerity  axiom conscribe, perplex beleaguer beggary, coax cacophony clout, concatenate chronology.
Erumpent erudition evident evil evert, extol fervor flinty florid, fructify impromptu innuendo juncture.
Kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent, precious precess predetermined predatory predicament, gyro gyre.
Horizon hornswoggle huckster, hokey hoot ornery honkies.

Horologist hackamore relative rationality.
Decorum dastardly dazzle deceit, demolish demur, annihilate denigrate.
Armature arcade doughty, panacea parallax serendipity servant serenade.
Personification of sartorial perfection, picturesque visage of spectral grace.
Cosmic enigma rational relativity.

Housebreak huckster squabble brash, hovel huff.
Ghastly gruesome grotesque grisly groaty gnarly grotto grouch compunction.
Caustic cavernous celibate catatonic phonics, apex crux axis matrix cortex cephalic.
Blasphemous farcical fugue-ness and estranged ensemble orchestration acoustics.
Rendition: various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.
Conjugation coercion junction function, adjunct conjunction conjecture.
Concoct deontology ontogeny, ontological enclitic osteopathy.
Anticipate angary amentia, tiercel theocracy.
Phrenic sensorium sentiment paragon tangible.
Covert aspersion avidity, coherent avid avarice, allegory allocate amatory prelude annex annul.

Tantamount telepathy tantalize talisman talesman, prerogative presumptive judicature.
Subpoena parameter perimeter peripherals prophylaxis protocol.
Real deal seal, sail bail, bailiff rake-ness rail.
Yoni yore yare, leeward lecher leer lingam, menagerie melee hyperbolic milieu thesis, métier quintessential fulham.
Dangle wrangle mangle jangle tangle angle.
Hysterically delirious zany nertsy bonkers bluster boggle.
Gyrate, austere askance obliquely, aspire assail askew.

Cosmic origins metamorphosis implosion contractions revision, blond entropy catalyst.
Cataclysm catastrophe holocaust trauma, inefficacy ineffable expiate.
Chaos cognizant conceive dialectic dictates in extremis extremity meld nuance.
Cryptic cipher circuit citadel clairvoyant sequitur.
Cajole fictitious fiery finesse, invoke fulmination gouts clout, curtilage endeavor iterative itinerary.
Ersatz fiat fulcrum fulgurous indemnify indigenous infernal infidel iniquitous.
Electroacoustics ciphony  Electra complex lore, occipital ubiquity synch.
Psychosomatic psychokinesis cybernetics, penumbral platitude platonic proxy photic.
Assimilate stigma perspicacious, astute asunder atman pulchritudinous.
        
Decadent arrogant pompously bombastic blatant flagrant chaparral.
Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abruptness.
Swarthy beastly antithetical anathema ******* belligerent, savvy irate berserk-ness tirade.
Ulterior aghast agitator incongruous dire, perdurable peremptory primacy arbitrate zealot.
Cantankerously sorcerous insidiously sinister alchemy cauldron, pernicious visceral pathogenic, virulence truculence.
Ideational hideously horrible horrendously heinous ghastly abysmal abjection.
Perpetuity pervade rampart ransack oblation erogenous scarp lambent actuarial arbitrage.
Exserted protuberant pseudopodia actuator, odious aorist militantly mercenary.

Wingspread wiry wiseacre wherewithal rapacity, implicit important juxtaposition.
Machismo equilibrist machinations, kinesiology kleptomaniac knell physique.
Ribaldry rigmarole rhubarb, risqué rive rollick.
Demeanor kamikaze kerf, megalomania misanthropies modus operandi genocidal xenophobic.
Heredity heritage heresy legacy, pseudonym multifarious nefarious nemesis.
Sepulcher stratagem pantheism parapet paradigm, psychosis neophyte, paragon proselyte.
Pilferous wheedling finagler, plunderous pillaging usurper, longevous loquacity lottery.
Rhapsody rhetoric rote raconteur newfangled nocturnal nonchalant sycophant.
Morose morsel moribund, lurid luscious lyricism lucidity lucrative.
Creative cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive.
Aphorism euphemism hegira to xanadu carousing marauder syllogism.
Swell surge flow flux craw crux, virago monad chaos character charisma.
Heuristic cavalier humeral, meager demonstrative anarchy iconoclasm, apropos ergo ipso-facto.
Plenary plenipotentiary omniscience presage, omnipotent directive ubiquity emanations.
Nous agnate ontological ontogeny, exegesis peroration.
Abeyance, exotically ****** quixotic ecstatically emphatic fanatic.
Orchestration rendition unicorn railway mainsail, awry askew askance.

Canny cogent fecund erudite sagacious sequacious conjuring mentality introjection conjugation coercions.
Avant-garde temporal abstract, scenario synopsis eclectic synectics.
Synaptic syntax syndrome aspersion, quagmire quandary poshly plush.
Physicality ***** pictorial, picturesque glyph, debauchery deviant profane ***** vicarious assertion exorbitance.
Mystical silhouette sojourn consortium sabbat conclave liaison, soiree tryst rendezvous symposium excursion compendium.
Incarnate cephalic phantasmagoria proximity parameter phantasm epitomize transitive transcendental syntactic semantics.
Resplendent radiant ephemeral effulgence translucent incandescent luster effluence, reflectively refractive azure opulence effusion.
Contentious pretentiously extravagant eccentric intransigent pedantic antics.
Guidon guile homogenous hovering imagination immaturity, exogamy incorporeity ideologies.
Pique poignant piquant puissant quiescence, obstreperously abstruse vagary plausibility’s cause.
Vivid intangible impetus instinct intrigue, livid lurid allusion.
Autonomous preterite discrepancy amendment emendations, transcendent accession ascensional in absentia expurgation exculpation.
I know this is getting redundant but I feel this is the best I ever wrote!!
Zoomorphic zoolatry's demagoguery to élan-vital.  Ethology's entelechy to social contiguity apotheosis' ****** matrix.  Vicarious recalcitrance!!!
Haberdashery hauberk harbinger harangue equilibrist, harpy harsh hast severities.
Inane inert inertia innate, juxtaposition maenad ethos affinities.
Putrid quasi queasy pathos, emanate imminent perdition acerbities.

Agnate aggregate anathema android amalgamated, predication contract.
Glutton paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts.
Ambidextrous amatory prelude amaze, analeptic adrenergic analgesia analytics extract.

Clairaudience clairvoyant omnipresence presage, omnipotent omnificent omniscience.
Pantheism parapet paradigm intuition, prognosticating prosthesis prediction.
Prolific profuseness profundity prosaic, nimbus nimiety nitty gritty, intrados rubato.

Venerable divinatory deity deify veneration, delineate demagoguery ecstasy, agonist agog.
Dream gleam cream seam beam team, serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean.
Empiricise the existentialisms in the demagoguery of godhead aspiration.
Corporeal anaclitic apex inveterate embezzlement extroversion, acuity alacrity extortion.
Extraneous extemporaneous, ominous phenomena portrayal spontaneous synchronous, aorist actuator.

Endergonic protensive integration extrapolation interpolations investiture elicits.
Scenario synopsis synthesis syncopation, harmony rhymes rhythm.
Synchronous transition transposition interlude, summerial derivation cognition.
                                                      ­                                                                 ­             
Irk-ness ire aerie altruism allegorical, autonomous avarice oscillating ostracism.
Pandemonium obdurate temerity impunity, impending preponderance onus, numinous illuminism quintessential frolic.
Amorous ardent argent arduous enamor endear, plenary putschist volatile phatic.
Conveyor controvert deft mesmeric deification deist dissertation.
Drastic premise portent pervasive embellish, elusive enhance enchant, engender enthrall.
Perpetuation euphenic euthenics, exude emote concoct recalcitrance regalia, irrefragable preternatural ne plus ultra prurient.
Vernaculars opulent myriad, aesthetic stratagem venial vexatious, astral projection conjuring levity apothegms.

Incite epistemological illuminism, accoutrements umbrage ultraism incognito trajectory extant.
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive, heuristic manumission exigency.
Ostensible proclivity prodigious querulous, rambunctious repertoire rigmarole scenic schism sooth.
Ascribe arsenal crucial critical, abhorrent abstinence blatancy berserk, alacritous celerity brogue.
Ceremonial chicanery dynamism fealty, indefatigable incontrovertible ingenuity ingratiate inimical impugn.
Innovate integrity intricate invective convolution, licentious metaphor convection obeisance.
Splurge-ness spry sporadic sprawl, spurious staunch succinct stymie tacit, irate tirade treatise vehement escapade tedium.

Probity irascibly veracious audacity mendacity gumption.
Paphian peccavi preternatural proclivity gesticulation articulation prestidigitation.
Fantastication fantasia fabulist façade, glimmer glisten translucent refulgence.
Subliminally subjunctive nostalgic allusion analogies eidetic’s mnemonics.
Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity fatidic.
Adroit agile nimble tactile acuity prescience capacity intrigue.
Unadulteratedly fornicatious fabrications, portentous ethereal etiquette.
Nose agnate somatology morphology metamorphic, cognition epistemology pragmatics.
Ontological ontogeny causality exigence integumence equivocal.
Innocuous noumenal verity ***** affectation intentions.

Adumbrate intimate obfuscate preterite rendition intimidate.
Logistical tactician spatiotemporal terrestrial equestrian telemetries, physicality’s terrene traverse tellurian terrain.
Vaunt-ness verve’s lucidly illusive, intrepid yare’s predilection predication.
Apriori a posteriori apostrophe shards shroud, innately inert inherency interstitial endemics.                  

Irk-ness ire Zen, graffiti mantra mantis, diminutive minutia iotas inductive interpolation asperities.
Hypercritically mitigating dialectics hypotaxis.
Vituperatively vociferous eerie strident irrefragable orotund  sonorous felicities.
Diacritical diction dharma apomixis.
Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.

Demarcate mirador bartizan panorama, stalwart bastion bulwark tableau, dexterous gargoyle disguise gimmick camouflage.
Decipher coercible coalesce corrupt costume counselor chameleon charlatan chaperone entourage.
Cryptic evocative emulation scenarios siren skeptic, cynical demonic gremlin greaves curtilage.
Zesty zingy zippy zeal zenithal azimuth elaborate elliptical empathy endeavor entity entice.

Clambering clamorous clangor strategic systematic propagate prolific, wield wile treatise expose’.
Aural auspice austerity  axiom conscribe, perplex beleaguer beggary, coax cacophony clout, concatenate chronology.
Erumpent erudition evident evil evert, extol fervor flinty florid, fructify impromptu innuendo juncture.
Kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent, precious precess predetermined predatory predicament, gyro gyre.
Horizon hornswoggle huckster, hokey hoot ornery honkies.

Horologist hackamore relative rationality.
Decorum dastardly dazzle deceit, demolish demur, annihilate denigrate.
Armature arcade doughty, panacea parallax serendipity servant serenade.
Personification of sartorial perfection, picturesque visage of spectral grace.
Cosmic enigma rational relativity.

Housebreak huckster squabble brash, hovel huff.
Ghastly gruesome grotesque grisly groaty gnarly grotto grouch compunction.
Caustic cavernous celibate catatonic phonics, apex crux axis matrix cortex cephalic.
Blasphemous farcical fugue-ness and estranged ensemble orchestration acoustics.
Rendition: various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.
Conjugation coercion junction function, adjunct conjunction conjecture.
Concoct deontology ontogeny, ontological enclitic osteopathy.
Anticipate angary amentia, tiercel theocracy.
Phrenic sensorium sentiment paragon tangible.
Covert aspersion avidity, coherent avid avarice, allegory allocate amatory prelude annex annul.

Tantamount telepathy tantalize talisman talesman, prerogative presumptive judicature.
Subpoena parameter perimeter peripherals prophylaxis protocol.
Real deal seal, sail bail, bailiff rake-ness rail.
Yoni yore yare, leeward lecher leer lingam, menagerie melee hyperbolic milieu thesis, métier quintessential fulham.
Dangle wrangle mangle jangle tangle angle.
Hysterically delirious zany nertsy bonkers bluster boggle.
Gyrate, austere askance obliquely, aspire assail askew.

Cosmic origins metamorphosis implosion contractions revision, blond entropy catalyst.
Cataclysm catastrophe holocaust trauma, inefficacy ineffable expiate.
Chaos cognizant conceive dialectic dictates in extremis extremity meld nuance.
Cryptic cipher circuit citadel clairvoyant sequitur.
Cajole fictitious fiery finesse, invoke fulmination gouts clout, curtilage endeavor iterative itinerary.
Ersatz fiat fulcrum fulgurous indemnify indigenous infernal infidel iniquitous.
Electroacoustic ciphony  Electra complex lore, occipital ubiquity synch.
Psychosomatic psychokinesis cybernetics, penumbral platitude platonic proxy photic.
Assimilate stigma perspicacious, astute asunder atman pulchritudinous.
        
Decadent arrogant pompously bombastic blatant flagrant chaparral.
Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abruptness.
Swarthy beastly antithetical anathema ******* belligerent, savvy irate berserk-ness tirade.
Ulterior aghast agitator incongruous dire, perdurable peremptory primacy arbitrate zealot.
Cantankerously sorcerous insidiously sinister alchemy cauldron, pernicious visceral pathogenic, virulence truculence.
Ideational hideously horrible horrendously heinous ghastly abysmal abjection.
Perpetuity pervade rampart ransack oblation erogenous scarp lambent actuarial arbitrage.
Exserted protuberant pseudopodia actuator, odious aorist militantly mercenary.

Wingspread wiry wiseacre wherewithal rapacity, implicit important juxtaposition.
Machismo equilibrist machinations, kinesiology kleptomaniac knell physique.
Ribaldry rigmarole rhubarb, risqué rive rollick.
Demeanor kamikaze kerf, megalomania misanthropies modus operandi genocidal xenophobic.
Heredity heritage heresy legacy, pseudonym multifarious nefarious nemesis.
Sepulcher stratagem pantheism parapet paradigm, psychosis neophyte, paragon proselyte.
Pilferous wheedling finagler, plunderous pillaging usurper, longevous loquacity lottery.
Rhapsody rhetoric rote raconteur newfangled nocturnal nonchalant sycophant.
Morose morsel moribund, lurid luscious lyricism lucidity lucrative.
Creative cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive.
Aphorism euphemism hegira to xanadu carousing marauder syllogism.
Swell surge flow flux craw crux, virago monad chaos character charisma.
Heuristic cavalier humeral, meager demonstrative anarchy iconoclasm, apropos ergo ipso-facto.
Plenary plenipotentiary omniscience presage, omnipotent directive ubiquity emanations.
Nous agnate ontological ontogeny, exegesis peroration.
Abeyance, exotically ****** quixotic ecstatically emphatic fanatic.
Orchestration rendition unicorn railway mainsail, awry askew askance.

Canny cogent fecund erudite sagacious sequacious conjuring mentality introjection conjugation coercions.
Avant-garde temporal abstract, scenario synopsis eclectic synectics.
Synaptic syntax syndrome aspersion, quagmire quandary poshly plush.
Physicality ***** pictorial, picturesque glyph, debauchery deviant profane ***** vicarious assertion exorbitance.
Mystical silhouette sojourn consortium sabbat conclave liaison, soiree tryst rendezvous symposium excursion compendium.
Incarnate cephalic phantasmagoria proximity parameter phantasm epitomize transitive transcendental syntactic semantics.
Resplendent radiant ephemeral effulgence translucent incandescent luster effluence, reflectively refractive azure opulence effusion.
Contentious pretentiously extravagant eccentric intransigent pedantic antics.
Guidon guile homogenous hovering imagination immaturity, exogamy incorporeity ideologies.
Pique poignant piquant puissant quiescence, obstreperously abstruse vagary plausibility’s cause.
Vivid intangible impetus instinct intrigue, livid lurid allusion.
Autonomous preterite discrepancy amendment emendations, transcendent accession ascensional in absentia expurgation exculpation.
I'm so lonely. Nobody loves me unless I over simplify. I think I'll take my martial arts trainee (Jaded seal ordinand) down to the corner and see if I can find a likely suspect to flash my badge at.
ryn Oct 2014
You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.

You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.

You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.

You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...

You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.

You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...

You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!
Image of someone we all know...
We're all secretly thinking...
Even if it hasn't come to show
I chose to put it down in writing. :)

Hope this works!
I

In that November off Tehuantepec,
The slopping of the sea grew still one night
And in the morning summer hued the deck

And made one think of rosy chocolate
And gilt umbrellas. Paradisal green
Gave suavity to the perplexed machine

Of ocean, which like limpid water lay.
Who, then, in that ambrosial latitude
Out of the light evolved the morning blooms,

Who, then, evolved the sea-blooms from the clouds
Diffusing balm in that Pacific calm?
C'etait mon enfant, mon bijou, mon ame.

The sea-clouds whitened far below the calm
And moved, as blooms move, in the swimming green
And in its watery radiance, while the hue

Of heaven in an antique reflection rolled
Round those flotillas. And sometimes the sea
Poured brilliant iris on the glistening blue.

                        II

In that November off Tehuantepec
The slopping of the sea grew still one night.
At breakfast jelly yellow streaked the deck

And made one think of chop-house chocolate
And sham umbrellas. And a sham-like green
Capped summer-seeming on the tense machine

Of ocean, which in sinister flatness lay.
Who, then, beheld the rising of the clouds
That strode submerged in that malevolent sheen,

Who saw the mortal massives of the blooms
Of water moving on the water-floor?
C'etait mon frere du ciel, ma vie, mon or.

The gongs rang loudly as the windy booms
Hoo-hooed it in the darkened ocean-blooms.
The gongs grew still. And then blue heaven spread

Its crystalline pendentives on the sea
And the macabre of the water-glooms
In an enormous undulation fled.

                        III

In that November off Tehuantepec,
The slopping of the sea grew still one night
And a pale silver patterned on the deck

And made one think of porcelain chocolate
And pied umbrellas. An uncertain green,
Piano-polished, held the tranced machine

Of ocean, as a prelude holds and holds,
Who, seeing silver petals of white blooms
Unfolding in the water, feeling sure

Of the milk within the saltiest spurge, heard, then,
The sea unfolding in the sunken clouds?
Oh! C'etait mon extase et mon amour.

So deeply sunken were they that the shrouds,
The shrouding shadows, made the petals black
Until the rolling heaven made them blue,

A blue beyond the rainy hyacinth,
And smiting the crevasses of the leaves
Deluged the ocean with a sapphire blue.

                        IV

In that November off Tehuantepec
The night-long slopping of the sea grew still.
A mallow morning dozed upon the deck

And made one think of musky chocolate
And frail umbrellas. A too-fluent green
Suggested malice in the dry machine

Of ocean, pondering dank stratagem.
Who then beheld the figures of the clouds
Like blooms secluded in the thick marine?

Like blooms? Like damasks that were shaken off
From the loosed girdles in the spangling must.
C'etait ma foi, la nonchalance divine.

The nakedness would rise and suddenly turn
Salt masks of beard and mouths of bellowing,
Would--But more suddenly the heaven rolled

Its bluest sea-clouds in the thinking green,
And the nakedness became the broadest blooms,
Mile-mallows that a mallow sun cajoled.

                        V

In that November off Tehuantepec
Night stilled the slopping of the sea.
The day came, bowing and voluble, upon the deck,

Good clown... One thought of Chinese chocolate
And large umbrellas. And a motley green
Followed the drift of the obese machine

Of ocean, perfected in indolence.
What pistache one, ingenious and droll,
Beheld the sovereign clouds as jugglery

And the sea as turquoise-turbaned *****, neat
At tossing saucers--cloudy-conjuring sea?
C'etait mon esprit batard, l'ignominie.

The sovereign clouds came clustering. The conch
Of loyal conjuration *******. The wind
Of green blooms turning crisped the motley hue

To clearing opalescence. Then the sea
And heaven rolled as one and from the two
Came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue.
Stephen E Yocum Jul 2018
Spring is the awaited child,
seeds to plant, plans to explore,
conjuring promise and renewal,
That awakens our soul.

Summer inspires with long
sunny days basking in the
embrace of green crops growing,
relief from heat under leafy trees,
leisurely nights of clean skies,
bright stars on high to infinity.

Fall comes as a warning beacon,
days of long shadows,
cool nights with chill breeze,
bedecked trees
in reds and yellow.
The report of hunters guns
from the depths of the forest.

Winter's a prelude to gloom,
short days, low sun when it
appears, wind-chills that burn.
Snow to shovel, ice to befuddle.
Conjuring envy and impatience
for the return of Spring.

So the seasons flow
one into another,
while every year lived
the cycles grow shorter,
with no guarantees of
how many more may follow.
M Nov 2014
Drowning my heart with his eyes, conjuring passion that never dies, so irresistible the pair of green, engraved on my mind a beautiful scene, bright, serene and filled with mystery, amazing how it sparks the chemistry, merely gazing at them makes me cheer, gives me hope and sets my mind clear, brilliance glaring from the mellow iris, looking through them is truly a bliss.
This goes out to you. You know who you are.
ConnectHook Feb 2016
by John Greenleaf Whittier  (1807 – 1892)

“As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the Divine Light of the Sun, but also by our common Wood fire: and as the celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth the same.”

        COR. AGRIPPA,
           Occult Philosophy, Book I. chap. v.


Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow; and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.


                                       EMERSON

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, —
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd’s-grass for the cows;
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold’s pole of birch,
The **** his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.

Unwarmed by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag, wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the wingàd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature’s geometric signs,
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below, —
A universe of sky and snow!
The old familiar sights of ours
Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
Or garden-wall, or belt of wood;
A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
A fenceless drift what once was road;
The bridle-post an old man sat
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof,
In its slant spendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa’s leaning miracle.

A prompt, decisive man, no breath
Our father wasted: “Boys, a path!”
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
Count such a summons less than joy?)
Our buskins on our feet we drew;
With mittened hands, and caps drawn low,
To guard our necks and ears from snow,
We cut the solid whiteness through.
And, where the drift was deepest, made
A tunnel walled and overlaid
With dazzling crystal: we had read
Of rare Aladdin’s wondrous cave,
And to our own his name we gave,
With many a wish the luck were ours
To test his lamp’s supernal powers.
We reached the barn with merry din,
And roused the prisoned brutes within.
The old horse ****** his long head out,
And grave with wonder gazed about;
The **** his ***** greeting said,
And forth his speckled harem led;
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,
And mild reproach of hunger looked;
The hornëd patriarch of the sheep,
Like Egypt’s Amun roused from sleep,
Shook his sage head with gesture mute,
And emphasized with stamp of foot.

All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicëd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.

As night drew on, and, from the crest
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,
The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank
From sight beneath the smothering bank,
We piled, with care, our nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back, —
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art

The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;
While radiant with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.
The crane and pendent trammels showed,
The Turks’ heads on the andirons glowed;
While childish fancy, prompt to tell
The meaning of the miracle,
Whispered the old rhyme: “Under the tree,
When fire outdoors burns merrily,
There the witches are making tea.”

The moon above the eastern wood
Shone at its full; the hill-range stood
Transfigured in the silver flood,
Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine
Took shadow, or the sombre green
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black
Against the whiteness at their back.
For such a world and such a night
Most fitting that unwarming light,
Which only seemed where’er it fell
To make the coldness visible.

Shut in from all the world without,
We sat the clean-winged hearth about,
Content to let the north-wind roar
In baffled rage at pane and door,
While the red logs before us beat
The frost-line back with tropic heat;
And ever, when a louder blast
Shook beam and rafter as it passed,
The merrier up its roaring draught
The great throat of the chimney laughed;
The house-dog on his paws outspread
Laid to the fire his drowsy head,
The cat’s dark silhouette on the wall
A couchant tiger’s seemed to fall;
And, for the winter fireside meet,
Between the andirons’ straddling feet,
The mug of cider simmered slow,
The apples sputtered in a row,
And, close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October’s wood.

What matter how the night behaved?
What matter how the north-wind raved?
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow
Could quench our hearth-fire’s ruddy glow.
O Time and Change! — with hair as gray
As was my sire’s that winter day,
How strange it seems, with so much gone
Of life and love, to still live on!
Ah, brother! only I and thou
Are left of all that circle now, —
The dear home faces whereupon
That fitful firelight paled and shone.
Henceforward, listen as we will,
The voices of that hearth are still;
Look where we may, the wide earth o’er,
Those lighted faces smile no more.

We tread the paths their feet have worn,
We sit beneath their orchard trees,
We hear, like them, the hum of bees
And rustle of the bladed corn;
We turn the pages that they read,
Their written words we linger o’er,
But in the sun they cast no shade,
No voice is heard, no sign is made,
No step is on the conscious floor!
Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust,
(Since He who knows our need is just,)
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees!
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!

We sped the time with stories old,
Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told,
Or stammered from our school-book lore
“The Chief of Gambia’s golden shore.”
How often since, when all the land
Was clay in Slavery’s shaping hand,
As if a far-blown trumpet stirred
Dame Mercy Warren’s rousing word:
“Does not the voice of reason cry,
Claim the first right which Nature gave,
From the red scourge of ******* to fly,
Nor deign to live a burdened slave!”
Our father rode again his ride
On Memphremagog’s wooded side;
Sat down again to moose and samp
In trapper’s hut and Indian camp;
Lived o’er the old idyllic ease
Beneath St. François’ hemlock-trees;
Again for him the moonlight shone
On Norman cap and bodiced zone;
Again he heard the violin play
Which led the village dance away.
And mingled in its merry whirl
The grandam and the laughing girl.
Or, nearer home, our steps he led
Where Salisbury’s level marshes spread
Mile-wide as flies the laden bee;
Where merry mowers, hale and strong,
Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along
The low green prairies of the sea.
We shared the fishing off Boar’s Head,
And round the rocky Isles of Shoals
The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals;
The chowder on the sand-beach made,
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot,
With spoons of clam-shell from the ***.
We heard the tales of witchcraft old,
And dream and sign and marvel told
To sleepy listeners as they lay
Stretched idly on the salted hay,
Adrift along the winding shores,
When favoring breezes deigned to blow
The square sail of the gundelow
And idle lay the useless oars.

Our mother, while she turned her wheel
Or run the new-knit stocking-heel,
Told how the Indian hordes came down
At midnight on Concheco town,
And how her own great-uncle bore
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore.
Recalling, in her fitting phrase,
So rich and picturesque and free
(The common unrhymed poetry
Of simple life and country ways,)
The story of her early days, —
She made us welcome to her home;
Old hearths grew wide to give us room;
We stole with her a frightened look
At the gray wizard’s conjuring-book,
The fame whereof went far and wide
Through all the simple country side;
We heard the hawks at twilight play,
The boat-horn on Piscataqua,
The loon’s weird laughter far away;
We fished her little trout-brook, knew
What flowers in wood and meadow grew,
What sunny hillsides autumn-brown
She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down,
Saw where in sheltered cove and bay,
The ducks’ black squadron anchored lay,
And heard the wild-geese calling loud
Beneath the gray November cloud.
Then, haply, with a look more grave,
And soberer tone, some tale she gave
From painful Sewel’s ancient tome,
Beloved in every Quaker home,
Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom,
Or Chalkley’s Journal, old and quaint, —
Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint! —
Who, when the dreary calms prevailed,
And water-**** and bread-cask failed,
And cruel, hungry eyes pursued
His portly presence mad for food,
With dark hints muttered under breath
Of casting lots for life or death,

Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies,
To be himself the sacrifice.
Then, suddenly, as if to save
The good man from his living grave,
A ripple on the water grew,
A school of porpoise flashed in view.
“Take, eat,” he said, “and be content;
These fishes in my stead are sent
By Him who gave the tangled ram
To spare the child of Abraham.”
Our uncle, innocent of books,
Was rich in lore of fields and brooks,
The ancient teachers never dumb
Of Nature’s unhoused lyceum.
In moons and tides and weather wise,
He read the clouds as prophecies,
And foul or fair could well divine,
By many an occult hint and sign,
Holding the cunning-warded keys
To all the woodcraft mysteries;
Himself to Nature’s heart so near
v That all her voices in his ear
Of beast or bird had meanings clear,
Like Apollonius of old,
Who knew the tales the sparrows told,
Or Hermes, who interpreted
What the sage cranes of Nilus said;
A simple, guileless, childlike man,
Content to live where life began;
Strong only on his native grounds,
The little world of sights and sounds
Whose girdle was the parish bounds,
Whereof his fondly partial pride
The common features magnified,
As Surrey hills to mountains grew
In White of Selborne’s loving view, —
He told how teal and loon he shot,
And how the eagle’s eggs he got,
The feats on pond and river done,
The prodigies of rod and gun;
Till, warming with the tales he told,
Forgotten was the outside cold,
The bitter wind unheeded blew,
From ripening corn the pigeons flew,
The partridge drummed i’ the wood, the mink
Went fishing down the river-brink.
In fields with bean or clover gay,
The woodchuck, like a hermit gray,
Peered from the doorway of his cell;
The muskrat plied the mason’s trade,
And tier by tier his mud-walls laid;
And from the shagbark overhead
The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell.

Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer
And voice in dreams I see and hear, —
The sweetest woman ever Fate
Perverse denied a household mate,
Who, lonely, homeless, not the less
Found peace in love’s unselfishness,
And welcome wheresoe’er she went,
A calm and gracious element,
Whose presence seemed the sweet income
And womanly atmosphere of home, —
Called up her girlhood memories,
The huskings and the apple-bees,
The sleigh-rides and the summer sails,
Weaving through all the poor details
And homespun warp of circumstance
A golden woof-thread of romance.
For well she kept her genial mood
And simple faith of maidenhood;
Before her still a cloud-land lay,
The mirage loomed across her way;
The morning dew, that dries so soon
With others, glistened at her noon;
Through years of toil and soil and care,
From glossy tress to thin gray hair,
All unprofaned she held apart
The ****** fancies of the heart.
Be shame to him of woman born
Who hath for such but thought of scorn.
There, too, our elder sister plied
Her evening task the stand beside;
A full, rich nature, free to trust,
Truthful and almost sternly just,
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act,
And make her generous thought a fact,
Keeping with many a light disguise
The secret of self-sacrifice.

O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best
That Heaven itself could give thee, — rest,
Rest from all bitter thoughts and things!
How many a poor one’s blessing went
With thee beneath the low green tent
Whose curtain never outward swings!

As one who held herself a part
Of all she saw, and let her heart
Against the household ***** lean,
Upon the motley-braided mat
Our youngest and our dearest sat,
Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes,
Now bathed in the unfading green
And holy peace of Paradise.
Oh, looking from some heavenly hill,
Or from the shade of saintly palms,
Or silver reach of river calms,
Do those large eyes behold me still?
With me one little year ago: —
The chill weight of the winter snow
For months upon her grave has lain;
And now, when summer south-winds blow
And brier and harebell bloom again,
I tread the pleasant paths we trod,
I see the violet-sprinkled sod
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak
The hillside flowers she loved to seek,
Yet following me where’er I went
With dark eyes full of love’s content.
The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills
The air with sweetness; all the hills
Stretch green to June’s unclouded sky;
But still I wait with ear and eye
For something gone which should be nigh,
A loss in all familiar things,
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.
And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
Thy love hath left in trust with me?
And while in life’s late afternoon,
Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
Since near at need the angels are;
And when the sunset gates unbar,
Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

Brisk wielder of the birch and rule,
The master of the district school
Held at the fire his favored place,
Its warm glow lit a laughing face
Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared
The uncertain prophecy of beard.
He teased the mitten-blinded cat,
Played cross-pins on my uncle’s hat,
Sang songs, and told us what befalls
In classic Dartmouth’s college halls.
Born the wild Northern hills among,
From whence his yeoman father wrung
By patient toil subsistence scant,
Not competence and yet not want,
He early gained the power to pay
His cheerful, self-reliant way;
Could doff at ease his scholar’s gown
To peddle wares from town to town;
Or through the long vacation’s reach
In lonely lowland districts teach,
Where all the droll experience found
At stranger hearths in boarding round,
The moonlit skater’s keen delight,
The sleigh-drive through the frosty night,
The rustic party, with its rough
Accompaniment of blind-man’s-buff,
And whirling-plate, and forfeits paid,
His winter task a pastime made.
Happy the snow-locked homes wherein
He tuned his merry violin,

Or played the athlete in the barn,
Or held the good dame’s winding-yarn,
Or mirth-provoking versions told
Of classic legends rare and old,
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome
Had all the commonplace of home,
And little seemed at best the odds
‘Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods;
Where Pindus-born Arachthus took
The guise of any grist-mill brook,
And dread Olympus at his will
Became a huckleberry hill.

A careless boy that night he seemed;
But at his desk he had the look
And air of one who wisely schemed,
And hostage from the future took
In trainëd thought and lore of book.
Large-brained, clear-eyed, of such as he
Shall Freedom’s young apostles be,
Who, following in War’s ****** trail,
Shall every lingering wrong assail;
All chains from limb and spirit strike,
Uplift the black and white alike;
Scatter before their swift advance
The darkness and the ignorance,
The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth,
Which nurtured Treason’s monstrous growth,
Made ****** pastime, and the hell
Of prison-torture possible;
The cruel lie of caste refute,
Old forms remould, and substitute
For Slavery’s lash the freeman’s will,
For blind routine, wise-handed skill;
A school-house plant on every hill,
Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence
The quick wires of intelligence;
Till North and South together brought
Shall own the same electric thought,
In peace a common flag salute,
And, side by side in labor’s free
And unresentful rivalry,
Harvest the fields wherein they fought.

Another guest that winter night
Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light.
Unmarked by time, and yet not young,
The honeyed music of her tongue
And words of meekness scarcely told
A nature passionate and bold,

Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide,
Its milder features dwarfed beside
Her unbent will’s majestic pride.
She sat among us, at the best,
A not unfeared, half-welcome guest,
Rebuking with her cultured phrase
Our homeliness of words and ways.
A certain pard-like, treacherous grace
Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash,
Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash;
And under low brows, black with night,
Rayed out at times a dangerous light;
The sharp heat-lightnings of her face
Presaging ill to him whom Fate
Condemned to share her love or hate.
A woman tropical, intense
In thought and act, in soul and sense,
She blended in a like degree
The ***** and the devotee,
Revealing with each freak or feint
The temper of Petruchio’s Kate,
The raptures of Siena’s saint.
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist
Had facile power to form a fist;
The warm, dark languish of her eyes
Was never safe from wrath’s surprise.
Brows saintly calm and lips devout
Knew every change of scowl and pout;
And the sweet voice had notes more high
And shrill for social battle-cry.

Since then what old cathedral town
Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown,
What convent-gate has held its lock
Against the challenge of her knock!
Through Smyrna’s plague-hushed thoroughfares,
Up sea-set Malta’s rocky stairs,
Gray olive slopes of hills that hem
Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem,
Or startling on her desert throne
The crazy Queen of Lebanon
With claims fantastic as her own,
Her tireless feet have held their way;
And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray,
She watches under Eastern skies,
With hope each day renewed and fresh,
The Lord’s quick coming in the flesh,
Whereof she dreams and prophesies!
Where’er her troubled path may be,
The Lord’s sweet pity with her go!
The outward wayward life we see,
The hidden springs we may not know.
Nor is it given us to discern
What threads the fatal sisters spun,
Through what ancestral years has run
The sorrow with the woman born,
What forged her cruel chain of moods,
What set her feet in solitudes,
And held the love within her mute,
What mingled madness in the blood,
A life-long discord and annoy,
Water of tears with oil of joy,
And hid within the folded bud
Perversities of flower and fruit.
It is not ours to separate
The tangled skein of will and fate,
To show what metes and bounds should stand
Upon the soul’s debatable land,
And between choice and Providence
Divide the circle of events;
But He who knows our frame is just,
Merciful and compassionate,
And full of sweet assurances
And hope for all the language is,
That He remembereth we are dust!

At last the great logs, crumbling low,
Sent out a dull and duller glow,
The bull’s-eye watch that hung in view,
Ticking its weary circuit through,
Pointed with mutely warning sign
Its black hand to the hour of nine.
That sign the pleasant circle broke:
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke,
Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray,
And laid it tenderly away;
Then roused himself to safely cover
The dull red brands with ashes over.
And while, with care, our mother laid
The work aside, her steps she stayed
One moment, seeking to express
Her grateful sense of happiness
For food and shelter, warmth and health,
And love’s contentment more than wealth,
With simple wishes (not the weak,
Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek,
But such as warm the generous heart,
O’er-prompt to do with Heaven its part)
That none might lack, that bitter night,
For bread and clothing, warmth and light.

Within our beds awhile we heard
The wind that round the gables roared,
With now and then a ruder shock,
Which made our very bedsteads rock.
We heard the loosened clapboards tost,
The board-nails snapping in the frost;
And on us, through the unplastered wall,
Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall.
But sleep stole on, as sleep will do
When hearts are light and life is new;
Faint and more faint the murmurs grew,
Till in the summer-land of dreams
They softened to the sound of streams,
Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars,
And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
Of merry voices high and clear;
And saw the teamsters drawing near
To break the drifted highways out.
Down the long hillside treading slow
We saw the half-buried oxen go,
Shaking the snow from heads uptost,
Their straining nostrils white with frost.
Before our door the straggling train
Drew up, an added team to gain.
The elders threshed their hands a-cold,
Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes
From lip to lip; the younger folks
Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled,
Then toiled again the cavalcade
O’er windy hill, through clogged ravine,
And woodland paths that wound between
Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed.
From every barn a team afoot,
At every house a new recruit,
Where, drawn by Nature’s subtlest law,
Haply the watchful young men saw
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls
And curious eyes of merry girls,
Lifting their hands in mock defence
Against the snow-ball’s compliments,
And reading in each missive tost
The charm with Eden never lost.
We heard once more the sleigh-bells’ sound;
And, following where the teamsters led,
The wise old Doctor went his round,
Just pausing at our door to say,
In the brief autocratic way
Of one who, prompt at Duty’s call,
Was free to urge her claim on all,
That some poor neighbor sick abed
At night our mother’s aid would need.
For, one in generous thought and deed,
What mattered in the sufferer’s sight
The Quaker matron’s inward light,
The Doctor’s mail of Calvin’s creed?
All hearts confess the saints elect
Who, twain in faith, in love agree,
And melt not in an acid sect
The Christian pearl of charity!

So days went on: a week had passed
Since the great world was heard from last.
The Almanac we studied o’er,
Read and reread our little store
Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score;
One harmless novel, mostly hid
From younger eyes, a book forbid,
And poetry, (or good or bad,
A single book was all we had,)
Where Ellwood’s meek, drab-skirted Muse,
A stranger to the heathen Nine,
Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine,
The wars of David and the Jews.
At last the floundering carrier bore
The village paper to our door.
Lo! broadening outward as we read,
To warmer zones the horizon spread
In panoramic length unrolled
We saw the marvels that it told.
Before us passed the painted Creeks,
A   nd daft McGregor on his raids
In Costa Rica’s everglades.
And up Taygetos winding slow
Rode Ypsilanti’s Mainote Greeks,
A Turk’s head at each saddle-bow!
Welcome to us its week-old news,
Its corner for the rustic Muse,
Its monthly gauge of snow and rain,
Its record, mingling in a breath
The wedding bell and dirge of death:
Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale,
The latest culprit sent to jail;
Its hue and cry of stolen and lost,
Its vendue sales and goods at cost,
And traffic calling loud for gain.
We felt the stir of hall and street,
The pulse of life that round us beat;
The chill embargo of the snow
Was melted in the genial glow;
Wide swung again our ice-locked door,
And all the world was ours once more!

Clasp, Angel of the backword look
And folded wings of ashen gray
And voice of echoes far away,
The brazen covers of thy book;
The weird palimpsest old and vast,
Wherein thou hid’st the spectral past;
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow
The characters of joy and woe;
The monographs of outlived years,
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears,
Green hills of life that ***** to death,
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees
Shade off to mournful cypresses
With the white amaranths underneath.
Even while I look, I can but heed
The restless sands’ incessant fall,
Importunate hours that hours succeed,
Each clamorous with its own sharp need,
And duty keeping pace with all.
Shut down and clasp with heavy lids;
I hear again the voice that bids
The dreamer leave his dream midway
For larger hopes and graver fears:
Life greatens in these later years,
The century’s aloe flowers to-day!

Yet, haply, in some lull of life,
Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,
The worldling’s eyes shall gather dew,
Dreaming in throngful city ways
Of winter joys his boyhood knew;
And dear and early friends — the few
Who yet remain — shall pause to view
These Flemish pictures of old days;
Sit with me by the homestead hearth,
And stretch the hands of memory forth
To warm them at the wood-fire’s blaze!
And thanks untraced to lips unknown
Shall greet me like the odors blown
From unseen meadows newly mown,
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;
The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.

Written in  1865
In its day, 'twas a best-seller and earned significant income for Whittier

https://youtu.be/vVOQ54YQ73A
The first sign of a dream approaching is that when you’ve already awoken,
awoken to a strange place with no trace of how you could’ve gotten there.
And the unfamiliar, faces near, with eyes similar to shards– shaded  
you can’t help but notice those feelings emitted were somehow something you’ve come to known before,
but where?
–a notion coursing its way around a soundless observatory only to further dissipation—
A sign of discord covers the room,
all that was allowed is furthest from you,
a parched paper made from what seemed like rugged twine knows nothing but lead between,    you find a face emerging from it,
quickly drawn with detail,
there it stops from motion to undulating surpass,
away from a darkened room up in front of a morning taking.
This conjuring source flairs outward
rising through the outworn canvas
leading it to embers
dancing away along a fizzled plane
for what was despair inscribed in this meaningful dereliction.
To what is empty from emotion is nonexistent,
I couldn’t find the reason to live on,
this dream has died as will I... as will the will of this way this place carries over me.
Yes decay follows me,
unto everywhere will there be the silent breezes to carry me past the concrete terrain into nothingness.
I find myself to live this over,
until the advent of air drowns these lungs to knowing again,
to know exactly what it means to breathe again.
I see no reason for such things as unrealistic as they may seem likely for me to occur in this living.
Again I’m stuck in a room full of my owns thoughts,
such a dangerously sorrowful place to be.
‘For everything as it may have not been
weary am I for looking forward at
The things that never happened’

‘Turning over everyday, repetitively’

Let’s just say that this isn’t personal but for those whom share a common fate. Until overturned.
In its most rawest.
5.3

Parallels:
Snow, for me exemplifies a mute understanding from in juxtaposition with various types of sadnesses that branch off into disparately inclined yearnings, to nostalgic preferences, whether known or not. Why it happens is of course obvious but the way it affects you, makes one wonder, if at all— I think I’m trailing off my train of though here, I’m not sure where this is going..

This was inspired by a remarkable composer, as I recalled a dream before, along with the yearning of trying to expose my underlying expansion of myself with my current understanding of things. what it all could mean as much of his cello’s presence affected me during that process. I’m the gray area that needs deciphering.

—continuations:
the cello that wails the loudest, is one that suffers the most. Even so, every tone encapsulates the listener with resonance. And in that, it reaches its utmost vulnerability, showing the many hues imbedded in an infinite sadness, in an astronomical way, a type of exquisite somber, that resides in the instrument’s hollowness until implementation of procedure.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
A special lace-like card
  *
        *        *        *
Three Star points
       *  *  *
Sword-like smile-Bored-Hike pile-
Western Union Man
Money flies like Superman

Spinning wheel fan too guard
Special words have no regard
He's the Adonis-like the
Lazarus lovely-like Venus
Those effects in motion
That special tip above her lips
Steady as they go but motionless
The stars walk across her
sky lifted dress

Heavenly Pillsbury flour
Her hair flower no water
Smile Lift even in debt
Messed her heart so red
White light disaster
Nothing on this earth
we got to lose no control
Here's the *Special Rose

Winter/Sunglow hair
The Flatiron

A spaceship cowardly lion
Your the "Wildcat"
Crazy Oats
Space waves of the neutron
The dream on
Your eyes are blind
A clear day special motif
setting inside your
Word heading leaf
He lifts up your
blinds all
righteous minds

Those special love hands
Nothing was ever
staged starlight and bright
  Never yellow

Winter?Sun
It blocked out
my *Godly
pages
On the good earth leaf
Helen Keller had the
good remedy family
When you are deaf
A green touch of
brown leafs
What you smell and feel
What's truly there
special beliefs

Or at the most
Famous Cemetery,
You got blinded  so
gilded star
you don't
see them

One of a kind that's him
Or the encounters of the
third kind Winter/Sun
The darkness slim-man-run

The cactus desert of my heartlands

Jack of all Trader Joes investments
My E-book and I Phone
best T-bone steak
Spices of theVegetarian Kingdom
Curry in a hurry for Indian Food,
E-T Extra
Terrestrial Space high bill total

ABC Chemical love reaction
A special motif so personnel
"Divine District Attorney"

Taking spiritual love
what lies beneath us
Lotus Tea Panda Bears
Of Journeys
Pyramid or the myriad

A-Special Motif
comes to me
Two Gods surrender me
message
Something you feel but
it's unknown
Never left in the dark
like a treasure
Teeth chatter Gold caps
Chatterbox
Almost happy coffee
almost dark

Too many famous labels
A special romance new leaf
Time change challenging
Winter sun/Wonder fun
Amarous open chorus
Special maid devious
A special Motif delicious
The honest lawyer
Special talent space
of braces
Subsequently or coincidentally

What was special
The board meetings like *Erasers
?
To erase all the special places
in my heart

Dark despair trail parted
Ending up with a trail
of mixed nuts
Cars such a pain with
Synthetic Oil ****** -like Oil

The conjuring or searing
Holding the leaf in spirit
special times remembering
Sapphire September October
Comfort foods November
Thanksgiving
The heartburn living
The Winter/Sun
Special motif holding onto
his one brilliant leaf in
Ancient Egyptian King of Tut
book

*
Yearning the solemn vows
The full moon is
turning a
new leaf
The painted picture leaf
special Motif

Love so committed
The time was omitted
Family poor or rich
Invitation *Winter Sun


Those who are in need
The beacon like a
poem of goodies mend

Heaven that feeling
called my own
Even things that
are special
became unknown
Not always about
being famous

Things that are simple
that's what remains
precious eat sleep Jeep
The fairy came sweet nectar deep
Was so kind humanly rare find
A special note with a motif
I will never forget what was our belief
A special God or Motif a spiritual beauty her leaf but even when you are deaf you can smell the beauty lingering everyone is  work of beauty just living
pitch black god8 Apr 2018
5 Sensory Deprivation Relevations  (Happy Birthday Will Shakespeare)


I     the smell of sad

odor colorless like *****, similar familiar sidewinder effects,
musty invasive, it has no specificity, no locale centrale, well closeted,
saddling saddlng, in place, plain sighted better to toy our lives,
pervades persists, worse lingers, impervious to sprays
and even everyone’s good literature (even Will’s)
good wishes good intentions and mood prayers
to the nearest lay god
on duty at the spiritual emergency room on weekends,
stink

don’t think that this poem is for you; solely for the writer,
your doppelgänger ******, your mirror’s inside hiding out place,
I, who has your sadness smell into my skin cells crept
waft woof and warp wet weft-woven
into the sad receptacles hidden in my
head’s cubbies and the palms of my tree hands-covering face


there are cures so wonderful and inexpensive but unavailable
at the local Rite Aid, though they are the right aid recoverable,
so closer than close, so close that the internist
cannot prescribe them because he must inject himself first
because the live bacteria in the antidote can **** all

this odor lays down bamboo-strong roots;
to eradicate you must dig down deep,
six feet perhaps more, with heavy earth moving equipment,
uproot at the source, follow sad always all-the-way down and the root
great god gone,
but the saddest truth
stench odor yet present

II    the taste of joy

the joy of cooking is not a gene in my litany possess,
but the buttery taste of joy I know, I know,
it’s a real princess rarity,
the hard costs of finding and keeping it,
I’ve paid endlessly and willingly pay on

the taste of joy is like presents under the tree,
shock surprises delights lives/life, customized, infectious
(except for socks, no matter how joyously exceptional),
joy to those whose buds never blossomed for its taste
readable on some one else’s, anyone’s ****** expression

I think of it as the taste of fast traveling cumulus whites
upon my eyelashes blinking as they are speeding you by, but happy
for ten more behind before the evening stars takes over

the taste of joy is physical, there can be no denying,
concentrations can be found in the lips and the fingertips,
which you think of as a tandem, someone else’s on mine

but it ain’t necessarily so; the taste of joy, shared I, having submitted to others kisses carried on the wind that
found their mark and were well received,
poems from the heart
that arrive well,
as their intended is sleeping, and
as intended, as waking gifts

the taste of joy in droplet tears
when you are notified that words
you joined in holy matrimony made you cry,
because the reader did, wept for two,
the weeping of contentment released,
free at last from container confinement;
this particular taste of joy is in the  
recovery and recognition that these
are not for you,
just joy peculiar these tasted tears for whomsoever sheds them

III   the hearing of truthful

truth am told is oft served cold and hard up for the hearing,
best avoided tween noon and midnight and any time a
bathroom mirror is in the vicinity; though religious men lie
too easily; bathroom mirrors cannot; a character flaw for sure,
but the truth to be trusted is this: no one is truly contented, always there are the richer, the more famous, the employed and
someone above who has more, more burdens of a different sort,
better quality losses and pains unseen not dreamed of

truth tastes terrible and is awful sometimes noisy painful;
it hides well in the stink of sad exposed to the atmosphere when exposed it turns red humans blue

truth may set you free, free to be what are you are or truthfully
an admission of what greatness you have to release the trick is
use the correct scale, do not let the wrong sized ruler rule you,
the truth, if you hear, hear it unfiltered w/o the bias implanted
by not your people; hear your poet voice growl like a blues singer and be truthfully satisfied like no thing no person only you could hear it as you intended it be spoken

IV   touches of fantasy fantastic
secret confess: touch my fav cause when its juiced with
mental visions of what might be, it Saturday satisfies and let me weep happy smile silly and is mine all mind; yes another’s tip
has sorcerer powers of revelation
but alone by myself I yet
relevate
and flow; my hands are right sized, my arms reach around myself for so designed, and the pleasure is mine to give;
mine to take,
neither better or worse if self-administered,
touch myself anywhere anytime and fantasy over dreams wins,
rise up, touch is a language and I speak six or a hundred;
listen to the sounds of touching and be touched human

V  insights for the sightless

at last we close the deprived
with an elegant elevation
sight overrated when imagination exists,
cannot be restrained
this the revelation
you have proffered and preferred all this time

have pity on me
I crystallize the unseen with the replacements
of my conjuring
the other senses lend a hand
telling me look up look up, be life save life
let your madness blossom in the spring airs,
the coolness of a first fingered ungloved snow
sight,
a mathematical function from the other four derived,
sightless an impossibility for with one alone defeat the
sensory deprivation and give tongues to words

epilogue

read my face
incapable of,
deprivation
but how now silent bow my head to Will
for teaching the way of words
traced upon
a fool or a king's tongue,
two too human,
so that poet may ken
his senses keener,
all for the better,
for the betterment of all
and now you understand how came this poem to be writ
in the pitch black
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
The riveting heart feels
the weight of trouble
The rebel is like a watchdog
sentinel
Whats in our Bible?
Things change to make the
difference

"Like a new invention but there is interference"

The Castle you hear
a rattle
wasn't a baby rattle
Minds settling or quietly dazing
No defeating over the rainbow
It's like running then you stop
You look at his watered fingers
Of the great lakes, he's admiring
your lady's fingers

Lips divine as one like us
The gold rush collection
Just a secret hush affection
A treaty concession
Picking out the candy
          Skittle
The pivoting flying shy like a sky
riddle
Him or Her piloting its time
Two sets of eyes world of exploring
Not to keen
on exploiting

Her dress movie flowing prayers to
be answered so vain
Heads Spin city flaunting
Defeats us haunting
Who loves us
Who will help us
       SOS
Like a delicacy one of a kind
She's the rebel let her guess
Such a rarity smile with
dignity dressed up doll
she is dainty
To many disguises to face the
mirror of vanity
Rebel Rebel David Bowie
He is a genius of music
Shines a world gigantic

Rebel world of cults and sanity
What was heavily Tis
To be blessed
Rebels of hearts of Madonna
Greyhound bus

Our scorched finger heats
Riding the *
Porshe Red firehouse
A beat something rare but overly sweet
Robin risque I  need more clues
Braveheart Riding hood in the woods
to be saved in her rebel shoe's

Queen heads up with the Dean
 Her embossed gold letters
Of a spell, forever mean
The heats on rebels defeat over
Modern time the "Dell"

Rebel wish from a deserving well

Computer and devil decipher
Compelled to love her
The Dark Shadows mansion
Angelique scarlet fever
Dark inside her label dress
What did he deliver?
"'Who lives by the standard rule messy is ****"
Rebel rebel look at your bloodshot pupils
taking things for granted

Freakish odd things posted
Are bizarre even her brassiere
Mean as a *Manchette

We are not as one
normal read the Gazette
More rivals and feather
pen of forgery
What a hard act to follow like surgery
Every molecule being
dissected to poke
A love primal no
common ground
This isn't a joke

Everyone tantalizing tribal
Creatures not in direct sunlight
Defeats us like rebels at night
Being inconsistent rebels
lead the way but far away
distant

We are not realizing what defeats us
Endorphin releasing our energy
Lifting our orphan spirits
Moon worshipper climbers
We are the simple people
Nothing too explicit
Or razor sharp to cut us

The Messiah
Solomon Torah of Isreal
Old Testament Jerusalem
Everything is way too ****** red
Like Salem
What defeats us
Voodoo or Christmas Hoo Hoo

Santas gift got stolen and snatched
Having a fight with a door latch
Magic somehow not in our favor to match
Tragic music rock or swing jazz of a glitch
But everything defeats us
Psychic third eye
She is so tragically hurt
So Manic not the
brave rebel flirt

Like the limited edition
So many of us are uninvited
Not the VIP pass
Ressurection new rebel convention
Unique kind of communication

The last time I saw you on vacation
Relic hunters the lightning
Hells Angel rider conjuring
What mouths to feed of thunder
Nazis all  our undivided
attention pictures
They snap having a field day
of paparazzi
Priestesses devil wears the
Prada dresses were out
of designers
I wonder why to travel heretics
Such treachery and butchery
Being grilled like steaks but
not a Dynasty
Too graffitied feeling fried
How loves are taken like the fools

The business arrangements
Foreign exchange groups
Rebelling their way
through college
Time is the essence of
being mutual
beneficial much
higher potential
More spiritual rituals
We need more Gods of top
rank **Generals

General Mills cereal at least
not the serial killer
What defeats us our spirit leads us to dark energy place it's up to
us the human race. We are rebels in a portal or are we not real all mortal
ryn Oct 2014
Found myself at a dental clinic...
He was the best there was.
Unorthodox and eccentric,
But to the specialised craft, he was boss.

Ran through the bits and bobs
Like any normally would.
The poking and prodding and the mandible X-rays.
Everything cold and clinical, so was the mood.

Strange was what happened next...
Specialist and I then stood facing each other.
He leaned close and pressed his palms against my rib cage.
Held them there over a few breaths before it was over.

Then a brief chat, small talk initiated by the man.
Bespectacled and exceedingly chatty, small in stature.
Talks of politics and odd human behaviours...
What started off as friendly turned into a heated banter.

I then realised that along with his decorated credentials,
Was his propensity to be condescending and arrogant.
Him being the best, I thought I could let it all slide,
But soon enough I opted out of being a willing participant.

Couldn't stand his abrasive cockiness!
I snapped out of being cordial and passive thought.
I wanted him to just stop talking!
I went, "Well, are you going to fix my teeth or not?!"

He was stunned momentarily...
I suppose he hadn't seen that coming.
Then his features softened to a blank
I could almost read the unspoken words he was conjuring.

With an exasperated sigh of resignation,
He uttered his next words swollen with regret
"There's no need...for you only have four years left."
It dawned upon me that my timer has been set.

*And then I woke up...
Had this dream several nights ago. I believe that in a lifetime, we'd probably get at least three dreams that would be etched in our minds forever. So far I've had two... The other is in my earlier writes.
See "Mysterious".
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/831521/mysterious/
CK Baker Jul 2017
They weren’t all cut from the same cloth
vilified tenders of the iron *****
some were lovers
or lucid dreamers
stage romantics
hidden behind jackboots
and skull caps
and switchblade seams

Caste members of a forlorn pack
counting their patchwork and deeds
conjuring up demons
around the console
filling their dreams
with radio reds
and dusted quarries
and faded sepia prints

Brass knuckles
and marches of the few
lightening bolt cracks
from a chilling blood moon
death’s dark specter
cold and ominous looms
the cobalt sea swells
near the nestled, and lost
Clubhouse at Kiusta
Show us some light, Mr Jimmy
SassyJ Aug 2018
So you think we live on trees?
scavenging on pollen and remains
scrounging on the breadcrumbs
I am just fed up by perceptions
Misconceptions about Africa
Such conjuring labels on Africans
Yet the savannah grass survives
both the drought and abundance
In open canopies it shows strength
even when overlooked and compressed
and when the trees boast and rules
It humbly sacrifices even when trampled
Africa is inside my very bones
and I carry its prolific prominence
and I bear it’s shame and afflictions
and it’s culture awash all my soul
and it’s values the echoes of my ears
So why should I sacrifice my heritage?
Call me African because that’s is me
See the true architecture of my existence
painted deep on my soft ebony skin tone
Tuned evenly in the inflection of my tune
Fenced in the limits of the unclouded patch
Lora Lee Feb 2016
I want to be loved
right through to my
      dark edges
where indigo smoke,
as mystical as night,
curls up to envelope you
I want that haziness    
     to penetrate
the fire in your eyes
as they mist over
two deep pools of wild
liquid-colored lava
I want to kiss you deep
right down to the embers
take them upon my tongue
      even if they burn
Let them smolder
Let the frayed vibrations
of our union
drip into magic
Let a new consciousness melt
into the realms of our minds
in an electric-toned hue of spirals
Let the love that has been
sealed inside
           go ultraviolet
          with every single breath
and all the poison of past battles
burn away
to reveal the buds of spring
as they burst through
layers of ice,
of ash
of obsidian
for even the most tender
of shoots can unfurl
in a magic that
defies the logic of suffering
and conjures
the language of miracles
Len Fridman Sep 2014
Green as a meadow, a warm landscape of gentle caresses.
A flowering garden that blooms each time I gaze,
Growing in intensity with each passing moment.

Green as the colour of the vast ocean that holds eternal treasures so deep.
I swim in its warmth and let it envelope me,
Conjuring up a blissful peace in its magic.

I look into what is green and see our reflection.
I see a future, bright and clear,
Filled with laughter and joy,
Kindness and understanding,
Passion and Love.

I am not afraid to stare.
In green, I see pure beauty and a place where I want to live.
Haberdashery hauberk harbinger harangue equilibrist, harpy harsh hast severities.
Inane inert inertia innate, juxtaposition maenad ethos affinities.
Putrid quasi queasy pathos, emanate imminent perdition acerbities.

Agnate aggregate anathema android amalgamated, predication contract.
Glutton paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts.
Ambidextrous amatory prelude amaze, analeptic adrenergic analgesia analytics extract.  Annex annul.  

Clairaudience clairvoyant omnipresence presage, omnipotent omnificent omniscience.
Pantheism parapet paradigm intuition, prognosticating prosthesis prediction.
Prolific profuseness profundity prosaic, nimbus nimiety nitty gritty, intrados rubato.

Venerable divinatory deity deify veneration, delineate demagoguery ecstasy, agonist agog.
Dream gleam cream seam beam team, serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean.
Empiricise the existentialisms in the demagoguery of godhead aspiration.
Corporeal anaclitic apex inveterate embezzlement extroversion, acuity alacrity extortion.
Extraneous extemporaneous, ominous phenomena portrayal spontaneous synchronous, aorist actuator.

Endergonic protensive integration extrapolation interpolations investiture elicits.
Scenario synopsis synthesis syncopation, harmony rhymes rhythm.
Synchronous transition transposition interlude, summerial derivation cognition.
                                                      ­­                                                                ­ ­              
Irk-ness ire aerie altruism allegorical, autonomous avarice oscillating ostracism.
Pandemonium obdurate temerity impunity, impending preponderance onus, numinous illuminism quintessential frolic.
Amorous ardent argent arduous enamor endear, plenary putschist volatile phatic.
Conveyor controvert deft mesmeric deification deist dissertation.
Drastic premise portent pervasive embellish, elusive enhance enchant, engender enthrall.
Perpetuation euphenic euthenics, exude emote concoct recalcitrance regalia, irrefragable preternatural ne plus ultra prurient.
Vernaculars opulent myriad, aesthetic stratagem venial vexatious, astral projection conjuring levity apothegms.

Incite epistemological illuminism, accoutrements umbrage ultraism incognito trajectory extant.
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive, heuristic manumission exigency.
Ostensible proclivity prodigious querulous, rambunctious repertoire rigmarole scenic schism sooth.
Ascribe arsenal crucial critical, abhorrent abstinence blatancy berserk, alacritous celerity brogue.
Ceremonial chicanery dynamism fealty, indefatigable incontrovertible ingenuity ingratiate inimical impugn.
Innovate integrity intricate invective convolution, licentious metaphor convection obeisance.
Splurge-ness spry sporadic sprawl, spurious staunch succinct stymie tacit, irate tirade treatise vehement escapade tedium.

Probity irascibly veracious audacity mendacity gumption.
Paphian peccavi preternatural proclivity gesticulation articulation prestidigitation.
Fantastication fantasia fabulist façade, glimmer glisten translucent refulgence.
Subliminally subjunctive nostalgic allusion analogies eidetic’s mnemonics.
Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity fatidic.
Adroit agile nimble tactile acuity prescience capacity intrigue.
Unadulteratedly fornicatious fabrications, portentous ethereal etiquette.
Nose agnate somatology morphology metamorphic, cognition epistemology pragmatics.
Ontological ontogeny causality exigence integumence equivocal.
Innocuous noumenal verity ***** affectation intentions.

Adumbrate intimate obfuscate preterite rendition intimidate.
Logistical tactician spatiotemporal terrestrial equestrian telemetries, physicality’s terrene traverse tellurian terrain.
Vaunt-ness verve’s lucidly illusive, intrepid yare’s predilection predication.
Apriori a posteriori apostrophe shards shroud, innately inert inherency interstitial endemics.                  

Irk-ness ire Zen, graffiti mantra mantis, diminutive minutia iotas inductive interpolation asperities.
Hypercritically mitigating dialectics hypotaxis.
Vituperatively vociferous eerie strident irrefragable orotund  sonorous felicities.
Diacritical diction dharma apomixis.
Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.

Demarcate mirador bartizan panorama, stalwart bastion bulwark tableau, dexterous gargoyle disguise gimmick camouflage.
Decipher coercible coalesce corrupt costume counselor chameleon charlatan chaperone entourage.
Cryptic evocative emulation scenarios siren skeptic, cynical demonic gremlin greaves curtilage.
Zesty zingy zippy zeal zenithal azimuth elaborate elliptical empathy endeavor entity entice.

Clambering clamorous clangor strategic systematic propagate prolific, wield wile treatise expose’.
Aural auspice austerity  axiom conscribe, perplex beleaguer beggary, coax cacophony clout, concatenate chronology.
Erumpent erudition evident evil evert, extol fervor flinty florid, fructify impromptu innuendo juncture.
Kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent, precious precess predetermined predatory predicament, gyro gyre.
Horizon hornswoggle huckster, hokey hoot ornery honkies.

Horologist hackamore relative rationality.
Decorum dastardly dazzle deceit, demolish demur, annihilate denigrate.
Armature arcade doughty, panacea parallax serendipity servant serenade.
Personification of sartorial perfection, picturesque visage of spectral grace.
Cosmic enigma rational relativity.

Housebreak huckster squabble brash, hovel huff.
Ghastly gruesome grotesque grisly groaty gnarly grotto grouch compunction.
Caustic cavernous celibate catatonic phonics, apex crux axis matrix cortex cephalic.
Blasphemous farcical fugue-ness and estranged ensemble orchestration acoustics.
Rendition: various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.
Conjugation coercion junction function, adjunct conjunction conjecture.
Concoct deontology ontogeny, ontological enclitic osteopathy.
Anticipate angary amentia, tiercel theocracy.
Phrenic sensorium sentiment paragon tangible.
Covert aspersion avidity, coherent avid avarice, allegory allocate amatory prelude annex annul.

Tantamount telepathy tantalize talisman talesman, prerogative presumptive judicature.
Subpoena parameter perimeter peripherals prophylaxis protocol.
Real deal seal, sail bail, bailiff rake-ness rail.
Yoni yore yare, leeward lecher leer lingam, menagerie melee hyperbolic milieu thesis, métier quintessential fulham.
Dangle wrangle mangle jangle tangle angle.
Hysterically delirious zany nertsy bonkers bluster boggle.
Gyrate, austere askance obliquely, aspire assail askew.

Cosmic origins metamorphosis implosion contractions revision, blond entropy catalyst.
Cataclysm catastrophe holocaust trauma, inefficacy ineffable expiate.
Chaos cognizant conceive dialectic dictates in extremis extremity meld nuance.
Cryptic cipher circuit citadel clairvoyant sequitur.
Cajole fictitious fiery finesse, invoke fulmination gouts clout, curtilage endeavor iterative itinerary.
Ersatz fiat fulcrum fulgurous indemnify indigenous infernal infidel iniquitous.
Electroacoustic ciphony  Electra complex lore, occipital ubiquity synch.
Psychosomatic psychokinesis cybernetics, penumbral platitude platonic proxy photic.
Assimilate stigma perspicacious, astute asunder atman pulchritudinous.
        
Decadent arrogant pompously bombastic blatant flagrant chaparral.
Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abruptness.
Swarthy beastly antithetical anathema ******* belligerent, savvy irate berserk-ness tirade.
Ulterior aghast agitator incongruous dire, perdurable peremptory primacy arbitrate zealot.
Cantankerously sorcerous insidiously sinister alchemy cauldron, pernicious visceral pathogenic, virulence truculence.
Ideational hideously horrible horrendously heinous ghastly abysmal abjection.
Perpetuity pervade rampart ransack oblation erogenous scarp lambent actuarial arbitrage.
Exserted protuberant pseudopodia actuator, odious aorist militantly mercenary.

Wingspread wiry wiseacre wherewithal rapacity, implicit important juxtaposition.
Machismo equilibrist machinations, kinesiology kleptomaniac knell physique.
Ribaldry rigmarole rhubarb, risqué rive rollick.
Demeanor kamikaze kerf, megalomania misanthropies modus operandi genocidal xenophobic.
Heredity heritage heresy legacy, pseudonym multifarious nefarious nemesis.
Sepulcher stratagem pantheism parapet paradigm, psychosis neophyte, paragon proselyte.
Pilferous wheedling finagler, plunderous pillaging usurper, longevous loquacity lottery.
Rhapsody rhetoric rote raconteur newfangled nocturnal nonchalant sycophant.
Morose morsel moribund, lurid luscious lyricism lucidity lucrative.
Creative cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive.
Aphorism euphemism hegira to xanadu carousing marauder syllogism.
Swell surge flow flux craw crux, virago monad chaos character charisma.
Heuristic cavalier humeral, meager demonstrative anarchy iconoclasm, apropos ergo ipso-facto.
Plenary plenipotentiary omniscience presage, omnipotent directive ubiquity emanations.
Nous agnate ontological ontogeny, exegesis peroration.
Abeyance, exotically ****** quixotic ecstatically emphatic fanatic.
Orchestration rendition unicorn railway mainsail, awry askew askance.

Canny cogent fecund erudite sagacious sequacious conjuring mentality introjection conjugation coercions.
Avant-garde temporal abstract, scenario synopsis eclectic synectics.
Synaptic syntax syndrome aspersion, quagmire quandary poshly plush.
Physicality ***** pictorial, picturesque glyph, debauchery deviant profane ***** vicarious assertion exorbitance.
Mystical silhouette sojourn consortium sabbat conclave liaison, soiree tryst rendezvous symposium excursion compendium.
Incarnate cephalic phantasmagoria proximity parameter phantasm epitomize transitive transcendental syntactic semantics.
Resplendent radiant ephemeral effulgence translucent incandescent luster effluence, reflectively refractive azure opulence effusion.
Contentious pretentiously extravagant eccentric intransigent pedantic antics.
Guidon guile homogenous hovering imagination immaturity, exogamy incorporeity ideologies.
Pique poignant piquant puissant quiescence, obstreperously abstruse vagary plausibility’s cause.
Vivid intangible impetus instinct intrigue, livid lurid allusion.
Autonomous preterite discrepancy amendment emendations, transcendent accession ascensional in absentia expurgation exculpation.
I'm so lonely. Nobody loves me unless I over simplify. I think I'll take my martial arts trainee (Jaded seal ordinand) down to the corner and see if I can find a likely suspect to flash my badge at.
Glass Jul 2018
there is a red sparrow  
tasting caramel pecans in the backyard while I lean
against the kitchen counter reminding myself
‘your so passionate about submissiveness and dominance'
(relevant volume of an alleged innumerable intact)
that it’s another morning with a warm cup of coffee
and by the time I arrive at the subway station, there is a man
sitting on a bench painting temptation with blue, reds and purples
whispering oblivion monsoons
and real affection;
yet there is a silence reverent to
a ballad of praise; conjuring all
of the autumn phases, but halfway through the night
I could discuss about clinical studies with the
bittersweet absence of an empty
entrance “debilitated by spring
roots"

- G
Nigel Morgan Mar 2013
January Colours

In the winter garden
of the Villa del Parma
by the artist’s studio
green
grass turns vert de terre
and the stone walls
a wet mouse’s back
grounding neutral – but calm,
soothing like calamine
in today’s mizzle,
a permanent dimpsey,
fine drenching drizzle,
almost invisible, yet
saturating skylights
with evidence of rain.

February Colours

In the kitchen’s borrowed light,
dear Grace makes bread  
on the mahogany table,
her palma gray dress
bringing the outside in.

Whilst next door, inside
Vanessa’s garden room
the French windows
firmly shut out this
season’s bitter weather.

There, in the stone jar
beside her desk,
branches of heather;
Erica for winter’s retreat,
Calluna for spring’s expectation.

Tea awaits in Duncan’s domain.
Set amongst the books and murals,
Spode’s best bone china  
turning a porcelain pink
as the hearth’s fire burns bright..

Today
in this house
a very Bloomsbury tone,
a truly Charleston Gray.

March Colours

Not quite daffodil
Not yet spring
Lancaster Yellow
Was Nancy’s shade

For the drawing room
Walls of Kelmarsh Hall
And its high plastered ceiling
Of blue ground blue.

Playing cat’s paw
Like the monkey she was
Two drab husbands paid
For the gardens she made,
For haphazard luxuriance.

Society decorator, partner
In paper and paint,
She’d walk the grounds
Of her Palladian gem
Conjuring for the catalogue
Such ingenious labels:

Brassica and Cooking Apple
Green
to be seen
In gardens and orchards
Grown to be greens.

April Colours

It would be churlish
to expect, a folly to believe,
that green leaves would  
cover the trees just yet.

But blossom will:
clusters of flowers,
Damson white,
Cherry red,
Middleton pink,

And at the fields’ edge
Primroses dayroom yellow,
a convalescent colour
healing the hedgerows
of winter’s afflictions.

Clouds storm Salisbury Plain,
and as a skimming stone
on water, touch, rise, touch
and fall behind horizon’s rim.
Where it goes - no one knows.

Far (far) from the Madding Crowd
Hardy’s concordant cove at Lulworth
blue
by the cold sea, clear in the crystal air,
still taut with spring.

May Colours

A spring day
In Suffield Green,
The sky is cook’s blue,
The clouds pointing white.

In this village near Norwich
Lives Marcel Manouna
Thawbed and babouched
With lemurs and llamas,
Leopards and duck,
And more . . .

This small menagerie
Is Marcel’s only luxury
A curious curiosity
In a Norfolk village
Near to Norwich.

So, on this
Blossoming
Spring day
Marcel’s blue grey
Parrot James
Perched on a gate
Squawks the refrain

Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

June

Thrownware
earth red
thrown off the ****
the Japanese way.
Inside hand does the work,
keeps it alive.
Outside hand holds the clay
and critically tweaks.
Touch, press, hold, release
Scooting, patting, spin!
Centering: the act
precedes all others
on the potter’s wheel.
Centering: the day
the sun climbs highest
in our hemisphere.
And then affix the glaze
in colours of summer:
Stone blue
Cabbage white
Print-room yellow
Saxon green
Rectory red

And fire!

July Colours

I see you
by the dix blue
asters in the Grey Walk
via the Pear Pond,
a circuit of surprises
past the Witches House,
the Radicchio View,
to the beautifully manicured
Orangery lawns, then the
East and West Rills of
Gertrude’s Great Plat.

And under that pea green hat
you wear, my mistress dear,
though your face may be April
there’s July in your eyes of such grace.

I see you wander at will
down the cinder rose path
‘neath the drawing-room blue sky.

August Colours

Out on the wet sand
Mark and Sarah
take their morning stroll.
He, barefoot in a blazer,
She, linen-light in a wide-brimmed straw,
Together they survey
their (very) elegant home,
Colonial British,
Classic traditional,
a retreat in Olive County, Florida:
white sandy beaches,
playful porpoises,
gentle manatees.

It’s an everfine August day
humid and hot
in the hurricane season.
But later they’ll picnic on
Brinjal Baigan Bharta
in the Chinese Blue sea-view
dining room fashioned
by doyen designer
Leta Austin Foster
who ‘loves to bring the ocean inside.
I adore the colour blue,’ she says,
‘though gray is my favourite.’

September

A perfect day
at the Castle of Mey
beckons.
Watching the rising sun
disperse the morning mists,
the Duchess sits
by the window
in the Breakfast Room.
Green
leaves have yet to give way
to autumn colours but the air
is seasonably cool, September fresh.

William is fishing the Warriner’s Pool,
curling casts with a Highlander fly.
She waits; dressed in Power Blue
silk, Citron tights,
a shawl of India Yellow
draped over her shoulders.
But there he is, crossing the home beat,
Lucy, her pale hound at his heels,
a dead salmon in his bag.

October Colours

At Berrington
blue
, clear skies,
chill mornings
before the first frosts
and the apples ripe for picking
(place a cupped hand under the fruit
and gently ‘clunch’).

Henry Holland’s hall -
just ‘the perfect place to live’.
From the Picture Gallery
red
olent in portraits
and naval scenes,
the view looks beyond
Capability’s parkland
to Brecon’s Beacons.

At the fourteen-acre pool
trees, cane and reed
mirror in the still water
where Common Kingfishers,
blue green with fowler pink feet
vie with Grey Herons,
funereal grey,
to ruffle this autumn scene.

November Colours

In pigeon light
this damp day
settles itself
into lamp-room grey.

The trees intone
farewell farewell:
An autumnal valedictory
to reluctant leaves.

Yet a few remain
bold coloured

Porphry Pink
Fox Red
Fowler
Sudbury Yellow


hanging by a thread
they turn in the stillest air.

Then fall
Then fall

December Colours*

Green smoke* from damp leaves
float from gardens’ bonfires,
rise in the silver Blackened sky.

Close by the tall railings,
fast to lichened walls
we walk cold winter streets

to the warm world of home, where
shadows thrown by the parlour fire
dance on the wainscot, flicker from the hearth.

Hanging from our welcome door
see how incarnadine the berries are
on this hollyed wreath of polished leaves.
lloyd britton Feb 2015
What words to choose for a sudden inebriation?
A cacophony of lyrical opiates,
Amorous with the linguistic calculation,
Submerged in the mind, uttered copious.
Drunk on an emotion in the twilight,
Singing to all the crepuscular creatures,
Language lulling yet never refrains its delight,
Understood like words of the preachers.
That’s how but why?
Because beauty builds on aesthetics,
Through sounds spoken on high,
And rhyming reveal those familiar tricks.
By virtue of allurement construction,
At the hand of resonance raised,
And verse venture until destruction,
Into the silence which shall be praised.
If it is to be said then should it be plainly?
Then what of poets creatively conjuring?
I know why we offer words humanely,
Too create images that are conquering.
In the heart of the Courtroom sat God with his Only Begotten Son The Christ to his right-hand side to the left-hand side was Lucifer fully armored with a Golden Celestial Horn which will be blown once the war speech commences. Directly in front of them sat 25 Golden Robed Kings dressed in a white tunic with Golden Crowns flowing above their heads. In the massive throne room, there were nearly 750,000 thousand Angels gathered to hear this important speech. Within the crowd, there was some excitement and yet commotion going into play. The Golden Armada Of ArchAngels was presently composed of only 8 Lv-1000 ArchAngels they are under God's direct command and they are the most powerful toughest meanest baddest Angels God has put aside for the most dangerous and toughest assignments ever to be imagined. What God didn't expect was about to happen he was about to get betrayed by one of his main Angels and he himself be tested with the greatest trial he would ever face. Suddenly, Lucifer blew the horn the speech was about to commence...

Meanwhile in Infernus...
Inrah is harnessing Infernus power and converting it into a massive ball of power by opening his mouth wide the energy ball that has a rainbow color to it gets bigger and bigger and has created a transparent shield covering him leaving the angels unable to attack him directly...so every attack they throw at him has failed whether it be a long ranged attack or a close-range attack. Sebastian added "If I were to attack the beast somehow in close range I could potentially aim my Holy Spirit Purple Flame Arrow Of Fate is one of the most powerful attacks I have in my repertoire of moves. Valerye tells Krillin to use stealth and cloak herself from enemy view and attack him from behind the skull of the dragon...the dragon had peaked power in its attack and aimed directly at the 4 ArchAngels floating in mid-air about 400 ft away. In a blink of an eye, Krillin shot at the Dragon with Heavenly Gun Celestial Ray Bullets to draw attention to the dragon. Leona had used her doppelganger to act and be portrayed as Krillin. That made Inrah believe all 4 was there. The bullets broke the shield behind Inrahs skull and 3 bullets penetrated his head exploiting deep within and causing huge rupture like holes on his head. Inrah lost power and was interrupted so the energy ball lost some power itself. Squad #6 realized this was their chance to take Inrah down ...so Valerye being the muscular wise the strongest she leaped then teleported to Inrahs head and descended with a colossal attack disestablishing his power ball and exploding creating a distortion of ethereal space and the blast was so powerful that the Arch Angels suffered extensive damage to their armor. This time Inrah whole head had exploded and collapsed on itself Slowly but surely the tremendous beast with ferocious power had been silenced they all thought Inrah was dead. So each of them examines their selves Valerye had a crack on her shoulder side of her armor. Krillin had her armor almost intact except the broken shattered part of the crystal armature which some shards cut her left arm below the armpit. Krillin was bleeding but recovered phenomenally. Sebastian had Burn marks all over his lightweight armor. Leona had not suffered much due to the fact that she was observing the blast farther away. She had once again used her doppelganger to trick Inrah that she was Sebastian and had moved close to the energy ball when it was still in decent condition. Those golden seconds allowed her to teleport to a nearby location to observe the blast.
It had been 7 minutes and Inrahs head had not recovered...Exhausted from the long battle the Angels began to slowly fly away from the scene. However, Inrah was not dead yet and he gathered his last bit of strength to go back to his Arch Fiend form. The Arch-Fiend flashed and grabbed Valerye then Inrah began glowing dark energy and wouldn't let go of Valerye. So then all the other 3 members threatened Inrah to let go of Valerye then Inrah shouted to the Angels that if they were to attack him or interfere on the absorption of holy power he was going to perform that he would explode leaving Valerye dead or heavily injured. She then telepathically told all the goodbyes and all. Then Valerye heard the Lord's voice to tell her teammates to attack Inrah. Sebastian telepathically asked her if she wanted him to use Celestial Arrow so then they all detected that Inrah couldn't telepathically communicate with them anymore due to his lack of power. So they communicated this among each other and they took advantage of this opportunity to communicate with each other about Jesus message to them saying it was OK for them to attack Inrah due to the fact he had allowed the Holy Spirit to descend to Infernus temporarily to shield Valerye. Taking advantage of Inrah's inability to decipher their angelic messages thru telepathy they readied their positions. In fear, Inrah shouted to him and warned him that he would explode. Sebastian just looked at him and smirked and said... "Don't you see Demon is over..." at that very moment he drew his heavenly bow and slowly drew a celestial arrow. So then Inrah responded nervously... "I may be at my last stand but Master will understand..." right when he finished those words he exploded annihilating him instantly but Valerye was left unharmed due to the Holy Spirit Godly Shield an ability able to withstand any blast with a power level below 1000. So there all four Arch Angels stood on the ground of Infernus and made a surprising discovery. Their power level had grown. Furthermore, a new ability was unlocked by each member of the group. Sebastian learned Shadow Arrow. Leona Infernal Shield. Krylinn learned Earthly Armor. Last but not least Valerye Shadow Clone the ability to use two doppelgangers. The victory came at last and they all four after being left roaming Infernus for 7 long days they arose to heaven victorious and feeling joyful to see the Lord's gentle face and to feel God's embrace and power ever so mightily.

Back in the Courtroom...
The earnest tone of voice and a most elegant poise was worn by Lucifer as he gave his speech. Spoken in Umen a diabolical dialect mixed in the crowd was Vhar disguised as a messenger Angel. He contacted Nebol the 6th DemonLord of Infernus who has 650,000 Necromancers and 1.5 million undead soldiers at his disposal. Nebol made a rift allowing the Undead and Necromancers inside Infernus to relocate to random places around the perimeter of the Throne Room. Vhar and Nebol stormed into the Throne Room just to find themselves surrounded God had given orders to dispose of the imminent threat if any that opposed him or his kingdom. However the demons knowing God's presence would be overwhelming Nebol opened a portal right in front of him which transferred him to Infernus however him and Vhar sustained damage which lowered Nebol vitality due to Occult technique Shade of Darkness which allowed them to be shielded from God's Celestial Light and Adonai Vortex the first ability allows Yahweh the to impair demons use of abilities and conjuring power. The second ability is a is a white dim and slowly becomes a transparent hole that disintegrates demons any rank if touched by it. So with 1/4 of Nebols troops disintegrated when he almost lost his life and almost lost one of his best Generals Vhar he was outraged at the fact he had lost a significant amount of his demonic fleet. Now with 450,000 Necromancers and only having a million undead soldiers left. Nebol killed and consumed the heart of 5 Lv500 General Undead Soldiers and 1 out of only 6 in all the Necromancer Platoon an Lv-800 High Diabolic Priest Necromancer regaining all his power and armor back and with a stronger more powerful stance now regaining his posture as a Demon Lord. *There are 9 DemonLords in Infernus. Each and every single Demon Lord has Immortality and a power level of 1000. However some Demon Lord's are weaker and some stronger even though their power level cannot be higher. It ultimately matters of determination and skill. Aikalar First of the Demon Lord's rules the first circle of Infernus. He is a Huge White Wolf with Black flames with a small blue hue in his eyes and tail dominating the entrance of Infernus the smallest circle of Infernus. The Second Demon Lord portrayed as a Crow in a rotten tree high in the heights of Infernus. The second biggest circle in Infernus. Croxuss the third Demon Lord of Hell portraying himself as a huge turtle looking monster with Bloodshot eyes and ugly putrefying stench emitting from his body. The 4th Demon Lord known as Flayiron a once beautiful Arch-Angel LvIII Bow-Master now that he has joined the Infernus Fleet after his rebellion in Acapella He has a light blueish/purplish armor with a gigantic bow that can be transformed to a sword or a shield with a telekinetic command given by Flayiron. The fifth Demon Lord of hell is known as Asmodeus a half-giant half grey skinned demon who killed an Arch-Angel known Killas. Nebol the 6th Demon Lord of hell who was inbound to attack the great palace of heaven retreated momentarily to collect his thoughts. Lilith the 7th Demon Lord is the Angel of Lust a pure goddess of seduction with tremendous power. Nova the eight demon lord the most powerful goddess of all demon lords extremely beautiful and extremely sensual she does as she pleases with any of the Arch-Angels God has sent her way so far...she doesn't know she is about to meet her doom ...
Squad # 6. Arch-Angel Valerye with Arch-Angel Leona Arch-Angel Kryllin and Last but not least Arch-Angel Sebastian. They came to the 8th Circle Of *Infernus
where Demon Lord Nebol from the 6th Circle Of Infernus.
Work in progress...
Leonard Green Jul 2017
Hear ye, hear ye
hearken from the medieval times of old
where knights in the round once roamed
jousting with deeds fought in truth and honor
to protect the weak, the helpless, the oppressed
with an ideology lurking since the dawn of time
that all are born free, unshackled from contrived ordeals
only to soar high with the eagles to become one with the heavens
and bask in the glory of serving the frailty and holiness of mankind

Hear ye, hear ye
it’s Merlin conjuring a magical spell for the spirit
to behold, to marvel, new stages of self-enlightenment
where the essence of the King invades sleeping visions
possibly foretelling ominous events awaiting new missions
or predestined journeys one must endure to become so bold
in knowledge and wisdom offered, living in this world’s mold
not necessarily realized, instead shrouded with unimpeded urges
akin to the signs found in youth, immaturity, the close-minded

Hear ye, hear ye
the quest to sip from the Carpenter’s silver chalice
and taste charitable love for family, friends, and foes
where reckless pride and hatred are speared with the arrow
forged in devotion of a noble belief, tempered with selfless feats
where the sun rises and sets on the wicked actions of human nature
slaughtering the divine lights prematurely, locked within many souls
yet crusades against evil continues, no retreat, no regrets, no surrender
price to uphold the spirit of Camelot, payment in full, services rendered.
One should not fight because one wants to but one has to in order to protect life.  The taking of life should never be considered a good deed...a better way?  Change their minds...
You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees!
The Original Conjuring Cat—
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don’t scoff. All his
Inventions are off his own bat.
There’s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing suprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
At prestidigitation
And at legerdemain
He’ll defy examination
And deceive you again.
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
Away we go!
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack,
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he’s only hunting for mice.
He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced—
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!
But you’ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.

And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there was nobody shyer—
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire.
And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof—
(At least we all heard that somebody purred)
Which is incontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers:
And I have known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours,
While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!
And we all said: OH!
Well I never!
Did you ever
Know a Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
ryn Sep 2014
Sitting here alone with people around
But I only see one person in mind
She is the person so fortunate I've found
She is the person who loves me in kind.

My head is spinning as I sit here thinking
My heart is aching for the girl I'm missing
My lips they mutter, words of love they're saying
My hope is wishful that these words you're hearing.

I feel this love in my heart, it's growing
To proportions of unfathomable enormity
Sometimes it feels like my boat is sinking
When I think of the undeniable reality.

This reality that I wake up to everyday
Keeps hurling obstacles that I must face
I need the strength so my hopes don't fray
Wishing for more so I can finish this race.

I love her dearly; without her a life I can't imagine
I love her deeply; I never thought I was capable of such
I love her strong; with hopes so high, I would pin
I love her furiously; never thought I could love this much.

She is the sun that around, my world does spin
She is my star that I always look up to see
She is my moon that so clearly I have seen
She is my universe that I'm traipsing through helplessly.

I've never stopped wishing for a life beside her
I've never stopped wanting for her to be with me
I've never stopped hoping for the a life we'd make together
I will never stop trying for I believe it's meant to be.

I have pined for her so, many a sleepless night
I have yearned for her through the hours of the day
I have craved for her; craved with all of my might
I have longed to utter the words I've wanted to say.

Countless of times, these words I've spouted
In my heart I've said them oh so many more
These words are strong like a volcano just erupted
These words are true for they come from my core.

So I sit here still with these people around
They don't know why my heart aches so
It matters not if my feet don't touch the ground
I'd still dare to dream and to her they will go.

Dreams of you I'll never stop conjuring
Thoughts of you I'll never stop thinking
With words so sweet I'll never stop praising
For the woman in my dreams, my heart is loving.

So let me be, you people; you never will know
You'll never know who it is who excites my heart
You'll never understand what makes my love grow
She's the one who had ensnared me from the start.
Jason Drury Oct 2016
Though, should I
or have I begun?

To feel the tussling
Of blurring bodies.

Transforming and dancing,
Through these very halls.

Where aching is thick,
and a embrace is a release.

Should I begin?
How should I begin?

Swallow the dagger,
stabbing from behind.

Let it sit deep in my stomach.
Push it further, where it can’t cut.

Where will it end?
How will I begin?

Under lock and key,
Just where I left it .

It escapes as it did just now,
conjuring a puncture to bone.

Blood flows,
Rushes out into the world.

Is this a release?
How can I heal?*

Pouring out,
It tastes salty on the cheek

The color is dark,
cold to the touch.

Purging the night,
that stained blood black.

Sifting the chill,
of steel from bone.

Ringing out whats left of gore and fluid,
down the drain.

*I can begin now.
This is the end.
it was warm
for a winters eve
unusually warm
but damp very damp
birthing a persistent
midnight mist that
crawled over everything

avenging
halogen angels
flitted down from
streetlight perches
skidding through
bare limb bars
of broken trees
roped in by sagging
telephone wires

skulking
seraphs
joined
ebullient
neon auroras
laughingly
brake dancing,
jittering away on the
pock marked rims
of hip hop streets

the fine drizzle
descending from the
black urban heavens
splayed holy water
over the bodies
of anything
that moved; and
layered mounds
of transparent beads
on all inert things
chiding those yolked
to weighty burdens
to seek relief of
a much needed
breaking point

our
slouching city
mired in a cycle
of a prolonged
historical rut
beavers away
to lift the lid
on tomorrows
tipping point
in a desperate
labor to stop
tripping over
itself...

a dinged up
Sentra’s
flashing spinners
twisted round
our dark corner
nearly clipping
our troop

inside the
yakking low-riders
scuttled along,
their hidden ***** eyes
cruising the stoops
and cyclone alleys
scoping opportunities
for the next
jolly hustle
to feed
a growing
angry fix

tonight
Mother Nature was
running a *****
to the wall third shift,
manufacturing a
stationary low
of gagging precip
churning volumes
of Vulcan smoke
conjuring
convective spirits
from all the
dim places

emanations lit
the balmy January air
rising from
stubborn gray patches
of despoiled snow
and rancid ponds
organic gutter water
composting
in distilled pools
awaiting leakage
through flotsam
clogged sewage grids

Paterson’s
litter police
could close the
city’s budget deficit
if all infractions
were properly cited
and paid in this
neighborhood

this queer elixir of
rising vapors from
evaporating snow
escaping the cracks
lining the bowels of
mordant streets
joining descending
screens of billowing mists
blurs boundaries of light,
diffusing temporal time

people and things
lose precise definition
reducing sentient beings
to moving silhouettes of gray
photographic negatives
framed in dribbling palettes
of pastel hues

our
5th Ward mission
planted in the
hub of a neighborhood
still holding on...

Old WASP’s
of St. Paul’s
long ago
winged away
from this
princely
Episcopate
principality

the abandoned
conical nest, its
chambers filled with
the mud of 50 dead rectors
precariously clings
to its shivering
boulevard corner

its endowment depleted
its earthly treasure rusting
grandiose Tiffany windows
remain the last legacy of an
opulent faith now
shamefully rattling away
in moth eaten frames

once icons of
adulatory reverence
the final sparkling asset
of a distressed religion
begs to be monetized
by flummoxed vestrymen
yearning to extend
a stewardship
over a dissipating
ESL flock

distress in the hood
parades down Broadway
in all directions

a few blocks east
a shuttered
Barnert Hospital
transfigured into an
urban enterprise zone
for health-care privateers
working overtime to
extract federal
corporate welfare
rent subsidies
dutifully fulfilling
fine print obligations of
Obamacare legislation

Old Mayor Barnert’s
namesake synagogue
once hard by
City Hall
is long gone
its absent footprint
now centered by
a thriving
White Castle

near Broadway’s end
on the outskirts
of Eastside Park
Art Deco Emanuel Temple
the last anchor
for the city’s Judaism
lies vacant
awaiting a renewed
purpose

fraught with irony
a thriving Islamic Center
stands juxtaposed
across the street
from the old
Hebrew Temple

we wonder what
will emerge
from the
hallowed chrysalis
of decommissioned
Emanuel?

rumors of a
Great Falls Art Center
trickle like a leaking faucet
failure to secure a mortgage
in the post credit
bubble pop economy
dams the possibly
of a new centers
coming to fruition

will
the city’s
changing
demography of
reverent Muslim’s
genuflecting
across the street
take time away
from prayer to
patronize a venue
offering decadent
bourgeois jazz and
risqué reviews
of retro Borscht Belt
vaudeville?

when Constantinople
became Istanbul they
converted the Christian
churches into mosques

when the Inquisitioners
drove the Moors from
Granada they converted
the Grand Mosque to
the Cathedral of the
Incarnation

what incarnations
will this city’s
twilight bring?

As Byzantine
begets
Constantinople
begets
Istanbul
the links
in the Silk Road
spanned west
to the new world
of mechanized looms
powered by
Great Falls
raceway water
and a distribution
and procurement
chain anchored
by the Morris Canal

Capitalist
modernity
begets
our Silk City
it also bespeaks
its demise

in the courtyard
of St. Paul’s
a muffled chorus
trawls the thick air

a posse of pimps
done wrangling
their stables
of $5 ******
sing reveries to
the evening haul

midnight lullabies
of corner crooners
lift a Capella hosannas
from the dark armpit
of an alley behind
the Autozone

“i said
you say
what can make
me feel this way
my girl”

juiced pimps
cashin in
livin large on
a skanks
50 cent haul

the trade in flesh
of distressed
human capital
remains a
growth industry

Music Selection:  
Temptations, My Girl

jbm
3/1/13
Oakland
Part 1 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Paterson NJ is nick named The Silk City.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
/to recraft, if not to refind, the thrill of rhyme in poetry, as if it were a sleepwalking happenstance of: déjà vu... coincidentally, in some countries, they'd rather teach memorisation of poems than of soulless mantras in bones without marrow... rhyme as... happenstance, rather than a pedagogical drill, which would wake even Beethoven from the resounding, fading out, echoing... tennis match instead of orchestra phonics... termite lingo, for nothing more than: hello, my name is bob, insignia safety.

yep, went to a Puerto Rican *******,
a Bulgarian, a Romanian
and a Ukrainian...
because... apparently,
all the engliah girls were recovering
from a moral hangover...
or saddled to the baby-sack
aged late teens,
since going to the gym was no fun...
forget about womanising...
walk into a herd of nuns...
and you'll be circumcising
yourself, using nothing more than,
a routine check-up
at your dentists...
           ******* hybrid chastity belts
those "Rodin" marvels worth
of ****** / dodos and butch Panzzy
wha-wha "boys" in leather
and acne, could become...
    and never allow language to succumb
to a poetry with a: death to language
by rhyme...
      fluid as god's given amber (beer)
and ambrosia (milk)....
       that spontaneity of rhyme that's,
actually rare to find...
    unless I interrupt the narrative,
don't give me 2 x 2 = 4
     with roses are dead,
      violation of the blue rule:
   rhyme in poetry,  in reality,
is like a *** note...
               easier toying with "arithmetic"
in puzzle...
or rather: women sooner remember
kindergarten rhymes...
      no wonder,  antagonism
of St. Thomas' gospel...
              at Hel, a curvature,
and dead end...
                              i am apparently to
be bound to despair...
            sieving lies like ****
through the regurgitating gobs
of flies...
               plenty of leprechauns
dancing the jiggle in the pope's
2nd take on a soupbowl;
should he ever mind to retire
into clemency,
   from the bombast and opulence
of peacocking perched,
prior to...
           a "necessary" memory of
ancient Egypt,
    translated into a framework
of erasing today, and conjuring up
tomorrow.
anne p murray Apr 2013
He was casually walking one evening in a bustling place called New Orleans in the year of 1845. Nonchalantly strolling down Bourbon Street, a street lined with beautiful homes; graceful verandas; elegant parlors, and... Marie Laveau.

His name was Moine Baptiste. He was a black, French Creole. A man who lived for his music, Quadroon *****, the blues, jazz, and  places where he and Charlie would play their rip-roarin' music in the place called "The Big Easy".

Charlie the sax, was Baptiste’s long, time friend, since he first started playing the 'sax' at the young age of eight.

Moine Baptiste, Plessy Ferguson and all the guys played their Cajun, jazz and blues music at clubs like, 'Antoine’s Bar',  'The Maison Bourbon Jazz Club' and 'The Funky Pirate', all which were popular clubs in the French Quarter on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

In those days dusky stable hands would lead horses around the stables engaging in desultory conversation that went something like this:
"Hey where y'all goin' from here?" they'd query. "From here we're headin' for the "Big Apple", one would offer in reply.  "You'd better fatten up them skinners or all you'll get from the apple will be the core," was the quick rejoinder.
Resulting in the assigned name, Those Big AppleYears".

Close by on another beautiful, tree lined street was 'Esplanada Avenue'. It was the most elegant street of all in the French Quarter.

Esplanada Avenue claimed fame to a somewhat elusive, secret Bordello called LaBranche House where all the affluent or wealthier men would frequent.

Baptiste was very familiar with LaBranche House. That was where he met all his women and spent most of his money.  

The French and Creole children casually roamed the town, sometimes walking down by the graveyard near Bayou Street. They had been told many a time to steer clear of Bourbon Street, a street with a sordid reputation of burlesque clubs, all night parties and…Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of   New Orleans!  

When Baptiste was taking his walks he'd always watch out the corner of his eye. Something he learned to do when strolling along the sidewalks in New Orleans and in particular Bourbon and Bayou Streets in Congo Square. You see he’d had a few encounters with Marie Laveau.

Oh he had a great deal of respect for Marie Laveau... along with a healthy amount of fear.

This Creole woman, often used her Voodoo  to manipulate, acquire power and upon occasion bless those she liked with good luck and prosperity. She  was also quite adept in conjuring up her many powers in matters of the heart.

Her hair was long and black. She was both feared and respected. Ms Laveau had olive colored, Creole skin. Her black, piercing eyes were sharp as a razor’s edge. Almost magnetic, if she stared at you for very long.

Baptiste had called upon the Voodoo Queen a few years back when he was down on his luck..... and down on his luck with women.

It was almost to the point, that he’d all but given up on the possibity of being happy and contented.

Baptiste was a man with a robust charisma of Creole and French charm. Yet he had an air of reserve and dignity, with a bit of naughty that shone brightly in his chocolate, brown eyes. He was remarkably handsome with dark brown, wavy hair; a well chiseled bone structure in his cream colored face, full lips and a well toned body.

His main problem was, he liked too many women. Too many all at the same time. He spent too much of his money on his women which left him broke,  lonely and dissatisfied.

One night while strolling down Bourbon Street he happened upon Marie Laveau. He’d just finished playing a ‘gig’, with his old, friend Charlie his beloved sax and a few of the guys. Baptiste was feeling a bit light headed and a tad drunk from the ***** that flowed and poured so freely in that part of town called The Big Easy. It was a part of New Orleans steeped in history, lore and many mysterious legends.  Baptiste was feeling slightly tipsy from all the Whiskey he'd drank.

When Baptiste saw Marie Laveau walking towards him down on Bayou Street, he boldly said:

     "Well, Ms. Laveau”,  said he as she walked on by
      She looked piercingly at Baptiste, stared straight at him right through to his eyes.
      She was the famous Queen of mysterious curses
      She carried potions and spells in her bags and purses
      She was a famous legend in New Orleans where all the black trees grow

      This Black, Creole Lady lived in the dark, murky swamps all alone
      She carried black cat’s teeth and eerie Mojo bones
      She had three legged dogs and one eyed snakes
      A mean tempered hound she called  Big Bad Jake    

      He said, “Ms. Laveau you Voodoo Witch
      Please cast your spells and make me rich”!
      Marie started mumbling and shook her magic stones

      Why it scared Ole’ Baptiste right down to his skinny ole' bones!
      She cast aVoodoo Spell and spoke some eerie incantations
      Promised him wealth, true love and a big plantation!
      There’s many a story told of men she’d charmed
      But Ole’ Baptiste, he wasn’t too alarmed

      They strolled through the graveyard down on Bayou Street
      Where all Marie's ghouls and ghosts and spirits meet
      There lived a big, black crow where she held her ritual scenes
      She spoke powerful Voodoo words and cast her magic in between
      She held Baptiste’s hands tightly in her large, black hands
      She promised him love and riches and lots of land
      From that day forward Baptiste had more than his share of luck
      He had the love of a beautiful woman and lots of bucks


      But Baptiste always remembered that piercing look in Ms. Laveau’s stare
      An admonishing, cautionary warning they always shared
      If you ever walk the streets in New Orleans....
                                   Beware....
      You just might meet up with Marie Laveau... "The Bayou Voodoo Queen"
__________________­_________
"Marie Laveau (September 10, 1794 – June 16, 1881[1]) was a Louisiana Creole practitioner of Voodoo renowned in New Orleans. She was born free in New Orleans.
Marie Laveau a legend of Voodoo down on the Bayou. This well known story of this
Voodoo Queen who made her fortune selling her potions and interpreting dreams...
all down in a place called New Orleans!
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
This piece was started earlier in my mind now I apologize if it is openly to raw and telling but let me tell
You try to give something with this idiocy going on it’s a tall order when you read that a young new
Afghanistan bride was beheaded because she wouldn’t submit to prostitution we have the little girl in
Pakistan shot by the Taliban because of her love of peace and liberty I add this it’s a pretty sick system
And without any power if it must prey on little ones to continue what kind of vile concoction do those
Men in that part of the world take I know that answer it’s the only place that they openly lick the poison
Right from the devil’s Godless finger tips I will repeat my own encounter with a demon back home in
California he’s speaking trying to act as God’s Holy angel in my spirit I saw this creature with a body of
Bubbling sores and then I knew evil at its core all that reject God’s holy love has only one thing left that
Thing that talked with me and causes men to do these unbelievable acts and before you say oh that’s in
The Middle East children today just turned in a cell phone of a young American woman in Oregon who
Worked at Star Bucks is missing it was five minutes from her home they find the cell phone in a field
The filthy oozing thing I spoke of just moved up the coast it’s a global problem children to the most part
Don’t have cell phones they are found in fields and the little ten year old was also beheaded to try to
Hide her identity that was in Colorado we have a sin problem that only a Holy God can give answer to
But he does work through the life and voice of certain people the person I will relate to you is real this
Story comes about on this wise was it partially contributed to the dare devil sky diver who broke all the
Records in Roswell on the same day or was it because of the night it’s easy to see strange things in the
Dark anyway a man was taking a walk in the quiet night his walk always took him by this pond he carried
A lantern I think he did it as a connection with the past but as he entered the old familiar path he saw
This strange site a Swan was on the water how many years can you live some place and not see a Swan
So he was befuddled and then as he watched it headed for shore and then the thing went totally Roswell
Because it turned into a woman or did it one thing she was different as he would soon find out his
Curiosity demanded he go over and speak to her he introduced himself but he had his back turned and
Must have been nervous not speaking as he usually would it was ether Jim or Tim she being more
Caution of the two didn’t give her name their accidental meeting was cordial enough that one of them
Gestured that they set down he set the lantern down that held them both in the light in a confused and
Brutal world where the enemy moves practically unchallenged I believe the woman to be a messenger
Sent to guide and turn the tide in the degree that people are stripped of the father’s immediate love He
Works in a way that is not the perfect expected way but still gives comfort they put it to song but long
Before that it was a story offered in dramatic cinema The Heart is a Lonely Hunter much truth is spelled
Out and also it is relentless the hurting contend without end for solace and also the mind is a crying one
Who seeks through the most unsearchable distillable thought to find the way that leads safely and true
This is some of the things she offered the disarming the most attractive and perfection of her creation
Vulnerability it’s told in wisdoms ultimate terms a soft word turns away wrath but in her she is most
Empowered when though her femininity she opens the gates that on the other side are nothing but ruin
When any one tries to use power and force but her demure acts ushers in victory it is burnished it
gleams it is blinding the total error of fools are shown their destructive path a sword can slay in this
Situation but you wound your own self without remedy was our friends mouth hanging open at her
Physical appearance the way she presented herself and the words she used defiantly so he set by a pond
But the pool of her soul flooded the most desperate recesses of his hurting existence she would empty
Herself and it might seem barbaric but she would slay her own self on the altar of sacrifice and duty for
Him and others the gift demands nothing less you must go forth bearing the marks of blood look for God
Sake beyond the obvious they are killed physically as this piece has spoken of but the pretty show
Outwardly is the enemy’s greatest conjuring trick what could possibly be wrong look at what all I have
She said this first you talk like this and you will die among friends they want a world of pleasure
Truth has too many sharp edges it doesn’t make you free without cutting away the lies you are the most
Sought after prize in an all out war fare for the souls of men and women it would be sad tale indeed if
Some of your words about yourself were made public you wear a garland on this plane it is like the
Greek contestants in the ancient Olympics that Garland is a promise of the gold you will wear and a robe
Of purest linen now hopefully you can follow the flow the super being wants to honor His children all
The finest Jewels will make up your home it all rides and falls on this one thing obedience and her words
That say this when I see the blood I will in all total reality welcome you into joy for ever more yes by a
Simple earthen pond she touched this individual with brilliance that contained all of time plus as she
Walked through his heightened awareness wisdom without compare created in his life pillars and a
Structure that was without equal no enemy would ever penetrate the sanctuary she described to him
In detail she took darkness that surrounded them turned it inside out reveled to him colors that were
Foreign to his natural mind she laced it with passion that was as the eruptions of volcanoes he fell back
In consternation but then basked in what she said it’s like living in a garbage heap you were born there
You know nothing else then your circumstance change you see the ocean the forest mountains the first
Time if only in the eyes of a seer then her voice is soft her eyes flash lighting her eyes retell primordial
Findings astonishments that foundationally explains the world and at your most breathless moment she
Says now let me tell the other world that supersedes this one a timeless world aloneness is unknown
Feel anxiety loss seem like your heart is barren peace joy and love can’t be explained on the level that it
Will exist in the near future she says only this about that there was a time in the mountains when this
Blessing of those three things were given she had to cry after the Holy one no more anymore and this
Mortal frame will give out well let us deal with what we can handle she rose and by now he didn’t know
What to expect she walked to the center and she did just this simple act she twirled around but in that
Movement womanhood was reveled to him he already knew but he wasn’t able to know and give
Expression call the wild things in all their diversity in to your hands feel vibrancy in its maxim degree
Pass beyond the pond go to all places that ***** and fall away with sweetest tender grace your getting
Only the outer understanding of what a woman is she was so minded to show him more yes Sherlock
Homes would fail in the attempt of telling what he felt how she made him feel give up every ounce of
Your being your dreams and hopes you have entered the staging area of dreams still melancholy where
Want was first ever made and handed to the untrained in its use next and most formable is to offer your
Heart most divine act but cruelest of beast dwell in these surroundings you are powerless is there is no
Savagery that can inflict this kind of pain your face tells of your dance in paradise boundless profane
And there is no explanation or end as someone said lost love opens up on the high way of infinity its
Worth her affection but if she must ever say never will I open my arms of love again know a most
Wonderful sea harbor that holds mist crashing waves highs and lows of pleasure fulfillment of the
Highest order nothing more tender flows between man and women yes *** is a mystery it fuses the
Whole person higher than natural mountains and truly deeper than any ocean nowhere else can
Tenderness Employ such grace such truth such caring and can end with the admixture of both partners
With the Unbelievable gift of a child that you can even love more than your selves if there is any greater
Art than that if there is any greater I don’t know of it this is the end of this encounter know this he was
Enriched and is most thankful he sometimes broods about southern climes it’s understandable Jim
If that’s your name you have been in the presence of a special one
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2014
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
"Aug." 10, 1911.

Full moon to-night; and six and twenty years
Since my full moon first broke from angel spheres!
A year of infinite love unwearying ---
No circling seasons, but perennial spring!
A year of triumph trampling through defeat,
The first made holy and the last made sweet
By this same love; a year of wealth and woe,
Joy, poverty, health, sickness --- all one glow
In the pure light that filled our firmament
Of supreme silence and unbarred extent,
Wherein one sacrament was ours, one Lord,
One resurrection, one recurrent chord,
One incarnation, one descending dove,
All these being one, and that one being Love!

You sent your spirit into tunes; my soul
Yearned in a thousand melodies to enscroll
Its happiness: I left no flower unplucked
That might have graced your garland. I induct
Tragedy, comedy, farce, fable, song,
Each longing a little, each a little long,
But each aspiring only to express
Your excellence and my unworthiness ---
Nay! but my worthiness, since I was sense
And spirit too of that same excellence.

So thus we solved the earth's revolving riddle:
I could write verse, and you could play the fiddle,
While, as for love, the sun went through the signs,
And not a star but told him how love twines
A wreath for every decanate, degree,
Minute and second, linked eternally
In chains of flowers that never fading are,
Each one as sempiternal as a star.

Let me go back to your last birthday. Then
I was already your one man of men
Appointed to complete you, and fulfil
From everlasting the eternal will.
We lay within the flood of crimson light
In my own balcony that August night,
And conjuring the aright and the averse
Created yet another universe.

We worked together; dance and rite and spell
Arousing heaven and constraining hell.
We lived together; every hour of rest
Was honied from your tiger-lily breast.
We --- oh what lingering doubt or fear betrayed
My life to fate! --- we parted. Was I afraid?
I was afraid, afraid to live my love,
Afraid you played the serpent, I the dove,
Afraid of what I know not. I am glad
Of all the shame and wretchedness I had,
Since those six weeks have taught me not to doubt you,
And also that I cannot live without you.

Then I came back to you; black treasons rear
Their heads, blind hates, deaf agonies of fear,
Cruelty, cowardice, falsehood, broken pledges,
The temple soiled with senseless sacrileges,
Sickness and poverty, a thousand evils,
Concerted malice of a million devils; ---
You never swerved; your high-pooped galleon
Went marvellously, majestically on
Full-sailed, while every other braver bark
Drove on the rocks, or foundered in the dark.

Then Easter, and the days of all delight!
God's sun lit noontide and his moon midnight,
While above all, true centre of our world,
True source of light, our great love passion-pearled
Gave all its life and splendour to the sea
Above whose tides stood our stability.

Then sudden and fierce, no monitory moan,
Smote the mad mischief of the great cyclone.
How far below us all its fury rolled!
How vainly sulphur tries to tarnish gold!
We lived together: all its malice meant
Nothing but freedom of a continent!

It was the forest and the river that knew
The fact that one and one do not make two.
We worked, we walked, we slept, we were at ease,
We cried, we quarrelled; all the rocks and trees
For twenty miles could tell how lovers played,
And we could count a kiss for every glade.
Worry, starvation, illness and distress?
Each moment was a mine of happiness.

Then we grew tired of being country mice,
Came up to Paris, lived our sacrifice
There, giving holy berries to the moon,
July's thanksgiving for the joys of June.

And you are gone away --- and how shall I
Make August sing the raptures of July?
And you are gone away --- what evil star
Makes you so competent and popular?
How have I raised this harpy-hag of Hell's
Malice --- that you are wanted somewhere else?
I wish you were like me a man forbid,
Banned, outcast, nice society well rid
Of the pair of us --- then who would interfere
With us? --- my darling, you would now be here!

But no! we must fight on, win through, succeed,
Earn the grudged praise that never comes to meed,
Lash dogs to kennel, trample snakes, put bit
In the mule-mouths that have such need of it,
Until the world there's so much to forgive in
Becomes a little possible to live in.

God alone knows if battle or surrender
Be the true courage; either has its splendour.
But since we chose the first, God aid the right,
And **** me if I fail you in the fight!
God join again the ways that lie apart,
And bless the love of loyal heart to heart!
God keep us every hour in every thought,
And bring the vessel of our love to port!

These are my birthday wishes. Dawn's at hand,
And you're an exile in a lonely land.
But what were magic if it could not give
My thought enough vitality to live?
Do not then dream this night has been a loss!
All night I have hung, a god, upon the cross;
All night I have offered incense at the shrine;
All night you have been unutterably mine,
Miner in the memory of the first wild hour
When my rough grasp tore the unwilling flower
From your closed garden, mine in every mood,
In every tense, in every attitude,
In every possibility, still mine
While the sun's pomp and pageant, sign to sign,
Stately proceeded, mine not only so
In the glamour of memory and austral glow
Of ardour, but by image of my brow
Stronger than sense, you are even here and now
Miner, utterly mine, my sister and my wife,
Mother of my children, mistress of my life!

O wild swan winging through the morning mist!
The thousand thousand kisses that we kissed,
The infinite device our love devised
If by some chance its truth might be surprised,
Are these all past? Are these to come? Believe me,
There is no parting; they can never leave me.
I have built you up into my heart and brain
So fast that we can never part again.
Why should I sing you these fantastic psalms
When all the time I have you in my arms?
Why? 'tis the murmur of our love that swells
Earth's dithyrambs and ocean's oracles.

But this is dawn; my soul shall make its nest
Where your sighs swing from rapture into rest
Love's thurible, your tiger-lily breast.
july hearne Jul 2018
the homeless are ******* in the streets,
well some of them are

the homeless have been ******* in the streets
a lot lately

when they are not getting scatological on the streets of seattle
they are conjuring the other images of themselves, because there is always so much more to this story
as they sit on the sidewalk and/or in entrances of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments
throwing empty beer cans in the street
at the people walking past

they say seattle is going to be the next san francisco
because that is what tech is, nothing new
forgotten already done ideas redone
same price tags same coast line same **** in the streets

they must have thought something better
was here, waiting for them
when they rode into town
from other towns
housing, more drugs, a new life
in these streets that they **** in

not sure what they heard
their tents under the over pass
their trash upon the hill
overlooking the highway

their tents always have a highway view
their trash too

i should be that afraid of my own life
of what tomorrow will be
oversharing in a voice
that is not my own
miss jean brodie in **** city style
ISAIAH 5:8
Halloween considered a holiday in the United States.
The holiday means "holy day." But is nothing holy about Halloween. The root word of Halloween is hallow which means "holy, consecrated band set apart for service" if this holiday is hallowed whose service is it set apart for ? The answer to that question is very easy ---Lucifer's!

It's activities include.

• *** with demons
• ****** between animals and humans.
• Animal and human sacrifices
• Sacrifices babies to shed innocent blood.
• Castings spells conjuring of demons
The list is endless.
Find it on gateway.
Why Celebrating Halloween Is Dangerous.
Why do we chose to participate in such festivals.
No-one really knows how dark and violent it is
They all think that it is just a bit of harmless fun.
WRONG
DONT
BE*
GULLBLE
Tate Morgan Jul 2015
A collection of thoughts and prayers for our friends their families and the whole of humanity. Written by 76
voices from around the world.

The biggest star shines, proudly announced he arrived
My lord Jesus Christ was born to witness the truth
He granted identities to all of us, lost and unknown
Taught us love, peace and harmony, while forgiving all
A. Amos - United States

An ancient mission, a veiled plan
The Son of God, the son of man
A virgins wonder, a humble birth
The King of heaven is born to earth
Adanette - United States

Winter creeps in as fall fades to an end
frost coats the ground and snow begins to drift
tis' the time of year
Christmas is near.
Alicia Schroeder - United States

Let peace on earth begin at home
And spread to friends far and near
Bringing together all those we love
"It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Ana Sophia - Canada

Little excitement triggering at night
What Santa will bring for me this night
Little wish of mine; do listen my lord
Let Santa bring this time happiness for all...
Anne - India

Egg nog, holly, and Christmas wreaths
Pointsettia's white and bright red leaves
Fat, jolly Santa and Jesus' birth
A bright star arises and alights the Earth
Anne - United States

Adorable boy wiping the blur window pane with his poky hands,
and have a wish that santa claus will bring joy through this window,
Gracefully chanting jingle bells, he became santa for his parents,
so santa given the happiness from this side of window
Anshul's Vision - India

Dreamy hot chocolate kisses
steamy snowflake sprinkled wishes
lists of who's been naughty or nice
blend together this wintry spice.
April -United States

We have no jingles or Santa Clause
We have no snow
Still we have spirit of Christmas
Love and hope
Avinash - India

Christmas in Australia,
Sun, summer heat, Christmas outside
Backyards, and Barb-B-ques
Yule tides under the stars
Barb - Australia

Soft Smells of frankincense.
pine needles of fresh scent of bright Christmas Trees
Frosted windowpanes Magical time of the year
with children playing in the snow
Benita - United States

The season of love and joy is upon us
Sunshine or snowfall, no matter the weather
Smiles and laughter, and good cheer among us
When friends and family gather together
Brian - United States

The count down starts
for the best gift ever received
let peace reign in your hearts
as you wait to unwrap it.
Cassie - Kenya

Time is right, the time is near Christmas will soon be here.
Bells will ring and folks will sing "Oh holy Night all is bright
Children will wait with anticipation for Santa to come
Hearts will be warm, and love will abound Christmas is here.
Cheryl Davis - United States

He is the gift.
Jesus Christ,
He can have our burdens lifted,
By the gift of Christ.
C. Lee Battaglia - Unites States

Wind has licked the poor trees clean
All brown and bare in desolation
All except the evergreen
Soon to be sold as decoration
C. Rose - United States

The snow flakes dance in the wind
Shining lights like a magical dream
For those holding on to promises
To find in these times their wishes.
Dayran - Malaysia

Flash floods of snow replace once august plains of paper white
Mystic rivers freeze over as December lets her true colors shine
Incandescent light spreads throughout the ethereal winter night
As chariot of Christmas comes to life for yet another fiery ride
Doorman Dan - United States

A Merry Christmas poem
Always brings me Advent Joy
As we laud the Christ Child
The Birthday of the King
Douglas Raymond Rose - United States

Shattered crystals float to the ground
Stillness lay upon sweet earth
Warmed by angels silent sound
Jesus love bless yuletide hearths
E.Noodle - United States

To the poor and sick this year
I wish a bit of Christmas cheer
From the homeless and forlorn
Stable where a child was born
Fabian G. Franklin - United States

Christmas shines shimmering bright.
Stars spotlight a dance with the snow.
To welcome a merry season with cheer and light.
Bringing peace, joy and warmth for all to know
Fran Marie - United States

Snowflake kisses, full of holly wishes
peaceful rejoices bestowed upon fellow man
warmth of hope abiding a Joyeux Noel,
& muchly good cheer throughout the coming year
Frieda - United States

Lights shimmer,bells jingle on Christmas Tree
Half asleep eyes waiting for Saint Nick
Straight from the Pole wrapped with love & care
The gifts arrived our homes with a conjuring trick!
Frozen Eyes - India

The night before Christmas is known to be magical
With snowflakes in the air and Santa in the fireplace
And a smile plastered on our child's face
When the morning comes, all the magic will be done
Haley Wilson - Canada

Distance keeps us far apart,
Despite the cheer within our hearts.
The Spirits of Yule sing far and wide,
Let their songs brighten our minds.
Hime no Yuki - United States

Stuff your face, there's more to come
Before the games, the laughter and fun
in lively repose we'll mark the feast
With music and song and family treats
IanJohn63 - United kingdom

This reminds us of the true spirit
of the season.
It is much more than the material dreams dancing in our head
peace and love are the real reason
Jacob - United States

Unpack socks,yes this year is dying.
No child on this day coming should be crying.
I would be lying if I said Christmas isn't exciting.
All joy and glee,wouldn't you agree?
John - England

When children dream each year of Christmas,
Whispers from river and mountain pass --
Touching each language, corner, and part,
Wishing this year's dreams unwrap each heart.
K.L.Goode - Canada

Family visits,
where strangers find each other.
Long lost smiles reborn,
to sister and to brother.
Kusa Da Shin Avira - United States

Shining great star from heaven into hearts
Intimate wooden barn with manger in place
Celebrate the birth of Christianity and Jesus
Who died to keep humanity sin-free and safe
Lady Ann Graham-Gilreath - United States

We danced the year's temporary rhythm
Hitting the high or low steps to each tone
Like black and white in a composition
Let's find forte in harmony made
Laury Hitch - Ghana

The festival of lights is near
"Happy Hanukah" a wish we will hear
Every sundown, one candle more
A wish for peace in our hearts will endure
Lydia Shutter - United States

Bright patterned paper parcels waiting
with ribbons gold, green and red
while children peaceful dreaming sleeping
of the stockings hanging on their bed.
Mad Englishman (Clive) - United Kingdom

Drifting droplets over Christmas Tree
Spreading white foam of cracking snow,
Santa stood beside distributing to all free
****** Mary blessed divinity from above.
M.A. Rathore - India

Son of God, salvation of man
At last unto the earth is brought--
Who will remember, indeed who can
Unless final Ipod or Bratz is bought?
Mark Teague - United states

Thoughts toward the poor, sick or dying
Yet another year passes without some knowing
Of Christmas cheer, frolics for them too annoying
All symbolism meant only for those who are growing
Martin - Ireland

The gift of love.
The gift of peace.
The gift of happiness
May all these be yours at Christmas
MBUYISA - South Africa

To one and all I would grant a gift,
blessings for the holiday season.
Hearts overfilled with a joyful lift
from the angels bright holy beacon.
Michael Greenway - United States

In this season of Christmas
Through the eyes of the child
We look up and do believe
In Peace and Mercy mild
Momzilla - United States

Better than men than me,
Make their own mark
on world
and modern history
Moriarty Mesa - United States

Red and green dress our doorsteps
as our holiday dreams of
smiles and laughter, friends and family
fill our hearts with warmth and love
Ms Jewel - United States

O heart, receive Him! "There is no room in the inn."
May that cease to be our case.
May our blessed Savior be most welcome
in our most holy place.
Nautili - United States

Flakes of snow have come to remind,
Regrets, sorrow should be left behind
Prayers, hopes n joy to everyone's mind,
Family come together for dinner and wine.
Nitesh Poojari - India

The rhythmic snow cascades and falls,
Its beauty overshadows the polar air,
And welcomes the Christmas season,
In a glorious dance the waltz …
Nisa - United States

Christmas morning, early, dark, silence abounds
Coffee in hand, watching the deer on the lawn
Waiting for the family, and their rising sounds
Is there anything more peaceful than Christmas dawn?
NoelHC - Canada

Writing out a list, while sitting in my room
Christmas is approaching everyone soon
Decorating my beautiful green tree
Fairy on top, presents underneath
Noodlebumble"Sye" - Scotland

The wheel of joyful tidings on my mind.
We celebrate love and the gift of life
Our hearts rid of hate and squalor
As we dance to the sounds of Christmas
Norbert Dwayne Weweh - Ireland

We came under the inspiration of poem
To celebrate you, often nobly, is your season come?
Delighted hands trenchant: you reign!
Creeping towards the Bethlehem to be born again.
Onyia-ota, Kingsley C. - Nigeria

The problem with his beard
when the child isn't looking
is the rustle that is heard
when he opens up the stocking
Pete Langley - United kingdom

A fire in the heart as angels sing
Young and old caroling sweet and clear
Wishes for love, and Peace on earth
Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year
Phibby Veneble - United States

Where the cold bites and snow may fall
there is always a lesson of beauty within for us all
hold the hand out, next to your own
see the unity of the season,that brings us home
Poppy Ruth Silver - United kindom

Let the tolling bells bring peace on Earth
Be the only fire, your yule-log's warmth
The only red, the cheer of holly
The only fallen … a snowflake's folly
Pryde Foltz - Canada

Excesses of the season have commenced
Remember those beyond your fence.
Beyond the reunions,parties and the food
Find in in your heart to do some good.
(Rachelle) Mara Lin - Philippines - China - UnitedStates

As we celebrate in feast this Christmas Day
may you heal our land and the sick
for your touch of love strengthen the weak
a perfect gift for Christmas Eve
Racquil - Philippines

To each in season warmed at the hearth
Soft carols play as we serenade by the fire
The little babe come of a ****** birth
We come to offer blessings of your desire
Realmwriter -United States

This Christmas cold with winter chill,
snow flows free upon the hill,
within the home, warmth from the hearth
parents give love and children laugh.
Richard Allen Beevor - Cyprus

Star of Bethlehem, snow in the air;
red suit, chimney soot, Santa beware.
The stars all sing from high above
and Christmas wraps my heart with love.
Richard Williams - United States

The warmth and love of those amassed
Gathered 'round the family tree
Brings cherished tales of Christmas past
And gifts us with sweet memory
Rita L. Sev - United States

There shone warm light on a cold night
with the angels over head
Keep watch along with the Wise-men
over this blessed child's bed
Ron - United States

Sharing the joys of sharing
sparkling how life meant to give
receiving the blessings of each day
hallmarking the key role of sharing and giving
Roy Mark Azanza Corrales - Philippines

Stockings hung,carols sung
Tinsel on the tree
Don't forget to thank the one
"Twas born in Galilee
Samuel Dickens - United States

The poinsettia alone in a darkened room
Faithfully again begins to bloom
No particular rhyme or reason
Just a beautiful reminder of Christmas season
Sharon L.H. Kelly - United States

A sunny celebration under a winter sun
never put up a tree, no presents
yet holiday spirit excites, brings fun
amidst cake, tales and dear ones: lovely time spent
Sindu - India

I found myself following the Christmas Star
To Bethlehem not too near or too far
Throughout the dessert I roamed
To meet the Christ Child at the Stable Home
SmittyJas - United States

Hoist the glass to men we once knew
those of us who passed on before
The moments shared with precious few
whose souls we knew in times of yore
Tate Morgan - United States

A feathered mess of ****** bird,
Let's feast the corpse no room for third,
Dear pudding flame cause acid nose,
Let's run it off St. Nick's repose.
Thomas - Ireland

Hope is born on Christmas Day
Bow our heads give thanks as we pray
Peace to family and all our friends
Peace to those across all lands
Tina Kline - Unites States

Another year has come to pass...
With many an opportunity missed...
Yearly resolve comes around so fast..
preceded by yuletide bliss
Timothy Woodfin - United States


Spirits or Christmases past,look on those who celebrate today
With the celebrants of Christmases to come, in life's circular way
We think of those who've past on gone, tell of times past we did enjoy
Knowing someday the child will talk of us, whose engrossed in his new toy..
Tomas O Carthaigh -Ireland

Remember Jesus love of mankind
As we celebrate the holiday
With family and friends
Spreading cheer and love to all
(Tootsie Harvey Novels) Valerie L Harvey - United States

Our lord was born into flesh and bone,
dazzling star above his manger shone,
came to pay our debt though vastly great,
that we may enter the pearly gates.
Valormore De Plume - United States

Dry sands in this winter season
Lonely may seem at heart we rejoice
Hiding vibrant happiness for some reasons
Life in this dome, still we enjoy
Willyam Pax - Saudi Arabia /Phillipines

With smiles all on the children's faces
old folks prepare stockings for the fireplace
Churches singing Amazing Grace
preparing his birthing place
Wordman - United States

"Lovebirds dance with Christmas song
Divine message make them happy
Children clatter ding **** ****
Christmas made them quite sappy"
Zainul - Bangladesh

From our family to yours please try to be good to one another this year. The Cafe is a refuge for us all to hang out, share our lives and dream

Merry Christmas Everyone !!!

Tate
Can a thought or feeling be larger than a universe? Love is the only trait that is worth remembering because it is meant to be given away selflessly. The recipient is as happy to receive it as you were to give it! To my friends those of you whom I hold dear If you'd like to be added to this years Canon message me. I will do my best to add you to this poem.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2013
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2014
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
Erenn Nov 2014
Aligned to unite
With others who lost their way
It’s a mess we perceived
To those in dismay
These lines create dreams 
For the broken
For the ones never spoken-
Of Love & Courage

Conjuring up notions of time
Structuring of desires preludes
To pursue what’s lost 
To preach and beseech truth
Faith denotes eternally
Surviving pain and deceit
What speaks only bleeds
To fabricate amity

Not fazed by power
But to denote greed
Greed of Love & Passion
Exhaling Hate & Deception
To succor the pillar of fate
To exist in this factual state

Your heart's a fragile thing. 
Everyone’s heart is. 
*Don’t ever contaminate hatred
Contaminate love instead.
We're only humans. We're not perfect.
We come in different colours.
Don't hate on things/someone you don't know.
Don't erase a race/religion with intent of hate
Contaminate love instead.
The door slid silently into position
Utter panic wrote its epitaph before
The air resisted, collapsing your boxed
Voice, hiccupping to a captured halt
Scrawny syllables, whithering
Slogans designed to entangle, split
Personality in tow, pushing sickening
Sentences to the back of your throat
Gagging the saliva of terror burning
Apart effortlessly. Remorse did not attend
Strangulating the heaving mass.........

The handle remained unturned, imagined
Fear felled you, trapped consciousness
Performing blackouts, dragging into a
Well of invisible discipline, conjuring
Paranoid stifling circles to spy with menace
Fading fast, blinking on hold, staring out
Slow motion heart rhythm journeyed
To cold climates leaving warmth unaccounted
For and you left on the cold cold slab

— The End —