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Profile Julie
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Message 1288145 - Posted: 26 Sep 2012, 17:42:51 UTC

If there's a heaven


If there's a heaven,
why can't I see it?

If there's a heaven,
why can't I believe it?

If there's a heaven,
let me see it.

'Cause when I die,
I want to go to that heaven.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1288245 - Posted: 26 Sep 2012, 23:39:18 UTC
Last modified: 26 Sep 2012, 23:41:19 UTC

The Blue House


It is a night of radiant sun. I stand in the dense forest and look away to-
ward my house with its haze-blue walls. As if I had just died and was see-
ing the house from a new angle.
It has stood for more than eighty summers. Its wood is impregnated
with four times joy and three times sorrow. When someone who lived in
the house dies, it is repainted. The dead person himself is painting, with-
out a brush, from inside.
Beyond the houses, open ground. Once a garden, now grown over. Sta-
tionary breakers of weed, pagodas of weed, welling text, Upanishads of
weed, a viking fleet of weed, dragon heads, lances, a weed empire!
Across the overgrown garden flutters the shadow of a boomerrang that
is thrown again and again. It has something to do with a person who lived
in the house long before my time. Almost a child. An impulse comes
from him, a thought, a thought like an act of will: "make. . .draw..." To
reach out of his fate.
The house is like a child's drawing. A deputizing childishness that grew
because someone--much too soon--gave up his mission to be a child.
Open the door, step in! In here there's unrest in the ceiling and peace in
the walls. Above the bed hangs a painting of a ship with seventeen sails,
hissing wave crests, and a wind that the gilt frame can't contain.
It's always so early in here, before the crossroads, before the irrevocable
choices. Thank you for this life! Still I miss the alternatives. The sketches,
all of them want to become real.
A ship's engine far away on the water expands the summer-night hori-
zon. Both joy and sorrow swell in the dew's magnifying glass. Without
really knowing, we divine; our life has a sister ship, following quite an-
other route. While the sun blazes behind the islands.


by Tomas Tranströmer,
The Great Inigma

*

jm
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Message 1288510 - Posted: 27 Sep 2012, 17:49:32 UTC

In mind a fable


Like the wind blows,
I hear her heartbeat.
Like the rain falls,
she is so sweet.

Like a flower opens,
her mind is sealed.
Like a tree without leaves,
her thoughts revealed.

Like a rose with thorns,
she chooses her words.
Like people in a madhouse,
no understanding makes us nerds.

Like the sun is shining,
her face smiles.
Like the moon is glowing,
she has many styles.

Like a fish in the water,
she feels great.
Like a bird in the sky,
she's keeping faith.

Like a ship that floats,
fragile but stable.
Like a cloud that's drifting,
in mind a fable.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1288627 - Posted: 28 Sep 2012, 0:58:39 UTC

Duct Tape


One day, when hunting,
I did see
a pond with ducks,
with eyes on me.

They knew that I
sans dog, or boat,
could never alter
quacks of gloat.

Their raucous quacks
from jokes, they told,
gave inspiration,
for me, bold.

From pocket, drawn,
a roll of tape --
stretched 'cross some trees
at end of lake.

With sticky side
that faced their way --
I clapped my hands
and shouted, "Hey!"

And, up they flew,
quite rid of me. . .
until they met
my taped-up trees.

"I'll teach you ducks
to laugh, at me!
I'll tape your bills;
the laugh's on me!"

But, sadly, though,
I let them go.
As Julie said,
". . . with duct tape, no!"

* * *

j. r. martin
27 September 2012

*

ref. Julie mess. 1287147,
"Don't Post in my Thread Thread",
Monday.
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Profile Julie
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Message 1288754 - Posted: 28 Sep 2012, 10:39:42 UTC

Good one, Jim:)
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Profile Julie
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Message 1288942 - Posted: 28 Sep 2012, 17:49:46 UTC

Paris


Standing there in the middle
of a large square under a building.
Younger than I'll ever be.
In one hand a city map,
in the other a camera.
The view is so amazing,
the world seems mine
for just one second.
The city is crowded with people
and I capture the pictures.
Seeing this city,
with all her secrets,
makes me want to lose myself
while listening to all the stories
that she tells.


Julie Detavernier (2010)
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Profile Julie
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Message 1289416 - Posted: 29 Sep 2012, 17:51:45 UTC

Kindred Spirit


When words are unnecessary.
When a look is all it takes.
When a half word
feels like a whole sentence.
Then you know
you're in good company.

When a joke, not even finished,
gets a laugh right away.
When two minds
think alike.
Then you know
you're in great company.

When you feel at ease,
like you feel when no one is around.
When you can be yourself
with all your craziness.
Then you know
this company is different from others.

When a soul gets touched
by an invisible hand.
When your heart beats so strong,
like it beats for two.
Then you know
the company you're in
is a kindred spirit.
A soulmate,
someone who needs no explaining
but just is, like you.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1289793 - Posted: 30 Sep 2012, 17:54:47 UTC

Poem for a dreamer


His eyes flew into mine.
Their depth reminded me of heaven.
Infinities of oceans, mingled with skies
wandered through my mind.

O, Darling, where art thou?
Mixed in those infinities,
those everlasting nothings
or just a sigh away?

Around the next corner,
waiting for me at the other end,
like we never parted.
We never parted,
my dreamer and I.

O, Darling, where art thou?
Thou art there,
mingled in this very moment,
caressing my every thought,
while I read what you wrote.

Parting is an impossibility,
just a curtain for your eyes.
I am, even when you don't see me,
right in front of you.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1290090 - Posted: 1 Oct 2012, 16:52:09 UTC

"Stonewall Skyfall"

who am i?
what can i be?
buckets of blood
on the desert sea
i'm just one
and another is you
crossing paths
on the dry land
where there is no dew
breaking and burning
are these naked years
world keeps turning
and we keep yearning
but the stonewall skyfall
not to drink
if we can't eat
we can still think
ride a wild dream
from this land
to the green Earth there
from this burning sand

(2012 db michel)

I am enjoying the latest works of Julie and Jim!
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Message 1290110 - Posted: 1 Oct 2012, 17:17:00 UTC - in response to Message 1290090.

"Stonewall Skyfall"

who am i?
what can i be?
buckets of blood
on the desert sea
i'm just one
and another is you
crossing paths
on the dry land
where there is no dew
breaking and burning
are these naked years
world keeps turning
and we keep yearning
but the stonewall skyfall
not to drink
if we can't eat
we can still think
ride a wild dream
from this land
to the green Earth there
from this burning sand

(2012 db michel)

I am enjoying the latest works of Julie and Jim!



Thanx Dan:) Btw: beautiful poem.
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Message 1290187 - Posted: 1 Oct 2012, 20:15:32 UTC

Another great one by the poem man Dan.

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Message 1290844 - Posted: 3 Oct 2012, 17:53:59 UTC

Friendship


Written with a pen.
Sealed with a kiss.
If you are my friend,
please answer this:

Are we friends?
Or maybe not.
You told me once
but I forgot.

So tell me now
and tell me true
so I can say
I'm here for you.

Of all the friends
I've ever met,
you're the one
I won't forget.

And if I die
before you do,
I'll go to heaven
and wait for you.


Julie Detavernier (2012)


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Message 1290903 - Posted: 3 Oct 2012, 20:33:22 UTC

Very nice Julie.

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Message 1291071 - Posted: 4 Oct 2012, 5:37:24 UTC
Last modified: 4 Oct 2012, 6:15:54 UTC

Dan -- Here's one which derives its inspiration from the words, "buckets
of blood", in your poem, "Stonewall Skyfall". A hat-tip, your way, as
my own "Buckets of Blood" depicts one of the hardships our illustrious
ancestors must have faced.

*

Buckets of Blood

Buckets of blood
on a dry, thirsty sea --
marking a flood,
from which ancients did flee.

Terrified cries
to their gods, in despair --
humble, and wise,
beat their breasts, tore their hair.

Sacrifice made
to appease the unknown --
thrusting the blade
into loved-one, alone.

All was for naught,
as the waters crashed down --
soaring birds fought
for the objects, they found.

Silence now reigned
in a nature, pierced through --
buckets have lain,
as the centuries grew.

Dry ocher blood,
in a landscape, now sand --
silicate flood,
in a serpentine land.

* * *

j. r. martin
3 October 2012
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Message 1291122 - Posted: 4 Oct 2012, 10:27:21 UTC - in response to Message 1291071.

Dan -- Here's one which derives its inspiration from the words, "buckets
of blood", in your poem, "Stonewall Skyfall". A hat-tip, your way, as
my own "Buckets of Blood" depicts one of the hardships our illustrious
ancestors must have faced.

*

Buckets of Blood

Buckets of blood
on a dry, thirsty sea --
marking a flood,
from which ancients did flee.

Terrified cries
to their gods, in despair --
humble, and wise,
beat their breasts, tore their hair.

Sacrifice made
to appease the unknown --
thrusting the blade
into loved-one, alone.

All was for naught,
as the waters crashed down --
soaring birds fought
for the objects, they found.

Silence now reigned
in a nature, pierced through --
buckets have lain,
as the centuries grew.

Dry ocher blood,
in a landscape, now sand --
silicate flood,
in a serpentine land.

* * *

j. r. martin
3 October 2012


That is brilliant, Jim...I love it!
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Message 1291288 - Posted: 4 Oct 2012, 17:17:57 UTC - in response to Message 1290903.

Very nice Julie.


Thanx Mike:) I wrote it for my sister-in-law.
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Message 1291679 - Posted: 5 Oct 2012, 17:43:34 UTC

Look around


Everybody tries to keep
their head up high,
hoping for a bright
and shiny sky.

Praying to God or Allah
or a celebrity religion,
that's called Kaballah.

Maybe there will be
a plane to heaven.
From the airport,
gate number seven.

All passengers will be released
from today's 'glamour'.
But please, let us pray
for God to have a hammer.

To knock down everybody
with their head up high.
Arrogant, selfish, blind.
It's just a dirty sky.

Open their eyes,
so they can really see,
life is not about
satisfying 'me'.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1292482 - Posted: 7 Oct 2012, 17:56:01 UTC

Heroes


We don't have to be
afraid of anything.
'Cause we know we
can handle things.
We will try everything
and we will fight for it,
'cause we're the heroes,
that's for sure.
We will be saved
from the dark
and taken to the light.
Everyone is a hero,
if they want to believe.
You can do anything you want
and be the hero tonight.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1292712 - Posted: 8 Oct 2012, 4:54:20 UTC - in response to Message 1290844.

Friendship


Written with a pen.
Sealed with a kiss.
If you are my friend,
please answer this:

Are we friends?
Or maybe not.
You told me once
but I forgot.

So tell me now
and tell me true
so I can say
I'm here for you.

Of all the friends
I've ever met,
you're the one
I won't forget.

And if I die
before you do,
I'll go to heaven
and wait for you.


Julie Detavernier (2012)



BEAUTIFUL Julie.
____________

I Desire Peace and Justice, Jim Scott

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