Truth has a luster in my mind, And truth is best when well-defined; But shouting tongues may ambuscade Truth, hiding it in obscure shade.

January, 1740
black slaves in Charleston plan to revolt, some cotton planters there are much harangued; without due process, injustice gets jolt its noose tight knotted; fifty blacks be hanged

whistling wind whining voice worrisome breeze reforming prairie sand bothering trees thou bringest leave to my fair weather friend summer is over but love does not end

1740
Florida forts on the river, San Juan Oglethorpe takes with his tribal truce pawn; civilian settlement, St. Augustine, turns back fierce killing force hostile and lean.

soft ears coat shine liquid pup sleeps the morning hours up creaking door puts her on pins alert now her torso spins

1740
Naturalization takes seven years; Citizenship act in Parliament clears. One colony's member belongs to all; How else to expedite boundary brawl?

the hands of beauty envelop my mind with mother's soft sunglow smile, warming kind joy in the dear newborn sun's shining love watersong melody wafting above

earth round
declivitous sand rolling down to sea magnificent land rising from the lea majestical mount ruling o'er the plain innocuous fount evading high reign deciduous ash punctuating spruce xeriscapel stash riding fall's caboose salubrious herb bringing faunal health androgynous herd learning panther stealth miraculous gleam springing from a source circuitous stream quencing all in course declivitous sand rolling down to sea magnificent land rising from the lea

quiet meditation in loving heart working gossamer thread on linen start displaying bravura with gentle goal disclosing contemplative thoughtful soul

There's a place in France Where the women wear no pants And the men go around picking-up rocks off the ground.

I hate to talk about your mother, She's a good ol' soul She's got a buckskin belly and a rubber asshole The nipples on her tits are as big as my balls But the stench from her pussy would make a dead man crawl

anyone here have a comment on the new poet laureate of the USA appointed last month?
his name is Stanley Kunitz.
he was born in 1905. He is 95 yrs of age!
a poet laureate who is 95 years old! this must make the guiness book of records.
he was "interviewed" on the PBS Newshour program tonight.
p.s. i do not think he would appreciate some of the "poems" on this thread. 0:(

the stars from the porch
there once lived a wise man taught by world war whose granddaughter, young and unlearned, thus far would sit at his feet and hang on his word his musical voice was all that she heard
he told her of fam'ly, loyalty, love he told her of rightness and God above but mostly he led her to reach with mind she found him to be the tolerant kind
she listened well to his five-octave song to cast off burden and do no one wrong her best mem'ry of him was not of wars but his rev'rence of God's luminous stars
he pointed to each one, quoting its name, telling its story and what gave it fame she thought him merry, a fountain of truth later she blessed him for guiding her youth
she then did not know all ends at a length; but looking back on his care gave her strength may we be lit with our grandfather's torch like as the star names we learned on the porch

1740
Famine in Ireland caused immigration Exiting Europe became sensation New Jersey Belgian glassblowers brought o'er Commerce and class to America's shore.
England gave Georgia good growth deal makers; Land charters grew to two thousand acres. Massachusetts colony's new land loans: Sterling for promises, bad for the bones!

o delicate bud when red petal crush't in dying as life thy love's fragrance rush't into his hand whose senses perfume rose to kiss the tyrant who would thee dispose!

Going for visit, MIL's 80th bd. Back Sept 14.
Won't some of ye quip a little rime?
It takes a moment but is worth the time.

Angry red and shiny tight...
The pus filled blister festers, bright. You squeeze and poke with all your might, But still the zit lives through the night.

through the cool of night, through the warmth of day Dominique was left at the vet's to stay white is her short coat, spotted with black paint happy and trusting but she's never faint! simple and cheerful as true friend can be forever making assignments carefree she takes face wrinkles and smoothes them down she makes a smiley face out of a frown think I will keep her providing that she continues loving to come home to me

serpentine waterway trapezoid field rounded horizon hazily revealed too many smokestacks pumping out potions o'er all the lands and above the oceans
someone should stop up the spewers of fumes the fallout that comes from poisonous plumes descending to ending the earth we know making mutant genes in all life below
watching meandering twists in the stream floating above them in silvery dream reading a paper decrying a leak of sewer water gone into a creek
spreading a virus to innocent fish killing their numbers; o how that i wish that we'd be careful of our friends with scales or we will make them extinct with the whales
more cities growing with each passing day more angry folks yelling "out of my way!" kindness and caring, the best religion cannot restore the passenger pigeon
landing on runway and back to the earth those smokestacks brought an idea to birth one must take energy-conscious measures to save earth and her numerous treasures

paper pieces
books on the shelves remind ourselves we have access to world success
and on the wall we have it all a photograph depicting laugh
of past times when one might have been immortal one in the mind spun
how all that ceases as paper pieces
falling apart replace the heart as though they should be all that would
make one a man or make a fan folded in lines the world defines
its boundary land of the free what made it so where did it go
to paper pieces it never ceases
and yearly count looks like a mount upon the desk in piles of stress
what does it show numbers below the bottom line does it define
a person's worth a living birth or honesty is freedom free
of bully boy or girl like toy one may not know does mankind grow
'midst paper pieces

...and by the way, happy birthday some time this week? to hoeker, eek! he said he'd be hitting fifty
:)
older than dirt

---Temporal Reprieve--- Time is but an arrow, pointing to the future, but I might - Yes, if I may - I'll aim Time's arrow backwards in the eve, And then when morning's reached reversely, switch it right, And let it tick all long the day, 'til once again it's night, Then re-reverse it once again, and in this way deceive - Yes - earn myself a permanently temporary temporal reprieve.

1741
New Hampshire its own governor by crown Is granted by English royals reknown Pennsylvania, Moravians get When Georgia loses their settlement bet.

svelte evening sky, rainbow colored with star cheerfully twinkling through deep purple's cloak o'er the valley sombre pastels stretch far blended beauteously by great master's stroke dusk's breathtaking majesty, above earth sensate spirit, enchanted with eye's mirth

1742
Founder James Wilson was born to sign hence The Declaration of Independence And the United States Constitution; Supreme Court Justice his contribution.

Poor little darling, lying in bed, In comes that SWAT Team, now you're dead. Killed in the name of Trony's war, Brought to you by Bush and Gore.

I contemplate the fate of man
While I sit here grunting on the can
When all are gone, none left to see
Won't really matter that I can hardly pee
The fossilized remains all packed with dirt
A story untold how much that hurt
To pass a stone the size of a rock
Through that little tube in the end of my cock

(Honky tonk piano & wah-wah trumpet background)
Words by A. Hamilton
Now you say you lonely You cry the whole night through
Well, you can cry me a river, Cry me a river, I cried a river over you.
Now you say you're sorry For bein' so untrue
An' you can cry me a river, Cry me a river, I cried a river over you.
You drove me mad and drove me out of my head, While you never shed a tear. Remember, I remember all that you said, 'Tole me love was true for me an... 'Tole me you was..you an'..me an... Now you say you loved me Well, juss ta prove ya do
Go on an... Cry me a River, Cry me a River, I cried a river over you.
snif, snif, snif

Yup...
Compassionate conservatism in all of it's glory.

Hoeker doesn't rhyme or reason At this time or any season Takes a gut shot now and then Looks & smells like Rin-Tin-Tin.

Trony's wit is non-extant, Bon mot? Repartee? Nope, she can't. She brings naught but triteness squared. Truly a case of "creatively impaired".

of course hoeker never errs</sarcasm> goading others with his spurs in his dank and smoky den snaggle-toothed and poison pen.

Like I said...

ah, but tis the season droll
where often looked by young and old
within deep regions of the mind
to seek that something left behind
like fallen snow or solid rain
a thought awash and down the drain
"copyr. 2000, edrie blackwelder"

Oh, edrianne. Your verse is breathtaking!!! (taking deeeeeeep breath.) Truly beautiful!
And: Thanks to the Pathfinder staff for fixing the header that had my error of spacing in it until today. Beautiful!
in memory of my mother (missin' you on your 75th, mom.)
blue eyes' gleam twitter red hair and passion beauty's frail glitter dear, ageless fashion kinder than any such was my mother she had friends many gave me my brother she gave my dear dad his raison d'etre no wonder he had many a fair day.

Nice stuff, Natrona & Edrie!

Thank you, ex-glen, so kind of you to say. I think I know you have just made my day!

1743
Thomas Jefferson
Thomas Jefferson was born to compose The Declaration of Independence. 'Twas his will crown's tyranny to depose Giving us self-rule, no interference.
Further he proclaimed equal rights for all: No favor by birth, wealth or status tall. Third President, a Republican he Made government serve Americans free.

>Third President, a Republican he>>
TJ was a demmie, Natrona. This is why the democrats have Jefferson/Jackson dinners.

Since this is supposed to be a PFZ, here goes...
Darkness lies in the heart, An abandoned country of despair, The killing cold of winter's frost, The deadly fragrance of midnight air.
And yet, the light, beautiful, pure, Lies in all these places too; As simple as the cosmos, As complex as the morning dew.
These places are within us all, Although we may not think it true, And no matter how we may deny it, There is nothing we can do.
For we are human, made of darkness, Like the blackest shadows of night, And we are human, made of brightness, Like the sun's blazing light.

Cold Sores
From a beginning as pustules of yellow and rose,
they soon carpet your lips and envelope your nose.
Ooozing and fenestrating, they burn, itch and smart,
and wait to be transferred to the next body part..

Abcessed Molar
First the pressure, like the weight of a train.
Then white-hot agony that sears through your brain.
Infection run rampant every barrier crosses.
Fit punishment for he who neither brushes nor flosses.

Chronic Warts
One day your skin is so shiny and smooth.
The next, it is covered with wee fleshy buttes.
Neither burning nor cutting will separate them from you.
Your only recourse is to use Compound W.

My Renal Asteroid Belt
(With a nod to bbart for inspiration in #27...)
Slowly they circle in my nephral region
carooming off vessels, leaving small leisons.
waiting only for a reduction in my hydration,
to drain through the outlet and begin laceration.
Here is one now, I can sense that it's coming
through the small tender tubes, lancing and plumbing.
Oh my, but it pains!! And I can't call it back.
It seems to be the type that is shaped like a jack..
arrrrrrrugh~~!

#39
"TJ was a Demmie"
CedarRun, if you think so, please contact the curator at the Monticello museum! They have erroneously been telling people in his biography this statement:
"In 1796, as the presidential candidate of the Republicans, he became vice-president after losing to John Adams by 3 electoral votes."
Again, as in my post #38 at 6:23, that address is :
http://www.monticello.org/resources/people/biography.html
I know you will want them to correct their ages-old mistake and fill in your revelation at their website.

1742
Spaniards raid peaceful Georgian villages War with England, excuse for pillages
1743
Oglethorpe retaliates with attack On Spaniards for getting them off his back He taught them lesson near St. Augustine Bloodiest foray that they'd ever seen.

HOW DO YOU GET THE RETURN TO WORK!!!
[I see Pyrothius has same problem as I do!]
Thanks, Natrona, it's nice to meet others that think in pentameter!!
If I can dig out some of my good stuff, I'll run it by yall - am getting ready to publish some in the next 6 months - want to fill in some wholes. Would prefer not to have ALL dark stuff!
Enjoying the thread - even the bodily functions prose is amusing (if not disgusting!!)
Way to go, Py!! Poet after mine own heart!
Homage to your mom is beautiful, Natrona!

edrieanne, good morning.
Again, I have webtv, but after a line put < br > sans spaces for a return.
Hope it works for you if not, hit the "help" button above, and there are some pointers there for people with computers on htmls.
Thanks.

Oh, also--for two spaces, do the (br)(br) thingy replacing < for the ( and > for the ).

there once was a shrubya named bush who bungled 'bout "major league" tush he only won texas went home in his lexus right after the people helped push

there once was a goober named "dick" who none really wanted as pick big money, big oil a festering boil in fact you could say he's a prick

Natrona, thanks, I'll try it.
Rocket, it's nice to know the limerick is alive and well in 2000! !lol!

Alafaya (on the death of a foal) and Martin
Tiny hooves in winged flight Dancing softly through the night Far above the earth you're bounding Way beyond the clouds surrounding
All the universe you see Gentle one, now running free Would that I with you could be Would you could come back to me
"copr. 1988, edrie blackwelder"

Thanks, Natrona, it works!!

Edrieanne, to get the © symbol on my keyboard, hit & hold "alt" and hit "g". I wonder if alt works on your computer too? If so, problem solved!
And, BTW, precious, your foal one ©1988.
:)

she was - only graced the barn for 3 1/2 months - but left an impact on all who knew her! Thanks, I'll try the keystroke, too.
Nite until tomorrow (or later tonite!)

"In 1796, as the presidential candidate of the Republicans, he became vice-president after losing to John Adams by 3 electoral votes.">>
Natrona: You might want to consider reinforcing your understanding of political party names with a little perspective on the history of the parties. Regardless of his stature as a futuristic thinker, it would have been difficult for Jefferson to run in 1800 or 1804 on the ticket on a party that would not be created until 1854, as was the current GOP.
>http://www.historyguy.com/party_histories.html>>
Now, please stop violating the "politics free zone" spirit of this thread...
Cold Sores Redux
In a little hidey-hole at the base of my spine,
lives Herpes the virus, destroyer divine.
Most of the time its a coward, it's face it won't show,
it always waits till my resistance is low.
With angry red blotches, my mouth it does pepper,
till I'm shunned by all like a infectious leper.
It stings and it burns and makes us unsightly,
till it succumbs to the Blistex that I apply nightly..

My heart is shattered My soul is tattered My body is battered On the rocks of hate
My heart is gifted My soul is lifted Because through the sands I sifted On the shores of love.
copyright 2000 Floyd L. Tullis II

Pyrothius, good quote. But your own #40 is brilliant. Thank you for sharing.

o innocent sky free from cloudy frown in thy depth is peerless robin's egg blue horizons are lighter than eiderdown thy bold radiance in temperament true
clear, cool patience in dream wafting above the song of thy soul touch many down here and sharing invincible winds of love with aesthetics of thy sweet atmosphere

Natrona, number 59 is mine as well...

Gingivitis (I Remember Apples...)
I am now at the age where my gums are receding,
This would not trouble me so, if they'd only stop bleeding.
My roots are exposed, great white shining spikes,
It will soon be my lot to forever gum and not bite.

Fungal Infection of the Toenail
As I put my shoes on to go to the store,
I noticed my big toe was swollen and sore.
Green oozing fluids from the edge of the nail,
I looked on in horror, I trembled, grew pale.
To the podiatrist I ran, limping and grim,
in desperate fear I might lose a limb.
Anesthesized was I, through unconciousness' vale,
and awoke to find out I had but lost my nail.

Rhino-Specific Polyps
I can't breathe!! I lamented, all fearful and froze
There is some sort of something blocking my nose!
I tried Sinex and Vicks, euclalypus drops too.
In my desperate attempts to help air to get through.
Gasping and gulping, to the doctor I flee.
"My node is nawt wooking, you must hep me pweeze!!"
He removed 14 polyps, with skill and precision.
And several large gnats I must have inhaled when last fishing.
I feel better now...

#62 Pyrothius.
Wow! 59 is yours? It sounds so whole and professional, I was certain it was a quote.
I still liked the earlier one a little bit better, though. <g>
First Aid Kit
bandaids, fungicide, alcohol, peroxide, bandaids, tape, clean gauze, First Aid Book, Safety Laws,
mouth wash, cough drop, antiseptic itch-stop, cotton balls, caladryl, repellent, pain pill,
matchbox, creme for throat, universal antidote, unguentine, snake bite kit, sunburn cream, splints that fit,
shock blanket, tourniquet, (goodness, we're not finished yet!), aspirin, antacid (that will make ya real placid),
tylenol, hand soap, wash cloth, tying rope, CPR, Mouth-to-Mouth: So our owies will go south!

I'm currently trying to hammer out a contract to have my poems (150 of them, to be exact) published. And those two I have written here were spur-of-the-moment writings; I post something I have really worked out later.

Wow, Pyrothius! Hope ya make a mint on your poems! e me the publisher info when it's ready, would you? I'd love a copy!
books
books stacked on every wall makes my house home I like to take one with me when I roam through someone else's eyes perspective gets a size naught's better than imagination's tome.

You'll here about it, Natrona. Believe me...
The autumn wind is blowing Lightly through your hair As you walk through the fields Full of fragrant air.
A harsh winter's wind blows Through a broken man's dreams I am lost in the darkness Of the damned, it seems.
But when together, you and I Prevail at every turn, And sit together in the night And watch a new flame burn.
For my wife copyright 2000 Floyd L. Tullis II

#69 Pyrothius
Wow! Lucky Mrs. Tullis! If that is a sample, I have a whole book of love poems by known authors, and not one single one of them is that good.
I think I'm gonna faint!
:)

meanwhile, back in Dodge...
1744
France and Spain sign Compact against the Brits; War in colonies escalates to fits. Iroquois treaty, (Ohio to give) The colonists more land on which to live.
Collegium Musicum, Bethlehem, Symphony orchestra for all of them Gives rise to musicians and composers The people were happy; no more dozers!

I search for words but my mind is blank If I had an engine I'd turn the crank Try as I may to my distress The words won't come; I need some rest If only my thinking would produce something sound I could put it into words the next time around All I get is a lot of shit No one cares whether I am lit The drugs I consume give rise to thought It was I who said they should be bought Now the words just roll from fingertips As I pound this keyboard it comes to grips With the idea that only I can know The chosen ones still have to grow Their little minds and shriveled dicks All of those fat assed chicks The brain dead comments so proudly spouted The thoughtless process so highly touted Were they to pay for what they spout Their bankrupt souls would no longer shout A whimper heard from beneath a rock Another turd has ran out the clock When you are no more and left to rot

1745
Louisbourg is taken by Pepperell Thus St. Lawrence River is controlled well From Albany to Maine, the French fight back With many a New York and Maine attack
Montesquieu's Spirit of the Law is read In the Boston Gazette, where they are led To understand checks and balances good If government is doing what it should
Twenty-two New World newspapers exist People there illiteracy resist Franciscan fathers record history Of men in the Texas territory.

love, be the light of my life when the world turns away, keep me from strife keep me in tenderness' sway when people hate, keep their darkness away
love, be my hope and my heart when I awake, come and be my day's start love, be in me the soft word to cheer another who sorrow has heard
love, be the note in my soul that will bring music to make someone whole sharing the song in my breast sweetening someone to bring out their best
love, be the swift in my feet taking me far from the haters I meet place me in love's caring arms that defends us from all this old world's harms
love, be the touch in my mind teaching me how every act to be kind sharing the love that is here giving me strength that abolishes fear
love, be my way, love, be my heart, love, be my light, from now on!

1746
English Parliament establishes line Massachusetts, Rhode Island to define In Savannah, Georgia, carpenter's strike Their pay is not exactly to their like.

Goodygal2, You'll make it through!
ItÕs not in the landing When flying, IÕm told. But rather the memory To share when weÕre old
It isnÕt perfection Or every mistake But the life that weÕre living The risks that we take
And some reach much farther And look to the sky And fail much more often As More did they try
But watching them fall Is the hardest you see But letting them try Is just setting them free
For greatness of spirit Comes easy for some And others keep trying Until the jobÕs done
And lessons we learn As we pass down this way Is learning to love While still giving away
To stumble and fall And then rise up again Until somewhere inside They will find you, my friend
That throughout it all Your love still remained While letting their spirits Live free and unchained
It isnÕt mistakes that we make That all count But lessons we learn In the total amount
Of living and laughing And sharing our tears Of lives fully lived Thoughout all our years
May God, Allah, the Great Spirit and ALL bless you!

Edrieanne--
Beautiful words which I feel deep inside, They made me smile even while I cried
Polly

Polly
your words so touched my heart felt pain your tears you shared and so we gain
dear friend, we see your heart held close far greater pain much more than most
these trials you bear for love of two the gift of life so wondrous, true
yet not unscathed you trod this way love without limits bids your heart stay
For two are blessed the best of bad worlds for solid support when reality swirls
but knowing that anchor is bound up with love and watched ov'r all by the spirit above
bless you and trust in powers stronger than mere mortals - patience and love - may they be your safe harbor.
(check profile and e-me for telephone # if you like)

It's coming nigh on two> this board is gonna die It will not let me post No matter how I try
So data it must test I know it's gotta crash and dump out all the rest of junkposts in a flash
So quickly I will hit my little enter key and see if this thing dies or take this post from me!!
11:58 Pacific Coast Time

It's coming nigh on two this board is gonna die It will not let me post No matter how I try
So data it must test for junkposts in a flash and dump out all the rest I know it's gotta crash
So quickly I will hit my little enter key and see if this thing dies or take this post from me!!
11:58 Pacific Coast Time

Polly, it's so good to see you again, and bless Edrieanne for her lovely words of comfort.
I have 2 kids, both now in their 30s. Both were in the intellectually gifted category, especially the younger. When the eldest decided he would outdo kid #2, he began working his heiney off in school & became both salutatorian of his graduating class of 600 in '86. Whereupon kid #2 decided to be the opposite but landed in the top 10 anyway. The problems were (1) Up yours, anyone in authority, (2) How far may the rules be pushed to drive parents, the authorities, etc, to drivel, and (3) If it's there and not supposed to be done, do it, and if anyone cares, #(1)....
Heeheehee. Kid #2 is now a cop and deals every day with kids#2. Kid #1 pitched all his intellectual accomplishments out the door his second year into his Phd program and got religion. He's a bible thumpin' Baptist, and he pities his dum ol' stolid Presbyterian family, without realizing our love for God is real, just not out on our sleeves as is his more obvious religion.
Anyway, our kid #2 reminds me of your two, and was enough to help me respect anyone with a kid who tried everything there is to try out there.
Later on, you just have to remember the cute little rounded hand that placed a clover blossom on your lap with big, round, loving eyes, and whose chest swelled up when you put a blue ribbon on the world's weirdest art on the refrigerator door, biting lower lip and wondering if yer fake smile is honest or sacrilege.
I'm just grateful for the privilege of having had both of them, in spite of the fact I felt like the least qualified parent ever put on this planet to handle 2 bubbleheads, one with a photographic memory, and one with true clinical animal magnetism.

writer's block mind lock tick-tock may as well play some rock.

{Tapping and on podium: Aaaaannnd, a ONE and a TWO and a ONE and a TWO.........]

Just trying to find the start of my day won't somebody please throw some coffee my way
my nites are short but the day's too long just wonderin' the heck where do I belong
Hey make it strong and make it black hand me that pillow and cut me some slack
for my body is achin' as my head falls back somebody hand me that liquid jack!
to raise my bones up outta this bed can somebody tell me if I'm livin' or dead!!
COFFEE!! COFFEE! coffee I need COFFEE!! COFFEE! It's nature's "speed"
Oh guess I'll give in and jump start the day won't SOMEBODY PLEASE send some coffee my way!!
"copr. 2000: edrie blackwelder

WORKIN' MAN'S[WOMAN'S] RAP! Pt. II
One cuppa, two cuppa, three cups, MORE better brew it stronger 'fore this face hits floor
eleven hours, twelve hours almost done when the clock strikes eight then I'm gonna RUN
out through the parkin' lot into the truck if I don't cut it fast then I'm gonna get stuck
with another site, another shift I know I ain't free 'cuz my danged ol' boss is a lookin' for me!
yo, we're shorthanded and I know you want thuh cash so here's the address can you make it there fast
So brew me the coffee and send me on my way I'm up and I'm headin' in to work another day!!

"copr. 2000: edrie blackwelder"

The frustration of a New York Mets fan
Is watching them play as only they can
Atop the NL East they strive
To push Atlanta to one side
Those pesky Braves have all the pitching
Maddux s cool leave most batters twitching
Tom Glavine s heat is rising and swift
Mike Piazza s stance will slowly shift
Then Derek Bell will have to pound
The ball straight at the lofted mound
While Alfonzo stretches out a double
And Leighter keeps them out of trouble
And when they re done, begins the test
When the season ends and they both head west
To San Francisco and Saint Lou
Where they play on, while the others are through

GO METS!!! Nite all, until 10pm west coast time!!

Kewl, Peter. I hope you send that to your esteemed team! Betcha it'd make their day!
the trial in contest for excellent team to know luck uncertain; practice, supreme it takes grueling work in sporting games proficiency wins, while indolence blames

THE ROSE
Today looks, smells, and feels just like it did nine years ago. I know, because this date nine years ago is etched into my brain forever. Every detail of it is recorded. I know how the leaves looked, turning color for autumn. I know how soft the air felt. I know the sky was blue and cloudless then, as it is today.
Just before 1:00 today I walk along the short path, then down a half-dozen stairs, to a particular bench on the ship canal, the bench on which Jim sat when he shot himself. Each year for the last nine years I've sat on that bench, on that spot, at 1:00, which is when he pulled the trigger. Today, however, four men are sitting there having what appears to be a deep conversation. I am momentarily taken aback, but take the bench to the right of the stairway hoping they'll leave. They don't.
I watch the ducks take off from, and land on, the water. I watch a couple of tug boats moving through the canal, headed for Puget Sound. I try to connect with Jim there, as I've done in of previous years. I can't.
At one minute before one, I walk over to where the four men are sitting, apologize for intruding, and say I just want to stand there, at the rail facing the water, my back to them, for a couple of minutes. They nod, then continue their conversation. I try again to connect with Jim and again I can't. I turn, nod to the men, and leave.
I drive to the south end of Lake Union and park at the Center for Wooden Boats, amazed to find my choice of parking slots in this usually crowded lot. I walk down the path to the long pier, carrying one perfect long-stemmed red rose, my annual offering to Jim's memory. I walk nearly to the end, then take the last ramp down to one of the finger piers that rest on the water. I walk to the end of the finger pier, looking down into the water at the place we scattered Jim's ashes. The water laps against the pier and the boats on either side of the pier.
Each year for the past nine years I've done exactly this. Each year, as today, I take in deeply the fragrance of the rose, give the rose a kiss, and toss it into the water. Because weather such as this is produced by a high pressure area, winds are out of the north and tend to blow the rose back under the boats, despite my encouragement to the rose to float north, out into the lake. Today the winds are calm; I send the rose on its way and it floats out. I am pleased, until I remember that I've always whispered "I love you" to Jim as I've kissed the rose and didn't do so today. I wonder how I could forget to say that to him today.
I watch, and the rose continues to float out into the lake. I go back up the ramp to the main pier which is higher, and continue to watch the rose make its slow ride on the water toward the middle of the lake. The sun sparkles and shimmers on the water, making the little waves appear to dance. I am about to leave when the rose turns from its position sideways to me and shows me its full face. In the few minutes it has been in the water, it has changed from being fairly tight to far more open. It shows itself to me openly, petals perfectly coiled and swirled. The red is a beautiful contrast with the blue water and the golden sparkles of sun.
A sailboat has passed, and now its slight wake reaches the rose. The rose turns sideways again as it takes the bounce, still heading for the middle of the lake. I watch a few minutes more as it bobs on the wake, happy to see the wake is not pushing it back toward shore. It bobs as each new pulse reaches it but holds its place. Goodbye, I think, and turn to leave. I'm surprised as I realize I've shed no tears through any portion of this ritual.
I wonder whether I will need to do this again next year, or if I've finally appeased the grief gods.
RSW 09/25/00

Ms.Robbie, you just added a fragrance to the spirit of every person here, as with the wise and enriching touch of one who with strength, has helped others conquer pain.
@->--->--
Thanks for making us all richer.

Touching, Ms R. Every Sept. 15th, I take a swim in my pool no matter how cold the water. Even when it's raining. Just my way of saying, "I miss you with all my heart."

Edrieanne and Natrona --
Thank you both for your comforting, sweet words of encouragement. I am a little put out with myself for putting such personal thoughts "out there", particularly when they have such a self-pitying flavor. Thanks for the understanding.
Robbie,
What a beautiful description of the permanent ache left to the living after suicide. Although I can't come up with proper wording to express my admiration for your strength (and your ability to describe the ongoing emptiness), my heart goes out to you, and I hope the grief gods are appeased. May only good things come your way between now and next September 25.

I had to de-lurk just long enough to thank Robbie for sharing her moments of the day so beautifully.
Longfellow once said, "Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak."
I hope that the telling of your story serves to diminish your pain.
And now, back to lurk mode. For now... *smile*

MsRobbie,
no greater tribute can be given than to share the memories of your love. May your heart remember the joy while the pain subsides. The beauty of ritual is when it is no longer "necessary" then its meaning is incorporated into your heart. The fragrance and meaning of the rose has become part of your spirit. Next year, you may be amazed to find that this day has slipped in among the others, quietly, to allow you to move on. May you find peace in knowing that Jim has. Bless you.
Goodygal2,
please don't feel that you were wrong to cry out in your difficult time. Self pity and selflessness are two entirely different states of being. Yours is the later. You travel a road that few can even BEGIN to imagine. Few can understand. You have my deepest admiration and respect. Yours is not an easy road, either!

Edrieanne--
Thanks again. I surely don't deserve admiration and respect, but I will soak it up and use it to keep trying, anyway! The road isn't always easy, but it's not always as bad as my little tirade would have one believe, either. I think I keep forgetting that things DO always get better. Thank you for your encouragement!

So glad to be joined by Polly, edrieanne, ex-glencarr, whatsupchuck, and other "lurkers"
danke schoene

Polly you deserve all the admiration & respect given you. You're one of the nicest people to post here!

Natrona, Glencarr, GoodyGal, Whatsupchuck, Edrieanne... thank you all so much for your sweet words. And thank you for providing me a place in which I felt safe enough to write that piece. Your responses mean a lot to me.

Beautiful prose, Robbie, macushlah...
Your mention of appeasing the grief gods reminded me of this passage from Byron's poignant "We'll go no more a-roving":
For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.
Time to let your heart pause to breathe, and your love have its rest...*hug*

I've laid in a healthy supply of booze.
The Mets and Braves are on television.
The boyz from Flushing must refuse to lose
Or else they'll blow the f*cking division!

Five games to play and then no more
The Mets need win but one
To clinch the Wild Card and move along
Or join the Phillys of '64

Degenerate man, who hath earned disdain No wonder she disregardeth thy pain Amusement, hers, surely, no holy oath Sole in thy thought, so voidless as be loath Little she dread, for she is sure at ease No pity thee, if thou deservest tease Thy sorrow dread reprieve she thinketh right For it endure with all Gibralter's might!

Mets win!
They're in!

Here I sit, broken hearted...

Hoeker,
...Finish, please, what you've started...

#103, was my playful response to poem of yesteryear by Sir Thomas Wyatt:
Behold, Love, Thy Power
Behold, Love, thy power how she despiseth! My great pain how little she regardeth! ...The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure, ...Broken she hath; and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease and little she dreadeth. Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth; To the disdainful her life she leadeth, ...To me spiteful without cause or measure, ......Behold, Love.
I am in hold: if pity thee moveth, Go bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh, ...And with some stroke revenge the displeasure ...Of thee and him, that sorrow doth endure, And, as his lord, the lowly entreateth. ......Behold, Love.
365 LOVE POEMS, Compiled by John Gabriel Hunt, p. 201, © 1993 by Outlet Book Co., Inc, Barnes & Noble, New York
Poor, Hoeker, what is the matter with you today?

Yeats, I think (memory went a long time ago):
"Wine comes in at the mouth,
Love comes in at the eye,
That's all we'll know for truth,
Before we grow old and die."

...I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.
http://www.bartleby.com/147/42.html
:)

the gentleness borne of wisdom is recommended way the kindness that from discipline should guide us every day.
what earthly thing distracts mankind from doing honest deed? boastful, untoward ambition false to the truth is greed
gentle wisdom from above, pure eludes our earthly sight peace that passes understanding will make our actions right.
Based on James 3:13-17, THE NEW OXFORD ANNOTATED BIBLE, 1991, Oxford University Press, Inc., 200 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016.

yesterday
extended work an hour more to help people who need the key turns gently, locking door when finished, ev'ry deed
the sun is lower in the west than quitting time at five and umbral forms at its behest somehow are long but live
for autumn leaves of gold are blast on skateboards of the wind pestering passing shadows cast by sunset at day's end.
the magic image followed me reverbing in my soul such cheerful, happy reverie fall leaves that twist and roll
and hitting pillow with a smile, my daily service done enchantment's dreams danced for a while till rose, the wak'ning sun

the wailing, whirling, and invasive winds, on pretty autumn's invitation list scouring the rounded foothills' scrubby floor relentless searching of ill-fated tryst
happy times of falltime's warm dividend blowing certifies her luckless end devious lover whipping imbricate sands into sigils negating love's demands

footprints
his footprints are dear to me that loveth good and kind I touch to make them near to me; waves wash them from my mind

aurora borealis
Wierd streams of light not evening sun shining from site though source were none
the grey and blue dark cloud meringue striations flew austerely lang
and just as fast as they were here they fade at last and disappear

bounding white puppy cheerful anticipation four big polka dots

snow clouds upon the mountain with freezer status wind stop ye the crystal fountain lest it next spring need mend
behind, be left the jejune, the chilling and the cold for I shall fly away soon for leaves of red and gold
away, o lonesome prairie away, o howling gale I do not long to tarry in winter's heinous bale

Wither baseball on Tuesday night?
The debate held all networks in its hand.
No tube could show the Yankee s plight;
T was an ugly civics lesson plan

Boston traffic could be finer Though I would not be a whiner Pay two bucks to see this sight: Eight lanes became two last night!

in Boston there was no baked bean there was no pie of Boston creme nor was a lobster in a pot so why we went has been forgot
in Salem, palm readers have rooms and witches tell of many dooms for twenty souls were hanged or burnt for sins uncertain, sins that weren't
New England's fall should be her glory but her brick halls hold freedom's story and on her cemeteries' stones are heroes praised above their bones

words fail to praise the autumn sky that arcs above the race John digitized natural gifts in pixeled cyberspace

on vacation, in a slump it is now time for a bump

Just for you , Natrona
Count the bodies the kooks all said....That Clinton is a killing
They jumped right in and lies they spread ...Like Swine that were a swilling
They even said his mom had killed....When she worked as a nurse
And Billy Boy has kept it up....And made it even worse
Now their eyes did light and teeth did nash....As they thought of ways to hurt
But though they worked so long and hard....He stayed above the dirt
They fumed and fussed and screamed unfair ....That he was loved by most
And when the lection smoke had cleared....Their candidate was toast
They hung their heads and cried out loud....And shook away the tears
Cuz then they realized he had won....And they d suffer four more years
But hope eternal blinds the truth....And lends men s hopes to soar
And now the lies they tell themselves....That Bush will defeat Gore
That Americans will turn their backs?.They ll choose a weak willed son
Of a man from whom they walked away?.And said his work was done
But America s day is not complete?.A world leader it still will be
They'll help the folks who are in need....and clean the land and sea
So they ll choose to go on forward?.with Al Gore a holt the reins
For he has courage, looks and style?.To go with all his brains

Bromodrosis
What is this odor that I sense, it's nature putrid-sweet?
Oh my, I now realize its coming from my feet...
Between the toes, within the socks, encased in musty shoe
Lives a smelly, oozing reservoir of gummy residue.

Scat
I once had a dog named Scat.
Ever chance I got, I sicced him on the cat.

Dallas-Fort Worth Eyes
You say that you are looking at me, but how can I know its true?
When one of your eyes faces longitude 84 W and the other 82?
I love you still. I always will. Your way, your smile, your mirth.
With your one eye fixed on Dallas. And the other on Fort-Worth.

Deviated Septum
Nose of mine.
As our fortune carries us together down the line.
Of all the things I wish for and all I might be hopin'
Above all, I wish you didn't have just one barrell open..

Lightnin'
We had an old coon dog named Lightnin'
Long gone were his days of scrappin' and fightin'
No more treein' and bawling with a bark and a woof
Just spends most of his time sleeping on top of his coop.

Cedar Run...
With your one eye fixed on Dallas. And the other on Fort-Worth.
Homer and Jethro, right?

>Homer and Jethro, right?>>
Wow.. If it is, I didn't know about it. I first heard the phrase Dallas-Fort Worth eyes back in the 70's. I took it and made my own little poem..
It does sound like them though, come to think of it.
I loved Homer and Jethro.

The yeller rose of Texas, She's the cutest on this earth. Her right eye looks at Dallas, Her left one at Ft. Worth.
Chorus:
Her skin is red and fuzzy, And looks just like a peach. I looked her over from head to toe, And she had one of each.

out of the abyss a mass of emotion orders air currents and those of the ocean maestro of music makes melodies many rising and falling with rhythm aplenty not known to conscious as only the simple may access force of whose world is his temple truth, chastised severely as haughtily foes chain virtue to crosses as prime of life goes squandered on creatures surreptitious of soul whose wantage has such a corporeal goal birds warble their thanks to our God in the air reproving arrogancy's obvious glare

1747
South Carolina exports indigo For English cloth of blue calico
have to run, finish this some other time... *sigh*

yea in affliction, pain, trial, and woe power and strength through the intellect flow the weary, the downtrodden and the faint encumbered by cares and suffering's taint shall soar on eagle's wing with renewal shall be revered as a precious jewel
Based on Isiah 40:29-31, The New Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV, New York, Oxford U Press, p 919, 1977.

Sometimes I set the evil one free. Because Im in love with the devil, and she's in love with me. And I go, and I go away.

The blue sea laps up The tasteless blood of heroes, The bright yellow sun burns down And eases some of our sorrows.
Senseless violence, undue haste, Have laid many a family to waste And darkest deeds of evil hate Deliver our loved ones to Heaven's gate
Trivial matters, unseen hands, Have colored the waters red; But in living in light and in goodness Do we truly remember our dead.
In memory of our fallen aboard the USS Cole.

In darkness is the perfect truth, For all eyes are blind. In light, there is absolute truth That darkness leaves behind.
And so, I walk in shadow and in light, The sun and the moon light my way. And I make it through the night To another imperfect day.

Pyrothius, the beauty of your expressions ...
second to none.
Thanks for your generosity in sharing.

Thank you.

Wings of despair flap in the night As haunted dreams come forth in the Child And a cold wind blows with full might In the forest wild.
Wings of hope flutter bravely As the Boy awakes to find That he has been mistaken, gravely; The world has not left him behind.
Wings of love beat strongly As the Man looks to his wife, Feeling that she has rightly, not wrongly, Given him a much fuller life.
Wings of death twitter sleepily As the Elder sits and prays, Knowing that he has, rather creepily, Seen the end of his days.
Wings of grace stroke the air As the Ancient breathes his last And swoop from Heaven, to take him where He shall find his peace at last.

to Pyrothius
take heart, o friend, for the morass of troubled waters sure will pass and in its place the goodly face of comfort for thy wisdom's class
:)

there is comfort from the shunning by the blindness of hate's cunning for a glimpse, a ray of radiant, cheering light
for fear's constant confrontations sets it into undulations and consoling charm arrives from goodness' might
if I could return a favor it would be in favorite flavor of the person who adheres to what is right.

OCD
I've turned all the nickles Monticello side up.
I have to, else all the handles will fall off my cups.
I've just washed my hands, scrubbing hard at the skin.
In four and one half minutes, I will do it again.
There are germs everywhere, I know that there are.
On the doorknob, the mailbox, inside of the car.
In the vegetable soup my sister is cooking.
They're hiding and lurking. They think I'm not looking.
The only way I know to ward off all disease,
is to face SSW, stand on my toes and count to sixty six by threes.
I don't expect you'll agree, let alone understand.
Say, is there a sink somewhere close by? I must wash my hands..

My Moustache Is Alive (Haiku)
Wiry curling hairs
Reach up inside of my nose
I wish they'd stop it

Arithmetic Dog
My Dad's cousin Floyd was the first one who saw
that our old beagle Snort had a thorn in his paw.
We held him down and used tweezers, it was painlessly done.
Now he now longer goes 'round picking up three and carrying the one..

Rooting Out The Fonk
I had a mastoidectomy, and after stitches were applied.
It left a narrow crease behind my ear where fonk can easily hide.
So, every night before I sleep, before I go to bed.
I pull my ear way forward and scrub back there till it's red.

1746
English Parliament was led to define Massachusetts-Rhode Island bound'ry line. Savannah carpenters go on a strike For better conditions and a wage hike.

1747
New Jersey's Presbyterian classes Teach conservatism to the masses. College of New Jersey is now begun; Eventually they move it to Princeton.
South Carolina exports indigo; England needs the dye for blue textile show. New York Bar Association gets start; They lead the effort in the Stamp Act thwart.

Rose are red Shoes are brown Gore will win And Bush will frown

1748
English Parliament hastens to levy Indigo tax with a hand so heavy King George's War ends with Aix-la-Chapelle Restoring the colonies e'er so well.
Traders Thomas Cresap and Hugh Parker Reach Ohio country's bound'ry marker Draper's Meadow was found for to reside First whites west of Allegheny Divide.

The leftist camp Should never fret Their spins have left them Desperate. Perma-Grave
"...hippie-green-druggy- granola-woodstoch-hairy-incense loser..." - Magorskorkowskeevay

You'd compromise your principles, Over hate for the man from Hope. To remedy the malady You'd have us elect a dope.
Gore for Four!

Now Hoeker--
My guy is a heavy hitter Your guy's 'bout to be a quitter. So why the fuss? Why the twitter? Your Gore's already A well-done fritter! Shurma Blaze

Hard Choices
Clinton's going away soon
News that makes me swoon
Not all thrilled with Bush
but he beats Gore's mush...

Whence wax and wane the ghosts of town? Who haunt the hillsides up and down? They close the street That slippered feet Wouldst safely fill a pumpkin's crown.

Time is wastin', Hop in car! Still the coffee's In the jar.

Arioso amethyst symphony Somber composition of summer past Portamento, purple Persephone! Roundelay echo minstrel mountain hast.

Your mama is so big and fat that she can get busy/with twenty-three burritos/but times are rough/I saw her in the back of Taco Bell with handcuffs----The Pharcyde

marine prayer
navy water of retrospection's hue when stabilized refracts reflection true break not the spirit but heal sincere soul comfort the kindly against harsh patrol

one needn't crown with jewels nor gold a store to buy but practice truthful teachings to hold one's head up high

unameter
dance! sing! prance! ring! chance! bring! France! fling!

A prayer for the nation
We thank thee Lord for friend and foe Who votes his heart that voting show A tally of the people's mind: May he that wins thy mercies bind.
May little child nurtured in home Be loyal to thy holy tome That teaches fairness in the land Which from the first, was in thy hand.
May this millenia always be Prosperous in its liberty No matter what morrows revolve The problems of the world to solve.
Give ye to them of little trust A mind of faith, which is a must Deemed by the founding fathers past For freedom to forever last.

A prayer...
Please god. Make Trony stop praying at me.
Amen

vive verset of votary vatic beneath the pale moon up in the attic sly vulpine pack, so vestigial of past, howl the sage sayings and long shadows cast not ever knowing what meanings they say baying the gilt orb till the break of day where is the holy one who wrote the scripts? lost in the humor that fox pack encrypts

one more thread sewn in a square such that corners meet square to square sewn into one cov'ring infant head to feet
one more block of half-squares made flying geese join the parade colors pleasing every one make for others warmth with fun!

evening shades of black and cerulean hover on horizon's frozen foothills nature's unspeakably hostile duty that summer's infestation winter kills how would the clean air ever be fresher if from the compass' vertex no cool bles't earth in its season, time of aurora borealis watching o'er the cold fest

The hour is late and it is time To fluff the pillows and quit this rhyme.
g'nite, all.

angry masses, vote miscounts what is that which truth discounts? wait a minute, wait a week Flor'da's poll is such a freak

1749
New Hampshire Governor Benning Wentworth Grants land for Bennington, Vermont's town birth The only trouble with this selfish quork Is found that same land is claimed by New York.

1749
Two hundred thousand acres, Ohio, Granted to Ohio Company for New settlement of English immigrants With fort to guard them at the frontier's door.

the mighty fires that slash and burn consume the heart and make it turn against the hateful, swearing mind who seeks out ev'ry loving kind

Definitely an improvement over the history lessons...
Glad that I could inspire you to excellence.

In Michigan are many loons, Personages of many tunes And now, all I would ask of thee, Of all you coulda picked, why me?

Your mindless rants upon arrival, Gave me reason to conclude, You had no substance to contribute, And so the merriment ensued.
'Twas such good sport to burst your bubbles Pouring rain on your parade. It soon became so clear to me, Your intellect was a charade.

Haiku for an Ingrown Toenail
Curls hard in a circle
Cutting cuticle so deep
Red hot agony

Haiku for an Impacted Wisdom Tooth
Skull splitting pain bolts
Infected near bursting point
Think I might throw up

Mr. Hoeker.
And what of your dense cerebellum? Is it composed of weedy vellum? Pretensing genius when a fool? For oft you follow shouting's rule.
It also seems that you can spell. Though you refuse to argue well. You're way too quick to persecute With inappropriate refute.
You often rant lines too abusive, Which come across as gauche, obtrusive. How you religion miscontrue, When state believer describes you!
I saw you say some time ago (As though the ladies needed know) At any rate, I saw you swear That 'neath your kilt's no underwear!
So, naughty boy, you cannot hide The fact that you have too much pride. But I admit, at least in half, You do give other folks a laugh.

1749
Ohio company, granted charter From King George Second's generous larder They get five hundred thousand acres more Along upper Ohio River's shore.

1749
Solid English territorial aim In Nova Scotia's new settlement claim Twentyfive hundred colonists think facts, Entrust their lives to Brit, Lord Halifax.

1749
Colony of Virginia grants a test Eight hundred thousand acres to the west To settlement by Loyal Company A challenge to tame wild territory.

1749
Philadelphia is the chosen town To start theatrical group of renown Actors Walter Murray and Thomas Kean Did entertain their friends in word and scene. Their first was the Elizabethan play, Richard the Third. It lit New England's way.

1749
The English Parliament to Georgia gave Revocation of ban to own a slave; Imparting misery to fellow man, They forgot why they first set up the ban. Oh, greed, thy evil clutches blind weak man And cause him dead man's walk in his soul's span.

1749 - (University of Pennsylvania's origin)
In Philadelphia, twenty-four men Formed an academy knowledge to win. Ben Franklin's pamphlet suggested this school; They taught charity and the golden rule.

1749
Ohio Land French thought Brits were poaching Their territory with much encroaching; De Bienville erected signs them to warn That the land was French, stay out you foreign!

1749
Alas, it was a year of sun and draught It turned New Englander's lives inside out; They had little water, could not grow hay They had to import it from far away.

*barf*

1750
For liberal cov'nant, he gave no hoot, So Jonathan Edwards received the boot! He left Northampton Church's ministry For the frontier's Stockbridge, home of the free!

*what flop-eared puppy says*

Sail Dog
Our dog, ran out of luck
Jumped the fence, got smished by a truck
Three days in the sun, all dried out and pale
Flick him backhanded, see how he sails...

Kiss The Shovel..
Winter day, minus 20 I swear
Little Willy, took us up on our dare
Put your lips on this shovel, we said with a smirk
Go ahead, do it. What could it hurt?
The next twelve hours, Willy sat with a candle
gently warming the metal, as he clung to the handle
His lips were welded to the icy cold metal
We sat and we giggled, what a half witted fellow!

A Poem, by Orville Perch (Age 9)
I throwed a spider in the air
It came down in my Sister's hair
She screamed and ran and told our Mom
I'll fix her, next time a bomb..

Haiku For Ear Hair
When I was twenty
I had none of this damn stuff
Now it's everywhere

Eye Fonk Limerick
The fonk in the corner of my eyes
Gets all crusty as soon as it dries
It falls from my face
Gets all over the place
Looks like little slivers of overcooked french fries

Now that's poetry...
Bodily fluids, and biological function. The stuff of life.

Yeah, Snake Snot, that's you, Mr. H.

1750
British Parliament passes their Iron Act So complacency could remain intact. They banned colonial mills making steel For our country's progress they had no feel; Rolling and sheeting mills, without a doubt, Any competition would be put out! Of course, in the deal there was just one fly; They'd take all the raw iron in our supply. Train us and pain us and vainly drain us They from profit sure meant to restrain us. Taking and breaking and not giving back No representation, except for flack. No wonder our patience was pushed too far, Leading to revolutionary war.

Thank You Hoeker for the inspiration to continue.
And so I shall...
Hangnails
I guess it's indiputable
That I have ripped my cuticle
Hanging chads of painful skin
Bleed, come loose and make me wince

My New Wart (haiku)
Rising like a butte
Disfiguring my nice nose
The next ugly wart.

Cyanoacrylate Tragedy
It really is regrettable
My cat thought it was edible
Its teeth now welded tight and true
It ate a tube of super glue.
Poor cat..

Cerumen
It grows in my ears all sticky and tacky
And itches and drips and just drives me wacky
It pops and it gurgles and causes distress
I must get a q-tip and clean out this mess

The Carbon-Dated Squirrel (Hold Your Nose and Hand Me That Shovel..)
Its been dead now for ages, for so very long.
Been through rigor mortis, gassification, swelled to bursting and beyond.
Wee chunks of ripe flesh and islands of fur
Now mark this place where a squirrel once were.

1750
Conestoga wagons first appearing In Pennsylvania fullness nearing; Newlyweds leave as the land is taken With hearts of hope and a will unshaken! Off to Ohio, New Hampshire, Vermont, Kentucky, Maine, or wherever they want! A new life's awaited; they went full-tilt, Conestogas loaded, and mama's quilt!

Tracing circles in the pool Of emesis on the floor. The peurile pap has made me wretch From sick-sweet poetic bore. Affectation rules the day; The art is not extant. The lame attempt to educate Comes off as a vapid rant.

That's beautiful, Hoeker.
Mind if I try and put a melody to it?
It really deserves one.
What page are you on in your almanac now, Nats?

That's beautiful, Hoeker.
Mind if I try and put a melody to it?
It really deserves one.

Cedar Run -The entry explaining the Conestoga wagon is in THE ALMANAC OF AMERICAN HISTORY by Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. on page 91 as follows:
Transportation.... "During this decade, the Conestoga Wagon, which is suitable for frontier travel, first makes its appearance in the Pennsyvania colony.....facilitate(s) the settlement of western territories."
Two years ago, someone brought in 3 or 4 Conestoga Wagons and ran tourists in them to our downtown area using four Percherons or other draft horses each. The venture only lasted during the tourist season, which here is very short (June, July, and August.) The venture was not successful, because tourists generally are more interested in getting to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, not following the Oregon/Mormon trails around the Oil Capital City of the Rockies. They were beautiful wagons, and their maker even crafted wooden connecting screws and made them the same way they were made from the beginning. We found a model of a Conestoga Wagon at a craft store and put it in our display window that year. One recent summer the Mormons celebrated a centennial or a susquecentennial of their migration through our state to get to Utah (Mormon Trail). A large number of them died near Independence Rock of fever. We have a lot of streptococcus-type sore throats here, and it used to take a lot of lives before we got penicillin. The Mormons used hand carts to carry their goods across the plains, which was a little slower than Conestogas.
Hoeker, I'll be happy to stop the historical poetry if you will stop your rhetorical vomiting. I wasn't much interested in history until 1989, when I began work on a pair of theme quilts entitled "Aesthetics of All God's Children--Children of the World and World Adventure Cruise Applique Album Quilts," which took 600 hours to assemble information from various library sources, and 3 years to finish the first quilt. The second quilt was never finished, because someone stole 7 of my completed quilt blocks before I could put them in my quilt. Nevertheless, my son and I applied for and received copyrights to the books back then, and we still sell them in the shop. Visitors seeing the children and costumes, especially doll enthusiasts (and others who have traveled extensively and seen native European, Asian, African, Australian, South American, and North American cultural attire) like instructions to make their own family such an heirloom.
Anyway, I wasn't trying to make you sick, I was trying to teach me American History, since I wasn't very much interested when I took classes in it in high school.
I'm sorry I offended your more refined senses, Hoeker.

This is all prose and poetry, Trony...
Don't take it too seriously. That can lead to all sorts of problems - psychologically speaking. I see the little digs and comments you make about me elsewhere, and I fear that you're taken in by the prospect that your words here may have some significance. Let me assure you that they do not.

Well, Hoeker, I'll leave the "prose and poetry with words that have no significance" to you and your buds & galpals from now on.
Your overbearingly hateful words may not mean anything to you, but psychologically speaking, they're deleterious to those who think people mean what they say. I'm sure you have some rationalization for your nastiness, but I don't think I want to know what that is.

Whatever...
And I wonder day to day I don't like you anyway I don't need your sh*t today You pathetic in your own way
I feel for you better f*ckin' go away I will behave
I'm doing the best I ever did I'm doing the best that I can Now go away
I don't need to fantasize You are my pets all the time I don't mind if you go blind You get what you get Until you're through with my life
- Godsmack

OK, Mr. Smarty Where's the poem party? You hated how I mixed it Now's your turn to fix it.
What--art thou afeard? Why's not thy line appeared? My poems may not be a sensation, But I got much determination!
Hoeker, you're actin' humble Whassa matter you? Afraid to rumble!?

Stuff it, Trony...
Take a hike. Give the stuff a well-earned rest. I'll not heed Your challenge, lame, Nor create at your behest.
Inspiration Can't be forced. A point that seems elusive. Kindly bite me In the rear. Don't be so obtusive.

Go ahead, you silly man, flee! You can't perform? Then don't blame me! Edit: And while we're on the subject of rhyme Growth in usage takes some time. But if you wait too darn long This thread gets Dave's good-bye gong.

"...can't perform..."
Is that what the old man tells you?
Try taking a shower.

I think you like being abusive. Why Hoeker, would you be intrusive? Some things are not for your suggestion. Surely you just have indigestion.

I'm an egotism deflator, Trony...
My job is to assure that you're not becoming too full of yourself.
BTW...seems you've discarded your idiotic "Rah-rah, Boy George" rhetoric on the other threads. It's definitely an improvement.

"I'm an egotism deflator, Trony..."
Oh brother, what a phony.
You mean that you're a bully For, I understand that fully!
"My second favorite state - intoxicated."
Oh, brother, yourself you've overrated!
What you mean is you've a strudel In your most unpleasant noodle!
So to continue in your fable you Want someone to enable you.
hahahahahahahahahahah!

The only thing I care for less...
Than your pedantic noise, Is a festering boil upon my cheek That makes me lose my poise. A monstrously huge and hot carbuncle Upon my wizened face Is all that sounds a least as bad As your foul-breathed embrace.

lol - Hoeker
And to reach that slight delusion, Pray what caused you such confusion? Was it glue that you were sniffing, Or is this your day for spliffing?
By the way you loathe your pimple, You should give it hygiene simple. That's your upper lip you're smelling Think you should keep to your spelling.
Good night!

Yesterday This election seemed so far away. Now it's dragging on for days and days They'll count those votes in many ways.
Suddenly All these chad are hanging over me. There's a ballot lying on the floor. Was it for Bush? Was it for Gore?
Why'd we have to vote? I don't know, it's so unclear Do we even know If our votes will count this year...ear...ear...ear...
Yesterday Gore was leading so pronouncedly Now he's hinging on legalities Oh yesterday went suddenly.
Why'd George have to be Such a dense, affable bore? His verbal inability Sent my vote for Albert Gore...ore...ore...ore...
Yesterday I was watching CNN all day. Now I've got to get some sleep and stay Away from this unending fray.
Away from this un...end....ing fray!
:)

I have no pimple, Trony...
Don't be so friggin' dense. You take this all too lit'rally, Please use some common sense.
The metaphors and symbols Are used to illustrate My disdain for your drivel. Must I reiterate?

Lit'rally? Dense? Common Sense?
Bwahahahahahahahahah!
Well, I certainly did snooker Your perception, Mr. Hoeker! For to see your irritation I must say brings me elation!
For if you disdain my "drivel," You have no need to snivel; That is why computers have a scroll-down key. Simply use it if a "wizened" one you'd be.

You don't "irritate me", Trony...
You don't mean enough to me to cause irritation. You provide me with another outlet for my verbal creativity, and I do appreciate that. You've got a series of concentric circles painted on your forehead.
Bang.

and your boys consider you a hot thang but a word to the wise It is you that many blacks despise You say it's okay We know what's ya problem You're in love with OJ.

Thanks, Tone...
You've demonstrated that you have virtually no skills whatsoever. Couple that fact with your despicable racism, and it's doubtful that you have any redeeming qualities at all.
Go hate some more. It's your life.

...but it wasn't OJ's knife Can ya feel my rap...it's similar to wu tang No, you're white...it's a black thang Afro-American poets We have our own "modo"(spanish) Step aside hoe, I'm a bad mutha

You're bad all right, Tone...
Take a bath, dude.
Your skin's turning purple.

...that's not a sin The fact that my skin has melanin You see....this is something I know.. ..that a lack of melanin is called an albino blonde hair and blue eyes.....it's not formal they lack color ...it's not normal***giggle***

I knew you couldn't rhyme "purple"...
Now, get your over-melanin-ed self back in the shower. You aren't clean yet.

bicycle on lady's fan scrolls rococo in a plan kings and queens and knaves galore see them scattered on the floor cousins, friends around them toil citing some wisdom from Hoyle never mind the unromance outside of a game of chance sadly I see jokers gaze lost within the land of plays as life passes they denied satisfaction justified

1751
Ben Franklin thought a uniting plan prime To give to Albany Congress in time. Parliament passed down the Currency Act Banning paper money here as a fact.

feathered friend draped in black and white raiment rent for his air space, splendor his payment spreading the wings of his penniform cape chasing boredom from the drab winterscape

What? No billets-doux from Hoeker today?<g> What can one say? Except Hip, hip, hoo-ray! Perhaps a clement soul he'll be When he gets tired of cruelty.

God, what a simp!<g>
From what I understand of Trony's protocol, it's OK to say anything you like, no matter how vile or inappropriate, as long as it's accompanied by a "<g>".

Hoeker's spinning Is always ongoing, No matter how whacky Or just plain unknowing.
e.g.:
billets-doux = sweet words = vile and inappropriate.
pffffffffffffft!

I was speaking in general, you idiot...
Your inane <g>s are sprinkled throughout your blatherings on this forum. Your hint at some perceived ignorance about your simple scribblings is quite misguided. You're about as shallow as they get around here. Stick to your history-onics.

birds warbling their sound, musical trills, sung in the round rainbow on the wind flapping its wings doesn't rescind God's gift to the world penniform art, sequined and pearled
soaring and dipping and rising and plunging to earth one stays in nest to keep eggs warm until there is birth
then feed them till grown teach them to fly all on their own letting the young go is all their parents need to know then setting their sight onto a love and they take flight

tall, great, and stately ostrich, splendidly feathered wisely standing firm

heron, blue heron fishing in shallow waters elusive of man

Nosebleed
A taste like copper, and soon I know.
It will gush forth in a sticky crimson flow.
Tinting my moustache an angry red
This river of hemoglobins vacating my head..

Percolation (Apologies to Homer & Jethro)
Don't let the stars get in your eyes if you've got water on the brain
Your ears will take to steaming
And your eyes will start to streaming
And you'll percolate yourself to death..

Haiku for a Scaly Scalp
White flaky patches
Pepper the girth of my dome
I must scrub some more

Ichthammol
I like Ichthammol salve
It reduces the volume of my boils by half
It's black and its icky, that's really quite clear
But it sure does the trick when staphlococcus appears

friendly observer with song, no words placed onto quilt squares with thread, the birds for ornithologist kind and dear given at Christmas, drawing near.

in the stratosphere pale clouds are pulled by strong force strands of angel hair

temp'rature red hot place great round stone in oven freezer pizza bake

never do today something that would harm other in thought, word, or deed

how was my dear love inculcated with good deeds for all of his life?

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Bush is a loser
and Gore is too.

singin' country clouds
mischief maker, undertaker troubles cover me makes me smart, breaks my heart (oh)that's a certainty.
come tomorrow, sing my sorrow share it with-a my friends big grey cold cloud, like an old shroud seems there's no amends
singin'.... singin'..... country clouds galore! there's no sunshine, just a shrill whine more trouble than before!
wailin'..... whinin'..... country clouds bring winds rainy and cold, just like blue mold damp moods sunshine ends
mean an' wild, a frightened child, distends that lower lip. thinkin' sad thought, I'm overwrought, shore ain't feelin' hip!
ain't no hurry, just my worry overtakin' my life all my heartaches, all my hard breaks, seems there's only strife!
I been dinin' on some whinin' Bad taste was-a my goal I was worse, see? Lord have mercy On my low, sad soul
I hear the music in my head, wish I could share it. Just want to dedicate a little of this from my heart to those of my friends who have worries, in the parameters of country music's sure, downhome, sympathetic commiseration. Sometimes singin' just makes ya feel better.
Love,
natrona

Up Around the Bend
Up around my nostril's end
Beyond my finger, past it's end
Is one last waiting goober I simply cannot reach
If only I could haul it out, then I would be at peace.

I Sat on a Jack
I sat on a Jack
What a heinous attack
On my butt resting here in repose.
But I suppose I could say
In a definite way
Better there than wedged up my nose.

Moonlight
See the softness of the moonlight fall over every farm and meadow
Shape shifting light of God's own kind bathes the world's dimensions
In moonlight all your dreams
Are wrapped in golden beams
In moonlight, you can always find your way back home.

Folliculitis
It starts with a rash, bumpy and red
Topical steroids cause it to blossom and spread
Only antibiotics can bring it to bay
And cause all the pustules to wither away

Crawdad And The Worm (Haiku)
Swimming nude, wiggling
Nearsighted crawdad latched on
I give up swimming.

Beautiful, CR...

ever-present wind blowing over the prairie in the wintertime

gibbous camel ran bearing his heavy burden angry at the world

Today, a quote from Emily Dickinson:
EMILY DICKINSON (1830-1886) Complete Poems, 1924 Part Two: Nature LXXVII
It was later when the summer went Than when the crict came, And yet we know that gentle clock Meant nought but going home.
'T was sooner when the cricket went Than when the winter came, Yet that pathetic pendulum Keeps esoteric time.

Spider Monkey Vendor Malodorous
(a poem)
He sells balloons made of cheese
To the monks of Mulroney
And if they say "please"
He adds bonus baloney.
And though some say he's testy
And some claim he's evil
His mustard is zesty
and it's not full of weevils.

Blue...
Beautiful, simply beautiful.
And nutritious, too.

"Here I sit
Cheeks a-flexin'
Just gave birth
To another Texan"

ROTFLMMFAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You would.

like a circus mirror that contorts a shape black and white newspaper hides the truth with drape
all that doesn't matter, doesn't mean a thing - when you love a brother, and pray for his being
everybody knows it deep down in their heart the loving hand of comfort lends its healing art
let the words of anger hate, derision, pride - take the train to nowhere and not stay inside
for the soul is precious cherished by the good let the morning sunshine kiss as kindness would

I laughed my effing ass off...
I don't know where to find it. I searched all through the living room, The davenport, behind it.
I looked into the toilet bowl And saw it wasn't there. I checked the car, I checked the bed, It isn't anywhere.
I'm standing as I type this; There's no place I can sit. Now I just can hardly wait 'Til it's time to take a shit.

Oh, hoeker.
Are you sayin' you can't find Your tushie or your tiny mind?

There once was a Beau with a tress
Beau's psyche was really a mess
Beau voted for Dick
That proved Beau was sick
Now Beau's in a pool of rhymed cess

the winter of our discontent when spinning hath our nation rent the lying was so foul and fell thank God it's gone, now we'll be well.

Cheney needs a heart
Bush needs a brain
I am the Lion
And Dorothy's insane

hands etched by Durer, clasped in prayer, hope quintessence of man's earnest search for right strength, thought, and disciplined understanding contemplation for living and soul's sight

LAMENT
To silence the voice of the people, And stifle their right to speak Will render great harm to our country And make this democracy weak.
When taking away our guaranteed right To walk in and offer our vote It shakes our beliefs to the core of our soul And makes our voice sound so remote.
This country so old has survived many trials In war as its battle scars show We ve tried to do simple things right as we saw And follow the course that we know.
With differences strong and feelings so deep That anger to surface does rise As each of us hopefully stands in repose While watching through sad, doubtful eyes.
We question our safety, our central belief Our nation precariously drawn To chasm so deep and to schism so wide Will we make it through night to new dawn.
Oh pray for us all as we watch helplessly And stand while the issues so rage Between those that fight for the power to lead But forget lessons taught through the age.
(copyright edrie blackwelder 2000)

Whilst reading online news I stumbled upon these views:
- "An appeals court in Atlanta upheld a federal judge's refusal to throw out 2,400 overseas ballots."
- "Democratic lawyers in Tallahassee asked the Florida Supreme Court to reject thousands of votes for Bush under a lawsuit challenging absentee ballot applications."
Who'd break the faith of these trusting souls And throw out their voice cast at polls?
And when my husband withdrew his stylus pen, Thinking, no I won't vote that way again. Will someone change his change of mind? Leaving his decision to not vote behind?
x http://wire.ap.org/?PACKAGEID=election2000

Uh-huh...
Topic: Pathfinder Prose And Poetry Place II

I had a red-haired mother With eyes as blue as lakes And she taught me and brother The playground give and takes:
"Don't ever be the bully, Who starts fights when you play, But understand this fully, Let fairness rule the day."
"And if a bully pushes you You have to push him back. He's likely to respect you When you counterattack."
"But if you hide or cower How can you help a friend? If you give bullies power, Your trouble will not end."

"Hypocrite"
That's the favorite name television evangelists use, Hoeker. You're just like 'em.

You will be more than glad...
To point me to, I'm sure, A passage that will verify The essence of your slur.
You must provide a paragraph, A sentence or a word, To give the boards some evidence Of your ad homming turd.
You prove that I'm a hypocrite, You vile pedantic fool. And don't forget to wipe your chin, Of spittle , snot, and drool.

No one will tell you, Hoeker drear, For you don't know it, That is clear But you are naughty In the mouth You wonder why Your friends go south? "I've grown to love you" "You're a fool." One day you're warm, The next you're cool. At least you're funny When playing drone It's surely weird Testosterone.

ya know, if you two wanna do battle, there's no point in anyone else posting here
Am I wasting time on a silly thread where parsing a rhyme is like being dead
on the open sea where no one cares to see what is written or who posted there!
I'm OUTTA here! whoooooooossssssh!

"My friends go south?"
But surely you jest. My brothers are legion, My soulmates the best.
We're going to have to yank your poetic license.
Edit...edrie...Do let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. I love that slapstick stuff.

the fireman
tall, lean, head held high, he had no trace of ire from looking, one could never tell he'd fought a demon fire
a devil red who burned him with all the wrath of hell but he confronted all the heat his courage did dispel
that evil of consumption, which is flame's epitome; its only course is slash and burn to take away one's home
but he with sinuous muscle the body overcame with raw determination stopped the undisciplined flame
but afterward, this fighting man whose service did not wilt his team put out that bully fire and I made him a quilt
although it happened years ago (I'd thought it not again) for illness got the best of me and I had tortured pain
he walked into my shop and asked to thank his quilt's designer that cheered him when his flesh was burnt and made him feel much finer
but I refused to shake his hand and hugged him yesterday because we all owe firemen more than we can ever say
I thought it well to tell him his brethren saved my floor when town fool torched adjacent roof and caused a fire to roar
he said that fire's defeater was short but fiercly fought, refused to bend to danger that tar and propane wrought
the others couldn't stand it the fire was too hot but shorty kept on spraying a coolant on the spot
his toughness tamed the blazes where coals could blind the eye not thinking once of life itself nor what it's like to die
I thank the Lord for valor, that great, preventive tool when plied against a coward fire saves others from a fool
o mothers teach your children to strength and courage do then dreams will not go up in smoke or cause their souls to rue

the sun is beauteous, heav'nly, bright but it is cold despite the light the feeder in the cottonwood is visited oft, birds dear and good

Just so nobody worries, I am currently reviewing my copy of "The Mayo Clinic's Guide to Family Health, Diseases and Conditions" and will be back with an entire new series of physiological laments set to verse shortly..

My aunt died this morning, and I'll be out of town a few days to be with my dear cousin, who's sure had her share of grief lately.
Farewell, Aunt Janice Blackburn
She glued the angels' halos She hemmed the shepherds' coats She dressed the angel chorus That sang the Christmas notes
She welcomed all to her house Her charming, cheerful way For happy family gath'rings At every holiday.

A quotation using today's word sport, at Time Education's Vocabulary Development Workshop :
The Fool's Prayer
by Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887)
The royal feast was done, the King Sought some new sport to banish care, And to his jester cried, "Sir Fool, Kneel now, and me for us a prayer!"
The jester doffed his cap and bells, And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore.
He bowed his head, and bent his knee Upon the Monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose, "O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!
" 'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord we stay; 'Tis by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away.
"These clumsy feet, still in the mire, Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend.
"The ill-timed truth we might have kept -- Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say -- Who knows how grandly it had rung?
"Our faults no tenderness should ask, The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders -- oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall.
"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!"
The room was hushed; in silence rose The King and sought his gardens cool And walked apart, and murmered low, "Be merciful to me, a fool!

NOT LOVE, NOT WAR, NOR THE TUMULTOUS SWELL William Wordsworth
NOT love, not WAR, nor the tumultous swell, Of civil conflict, nor the wrecks of change, Nor duty struggling with afflictions strange -- Not these 'alone' inspire the tuneful shell; But where untroubled peace and concord dwell, There also is the Muse not loth to range, Watching the twilight smoke of cot or grange, Skyward ascending from a woody dell. Meek aspirations please her, lone endeavour, And sage content, and placid melancholy; She loves to gaze upon a crystal river -- Diaphanous because it travels slowly; Soft is the music that would charm for ever; The flower of sweetness smell is shy and lowly. 1823
William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Complete Poetical Works, 1888, London, MacMillian & Co.

Your stuff belongs here, Trony...
Along with this:
To a Young Ass its mother being tethered near it
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Poor little foal of an oppressèd race! I love the languid patience of thy face: And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread, And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head. But what thy dulled spirits hath dismayed, That never thou dost sport along the glade? And (most unlike the nature of things young) That earthward still thy moveless head is hung? Do thy prophetic fears anticipate, Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate? The starving meal, and all the thousand aches "Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes"? Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain To see thy wretched mother's shortened chain? And truly, very piteous is her lot -- Chained to a log within a narrow spot, Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen, While sweet around her waves the tempting green!
Poor Ass! they master should have learnt to show Pity -- best taught by fellowship of Woe! For much I fear me that He lives like thee, Half famished in a land of Luxury! How askingly its footsteps hither bend! It seems to say, "And have I then one friend?" Innocent foal! thou poor despised forlorn! I hail thee Brother -- spite of the fool's scorn! And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell, Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride, And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side! How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play, And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay! Yea! and more musically sweet to me Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be, Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!
--1794

Sir, thy patronization of others Doth not more than a Salieri make thee Of course, thy sullen, diaphanous brothers Wilt obfuscate thy poison and hate me.

I thinks Thee stinks.

That's thy upper lip; Thee slip.

Ahhhhh...
The old "rubber/glue" ploy.
More of the same, You're still just as lame.

Mr. Hoeker
Thy petty, disingenuous prose Matcheth thy incredulous nose! If there is chance to insolent be, Present is pretentious, omniscient thee And thy amphegoric stasis Rages on quotidian basis; Thy factitious fanfaronade Comes with perfidious parade. Oh, you silly naughty guy.... Did you think that I would cry?
bwahahahahahahahah!

Now that was quite the blatherment, With obvious aid of dictionary. But tell me something, oh ponderous one: Are your sisters also short, fat, and hairy?

Good one.

"Good one."
Oh, I used to be, before I met you.

Whoops...
I forgot to spell everything out in excruciating detail so as to be comprehensible by your apparently one-dimensional and debilitatingly feeble mind.
I was being sarcastic about your extremely lame and uncreative response.

It's ok, nobody's perfect.

triptych in blue
untouched, forgotten at heart, lonely by nature censorious friends
true to cerebral winging the unfamiliar amidst meteors
trying to find truth learning the way of the wind caught in a current

between hills and sea neither river nor ocean estuary bourne

Daniel M'Cumber
When I went to the city, Mary McNeely, I meant to return for you, yes I did. But Laura, my landlady's daughter Stole into my life somehow, and won me away. Then after some years whom should I meet But Georgina Miner from Niles--a sprout Of the free love, Fourierist gardens that flourished Before the war all over Ohio. Her dilettante lover had tired of her. And she turned to me for strength and solace. She was some kind of a crying thing One takes in one's arms, and all at once It slimes your face with its running nose, And voids its essence all over you; Then bites your hand and springs away. And there you stand bleeding and smelling to heaven! Why, Mary McNeely, I was not worthy To kiss the hem of your robe!
Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology, 1916

low cloud on mountain starless, magnificent sky opaque glow from moon

Lord Byron on Pyrrhic lessons.

artiodactyl squishing four toes in the mire hippotami

elusive dancer whirling on point deep in time to other drummer

passage meaningless writ by caducity's pain galimatias

red, green, silver, gold trimmed with striped peppermint canes loving ornaments

wind directing snow into harmonious drifts virtuosity!

death brings but silence life gives us all time to sing vociferously

the sun rises up warmth radiates down to earth as in a day dream

good intentions fail when time puts on the kibosh best to promptly act

liquid puppy sleeps angelic pose and sweet bliss abstruse saber teeth

Don't quit your day job, Natrona, if you have one.

may beauty surround you may God stay and found you may peace walk before you may Heaven adore you may all kindness warm you may no evil harm you may angels entwine you your troubles refine you may good health be given you may justice live in you so Satan shall fear you when you keep God near you
becki marsh ~1994~

it is the last day of second millenium ephemeral life

GERD
Gastrointestial Reflux Disease
Is scorching my stomach and buckling my knees
Just when I think all is calm, clear and placid
I burp up a huge wad of burning hot acid...