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Hir a thoddaid |
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x x x x x x x x x a x x x x x x x x x a x x x x x x x x x a x x x x x x x x x a x x x x x x b x x x x x x x b x x x a Tenth Canadian Pome Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh? Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh? Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh? Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh? Ten silly bulls with rhyme internal be Another nine makes fifty nine eh? Gloria Carpenter |
Hir a thoddaid |
Allura DWe walk the paces that these days require, Precariously balanced on strung wire. The smiles we wear branding us the liar As eyes dart from the path of our desire. An endless road lies wandering and dull, Pierced by mewling cries,void of fire. -----
Time Yields |
Kathy AndersonNo clear thoughts to welcome nor gaily bid The darkness of the night shined in moonlit grid Through sentinal oak trees and starlit id My psyche wanders wan, unuplifted. Long does the heart stray, cliche swayed on wind Within her dark arced arms raiment, she quids. back to list |
Deborah BelWithin the heart, to spur our soul to sing, comes a wistful plea, an urgent longing. So softly in the silent air it rings clear, distinct, a migration of feeling. But will we answer this inner demand which tingles sense, stirred by our life spring? It comes upon us in a sudden way, while piper stands high on the hill and plays a song to wrench our spirit from it's ways of loving -- while expecting to be paid. One keen moment in an unrivaled kiss Opens up the eyes, with lover's blade. And the question is not, when it will be, But whether, will we hear that urgent plea? Will we have grown enough to truly see The importance of this life giving ease? Soft hues fill my night as backwards I go To travel the tracks of memory... -----
Snow Ruby |
Gloria CarpenterLet us speak of the shore and waves that cried as they separate, collapsing inside in scrolls of secret script on parchment, hide, unrolling furls of flourishes, divide, and leave behind a waxen kiss, unsealed. In tearful melt, messages subside. Perhaps this cycle has been misconstrued; quite possibly this phase should be reviewed. Such talk of farewell grief is darkest brood; assumptions, often wrongly may conclude. To what may we attribute thoughts as these? Does not our attitude decide mood? Let us speak of the shore and waves that ride together as a pair, connections tied, elapsing time in gentleness, they glide, or spend their passion, joyfully collide in zephyr breeze or surging winds of storm ~ As one, they merge, Luna as their guide. -----
Phil O'Phil
I'll bee back
The Sting aka Vespula vulgari
Wild Outbursts |
CollumcilleI dabble and gamble, spread myself thin: Avoiding hard labor, riding the wind; Fortunate poet and fair musician, I'm lucky I know, I've learned to listen. Since God has no power over my time, A rhyme an hour I would christen. But I would that I would not be too much Of a burden to listeners as such; Attempting to master a Welshman's touch With words I may yet limp home on a crutch. Happy, I embellish in my own tongue, Songs that in Welsh would make me say "Ouch!" back to list |
Gaer LlwydDinner train waits at Hyannis station; night's frivolity: its destination. Passengers boarding with due elation, photographs taken amid jubilation. Culinary staff staid in their duties. Crew on the train shares dedication. Karen Drake pulls throttle: brave engineer; comes forth on the rails without any fear, There's nothing about her that's cavalier. Safe passage of train, she will persevere. Among all the legends you see her stand tall: This railroad's best; peak of her career The conductor, your scribe, watch in his hand counting the time down like hourglass sand passengers arriving: his train's in demand their elegant evening: he understands afternoon is waning: dinnertime looms. Trains never leave late; he's in command. Old locomotive, the engineer's pride. Conductor waves high ball, moment's arrived. Double horn blasts and the throttle's applied Passengers settle for elegant ride Fireman begins reviewing train orders Down the main line through the rail yards they glide Duty is honor to Skip the fireman, calling the crossings is his battle plan he'll make some couplings wherever he can showing some age, but he's like Peter Pan as tracks roll beneath him, settles to seat rocks with rails’ rhythm, orders in hand Beyond the yard limits, the train is outbound The conductor begins making his rounds Tracks aren't quite even and rocking abounds Waitstaff starts serving, their balance astounds Chef serves up chowder, over the jostling Train headlights come on as red sun goes down Great Barnstable saltmarsh, salads at twilight Horn wails all the crossings, summoning night Drake is alert through the big engine's flight Waitstaff pours wine; conversations ignite Music is playing, designed to set ease On down the main line, spirits incite. Talk in the tavern, they know that it's coming The beer is flowing, jukebox is drumming Through conversation, idea is humming In their pockets for pennies they're fumbling Twenty-ish sailors who find youth's desires Miles down main line, steel horse comes rumbling Conductor regales dining compartments Train horn sounds crossings, the line of defense Entrée is ready, the servings commence orders restrict speed: good common sense She's hoping to win, once more against fate Sailors at crossing, put down their cents Network of grade crossings: thirty or more Fraught with dangers, Karen’s been there before Cars dart through signals, her memories roar Disastrous images lead her to hold Unerring caution deep in her core At Sandwich, passing Dewey, Skip makes the call “Lights good at Liberty,” station and all Jarves Street, Willow Street fly like wind squalls Refill the glasses as each milepost falls Mill Creek, rails curving, now moving toward Sagamore siding; events will forestall Conductor chatting, comes sound through the car Multiple horn blasts warn those near and far Vacate the rails, whether person or car Trumpets again, same cacophonous jar Breaks off conversation, heads to the front Wants some answers: this isn’t quite par Train brakes come on as he’s striding along He looks through the window: something’s gone wrong He listens for sounds, the stop seems prolonged Shortwave comes on, like the sound of a gong "Engineer to conductor, I’m getting off to talk to someone!" time grows long. Steps into the trap, opens the window Looks out and down at the scene there below Away from the train backs a car (not slow!) Karen shakes her finger - see her bellow Then back on the diesel, back to her post Leaving young men with truths they should know Back at the enginehouse, all decompress Engineer chatters, relieving her stress What they were doing was anyone’s guess putting down pennies - could have been a mess these days it could have been some kind of bomb train was coming at them: stupid excess! They said that the train was shaking the track Knocking the pennies - they kept putting back In middle of gauge - it’s there they’ll get whacked! Their car was too close and could have been smacked They answered like Coast Guard: "Yes, Ma’m; yes, Ma’m!" Good decision was most that they lacked! Lights burned late in the enginehouse that night Emotions contained now out in plain sight The crewmembers know to chew it out right No mental cobwebs to turn into blight Two sailors now know railroads’ Safety First Engines and train crews roll on toward the light. back to list |
Ryter RoethicleMy Love! Let me bring you warmth to your day Allow me to take your hand, if I may Late winters cold north winds will have their way Starving to the bone those who disobey Let me wrap you in my arms and warm you And be free from any harm this way. Let me take you to some beautiful place Where we can disappear without a trace Making love until all of time’s erased. Losing ourselves in passions embraces. We will journey in dreams of endless skies Floating through streams of vap’rous space. -----
Winter Mood |
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