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"marlene" poems
Brigid was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice still runs near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. Little's known of Nellie's early years; Da died before she knew grieving tears, They'd turn her eyes in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her look is distant, Her face is blurred, But recognizable In an instant. She was schooled six years To last a life, Some math, the Irish, To read and write. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God and Grace and sin. There were no vows for Nellie then. At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie, Relieved their worry. War flared, men were few, There was work in Coventry. Ireland's thistles were left to bloom. Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin followed, When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, And brought the mill to life again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself A generator, Providing power To lights and wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Daddy's angel. Is this what turns A father strange? Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no borders For brothers and sisters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland. Daddy was waiting for family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; Jimmy and Marlene left us too, Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came, she was Granny, Bridget, Nellie, but still our Mammy. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I'll sometimes whisper her one name, Mammy.
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
Her Many Names
Brigid was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice still runs near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. Little's known of Nellie's early years; Da died before she knew grieving tears, They'd turn her eyes in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her look is distant, Her face is blurred, But recognizable In an instant. She was schooled six years To last a life, Some math, the Irish, To read and write. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God and Grace and sin. There were no vows for Nellie then. At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie, Relieved their worry. War flared, men were few, There was work in Coventry. Ireland's thistles were left to bloom. Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin followed, When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, And brought the mill to life again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself A generator, Providing power To lights and wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Daddy's angel. Is this what turns A father strange? Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no borders For brothers and sisters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland. Daddy was waiting for family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; Jimmy and Marlene left us too, Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came, she was Granny, Bridget, Nellie, but still our Mammy. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I'll sometimes whisper her one name, Mammy.
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84
He carries her purse on his arm without awkwardness; His comfort shows he must have been caretaker, for some time. Yet awkward she does feel. He carries her purse on his arm as if it belonged there. Just another parcel to be handled with care; yet not a care to what this stranger thought. This old woman hobbles ambling behind; a footfall - thrusts her forward, one more step. Doesn’t he understand she wants to go forward - no more? One step closer to the grave, she can sense. The cane catching and holding her steady; The pain, catching and holding her firm. She follows his lead; always hitting the mark with her blue veined hand wrapped around that staff in her grasp. Her gait, unsteady, wobbly at best As he carries her purse on his arm, She follows his lead one step at a time A crooked cane her only assist for the ambulatory impairment she bears; as he carries her purse on his arm. © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
He Carries Her Purse
Seeds of the Dandelion appear intertwined; Tightly woven tendrils weave and hold in close bond; Stretched fingers offer anchor for each other, though hesitant. When the time is right and the slightest wind blows, seeds of the dandelion                go. Parachutes of white snow. A moment in time stalk stands naked in the wind, having lost everything; Though the taproot runs deep and in reality, millions more will seek a new birth. We may think it a waste, unwanted seeds being placed hither and yon. But what about the Dandelion? Some call this **** a ruderal this “lion’s tooth” with the long taproot feeding bees and butterflies. With detoxifying properties, this plant has seen atrocities of prejudice, bigotry and intolerance; But it just goes on to do it’s job holding on as long as it can til the parachutes of snow                  go and the cycle of life repeats. © Marlene Dunham 2010
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Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 12:07 PM UTC
Dandelion
Bridget was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice still runs near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. What's known of Nellie's early years? Da died before her grieving tears, But burn her eyes in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her visage blurred, Her eyes look distant, Yet recognizable In an instant. She attended school for six short years, The three R's, some Irish, And a Doctorate in tears. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God, Grace and sin. There were no vows for Nellie then. At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie To relieve their worry. War flared up, and men were few, So the work in Coventry Left Ireland's thistles to bloom. Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin were carried. When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, To work the flax mill again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself a generator. And powered the lights and the wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Father's angel. (Is this what turns A father strange?) Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no family borders For brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland in familiar songs. Daddy was waiting for family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; Jimmy and Marlene left us too, Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came, she was Granny, Bridget, Nellie, but still our Mammy. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I'll sometimes whisper her one name, Mammy.
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May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Her Many Names
Bridget was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice still runs near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. What's known of Nellie's early years? Da died before her grieving tears, But burn her eyes in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her visage blurred, Her eyes look distant, Yet recognizable In an instant. She attended school for six short years, The three R's, some Irish, And a Doctorate in tears. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God, Grace and sin. There were no vows for Nellie then. At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie To relieve their worry. War flared up, and men were few, So the work in Coventry Left Ireland's thistles to bloom. Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin were carried. When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, To work the flax mill again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself a generator. And powered the lights and the wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Father's angel. (Is this what turns A father strange?) Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no family borders For brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland in familiar songs. Daddy was waiting for family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; Jimmy and Marlene left us too, Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came, she was Granny, Bridget, Nellie, but still our Mammy. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I'll sometimes whisper her one name, Mammy.
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81
there once was a woman named Arlene who had an older sister named Darlene their youngest sister was named Karlene and her twin was named Charlene the ladies of (lene) had a matriarch named Marlene
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Ladies of Lene
I tripped over the eggshells again. I’m supposed to tiptoe but sometimes they are scattered where I don’t see them or I didn’t think it mattered; or they just appear where a moment before they did not exist. So the path that least resists- is taken. Sometimes I forget. (I have not seen them for so long) A simple conversation turns – There’s neither right nor wrong but the eggshells emerge. Decisions are made on the spot or not. Depends. To walk upon them or confront them head on; Turn my back, (avoid confrontation) or keep on track, (Defend my reputation). What will cause least disruption in the end.? I tripped over the eggshells again. I could just walk on top but then pay the price of broken eggshells in my life. And start all over or stop. © 2012 Marlene Dunham
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
Eggshells
The ball goes down the lane it clinks on pins and down they go, the shoes fit just right and everyone you know is in sight, being taught how to spell the letter R of your name by your great aunt Vi, seeing your funny aunt Marlene, being with your grandma Ross, and going to Sammy's Restaurant for grilled cheese, and the pharmacy for pink Trident gum, all this under one roof. I run to the lane the ball goes down the lane I run to the counter in time shut off the lane and CRASH! no pins fall the sound of the ball ricochets from one end to the other; my mischievous ways fulfilled, and God I loved the Fanta pop which my dad, the manager I was proud of, readily supplied, the place is now gone but it's life still goes on the pins crash even louder, the disinfectant shoe spray still as smelly, the oil of the lane still slippery, and the grilled cheese still as good; and carried on to the current day... Georgina would have been proud! http://www.robross.ca
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Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 11:46 AM UTC
In Childhood
One simple thought goes astray, away - beyond the limits of decorum. A mind goes blind; Descends   to the realm of madness. When reality is the brutality of suffering against all odds and logic; The mind’s on a pivotal perch of distortion; Sinking to the depths of despair. How to escape? Where to travel - unravel? Thoughts create, minds negate. Oh, to make things clear; to again see flee - the insanity of actuality. What is real? how to feel? shall I kneel and pray for forgiveness? for my mind   to find its home? But to whom do I say my incantations? Why do my thoughts go beyond? Who’s to say what is wrong? What is right I am strong! Not insane. © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Insanity
Volcanic eruption corruption unemployment recession, depression Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan Earth quakes rumbles Wall Street crumbles Haitian children wail tidal waves prevail Global warming fiction or warning? Taxes, health care how to handle the next scandal Hawaiian birth takes precedence over incidents. Coincidence? Arizona immigration discrimination Oil spill of gigantic proportions contortions in the Gulf causing strife, ending life Bomb in Times Square where? not here! just sit and sip your beer watch the world go by with a wink and a sigh! Sometimes we are powerless nothing we can do our head in the sand, don't understand not care, or dare to question? What is our place in this space our destiny and fate to help our world continue on so our children can survive? The world is spinning out of control Iraq, Iran, Afganistan Quakes, Rumbles, Crumbles Global Conservation, Preservation Distortions, Contortions Bombs and Beer Dare to Care Frenzied © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
Frenzied
Love the name. Got upset When the man called out, Seen. Stupid man. It's Sean, and not Shawn. A year older than Gerald. Two younger than Kevin. Two older than me. That's Sean. Daddy wrote home about us. Maura was working at the hospital. Sheila was finishing highschool. Kevin won the Science Fair. Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars, All over Canada and the U.S. I found the letter, penned in '62, A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same. I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling; With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout. The last page was missing, Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene. Gerald with his Beetles haircut. Me, mimicking ( probably mocking), Some unknown priest, to my father's delight; Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked Away from home. Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet. The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada. I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's. There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia. He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here, And our proximity to the North Pole. Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists; The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration. Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted. Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues, And a large S, his Senior Letter. He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and,  smelled as good as he looked, The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool. Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others. A heart of tears. A spirit of adventure. I love Sean, I recall. He is always welcome here. Drops by sometimes. It's always a great surprise.
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
Sean and the Letter
Love the name. Got upset When the man called out, Seen. Stupid man. It's Sean, and not Shawn. A year older than Gerald. Two younger than Kevin. Two older than me. That's Sean. Daddy wrote home about us. Maura was working at the hospital. Sheila was finishing highschool. Kevin won the Science Fair. Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars, All over Canada and the U.S. I found the letter, penned in '62, A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same. I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling; With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout. The last page was missing, Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene. Gerald with his Beetles haircut. Me, mimicking ( probably mocking), Some unknown priest, to my father's delight; Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked Away from home. Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet. The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada. I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's. There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia. He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here, And our proximity to the North Pole. Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists; The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration. Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted. Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues, And a large S, his Senior Letter. He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and,  smelled as good as he looked, The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool. Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others. A heart of tears. A spirit of adventure. I love Sean, I recall. He is always welcome here. Drops by sometimes. It's always a great surprise.
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47
The year following Jimmy's death (my first encounter, and my little brother), I smothered myself In every read on Parapsychology, Astral beings, OBE's, NDE's, And plasma projections, Reincarnation and all Aberations. I awarded myself An Honorary Doctorate In ******** (Ph. D.B.S.). Then I met ****** Mary, As the police called her. Her keen abilities Recovered bodies And the snatchers. She had a dead-on reputation. She spoke German and gesticulated Wildly while she oracled. Her husband translated simultaneously. Her sun-room shone, There were plants on Every table. No candles. Perhaps I was mesmerized. She had one message for me From the other side:      Tell Francie to leave me alone. Marlene (my darling little sister, And my next encounter), Had a dream the very same Day I saw my seer. She dreamt Jimmy Was alone, Crying at home, And through his tears She clearly hears:      Tell Francie to leave me alone. ****** Mary was free, That's right... no fee. She said her gift Was for sharing, And she shared Her gift with me.
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
****** Mary
The ugly poetess Over the housetops, Above the dry blades of the sugar cane husks I have known fear, I have known hunger I felt the pain of a nail wound deep in my foot I belted out the blues like Nina Simone An era of reform: the moments of truth, On top of the hill, lies a village in Barbados Acid rain, rooftop leaks on to my bed It was a rough year: only food sources were rice and breadfruits We lived through it all: It was my destiny: To love and to hate them: those old fruit loops Through the eyes of a uprising poet The curving of his pen, Somehow, he made amends, he purge the smoky air, the disgusting sight of the pig pens out of his mind lack of personal dental hygiene, the elders lost their teeth Grinding down on sugarcane, while they awaits the big meal of the day Supper! With innocent eyes and achy feet I read so many books for inner peace My stomach was empty, but my mind was at ease To dream big while aiming high Marlene, Delores, and Linda Known as the vanishing three Migrated to North America Where a Barefooted child like me wasn’t supposed to be Eventually, I know I would have followed I have woven my feathers, while looking upwards, In my little corner under the old rusty galvanizes . At the old country shop the vanishing three mothers told me that I wasn’t pretty enough to leave the island Words of hatred, mere words of discomfort I felt my wings tighten against my rib cage, My tongue, glued against my jaws From that day forward the poet smile against stupidity And spitefulness, she too had come to Eat her words, the old shopkeeper The poetess enter another line from that era Uncaring beauty without brains Where are they now? I walked with confident down that street The misty air moist my skin The poetess return to the Island of Barbados Without the sugar in her blood.. .
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
An Era of Reform: The Moment of Truth
The ugly poetess Over the housetops, Above the dry blades of the sugar cane husks I have known fear, I have known hunger I felt the pain of a nail wound deep in my foot I belted out the blues like Nina Simone An era of reform: the moments of truth, On top of the hill, lies a village in Barbados Acid rain, rooftop leaks on to my bed It was a rough year: only food sources were rice and breadfruits We lived through it all: It was my destiny: To love and to hate them: those old fruit loops Through the eyes of a uprising poet The curving of his pen, Somehow, he made amends, he purge the smoky air, the disgusting sight of the pig pens out of his mind lack of personal dental hygiene, the elders lost their teeth Grinding down on sugarcane, while they awaits the big meal of the day Supper! With innocent eyes and achy feet I read so many books for inner peace My stomach was empty, but my mind was at ease To dream big while aiming high Marlene, Delores, and Linda Known as the vanishing three Migrated to North America Where a Barefooted child like me wasn’t supposed to be Eventually, I know I would have followed I have woven my feathers, while looking upwards, In my little corner under the old rusty galvanizes . At the old country shop the vanishing three mothers told me that I wasn’t pretty enough to leave the island Words of hatred, mere words of discomfort I felt my wings tighten against my rib cage, My tongue, glued against my jaws From that day forward the poet smile against stupidity And spitefulness, she too had come to Eat her words, the old shopkeeper The poetess enter another line from that era Uncaring beauty without brains Where are they now? I walked with confident down that street The misty air moist my skin The poetess return to the Island of Barbados Without the sugar in her blood.. .
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57
I won't accept the end Gently or gracefuly, But begrudgingly, In private anguish: That is truth; Unadorned, And sure. I've not dealt with the vanish Of comrades in battle; Or happened upon A loved one At the end of the rope. I've felt the tug, The smell of CO, The hardness beneath The Bluewater Bridge; The bottle, blade and pill On the frozen faces of friends, On family: Michael, Marlene, Jimmy, Eucheria. The family innocents Whisked off In the maelstrom of bounding youth. *But you must know your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some time..* Claudius speaks the cold hard truth, But Claudius was childless; Such guileless advice. And Shakespeare's kids were playing In the yard As he penned his tragedy. But, Bury a child And have an eternal membership In the ****** for Life Club.*
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Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
The ****** For Life Club
4:11 am - The nighthawks are starting to resemble pigeons. Train station is deserted. An employee checks the bins as the tunnel fills  with the ringing of a distant bell, heralding the arrival of the morning train. 42  minutes till my train. I can smell the acrid fumes of the Ferny Grove train. The behemoth pulls away- empty. At least I'm not existential anymore. There is an installation of a coffin made from old bits of railroad, "Not everyone makes it across the tracks" This reminder of mortality is strangely fitting in a place of transit. The true face of memento mori is  shown. Remember that you too will die, and everything will come to pass. It's times like this that make me wish 'The Sound of Silence" was never written. For its perfection in this moment comes as a burst of pure divine bliss. The kind you wish would never fade away. But inevitably does. And all we are left with is a memory of that bliss, everytime we hear the song (after the first time). As if we are recalling the curves of an old lover from the shadow of yesterdays gone. Dancing beneath our fingertips, always out of reach. Memory is never as divine as the moment that burnt it in. ---- 4:29 am - It was ephemeral. The trainyard announcer has a cultured voice. ---- 4:41 am - I fear the muse has left me, beauty fled. DEAR GOD - PLEASE LET THERE BE A CAB AT THE STATION FOR ME. Selection 11 gave me the water i desired. 11 minutes till the train. D.O.B. 11/2 Aquarius,  11th  sign of the Zodiac. Will I see the dawn rise from the train? There is no light at the end of the tunnel from where I sit. Inexplicably: I recall the cool river air that bathed us as we lay naked in your apartment, the smell of cigarettes on our skin, the evening peppered with scurrying, fighting possums that danced upon your balcony. I recall being inside you. (Then I imagined you being eaten out by a woman her lips inside yours, her curled tongue inside your hot, bald golden **** And I came. Warm and glorious my children of pleasure caught in a latex coffin. Your heaves of pleasure pushing against my chest with the rhythm of waves. ---- 4:46 am - On the train. Fluorescent lighting is the devil. Everything is garish yellow. We  pull up to the station near where you lived. Your blue  rose lives in a Chinese vase and no longer smells of Marlene Dietrich.
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May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Brisbane Street Sketch 4
4:11 am - The nighthawks are starting to resemble pigeons. Train station is deserted. An employee checks the bins as the tunnel fills  with the ringing of a distant bell, heralding the arrival of the morning train. 42  minutes till my train. I can smell the acrid fumes of the Ferny Grove train. The behemoth pulls away- empty. At least I'm not existential anymore. There is an installation of a coffin made from old bits of railroad, "Not everyone makes it across the tracks" This reminder of mortality is strangely fitting in a place of transit. The true face of memento mori is  shown. Remember that you too will die, and everything will come to pass. It's times like this that make me wish 'The Sound of Silence" was never written. For its perfection in this moment comes as a burst of pure divine bliss. The kind you wish would never fade away. But inevitably does. And all we are left with is a memory of that bliss, everytime we hear the song (after the first time). As if we are recalling the curves of an old lover from the shadow of yesterdays gone. Dancing beneath our fingertips, always out of reach. Memory is never as divine as the moment that burnt it in. ---- 4:29 am - It was ephemeral. The trainyard announcer has a cultured voice. ---- 4:41 am - I fear the muse has left me, beauty fled. DEAR GOD - PLEASE LET THERE BE A CAB AT THE STATION FOR ME. Selection 11 gave me the water i desired. 11 minutes till the train. D.O.B. 11/2 Aquarius,  11th  sign of the Zodiac. Will I see the dawn rise from the train? There is no light at the end of the tunnel from where I sit. Inexplicably: I recall the cool river air that bathed us as we lay naked in your apartment, the smell of cigarettes on our skin, the evening peppered with scurrying, fighting possums that danced upon your balcony. I recall being inside you. (Then I imagined you being eaten out by a woman her lips inside yours, her curled tongue inside your hot, bald golden **** And I came. Warm and glorious my children of pleasure caught in a latex coffin. Your heaves of pleasure pushing against my chest with the rhythm of waves. ---- 4:46 am - On the train. Fluorescent lighting is the devil. Everything is garish yellow. We  pull up to the station near where you lived. Your blue  rose lives in a Chinese vase and no longer smells of Marlene Dietrich.
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58
Big boiled blood, Boiled big blood Blood boiled big Black soot, thousand flies They're headed for your eye grinder teeth sagging eyes Busted ear drums only seen here on top of the pile of brimstone over there. The blood boiled over the pan, too high. Carlos! I got Marlene. II Moldy muddy maze muddy moldy maze maze moldy muddy Tomato stained imperative notes nails bitten, tied the tongue Grease stains, hand and feet. Yellow Teeth and nacho cheese The teeth's termites Don't let the shoes come off. Rotten eggs, spoiled cheese The bread is rock, crusty; Mold muddy Maze
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Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 11:16 AM UTC
The Dirt Trail
Alone at the bar, in town; down the road to the right. I was afraid At first But then, at the sight of the warm firelight In the hearth thru the window pane It seemed safe And beckoned me to come in, though alone Laughter filtered Through the night air The camaraderie, good cheer (perhaps it was the beer?) spilling over into the hearts of all that were here, this night Heady days of my youth in the old neighborhood I would never give pause Or turn and go home because I was alone Those folks were family and - Everyone knew my name. No difference tonight Walk in and sit down. remember your worth! don’t feel old! be bold! Look, there’s a seat by the fire. Instantly - I belonged! not a solitary soul or mere spectator. I was the majority, part of the sorority, of revelers and folk, though nobody knew my name all the same I wondered why: had I hesitated at the door. Did I think I was too old had I lost my nerve? To enter the frey Because they Were strangers? and so was I? Alone,nomore at the bar, in town; down the road to the right. The next stranger I see enter through the glass doors with a hesitant stare I will smile, I think and offer a drink and try to share that feeling of belonging! (c) Marlene Dunham 2010
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Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
Respite In The Night
Childhood should be carefree. The hardest thoughts should be - which tree to hide behind So they won’t find me! Colors of chalk on the sidewalk.   What to draw today? Which frilly dress from the old wooden trunk will I pick? Which bobble of beads from mom’s jewelry bin Shall I loop around my neck and spin like the ballerina atop a music box. Running free on the water’s edge, chasing sand dollars down the beach as far as the eye could see and within reach. These are what memories of childhood should be. The jingle jangle of the ice cream truck on a sunny summer day. We immediately stop our play and run; First to mom for money, then to the street to beat the neighbor kids and be first in line for a treat. Childhood should be unfettered of  burdens and worry. The qualms and cares of the world in a hurry to destroy itself should burden the shoulders of others.   Not brothers or sisters. Not the children. Not the children. I was their protector, defender, guardian and guide; They trusted me, to be their god who would heal and deal with pain and strife of life; How could I know That I was not protecting them. Enough? © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:18 PM UTC
Childhood Should.......
Memories linger, like a gentle breeze; days of youth, those feelings of desire, like heat from a burning kiln when fired; The pottery glaze blisters as it frees the finished sculptured work of art with ease. Yet, the gentlest of touch is still required, so this masterpiece can be retired. If you, oh just once more, could hear my pleas! I’d beg for one more chance at love this time Though our bodies wracked and broken, simply old I long to feel the touch that I remember Intoxicated by your breath near mine; One day before life ends and I lose hold To have you near, once more, I would surrender.   © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
One More Chance
"Mommy, daddy said he is making me a stick horse, just like the Indians use to ride! "What! Oh that man... "What did I tell you? You never tell, not ever! "What's wrong with being an Indian, mommy? "They think you are ***** they call you, savage! "My kind, white people, won't let their kids play with you. " They hate Indians, they call them stupid and ***** " Do you mommy? I look into her eyes and see nothing. She has left me again and gone to her safe place. I hear her whisper very low, "just go play and don't ever tell." Little girl behind the rocker, so sad, so ashamed, so scared. Don't tell my only friend? She will hate me? Does my white grandpa know? Will he stop loving me? Scared little girl, so sad, so many tears, softly saying, "I'm ***** " What are you doing? You just took a bath before bed! " I'm getting cleaner, so they won't call me ***** " They won't because you will never tell! " Now get out of there and go to school. "Marlene, what will you not do at school? " I won't tell, never tell... So confused, so alone, so ashamed. Walking with head down now, slowly disappearing. Voice is almost gone, silent tears falling on her old used coat. Look at all the flowers on daddy's grave. Everyone liked him and has come to say goodbye. "Daddy, don't leave me! I'll be just one little Indian, all alone. "Don't put him down there, it's dark and it will get him! Little girl behind the old rocker, so very sad, so very quiet. All her joy and wonderment taken from her by hate. She listens to her mother and minds what she says, "Don't tell, don't ever tell! But every morning, while everyone still sleeps, You can see a little girl running to the old garage, Then, hair flying in the wind, as she rides her stick Indian pony!! Silently saying, " I love you, my Indian daddy". And Someday, I will tell the world!
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 9:57 AM UTC
Don't tell, don't ever tell!!
"Mommy, daddy said he is making me a stick horse, just like the Indians use to ride! "What! Oh that man... "What did I tell you? You never tell, not ever! "What's wrong with being an Indian, mommy? "They think you are ***** they call you, savage! "My kind, white people, won't let their kids play with you. " They hate Indians, they call them stupid and ***** " Do you mommy? I look into her eyes and see nothing. She has left me again and gone to her safe place. I hear her whisper very low, "just go play and don't ever tell." Little girl behind the rocker, so sad, so ashamed, so scared. Don't tell my only friend? She will hate me? Does my white grandpa know? Will he stop loving me? Scared little girl, so sad, so many tears, softly saying, "I'm ***** " What are you doing? You just took a bath before bed! " I'm getting cleaner, so they won't call me ***** " They won't because you will never tell! " Now get out of there and go to school. "Marlene, what will you not do at school? " I won't tell, never tell... So confused, so alone, so ashamed. Walking with head down now, slowly disappearing. Voice is almost gone, silent tears falling on her old used coat. Look at all the flowers on daddy's grave. Everyone liked him and has come to say goodbye. "Daddy, don't leave me! I'll be just one little Indian, all alone. "Don't put him down there, it's dark and it will get him! Little girl behind the old rocker, so very sad, so very quiet. All her joy and wonderment taken from her by hate. She listens to her mother and minds what she says, "Don't tell, don't ever tell! But every morning, while everyone still sleeps, You can see a little girl running to the old garage, Then, hair flying in the wind, as she rides her stick Indian pony!! Silently saying, " I love you, my Indian daddy". And Someday, I will tell the world!
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37
Take me first. I stood witness at the bed As Mammy withered To a stick, so small, She couldn't cast a shadow. Take me first. I was one to agree To stop the whirring machine, And stood there As Jimmy flat-lined. Take me first. Marlene asked me If she was dying. Thirty-nine is too young To give an answer. Take me first. Daddy left in a hurry; No good-byes in life Or in death. If I'm not taken first Before my girls, I will surely be second.
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
I Will Surely Be Second
Every day has a pain attached to it. Monday=Liza Tuesday=Marlene Wednesday=Jackie Thursday=Jessica Friday=Forget them all Saturday=It's all over now, drink some more. Sunday= It didn't work All the names become days. All the days become names.
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Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Every day had a pain attached to it
Brigid was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice runs still near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. What's known of Nellie's early years? Da died before she knew grieving tears, But her eyes will burn in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her visage blurred, Her eyes look distant, Yet recognizable In an instant. She attended school for six short years, The three R's, some Irish, With a Doctorate in tears. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God, Grace and sin. (There were no vows for Nellie then.) At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie To relieve their worry. War flared up, and men were few, A Coventry move would surely do. (and thistles bloomed as they grew.) Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin were carried. When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, To work the flax mill again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself a generator. And powered the lights and the wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Father's angel. (Is this what turns A father strange?) Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no family borders For brothers and sisters, sons or daughters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland in familiar songs. Daddy waited for our family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; But Jimmy and Marlene left us too. Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came for Little Granny, Brigid, Nellie, her names are many. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I may invoke her one true name:                             "Mammy."
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May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
Her Many Names
Brigid was born on a flax mill farm, Near the Cavan border, in Monaghan, At Lough Egish on the Carrick Road, The last child of the Sheridans. The sluice runs still near the water wheel, With thistles thriving on rusted steel. What's known of Nellie's early years? Da died before she knew grieving tears, But her eyes will burn in later years. She's eleven posing with her class, This photo shows an Irish lass. Her visage blurred, Her eyes look distant, Yet recognizable In an instant. She attended school for six short years, The three R's, some Irish, With a Doctorate in tears. Her Mammy grew ill, She lost a leg, And bit by bit, By age sixteen, Nellie buried her first dead. Too young to be alone, Sisters and brother had left the home. The cloistered convent took her in, She taught urchins and orphans About God, Grace and sin. (There were no vows for Nellie then.) At nineteen she met a Creamery man, Jim Lynch of the Cavan clan; He delivered dairy from his lorry, Married Nellie To relieve their worry. War flared up, and men were few, A Coventry move would surely do. (and thistles bloomed as they grew.) Nellie soon was Michael's Mammy, Then Maura, Sheila and Kevin were carried. When war floundered to its end, They shipped back to Monaghan, To work the flax mill again. The thistles and weeds That surrounded the mill, Were scythed and scattered By Daddy's zeal. He built himself a generator. And powered the lights and the wheel. Sean was born, Gerald soon followed; Then Michael died. A nine year old, His Father's angel. (Is this what turns A father strange?) Francie arrived, Then Eucheria, But ten months later Bold death took her. Grief knows no family borders For brothers and sisters, sons or daughters. We left for Canada. Mammy brought six kids along, Leaving her dead behind, Buried with Ireland in familiar songs. Daddy waited for our family, Six months before Mammy got free From death's inhumanity. Her tears and griefs weren't yet over, She birthed another son and daughter; But Jimmy and Marlene left us too. Death is sure, Death is cruel. Grandchildren came for Little Granny, Brigid, Nellie, her names are many. She lived this life eduring pain That mothers bear, Mothers sustain. And yet, in times of personal strain, I may invoke her one true name:                             "Mammy."
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81
The mysterious answers eluded me. Friends left on bikes, Went to Expo, Had backyard tents. I stood, palms pressed, waiting. Then Marlene and Jimmy died And I knelt before the maze master, Looking for an exit. All, I am told, are answered, But the lines of communication Seem crossed. Does he get the ways of man As well as we get the ways of him? I supposed your prayers were realized When you left, Yet the same rain and sun drenched us. I should expect a summative explanation When I get My commuted response.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
The Enigma of Prayer
the memory of a movie the first glance at Mona Lisa the first echo of  Marlene Dietrich singing, where one time thrills were really in the back seat of a sixty four Buick. my sedition almost fictional taunted, attracted me ultimately to another realm. a sphere of passion to be more than reality. A vision where I could dream up what was needed in an instant. a menage a trois of sight smell feel: blinds pulled: a slave to imaginating. conveniently fitting my insanity, my ****** passion energy alone with flickering Universal glamour girls. I then fell for Marilyn. Oh god it was on.
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
And it was on!
I cried when Jimmy died I fell in love with Ky I wanted to be Marlene, or Lynn maybe I fell in the snowbank with Charlie I disappear like the Cheshire Cat
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Me, and People Who Don't Exist