A Later Oct.2021 Showcase..... [ Sharing Others' Poems From P-H]

Introductory Poem: It's October 29th and I'll stay up late to share with you several P-H poems I've enjoyed, not just one or two. Ok, so what if ONE of them is from my own hand? You don't HAVE TO read it; I think I'll understand. [Maybe] It's the least I can do these days on a site, nearly 'gone to pot', a mere shadow of a site which for years I really 'loved a lot'. Well not 'gone to pot', but headed, perhaps, in that direction. To members new here, what I refer to is beyond your detection. There are very few typos in the poems below, I do now 'swear', but even I, Bri Edwards, makes them, so don't you despair. Enjoy what you can, and, if you must, yawn at the others. Tonight I'll rest, I HOPE, without guilt, under my bed covers. October 29th,2021 ============================================= 1- A Cracked Letter I chanced to see the letters, You wrote me a long long ago, Each alphabet, Stood before me with an image, That hid so many stories, and So many tender moments of affection. I held them in my palm, Smelt the scent, That was hidden under each syllable. The letters were worn out by time, The folds cracked, As each one of them were read and re-read Innumerable times, Lost the strength To bear the emotions That were falling heavy on them. Some syllables had vanished by tear drops Some had vanished in the folds. As I held the letter, Bits of paper fell in my lap, Reminding me of the time gap. I gathered the torn pieces Tried to join them in their places But some syllables were Never to be found. Bharati Nayak Saturday, January 19,2019 ---------------------------------- 2- Never Argue With A 3-Year Old My three-year-old put his hand on his chin like he was mulling over something troubling 'But, Papa, ' he moaned, 'I pway wifh these! ' His room was cluttered from wall to wall-- books and crayons, even an old football, an old sippy cup, its contents long dried up, cars, trucks strewn about from a huge pileup, game pieces and his Christmas roller skates, and things I'd long forgotten he even owned. 'Straighten it up, now! ' I commanded. He began to pout. 'It's myyyy wooom, Papa.' Stifling a tear of my own, I nodded, agreeing, 'But YOUR room is in MY house, ' I explained. When I stepped out and closed the door, I heard stuff being tossed hither and yon, So, I stood there for a good long while, and, this is what I heard: 'Otay, I queen up my woom, but next year for Quissmas....' then, loudly, 'I WANT A HOUSE OF MY OWN, OTAY! ' Loud enough for him to hear, I replied, 'SO, WHEN NEXT CHRISTMAS COMES, SON, I'LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO! ' L MILTON HANKINS Wednesday, March 24,2021 ----------------------------------------------- 3- A Baby's Laughter Each time I hear a baby's laughter I feel a tickle in my heart. I have to stop and listen better Catching each note of musical art. Such innocent laugh in joy released, A soothing balm for a wearied soul. All earthly worries seem to ease, A baby's laughter makes me whole. Cynthia BuhainBaello (Composed July 18,2008 -Tarlac City Philippines ----------------------------------------------- 4- Howl I want you to feel the insufferable loss of me. I want you to feel as though you're unable to function without me. I want your body to quake and quiver with the fantasy of me. I want you to sweat and howl; to run in wind and hail, through bracken, branches and stinging nettles and find me in a queue at Tesco's and tell me those awesome words. Lucienne Kim Flavell Friday, November 9,2012 ----------------------------------------------- 5- Hand-Haying The rhythm of the scythe plume In the summer heat. The step-by, step-by cadence Of the old man's steady feet. The zip-saw of the whet-stone Against the metal blade. The wizened hands like leather That never knew the shade. And I am just a child again On a tumbled stoop; Watching ancient haying, Marveling at the crop Of tumbled swathes of timothy Symmetrically alive, Falling layer on even layer To the mercy of the scythe. Adeline Foster Saturday, October 25,2008 --------------------------------------------------- 6- A Lonely Cloud.....[nature Observation; Humor] I saw a lonely cloud one day. It looked small beyond the Bay. I tried to find a second and failed, even though I looked each way. Think of it! A single cloud. Its loneliness spoke to me aloud. I wonder how it felt up there. Was it very proud? A rarity I think it was; like an active bee with no buzz; like a single potato chip; like a peach skin with no fuzz. Like one firefighter at a fire; a solitary pigeon on a wire; a Facebook member with no 'friend'; a single member in a choir. It's like an Easter basket with one egg; a basketball star with one leg; me with just one word to say; a fraternity party with just one keg. I guess you've come to realize by now that when I saw that cloud I thought 'Wow! '. If I'd been Adam, with Eve at my side, to that small distant cloud I might bow. (August 2012) Bri Edwards Thursday, August 30,2012 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 7- A Gothic Encounter (Scary Halloween Poem!) An unkempt man approached me one dark evening 'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour' 'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held And I wondered what fate had in store It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing Of a style that one rarely meets Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest' On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed They were varnished as per his morbid fashion And in his throat the tune he hummed Spoke of past revels and passion Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone In which he proceeded to intimate his desire That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention Those being a vein and a slit Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call As I found I could not make a sound Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw His feet hovering an inch from the ground I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles Then pocketed it with a hiss He said he could see why he might be reviled For the comtempt he had treated me with Then he parted his lips and smiled To allude to the fiendish alternative It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance His smile was a smile like no other Then with a doff a wink and a smirk He smoothly departed our puddle of light And melting into the inky black murk He receded into the night Now whenever I am about after dark I determine to not be so too late And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake Mike Michaels Saturday, October 29,2011 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- 9- Fifth Grade: October 22,1985 in fifth grade my teacher said i talked too much she used shears and a metal spool of extra-wide adhesive tape to shut my mouth zzzzip, snip... zzzzip, snip... zzzzip, snip... zzzzip, snip... zzzzip, snip... zzzzzzip, snip... zzzzip, snip... in a crazy quilt of adhesive silence that morning, other kids looked smirked giggled stared and asked me questions as i sat there mute dumb, an unanswering mummy that noon, mouthless i couldn't eat lunch i was a girl with no mouth no mouth, no talking no mouth, no lunch that afternoon, another teacher came to our room to borrow some chalk she saw my face she stared and stared at me but not a word to my teacher about me or my condition after school, in detention the tape burned as it finally came off in the girls bathroom mirror i stared at my own face a network of red tape mark lines my skin a map of martian canals and grey adhesive stickum bits that wouldn't come off no matter how i scrubbed at home, my mother noticed the rubbery grey bits on my face (the red had faded) and i had to explain how my teacher silenced me with adhesive tape but my mom interrupted: 'well, you probably had it coming! ' in my room, i cried and cried silenced twice in a single day Alana Krueger Thursday, December 10,2015