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Poems only

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  • the zest is gone like that from an orange,
    rotting away, skin peeling and torn.

    it makes me question the day i was born,
    true purpose in mind, or a life full of scorn?

    how can we know these answers to this,
    true meanings of life we most often miss.

    to do it again i'd make a life living list,
    and from mother nature it'd get it's main gist.


    • it requires a wire straight and true,
      some faceted beads and a cleave-ace to run through.
      a body of lead, and small bead for the head.
      a spinner blade from some parley-voux,
      and green rubber tubing for the hook you'll use.
      with three bends and several twists,
      it's time to test it with a flip of the wrist.
      it vibrates and shudders, as the blade it does flutter,
      and sparkles and shines at the end of my line.
      it's a good bait, i can't hardly wait,
      to hook a good fish and put him on my plate!


      • I, Too

        I, too, sing America.

        I am the darker brother.
        They send me to eat in the kitchen
        When company comes,
        But I laugh,
        And eat well,
        And grow strong.

        I’ll be at the table
        When company comes.
        Nobody’ll dare
        Say to me,
        “Eat in the kitchen,”

        They’ll see how beautiful I am
        And be ashamed—

        I, too, am America.


        • Forever Young

          All pirates in kind
          kick the can into the night.
          Seconds fall like pearls.


          • There goes Enigma,
            a shadow in pale moonlight.
            His footsteps are calm.


            • As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall do-nor fear any evil
              As I stand at the tops and marvel at mother nature's beautiful rotunda , a bomb of an idea hits me
              If right , I will have a cross to bare , if wrong , behind will be a wood that cares and a rock that dares
              Up above will be a great place to sit and stare and contemplate something with flare


              • This night while I sit and stare
                Thoughts come I know not where
                Obtaining no rest I look for my peace
                Viewing the questing star knowing I cease
                "If you think it could not have been put there, your probably right. f "


                • In the Bay by Algernon Charles Swinburne

                  With 40 stanzas it’s too long to post in entirety- but it brings favor on those curious. There is only one time in this bay:



                  • Add a bit of that lemon pepper
                    get it ready for breakfast, lunch, or supper.
                    I prefer it at breakfast.
                    I prefer not to bring a sandwich but a frying pan.
                    The Pavlovian response is strong, so I do what I can.


                    • Doing what I can,
                      So, is it within what I can?
                      To fly, to ride, to hike,
                      oh, my.
                      Where I've been
                      where I haven't?
                      Aside the prize
                      touching hand in hand
                      all boxed up confined
                      to the land?
                      For a small token
                      which became unspoken,
                      A little pride was given
                      long ago
                      And now a little pride is needed
                      basic small and low.
                      What else is there
                      but an exchange, a deal,
                      a . . . promise so real.
                      Good friends weather every storm
                      and are there from the beginning
                      to the end.
                      There's a deal to send
                      in clear cut paper and pen,
                      and with it a message of love,
                      honor, respect, and the memories
                      that we send from here to eternity.
                      That's what it was about
                      the share of what's dear
                      to each.


                      • Don't forget that I can not see myself, that my role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror
                        - Jacques Rigaut


                        • Hunter's story. Part II.

                          I feel like a soldier who returned home
                          I'll tell you my story. I want it be known.
                          The battle was lost, but not the war
                          I could have won - the luck of the draw.

                          Some minor wounds and major headaches
                          Shell-shocked and frostbitten. Is that what it takes?
                          The price to win my personal war...
                          I do not complain. Not anymore!

                          My major enemies were extremely bold:
                          The rocks, the water, the air and cold
                          In the last battle, I must confess
                          The water and air have kicked my ass

                          I was overpowered, I could do dickens
                          I felt like a trembling blind kittens
                          The rocks and cold so tried to hurt me
                          But in perseverance I have a degree

                          My two great helpers did not let me down
                          First Mr.Wood, then Mr.Brown
                          I knew them well, since my childhood
                          They were my company, they did me good

                          You may not grock the stuff I say...
                          Please, someone tell Forrest: have a wonderful day!