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Fenix Flight Jun 2014
I shake my head at you
Your eagerness is charming
Your willingness overpowering

You're much to eager
to jump in this world
Like a child cannon balling
into the Pool
creating ripples
whereever he goes

Your much to willinging
to participate
but you must walk
before you can run
so you don't trip and fall  

Don't stumble on these words
that float easily to your head
Take a breath
Stand back for a few
and reevaluate

simplicity is a good thing
to much can ruin

don't think me scolding
don't think me cruel
I'm just tryng to help you
one writer
too another.
I wrote this to a fellow poet who had just started writing
and thought he knew EVERYTHING about writing
he was leaving cruel and unhelpful comments on other writters works.
(not on this website dont worry)
She stands before the bathroom mirror
Creating several different faces
Tryng to find the one that doesn’t
Make her look so tired and old.

Some of them make her look ill
A couple more look silly.
The one she finally settles on:
A wan and disappointed smile -

Accepted as least ugly of the bunch
It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear
In this the Autumn of her life.
She expected some small trace
Of former beauty to remain.

She tried to make a little sparkle
To liven up her somber eyes
And find the muscle in her cheek
That lifts her lips into a grin.

A sorry rictus of despair
Was all that effort brought her
So she gave up and threw the switch
And slipped away in darkness
ljm
I remember seeing my mother standing in front of the mirror trying different ways of smiling and holding her face.;She wasn't happy about growing older. Hey...neither am I.
It begins with a thought a glimpse of the past slowly transcending into a ride. I begin to realize that I'm loosing ahold of reality like the ripples in water from a drop of time falling down upon its suttle nature. I'm looking up at the stars as if there's a message for me or a beautiful escape to distract myself from the coughs and the clouds burning inside of me that I create with the lungs I treat so cruely night after night. Breath after breath the clouds surrond me as if to enclose myself in a place without fear or Worry, without pain or sorrow. These grey clouds whisper in my ear explaining how things work and filling me with questions. I count down starting from three and with each blink I descend deeper and deeper to only be brought up higher. I blink hard, I'm looking down upon a  child who's seen so much, who's felt too much, who's going through so much hes tryng to cry to wash away and let go of his pain but all his tears have already been spent long ago. So he inhales the grey clouds and with each breath he takes his eyes begin to wonder, his mind is rather occupied by the memories, overflowing and drowning all at once. I blink a second time, The clock strikes midnight, time takes its toll and with each second I'm falling back to where it all began, I try to claw my way back up but the clouds have disappeared no longer there to float me back up to the gates of heaven. I feel a hole in my stomach as I lick my lips, I realize the music has ceased to move in me so I remove the technology from my ears and begin to listen to the hunger in my stomach instead, forevermore growing stronger and heavier, a hunger that strikes me like lightning whenever i get a hint of its aroma in the crisp and cold air, an aroma that reminds me of what it was like to taste heaven and forget about all the people that have died, all the beatings I've endurerd. A little boy still trapped inside of a growing mans body.  The feeling to be separated from the part of him that's still scared stirs in his heart like an ocean filled by tears and years. I blink again, time speeds back up my thoughts cease to crowd me I realize and visualize what it was like so see the stars move contemplating and waiting impatiently until the grey clouds return .
Andi Oct 2014
I only wrote your ending
Because.
It.
TEARS.
Me.
To.
SHREDS.
To think about your beginning.
I BECAME ACCUSTOMED TO YOU RIDING YOUR
OLD, BANGED UP BIKE ALONG THE STREET TO SEE ME EVERY MORNING AT 7:15 BECAUSE YOU WERE ALWAYS APPROXIMATELY 10 MINUTES LATE.
I WAS SO ******* HAPPY ALL THOSE DAYS WHEN WE SAT IN THE SLIVER OF SHADE TRYNG SO HARD TO STEAL JUST A TINY BIT OF PEACE!
I WAS HAPPIER THAT DAY YOU GAVE ME A BANDAID AND TOLD ME IT WOULD ******* BE OKAY WHEN WE BOTH KNEW MY WORLD WAS CRUMBLING AROUND ME.
and I never even told you a thing.
BUT YOU KNEW YOU ALWAYS KNEW!
YOU WERE ALWAYS A STEP AHEAD OF ME!
always knew me a little bit better than everyone else that I loved.
But thats the secret.
I took you for granted then.
I NEVER DID THAT AGAIN.
I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN MORE CONTENT THAN THE DAY MY HAIR WAS YELLOW AND I WAS A BOTTLE OF SUNSHINE AND
Y O U  WERE THE FROWN THAT POISONED MY PICTURE OF PERFECTION
and yet you smiled
you smiled for ME
you knew I was ******* happy and you smiled for me.
EVEN THOUGH YOU FELT LIKE ****
YOU  SMILED FOR ME
Y O U
SMILED
FOR
M E
Just to keep me happy.
and I loved you for that.
I love you for that.
I.
LOVED.
The way
YOU.
ALWAYS!
SMILED TO ME
I NEVER!
EVEN!
LEARNED
that you,
YOU OF ALL PEOPLE
had
a dark side until it
kissed me goodbye
on that late july day.
YOU WAVED ME GOODBYE
and I ******* COLLAPSED IN UTTER SHOCK.
because I never thought you would let her go
I NEVER THOUGHT YOU
YOU!
you would let ME go...
thinking about you makes
me cry sometimes
AND. I. HATE.  IT.
because for you, and for you alone
I
was
ALWAYS
strong.
YOU.
ONLY YOU.
taught
ME
to smile
and YOU
made ME
feel like
a bottle of sunshine
instead of a
rainy day in a glass

a thought of you is like an arrow,
it flies high but it hurts when it sinks in.
for an old friend.
jeffrey robin Nov 2014
(         o       )
( (   ////  • |  ) )
( ( (          <>        ) ) )
( ( ( (                            ) ) ) )
/\

/\

#######

the trail leads thru the woods

high ahead are the sacred mountains

will we live ?

I guess so

••

we've heard of a healing Fountain there

///

we are young  

we are tryng to be good

( we know we must be free )



The trail is one of memories

Of ancient myths and subtle dreams

/::/

I am glad you're by my side

I might of not come otherwise

///

the trail thru the woods

Dressed in green leaves woven fine

We

Shall live  free unless we die

But we are together

So we are not afraid
Jerry Howarth Oct 2021
This is not a poem, this is a story of a an 83 yr old man, that
got away with lying aboat his actual age, so he could box,
for the light weight Dallas County Iowa, championship.

"Howath is the name and these are my two knock out fists, Gerald
and Ron, and I'm here to sign up for the light heavy weight championship boxing title of Dallas County."

That was my official registration to the County boxing Commisson.
They of course ask me my age and some other questions related to
my boxing experience, to which I lied very convincingly.

By the way, the way to lie convincinly is to literally believe yourself what you are lying about. I had spent hours telling myself the lies I told the Boxing Commission, so they had no doubt about what I told them about my boxing experience. I even had some fake newspaper articles about my boxing experiences that I printed on my home printing press. I'll tell more about this later in this story.

What motivated me o do this, was the current chjampion was the
Grandson of one of my high school class mates that I detested, because h was such a proud blow hard, about every athletical thing
he did, from being a baseball pitcher, a running back football player,
a wrestler and on and on he bragged about himself. One time when
I could not somach his bragging and pompous ay he walked, I confonted him to his face, actually his chin, as that was as close to
his face I stood. He was aout 6' 4'' and I was slightly over 6'. I looked him in the eyes and told him I and every one else in school was sick
and tired of his bragging about himself.

He then sneared a me, reached down and gabbed me by the coller of my shirt, and said. "Why you little dumb pimpsqueet, you aint nothing but a hog raising farm boy!" and shoved me hard against
the hall way wall, so I smacked the back of  my head against it, and
knocked out for a few minutes, long enough for someone dumping a cup full of water on my face to bring me alert. Then ol blow hard
spread it around that I had attemped to hit him and he "just naturally" defended himself and gave me a little shove.

But back to the main part of this story, I had been working out in the city gym, workig on my cardio, thats my breathing. I had been keeping up with my physical condition all of my life, so for an 83 yr old man  I am in good physical shape. I have been punching the heavy bag on daily basis , and have had someone bouncing a heavy medicine ball on my stomach five minutes every day, so I have  those three muscle stand outs on my stomach, tht every body ooos and aaas about.

I also sparred with young boys around 20 and 30 years old, convincing them I was just 28, by my foot work and bobbing and weaving and left hand jabs. I still had a good head of hair, which I
had dyed a light black, which also convinced the boxing commission that I was 38, actually the year I was bornd, 1938

My boxing bout with the young grandson of this high school class mate that I detested, was suppoe to be just a warm up match for him, in preperation for a title fight. He was the Dallas County Light Heavy Weight champion defending his title against some unbeaten
opponant. My goal was to knock him out, and disqualify his title fight.

Oh yes, I neglected to mention my boxing manager, who was a young 62 year old retired boxer. He didn't grow up in
Dallas County, Iowa,  so he had no idea of my bckground age. He came from New York or New something.  I had him convinced that I was just 38 yrs old also. I grew up in a small town called Clive about 60 miles from Des Moines, were the fight was scheduld. Clive was a town with a population of around 2500 when I lived there. Most of the people who knew me are living under ground,
or in a old folks home, so the secret of my age will not be revealed.
,
This grandson of the school mate I detested, is just like his Dad, a smart mouth, bragging, pompous, cocky strutton show boat. He has no idea who I am, but has already started boasting about what he is going to do t me.

"Hey, I'm only 27 yrs old and this old man I'm fighting is 38 yrs old. Somebody will have to help him through the ropes to get in the ring." "What's an old man like him still thinks he is a boxer?

"He ought to be sitting on his back porch, watching the rabbits and squirrels hop around."

"He claims  to be 38 yrs old, I'll knock him out in 38 seconds in round 3."
   ,
He came to the gym when I was working out one morning to scout me out; I put on an act of being slow and winded.

He yelled at me from a few feet away, "Hey old man, my kid sister
has a faster jab then you. You sure you want to fight me?"

My manager walked up to him, and gave him a double arm shove
out the door, so hard he stumbled. "You big mouth punk, crawl
back in the skunk hole you came from."

                           The Big Fight

I was in the ring first, and was warming up wih litle dance steps I had had learned in a dance studio, which I intended to use on him, BTW  his name was Virgil Thornley, but he took pride in calling himself, "V T"=Very Tuff.

He was taking his time coming to get nto the ring,  and when he did decide to enter, he did so with a bunch of short skirted cheer leading girls dancing to loud music being played. When he approched the ring, two of the girls, squatted down on one knee and VT than made a big show of standing on each of their leg, and pushed himself off, tumbling over the ropes onto the ring apron.
amid 40,000 loud cheering fans.

"Enjoy it while you can VT, becaus in about 15 minutes, five three minute rounds, yu're gonna have 40,000 stunned fans looking at you, sprawled half way under the ring ropes, watchng the referee
waving the fight over."
                                ROUND ONE
JT came quickly to the center of the ring with a stupid looking
grin on is face, hands down, swinging back and forth at his waist level.

I took a couple steps towad him, then through him a big surprize,
that stopped him in his tracks. I did a little two step tap dance, and in the few seconds it took him to recover from surprize, I took a quick step toward him and shot out a left jab, purposly hitting
his right eye. Over my years of boxing experience, I developed a
fast twist at the end of the jab. This little twist would tear the skin
producing a cut in the eyebrow, which it did to VT. I don't think he had ever bee cut before by the way he wiped his eye, leaving his face unprotected, of which I took advantage, and smacked him with
another quick jab on his nose, drawing another spurt of blood.

VT wasn't expexcting such an early barrage of attack, and strted back peddling. Once again, I put on my little tap dance,
to a 40,00 applauding, whistling crowd of men, women and teen agers. By now ol VT had no idea what to do with me. He took a quick look over at his corner for help. And when he did I took a big step foward and planed to quick left jabs on each of his eyes.

I heard the fight annoncer telling the radio listners, he had never seen such a show boating boxer like  Howarth is putting
on. He has VT totally confused, not knowing what to do with
him. He came in to this fight as a warm up for his upcoming defensive championship fight with Scrapiron Peel and he is being bloodied and cut up, by what in the boxing sport is considered old, a man close to his 40's but is moving like a 25 or 26 year old. Folks I don't recall Howarth in any past fights, but uh, hang on a moment Howarth is moving around VT, bobbing, weaving and talking to him, I can't quite read his lips, but someting about going down in uh, some round. Meanwhile VT continues to back peddle away from Howath, who is trying to cut him off....Oh! now Howarth stops chasing him and motioned with his hands to come in and fight. There's the bell ending this third round.

There is some kind of commotion going on behind me.... some one wants to tell me something, but is being detained by the police.
Hey officers, let him talk to me. Folks, this is the crasiest night I have ever experienced, let's see what this old man, I'm serious about Old, He mst be  "Uh how old are you, sir?"

"I'm just a couple years younger than Howarth. We  grew up together in Perry, Iowa. I'm 81 years old and that old man in the ring, he was known as "Howie" is 83 years old and...."

"Hold on just jack rabbit minute! Are you telling me, that Howarth,
  what did you call him? Howie, that boxer in the ring,  beating VT, the current light weight Dallas County champion, is 83 years old? Is that what you are saying?"

"Yep, dats whot Im sayng.We growed up t'gether, in da same school t'gether, wrestled and boxed t'gether, and I'm 81 years old and he was alays 2 yars older'n me, so I knows he is 83 yars old.

Folks., getting back to the igh, VT is circuling to his right to get in position to throw is left hook and then is righ overhand knock ut puncht . I think Howie is aware of what VT is trying and keeps circing to his left.


This is the  the round Howarth bragged he would KO VT. VT is coming out in his usual swagering way, Howarth had him intimiated in the first four rounds, with his little dancing jig and blooding his nose and eye. VT wasn't use to that kind of pressure, but his corner manager and some others that joined him, gave him a little pep talk, and so he has regained his cofidence. As usual Howarth, trys his little tap dance aa he approaches VT, it's gotten a little much and no one is cheering it.

I failed to ask you, old man, your name"

"I was known as Scrapieon in Perry, my real ame isRichard Peel.
Yo said dis is da round Howie is going to lower da boom on this young feller?"

"Well that's what he told the fight reporters in the news paper. But frankly, I have doubts that he can do it. Thus far all I've seen from your friend is  a few left jabs. He hasn't used his right in the entire fight."

"Well you just keep your eyes on his right; what yor going to see is a flurry of left jabs, ad out of nowhere his right and will suddenly show up and that will be the end of the fight."

Well folks there is just three minites left i thos round, if Howie is going to KO VT, he is ging tp alf to get more agressie than, oh,Howie just connected with a double left jab, and another one and he had VT weak leggedfromma barrage of jabs. He looks like he is about to go down OH WOW Howie hit him with a straight right hand punch right between his eyes and VT is on the canvas, tryng too ge up, the count is up to 5, 6,7 VT was up at the cnt of 8 bt collapst. The referee is waving the figt over, and tne Dallas County  light heavy weight champion has been kocked out by Howie Howarth in the 5th round just as he predicted.
ROUND oxing epeiec
She stands before the bathroom mirror
Creating several different faces
Tryng to find the one that doesn’t
Make her look so tired and old.

Some of them make her look ill
A couple more look silly.
The one she finally settles on:
A wan and disappointed smile -

Accepted as least ugly of the bunch
It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear
In this the Autumn of her life.
She expected some small trace
Of former beauty to remain.

She tried to make a little sparkle
To liven up her somber eyes
And find the muscle in her cheek
That lifts her lips into a grin.

A sorry rictus of despair
Was all that effort brought her
So she gave up and threw the switch
And slipped away in darkness
ljm
I remember seeing my mother standing in front of the mirror trying different ways of smiling and holding her face.  She wasn't happy about growing older.  Hey...neither am I.

— The End —