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 Mar 2018 xy
Jeff Gaines
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
 Mar 2018 xy
Eric the Red
Was raised by women
Mother
Grandmother
3 Sisters
Like being raised
By wolves
Protective
Safe

I’ve come to find
Going & Growing
Through life
That just being near a
Woman
Recharges the soul
&
Regives life

Respect
 Mar 2018 xy
Lawrence Hall
These hours are not The Age of Trump, oh, no
Nor yet the age of McDonald’s arches
Turned upside down like pendant parts spilt from
The four-color process of a ******* mag

All time is God’s, and as a gift to you
May be employed in work and play as you
Think best in gratitude for all the light
That falls upon your acts, your arts, your loves

Whatever else, this is an age of you
In quest for the good, the beautiful, and
                                                        the true
 Mar 2018 xy
luci
this intoxicating drink
is absurdly disgusting

yet tastes better
than watching you love her

so i rather sip on
this vision-blurring liquor,
in order to be unable
to look in the mirror
and realize

my eyes
will never shine like hers

my lips
will never kiss you as good

my body
will never feel as warm
as when you hold her

and my smile
will never be a smile

because i won't smile
as long as i watch you love her
this is such a cliché poem but it's what i feel
 Mar 2018 xy
Sadly Kida
Black honey
 Mar 2018 xy
Sadly Kida
It's as if you
knew i was made
of glass
And smashed
me into a thousand
pieces

Like black honey
smothering me
with your dark
sweetness

Just a taste
would make me numb
Throat tightening
and head hungry
for your tongue

Swimming in a timeless
void
Drowning on
false hope

Come save me
with your twisted
stories
 Mar 2018 xy
CA Smith
A Poem
 Mar 2018 xy
CA Smith
Is it words?
Is it rhythm?
Is it emotion?

Thoughts just jumbled onto a page,
in hopes that they match some literary device?

Structure.
Or imagery.
Parallel
                          ....lines?
Outside of
                                  ....the box?

But what's a box besides,
                                        What we make it?

Why can't we take
                our perspective,
                shift it    
                          ,
                                around
                                            And change it?
Write poems for,
                          a
                              new (or even all of them)
                                  generation(s)?

They don't have to rhyme.
Or make sense.
Or even be legible.
As long as it helps you, isn't that enough?

"But others read them too"

But they don't always.
Some poems I write on my worst days.
They're
            bad.
They don't,
                  rhyme.
My handwriting is.........
                                      crap.

The words aren't
                          even eloquent.
Putting
            them (my thoughts that is)
                          down to paper helps
                                    me  though.  (or is that too selfish)

But what
                is a
                          poem (a real one)
anyhow?

I guess I'll never, really, know.
 Mar 2018 xy
CA Smith
"The tallest poplar I'll grow to be,"
said the young tree.

"Standing above the rest,
I'll be crowned the best.
Fortified and grown,
the forest will be mine to rule alone."

Ripped from the roots,
and cut down by a man in boots,
the dreams quickly faded.
"There's not much to make of me now"
Thought the tree,
whose complexion quickly changed
from wide-eyed to jaded.

Hauled onto a truck  
Off he went.
To the lumberyard,
the young tree was sent.

Chopped to pieces,
stripped of his bark.
Our young poplar was afraid his life,
would never leave a mark.

"Some wooden crates they'll make of me"
"The peaks of the other trees I'll never see"

"I'm useless, I'm broken"
"In the forest my name will never be spoken"

The story doesn't end though,
it's only just begun.
For the life of this tree,
is one that's not yet done.

The lumber was chopped, cut, and carried.
To a town of a man named Jack,
who was poor but newly married.

"I've got little money, but I make good shoes"
"I've got to take care of my wife, I've nothing left to lose"

"I'll open a store, and become a cobbler"
"And with the money I make, I'll buy my family something proper."

So Jack took his life savings.
And off he went, to open a store,
To make enough money to pay the rent.

Our poplar was still together,
chopped into many pieces.
Next to some hardware supplies,
and a vendor selling fleeces.

"I'll take that lumber, it'll do the job."
"Just take my money, and I'll be along"

Years passed by as Jack labored hard.
A few kids came along, a house, and a fenced in yard.

One day a special man came to town.
Not the type of man that you see every day,
for this man wore a royal crown.

"Wooden clogs I need for my feet"
"To keep them dry as I walk along the damp street"

A chance to make shoes for a king,
this was enough to make Jack sing.

He looked through his supplies,
they weren't enough.
To build shoes fit for a king,
would be quite tough.

"I have just the wood, "
he thought to himself.
"From when I first built my shop,
there is some left on the top shelf.

So he took the remaining scraps,
and he made new shoes.
Shoes for royalty,
clogs fit for a man more special than me.

And now our poplar finally got his chance.
To join in the royal dance.
And on the king's feet he stays.
Helping him rule the land for the rest of his days.

So, if you find yourself cut down before you grow.
Just remember, and make sure you know.
Your chance will come, sooner or later.
To become a part of something greater.
 Mar 2018 xy
CA Smith
A bird.....or a place.
Maybe a thought,
perhaps a memory?

I could choose one.

Something important to me,
and express it through poetry.

Piece by piece, line after line.
Each one a thought of mine.

What to write about?
In this time of writer's drought?

If it wrote about what I feel,
would my poem become "too real?"

If I wrote about you,
would that be just a cliche too?

But cliches are the best,
if you let them be so.
I'll throw away thoughts of the rest.
It's my feelings I want you to know.

I'll write about a girl,
new to my world,
that sets my thoughts ablaze.

Brand new adventures await,
new memories galore,
and many a place to explore.

I don't really know,
what sets you aglow.

Or when you're down,
how to cheer you up.

But I've got my poems;
that seems to be enough.

Some lines rhyme.
Others not as well.
Still you never mind.  

My thoughts are poems.
My feelings I've got to show them.

So this poem was written for you.
I hope you like it, and don't mind it.
Because I want you to like me too.
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