"lori" poems
Maa ki mamta ko dekh maut v
aage se hat jati hai
gar maa apmanit hoti
dharti ki chaati fat jaati hai
ghar ko pura jeevan dekar
bechari maa kya pati hai
rukha sukha kha leti hai
paani *** kar soo jati hai
Jo maa jaisi devi ghar ke
mandir me nahi rakh sakte hai
wo lakho punya bhale kar le
inshan nahi ban sakte hai
maa jisko v jal de-de
wo paudha sandal ban jata hai
maa ke charno ko chukar paani
Gangajal ban jata hai
Maa ke anchal ne yugo-yugo se
Bhagwano ko pala hai
maa ke charno me jannat hai
Girijaghar aur Shivala hai
Himgiri jaisi unchai hai
sagar jaisi gahrai hai
dunia me jitni khushboo hai
maa ke anchal se aaye hai
Maa kabira ki sakhi hai
maa tulsi ki chaupai hai
meerabai ki padawali
khusru ki amar rubai hai
maa angan ki tulsi jaisi
pawan bargad ki chaya hai
maa ved richao ki garima
maa mahakavya ki maya hai
Maa maansarovar mamta ka
maa gomukh ki unchai hai
maa parivaro ka sangam hai
maa rishto ki gahrai hai
maa hari dubh hai dharti ki
maa keshar wali kyari hai
maa ki upma kewal maa hai
maa har ghar ki phulwari hai
Saato sur nartan karte jab
koi maa lori gaati hai
maa jis roti ko chu leti hai
wo prasad ban jati hai
maa hasti hai to dharti ka
jarra-jarra muskata hai
dekho to dur kshtiz ambar
dharti ko sheesh jhukata hai
Mana mere ghar ki deewaro me
chanda si murat hai
par mere man ke mandir me
bas kewal maa ki murat hai
maa saraswati lakshmi durga
ansuya mariyam sita hai
maa pawanta me ramcharit
manas me bhagwat geeta hai
Amma teri har baat mujhe
vardaan se badhkar lagti hai
he Maa teri surat mujhko
bhagwan se badhkar lagti hai
saare teerath ke punya jaha
mai un charno me leta hu
jinke koi santan nahi
mai un maawo ka beta hu
Har ghar me Maa ki puja **
Aisa sankalp uthata hu
Mai dunia ki har maa ke
Charno me ye sheesh jhukata hu.....
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
Jab aankh khuli to amma ki
godi ka ek sahara tha
uska nanha sa anchal mujhko
bhumandal se v pyara tha.....
uske chehre ki jhalak dekh
chehra phulo sa khilta tha
uske stan ki ek bund se
mujhko jeevan milta tha
haatho se baalo ko noocha
pairo se khoob prahar kia
phir v us maa ne puchkara
humko jee bhar ke pyar kia
Mai uska raja beta tha
wo ankho ka tara kahti thi
mai banu budhape me uska
bas ek sahara kahti thi
ungli ko pakad chalaya tha
padhne vidlaya bheja tha
meri naadani ko v neej
antar me sadasaheja tha
Mere saare prashno ka wo
fauran jawab ban jaati thi
meri raho ke kaante chun
wo khud gulaab ban jaati thi
mai bada hua to college se
ek rog pyar ka le aaya
jis dil me maa ki murat thi
wo ramkali ko de aaya
shaadi ki pati se papa bana
apne rishto me jhul gya
ab karwa chauth maanta hu
maa ki mamta ko bhul gya
hum bhul gye uski maamta
mere jeevan ki thati thi
hum bhul gye apana jeevan
wo amrit wali chaati thi
Hum bhul gye wo khud bhukhi
rah karke hume khilati thi
humko sukha bistar dekar
khud geele me soo jaati thi
hum bhul gye usne hi
hotho ko bhasha sikhlayi thi
meri neendo ke lie raat bhar
uss maa ne lori gaayi thi
hum bhul gye har galti par
usne danta samjhaya tha
bach jau buri najar se
kala teeka sada lagaya tha
hum bade hue to mamta wale
saare bandhan tod aaye
bangle me kutte paal laye
maa ko vridhaashram chod aaye
apano sapno ka mahal girakar
kankar -kankar been laye
khudgargi me uske suhag ke
aabhushan tak cheen laye
Hum maa ko ghar ke batware ki
abhilasha tak le aaye
usko paawan mandir se
gaali ki bhasha tak le aaye
to be continued ........(next part may be in next week)
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Usually people will say
happy birthday without
actually caring for the day
I am a lout
I had no idea the 26th was so important
Instead of perusing thoughts I laid dormant
Had I risen from fake wars in Afghanistan
I would have noticed it was the birthday of Lori Callahan!
I apologize for missing such a special date.
I hope it was one that no others can equate
For you deserve a day to yourself
and a special memory to put upon a shelf
Happy Birthday Lori! A friend so sweet.
Happy Birthday Lori! I hope someone massaged your feet.
Happy Birthday Lori! I hope you had a cake with candles.
Happy Birthday Lori! May this year be guided by angels.
Happy Birthday Lori Callahan!
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
Aa ab laut chalein apne ghar
Aa ab laut chalein apne ghar
Bht lamba hogaya yeh safar
Jaha teri shetaniyon ka manzar tha
Jaha pyar ka samndar tha
Jaha thak kar sona ata tha
Jaha har kona muskurata tha
Jaha beeta har din yadgaar tha
Jaha ka har pal suhana khwab tha
Aa laut chalein apne ghar
ab bht taay kar liya yeh safar
jaha khul kar tu bhi hansti thi
jaha muskura mein bhi leta tha
jaha teri badmashiyo mein
bacha me bhi bann leta tha
jaha naachti tu thi aur jhumta me tha
jaha bachon si ladhai aur dil ka mehal tha
jaha na kabhi dur hone ka dar
na adhuri koi aas thi
jaha sath beshumar tha aur poori har saans thi
jaha rote rote hans dete the hum
na koi fikar ki bat thi
jaha ghanton batein karte the hum
ghadi ki sui na humare sath thi
Aa laut chalein apne ghar
Bht lamba hogaya yeh safar
Jaha tera kam se ana tha
Phr mujhko gale lagana tha
Jaha teri bematlab ki baton me
Mera kahn gum hojana tha
jaha har sapna jee rahe the hum
jaha nahi thi kisi ki koi sharam
jaha dikhawa koso tak na tha
har jagah tha bass pagal pan
Aa laut chalein apne ghar
Bht lamba hogaya yeh safar
jaha jhagde bhi suljhe se the
jaha ansun bhi uljhe se the
jaha hothon pe muskan bhi thi
jaha ankhein kuch naadan bhi thi
jaha nanhe kadmon ki awaz bhi thi
jaha lori ki chankar bhi thi
jaha ghungru si tumari payal bhi thi
jaha kangan ki awaz bhi thi
jaha hansta hua tera chehra bhi tha
jaha ghurti meri ankhein bhi thi
jaha band woh darwaze bhi the
jaha do **** ek jaan bhi the
Aa laut chalein na apne ghar
waqai bht lamba ** gaya yeh safar....
waqai bht lamba hogaya yeh safar..!!!
..
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 10:05 AM UTC
for Lori, Riley and Kendrick
the questioning words jump off the page,
into two hands transforming,
words shape shifting into
multicolored ink stained fingers,
now, all a chokehold on my brain,
my throaty gasps rasping from
a simplistic convolution -
single questioning deserving an answer
what are you made of?
the obvious answers left in the slow lane,
bone, tissue, rivers and arteries of blue bloods,
just oil and fuel of a containership,
but the cargo carried, that’s the real stuff
you have insight inside that cannot be seen,
self-survival instincts that morph into morals,
our shared air affects you differently,
a sense of defending, caring,
costless and costliest simultaneously,
spaghetti strands strong sinewed intertwining,
into a better human than most
to call you hero is wrongly insufficient,
but the thesaurus lends me no substitute,
weep, I do,
as the spring and summer blushing green
will not be seen by you at all, and by me,
seen now so differently,
when thinking of
soil-born courage instinctual that has no name,
but grows only in nature
what are you made of?
we know now, but knew not well,
that thing that makes you leap first,
was all you, the entirety of the best,
that exists, existed, as reminders to us,
to mine it, wear it,
medal it upon our fabric
*you three,
breathe it back, exhale it from where ever you are,
that trace chemical odor in our atmosphere,
of life-giving sweetness, a rebirthing chlorophyll freedom
that we humans all desperately need,
even just to know it exists,
and inform us*
what we need to be made of
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 5:43 PM UTC
I posted this poem a few days after I joined HP. As is oft the case, poems you are especially proud of, fall to the wayside, under the onslaught of the constant waterfall of new submissions. With the usual exception of Ms. Lori C., one of the two unofficial High Priestesses of HP, in my estimation, this one, was pretty much overlooked. Despite some comical jaunts of late re bras and beds, real inspiration has escaped me ever nice I penned "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns" last week. So, with your hoped for solicitude, I resubmit it, hoping it finds a wider audience and dedicate it to those of you who I number as friends (you know who you are!), despite the fact that our only shared embraces have been techno~electronic, and yet the quality of your kindness is beyond measure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Numerical Quality of Friendship
The quality of friendship is non-quantitative.
Yet, I ask you to number it, and me, this way.
With tape measure, determine that:
The length of my arm's embrace will always be
longer than long enough, and when distance magnifies sorrow's gains,
my shoulders measure wide enough to pillow your wearied head.
The depth of my pocket is finite for by definition,
a pocket is but an open doored, three walled shelter.
My pocket of shelter is forever open, forever deep,
and forever is infinite.
Trust that when bowed and bent,
upon my shoulders climb and together we will be tall enough
to touch the season's new fruit upon the tree of life,
and with one tongue, taste the unimaginable!
Do u think that mercury can measure
the warmth of my tears when love sears my heart,
or the heat of thy skin when it heals and cauterizes
wounds salted by the mistreatment, by the bitters of the weak ones,
who rejoice when they scald others?
Size me up.
What is my volume?
What are the boundaries that
length X depth X height
state must limit my capacity to cherish, to heal,
and even to forgive those who deserve no forgiveness?
If you measure me well and proper,
if I meet the standards that qualify me to be called friend,
then friend me here, friend me now,
friend me for the qualities I posses,
and number us a unity among the few
who are truly blessed
by a quality of friendship that cannot be measured,
for there is no scientific instrument that can quantify
limitless.
March 2012
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
She's strong and wise and sticky fingered
She's squishy and smart and colourful and fun
She's small and quick and shiny
And she's gonna find herself in
Being free
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
[eyes gazing out beneath heavy lids]
i've done that a lot lately, walking
[mind twenty-odd miles away]
into doors that haven't been opened
[feet move faster than my head]
yet, fingers clenched around a ****
[nose hits first; check for blood]
that's only been halfway turned.
[won't happen again, sweartofuckinggod]
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Though miles may separate us dear friend,
And days fly quickly with each irksome chore,
Our bond on such trifles does not depend,
Only serves to enrich our love the more.
Although skies may darken with clouds of grey
Dispelling happiness with blackest gloom,
Glad sunshine dances in sparkling ray
When mem'ries of you flood as sweet perfume.
Melody of robin and woodthrush blend;
Gentle breezes through meadow grasses sigh.
I am reminded of my lovely friend
Causing worries and grief from me to fly.
I am so happy to call you my friend!
Happy Mother's Day Wishes I do send.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
~for the inestimable and yet,
so oft underestimated,
Lori Jones McCaffery ~
*"That was beautiful and I lived it with you." ^
tell-me, tell-me,
he whispers so only ***** can hear:
is there anything more,
a simple poet could ask for,
but an admission of someone revealing that
your words,
inculcated, enwrapped, flowered within,
then carried them to you,
and you to them?
to sit beside me, on my unpillowed weathered throne,
and imagine them imagining through eyes that read, shared
your overflowing joyous insights of the outside domain,
your sadness glorious at the end of a summer
where you rediscovered, un~purposed,
a mindfulness,
from the early morning sun beams stinging you alive
that together ***** the air from lungs exhaling,
and this very breathe
is the synapse of an actual consummation,
transmigrating, transmuting, transforming
a kindred soul
to kin
how glorious!
no, there is nothing greater,
but to ask:
my dear,
can you feel, taste my salted tears, Lori,
as I kiss each of your hands for becoming/making/cresting & creating
a bond of us?
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 10:10 AM UTC
I have the sweetest friend who is so dear
Gladdening my life when days are drear
Sparkling sunshine on gloomy days bleak
N'er after her own pleasure does she seek.
Great poetess and cook she makes work fun,
Sure way to win the heart of any one
Intelligent and kind she doth so prove
Honest token of sympathy and love
Wise about government and sundry things
Whenever talking with her my heart sings!
So Happy Birthday Lori, friend so sweet
May you never suffer gloom or defeat!
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
*Happy Early Birthday for a friend who's sweet
If only I could play the pieces I love
On the piano I'd play them for you
Because you're my sweet friend
My sweetheart who's sweet!
And I'd giggle and say, "Happy Early Birthday, Lori, dear!"
And I would play some more
And we'd visit Fairyland hand in hand
There I'd give you a gift
Wrapped in petals
And it would be a harp
To play
And I'd also give you a pair of satin wings
And a crown made from all the flowers
Then carefully woven together
Your crown of L.O.V.E
For my very special Fairy Queen
Who is always sweet and happy
And whom flies through Fairyland
And is friends with all the Fairies there!*
~Marian~
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Ruthless
Recklass
Cocksure Alpha male nutjob
Addicted to adrenaline
and the smell of burnt gunpowder
Never back down
Always throw one punch too much
Downward spiral walking
Total nutjob you can rely on
Redline all the time
ready to shoot a man in the leg
and leave him as zombie bait
No turning back
when you **** another man
Even if you do it with zombie teeth
not with your bare hands
Trapped
Car wrecks
Collapsed
Snapped necks
Losing his mind over Lori
Double cross his best friend
Now he's a head shot zombie.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC
~for Lori Jones McCaffery who wrote me of:
“Her hands lay gently joined”
“So tenderly put”
<>
So sweet and tenderly put this trilateral phrase, a complement,
So sweet and tenderly put this lovely, geometrical compliment,
thus birthing this missive that was delivered in a mere 9 minutes,
a simple re-tribute to a poem scraped from eyelids, leaked from
my heart
of what
I Witnessed,
of what
I Emoted
as my woman,
rustled besides me in the early morning sheets,
stirring my heart, as she astirring slowly awake.
love this title Lori has gifted me, for so few and far
are the in-betweens of the people, places and things,
that are so tenderly inserted in this banged up humdrum,
football game of daily living, pierced by primary moments,
even secondary seconds, of heart~glows that pierce the noise,
even-in-silence put a suffusion of the chest, kissing of the brain,
colored kernels that dare not go unnoticed, this eloquent, perfect,
thank you is a whispering tremolo note that
wakes me up again, with scents of gratitude, for those
who take care, those who give care, who value tenderness
in soft spoken gestures, brash and bold, smartly wisdomed,
so to honor her, to honor this moment of grateful inspiration,
I insert the exact moment these senses imploded in my chest,
ordering me to give thanks, take care, validate the valuation of words,
so tenderly put
2:10pm Mon Jan 30 2023
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 2:27 PM UTC
If you come to my funeral,
Come by train.
Even if inconvenient.
Take the time
To come slow.
Read my poems,
Read yours,
Mash them up,
So they become better
When joined at the hip.
So be ready,
Be Cub or Girl Scout prepared,
To laugh with crinkly eyes
At private memories,
Recalled stories.
Yes, one can cry and laugh simultaneously,
Perfectly sensible, when on,
Especially when on,
A slow, aglow, train ride,
On the way to a beloved's funeral.
*But this trip don't involve any travels
Its your heart that I am trying to reach
To touch it and fill it with a
Feeling so sweet
Where heartache and pain
Can no longer dwell
So your heart can smile
And only feel well
To find love
For every living thing
And for yourself
And of course for ME*
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
What if Judas was a scapegoat?
A man who had so much
Faith in planning
That he
Would **** his God for it
With just the slightest
Hesitation
He became unable
To live within the new world he created
Bear the consequence of forgiveness
Sometimes consequences
**** you by your own hand
And what if Revelation
Is a metaphor
For the wickedness of human nature
For the private palaces and castles
Golden idols
Hells and heavens in our heads
I ask
But Lori won't have it
She is far too literal
For all my liberal ********
She pulls my wayward soul
Back into the real world
Back in with the churchgoers
And Jim hugs the life
Back in my chest
They have held my hands
Through valleys full of death
And breakups
They have seen my makeup
Smeared across my face
They have seen me in the worst places
Wearing all my worst faces
And they still invite me over for dinner
So I fear no evil
When the Kaisers are with me
For they are witty
They are beautiful from the inside out
They are not afraid to get loud
And they have taught me
Everything I know about
Being a Christian
Even though I lose my way
Even though I lost my faith
In definitions
Wandering doesn't mean I'm lost for good
Just exploring my options
With my feet bathed in still waters
Getting tan
In green pastures
I will have these holy verses
Tattooed in my brain
Forever
All the comfort and humanity
All the divinity I could ask for
All the love I'll ever need
And just because they've
Heard me cuss
And seen me bleed
And probably
Read my ****** poetry
They would never judge me
They'd just slap me on the back
And say
"Quit worrying. Jesus loves you honey."
And in their prayers that night they'd mention me
So God could hear my name
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
Death [Loraine B] All photos and posts. Recent videos
of APAP. Take secure storage. [...]; 1. Issues - Special
Definitions of Buildings in Asia; Asia. With the Lord. ❍
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1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍
○ ○ ○ ○ ○ | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 | | | | |
| | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1
❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1
❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 | | | | | | | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○
○ ○ | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ : ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○
○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 | | | | | | | | |
1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ 1: 1: 1 | | | | | | | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○
Laura 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○
1: 1: 1 | | | | | | | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○
○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ | | | 1: 1:1 ❍ ○ ||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○
||| 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ ○ ○ ○ | | | 1: 1: 1 ❍ ❍ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 ❍ ○ ○
○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 | | | | | | | | | 1: 1: 1 ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ 1: 1: 1 | | | | | |
| | | 1: 1: 1 Adolf ****** step 4.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
Collared for white collar,
To society I'm paying my dues
The Trump appointee Club Fed blues.
The beds are pretty clean and soft,
At Club Fed, they hardly cost
Shootin' shuffleboard, takin' a snooze
Just forgettin' the Club Fed blues
The **** beach aint just ahead
Club Fed just aint the Club Med
At 3-pm, it's tea and cake
Every night supper-- it's Trump steak
The cash register rings, it's all his take.
They're adding on to the Club Fed thing,
A spanking new Congressional wing
Having latte with a Trumper con
He whines,"I'm no Don,
I was just a pawn."
On the ladies side, want to meet
Lori, the College Admission cheat
No black ink pen tattoos
Just plain old Club Fed blues
Bill Barr and Rudy sit at table
Remembering when they were on cable
Just spinning another Ukrainian fable
Missing my 5-pm yardarm *****
A stiff price to pay, the Club Fed blues
When I leave it's to the Caribbean
To a fat numbered account
And I'll finally lose the Club Fed blues.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 6:56 AM UTC