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Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
Elvis loved his peanut butter.

Gladys, who loved him the most,
as all good mothers love their children,
would feed him grilled Hawaiian bread
sandwich after sandwich of peanut butter
with chopped caramelized bananas,
or gently mashed fork bananas,
sometimes with bacon, sometimes without.

He dreamed of peanut butter and
Gladys would feed those dreams
with Fool’s Gold loaves made each of
one pound peanut butter, jelly and bacon
lovingly folded, like Graceland,
into  two foot slices of Italian bread,
cut by Gladys into pyramids
so the crusty part would never
hurt her Little King’s mouth.

He would go to bed with peanut butter
on his breath, on the roof of his mouth,
his tongue pressed to his palate so
that the peanut butter would never dissolve.
He would greet the dawn with
peanut butter morning breath,
peanut butter on his lips and  
peanut butter cloud swirls on his cheeks,
peanut butter like ant trails on
his satin pillow cases and King size sheets.

Gladys would be in the kitchen
plopping a tablespoon of buttery
peanut butter into  a skillet  
before adding two eggs and Canadian bacon.

The peanut butter shaving cream Elvis used
would still be on his neck and Gladys
would kiss it off in vampire pecks
that still made him squirm.
She would curl his cow lick  
in place, as she kissed his forehead  
smelling the scent of the peanut butter
pomade that gelled his beautiful pompadour.
.
And when she died, and he died,
it was those peanut butter kisses
he missed the most in his world.
Andrew M Bell Feb 2015
This is not you that lies before us,

beloved Aunt, for you live on

in our hearts, our souls, our minds

as the with racquet and a ready smile,

as the doting older sister

with eyes shining like a proud spotlight

on two little girls on a crowded stage,

singled out and made special by your love.


You do not lie here cold and lifeless,

beloved Aunt, for you live on

in the warmth of your laughter

and your bright shining lively dancing eyes

and your girlish peaches-and-cream complexion

and in the memories

of two small nephews

in the endless summer of childhood

conquering the diving tower at Jellicoe Baths

or frolicking at Mission Bay

and you capturing all our shared and happy memories

with your trusty Box Brownie.
Copyright Andrew M. Bell. I wrote this poem as my eulogy to be read at the funeral of my Aunt Gladys who died on Christmas Eve, 1997, aged 90. My mother's two older sisters never married and lived in their original home built from kauri in Epsom, Auckland with my grandmother until, one by one, they died. Gladys was the eldest of four children and was aged 16 when my mother was born. The other sister, Gwendolene, was only two years my mother's senior. My Mum was the baby of the family.

Gwen was working when we would visit Grandma's as children, but Glad had retired and she would give Mum a break by taking us on all sorts of outings. My parents never owned a camera when we were growing up, but, thanks to Glad, many of our growing moments were captured in black and white on her trusty Kodak Box Brownie. My brothers and I loved our Aunty Glad with all our hearts and she loved us very much too.
Yes its big yosef a true heavy weight makin' earthquakes through all states watch for the snakes
In the grass never front for the cash who wanna clash?
With a mighty Titan I'm on a God status love hoes with the **** size of Trish stratus
Now tell me who's the baddest
ya on a one way trip with Gladys Knight
On a Midnight train to Georgia no one heard of ya
Ya flows is wack your skull will get crack ******' with the mack
I make a love connection from my smif and wesson learned ya lesson no plexin'
On my team one man supreme like  a lion i be the king makin' suckas sing
Lullabies I feel ya soul cry reaching for the sky
Ain't no ******* allowed puff a cloud til the city unda a smoke shroud
Fools Talk loud but die silent known to be be violent
If provoked by a fake loc my pistol loves to smoke it stays high
Leavin' holy bodies to fry
Who could outwrite this? my style will diss rhymes deeper than an abyss make ya ****
Out ya own blood as  ya face down in the mud with no crud
Touchin' my eyes sleep with one eye
Open scopin' and hopin' got more scams than Ken Copeland I'm still floatin'
On cloud nine almost to ten sippin' gin never see me grin my lyrics touchin'
Every last one of you wack rappers so come again.....
Kay Meraz Sep 2012
Misunderstood, even by the ones closest to her.
The pain I see in her eyes,
I'll never apprehend.
Everyday struggles overpower
the smile she forces herself to wear.
The song in her core
yearns to be heard,
but remains reticent.
Her courage to take on the next day
with the weight of the world on her back,
and a glimmer of HOPE,
animates my broken heart.
about my cousin, who struggles everyday, but always keeps a beautiful smile on her face, and remains positive for the rest of us.
Traveler Nov 2017
Always in session
Wandering eyes
Imaginations
Personally
Applied

Local justice
Nosy neighbors
Miss Krevitz
Legislatures
  
Undisputed assumptions
The finality of judgement

Sentence Brokers
Providing ease
Jurisdiction
Lock and key

Gladys Krevitz
Always peeks
....
Traveler Tim
bewitched
TheUnseenPoet Apr 2021
Get your bra on Gladys
Lockdown is nearly done
Shave your legs and brush your pegs
Let's get out in the sun.
Put your perm on Doris
Get your hair all in a curl
Some lippy in red and a hat on your head
I'll take you out for  a whirl.
Bin the slippers Mabel
Squeeze your bunions into some heels
A top tight at the bust is really a must,
And I'll pick you up in my wheels.
Chuck out the onesie Doris,
I know that you just didn't care,
In fact stay at home, I prefer being alone
And there's too many people out there.
Curious with night things,
Manuel and his dog dug up the returned.
Their eased mind's local was already watered. 
Gladys and the mighty
came awake for the recognitions.
The returned gave praises to Manuel and his curiosity.
They ate breakfast for dinner together. 
Soul as food.
Break your bread.
Break your back.
Set your table. 
Lickety split was.
Manuel and his dog are.
Gladys and the mighty is:
allow always...loci.
Allen Wilbert Sep 2013
Best Week Ever

Just had my best week of all time,
I'm 42 but still in my prime.
Spent some time with Brittany Spears,
I left her begging and in tears.
After a night with Beyonce,
she wanted me to be her fiance.
Just one night with Pink,
now she can't even blink.
Had a date with Katy Perry,
she asked me to pop her cherry.
Spent some time with J-Lo,
she was more sloppy than a joe.
Rihanna likes to play rough,
**** she looks good in the buff.
Me and Fergie ate some black eyed peas,
then we were joined by Alicia keys.
Had a blast with Taylor Swift,
we did it on a ski lift.
Avril Lavinge wanted it never to end,
now she wants to be her boyfriend.
I turned Miley Cyrus back into Hannah Montana,
its a secret what we did with a banana.
Me and Kesha sang her hit Tik Tok,
then she ****** on my clock.
Selena Gomez is a witch no more,
I turned her into my little *****.
Carrie Underwood won't slash my tires,
the heat between us started some fires.
Gwen Stefani left the singer from Bush,
she loved the way I smacked her ****.
Lady Ga Ga showed me her poker face,
with her I reached every base.
Me and Lita Ford kissed each other deadly,
then she sang me a **** medley.
Madonna said I was her best,
we spent no time dressed.
I was man enough for Sheryl Crow,
let me tell you, she can really blow.
As the week ended, I had Shakira moving her hips,
then I woke up and it was an **** with Gladys Night and her Pips.
arubybluebird Nov 2013
There is something intimate in the way you place commas in sentence.
It's as if each paragraph alone is a love letter within a love letter.
You say "Gladys, good morning. I love you."
And I sort of melt a little on the inside.
You say, "*******, Gladys. Never, never tell me that
what I feel for you is not love."
And I know it in my veins and in my mind,
which are more endearing than my heart,
that I love you, too.

I hope you can feel the sincerity in my commas.
Lori Carlson Nov 2010
Hands busily stitch patterns in and out,
five sets on each side of a long board.
I, with the youngest hands, watch and listen
with intent to the elder women of my family.

Janie now has her last child; no boys to carry
the family line on to the next generation.
Tom, like his father's father before him,
has survived his first year of the Marines.
Ginny has divorced again, the third time,
with the fourth child for Aunt Gladys to raise.

Their hands, experienced in fine stitchery,
never skip a line, lightly sketched upon satin.
Their eyes rarely know what their hands do.
Like instincts of childbirthing, these women know
when to say this square has had all its stitches,
and then move on the next one.

Their lives are like that, moving in and out,
slowly building one link to another,
holding their children to them with fine thread.
© 1997,  Iona Nerissa

All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson.
Please seek permission before using any of my writings.
~Lori Carlson~
arubybluebird Aug 2013
I feel
Yes, I feel
That sometimes it is necessary to be cynical
There just comes that breaking point
Where you have to get out of your maddening mind
Face your own reflecting image in a mirror
And say those few words
Those few words that hold the truth
To your million faulting thoughts

"You're not as bad as you think you are, Gladys"
write it down and read it out loud, if you must .
you're not as bad as you've let yourself deceive.
Still be hoggin' in the game
Ya know my name
Yosef is the same
That was since i was born
N served my cain
I got these hippies going insane
Against the grain
I drop the real **** blood ****
That start wars n ****
Reach my hands in the pulpits
Of hell broke out the cell
Now all exposed is hell i dont yell
I let my guns brag n tell
N you can tell i been through drama
By lookin' into my eyes
Ya see a cold glare stoppin' stare
Ya cant figure me out im all.about
Big bens franklins to washingtons
Dolla dolla bill yall i stand tall
With my hand on my *****
Slap it across ya jaws
Now how it taste to be the big boss
Im.outta space
My layers come in ozone so why dont ya phone home
***** i hit a switch pop a lick
Now ya laying hands clutched
In a casket
Stiff n cold ya neva thought yya could fold
But i broke through ya mold
Rode with the baddest OGs
Your game is the saddest **** ****
Like Gladys
Night im on the midnight train to Georgia
So pour me up some of that drank
Sit n park my mind n thank
Uh all my enemies couldnt the best of me
Cuz they wanna get paper like me
Cheese is stinkin' got ya eyes blinkin'
So fast im gone like a lightening flash
N ya can call it what ya want
But the west side riders is gone taunt


Yea fools im old school like Rodney O
With everlasting bass fo
Ya *** finish yo *** with the chrome thats stash
My heaters make ya sweat im an imminent
Threat so forget
All that chit chat
These cats aint spittin' facts
Facts is they wack as soulja boy
Droppin' Superman never been a fan
Of ***** **** im down for gangsta ****
Roll with OGs n TGs who push ozs to keys
No fleas
No me cuz im sucker free **** the industry
Im callin' out everybody
That done did it o ya ******* ya been admitted
To my ICU Camp
Ya couldnt even pay ya way out
With a billion dolla foodstamps
I hit ya with stamp ya know im postal
Quick to grab a pistol split yo temple
100s or 300s spinnin' off the box top
Caprice 84 with vogues n switches on hop
Cant stop wont stop
Its still one eighty seven on a undacovee cop
Beat the case cuz i keep been big bens in my case check the smile on my face
We aint grimy we shining hotter than sun
The luminous one knock off the crumbs
Off my table cuz yall aint able
To handle me too hot to touch
N if ya try my whole clique gone blow up
On you what ya gone do?
Red white or blue?
Doi have to spell it naw ill just let my past deade enemies tell it!!!
As tha vinyl goes round and round
Put my vocals on the sound
Make minds astound
Like they blazed a pound
spiritually buried in a ground
Many awaited so many hated debated
But ya only created
A bigger badder mc flawless the rawest
To ever touch a beat leave ya off ya feet
Ya in high heels drink Dom P no spills
Ice chills windmills sittin' on the 22s rims
Tilted brim far for slim lights dim
Smoke sessions prepare for the aggression
When fools hear my sound they'll start a recession
Lyrically insane off my brain
No pain no gain pushin' weight in differ states made estates hold ya pate
Cuz it's bound to get popped off ya soft
As Doughboy check my rhyming ahoy
Gettin' girlies made joy don't act coy
My apparatus the baddest yours the saddest
A **** without Gladys
I'm on the Midnight train to Georgia
Got some led for ya
Caps I peelin' more than onions
Leavin' nigguhs holy like funions
Funk baby born in the eighties
I'm the shadiest of the shady
Hate me now but it's all gravy
Burnin' emcees like Monks thai skunk
Put the funk
In my mind always on the grind
Watch for one time and I'm
Never gonna die from this
Respect ya royal highness
Check my pedigree ya gonna wanna
re-re-re rewind this







****** stop pretendin'
The masquerade is over
I thought David Porter told ya
The massacre just begun
When my guns bust fools begin to run
Into four-corner hustlers street jugglers
And stick up mugglers
Bounce my **** I'm the hardest to hit
Guard ya **** this a blow harder than Tyson
Sweep up the street call me Dyson Slicin'
Competition to pieces for stereo thesis
As my brain increases droppin' feces
That cant eradicate or debate
End up bitin' they own death date
Ivs' pumpin' from the leds dumpin'
Blood clots bumpin' body humpin'
This is a take over I don't pull til the nut is over
Never see me sober refer to me as Jehovah
Positionin' plots when emcees touch the spot
End up mad shot???
Askin' who shot ya? Nobody knows
It's the Htown ****** raw and hyper
160 kills with out the trickle of a sweat
I make more threats than a terrorist
George Bush couldn't even stop it
Mass mayhem slam opponent til they open
Dilate pupils after the loot principle
***** tricks haters can *******
Neck slit now ya can't talk ****
No love I'm in it Cuz im greedy
Don't feed the needy I'm black as Nefertiti
Yall can't see me
Even if yall wanted too
Chumps talkin' like they smoke me
But I'll have stunned more than Haitian Voodoo


victor tripp Sep 2013
Little RICHARD the proclaimed self architect of rock and roll sang out high pitched about GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY you sure like to ball when your rocking and rolling can't hear your mama call OTIS REDDING sang about SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY while RICHIE VALENS played his guitar singing LA BAMBA and FATS DOMINO found his thrill on BLUEBERRY HILL than MARVIN GAYE crooned through the mike that  I HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE and IF I COULD BUILD MY WHOLE WORD AROUND YOU PAT BOONE related to pioneer DANIEL BOONEspent  his day WRITING LOVE LETTERS IN THE SAND THE  COASTERS sang about that lazy CHARLIE BROWN  JOHNNY RAY sang about THE LITTLE WHITE CLOUD THAT CRIED  as GLADYS KNIGHT AND THE PIPS about taking THAT MIDNIGHT TRAIN  TO GEORGIA and IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN meanwhile THE FIFTH DIMENSION  sang about ONE LESS BELL TO ANSWER  one less egg to fry one less man to pick up after I should be happy but all I do is cry CLAUDE MCPHATTER in true rock and roll style  sang WHITE CHRISTMAS and RICKY NELSON sang POOR LITTLE FOOL AND TRAVELING MAN when I heard about THE BEATLES I  thought they were coming over the water to eat up our crops but they had  A YELLOW SUBMARINE sweet and wholesome CONNIE FRANCIS asked WHERE THE BOYS ARE some CHAINGANG and CUPID draw back your bow and let your arrow go straight to my lovers heart for me ALLAN FREED an unknown disc jockey tagged the new wild music ROCK AND ROLL DEAN MARTIN sang AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD and somewhere  along my musicial journey  I heard the great piano mover and confess  I watched all of his films  MARIO LANZA formed and shaped my love for opera with BE MY LOVE for no one else can fill this yearning ,I went out and brought an album of the wonderful singer actor activist HARRY BELAFONTE and freely admit that during that time I was a teenager with limited funds but saved up the money just so that I could hear  BELAFONTE sing SCARLETT RIBBONS  and the infectious DAY O sunlight come and me want to go home come mr  tally man tally me bananas and than QUINCY JONES known as Q  wrote the theme for SANFORD AND SON and produced THE FRESH PRINCE OF BELAIR starring WILL SMITH ,WE ARE  THE WORLD AND OFF THE BLOCK ISAAC HAYES black tall barechested  draped in gold chains won an OSCAR for singing and composing SHAFT which was before he acted in TRUCK TURNER  IKE also sang I STAND  ACCUSED of loving you to much and I hope that you don't mind PAUL ROBSON in deep bass  sang OLD MAN RIVER in his career he was a lawyer actor scholar outstanding athlete singer  finally THE BIG BOPPER sang CHANTILLY LACE and a pretty face and a pony tale hanging down he died to soon in a plane crash along with RICHIE VALENS and BUDDY HOLLY who sang THAT WILL BE THE DAY
Red Fox Dec 2015
I can't sing
I don't dance
But I can make these words
Prance across this page
And soothe you with melodious rhymes of my life at a glance.

I'll never be Trey
but I can write poems into Songz
I'm not soulful like Gladys
But I write these poem to be someone's shining Knight
I'm a spur of the moment poet
Nothing more and probably less
I'll never be the greatest
But I'm glad I got these words off my chest.

I can float like a butterfly
And sting like a bee
But growing up I realized
I'm kinda good looking
So fighting really wasn't for me.
I'm 6 foot 3
Can dunk and dribble a ball
But I have a bad knee
So I'm just another guy that's tall.

So for now your stuck with my poems
At least until I find something better to do
But I have to stop somewhere
So I'll end it with this.
I think you're all way better poets than me
But I won't give up til you all
Know I Exist
Just writing because I have nothing better to do at work
Cease the red dragon im stabbin'
deep in ya heart
mount zion is where my destiny started
but now im parted
deep in the land of the lost loss souls
still tryna find themselves
through religions instituted by man
i don't take no for an answer infectin' like breast cancer
epidemic flows thermogenic
causin' instant sweat terrorist threats so they keep on the radar
like navy ships take short dips
bang on beats like bloods to crips
i go on and on like Gladys KNight and the pips
skip skip over critics wicked sadistic mystique
with the style i send  comprehend
tryna find my way
back to Mount Zion but im blurred brain fryin'
from all the heat im catchin' to my intellect
break through the sweat it's war
we at the verge of a battle so girls stop movin' ya rattle
rode worlds saddle too long im stuck in the killin' fields
fightin' my way back to promise land with much contraband
haters trespassers will be hung
frontin' like friends but ain't down with Black Na-tion
it's the return of Mount Zion
Yo pull down ya skirt
 so i can put in the work
the perks
 of ya kitten fillin' the atmosphere
 i'm **** near 
star struck like i been stuck
 by cupids arrow i see in the barrio
 lookin' ****
can ya picture me next to thee
 baby girl stop playin' let me
in so i can show how to hit it
 **** up ya juice neva spit it
 bruise ya
do thangs ya man never done i got ya sprung and when i get u into the bedroom watch how the bed springs sing
 beautiful melodies like Aaliyah
i go back n forth you push i push 
so we on the same tune
as ya body sweatin' more than like we in the month of June
 so when i hit it ya know
im leavin' a stain on ya membrane
 can't maintain
the more ya bounce
the more come with the ounce
 as i boogie to the Brooklyn
beat with my Jesus Piece
 as ya on ya face *** up see the moonlight glarin' im starin' 
into the world of darkness mark this i promise ya wont forget get this


Uh


Hall of fame
legacy In with Detriot Pimps Game tight Like Gladys Knight Without the pips no SIMPs 
Over here I hang with the baddest ***** 
Was down from.rags to riches
Now girlies on my stello 
Cuz they know
when I go The ******* get wet For ******>Rocking crowds
 Don't need a mic to get loud 
Baby open that sess
 And let's puff a cloud
 And let's get rowdy
 When we make sweat Its like romeo and Juliet When we met 
Ya don't see the sweat
I see Dripping From ya hair 
While.ya tease strippin' 
Moving ya hips got me hypnotize
 From.ya eyes and between ya thighs Surprise 
Babygirl give me some that kat
 And I'll.eat like a rat No slack
 My game is strong Long grown
 She was a hot stitch from.Queens
 Freaky as hell If ya know what I mean???
She was a hot stitch from.Queens
 Freaky as hell If ya know what I mean???
Jill Tait Aug 2020
Hamish McTagish was a wild hairy Haggis
He dwelled amongst the hills & glens
His doting wife was hairy Gladys
She loved to entertain their friends

High up in the Highlands of Scotland
These wild beasties roamed
Their wild, shaggy manes grew down there backs
& Were not often combed

Haggises understood their accent
But visitors didn’t have a clue
No one knew what was meant
By “Had ya weeshed” & “Och aye the noo”

Whilst Mr Hamish walked clockwise
Larger legs were on the right
His shaggy better half was the opposite to him
What a most peculiar sight

So going round in circles
Side-winding up the hills
Everyone watching in amazement
Their movement gave folk thrills

With piggy like snouts & beady eyes
Long strands of unruly mops
A swarm of bugs & bluebottles
Kept warm & cozy in their crops

This rather rare unusual breed
It survived for hundreds of years
But man got a taste for Haggis
It wiped them out & all their peers

Boil Haggis in a bag
Microwave it in a dish
Theres loads available in the shops today
Tho there not alive now, I wish🤣
i was watching
Shane's funeral

beautiful
and deservingly so

and i wondered
who would come to my funeral???

(debt collectors
police
2 x-wives
DEA)
(surely
i'm heading to purgatory)

perhaps she'll come
the woman who wants to be a mortician
i meant her at the liquor store

i answered her ad
in the A.P. press,
it read, as follows:

Female, a young 60
likes UFO stories
and exorcisms
loves to watch autopsies,
has a potato chip
that looks like D. Trump!
(not for sale)
will be in front of BY-WAY Liquor store
7 a.m. Tuesday. Gladys.

and one thing
led to another
SO,
here i am
and the the smoke
from the camp
fire's
burning my eyes
i'm on my 18th can
of miller light
Gladys and me
are looking for
UFO s
Mike Hauser Apr 2014
As time quickly approaches
On the planed escape
Gunther smuggles the files in
While Mildred bakes the cake

But that doesn't much matter
For our two on the run
In all the confusion
The oven was never turned on

So they slipped out the front door
When Gladys the receptionist was gone
Out for her morning coffee
And cigarette on the lawn

They made it as far as the sidewalk
As far as the authorities could tell
When they both turned around
Before their bladders gave out

They need a new plan of escape
One that can be followed with ease
Before it's to late
Since they're both weak in the knees

Our hero's will have to wait another day
For their chance at freedoms song
For now they'll hang up their walkers
And devise another plan on getting gone

It was a heated night of Bingo
When Gunther got the idea
They'd go out with the wash
In a basket both hid

So they packed up their dentures
Along with their Poly Grip
As both of them readied
For their laundry trip

Now in the back of the truck
Rolling down 95
Same age as our escapee's
If you care to count time

They later hijacked the truck
When the driver they sacked
Now they travel life's highway
With nothing but the wind to their back
Wrote this for a friend that wanted some poems that she could read to her mom and fellow inmates at her nursing home...Hope they like it!
arubybluebird Aug 2014
I hope you are well. Truly. My name is gladys, I am twenty-two, this is not an autobiography. This one time I almost crashed my car into a metal sign post in order to not run over a pigeon. I often leave secret notes hidden between the pages of books from my favourite authors in public libraries and book stores. I never got my photograph/ senior quote published in my graduating class' yearbook in high school because I am eminently indecisive. I don't mind it, however, I sort of like the idea of it, a somewhat absent nostalgia. I really like it when people unthinkingly do kind things for other people. I like the color blue, a lot, although I rarely wear it. I use commas quite excessively in my writing. I like that they indicate a brief pause but are not as final as periods. I like many things, I like to do face exercises and arm stretches at night before I go to sleep. And that, that is all. For now.
You are wonderful, goodnight.
Nyalala Feb 2016
GLADYS
She smiles with a bright flash from a distance
she walks with much confidence and courage
she brights up the day like no one else does
I tell her; "True love is destined for you and me.
If we follow what we feel inside then,
we will be together for forever.
I just can’t change the way I feel about you and
my greatest wish is to build my world
around you. There is nothing that people
can do to change how I feel about you
and baby whatever you do don’t give me
a reason to doubt you. I feel our
love showering like rain.
I want us to have a home and give you
my love forever.
I can never see myself living my life without you.
I will give my love to no one else only
your love will rule. With every passing day
my love for you grows more and more,
every day I feel our love stronger than the
day before. I still remember the first day
we kissed, we were too shy to say much at
all it’s funny to think back to that time because
now we're having this! They say that true
friendship and love is rare. An adage that
I believe to be true genuine friendship and
love is something that I cherish. I am so
lucky to have met you. Our bond is extremely
unique. It is unique in its way. We have
something irreplaceable.  I love you more
and more each day. We've been through
so much together. In so little time,
we've shared I will never forget all the
moments that you've shown me how
much you cared. Friends are forever
especially the bond that you and I possess.
I love your fun-filled personality.
Somehow you never fail to impress.
The world could use more people like you
it would certainly be a better place.
I love everything about you.
You are someone I could never replace.
You are always there for me when my
spirits need a little lift; I cannot thank
you enough for that.
You are truly an extraordinary gift.
You are everything to me and more".
She smiles and kiss me
and tells me you are the best i have.
Commuter Poet Sep 2016
In passing
Curved channels
Of green, brown and blue
I absorb information

‘Easy rider’
‘Star gazer’
‘Barge Gladys’

Where will you go?
Where will you end?

Such labels and markers sing
‘I made this’
‘I made that’
‘I am…this!’

Imprinted pride
Everywhere
Screams out names
For us
To forget

Grazing cows
Pay no heed
To the comings and goings
The ownings and claimings

And why should I?

The efforts of the dead
Our forefathers, foremothers
Rest beneath our feet

We break them
We use them
Unravelling the knots of the past
To smooth a silk pathway
To the future

Life’s suckling femininity
Never ending
A flow of humanity
Beats on

How strange our inventions
How peculiar our spirits

We add something daily
Without even knowing
1st September 2016
Pose your chihuahua near a pile of **** dumped by a malamute and exclaim: “Look how much my chihuahua ****!” Of what interest have I in offing those 2 billion souls inhabiting the moon? Odd Ted Kennedy made it to his damp hole in Arlington face-down to appease the cybernetic Grays who (from the moon) collect, monitor, place & correct maturing souls. One may hustle freely bad advice & bustle. One needn't dread the locks when bagels are scarce. Some of us fear delinquent fish (fish playing hooky). Look at Eleanor Roosevelt's luscious *** and see how it remains fragrantly (& flagrantly) aloof to the moon's terse vagaries.
Elaenor Aisling Jul 2019
Contractions
With each tap of the telegraph wire
A physician and a hotel room
A season out of turn
A baby too early.

Mrs. Sullavan and Mrs. McFarlin,
The hard-wrought Irish women who
Understood the pain radiating through your hips
Called to you softly through the fog
Placed your still Gladys in your arms
As your warmth slipped
From her tiny body.
A bud cut from its branch
Wilting in your hands.

Your husband’s arms wrapped around you,
Your screams come down through the years, curdling,
As the blood kept pouring onto the sheets
His Mary, dying, a year’s moments after saying “I do”
A year to love, and then have it torn from the womb
Where it should have continued to blossom.
A flower cut from its branch
Wilting in his hands.

His arms were the last things you felt
As your heart stopped
And his shattered.

Mrs. Sullavan and Mrs. McFarlin
The hard-wrought Irish women
Who wept with your mother
Coaxed your husband to eat
And scrubbed the sheets in the sun,
Recited their prayers
With a rosary of tiny tombs
For the buds and the flowers
Ripped from their branches.










Author’s Note:
This poem is based on a letter found in some of my family’s records. Some liberties of imagination have been taken with events. A transcript and photograph of the letter is below.

Denver Colorado, October 29th, 1891

Mrs Serena J. ****

Dear Madam,

     We feel it our duty to write you a letter although we feel it is a painful task. We will do by you as we would wish you to do for us under similar circumstances.
     Your daughter Mary, and husband arrived at our hotel about 9am on the 27th. Her husband had telegraphed to Denver while he was yet some distance from here for a physician and a room and she was brought directly here to the hotel on arriving here. Your daughter was kindly received by us and her husband was as attentive and kind to her as it was possible for him to be, and is almost heart broken over the death of his wife. Mary died in her husband’s arms.
     Let not your heart be troubled. I have seen you through the sixth trouble and I will not forsake you in the seventh. May the good lord protect you and Mary’s father, and may your last days be your best days.
     Mary and her baby are in heaven, and if we are faithful until death, we shall meet her on that beautiful shore.


God Bless You,
Mrs. Mary Sullavan and Mrs. Sarah A. McFarlin


Note from unknown source: Aunt Mary had written my mother that if her baby was a girl she was going to name it Gladys. The baby was a girl and died at birth. I was born just a little over two months later, Jan 2, 1892. And Mama named me Mary Gladys after Mary and the baby.
It'smeAlona May 2018
A shot in my head
The pain in my chest
The scars on my skins,
Is equal to my Love for you.

All the hopes are gone
All the memories are lost
But my love for you is still beating with my heart.

There is something missing,
In my head, in my chest, in my skin, in my heart.
That completes my hopes, my memories and Love.
May I call you my Piece, that will make me whole again?

(Credits to my friend Gladys
What if it wasn't God
but was in fact
Gladys?

we'd have trouble saying
'our Father' then.

Those old patriarchs
put their quills down on
papyrus and wrote a script
which they acted out
to teach us
God was male and man was God,

could be Gladys though.

— The End —