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Nat Lipstadt May 2013
For Al, who left us, Nov. 22, 2014

With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.

Al,
You ask me when the words come:

With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,

Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for body restoration,
Transpositional for poetic creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.

Al, you ask me from where do the words come:

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here, 
poem aborning!
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied!

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
__________
(this poem more than most,
for its birth celebrates
my loss, your loss,
which cannot be exonerated 8/7/18)


__________
written at 4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012

Greenport Harbor, N.Y.
Cné Jan 2018
Climbing on the bus
Not looking forward to this trip
But it meant so much to her  
And how could I predict

That it would be her last hurrah
Before she passed away
Just one year ago marks
The anniversary of that day

It was an annual trip, with her twin
They took to different cities
With a group of old church folks
They called themselves
“The Traveling Gypsies”

As it turned out to be
My last fond memory
Of my mother and her twin
Before they were stripped
Of all their memories

Alzheimer’s was their reward
They gave it quite a fight
Bed ridden in their final days
Until they saw the light

Who's to say how it will end
Or where that place will be
A gutter in the streets of life
Or home where it should be

So as I sit and contemplate
These moments I recount
I think about the road ahead
And how I’ll make it count
My mom and her twin sister both had Alzheimer's. My mom was significantly more progressed than my aunt's. My aunt acted as my mom's caretaker long after we had them both moved to a memory care facility. They both did well there for about 6 months. Then my mom became aggressively depressed and crying all the time. At that time, they both had a bad sinus infection at the same time. My mother recovered but was still crying and complaining she couldn't breathe. However doctors could not find any ailments in her. My aunt ended up getting pneumonia. While in the hospital they discovered and diagnosed her with stage 4 terminal lung cancer. She died 4 months later with the last month being bed ridden, hardly eating until she was nearly only bones and on a breathing machine. My mom and her twin were always connected in the weird twin way ... knowing things between them, beyond normal comprehension. We all believe my mom knew (not in a cognitive way but in her own twin way) before diagnosed that her twin was going to die. None of us expected her to live much longer than her twin. They both had long life forces even crippled with cancer and Alzheimer's. My aunt Lorea (other mother) died Oct. 27, 2016. Up until that point my mother could still walk, talk, eat and recognize me and my siblings. However after she lost her twin she could no longer walk requiring much more individual care. We moved her to a residential home care facility. They worked really hard to try and revive her willingness to live. It wasn't a conscious choice to give up because with Alzheimer's your brain doesn't work right. She lasted less than 3 months after the death of her twin. It was heartbreaking, to say the least, to witness. I rejoice her being reunited with her twin and my father and free of the confinement of Alzheimer's but I'm still working through the finality of it on the earthly side. Growing up as a child of twins is a blessing of having two moms (one being the cool mom ... the mom you could tell anything to .. knowing she would know how to explain it to your real mom in a way you couldn't bring yourself to do) and a sister cousin, my aunt's daughter. I had an older sister (10 years) too. So in my case I had three moms I love dearly. I am grateful to still have my sister.
ejb Jun 2015
a years gone by since I realized I loved you
and everything has changed

a years gone by
and I finally don't love you

a years gone by
and I realized that maybe I never even loved you at all

a years gone by
and the idea of you still sounds great

a years gone by
but I don't really love YOU

a years gone by
and I've wasted it thinking about you

a years gone by
and I'm no longer filled with hope

a years gone by
and all I am is sad and confused  

a years gone by
and I'm still falling apart

a years gone by
and I'm still just as confused and afriad as I was on day one

a years gone by
and nothing's changed

a years gone by since I realized I loved you
and I still don't know what to do
Bryan Lunsford Sep 2018
When my heart breaks I weep as I'll weep for days,
With weeks that'll go by without any sleep I'll stay wide awake,
Where I'll wait here in the same old tiring place,
(With nothing besides this woman on my brain)
And I'll pray the nights away as I hope in our next life I find a way--
To make sure she never again goes astray,
As the blinds are closed, I'll lie here and watch another passing day,
With only the lords that knows--for her, I'll wait my whole life away
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2013
Hold your tears little man,
Ignore the hurtful things they say.
Rest your head here, with me.
Ten year old kids can be cruel,
Say things they should not say,
Hurt even their friends for no reason,
As yours have done today,
Thoughtless, mean words they were,
Said without thinking,
using bad judgment .

This thing they called you, “Fat Boy”
Or words to that effect, they mean nothing
Unless you let them, unless you don’t
Understand.  .  . Let me explain,
You are a growing boy, nearing what is
Called puberty, a physical change of
Your body from a little boy, on the way
to being a full grown man. Your body
will be ever changing, it’s how it is,
how it’s supposed to be, how it is for all people.
When I was your age, I had a more rounded
Shape as did your Dad at your age as well,
We too heard those mean thoughtless
Words directed at us. I cannot lie it hurt
every bit as much as these words and
names hurt you today.

Rest assured son of my son, dearest friend,
This chubby stuff, it’s only temporary not a
Permanente thing.

Now as to the stupidity of Mean people,
that hurt other people so thoughtlessly,
for them that state of Ignorance and
stupidity might just last forever.

Go dry your eyes and get the ball and Gloves
and let’s play us some catch.
Here wipe your eyes and blow your nose
on my sleeve and think no more about it.
Had this same talk with my grown son when he
was around the same age. Some things never change
when it comes to dealing with other people.
Meanness and ignorance it seems is generational.
To my grandson "W" you won't see this 'till you're
more grown up, until what I have told you has
become a truth apparent even to you.
With Love Poppy
Jesse stillwater Sep 2018
feel the wind whistle
down the tenebrous sky
come to carry away
my silenced heart

hold dear the love
you see through
    my dried  tears —
before  the  glint
doth  fade

lay me down alone,
my dearest friend,
eyes  to  the  sky
   neath the lone oak tree —
atop the meadow hill

where a lonely child
climbed gnarled rungs
in hope to sail away
on fleeting cotton clouds;
dreaming of a place
in the distant sky
to  call  home


Jesse Stillwater ... September 21, 2018
Thanks for reading — Jesse
PALAK-MAHROOM May 2017
Jivan ke rangraliyon men kho jayenge,
Aankhon se ojhal sare hojayenge,
Ye apne, ye mausam, ye rut pyare,
Hoke juda ye phir kabhi na aayenge
Phir na aayenge, ye phir na aayenge,
Aankhon men, rut ki huliya rah jayengi,
Ye jayengi, suni galiyan rah jayengi,
Phir Isme basengi yadon ki ve saughaten,
Jo jati huvi lamhen de jayengi,
Chhaye hain jo rang, ye phir na
chhayenge,
Phir na aayenge, ye phir na aayenge,
Tujhko niharon, ya dekhun teri surat,
Aankhon men guzre pal ki parchhaie hai,
In viranen rahon men, fizaon men,
Sang hain yaden, phir bhi ik tanhaie hai,
Guzre pal dil ko dukhayenge,
Phir na aayenge, ve phir na aayenge,
Basti rahe, har bar khyalon ki Duniya,
Chalti-chale har bar ummeedon ki duniya,
Mit-te huve sanshar ke sang mit jayenge,
Phir na aayenge ye phir na aayenge,
✯✯✯✯✯
Urdu poem in Roman fonts
PALAK MAHROOM
Jon York Jun 2011
Words of my love for her
come every day,
I just don't know what else to say.
Her eyes show the real  beauty,
that is relected in her soul.

The passion that she shows,
and her beauty as a woman,
with the passing years only grows.

Her love appeared to me
out of nowhere and along
with it came the tears.

They were tears of joy
because we finally found
one another after all
of these years.

We share so much more
then either knew was possible,
and the sixty years that it took
to find her seemed but the
blink of an eye.

Time doesn't matter now,
what is important is that
we are together and every
day that we have is a special
blessing from above.                  Jon York      2011
King Panda Oct 2017
fall hoppers kick to grass
as I walk down
sun-bleach lane

the anhedonia I felt yesterday
is pelted by the wind
away
away
to the breeze beyond
trash-bin creek

I walk past
a meddled roadside lover
kissing her own bloodied hand

must have been
bitten by the white-thing
panting at her feet

the image comes
and passes
with the balanced
autumn sunshine

I touch the twist of barbed wire
that guards a
re-habitated pond

a drop of blood
wells and surfaces
a moon-blazed penny

the dulled copper sting
of flesh and money
merges in the glory
of shortened days

all is accorded to the fleeting
nature of my heartbeat

that which comes and passes
Seanathon Sep 2018
You are ember with less orange
You are tree bark true and brook trout at play
You are earthy as the hollow dell in the Catskills still
Turning as the waterways

You are ever moving, always slight
Looking back over those delicate shoulders of yours
To the footprints of me
And in the time spent therein not a day’s older

I don’t know her name
But I know what I see
Passing. Glances. Scent of trees.
Andrew Kerklaan Feb 2015
I do not know you, but I feel you are a very dear friend of mine...

I'm certain

In some time I have turned to address you.
Even shared my intimate thoughts...

But in this reality you are just a teenage girl wearing a black toque and a flowing coat
Stood silent and alone, waiting for the train.

Our worlds may never even intersect beyond this moment...
          May never share any consequent interest past this single interaction


But I'd like to believe in the future if our paths were to cross again that you would see me...

And when you did, you would simply know that we were once friends
.
I saw a girl at the train today... Much younger then myself. We didn't talk or anything but when I held the door for her I saw something in her eyes that was really strangely familiar...
Like someone you'd spent your whole life around.. Except I'm meeting them for the very first time...
Go to sleep,
my love,
and find your happy place.
Go to sleep,
my love,
i'm sure i'll be okay.

Rest your head,
and darling stop panicking;
I can feel your whole body shaking.
rest your head,
and understand,
that my heart is truly breaking.

Relax,
my darling,
let me handle all thats coming.
Relax,
My darling,
while my heart is numbing.

Close your eyes,
my dear,
and let the light carry you away.
Close your eyes,
my dear,
no need to be afraid.

Drift away,
sweetheart,
I promise you'll feel nothing.
Drift away,
sweetheart,
we both knew this was coming.

Goodybe,
my angel-
my beginning and my end.
Goodbye,
my angel,
until we meet again.

Sweet dreams,
just know,
I love you more than life.
Sweet dreams,
Just know,
T'was an honour to have been your wife.
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
Acknowledge that we are each our own common denominator!
The sum of all our parts, brought to account !




The book stops with you!
Blame & passing the book!
Umi Feb 2018
By the time as it passes endlessly without coming to a halt.
Each human has been gifted with wealth, wether that be material or
not is of no importance, some possess more, some do possess less.
However, the most valuable wealth which is in a clear recording,
Is neither chosen to be owned, nor can one choose to abandon it.
Some tend to waste it, according to others by their individual opinion.
For some it is a cruel fate, as it runs out quicker until the life has reached its destined point, fades away into the embrace of death
Some use it for their advantage, to gain success, renown, luster.
Are you able to guess what it is, has the obvious been pointed out ?
Tick, tock, time passes, to never to turn and change it's path
As I am getting lost in emotions, such as tremor in my thoughts, I have stared into the pocket watch, its motion which gently calms me,
Thinking about the seconds which pass, I am locked in this angel's
sight with no chance to flee, digging deeper into the structure of my mind without minding the time which is escaping before my eyes.
Tick, tock, self reflection, thinking through actions, this time I spend staring is far from being wasted, far from being thrown away.
Until finally, I close it, sighing in relive

~ Umi
In memoriam of my pocket watch: Angel Zadkiel
Jamie Lee Oct 2018
In the first appearance,
of those piercing blue eyes,
my world expanded,
as you so selfishly loved me.

Without any understanding,
of my own selfishness,
we took our first steps,
into a new adventure.

Challenges and triumphs,
we faced them both;
yet it made no difference,
when the end arrived.

Three years of memories,
lessons, and growth.
You have changed,
and I have changed.

Our time has come,
to take our own paths.
Our shared journey,
was that of its own.

The absence of you,
within my life,
will never exist,
within my heart.
I sit in this place and watch the cars go by
Like the memories I have of the times that have passed
Time seems to have a lead foot
And it goes by quicker than any of them
I've buckled up for the ride
But I realize I should have just stayed home
Now I'm just waiting till the tank is on empty
Because at this rate, it won't be long till the rides over

-AJT
Umi Apr 2018
All present in the stream of time,
Connected they build a line, a river which flows uninterruptedly,
The here and now, is the future of a pasts dream, a wonderous reality,
It is the futures past, the memories recorded within the depths of it
Gravity distorts time, causing it to slow down till it's stopping point lensed from a black hole, lurking within shadows of remorse in space,
Fished out from the sea of passing events, it keeps flowing, but now it does so while not including the fallen one who embraced a blackhole,
Time only knows one path, straight ahead with no slips and turns,
The present is the pasts future and what was thought to be possible,
It is the little wealth every living being possesses yet it is overseen and forgotten, until the moment of ones death drives gladly near,
From the womb to the tomb, drowning within the waves of a temporal lengh, the event of an entity's existence and its period.
A pace for an allotment, given from the complaints of an worldly life,
Spend it well, unlike the spring we cannot turn the tide, recycle again!
But for that matter the world of dreams holds a sweet embrace to all,
After all, you don't need to die in a dream.

~ Umi
Brother Jimmy Jan 2018
Avoiding magic,
Elf, and bowl...
Nothing’s tragic
If made whole

Avoidance carries
Heavy loads
The miracle tarries,
Mind implodes

But winged creatures
Want dire things
Say earnest preachers
Who pull off wings

Perhaps the church
Should be avoided
And left in a lurch
As Christ destroyed it

When he read
From the scroll
Turns of head
All eyes did roll

The spirit is upon me
I’ve been anointed
To set captives free
I’ve been appointed


And as he put the scroll away
He uttered aloud, almost in song:
“These words are fulfilled in me today”,
Infuriating the offended throng

Leaving chins
Upon the floor
Churchy grins
Appear no more

They move as one
To chase him off;
To Him, what fun,
The shout and scoff

He looked not proud
On the brow of the hill
Passed through crowd
All felt a chill

For this, perhaps
Is how He loved
The cards collapsed
And all were moved
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
why must time progress??
i need to take a rest
each falt'ring sentence brings
me closer to my death
Lily May 2018
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
Juhlhaus Jul 23
I felt a tree's heart one summer
Night after the heatwave;
The wood was damp where abandoned
Roots drew the cool groundwater, still
Trying to make cells, shade, and scent
As they'd done for more years than I
Walked by without pause,
Until the tree was gone.
September Roses May 2018
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Ive had a few people wonder.
Its limbo
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man
I know not to love,
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days
a slave to his ways-
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret
I can never reveal,
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give
but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked
on him like a drug,
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game
I have no shame-
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience
I knew so well,
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry
in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him
is playing with fire,
the flames...they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred
hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment
I beg for more,
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me
it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more
with each passing day,
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubts go away
so for now I'll stay-
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
As I picture myself in the future
Through years of HRT
Small glimmers of excitement
Reflect off the walls of my heart
I rarely feel excitement these days
So this instance is important
I picture ****** hair and muscles
A deepened voice ands flat chest
The physical changes excite me
It's the social ones that scare me
I cannot imagine having male privilege
I cannot imagine not feeling objectified
I cannot imagine being read as a man
I was raised in a position of oppression
I am constantly stared at and made into
Nothing more than the prospect of my *******
And yet,
One day,
It will no longer be that way
I'll just look like a basic white boy
And they'll have no idea
Except that I will not stay silent
I will not hide in the shadows
I am transmasculine and nonbinary
And I refuse to remain invisible
Donall Dempsey Apr 2018
"...PASSING STRANGE..."

Rose, arose & having risen:
...was angry.

'You never call me
by my name

only love & darling.'

'A rose by any other name
would smell as sweet! '
I quoted.

'That's neat! '
she sweetly smiled.

'That's Shakespeare! '
I whispered in her ear

and kissed her
sweet sweet smile.

(Each reflected in the other's eye) .

'Oh, quote me that kiss again! '
she sighed.

'How I do love thee...! '
I cried.

'...let me count the kisses! '
she replied.

My lovely darling

Rose.
The "...passing strange..." are the stories that Othello tells Desdemona to win her heart....they were not only strange but surpassed all the strange things that could be!
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