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g clair Oct 2013
Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

She's your favorite pillow on a double wide recliner
or your front porch Adirondack with your early evening stogie
peace and quiet is the theme of your real life day-dream
the only noise you want to hear is from your 60 inch flat screen
with surround sound and remote, watching oldies you old goat,
Twilight Zone and Walking Dead, you've got Stooges in your head, and all the talkshows and the news  is in between

you're not hangry, you're not mean, Freedom understands your bean
with your crockpot full of chili you've been full since you've left Philly
and don't really need a maid around in fact the thought seems silly
you can cook and you can clean, you can work from home and preen
occupied  with daily orders and you like to clean your quarters
you've got all the latest gadgets you're not wanting for a house guest
since deliveries come daily  thank the UPS guy, Bailey
and by now you're feeling quite blessed
'cause the shipping on your stuff is mostly free.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

On those days you're feeling needy, there's that lady at the counter
who knows you by your first name and the waitress with her smile
and the few words back and forth let's you know she recognizes you
remembers how you like your coffee since you come for breakfast weekly
and it's so nice to chat with Kathy for a while.

Who could blame you, loving freedom since she doesn't seem to take
but will fill your heart with pleasure never make your head to ache
never needing any comfort, never waiting at the table
after cookingup your favorite, never asking you to come home
from wherever else you're hanging never asking any questions
always free from expectations who could measure up to Freedom's wit and charm?

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

So called friends there on your Facebook clinging to your every word
as if coming from a guru when you're feeling like a nerd.
they applaud your sense of humor, all the items you are SHARING
and they LIKE the way you're looking and the way you that you respond
for your intellect is hooking and you're forming a close bond
over politics and reason, like your thoughts on this election
and the president and treason or the stuff that you've been cookin'
yeah, you've got a wife named freedom and I know, if you can't beat 'em
I'd be wise to choose my freedom over you.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

Now you've filled up all your neediness without a real lover
hey there now but that's your business between you and Freedom's cover
as for women, you don't need 'em cause you've sworn off love for living
and for sure you love your Freedom and to these ends you watch your giving.
Now you're turning up the music and then you're surfing through your favorites
and flipping through the channels and those periodic moments
gotta catch up on your reading,organize your book collection
get your Ebay up and running you can do without direction
or distraction or attention

do the laundry
mow the lawn
fix what's broken
nothings wrong

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

maybe you go and take a shower and then shave for like an hour
don't forget to flush the toilet, boil an egg and eat some yogurt
top if off with some granola plan your week out, date with Lola
watch the leaves fall and then scatter,
rake 'em up
'cause these things matter,
crack a beer and catch a rerun
never mind the stuff that's undone...

Somewhere deep inside you, you are still the same old lonely
as you were the other year, never mind that second beer
think you realize you miss me, bet sometimes you'd like to kiss me
holding hands while watching TV, maybe someone just to talk to
and to laugh at all your old jokes and to share a little something
that you whipped up in your crockpot, glass of wine, latte or mocha
never mind, let's dance the polka, right that tightness in your shoulder
like John Lennon and his Yoko...

You decide to dial my number  
I usually don't usually like to answer 
 on the first ring  but by chance, you're
  saying something, wait a second
'cause I gotta turn my sound down
oh you're singing something funny,
and I like your phone voice honey
it's this old familiar tune I wrote for you

"Come closer to me, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hangin'
on the fringe of my heart
with your white knuckled fear
for our freedom stands near
and we dare not even tell her we're afraid"
For my dear old friend, a confirmed bachelor, who goes by Poppy, or Bubba.
spysgrandson Oct 2012
Aunt Gracie took me there
for a philly and five cent cee-gar
old enough to fight,
old enough to puff on that stogie
she said
(and not much more)
I spun my stool like I was on a carnival ride
(had only one beer with Uncle Lon, but your first beer is the best)
and Gracie looked at me
like I was still the kid
who broke her basement window
with a bad pitch
when I was ten
yeah, I was, still that boy
seven years later
in that glass box of light
humming in the concrete night
big round Gracie smilin’ at me,
looking like she was gonna cry
she had signed those papers
lied with that pen
making me old enough to be a killer
and smoke that cigar, I suppose
the couple eating eggs and bacon
asked if I was shipping out
six AM, yes sir
the woman smiled like Gracie
the man nodded his head, said
**** a *** for me
sure thing, sure thing
me thinking killing one of them
would let me live,
forever,
forever, and wouldn’t be any different
from playin’ God with bee-bees and birds
which I had done a time or two
with my Daisy
cook put my philly in front of me
his eyes locked on the counter
like someone condemned
to never hold his head up high
and trapped in that diner
forever,
forever feeding
me and other nighthawks
who come to this place
the last space of light
in the hungry night
thanks for the sandwich, I said
he said that’s free
but the man eatin’ eggs
said it’s on me
cook didn’t look at the man
went to cleaning some pan
was then I noticed he limped
bad
I asked how he got hurt
he kept his eyes on his sink
said, it was a long time
before this night
were you born that way?
nobody born this way son
Gracie’s elbow nudged mine
but sixteen and full of all
of one beer, I was gonna keep askin’
how--
it was a long time
before this night
I know, but how--
guess you’ll know
soon enough
we were
clawing our way
from a French trench
filled with gas and gasps
of boys with your face
too dead to cry, too dead to scream
when those machine gunners cut loose
what I got was some good luck
and one of those big rounds
in my knee
Gracie’s elbow moved away
she put her hand on my leg
(my hand was on my philly, limp and still)
you got shot by the Krauts in the Great War?
he didn’t say anymore
and I didn’t eat my meal
 
Gracie was good to me,
I know she wrote all the time
but we didn’t always get our mail
on those big ships, many men
would leave their suppers on the floor
in all that stink of seasick
they taught me to play cards
told me jokes, gave me smokes
Lucky Strikes
we were going to some place
with a funny sounding name
Ee-wa Gee-ma, Ee-wa Gee-ma
at night, when I would look
at the black bottom of the bunk above me
I would see
someplace green, Ee-wa, sunny, Gee-ma
someplace with curling trees
and birds for my daisy to shoot at
other nights, in that dark,
in that stale stink of tobacco and puke
I would see the humming light
of the diner that night, wishing
I had eaten that philly sandwich
and smoked that cigar
(which I left by the plate)
I would think of Gracie
and how she begged me
to confess my sins
(to the recruiting sergeant)
to come back
safe, whole, she said
(but I didn’t know what whole meant)
after that, I heard only the voices of men
some barking orders and commands
others whimpering,
whispering
in the same dark
ship of steel
 
 
when I saw the grey rocks
and flak-filled sky, and heard
the swoosh of surf
and the thunder
of our ships’ guns
and some rat-tat-tat
from the invisible holes
I knew I knew,
nothing yet of hell
 
Happy, we called him
was dead
all nineteen years of him
on that **** hole of beach
his guts strewn across the sand
(his life story I guess)
making their peace with *****
and the red and black blood
of other boys and men
who played cards
and flipped open their Zippos
to light my smokes
told me jokes
and laced their boots with me
that very morning
 
by the time
the ramp fell
I spotted Happy
my stinging eyes stuck
to his shredded belly
we, all of us, fell forward
into the shallow Pacific
ran, with all our gear clanging
to dunes high enough to hide
to hide,
but only long enough
to catch our breath
and smell cordite, fear-sweat,
and burned flesh
we did not take time to gag
over the dunes we went
told to make it to a rock
some twenty of us
to a rock no bigger than Lon’s ‘36 coupe
by the time we hid behind the rock
only eight of us hunched there
the others were where?
didn’t know, didn’t care
I had my piece of rock
rounds kept poppin’ off
the other side
from all those invisible holes
filled with slant eyed demons
my ears were ringing
when I heard the corporal say
start putting fire on that hole
what hole, what hole, what hole
the words were stuck somewhere
deep inside, not in my throat
but they were there
trying to ask him where
what hole? what hole
(I thought for a moment about Gracie and coming back whole?)
the corporal, OK, I forgot his **** name
he wasn’t in my platoon
he said put some fire on that hole
one more time
but then when he got up to shoot his M-1
something made his helmet fly off
and most of him went to the ground
the part that didn’t go out the back of his head
Tommy grabbed my arm
(Tommy taught me that four of a kind beats a full house)
and said something
and said it again
over there, over there
OVER THERE
when I looked where he was looking
I saw them, one with a tan helmet,
the other with a shiny black head of hair
Tommy was trying to point his M-1
at those **** who were firing
their 92 machine gun
at those boys on the beach
I pointed my M-1 at them too
but my hands were shaking too bad to aim
Tommy aimed I think
and we both kept shootin’ at those ****
who finally just looked like they went to sleep
but they never woke up
but neither did the other six boys
who were hiding behind that rock with us
because as soon as Tommy and me
started shootin’ at those ****,
they turned that 92 at us
but all those boys were in front of us
pressed so tight against that stingy rock
they couldn’t breathe
or move
even enough
to get their M-1 carbines
turned
in the right direction
so when those **** turned that 92
on the bunch of us
Tommy and I were in the right place
behind six poor boys
who couldn’t move
and got their young bodies
peppered with every round
that come from the hot barrel
of that *** 92 machine gun
once those two *** boys were asleep
I felt something warm on my arm
it was blood from Hector’s face
but Hector didn’t have a face left
part of it was on my sleeve
I think
but I didn’t look
Hector was in my squad
and he wore a Saint Christopher
to keep him safe
Hector didn’t lose all his head
like I heard Saint Christopher did
but most of it
and if that pendant
and all his mama’s prayers
didn’t keep him safe
I guess nothing could
 
I don’t remember when
I was able to sleep
through a whole night
without wakin’ up
thinking about
Hector, the corporal
and the other five boys
who died right there
behind the rock
there were a million other rocks
where boys
“went to sleep”
only they didn’t wake up
feeling Hector’s warm blood
on their arms
shivering
before it even got cold,
dry, and black
 
Gracie told me
the diner closed
she didn’t know why
but now
when I can’t sleep
and walk the pavement
in the middle of the city night
I go to that dark corner cafe
looking for the buzzing light
I want my cigar I did not smoke
and once again hear the words
the limping man spoke
I don’t have any more questions
he won’t want to answer
but if I did
they might be stuck
down inside
not in my throat
but deeper
where things churn
but don’t ever get seen or heard
I do wonder
if those other boys
at the rock,
and those other rocks,
all those other rocks
are taking these lonely late night walks
or if they had talked
with a limping man
who fed them for free
who thought he was lucky
and spoke words
no young eager bird killers
could yet understand
Nighthawks refers to a 1942 Edward Hopper painting of a corner diner and was the inspiration for the first and last stanzas
g clair Aug 2014
Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

She's your favorite pillow on a double wide recliner
or your front porch Adirondack with your early evening stogie
peace and quiet is the theme of your real life day-dream
the only noise you want to hear is from your 60 inch flat screen
with surround sound and remote, watching oldies you old goat,
Twilight Zone and Walking Dead, you've got Stooges in your head, and all the talkshows and the news  is in between

you're not hangry, you're not mean, Freedom understands your bean
with your crockpot full of chili you've been full since you've left Philly
and don't really need a maid around in fact the thought seems silly
you can cook and you can clean, you can work from home and preen
occupied  with daily orders and you like to clean your quarters
you've got all the latest gadgets you're not wanting for a house guest
since deliveries come daily  thank the UPS guy, Bailey
and by now you're feeling quite blessed
'cause the shipping on your stuff is mostly free.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

On those days you're feeling needy, there's that lady at the counter
who knows you by your first name and the waitress with her smile
and the few words back and forth let's you know she recognizes you
remembers how you like your coffee since you come for breakfast weekly
and it's so nice to chat with Kathy for a while.

Who could blame you, loving freedom since she doesn't seem to take
but will fill your heart with pleasure never make your head to ache
never needing any comfort, never waiting at the table
after cookingup your favorite, never asking you to come home
from wherever else you're hanging never asking any questions
always free from expectations who could measure up to Freedom's wit and charm?

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

So called friends there on your Facebook clinging to your every word
as if coming from a guru when you're feeling like a nerd.
they applaud your sense of humor, all the items you are SHARING
and they LIKE the way you're looking and the way you that you respond
for your intellect is hooking and you're forming a close bond
over politics and reason, like your thoughts on this election
and the president and treason or the stuff that you've been cookin'
yeah, you've got a wife named freedom and I know, if you can't beat 'em
I'd be wise to choose my freedom over you.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

Now you've filled up all your neediness without a real lover
hey there now but that's your business between you and Freedom's cover
as for women, you don't need 'em cause you've sworn off love for living
and for sure you love your Freedom and to these ends you watch your giving.
Now you're turning up the music and then you're surfing through your favorites
and flipping through the channels and those periodic moments
gotta catch up on your reading,organize your book collection
get your Ebay up and running you can do without direction
or distraction or attention

do the laundry
mow the lawn
fix what's broken
nothings wrong

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

maybe you go and take a shower and then shave for like an hour
don't forget to flush the toilet, boil an egg and eat some yogurt
top if off with some granola plan your week out, date with Lola
watch the leaves fall and then scatter,
rake 'em up
'cause these things matter,
crack a beer and catch a rerun
never mind the stuff that's undone...

Somewhere deep inside you, you are still the same old lonely
as you were the other year, never mind that second beer
think you realize you miss me, bet sometimes you'd like to kiss me
holding hands while watching TV, maybe someone just to talk to
and to laugh at all your old jokes and to share a little something
that you whipped up in your crockpot, glass of wine, latte or mocha
never mind, let's dance the polka, right that tightness in your shoulder
like John Lennon and his Yoko...

You decide to dial my number  
I usually don't usually like to answer
on the first ring  but by chance, you're
  saying something, wait a second
'cause I gotta turn my sound down
oh you're singing something funny,
and I like your phone voice honey
it's this old familiar tune I wrote for you

"Come closer to me, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hangin'
on the fringe of my heart
with your white knuckled fear
for our freedom stands near
and we dare not even tell her we're afraid"

For my dear old friend, a confirmed bachelor, who goes by Poppy, or Bubba.
I drank musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with
     the millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter
     one night
And his face had the shining light of an old-time Quaker,
     he spoke of a beautiful daughter, and I knew he had
     a peace and a happiness up his sleeve somewhere.
Then I heard Jim Kirch make a speech to the Advertising
     Association on the trade resources of South America.
And the way he lighted a three-for-a-nickel stogie and
     cocked it at an angle regardless of the manners of
     our best people,
I knew he had a clutch on a real happiness even though
     some of the reporters on his newspaper say he is
     the living double of Jack London's Sea Wolf.
In the mayor's office the mayor himself told me he was
     happy though it is a hard job to satisfy all the office-
     seekers and eat all the dinners he is asked to eat.
Down in Gilpin Place, near Hull House, was a man with
     his jaw wrapped for a bad toothache,
And he had it all over the butter millionaire, Jim Kirch
     and the mayor when it came to happiness.
He is a maker of accordions and guitars and not only
     makes them from start to finish, but plays them
     after he makes them.
And he had a guitar of mahogany with a walnut bottom
     he offered for seven dollars and a half if I wanted it,
And another just like it, only smaller, for six dollars,
     though he never mentioned the price till I asked him,
And he stated the price in a sorry way, as though the
     music and the make of an instrument count for a
     million times more than the price in money.
I thought he had a real soul and knew a lot about God.
There was light in his eyes of one who has conquered
     sorrow in so far as sorrow is conquerable or worth
     conquering.
Anyway he is the only Chicago citizen I was jealous of
     that day.
He played a dance they play in some parts of Italy
     when the harvest of grapes is over and the wine
     presses are ready for work.
JLB Dec 2011
You’re a groovy tomato dancin’ with loose-tongued disco fries.
Chillin’ in limbo, sippin’ on sangria, and eatin’ on my pride.
Racin’ on a superhighway with scorchin’ thumbs and eloquent lies,
But my guts are wrenchin’ and my eyelashes are flashin’, much to your surmise.
I drank your love like a dino, now I’m bringin’ out your prehistoric side.
Baby, I can run your city with a stogie and a ****** dancin’ in disguise,
But this ****, it don’t mean nothin’, or at least not what you’ve implied.
boredom is a tight shirt,
a blanket shamefully pulled over it
boredom is how whiskey learns how to taste better,

chum steeps in the waters constantly,
the fragmented dregs of flesh dance and so we catch them cautiously
with our gnaw of impatience

boredom is waking up early and laying in bed for an hour or three,
occasional outbursts of "fuuuucccckkkk" - and then it's coffee
rolling cigarettes out of abandoned butts - a true old stogie

television, ******* turned down in volume,
***, movements of no virtue
more whiskey and then the pillow and then things get interesting
Tryst Jan 2016
Give me a line and a Wisconsin dime
And I'll plea till I'm free as I'm doing my time
And I won't chase the man for a stogie or can
When I leave this box of mine

Give me the fudge of a Wisconsin judge
With a hole in his soul and his wink and his nudge
And his steadfast denial of a right to fair trial
And his will that will not budge

Give me the hope of a Wisconsin rope
And a beam and the dream of the chance to elope
To the land of the free in a plot 'neath a tree
On a fishing river *****
Cedric McClester Oct 2018
By: Cedric McClester

Saudia Arabia
Protectors of the Islamic Faith
Is kingdom that’s not safe
Whose behavior makes one chafe
Under MBS it’s anybody’s guess
Who’ll be killed or at best
Locked away in a hotel
Until their wrists and ankles swell

Although the evidence is murky
In a motion that was jerky
At their embassy in Turkey
They killed Jamal Kashoggi
Before he could light a stogie
And chopped his body up
So as not to interrupt
Their plot to cover-up

How about the war in Yemen
That has no predictable ending
Seems to have ‘em hemmed in
And what they cannot hide
Is that it’s clearly genocide
Which the US is complicit in
In the name of King Salman
Look at the weapons that we send

What we can’t ignore
Are their actions we abhor
Which they must answer for
Or is it business as usuall?
Because of our refusal
To make them conform
To accepted norms
Which should set off alarms










Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
george May 2015
“I met Elvis in Louisville,
He signed my record
And kissed my cheek.”
She pointed to
The framed vinyl
Hanging beside the old cross.

The man in the rocking chair
Coughed and bit into an apple.
The woman cut into a
Seven tier molasses cake.

The radio played the National Anthem,
And the old man twirled his fingers in the air,
Whistling as the wind came in through
The window.

I’m chasing after a man who looks like my Great Grandpa.
He was a **** with a salty side eye,
Blue pearls embedded in his
Masochistic, alcoholic head.



Oil! Coal!
Black lung!

Liquid gold off the brushes,
Mines are still
There but the town is sold.

Things that
Have played out long before I
Was born.

Freshly rolled cigarettes
By hand.

His lighter was Navajo blue
And his mustache was alright
He came from San Francisco
But he was born in Wheeling

“Come on in, Jim,
The *** is boiling.”
She said from behind
The screen door.

“Hold on,
I’m talking politics with
The youngin’.”
And as he said that,
He rolled his lips in
An O.

“Put it in your mouth.”
He said as he gave me
A cigarette.
He lit it up,
And told me to inhale.

I blew the smoke out of
My nose,
I didn’t cough
But my eyes watered.


He got up and left me
On the porch with
A rolled stogie
And playing cards with
Pretty women on top.
Samuel Fox Apr 2016
the patrol car has left the block once more,
a bull shark circling
nearer to some shore, headlights
blared, a black silhouette steering the vehicle;

night kisses the horizon, pecks it sharp
like a bullet case
scraping the darkling pavement,
only the whitest stars visible above.

many like me stroll sidewalks at this hour,
smoking a stogie
or sitting on empty swings
in playgrounds vacant of laughter; it is better

that children sleep while they can and can dream
before the true night,
that blight of bruise blue, sirens
wailing on their way to steal away some dark man

from the streets. where I stand on an apartment stoop
I count the vehicle
for the fourth time, lurking
out around the corner, like a wolf dressed metallic.

nothing gets better come nightfall. nothing
gets done while asleep.
i slip on my shadow, hood
dark, concealing my face. lean back into the steps

and light another cigarette. inhale.
exhale. most don’t have
to worry: their paleness turns
them ghostly, invisible, to the patrolling cars.

but I wear my darkness. i wish I knew
how to make sparks fly,
have them issue from throat, crack
into splinters of glass. the law tells me to sit

but I refuse. i am a phosphorus
fuse; i am whitened;
but i am impoverished,
and I too have my own reasons to be frightened.
Francie Lynch Jun 2014
Byron loves to golf, but in the dead of winter, when he has his wood stove radiating heat, he likes to play darts. The board hangs on a door separating the main garage from his store heap of empty beer cans, crushed and bagged. Thousands of them. He also has a ****** stuck on a wall. The **** just flows out to the ground. He always warns us not to dump in his ******. The very thought irks me. Like golf, Byron threatens to “kick my ***” in darts. He has a predilection for my posterior in the most unthreatening way. In fact, he may be homophobic. He throws a dart like an Amazon pygmy. Fatal to success. However, golf is never far from his mind during the raging snows we get. Although I helped with the spelling and small stuff, Byron penned the following. I came up with the title.

Intimations of Fairway Play

I'd rather hit the links today,
Take an eight on five;
Blame the wind or shift of weight,
Than shovel out my drive.

I'd rather search under trees,
Twigs, leafs and water;
And curse the squirrel that thought my shot
Was food for winter fodder.

I'd rather have a downward lie
On pock-marked naked ground;
Than sit and watch Keegan Bradley
Get it up and down.

I'd rather have a green fringe putt
That lines up with goose droppings;
Or see a fine three footer lip
Than hear the snow plough coming.

I'd rather shoot a ninety-nine,
And pay for rounds of ale;
Than sit in front of my wood stove
During snow and sleet and hail.

I'd rather shank or stub my ****,
Yes, get a double bogie;
Or miss a hole-in-one by inches
And put up with Francie's stogie.

Francie can card seventy-two
And make an eagle putt;
It matters little what he does,
I know I'll kick his but.

Yet still I languish near my fire
And watch the Pros play golf;
At Pebble Beach or someplace warm
I wish they'd all *******.
Jude kyrie Sep 2016
1945
The endless war was over.
We were all returning to the new normal.
That is if anything could ever be normal again..
The train trundled along the british countryside
The towns the counties passing slowly by.
Rows of houses country farms
The edge of Scotland  ahhh Scotland.
We Passed the cities into the Highland where pristine lochs sparkled in the rare sunshine.
She got onto the train at Inverness
A change of vehicle descending south.
To a London I did not want ever to see again.
I was reading my book on the armies of Rome in England.she took a sandwich out of her oversized purse. would you like one she asked softly.?
I was famished normal protocol apolite no.
But my hunger screamed even louder than my reticence
yes that would be lovely.
Thank you so much.
The food  trolley arrived I ordered two cups of watery after war coffee
And two custard tarts.
I showed her Hadrians wall
As we passed it.
The city of York which had been the centre of the British civil war
Cavaliers and roundness and all that.
I guess by now she knew I was a terminal bore.
But she did not seem to mind
She smiled and laughed dutifully at my jokes.
What she did not know
By the time we reached Crewe
I was in love with her.
It was obvious  a woman as beautiful as her.
Would have no interest in such a stogie old Bachelor  schoolmaster like me.
I had no skills in alluring the fairer ***.
Only Shakespeare Plato descartes.
But as the train pulled into Euston
dust from the coal fired engines entered
  a piece of soot into my eye
From the open window of the carriage

She came to my aid taking the dust from my eye with the rolled corner of her handkerchief. The pain immediately subsided. And she kissed my lips softly yet firmly.
I have never kissed a man unintroduced she whispered.
But I do not want to wait for you
you are very shy.

2000
The snow fell on Greyfairs school early that winter
We had retired into the headmaster's quarters which would be ours for the rest of of our days.
I remember the train my love.
She whispered her beautiful grey eyes as young as the springtime.
You gave me half your ham sandwich my love I answered weakly.
Then at Easton you kissed me first.
Like this she said her familiar sweet.lips reached mine.
That's because I found the man that I wanted for my life partner she purred.
The light faded in my eyes
She melted into oblivion.

I was on a train alone again like so long ago.
The British rail trolley came
I bought two weak watery coffees and two custard tarts.
Keep riding sir
the lady's voice said kindly.
she will be with soon at Inverness.
Jude kyrie Dec 2017

THE Lady on the  Train.... A Romantic Love Story

1945 in postwar England.

The endless war was over.
We were all returning to the new normal.
That is if anything could ever be normal again.
The train trundled along the British countryside
The towns, the counties, passing slowly by.
Rows of houses, country farms, peace and tranquility once more.
The edge of Scotland ahhh! Scotland.

We Passed the cities into the Highlands
where pristine lochs sparkled in the rare northern sunshine.
She got onto the train at Inverness.
A change of vehicle descending south.
To a London, I did not want ever to see again.

I was reading my book on the armies of Rome in England.
She took a sandwich out of her oversized purse.
would you like one she asked softly.?
I was famished normal protocol a polite no.
But my hunger screamed even louder than my reticence
yes, that would be lovely.
Thank you so much.

The food trolley arrived I ordered two cups of watery after war coffee
and two custard tarts.
I showed her Hadrians wall
as we passed it.
The city of York which had been the center of the British civil war
Cavaliers and roundheads and all that.
I guess by now she knew I was a terminal bore.
But she did not seem to mind.

She smiled and laughed dutifully at my jokes.
What she did not know
By the time we reached Crewe
I was in love with her.
Obviously a woman as beautiful as her.
Would have no interest in such a stogie
old Bachelor schoolmaster like me.

I had no skills in alluring the fairer ***.
Only Shakespeare Plato Descartes.
But as the train pulled into Euston
dust from the coal-fired engines entered
a piece of soot into my eye
From the open window of the carriage

She came to my aid taking the dust from my eye with the rolled corner of her handkerchief. The pain immediately subsided. And then she kissed my lips softly yet firmly.
I have never kissed a man unintroduced she whispered.
But I do not want to wait for you
you are very shy.

2006
The snow fell on Greyfriars school early that winter
We had retired to the headmaster's quarters which would be ours for the rest of our days.
I remember the train, my love.
She whispered
her beautiful gray eyes still as young as the springtime.
You gave me half your ham sandwich
my love I answered weakly.
Then at Euston, you kissed me first.
Like this, she said her familiar sweet.lips reached mine.
That's because I found the man that I wanted for my life partner she purred.
My last vision in this world was her beautiful face.
The light faded in my eyes for the last time.
She melted into oblivion.

I was on a train alone again like so long ago.
The British rail trolley came
I bought two weak watery coffees and two custard tarts.
Keep riding, sir be patient
the tea lady's voice said kindly.
She will be with us soon, at Inverness
Train travel in the past Ahhhh  so romantic
Jude
Gary Feb 2015
My soul use to be open
But now is closed.
Like some detour, on a dirt road
You'll never know
Where these thoughts, could go.

Once open, like an all night diner
Was where you could find my mind
But now, the light is out
And closed,  is the sign.

Once this soul had glistened
With trust
Shimmered all it's thoughts
Like gold
Now it is shriveled and dry
Not worth a cent
With thoughts too old.

A day late, a dollar short
Once people were proud of me
Now they just set me on fire
To light their stogie.

This old soul, use to be good
Like this old bottle of gin
Now they're both empty and useless
You got what you wanted
Now go buy some fascist label to replace us
We know our place,
Upon the dusty shelve
Next to the roses, you bought last year
Wilted, dry and deteriorating
From lack of interest.
Charles Sturies Dec 2017
Come with me
down the ladder of success a few steps
to a snowflake
in the wintertime, not to borrow
from Robert Frost,
to see Miss Merry Christmas
with her white muffler
and her grin like Jacqueline Onassis.
We'll find some competent people
to climb that
slippery, slimy, scratchy, stogie
ladder of success
with sweat, blood, and tears, to
borrow from Winston Churchill
Charles Sturies
Round and round, we go,
Ball of confusion,
Daily intakes of illusions,
Sending this,
New kids confusion, broke the constitution,
Now im marked, for the persecution,
Abusing, free will mics spill,
Ice water in glass,
Yo you can feel, the chill,
They say madness, you real,
Master swordsman,
With the low appeal,
Dropped from the tiers of heaven,
To bless the lesser than,
Im like David, but not a letterman, made by a seasoned veteran,
Now im back, on this earth, re-living sin,
Dont let my soul, garnish within,
The worlds public toxication,
Im just waiting,
Sitting at the knights table,
Middle fingers to the labels,
Cut off the cables,
My brother's like Cain to able,
When will we, break the curse,
Goods is dry, begging thirst,
Blood hungry,
So many leechers amongst me,
Dug the roots of liberty,
Nobody, no longer free,
Taxed by the faces, of the unknown see,
Toe to toe, like the R &R,
Oil fields,
Up the moral, so you dont feel,
The stretching, over society quielty,
I smoke a stogie like Humphrey,
Let the dutchie,
Talk to my reality, new age locality,
White folks, aint white folks,
If you know the history,
A whiter version of niggadry,
Black vs white duality,
Equate the numbers youll see,
Three digits plus eight,
Equate more hate to create,
A corner of chaos, look how they,
Flip the coin toss,
With moving the coin, poker face, society straight, leatheface,
Spiritually you see, the calmness of the seas, better Believe,
The dragons watching,
Just waitin, to be unchained,
Locked behind the doors, of seven seals, peep the seven hills,
Have eyes, know the movie real,
Biblical folks, saying it aint real,
If it ain't, then why so,
Many get killed, for the smalls spillz,
Leaking over the soils, spoils of war, on the verge of a gore,
If you see moon, and the sun, at the same time,
Its mixed of dualities, of gods holy divine, tingles through ya spine,
Radiation modules,
Skins cells, splittin to align,
The melanin, that's been studied millenniums done, over time,

— The End —