Heavy are my steps this day forward.
For my kitties and my steps have grown longward.
For my lady, she's said she's going onwward.

Once she's left,I'v no cover for my back,
Not a coat of my own, and I'm 500 miles from my home/

Not a shirt on my back, not a penney to my name.

And I'm 500 miles from my home.

I'll be there in the morning./

I would walk At least 5000 miles on foot........ I done it before...LOL. More than once.

---

"Freedom is just Chaos, with better lighting." Alan Dean Foster

Coffee-House Chatter


Pushing a hearing-aid button,
the coffee-house chatter
receded into the background.

Peace, at last.

I could now divert attention
to my friends.
We wore well, on each other,

and didn't expect more than
a friendly ear,
or comment.

Children, grand-children,
the latest developments
in our constant campaigns

against the infirmities of
aging.
Not a morbid subject --

just one that wouldn't be
featured in the latest pop tune.

The coffee was hot, and the pastry,
a good complement.

Perhaps, a few lines would be
read, from a favorite newspaper,
or book,
if a free moment or two, arose.

Sometimes, the fireplace's flames
would be turned on,
to add a homey -- if not, warm --
touch.

"Daddy!" "No, I'm not your daddy."

Kids -- they added amusing diversion to
the mix of people coming in, for
who-knows what reasons.

Mine, is a kaleidoscope of familiar
faces, and fascinating
new ones.

Why travel to the far ends of the globe --
when their citizens are all here?

And, they love to talk about
"the old country" --
for better, or for worse.

All one need do, is
get the hearings-aids
adjusted, properly.

* * *

jm
28 Dec. 2013

---

Good words, Chris. I'll drink to that.

---

Make that three:))

---

rOZZ
Music
Pictures

Perhaps, a little butchered English/Scotch/Iris? This, admittedly,
isn't PC, but will leave the details for Chris, & Co. :oD


Ye Olde Aichless Englysh


We drop ar aiches,
on tavern tyles --
for after tyme,
they gathers smyles.

The Yanks, we know,
they dubbles oop
ta figure oot
wat lays aboot.

Wat's on the tyles,
we dinna mynde,
w'i letters left --
they suyts us fyne.

Says we, when "tyme",
t'a 'ome we wynde!

* *

jm
1 Jan 2014

---

One I found way back in Dan's Poetry Corner II

Now Winter gives me his hand to hold,
I hold his hand, his hand so cold;

And in slow whiteness there arise
Pale shimmering tents deep in my eyes;

It is a voyage round about,
Too swift to drive my fever out,

To all the countries where you die,
Sailing the seas as years go by,

And all the while the tempest beats
Upon the ships of my white sheets,

That surge with starlight on them shed,
And all their swelling sails outspread

I taste upon my lips the salt
Of ocean, like the bitter malt

Drunk in the land's last orgy, when
From the taverns reel the men;

And now I see that land I know:
It is a land of endless snow...;

Make thou the snow less hard to bear,
O Mary of good coverings, there,

And less like hares my fingers run
Over my white sheets that fever spun.


Julie Detavernier (2005)

---

rOZZ
Music
Pictures

A NEW BEGINNING...

God at times leads us to a place,
where answers can't be found...
Where we cannot see tomorrow,
for confusion is all around...

Yet deep inside we realize,
that all things work for good...
Even at times when we've been wounded,
and we feel misunderstood...

Don't dwell on the injustice,
and stay focused on God's heart...
Find forgiveness and go on,
you can make a brand new start...

(CCPR)

bodhisatva, enjoyed the poem, thanks. :)

---

Some camping reminiscences . . .

*

The Woods, at Night


My flashlight beam displayed a realm of branching variety,
which reached out to snag shirt and cap.

Care was needed, to void surrendering
at least the cap, for their souvenier.

It was a peaceful darkness, with spent rain dripping
from bark-clad temporary resting places.

Some downward flow, however, was permanently stopped
by lush, green moss, and leafy-like, blue-gray lichens --

Little forests, of their own,
each with its peculiar flora and fauna --

Orange-red millepedes, black-and-white spiders,
all seeming to say, in the probing glare:

"Oh-Oh, we've been discovered."
"Let's run." "No, we'd better freeze in place."

A slammed door, with stretched, spring-sound,
beckoned this camp-ground visitor

to its wash-house oasis of soft light. . .
with half-asleep nods exchanged by fathers.

Even children's questions were subdued,
complying with the night realm's rules.

Out, again, over the spongy,
carpeted soil, with half-tied boots.

Lights out! At tent-flap,
a hurried, zippered entrance --

to the awaiing warm sleeping-bag,
after first tucking in children, via intermittent

clicks of light, and matching tent-wall
shadow animations.

The woods' quiet night returned.

The children didn't hear, a half-hour later,
the soft, high-pitched squeeks
of a mother racoon and her half-grown youngsters.

Nor, did they see them all, ultimately,
washing their hands in the wash-pan's soapy water.

They'd be told, to their disappointment,
the next morning, at breakfat.

With the moon casting shadows,
other shadows arrived:

Whoo! Whoo! Whoo-Whoo!
Nighttime neighbors, stopping by.

A brief, excited visit, then,
their calls wee claimed by the night.

Softly, then louder, a series of rushing waves
of cooling wind rushed down the surrounding hillsides,

until the local evergreen trees
were compelled to join in the nighttime symphony.

Down, again, and again, from the mountain-sides,
into the moon-lit valley --

Where sleep, finally, claimed its own.

* * *

jm
7 Jan. 2014

---

It's not that cold......

The colder it gets out side the door,
The hotter it is in your heart for sure.

celttooth

---

I am glad you liked it Lynn...although I can relate to the feelings this poem reflects, but the words are not mine.
So would pass on the Appreciation to the original creator...Jill Lemming.

It's not that cold......

The colder it gets out side the door,
The hotter it is in your heart for sure.

celttooth

Try avoiding hurt and it pains a lot more,
Accept it humbly and you would find the cure.

bodhisatva

(I saw you sowed a seed, just watered it a little, may be someone else would shine on it n hopefully it would blossom into a beautiful flower...Hope you don't mind it C.T.)

ON BENDED KNEE...

I ask my love on bended knee,
“Sweetheart will you marry me?”
To which I heard a quick reply..
“Yes, as soon as pigs can fly.”

So I looked high, and I looked low
for a real smart pig, and do you know.,
I found that pig sitting in a sty,
And in a week or two taught him to fly.

I showed the pig to my love, and then,
Asked her to marry me once again.
She said, “I’m sorry, but I lied..
When hell freezes over, I’ll be your bride.

Now, this next part is sad to tell,
She got sick and died, and went to hell.
Her cold heart turned hell into ice,
She’s waiting for me. Now ain't that nice?

(C.C.P.R. = Copy Cat Paste Rat)
Original Composer - Ron Tranmer.

ON BENDED KNEE...

I ask my love on bended knee,
“Sweetheart will you marry me?”
To which I heard a quick reply..
“Yes, as soon as pigs can fly.”

So I looked high, and I looked low
for a real smart pig, and do you know.,
I found that pig sitting in a sty,
And in a week or two taught him to fly.

I showed the pig to my love, and then,
Asked her to marry me once again.
She said, “I’m sorry, but I lied..
When hell freezes over, I’ll be your bride.

Now, this next part is sad to tell,
She got sick and died, and went to hell.
Her cold heart turned hell into ice,
She’s waiting for me. Now ain't that nice?

(C.C.P.R. = Copy Cat Paste Rat)
Original Composer - Ron Tranmer.

This thread was started to post ORIGINAL POEMS. Please find other avenues, such as the Raccoon Thread etc pp.

---

Pluto will always be a planet to me.

Seti Ambassador
Not to late to order an Anni Shirt

Uli -- Kindly check the beginning of our thread. Unless something's
changed, we should be free to post any poems -- our own, or other
favorites. I would add, however, that full credit be given to other
authors; e.g., Mary Oliver, Shakespeare.

---

Post poems, song lyrics and rhymes...Either your own originals or those that you admire that were written by others.

(Since 2005!)

start of thread.

---

Hope you don't mind it C.T.)

Help from you is a treasure,
I read your work with pleasure.

---

:-(

My Bad, Uli...I am so sorry if my post disappointed you in any manner.
Please do Understand it wasn't intended to hurt or insult anyone...
and I very clearly see your point in support of posting originals, because if all of us just keep copy pasting poems from the web it surely wouldn't make no sense and this whole page will be over flooded within a few days...
Although there are a few Absolutely Beautiful poems out there which rightfully deserve a place in this thread, so, from now on I would post an inspirational, and then an original...Hope you wouldn't mind it...

PLUTO...

He floats like no butterfly neither stings like a Bee,
And he ain't Jackie Chan, and no Bruce Lee...

While the solar class attends in the tranquility Sea,
This naughty little fellow drifts away to Pee...

Other planets concentrate and learn the universal a to Z,
But Mr OutLaw doesn't even pay the damn Fees...

Astronomers got furious and decided at Tea,
Locked him up in the dark room and threw away the Key...

O Hail! ye Great Astronomers I go down on my Knees,
No matter how small but very important is He...

He still fights for his planetary existence and so do We,
No matter how small but this little guy will always be a planet to Me...

(Please accept this as my formal Apologee...Original Composition but Inspired by Uli...)

Wish this brings a :-) on your face...

Help from you is a treasure,
I read your work with pleasure.

(CeltTooth)

No big deal my friend it was just a work of my Leisure,
Words can be counted but Happiness has no Measure...

(Bodhisatva :-)