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Dorothy A Jan 2015
Shane Page made a quick call to his daughter, LeAnn, as he waited in the hospital lounge. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? You sound kind of upset.”

“LeAnn, Grandpa had a heart attack…”

LeAnn’s dark brown eyes grew large. “Is Grandpa dead?”, she asked. She was fourteen years old, and a wise, sensitive girl who cared a lot about her grandpa.

“No, not that, hon. The doctor says he will recover, but he had some blockages and he needs some fixing up.  He’s resting right now, pretty comfortably. I just wanted you to know where I was and that I’m okay—so don’t you worry. Look out after your brother…” He sighed in exhaustion and ran his fingers through the top of his dark hair. “It’s going to be a while before I’m home.”

“Well, wait a minute!” she protested.  “Why can’t Trevor and I go with you? Maybe Mom can drive us up there.”

Shane started to raise his voice, “Leave your mom out of this!” Then he realized his tone was a bit harsh and said more calmly, “You two got school tomorrow and there’s no need for you to be here now. Anyway, I don’t want to involve Mom.”

Shane and his wife, Megan, have been separated for four months now. It would be more than likely that they would be getting divorced. LeAnn, and her brother, Trevor—who was eleven-years-old—were staying with their father. It worked out that they remain in their home.  

“Dad”, LeAnn insisted. “She’s still our mom…”

“Just look out for Trevor. Ok?”

Shane got off the phone, and just sat there staring at the television but having no real desire to even pay any attention. That was the farthest thing from his mind. Around him were a few other tired people, looking about as frustrated, tired or worried as he was.

It has been a trying year for him. Still struggling with his marriage issues and now he was dealing with his father’s health problems. At age thirty-six, Shane was a young father when he married Megan. He felt it was the right thing to do considering she was pregnant at the time. The odds were against them remaining married, but they made if farther than anyone would have expected.  He certainly remained married longer than his parents—who were married for seven years—but he blamed his parent’s divorce on his womanizing, cheating father, a man he did not want to follow in his footsteps.

Dr. Bakkal had spoken to Shane, earlier. “Your father’s fortunate he made it in when he did. He was in requirement of two stents, and he was resistant to having them put in. I told him if he wants to continue to live, he’d be wise to get them. Otherwise, he’ll be in the same boat, but now we can prolong his life.”

“So he’s refusing?” Shane asked. That was his father, alright, stubbornly pigheaded to the bitter end.

“Thankfully, he signed for consent and he’s allowing you to be included in conversation over his medical issues. But really it is a good idea for him to have a power of attorney. You are his only son? ”

“Right.—I’m it”, Shane responded. “Well, that’s my dad for you. He thinks he’s got it all under control. Anyway, I’d be okay with being power of attorney, but who knows if he’d even have me. I don’t need to tell you he’s a stubborn man. He’s a proud man—too proud.”

“That he is”, Dr Bakkal agreed. “He doesn’t have a wife who can step up to the plate?”

Shane laughed a little. “He’s had four wives. My mom was the first. The lady he has been seeing now I’m sure saved his life. She was the one who demanded he go to the hospital and she drove him here. But she called me up and says she’s done with him.” The strain was obvious, as it was written all over Shane’s face. “He’s a headache, Doctor. He drinks too much. He smokes. He has yet to meet a vegetable…”

The doctor stated, “But things don’t sink in until we are forced to face them, sometimes. And he thinks because he looks alright on the outside, he’s okay on the inside—a fairly handsome man—a ladies man—who is, one used to being his own boss.”  

Shane agreed, but his face was grimaced. “That he is, Doctor. That he is. Yeah, but when the ladies get wind that he ends up treating them pretty shabbily—well, I’m not going to fill in the details. Four wives should tell you the answer.”

Dr. Bakkal put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Ah, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I’ve no doubt you have some sense.”

Shane nodded.

Nodding his head—drifting in and out of sleep—Shane continued to wait in the lounge. Soon, Shane’s dad, Carl, had been able to get into his own room. Shane was able to go in and see him. Like Carl had told one of the nurses, he was “all wires, tubes and coils” and he had “enough numbers lighting up on fancy gadgets to keep the place busy” as his vitals were constantly monitored. Soundly sleeping, he seemed much smaller in his hospital bed with his face half shielded by an oxygen mask. What a strange sight it was. He hadn’t seen his dad in the hospital since his gall bladder surgery several years ago.  It was a bit unsettling for Shane to see him this way.

He didn’t want to wake his dad, so Shane just grabbed up a chair and sat by the foot of the bed. Before long, he had fallen asleep, too. When his phone range, he was entirely confused as to the time, even to what day it was.

“Hey, Dad, how’s grandpa doing?”

Looking at his watch and then peering out into the darkness out the window, he answered, “What’s that I hear…in the background? LeAnn, is that your mother there?”

“Yeah, Dad, I told her. She felt like we needed her and she’s making dinner for us.” Megan could be heard in the background talking with Trevor.

Shane frowned. “Oh, great! Didn’t I tell you not to involve Mom? You are perfectly capable of cooking, LeAnn. You do a good job, and—“

LeAnn abruptly handed her mother the phone. “Shane”, Megan said. “You can shut me out from helping you, but you can’t shut me out from helping my kids. Don’t act like you couldn’t use a hand.”

“I’ll be home soon”, he insisted. “It’s really not necessary. I’m not trying to be a **** about it…”

“You stay there as long as you need to. I can call Uncle Sal and tell him you might not be into work tomorrow.”

Shane worked as a manager and mechanic in his maternal uncle’s car repair shop. “Megan, I am quite capable of doing this kind of stuff, you know!” He hesitated and gave in to what he saw as interference.  Perhaps, guilt compelled her to come over. After all, she was the one who walked away. She was the one who was unfaithful, the one who strayed.  He added, “You want to look after the kids—then fine. I’ll worry about me”.  

“Well, you got it! I won’t interfere too much in your life, Shane. You’re just a chip off the old block,” she remarked, referring to his stubborn father. “The kids and I are doing just fine. I got it covered! Okay?”

“Hi, Dad! Love you!” Trevor boomed out from the background.

Megan laughed. “You caught that, didn’t you? I think the whole neighborhood did”.

There was no use trying to resist Megan’s help. “Tell the kids that their grandpa is comfortable, sleeping like a log. They can see him soon enough.” He stopped as a nurse came into the room to check in on his father. They briefly smiled at each other.

“Give them each a kiss and a hug for me”, he said, lastly, almost choking up. He wished it was like it was before—the four of them under one roof. But that was not going to happen.    

Shane met Megan at a party. She was a college student learning to be a teacher. He was working for his uncle in his auto repair shop. The plans were set for Shane to take over that shop one day. Uncle Sal had three daughters, none of them the least bit interested in taking over the business. When he met Megan, he was doing well for himself.

It was love at first sight for him. He was attracted to her fun loving personality, as well as her beauty. Her blue-green eyes would light up the room. At first, Megan wasn’t feeling the same way. Shane did slowly grow on her, this “grease monkey” with his serious nature and beyond his years. They would talk about their future together, for they really did enjoy each other’s company. But then reality hit them in the face when Megan became pregnant with LeAnn, and they married very soon. He wanted to marry her anyway, but now it was a matter of integrity. Shane wanted his child to have parents who were married and for his kid to know him better than he knew his dad.  

Megan gave up on her schooling, not becoming the teacher that she dreamed of. Shane often wondered if she resented him for this—like it was entirely his fault—though Megan never expressed that to him. A few years later and Trevor came. Plans to go back to school were put on hold. That light in those eyes seemed to grow dim, but he didn’t really notice that she was unhappy. He seemed to lose focus.

Such thoughts were punishing at this time, and he tried to bury them deep down. It was amazing that he was able to have a sound sleep in the hospital, resting in the chair in his father’s room. Next time he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. He looked up, disoriented a bit, as he noticed his dad looking at him, a small smile on his face and no more oxygen masks.

“Hell, Son”, Carl said in a gruff voice.. “You look worse than I do”. Carl’s thick head of grey hair was disheveled, and his usually, neatly trimmed mustache was invaded by surrounding ****** stubble.  

Shane got up and stretched and said back, “Thanks, Dad. Good morning to you, too.”   He looked at his watch and added, “Glad you’re alive. You scared the hell out me. You got your grandkids worried.”

“Well…get me out of this ****** hospital and I’ll show you I can get around just fine”.

“Whoa! Whoa! Superman—you are not! Just lay back, relax a while, and do what the doctors tell you.”

“Like what?” Carl asked with a furrowed brow.

Shane was careful not to lose his temper. “Well, for one, you can quit smoking. Two, you can give up the *****. Three—take your cholesterol medicine…”

“Ok….ok….you sound like your mother now”.

Shane knew it would go in one ear and out the other. He stood by the window looking down in the parking lot. “Yeah, Dad, Maybe I do sound like Mom, but someone’s got to tell it to you straight. Put some sense into you. Stop just for once and think of someone else besides you. If no one else, think of LeAnn and Trevor.” He paused and added, “Think about me for once.”

Carl laughed and mocked him, “Poor, little Shane’s got it so bad. I’m not against you, Son, okay? You’re a big boy, so man up! I’m sixty-nine years old! My old man was gone by fifty.” He started having one of his coughing spells, his cough like an old smoker’s cough.

Shane shot him a sharp look. “I guess I’m a fool to expect any better. Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—as mom always says. Obviously, just wasting my time here!” He went to grab his jacket to leave.

Carl boomed, cheerfully, “Well speak of the devil!”

“What?” Shane asked, unaware of what was going on. He turned around and there was his mother standing in the doorway. He smirked and said, “Mom, I’m surprised to see you! LeAnn, right? ”

Rosina smiled and nodded as she entered the room. With salt and pepper hair, and an olive complexion, she commanded the room with her presence. Carl always referred to her as “Queen Bee”, for she had that quality—regal like a Roman statue when he first laid eyes on her—though she was down-to-earth in reality.

Carl groaned at the thought of her coming. “Is it safe for a person to be in here?” she asked, in her grand entrance.   She whipped Carl a stern glance. I’m not here for you!” Then she gave a look of concern her son, and told him, “I’m here because I’m supporting you, my dear. And yes, LeAnn called me.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and a quick hug, and he returned the loving gesture.


“Mom, you didn’t need to drive over an hour to come up here. But since you are—have a seat.”

“You sure as hell didn’t, Rosie”, Carl echoed.

“Oh be quiet!” she ordered Carl, putting him in his place. She dismissed the offer of the seat, and told her ex- husband. “I’m worried about my only son, but I also am interested in how you’re doing…if my grandchildren will still have a grandfather. Take better care of yourself and maybe they will.”

Shane comments were sardonic. “Maybe miracles still happen…like quitting smoking, boozing, and maybe doing some walking and healthier eating…but since when has Dad ever listened to you or me?”

Carl attempted to sit up and get out of bed, but the effort was ridiculous. He groaned in pain. “Give a poor guy some rest, already! You two are just a couple of nags!”

Rosina sneered. “Old nag—old hag—*******—say what you want about me, but you know I’m right! Anyway, you are outnumbered. Or am I, Shane, and the nurses and doctors all talking out their rear ends?”

Carl made a face. If only he could just get out of here.

“Honey”, she said to Shane. I’ll be downstairs in the cafeteria. I’d like some coffee. You can join me down there if you’d like and we can talk.”

“In a little while, Mom, thanks”, he replied.

Rosina walked up closer to Carl and put her hand lovingly upon his chest. “I really do want you to get well, old man. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

“I know you do”, Carl admitted. “That is one of your faults. You don’t stay ****** forever.”

Carl was more scared than he would let on. He hated hospitals. He would do anything to just be back home in his recliner, watching a football game and having a few beers. What he wouldn’t do for just one puff on a smoke, too. Anxious, he tried to hide his fear, but it was just a smoke screen. He didn’t want anyone to know how he truly felt, nor did he want anyone to feel sorry for him.

There was silence for several minutes. Shane had said all that he should say. After all, he knew his dad probably wouldn’t listen. “Hey, Dad”, he finally said. “LeAnn’s going to her school dance. There’s a boy that likes her, but I’m really not ready for that.”

Carl grinned. “She’s a pretty girl, alright. Takes after her grandma when she was something else—way back, you know. The girl looks more like your ma than you do, though always felt you took after her look instead of me”. Carl’s background was English, Scottish and Welsh, and Rosina was full Italian. To Carl’s side of the family, he looked like his dad. To his mother’s side, he resembled her. Trevor took very much after Megan, with light brown hair and those blue-green eyes.

“Yeah, she is growing into quite a beautiful young lady”, Shane agreed “I got to still go dress shopping with her…and, oh, let the fun begin!  Can’t think of anything more enjoyable than a day of running her all around the malls.”

“Well, let Megan take her, for God’s sake! Or let your mother do it.”

“Dad”, “It’s fine. It may not be my thing, but all the stuff I do with Trevor—going to his baseball games, soccer, to karate. Well LeAnn was more into that stuff but she’s getting more into girly things.”

Soon, a young woman came in with Carl’s lunch, and placed the tray in front of him on his table. “Cute, huh?” Carl remarked about her after she left. Shane did not say a word.

“You need to get back out there. Get out and meet a nice girl”, Carl said, picking over his food. Jell-O, apple sauce, broth, a roll and juice—he wanted a hamburger. But how could he get a good one here? There were too many “spies” as he called them watching over him.

At the moment, Shane seemed miles away from his dad. Whatever he was saying made no impact. He made it a point not to speak of his problems with Megan to his father, and he liked it that way.  By Shane’s expression, he felt his son was holding back on something. But the truth was, so was he hiding something.

“I got myself into this mess, I know”, Carl declared about his heart attack. “I came close to saying, ‘Sayonara—that’s all, folks!’” His remarks were typical—just blow everything off. He joked as if he wasn’t fazed by it all.

Shane had now closed his eyes, and kicked back a little, “Uh huh”, he agreed, though he was simply responding without thinking about what Carl really said.

Carl didn’t want to be tuned out. He had something to get off his chest. He said, “ Well, all that’s done and said, maybe this is the right time to tell you. Got plenty of time here with my own thoughts.” He hesitated, for it wasn’t easy for him to say it. “ It’s bout time you know”, he said. “I think with me almost bitin
K-ROB Jun 2020
So, I met a cool bartender, her name is Megan
She's good people, even when I'm beggin
For a free shot, a free beer, her phone number...
She won't give it to me and that's a ******
She looks kinda like Pink but even more HOTTT
And because of her, this bar is my new favorite spot!

Megan always gives me attitude, but it's just her way...
Of saying keep dreaming girl, "I'm not gay!"
I do think she would make a real good friend,
and someone that I would stick by til the end

Megan did almost warm me about this slutty girl
When I look at Sara now it makes me want to hurl
She went home with 4 people in a week, not including me
(Megan said she almost warned me, but didn't think it was her place to say)
I guess I can see why, this girl claimed she wasn't even gay!
I just hope I didn't catch something from this *****
If I did, it's gonna be on , like a light switch!

I told Megan that is so not my style
I don't know why I am going so wild
Sara kept touching me and I told her to stay away,
So Megan helped get her off me...
And I need to tell her thanks for that, if I may!
I know I say this every other day,
I guess it's just e coping; it's just my way
But I definitely learned this time!
and now I think I'm done with this little rhyme
Throwback- written 5/13/10- this ended up framed and on the wall at that bar!
Meg Freeman Aug 2011
the night sweeps in with its great, black wings.
rustling, silk feathers.
i'm caught in the envelope, suffocated in midnight down.
i lay next to a man who is not mine and i am not his.
handsome. nice. respectable.
everything that good for me, being chaos, and he is warm.
i can feel his heart beside me. pulse. pulse. pulse.
heartbeat that is not my own. some kind of security 've missed.
but i don't feel secure.
the rhythm is not the one i love.
i lay next to a man who is not mine and i am not his.
we could label ourselves pretenders, but wed know anyways.
eyes flutter, a shiver runs through me.
braille. braille. braille flesh.
i am the pretender, creating my world as i go along.
this world is bleak in the winter. forced by the earth to be patient.
he isn't you. doesn't think. doesn't look. doesn't feel like you.
i turn over, away, stare out the window.
imagine you somewhere else, imagine you with me.
you sit in your chair, watching me. candlelight flickers.
dances over our faces, spills over the walls and settles between us.
megan. megan. are you asleep?
what? oh. he was talking to me.
back to reality.
i lay next to a man who isn't mine, and i am not his to love.
dan hinton Nov 2011
“Adam Kieslowski,  I want to punch your face in, with all due respect.”

“Dan! Don’t do it! Don’t go there!”
“I’m gonna, do it Megan.”
“Don’t! You’ll **** him!”
I was at the point of snapping
No man scared me
The blood was pumping
Through my fists.
Mike Tyson could have
Walked through the door,
******* Gargantua
I would have got froggy for
Megan.
Silly cow could never even love me
Back, but alas, tis the work
Of lust and ******* desire.
I am by no means a good fighter
But a ***** one,
A tactician,
Teeth an’ claws are no bounds for me
******* Oedipus him if you have to
I had a bellyful of beer-*****
And I was ticking over
Idling
Thinking, teasing
Working the jaw.
The door opened and I pounced
Throwing him to the floor
I could feel Megan pawing at
My back
But it was futile
When a man is pumped, even
The God’s can’t stop him.
I threw him back against
The floor
Gritting my teeth
His lip swelled like a melon
And tears filled his
Watery eyes
“Oh my...”
“What the **** did you say, buddy?”
“Dan please...”
“What the ******* messing Megan around for?”
He mumbled, blood oozed from
Every orifice and his mouth
“Answer me!”
With that, he did something
No man expects,
He burst into tears!
Floods of tears, not just a trickle
A ****** fountain.
We nearly had to call in Moses
To do his party trick with the
Red Sea.
I let him up, as Megan’s eyes
Burned my head.
With that he ran out of door
And drove off.
Puff.
Safe to say, I now had to get
Out the room
Without Megan killing me
Multiple ways.
I didn’t return for several days
Like one doesn’t return to
And aeroplane crash site.
I saw her one day, and she
Said nothing
She came up and
Kissed me on the cheek
And walked on.
I guess Adam never
Bothered her again.
I returned home
And continued to write
And drink beer.
I didn’t think
That situation was
Too bad for my
Soul.
eileen mcgreevy Jan 2011
The flames were so high, Byron was fighting hard against them, to no avail."Megan"!,"Megan"!, screaming her name, he felt engulfed,  and light headed.A thousand thoughts raced through his head, panic, seering pain with every breath he took, call an ambulance, Megan,s screams cut through him like lasers, she was trapped, scared, how must she be feeling right now?
Wood crackled, metal creaked, echos, lights, sirens!
Byron jumped, bolt upright in bed,"O ****, ****",another nightmare, each one bringing his memory closer to what happened in their cottage they had built together.
Byron was working from Leeds, commuting to Killough, his favourite village in Ireland, well, it had to be, it's where he and Megan had met. He'd planned to run the architecture business from home.HA!, home, where was that?, he wasn't sure anymore.
As Byron strolled into the bathroom, turning on the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.Almost forgetting the scars he had aquired from the fire, those visible reminders that his electrician was skimming from the funds, cutting corners, greedy little *******. The sight was gone from his right eye, and his face bore severe scarring right down to the collar bone. A small price to pay, at least he made it out alive.
He made a mental note to get back to Killough, this very night, to see Megans grave.He'd settle for anything, any reminder of Megan, she was slipping away from him, he couldn't have that, ever...another reason for moving to Killough.
part 11/20 from the novel"beautiful words" (c) eileen mcgreevy and chris smith 2011
Megan's numbers were everywhere
where ever she looked see saw them
Two pints brought to her door
One pint at number Four

Numerology was her favourite pastime
Twenty years now and still an avid fan
even her birthday was magic to her
it was Seven of the seventh seventy seven

When young she counted to Ten
before she even could walk
some say she is slightly odd
counting on fingers whilst walking the dogs

All I saw was another master of numbers
a master of the scientific arts
and when she got older
me and her were never apart

She'd tell me I was a fool, to chuck it all away
I'd say Megan read my numbers today
that would keep her quite
for these were Megan's numbers

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
John F McCullagh Nov 2013
John O’Sullivan was an electrical engineer for Consolidated Edison for Forty years. He drove himself and his staff hard, and took pride in the smooth operation of his substation on the lower East side of Manhattan.  When a man like John, who proudly self-identified as a type “A” personality, decides to take a break it so often proves to be a serious if not fatal mistake.

In the summer of 2007, my cousin John took his wife, Margaret, on a rare vacation out of the country to the sun swept beaches of Aruba.  While a beach vacation was perfect for Margaret, who loved nothing better than to lounge in the sun reading her book, it was a form of physical and mental torture for her husband.  He grew restless lying beside her in the hot midwinter sun as his pasty white skin turned a robust red despite his constant application of sunscreen.

I will never be sure what precipitated John’s near fatal stroke on that vacation trip. It may have been a combination of too much alcohol and too much sun. It is even possible that he had mixed up his daily medications.  All I know is that when my cousin was air lifted to a State side hospital, he was suffering the consequences of a severe brain damaging event.

When I saw John in the hospital, I could see that he had lost most of the use of the right side of his body and that he was going to be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. While he certainly recognized me and tried to smile and communicate as best he could with gestures and a wave of his hand he had lost nearly all his power of speech.

My college educated, urbane sophisticated cousin’s vocabulary was very much diminished by the cerebral accident and now consisted of one word: “Bang”. He made the most of his one word personal dictionary. He could, by variation in tone and inflection, make his one word sound like a greeting, a farewell, a warning, a curse or a need for intention.

The word “bang” could express a terrible wellspring of frustration.  John had spent most of his life in a position of command, first as a Marine noncom,, then as the chief Engineer who ran the substation that powered the lower part of Manhattan. Words, to him, were as vital as eyes were to an artist, ears to an artist or taste buds to a gourmoo.

Locked inside my cousin was the person we had formerly known. He was not like an Alzheimer’s victim whose mind had staged a gradual retreat from his body. Rather, I am convinced, he was being held prisoner within the folds of his damaged Parietal lobe.

From the first, there has been no question that he would never set foot in his old offices on E 14th Street again.  There could be no grand retirement party, just a quiet filing of his papers and the first payments from his retirement plan.  These were sufficient, along with his other investments, to provide him and his wife with a modest, comfortable retirement.  If not for the crash that swept the stock market in 2008, his stocks would have been sufficient to permit a healthy cousin John and his wife to tour the world. Now, in the shadow of the great recession, his remaining capital paid for the home health aides and medications that maintained his precarious existence.

Margaret passed on late in 2011, a problem with her heart, the attending physician said. I saw Cousin John at her wake, the chief mourner unable to express his grief.  I took his good hand and expressed my fellow feeling for his loss. My poor words of condolence were inadequate but he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and whispered “bang” which told me he understood. It was a gentle voice from somewhere out on the edge of sadness.

With Margaret gone, the primary responsibility for John’s care was taken over by his daughter Megan and her husband.  The family sold off the big old house in Yorkville and John moved in with Megan’s family in Pelham.  There his pension and savings paid for 24/7 nursing care and a physical therapist. It must have been a source of humiliation for this proud man, a Marine veteran of  the 26th Marine Battalion  who had  fought at Khe Sanh, to be laid upon a table and have his limbs moved by others to maintain their muscle tone in vain attempts  to retrain his surviving brain.

I last saw my cousin at the Fourth of July family picnic.  He had good color and displayed a healthy appetite. He really enjoyed the fireworks display on the East River. He said “Bang” repeatedly, with all the enthusiasm of a young child.

I got the sad news about John the day after Hurricane Sandy struck the New York area.  My cousin Megan was understandably upset and was blaming herself for allowing her father to watch the news on T.V.  He had become visibly agitated when Eyewitness news showed the Con Edison plant of E14th Street exploding and the lower half of Manhattan plunging into darkness. Megan said that Dad screamed “BANG” in a tortured voice, then slumped back into his chair and was gone.

I never did get to the services for Cousin John.  My own house was without power and heat and the gas in my tank was too dangerously low to risk the trip in those days immediately following the storm. I still think of my late cousin often, and when I do I toss a bootless prayer for him into the winds of Eternity. The substation on E. 14th has been repaired; The damaged homes ripped down or rebuilt and the reminders of the storm grow fewer and fewer like the surface of the sea grown calm in the wake of the storm.
a fictionalized memoir of the aftermath of my Cousins stroke, disability and death.
tangshunzi Jul 2014
Sono abbastanza positivo che avrei potuto essere migliori amici con questa coppia : un duo che ha avuto il loro primo appuntamento e quattro anni dopo .il loro impegno sul Colbert Report ( vedere che la proposta qui !) e una abiti da sposa corti sposa con un amore profondoper il corallo ispirato il suo preferito Essie smalto per unghie color .Sai solo questo matrimonio era destinato ad essere impressionante e così offre.I fiori di Kathleen Deery nel colore preferito della sposa .la sensazione di un incontro informale con i propri cari .ma sollevavano un miliardo di tacche sulla bella scala e le immagini di Meg Smith che non possiamo mai abbastanza mai abbastanza ;tutti fanno per davvero splendida galleria .Guardalo qui .

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Megan e George sono incontrati durante l'allenamento per una maratona insieme a Brooklyn .George ha invitato Megan ad una registrazione di The Colbert Report per il loro primo appuntamento e un paio di anni dopo la riportò a quello stesso abiti da sposa corti spettacolo da proporre .in onda !

Per il loro matrimonio Megan e George avevano così tanti tocchi personali .da bocce set personalizzato ai cocktail tovaglioli sulla barra stampato con vignette divertenti George - nessun dettaglio è stato lasciato unpersonalized !La loro zia Kimberly è una meravigliosa graphic designer e si avvicinò con il logo per il loro matrimonio - ponti gemelli ( il Brooklyn e il Golden Gate ) intrecciati a simboleggiare questa Coast East meets West Coast coppia .Megan proviene dalla Bay Area e George da Brooklyn .

Una delle tradizioni preferite della coppia a casa è la notte di gioco e così avevano Corn Hole e Bocce campo giochi sul prato così come un mazzo di carte da gioco personalizzate nei loro sacchi di benvenuto .Per incorporare la maratoneti amore di esecuzione hanno tenuto un 5k Fun Run .la mattina del loro matrimonio e spediti Marathon Pettorali come Save the Date .colore preferito

della sposa.che abbiamo spesso trovato il suo da portare nelle nostre riunioni di pianificazione .era Corallo .Ispirato da un marchio Essie di smalto ( California Coral ) abbiamo condotto che colore attraverso il tema del matrimonio in modo che tutto sembrava festosa e coesa Fotografia

: Meg Smith Fotografia | dell'artista: vestiti da sposa . Weddings On Film | Planner: Shannon Leahy Eventi| Fiorista : Kathleen Deery | Cake: Sweet Cake | Rosticcerie : Paula LeDuc fine Catering | personalizzata Dance Floor : Yonder



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California Coral Wedding da Meg Smith Fotografia_abiti da sposa on line
Joe Cole Apr 2017
Ive spoken often about my Mollie dog
My constant companion for nearly eleven  years
but the wild camping days we shared are gone
She's old like me now and just wants to sleep
And I know that one day soon she wont wake from that sleep
And so I got Megan
A little bundle of  wire wool
She chose Wendy and I, not the other way round
Miniture poodle, Jack Russel and cavelier spaniel
what a mixture but so beautiful
She loves everybody and every dog
Will she ever replace the Mollie dog?
Only time will tell
My love for Mollie dog will never fade
But Megan is the future
Tyler Zempel Dec 2018
The Anatomist

My bed being warm is what I discover as my eyes open to the sun shine coming through my window.
A shame that I came back to reality when I did, I was having a hot dream I wanted to continue.
His soft lips serenaded my entire body head to toe.
His large member caused me to lick my lips begging for it to cover my face with his snow,
or to continue on pounding me, explode and invade my womb,
then walk me down the aisle as his wife, and with him as my groom.
But that was just a dream and I have the tool here now to satisfy my desires.
I have my own lover here who comes and satisfies my sweet innocent flower.

I take my shirt off and begin to play with my *******.
They are ultra-sensitive and get me in the mood to play with my guest.
He’s the best lover any girl could ask for and has aced all of my tests.
Every morning he comes into my room and gives me what I need, never taking a rest.

I slip my hand down into my underwear and begin to play with my moist slit.
At first I was nervous and dubious at taking him on as my lover, but over the past couple years I have commit
myself to being his ***** for him to use as he sees fit.
My love for him is wrong, but it’s a love I can’t quit.
If my parents ever found out…this love of mine they wouldn’t permit.
They would scold me and call me unfit,
probably disown me and take away my last name, Schmidt.
Judge, judge, judge, that’s all the world does, ******* hypocrites!

I begin to finger myself feverishly.
I begin to breath more quickly.
Moan after moan escapes from my vocal cords tirelessly.
I look towards my bedroom door anxiously.
Please lover, come and breed me.
Please lover, come and own me.
Please lover, come and punish me!
Please lover, come and make me yours!

The door creeks open as Duke enters the room.
He barks knowing he’s about to once again plant his seed deep in my womb.
My beautiful black lab, my ***** is his to consume.
I look forward to this moment every morning, it’s the only time our love is allowed to resume.

I toss the blankets off the bed and spread my legs for Duke to see.
Smooth young and tight, Duke is lucky I allow him to get it for free.
I whistle, Duke jumps up onto the bed.
He sniffs my slit as I nod to him to go ahead.
Stroke after stroke his tongue invades my slit as he eats me to my satisfaction.
Moan after moan of escalating intensity enters his ear to express my gratification.
I close my eyes and lose myself to his wonderful tongue action.
After a stress filled twenty-four hours of life, this is a welcomed distraction.

I push Duke’s head away from me then turn around and located his erected ****.
I immediately place it in my mouth since there’s no time for small talk.
As if a dog could talk back to me anyways.
It’s nice, no talk just foreplay.
My head bobs up and down as I take his manhood deeper and deeper down my throat.
After my killer head, I’m sure if he ever had to choose between me and a hot female dog, I would win his vote.
As pre-*** begins to drip out of his ****, I stop the head and flip over on my hands and knees with my *** up in the air.
I whistle at Duke to make him aware.
He climbs up onto me from behind and inserts himself into my soaking wet slit.
He furiously humps me and causes me to submit.
I scream his name and dig my nails into my bed.
I bit down on my pillow so my parents don’t hear, I don’t want them to stumble in and discover Duke deep inside me, my ***** lips wide spread.  
I feel Duke’s manhood swell as his seed pours out inside of me.
His sweet delicious man juice invading my womb is the only way I want our *** to be.
Finished, Duke jumps off the bed and runs out of my bedroom.
Typical man, never likes to cuddle after ***, at least he can never become my groom.

I take a deep breath and turn back around to come face to face…
with my younger sister.
She’s been watching from the entrance of my bedroom the entire time.
Shocked, a face so white and full of horror, disgusted at my crime.
Her mouth wide open, a word not said.
My heart sinks, **** I’m dead.

I approach my sister, ask her to step inside and shut the door.
Still in shock, “You...were…someone…I…adore.”

“Listen to me, what you just witnessed is actually a great and beautiful thing.
It beats sleeping around and having random flings.
No worries about pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases.
My hormones are out of control and Duke’s **** is just so pleasing.”

“You’re ******* a Dog Sarah…a dog…this is ****** up beyond words!”

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad Megan, they can’t find out about this ever.
If they were to find out, they would disown me forever.
I know keeping a secret this big is a huge endeavor.
I don’t want to be known as a vile transgressor.”

“Will you stop doing…what you’re doing with Duke, right now this second?”
Besides being disgusting, I would like your soul to still go to Heaven.
On the other side, during your final judgement, all of your thoughts and actions will be reckoned.
I don’t want you, in your final moments, to learn this hard lesson.
It’s not ok to fornicate with an animal.
Nothing about your logic behind it is rational.
It’s probably a sin that’s instantly damnable,
so, do the right thing, make the right decision and become admirable.”

“I need *** Megan; I’m addicted to it.”

“Use a ******* ******* or get a **** boyfriend, don’t ***** around with a ******* dog!
Do it one more time and I’ll tell Mom and Dad and they will banish your sorry *** to a synagogue.”

“Would you be willing to play around with me Megan?
I know…don’t judge me…I know, but I’m desperate.
I would love to play with you as well if you’d like.
You don’t even have to think of us as *****.
We would just be two hot sisters having some fun together so what do you say?
Will you help me satisfy my urges so I know longer drift astray?”

“You need serious help Sarah; I think I have no choice but to go to Mom and Dad with this.
I’m not sure what’s going on in that brain of yours, but something is amiss.”

With my arms shaking from my nerves getting the best of me,
I plant a kiss on Megan in hopes she will decide not to flee.
I slip my tongue into her mouth and begin to make out with her.
I look her in the eyes hoping to discover that she concurs.

Megan slowly pushes me away.
She tells me she’s straight and not ******* gay.
With a hard, right open hand, she slaps me hard across the face.
My skin instantly turns red and stings, the slap contained no grace.
Megan shakes her head in disappointment and storms out of my room.
What will happen next, only one can assume.
This poem, along with The Mathematician and This Historian are part of a short story I wrote in poetry form containing 10 poems.  The Mathematician, The Historian and The Anatomist are the first 3 poems of that story.
Krusty Aranda Oct 2012
Everyday, when going to school, I always sat behind you on the bus.
I could hear what you talked about with Megan (boys, pop stars, glitter and pink... you know, that kind of things).
I would listen to know what to talk about with you, what you liked, so you could like me back. Oh, how I liked you.
I really liked you, and, even though we were young (13 to be exact), I knew you were the one.

Years went by. We grew up. You got even more beautiful while I got... well, not better.
Guys would follow you around everywhere you went. How I wish they all disapeared.
I was still too shy to tell you, to let you know what I had been feeling for years, since we first met. And one day I did.
I put on my nicest clothes to school. I put cologne on. I even got you a bouquet of roses, and I went to school convinced to tell you what I felt for you.
Much to my surprise you told me these exact words: "I've been waiting for you to tell me this for years. What took you so long?".
I couldn't believe my ears.
The most popular girl in school, the prettiest, was telling ME that she liked ME back.
I mumbled. I stuttered. I choked on my own words.
Luckily you knew what to do.
You leaned over to me, and kissed me, with those sweet, smooth lips of yours. I was in heaven.
A kiss so warm, so passionate, so full of love. I could never forget that kiss.
So we started going out. We would go to the movies, to the mall, for a cup of coffee or for a nice ice cream.
We didn't care where we were as long as we were with each other. We were happy... oh, so happy.
Until that fateful day.
You were over at Megan's. I was with my friends.
My phone rang, and I picked up just to hear your voice, that sweet, comforting voice I've always liked, turned into an awful, saddened weep.
You kept repeating "I'm so sorry.". I asked what was wrong, but you'd only say "I really am so sorry.". Then you hung up.
I drove over to Megan's, but you were already gone.
You left a message for me with Megan though. "She said to leave her alone. Don't call her. Don't look for her. Don't even talk to her in school."
I was devastated.

Not sure of what was going on I went to your place, and there you were, crying... in his arms.
I should have known from the way you smelled like him. The way you were away when I talked to you.

I rang the bell. When the door opened it wasn't you but him.
I said "Hi. Is Amanda home?", and proceeded to break his nose.
He threw a punch at me, and missed.
I hit him hard in the stomach, and then his head. Out cold... and bleeding.
You were screaming. Panicking.
I walked up to you while you walked away from me.
You eventually got cornered up, and sat on the floor crying, asking "What do you want?".
I crouched, and asked "So, is he a good guy? Does he know how to treat such a treat like you? Is he better than me?"
No response. Only weeping.
I got up, and headed to the door.
He was still waiting for me there, laying out cold on the floor.
He was so vulnerable, so I kicked him in the head. I kicked him so hard his spine actually snapped. He sacrificed himself for love.
I turned around to see you shocked. Horror flooded your eyes.
You were shaky, you couldn't stand, you couldn't speak. You were lost in the situation.
I walked up to you again. This time you did get to say, or actually, scream "Get away from me!".
"Ohh, but I only want to comfort you for your loss. This must be a great hit for you." I said as I wrapped my arms around your neck, and hugged you.
You fainted.

When you woke up, here you were, in my house.
You said you had made a terrible mistake. That I was, and would always be, the only one for you.
I forgave you immediately. You know I just can't live without you.
And so here we are, still together.
We've been through the worst, and now we've only got our love to live because I'd love you even after you're gone.
You'll always be with me.
When I kiss your dry lips. When I touch your cold skin. When I see into your empty eyes I know I will never have to kiss you goodbye.
Wanted to do something new, different. Don't think I nailed it, but you'll know better than me.
NiTSUDD Jul 2016
Megan
You make me feel so badly
Why don't you turn around?
Megan
You know I love you madly
My heart weighs about a pound.
Don't blame me if i ever doubt you
You know i couldn't live without you
Megan
You are the only only only.
Jacob Lawrence Nov 2011
The way you walk,
The way you gaze,
Those beautiful hazel eyes,
They put me in a haze,
The armor I've packed around my heart,
It slowly fades away,
I love you,
Ashamed that's the only way to say,
That i need you,
That when you laugh,
I melt,
That when you cry,
I'm there to dry your tears,
Thinking of the years to come,
I smile knowing that,
I'll hold your hand until the end,
scream upon the highest mountain,
Announcing my love for you,
Megan
Megan Cowzer May 2014
strong, free, open, creative, loving,
musical, caring.
It is;
3, 6, 9
It is;
The blue sky
It is;
Long walks with Dad
It is;
The memory of Mum teaching me how to sew.
When I'm free...My name is Megan, it means imagining.
ROBERT W KODAMA Dec 2015
Gage is so grand
a handsome young man
i can see his little wings
an halo so straight
but i think its time
for another tater to bake
so jack be quick
send her to the store
where they sell
the
leather n lace
that always puts a smile
on your face
an twist her thigh
with the gleen
in your eye
mister
we all want gage a little
sister
sweet megan sweet megan
you must play your part
jump on his lap
with all of your heart
giggle with glee
as you ride his knee
make it *****
make it hot
make ole jack
hit the right
spot
written to a friend that needs another baby
Forgive me, for I am condemned.
My love I see you every night,
But the flames keep me away.

I try to reach out, to save you;
The heat is too intense, it defeats me.
I can not see you through searing pain.

Your screams tear me apart, I am beaten back.
Then there is silence and I hear you no more,
Tears fall, the agony as they trace my burnt flesh.

Oh Megan, I miss you more than life itself;
You were my life, my soul, my reason to be.
Why were you taken from me, love, pray tell me?

You now haunt my nightmares, I still hear you.
Your screams split apart my sanity, and the mirror;
It forever reminds me of this scar that Hell gave me.

Now I only have the darkness inside, and shown in words.
These very words I write, as if I am to be forever cursed,
Cursed to need to remember your face, with this dead heart.
based on Byron Lorde (Phantom)
Nothing Personal Apr 2012
I have decided now
I will stay alone
in a one bed room apartment
I won't buy any new furniture
except a wooden table
to place my new television set
where I would watch
2 episodes of "The Sopranos"
everyday.

I don't need friends
I knew that long ago
Back when I was a little boy
yet
Boys of my age had forgotten even to bully me
my insipid silence mistaken for my invisibility
girls hardly noticed me
because I pretended to hardly notice them
from my 3 foot by 3 foot wooden bench & chair

Back then, I had my own world
Rather worlds,
worlds where a fictional Mr. Tom Mathews
was a savior of the planet Earth
from numerous planet Earths
floating in the ephemeral universe
all essentially evil
so that Tom had to visit them
& plant nukes within their very cores
as
"the only way out was in"

Now,
I have Megan
or Should I say had.
She lives in this beautiful efficiency
with a giant sized teddy
her idea of someone better than me.
She has a nice flat screen TV
a wonderful bookshelf
a cosy kitchen
and a talking walk in closet
where I could easily live with
her wardrobe , accessories, perfumes.

Her wonderfully brown hair is now tied
in a nice little bun
and she smells of creams and fresh oranges
and she wears formal shirts and coffee colored skirts
when she leaves for work every morning.
I could have lived with Megan
but our worlds never collided
the way they should have
although I distinctly remember
of having brushed in her kitchen
and making chocolate brownies in her oven
or watching her perfect TV
and stealing a book or two from her shelves.

My friend Chris, who will also be my ex roommate
tells me he will move in the same apartment complex
as Megan.
He says he will sign the lease come Monday
and start living in a efficiency just like hers
He says we will keep meeting on Fridays
and come un-announced to each other's apartments
our way of maintaining our beautiful friendship
yet not living under the same roof.
I gather he plans to get married early next year.

As of me,
I am excited to move into this one bedroom apartment
they say I will have a coffee table where I will read all day
and write whenever I want.
I could impoverish as well
because I won't cook food for myself.
I will stay sober
Because I won't buy beer.

I was hoping Megan would visit me
now that I will have a coffee table
so that I can read her my poems
while she sips coffee
and I get inspired by her cream odor
and the teddy bear who looks smiling back at me
with large giant ears
from her t-shirt.

© Nothing Personal. April 21, 2012.
"There wasn't anything as it seems. Or Nothing is as it seems. Innocence is a favorite lost word. " - I hate myself when I write notes for a poem. Poems are always and should always be themselves.
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2018
Steven my boy,

We coasted into a medieval pub in the middle of nowhere in wildest Devon to encounter the place in uproarious bedlam. A dozen country madams had been imbibing in the pre wedding wine and were in great form roaring with laughter and bursting out of their lacy cotton frocks. Bunting adorned the pub, Union Jack was aflutter everywhere and a full size cut out of HM the Queen welcomed visitors into the front door. Cucumber sandwiches and a heady fruit punch were available to all and sundry and the din was absolutely riotous……THE ROYAL WEDDING WAS UNDERWAY ON THE GIANT TV ON THE BAR WALL….and we were joining in the mood of things by sinking a bevy of Bushmills Irish whiskies neat!

Now…. this is a major event in the UK.

Everybody loves Prince Harry, he is the terrible tearaway of the Royal family, he has been caught ******* sheila’s in all sorts of weird circumstance. Now the dear boy is to be married to a beauty from the USA….besotted he is with her, fair dripping with love and adoration…..and the whole country loves little Megan Markle for making him so.

The British are famous for their pageantry and pomp….everything is timed to the second and must be absolutely….just so. Well….Nobody told the most Reverend Michael Curry this…. and he launched into the most wonderful full spirited Halleluiah sermon about the joyous “Wonder of Love”. He went on and on for a full 14 minutes, and as he proceeded on, the British stiff upper lips became more and more rigidly uncomfortable with this radical departure from protocol. Her Majesty the Queen stood aghast and locked her beady blue eyes in a riveting, steely glare, directed furiously at the good Reverend….to no avail, on he went with his magic sermon to a beautiful rousing ******….and an absolute stony silence in the cavernous interior of that vaulting, magnificent cathedral. Prince Harry and his lovely bride, (whose wedding the day was all about), were delighted with Curry’s performance….as was Prince William, heir to the Throne, who wore a fascinating **** eating grin all over his face for the entire performance.

Says a lot, my friend, about the refreshing values of tomorrows Royalty.

We rolled out of that country pub three parts cut to the wind, dunno how we made it to our next destination, but we had one hellava good time at that Royal Wedding!

The weft and the weave of our appreciation fluctuated wildly with each day of travel through this magnificent and ancient land, Great Britain.

There was soft brilliant summer air which hovered over the undulating green patchwork of the Cotswolds whilst we dined on delicious roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, from an elevated position in a medieval country inn..... So magnificent as to make you want to weep with the beauty of it all….and the quaint thatched farmhouse with the second story multi paned windows, which I understood, had been there, in that spot, since the twelfth century. Our accommodation, sleeping beneath oaken beams within thick stone walls, once a pen for swine, now a domiciled overnight bed and pillow of luxury with white cotton sheets for weary Kiwi travellers.

The sadness of the Cornish west coast, which bore testimony to tragedy for the hard working tin miners of the 1800s. A sharp decrease in the international tin price in 1911 destituted whole populations who walked away from their life’s work and fled to the New World in search of the promise of a future. Forlorn brick ruins adorned stark rocky outcrops right along the coastline and inland for miles. Lonely brick chimneys silhouetted against sharp vertical cliffs and the ever crashing crescendo of the pounding waves of the cold Atlantic ocean.

No parking in Padstow….absolutely NIL! You parked your car miles away in the designated carpark at an overnight cost….and with your bags in tow, you walked to your digs. Now known as Padstein, this beautiful place is now populated with eight Rick Stein restaurants and shops dotted here and there.

We had a huge feed of piping hot fish and chips together with handles of cold ale down at his harbour side fish and chip restaurant near the wharfs…place was packed with people, you had to queue at the door for a table, no reservations accepted….Just great!

Clovelly was different, almost precipitous. This ancient fishing village plummeted down impossibly steep cliffs….a very rough, winding cobbled stone walkway, which must have taken years to build by hand, the only way down to the huge rock breakwater which harboured the fishing boats Against the Atlantic storms. And in a quaint little cottagey place, perched on the edge of a cliff, we had yet another beautiful Devonshire tea in delicate, white China cups...with tasty hot scones, piles of strawberry jam and a huge *** of thick clotted cream…Yum! Too ****** steep to struggle back up the hill so we spent ten quid and rode all the way up the switch back beneath the olive canvass canopy of an old Land Rover…..money well spent!

Creaking floorboards and near vertical, winding staircases and massive rock walls seemed to be common characteristics of all the lovely old lodging houses we were accommodated in. Sarah, our lovely daughter in law, arranged an excellent itinerary for us to travel around the SW coast staying in the most picturesque of places which seeped with antiquity and character. We zooped around the narrow lanes, between the hedgerows in our sharp little VW golf hire car And, with Sarah at the helm, we never got lost or missed a beat…..Fantastic effort, thank you so much Sarah and Solomon on behalf of your grateful In laws, Janet and Marshal, who loved every single moment of it all!

Memories of a lifetime.

Wanted to tell the world about your excitement, Janet, on visiting Stoke on Trent.

This town is famous the world over for it’s pottery. The pottery industry has flourished here since the middle ages and this is evidenced by the antiquity of the kilns and huge brick chimneys littered around the ancient factories. Stoke on Trent is an industrial town and it’s narrow, winding streets and congested run down buildings bear testimony to past good times and bad.

We visited “Burleigh”.

Darling Janet has collected Burleigh pottery for as long as I have known her, that is almost 40 years. She loves Burleigh and uses it as a showcase for the décor of our home.

When Janet first walked into the ancient wooden portals of the Burleigh show room she floated around on a cloud of wonder, she made darting little runs to each new discovery, making ooh’s and aah’s, eyes shining brightly….. I trailed quietly some distance behind, being very aware that I must not in any way imperil this particular precious bubble.

We amassed a beautiful collection of plates, dishes, bowls and jugs for purchase and retired to the pottery’s canal side bistro,( to come back to earth), and enjoy a ploughman’s lunch and a *** of hot English breakfast tea.

We returned to Stoke on Trent later in the trip for another bash at Burleigh and some other beautiful pottery makers wares…..Our suit cases were well filled with fragile treasures for the trip home to NZ…..and darling Janet had realised one of her dearest life’s ambitions fulfilled.

One of the great things about Britain was the British people, we found them willing to go out of their way to be helpful to a fault…… and, with the exception of BMW people, we found them all to be great drivers. The little hedgerow, single lane, winding roads that connect all rural areas, would be a perpetual source of carnage were it not for the fact that British drivers are largely courteous and reserved in their driving.

We hired a spacious ,powerful Nissan in Dover and acquired a friend, an invaluable friend actually, her name was “Tripsy” at least that’s what we called her. Tripsy guided us around all the byways and highways of Britain, we couldn’t have done without her. I had a few heated discussions with her, I admit….much to Janet’s great hilarity…but Tripsy won out every time and I quickly learned to keep my big mouth shut.

By pure accident we ended up in Cumbria, up north of the Roman city of York….at a little place in the dales called “Middleton on Teesdale”….an absolutely beautiful place snuggled deep in the valleys beneath the huge, heather clad uplands. Here we scored the last available bed in town at a gem of a hotel called the “Brunswick”. Being a Bank Holiday weekend everything, everywhere was booked out. The Brunswick surpassed ordinary comfort…it was superlative, so much so that, in an itinerary pushed for time….we stayed TWO nights and took the opportunity to scout around the surrounding, beautiful countryside. In fact we skirted right out to the western coastline and as far north as the Scottish border. Middleton on Teesdale provided us with that late holiday siesta break that we so desperately needed at that time…an exhausting business on a couple of old Kiwis, this holiday stuff!

One of the great priorities on getting back to London was to shop at “Liberty”. Great joy was had selecting some ornate upholstering material from the huge range of superb cloth available in Liberty’s speciality range.

The whole organisation of Liberty’s huge store and the magnificent quality of goods offered was quite daunting. Janet & I spent quite some time in that magnificent place…..and Janet has a plan to select a stylish period chair when we get back to NZ and create a masterpiece by covering it with the ***** bought from Liberty.

In York, beautiful ancient, York. A garrison town for the Romans, walled and once defended against the marauding Picts and Scots…is now preserved as a delightful and functional, modern city whilst retaining the grandeur, majesty and presence of its magnificent past.

Whilst exploring in York, Janet and I found ourselves mixing with the multitude in the narrow medieval streets paved with ancient rock cobbles and lined with beautifully preserved Tudor structures resplendent in whitewash panel and weathered, black timber brace. With dusk falling, we were drawn to wild violins and the sound of stamping feet….an emanation from within the doors of an old, burgundy coloured pub…. “The Three Legged Mare”.

Fortified, with a glass of Bushmills in hand, we joined the multitude of stomping, singing people. Rousing to the percussion of the Irish drum, the wild violin and the deep resonance of the cello, guitars and accordion…..The beautiful sound of tenor voices harmonising to the magic of a lilting Irish lament.

We stayed there for an hour or two, enchanted by the spontaneity of it all, the sheer native talent of the expatriates celebrating their heritage and their culture in what was really, a beautiful evening of colour, music and Ireland.

Onward, across the moors, we revelled in the great outcrops of metamorphic rock, the expanses of flat heather covering the tops which would, in the chill of Autumn, become a spectacular swath of vivid mauve floral carpet. On these lonely tracts of narrow road, winding through the washes and the escarpments, the motorbike boys wheeled by us in screaming pursuit of each other, beautiful machines heeling over at impossible angles on the corners, seemingly suicidal yet careening on at breakneck pace, laughing the danger off with the utter abandon of the creed of the road warrior. Descending in to the rolling hills of the cultivated land, the latticework of, old as Methuselah, massive dry built stone fences patterning the contours in a checker board of ancient pastoral order. The glorious soft greens of early summer deciduous forest, the yellow fields of mustard flower moving in the breeze and above, the bluest of skies with contrails of ever present high flung jets winging to distant places.

Britain has a flavour. Antiquity is evidenced everywhere, there is a sense of old, restrained pride. A richness of spirit and a depth of character right throughout the populace. Britain has confidence in itself, its future, its continuity. The people are pleasant, resilient and thoroughly likeable. They laugh a lot and are very easy to admire.

With its culture, its wonderful history, its great Monarchy and its haunting, ever present beauty, everywhere you care to look….The Britain of today is, indeed, a class act.

We both loved it here Steven…and we will return.

M.

Hamilton, New Zealand

21 June 2018
Dedicated with love to my two comrades in arms and poets supreme.....Victoria and Martin.
You were just as I imagined you would be.
M.
Megan Cowzer May 2014
I wonder about stars,
I hear music all around me,
I see beauty,
I want joy and peace,
I am creative,
I pretend to be a kingfisher,
I feel melancholic,
I touch softly
I HOPE, to be free
I am here,
I am me.
I can't change my heart
from loving you...
My love for you began with the start
of the life I created in you...

I'll take the blame
of who you are now...
I feel so much shame
cause I know it's wrong...

I don't want it this way
between you and I...
Hopefully one day
we can both make a change...

This is not how
I want our life to be...
Let's do this now
and make us a better relationship...

I love you just as much
as I do my others...
Why do we say hurtful things and such
I'll never know...

Let's just put an end
to our troubles...
Be my friend
as well as my daughter...

2008

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
thoughts to dump May 2022
Dave and Megan:
If the world was ending right in front of my eyes,
And you weren’t there by my side
I don’t know what afterlife could mean
I don’t even know if there is such to begin..

Dave:
I used to pray a lot to the angels and Jesus,
That if I fall in love for the first time in a long time
She should be the one that would make me feel,
Carefree and alive
And then she came at the most unexpected moment
My miracle, my answered prayer.

Megan:
I didn’t know if it was an answered prayer
Or am I just being saved from despair
I used to not to believe in commitments
Because there is a part of me
That hesitates and scares
Trust issues, here and there they exist
But he tried to understand and made me feel home and safe.

Both:
As both of us grew alongside with the twists and blues
The ups and downs we battled through
10 years, an amazing journey
Our love was tested but we
Emerged with victory
Because for us
To love is to decide..

Love is a decision
Falling in love is easy
But staying in love is what
Makes the ride topsy-turvy
As the days pass by
Weeks grow into months
And years went on by and by
When it’s not anymore the
Best foot forward
When euphoria has consumed
All the unbearable fleeting feelings inside
To decide to stay with the person
You choose to commit to
Is what makes love a reality
A lifetime conviction.

If the world was ending right in front of my eyes,
You should be here by my side
You and I, we’ll travel to the afterlife
And nothing can ever tear us apart.
Love is a decision
Megan Grace Oct 2014
breathe,
breathe.
you are
flakes of
silver and
copper tubing
and lilies at
sunrise. do
not be afraid
of the thickness
of your words
or the quake
of your laugh.
you are more
than the confines
of tongues that
have tried to
define you, more
than words spoken
into your neck.
you have a century's
old soul and the
things that have
written themselves
into the backs of
your hands are
just markers for
this lifetime.
you are okay.
breathe,
breathe.
keep going.
Aarya Jan 2014
It's lunch time
And I'm in my math teachers' room
Writing godawful poetry
When I have a math test next period.
Our health class
Just watched a video about cyber-bullying
And the girl forgives her lying backstabbing ***** of a friend
I just called my friend
Who is absent
I called her twice
And she hung up twice
          Sixteen seconds
          Eleven seconds

I'm sitting in the library now
On a circular table
          Table for four.
I am one
But I always sit on a table with empty seats
So that I always know I am alone
This red ink looks darker in this lighting
A much more appealing shade
In comparison to how it looks in my bedroom

I'm thinking that I all I should be doing for the next few years of my life
Is math and music
          More of both

I'm really scared one of my friends will come and sit next to me  
I'm pretending the monsters from Six Skies are there
This might be unhealthy

Some ***** Megan just sat here
           She's not really a *****
But can't she see that my monster friend is angry
Because she just took his ******* seat

Whenever I'm in math class
I always feel like writing poetry
When I am writing poetry
I don't want to do anything else
Math class is over in five minutes
I think I did okay on my test
But Spanish is next
And I know I won't be doing okay there

My stomach feels as if
The acids that are supposed to be breaking down my food
          There is none shh
Are killing the lining of my stomach tissue
I have a self-destructing *****.

Once upon a time
This used to be a math notebook
That's all I ever write about in here
          math.

This is satisfying
My monster friends from Six Skies
           aren't here
           and
           I really wish they were.

I'm sitting encased in a red velvet colored blanket
It's actually my brothers
This is his third blanket
He got it for Christmas
Its his for a while, and then I take it
          even though I already have one of my own
So I guess he'll be getting a new one soon

The monsters from Six Skies
           are here
           watching me
           protecting me
I quite like their company
I don't want them to leave
           even at school
It's not a metaphor
But then again some days I look at myself in the mirror from several different angles of view
More satisfying than I'd imagined.

I forgive everyone for everything
             and I don't angry
Before it was anger and unforgiveness
Slowly I realized feelings like these
            were just too unnecessary for me
I think I do too many unnecessary things things like that
And I want to cut all of it up
I like basic
But I also like intricate

I have been writing poetry
           for three years.
           since I was in the sixth grade
They all used to rhyme
And my parents would be proud
Because I was proud
           as I grinned while I read them to them
And they were proud because it was about things
            like sunshine
I wonder if they would be proud now
Because I never even show them
And the only time I write about sunshine
            Is when something else is eating it away.
Spencer Craig Jun 2015
there once was a girl,very fair,
who seduced a man with her stare
they hugged and kissed
then his friends got ******
and she "tripped" down some stairs
this is for my friends jar's gf… He is mine! mwah ha ha
watch out on the stairs….
Robyn Nov 2015
God is my master.
I love Him more than all in my life.
He is the Master of my mind, my body, my heart.
He is my Shepherd.
He is beautiful.
He is love.
He is perfect.
He loves me more than I can comprehend.

God is telling me to stay.
So I will stay.
I cannot leave my church.
I cannot leave my family.
I cannot leave my city.
This is where I belong.
This is where I belong.
This is where I belong.

I belong. I belong. I belong.

In God I am made pure.
In God I am made clean.
In God I am rinsed of my sin.
In God I am white as snow.

Countless second chances He has given me.
Dear Lord, I need another today.
Today - I ask You for forgiveness.
Make me clean again.

I pray for them.
Ryan Kimmy Chiso Becky Dave Iris Mom Dad Kellie Tim Grandma Tim Debbie Laura Grandpa Betty Cindy Lori Shea Asher John Al Brian Teri Pamm Louie Chris Michael Tristan Bailey Victor Nikkie Mailee Andrew The Zachary's Kylie Michael and Megan Jade Airika Allie Bill Moriah Madison Mike Lani Moriah Tori Lenni Todd Maddie Hilary Holly Bella Jamie JT Bella Abby Sarah Anna Rick Ashtin Aaron Aleasha Christian Brian Gus Abbie Jenn Alec Jean Lois Larry Ryan Jake Bud Erin Tyler Jasmine Launts Wendy Michael Bella Sam Tony Ryan Ian Deric Jen Sam Erin Hanna Jamie Chad Mia Laura Tony Alena Tyrus Jack Luke Jenny Greg Reagan Kennedy Wilson Konni Wayne Brian Cammy Trina Mike Kameron Kasey Nikki Lexi Jelly Harley Izzie Rosie DJ Lillian Adrian Avery Asher Tyler Heidi Dan Sarah Ryan Griffin Daniel Jessica Pax Cory Abel Chandra Dave Julia Bethany Chris Orion Lindsay Twila Tracy Brandon Nate Braeden Amanda Jonah Luke Crosby Charlie Mark Debbie Ian Joy Susan Catherine Jeff Jill Andy Anna Joel Jacquie Tracy Shelby Brenden Grace Bruna Brendan Jadan Ariel Rick Johnna Laila Becca Joren Skylar David Lovins Gettys Nanny Papa My Cousins Grace Wanda Lamont Michael Amy Stephanie Tyler Tim Jeff Anthony Mikayla Emily Emily Sabrina Thomas Caleb Rene Sabra Autumn Cort Riley Cole Kaylee Amber Eryn Christina Trinity Bethany Kati Ben Jacob Megan Megan

and so so many more

May God bless you and keep you
Amen
eileen mcgreevy Feb 2011
Seering pain at the back of his throat, he could just make her out through the haze."Megan",Byron wondered if she could hear him, taking a deep breath, he held his arm over his face. He made a bee line straight for Megan, noticing her hand gestures for him to move, never, not without her.
A beam was shooting off sparks in all directions, causing Byron to lose sight for just a second. He felt a crushing pain in his ribs, he fell back trying to steady himself. Then another, and the beam landed between them, exploding into a million fireflies. The heat became unbearable, he was blind, hot, and heart broken."We love you my darling, always"
"And counting back buddy, we go, 10,9,8, and you're slowly coming back, so, 7,6," Byron didn't want to come back, not without her." And 5, Bryon, 4,3, and your eyes are feeling lighter,".He woke to the sense that he'd been crying, his face was wet, he was breathless, and his heart hurt so, so much.
"So, tell me, can you remember why you were clutching your chest buddy?"It all became so clear, it just opened up like a blooming flower, she pushed him! Megan pushed him from the falling beam, causing it to strike her.She, she saved his life!.
Jake sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head and sighed, his job was done. "I love my job", grinning like a cat that got the cream."Drink?". Byron sat up and pursed his face with his hands."Why don't i feel better man?", something was bugging him. Jake stood up and helped Bryon to his feet. "Let's go get that drink buddy, then i'll complete the puzzle for you, you're ready".......
copyright chris smith/eileen mcgreevy 2011
Stop Standing There
Pretending you don't care
Holding yours fears
Holding yours tears
     Holding yourself so  tight, so tight you won't have to fight
Leaving everything behind saying goodbye
Fading away
Taken
Stolen
Your soul
Disappearing
Misplacing
Stay strong
Hold on
Live life
Love life
Be life
Be who you wanna be .
I believe in second chances, no matter who you are
You deserve a second chance to show your worth
If it weren't for second chances, we'd have never reached the stars
And we'd forever be stuck down here on this earth
A second chance is crucial when you're learning something new
It's the time you use to fix all your mistakes
You need that extra effort to do what you must do
And if you're injured in the process,.....them;s the breaks!
If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be stuck at home
Our employers would have sent us home to sit
They'd say that we are useless and we've no brains in our dome
And to put it to us nicely....we were ****!
Second chances make us stronger, better than we were before
Because we learn a lesson when we fail
They teach us to get better, and to break on through that door
And we learn that we'll be stronger...just exhale
In sports a second chance keeps the game well within our reach
It stops it all from going all to hell
To give that extra effort, it's something you can't teach
And you just know you can do it, you can tell!
In love a second chance means we will not die alone
Unless of course you haven't got a clue
We play the cards we're given, we play the dice we've thrown
And the only one who can change it all is you.
I'm happier the second time and wouldn't change a thing
I know that I am better this time round
My reason is my Megan, with her I'm like a king
She tells me daily, and she doesn't make a sound
My second chance is special and I'm sure yours is too
She's my mulligan in this game of life
I'm sure you feel the same way about somebody who
Has relieved you of your lonliness and strife
Now, thanks to second chances we all can understand
That the first time out we all were just too young
But now, we're off the sidelines and we're marching with the band
And we're singing the best song we've ever sung.
So, please believe in second chances no matter who you are
You'll thank yourself for going that next mile
Without my second chance, I'd have never got this far
And with Megan I have learned again to smile.
ioan pearce Feb 2010
returning from a night outbusting for a peedescretion of a grave yarddark cold cemetry bloddwyn used her pantiesmegan used a wreathto wipe away the dripperssighing with relief early sunday morningworried husbands chatmy bloddwyn had no pants on,my megans worse than that she had a card stuck up her bumand a white carnationsaying....always be remembered....from the firemen down the station
A girl who stole my heart
She had it quick right from the start
I saw her once and I knew she was mine
I had to get her I didn’t have a lot of time
I would see her standing and my heart would race
My voice would tremble I couldn’t stay on pace
Her cheeks are red and her eyes are blue
Sometimes green always something new
We played ping pong till night was over
It felt like time just stopped and hovered
We can laugh till our lungs almost fail
So much fun time fly’s like wind through an open sail
I can’t think of my life without your smile
You’re cute, but preppy style
You look at me with those big eyes
They are crystal clear like open blue skies
I’m so grateful for that night at pro
Because now Megan I will never let you go
You have reminded me what its like to live
You have the biggest heart and love to give
Seeing you and your beautiful face
These memories I could never erase
A city girl and a southern boy
Different, you think we would fight like Troy
But that’s the thing we don’t at all
Sure we might get annoyed but never had a brawl
I would say that you’re in my life for a reason
It might get hard over the summer season
But just know one thing that I hold on
Because I know we have an unbreakable bond
When we are together I can feel our hearts
Nothing and I mean nothing will pull us apart
We can face time and laugh all the while
Sure it might not be our touchy style
We will get through it and it might be hard
Ill call you for a surprise sometime catch you off guard
When you are missing me just read this
It will be like a refreshing kiss
These words they will hold you tight
When I cant be there for you that night
You mean the world to me I hope you know
Gosh I’m so happy I went to pro.
A day, not so very long ago,
our lives were made complete.
GOD sent us such a blessing,
a child so soft and sweet.

A gentle, pretty little girl,
With a smile that catches your eye.
Chestnut hair, and a button nose,
eyes as blue as the morning sky.

As he looks down upon this
Earth of yours and mine.
He knows he sent an Angel,
as a blessing and a sign.

As I watch you grow
I come to realize,
How very special you are
In your Grandma’s eye.


Kathleen Kohl/Levinski
For my Granddaughter, I love you.

— The End —