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"elks" poems
Prophesies of impending fall      creep stealthily over the Great Divide. Gold-green Aspens shiver in the breeze      like leagues of fibrous wind chimes serenading the mountain slopes      with aires of shimmering gold. A few distant bugle calls echo      across the Big Thompson valley as bull elks warm up for the autumn rut.      Sudden early gusts of frigid wind bring waves of sleet and snow -      in tune with the turning polar axis. The greater chill is soon to come.      The animals know it as do we. Bears bulk up on grasses, roots and berries.      Elk and deer drift down from the heights To show their young the ways       of the plains and river valleys. We pull our sweaters on      and toss another log on the flames and greet the harbingers of approaching fall     creeping stealthily over the Great Divide. September, 2018
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Harbingers of Autumn
(Went out today, Charter boat Trinidad Bay Limited out on rock fish in two hours Watching Elks Head from the ocean, Grandpa) Isadore Called him Izzy Chewing all day on a fat cigar Looked at lot like Jimmy Durante His father stowed away on a ship Wasn't going to be a Russian military conscript Genocidal pogroms were coming how he knew we'll never know. Ended up in Philadelphia town, Scranton Pennsylvania Moved along to Brooklyn Stubby Izzy fighting it out with the Irish immigrants Dreaming of having a chicken farm over there in New Jersey Izzy met Grandma Sarah at the family clothing store they fought it out for 70 years The 60's book Games People Play They were the star attraction The friction was the glue that kept them together The friction was the match that lit their passion. Grandpa Izzy funniest man I ever met Drove an old 48 Ford selling housewares in the Southern route. In the morning far too early Sneaking into his room tickling his feet to the sounds of ohhs and hoho's At five years old Grandpa Izzy took me fishing on some New Jersey pond - Afternoon sun with yellow colors bringing all the foliage alive Sun setting fish rising a hand held in mine defined the peace I seek in reoccurring dreams through out a lifetime A troubled teen all suicidal the drive in the 48 Ford with Grandpa Izzy running down the Malibu pier catching the half day boat before it disappeared Grandpa Izzy never lived far from a race track I don't know about those losing days but the secret he said Was to never lose your sense of humor Always be able to laugh at yourself Izzy smoked those big old chewed cigars lived until he was 94 Ended up not knowing Who or where he was Maybe we all end up that way too But in my memory there is sharp focus he remains alive in me If heaven is there I know I'll find Izzy and I on that New Jersey pond, a fishing line and peace inside.
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Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Generations
(Went out today, Charter boat Trinidad Bay Limited out on rock fish in two hours Watching Elks Head from the ocean, Grandpa) Isadore Called him Izzy Chewing all day on a fat cigar Looked at lot like Jimmy Durante His father stowed away on a ship Wasn't going to be a Russian military conscript Genocidal pogroms were coming how he knew we'll never know. Ended up in Philadelphia town, Scranton Pennsylvania Moved along to Brooklyn Stubby Izzy fighting it out with the Irish immigrants Dreaming of having a chicken farm over there in New Jersey Izzy met Grandma Sarah at the family clothing store they fought it out for 70 years The 60's book Games People Play They were the star attraction The friction was the glue that kept them together The friction was the match that lit their passion. Grandpa Izzy funniest man I ever met Drove an old 48 Ford selling housewares in the Southern route. In the morning far too early Sneaking into his room tickling his feet to the sounds of ohhs and hoho's At five years old Grandpa Izzy took me fishing on some New Jersey pond - Afternoon sun with yellow colors bringing all the foliage alive Sun setting fish rising a hand held in mine defined the peace I seek in reoccurring dreams through out a lifetime A troubled teen all suicidal the drive in the 48 Ford with Grandpa Izzy running down the Malibu pier catching the half day boat before it disappeared Grandpa Izzy never lived far from a race track I don't know about those losing days but the secret he said Was to never lose your sense of humor Always be able to laugh at yourself Izzy smoked those big old chewed cigars lived until he was 94 Ended up not knowing Who or where he was Maybe we all end up that way too But in my memory there is sharp focus he remains alive in me If heaven is there I know I'll find Izzy and I on that New Jersey pond, a fishing line and peace inside.
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84
The ancient tacoma grainery, Stands in a corner of its own now. Tne dark tunnell still has leggs when she lets go. The dock street rail yard fills up the city like a loaf of hotnsteamy bread. Farther down our ambitious tycoon Stacks up condos, wheat pancakes, Is his breakfast of choice. They demolished the old elks club. Which sprung across the street like a walmart super store. Blue and yellow is workers vest perks and all.  Their members still grase for golfballs off the ten million dollar tees. There isnt much enjoyment, they'd rather drink. Last month my two foot clarks walked through the sliding dorrs hospitality. Wanting to see the high mountain of sucess, I looked for organic oats.   My minds to random. I inch up to the screen and see the faces of migrant workers, Hang like meat. After six months in america half the under employed, Are giving up. Deported with their children. My hope still goes out to the college students. And their first morgage of inflamatory dough. They all buy up every job still hoping for change. No marrijuana in public, Get away while the officers turn their backs, With their guns to pepper a face. In the taxing store. Im afraid we smoked heavilly. Love to the workers, Love to their vests. Everythings devoliping to quick. My new bike slices by cars of ritz crackers. Everthings been built to last. There nothing left to buil on, Only a few vacent lots that wait for tresspassers. One man dives through a trash can and isnt scared. He picks out a hamburger bun and eats his lunch.
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Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
Bread second
The ancient tacoma grainery, Stands in a corner of its own now. Tne dark tunnell still has leggs when she lets go. The dock street rail yard fills up the city like a loaf of hotnsteamy bread. Farther down our ambitious tycoon Stacks up condos, wheat pancakes, Is his breakfast of choice. They demolished the old elks club. Which sprung across the street like a walmart super store. Blue and yellow is workers vest perks and all.  Their members still grase for golfballs off the ten million dollar tees. There isnt much enjoyment, they'd rather drink. Last month my two foot clarks walked through the sliding dorrs hospitality. Wanting to see the high mountain of sucess, I looked for organic oats.   My minds to random. I inch up to the screen and see the faces of migrant workers, Hang like meat. After six months in america half the under employed, Are giving up. Deported with their children. My hope still goes out to the college students. And their first morgage of inflamatory dough. They all buy up every job still hoping for change. No marrijuana in public, Get away while the officers turn their backs, With their guns to pepper a face. In the taxing store. Im afraid we smoked heavilly. Love to the workers, Love to their vests. Everythings devoliping to quick. My new bike slices by cars of ritz crackers. Everthings been built to last. There nothing left to buil on, Only a few vacent lots that wait for tresspassers. One man dives through a trash can and isnt scared. He picks out a hamburger bun and eats his lunch.
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42
The glen where felled men slept Where the creek’s deep bed trembled, reeled Where the green ferns, restless, crept Where the breezes blew, flew, wheeled Where the trees, the sweet elms wept Where the gentle red wrens nested Where the elks, when freed, then stepped Where the fleet, serene deer rested Where the scented bells were kept Where the jeweled, fresh dew met green The glen where felled men slept, Where men were never seen
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Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 1:33 PM UTC
The Glen (using only the vowel 'e')
Joyous angels an entire night spent, singing with flutes they ceased to relent. Shepherds lowly pitch their dusty tent. A story indeed reminiscent of ageless advents when we all went to sing in churches in wintry Kent. In fright we gazed at Santa's beard length, in a speed sleigh drawn by the Elks' strength. We sought more fun for an extra cent. But after pleasure we did repent, speaking solemn words of a good gent: 'Oh, what a pleasant time in advent, to usher in the infant God sent.'
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May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 3:15 PM UTC
A Kid's Rhyme for Advent
Mr Cutler had passed away the room was cleared and ready for the next resident clean sheets pillowcase fresh blankets the curtains taken down and washed and dried and put up again but that didn't stop Sophia penning you in standing with her back to the door blocking your escape he is dead now? this Mr Cutler? yes died the other day you said nice bed she said you looked at the candlewick bed spread blue and smooth yes guess so you replied you gazed at her with her blonde hair tied in a pony tail her ice blue eyes focused on you her Polish English words harsh yet also soft you could **** me there she breathed rather than said too risky you said more exciting she uttered her Polish tongue brutalizing the English who will see? the old man dead who else will come in here? some old boy might come in by mistake you said an audience will add to the fun she breathed out the words you could smell their sensuality no I can't I have baths to do you uttered looking at the door behind her back they can wait she said or you could bath me first she said smiling I've got to go you said someone might need me I need you she uttered here on the bed I can't you said if you try to leave the room I will scream she said I will say you try to touch me up as you lot say she put one hand on a hip and the other against the door they wouldn't believe you you said let's try if I scream loud enough and cry they will she said she mimed opening her mouth and screaming ok you said no need to scream she smiled good boy I like you she said moving away from the door and unbuttoning her blue overall coat revealing her tight short dress her ******* pressing out the top she dropped her overall on a chair by the window and drew the curtains that's better no? it made the room darker the shadowy light made the moment surreal come on she said mustn't waste time and she began to undress and you stood there open mouthed and doomed when someone called your name down the passageway Mr Elks needs you where are you? oh **** Sophia said dressing quickly and standing by the sink out of sight of the door way sorry you said maybe another time and you opened the door and closed it behind you as Matron arrived ah there you are Mr Elks has been calling for you I think he needs to go to the bathroom o right you said just been making sure the place is ready nodding back at late Mr Cutler's room ok she nodded and gave the door a quick look and then went on ahead leaving Sophia dressing and forsaken no **** for her today and followed Matron with no more to say.
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Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:55 AM UTC
NO MORE TO SAY.
Mr Cutler had passed away the room was cleared and ready for the next resident clean sheets pillowcase fresh blankets the curtains taken down and washed and dried and put up again but that didn't stop Sophia penning you in standing with her back to the door blocking your escape he is dead now? this Mr Cutler? yes died the other day you said nice bed she said you looked at the candlewick bed spread blue and smooth yes guess so you replied you gazed at her with her blonde hair tied in a pony tail her ice blue eyes focused on you her Polish English words harsh yet also soft you could **** me there she breathed rather than said too risky you said more exciting she uttered her Polish tongue brutalizing the English who will see? the old man dead who else will come in here? some old boy might come in by mistake you said an audience will add to the fun she breathed out the words you could smell their sensuality no I can't I have baths to do you uttered looking at the door behind her back they can wait she said or you could bath me first she said smiling I've got to go you said someone might need me I need you she uttered here on the bed I can't you said if you try to leave the room I will scream she said I will say you try to touch me up as you lot say she put one hand on a hip and the other against the door they wouldn't believe you you said let's try if I scream loud enough and cry they will she said she mimed opening her mouth and screaming ok you said no need to scream she smiled good boy I like you she said moving away from the door and unbuttoning her blue overall coat revealing her tight short dress her ******* pressing out the top she dropped her overall on a chair by the window and drew the curtains that's better no? it made the room darker the shadowy light made the moment surreal come on she said mustn't waste time and she began to undress and you stood there open mouthed and doomed when someone called your name down the passageway Mr Elks needs you where are you? oh **** Sophia said dressing quickly and standing by the sink out of sight of the door way sorry you said maybe another time and you opened the door and closed it behind you as Matron arrived ah there you are Mr Elks has been calling for you I think he needs to go to the bathroom o right you said just been making sure the place is ready nodding back at late Mr Cutler's room ok she nodded and gave the door a quick look and then went on ahead leaving Sophia dressing and forsaken no **** for her today and followed Matron with no more to say.
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160
delighted brute flirts diamond cutter rising ice gloating elks haunt sick
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Haiku
I'm Deleted but I'm not yet depleted Listen to my conversation getting rare ****** heated About a strong relation being defeated Writing line in paper sheets pleated Its conceited One bar for my old man my pa Two far I pushed my luck too far Shared knowledge was the key His knowledge wasn't free But was most definitely biological to me I Ye Chat to me about settin it free When factually you couldn't get on ya feet Actually you admittin defeat About ya life that's always set on repeat Well get up man it won't mend its self And I'm on the roll in upon blending the milks I dug this hole and that I'm lining with pelts and I can see the distant vision like I'm hunting for elks Got bars for days till the sunshine rays penetrate the depression and eradicated the Obsession Cursed with a blessing Rehearsed what I'm guessing 10 years went by I haven't learnt a single lesson
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 1:44 AM UTC
Bleak speak
He was born somewhere in the western half of the United States. He had a mother and father, but they soon divorced. He grew up. He got married and had a family. He went to college. He got a job as a manager of a division of a company. He joined the Elks Club. He told a ribald joke at a meeting and everyone laughed. He had a 9 handicap, but when he looked in the mirror, he could see nothing. When he died, he was buried, but his tombstone was blank. TOD HOWARD HAWKS
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 2:19 PM UTC
A BIT OF AN OBIT
There was a smile I found, In the bushes of my lovers garden mound. It broke when lifted from its place, The pieces fed to the elks who graze. Nibbling softly on my dreams & notions While drinking  the waterfall of my emotions.
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Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 11:12 AM UTC
There was a smile
You used to be the highest of your order But look at you now You are fang and claw and bone While your prey dances around you Just out of reach You are only held together by glue and steel While your prey dances around you Squawking like the birds in your jaws Connected by flesh and blood That rightfully belongs in your forgotten belly Your prey that once feared you Raised spear and arrow at your footprints Now brings their young within inches of Those same claws That gutted the great elks of Ireland But look at you now You are fang and claw and bone While your prey dances around you Connected by flesh and blood That rightfully belongs in your forgotten belly
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Smilodon
Amidst reality of my life two single things remain inflection of your voice and glow of your tender eyes held safe by this memory we become transparent rain wild as the tidal waves of Bristol souls of no disguise fluid as the ocean with are open inlets giving rise sepia moments of a little cottage hidden in the cove the scent of sweet cinnamon and the taste of your clove the cackle sound of unseasoned wood against the brick we ****** the flavors of our passion, and called it love, holding on to each other, like flames on a candle wick molten wax and liquid centers with all I hold so dear when the moon comes into view the stars turn into glass willful moments arching as tender reeds adhere we spiral down the staircase, of God's Mandir we find the miracle of us, and know that it will last caught between two soft spots we are cloaked in silk like two lovers in heaven or two lonesome sacred elks amidst the reality of my life, two single things remain the taste of a kiss and the place from whence we came you my first love, were always right as rain. August 27, 2021
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Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 6:21 PM UTC
Vagabond Dreams
Melting as if dripping off the table silver beads rolling across the floor where where have you been all of my life the Elks Club Toledo Ohio is this anything if it is it's all in the delivery and timing time they say time flies flies when you are having fun but you seem to have gone by bus whit howland © 2021
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Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 7:51 PM UTC
Timepiece
In a realm beyond the polar Northern lights in vivid color Across the frozen tundra vast North winds bellow circling fast Where penquins skate on ice in snow The walrus's laugh out loud & roll Its there the reindeer & elks do frolic Dancing Elves are singing merry tunes Where Santa lives yes jolly ole St Nick Making children's wishes all come true
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
Christmas Wonderland