A Showcase For P H Poets: September 2015: Section ‘a’…. [sharing Poems; Not A Contest; Monthly On Bri Edwards’ P H Site]

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

the previous announcement (deleted now) was ‘just a joke’
hi Lora
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I’ve started a ‘showcase’ on my PoemHunter site,
which is NOT a contest; it’s no arena for a fight,
but instead a place where once a month I shall post..
a poem* from you, a PH member, which you’d like read most.

NO title, topic, nor length* do I plan to require.
Just send in a poem to set the PH members on fire.
Send to ‘A Showcase For PH Poets’, care of me.
Let’s show off our stuff, and this also is free!

I was intending this to showcase poems by you, the member,
BUT, heck, send someone else’s ** if you’d like, BUT remember….
to NOT get me involved in copyright disputes, please.
Of course if I were sued, there is NO money from me to squeeze!

(February 28,2015)

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******POEMS MAY BE ‘old’ OR ‘new TO PH and THE WORLD! ” In most cases they will NOT be ‘BORROWED’, though some may be ‘BLUE’.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
CHANGE IN JULY and AUGUST and onward into the future:

Starting in July showcase I plan to list the poets and list their poems in DESCENDING order, starting with the most recent entry. That way, if you visit the showcase more than once, the poets or poems previously near the top of the lists may have descended below more recently entered ones. This should make it easier for the readers I hope, and more likely that ‘newer’ poems will be read.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I hope some of you will decide to share poems in September and also read some [or all] of the submissions.

*I now allow and welcome TWO poems per month from each PH member. At least one of them should be not much longer than 24 lines in length, but I’ll judge each case separately, trying to be fair to all.

So, now for some information about my monthly SHOWCASE for PH poets:

In anticipation of a great response for my first showcase, in February,2015, [I sent notices to about 75 members from my inbox and my list of PH friends], I added to my poem’s title: “section ‘A’ ”, but there MAY never be a “section ‘B’ “. In following months I have likewise “advertised” my upcoming or current showcase on PH.

I plan to submit one of my own short (24 lines or less) poems, and one of my LONG ones (which may go on for a couple of pages) . Therefore, and since I will allow other members to also submit two poems per month [if one is 24 lines or less], I may well add a second, third,4th, etc. ‘section’ so readers will not have to scroll up and down too much to refer to poems and the comments area below the poems. Understand? I hope so. This first ‘section’ is ‘A’ and I shall follow the English alphabet: A, B, C, etc. IF I FEEL A NEED (or desire) TO DO SO.

I also plan to have a LIST OF POETS [whose poem(s) are included in a following section] above the posted poems.

**I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE ALL POEMS BE WRITTEN BY PH MEMBERS, and be submitted by the authors. If you choose to submit a poem by another PH member I will try to verify that the member agrees. Poems attributed to non-members I may want to ask about also.

[PLEASE READ THE POET’S NOTE ALSO FOR MY ‘A SHOWCASE FOR PH POETS’.]

I WILL ALWAYS GIVE THE AUTHOR’S NAME WITH THE POEM POSTED.

My first showcase was in February 2015, and I consider it to be a success, with almost 20 poems to view, from almost as many poets. My thanks go to all contributors! ! This is meant to expose poems and poets to readers and to provide some entertainment and/or enlightenment and/or knowledge to PH members [and I guess non-members who, I think, can also view the poems but not comment].
Some of the poems may not be on the authors’ PH sites. But if you are enthused about a poem, I hope you will visit the poet’s site and read more and leave comments.

Did I forget anything? ?

[[some ages of poets’ may be age+1.
AND I trust the individual poet’s page to give me accurate names/pseudonyms/pen names and countries and gender as well.]] (but I don’t necessarily believe when I see 99 or 100 for a poet’s age!)

[AND I TRY TO keep typos etc. out of the poems, but if I miss some, OR if the poet(s) want(s] their poem(s) added as they/he/she has/have given it/them to me, then I’m NOT going to edit the poem(s) ! ] [In last month’s (August’s) showcase, there were 36 poems from 25? poets.]
[[ Here is the abbreviated “Poets” section from AUGUST’s showcase (AS OF AUGUST 25TH) :

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‘THE POETS’: [from AUGUST’s showcase]

Thirty-six: ELENA PLOTKIN (United States; I’d guess Female; ageless?)
Thirty-five: ABEKAH EMMANUEL (Ghana; Male; 23)
Thirty-four: BRIAN JOHNSTON (United States; Male; 72) (2nd poem)
Thirty-three: BRIAN JOHNSTON (United States; Male; 72) (1st poem)
Thirty-two: BEACH GIRL (United States; Female; 45)
Thirty-one: DOUGLAS SCOTNEY (Australia; Male; 62) (2nd poem)
Thiry: CHARLES DARNELL (United States; Male; 65)
Twenty-nine: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada; Male 😉
Twenty-eight: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; 70) (2nd poem)
Twenty-seven: EUGENE LEVICH (United States; Male; 78) (2nd poem)
Twenty-six: EUGENE LEVICH (United States; Male; 78) (1st poem)
Twenty-five: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; 70)
Twenty-four: AKHTAR JAWAD (Pakistan; Male; 70)
Twenty-three: SAVITA TYAGI (United States; Female; 67)
Twenty-two: GREG DAVIDSON (Australia; Male; 60)
Twenty-one: STEPHEN KATONA (United Kingdom; Male; 45)
Twenty: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67)
Nineteen: VALSA GEORGE (India; Female; 61)
Eighteen: KIM BARNEY (Brazil, via U.S.A.; Male; 100?) (2nd poem)
Seventeen: KIM BARNEY (Brazil, via U.S.A.; Male; 100! hmm?) (1st poem)
Sixteen: GING TAPING (Philippines; Female; 44) (2nd poem)
Fifteen: GING TAPING (Philippines; Female; 44) (1st poem)
Fourteen: M.J. LEMON (Canada; Male; unknown) (2nd poem)
Thirteen: M.J. LEMON (Canada; Male; unknown) (1st poem)
Twelve: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31) (2nd poem)
Eleven: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31) (1st poem)
Ten: DARLENE WALSH (United States; Female; 21)
Nine: IS IT POETRY (United States; Male; 100 hmmm?)
Eight: JAK BLACK (United Kingdom; Male; 41) (2nd poem)
Seven: RUTH WALTERS (United Kingdom; Female; 63) (2nd poem)
Six: RUTH WALTERS (United Kingdom; Female; 63) (1st poem)
Five: RAY HART (Australia; Male; 69)
Four: XELAM KHAN (Pakistan; Male; 96 hmm?)
Three: JAK BLACK (United Kingdom; Male; 41) (1st poem)
Two: DOUGLAS SCOTNEY (Australia; Male; 62) (1st poem)
One: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67) (1st poem)

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HERE WE GO……………SEPTEMBER’S POETS AND POEMS:

THE POETS AND THEIR POEMS …………………(listed in REVERSE ORDER of when I entered them into this showcase) . After the list of poets and their poems you will find the poems. Enjoy!

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“The POETS”:

hi Lora; I’m back
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TWENTY-FIVE: SAVITA TYAGI (United States; Female; 67)

The River Calls Me

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWENTY-FOUR: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67) (2nd poem)

Creation (Maybe Not What You Think) ……[girl-To-Woman; Baby-Making; Long; Relationships]

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWENTY-THREE: DELLA PERRY (United Kingdom; Female; 41) (2nd poem)

Cheated Childhoods

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWENTY-TWO: DELLA PERRY (United Kingdom; Female; 41) (1st poem)

Poetry Widower

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWENTY-ONE: KIM BARNEY (Brazil; Male; ‘100’) (2nd poem)

Which Doctor?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWENTY: KIM BARNEY (Brazil; Male; ‘100’) (1st poem)

The Ugly Brother

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

NINETEEN: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31) (2nd poem)

243. The River Of Life

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

EIGHTEEN: GREG DAVIDSON (Australia; Male; 61)

The Face In The Mirror

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

SEVENTEEN: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31) (1st poem)

244. All I Can See Is You

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

SIXTEEN: RAY HART (Australia; Male; 69)

Under the Willow.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

FIFTEEN: VALSA GEORGE (India; Female: ; 61)

A Desert Trek

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

FOURTEEN: IS IT POETRY (United States; Male; 100..ha ha)

The Lizard

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

THIRTEEN: DARLENE WALSH (United States; Female; 21)

Half A Heart

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TWELVE: RUTH WALTERS (United Kingdom; Female; 63)

September

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

ELEVEN: LORA COLON & BRI EDWARDS (United States; one of each;

old enough! !) (1st for each; an ‘Echo Poem’)

Wetness (an echo poem)

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

TEN: SHAHZIA BATOOL (Pakistan; Female; 43)

My scattered Thoughts

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

NINE: M.J. LEMON (Canada; [see below]) (2nd poem)

Feeling Older

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

EIGHT: M.J. LEMON (Canada; believed to be Male & ‘older’ than

some poets!) (1st poem)

Everyday

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

SEVEN: JJ EVENDON (United Kingdom; Male; 66)

Smile

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Six: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada, via Jamaica and U.K.; Male;

75) (2nd poem)

My New Friend

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Five: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada, via Jamaica and U.K.; Male;

75) (1st poem)

Mothers Are Special!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Four: CHARLES DARNELL (United States; Male; 65)

Yahoo Buckaroo

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Three: AKHTAR JAWAD (Pakistan; Male; 70)

The Ice Cube

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Two: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; 70) (2nd poem)

Longing Still For You

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

One: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; 70) (1st

poem)

Sensual Thoughts (Sharing A Sensual Delight For All Of You)

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“The POEMS”:

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twenty-five: Savita Tyagi

The River Calls Me

In the hours of dusty afternoon when the water is cold and crystal clear
The river calls me.
On the sun baked land the banyan tree stands alone in silent meditation.
Like a mother it seems happy to have some quiet time to itself.
Soon the noisy birds will return in its lap to claim their place for the night’s rest.
Till then it enjoys in solitude its affinity with river.
On the other side of river long green sugarcane leaves dance with soft breeze.
Farmers have left the field for afternoon siesta.
The tree, the sugar cane and I, all are happy to be alone.
Sitting under the tree I watch the water hitting its raised roots.
Restless and agitated as a disturbed mind.
But at distance afar river water looks as calm and translucent as the thoughts of a yogi, Enveloping my mind with its tranquility.
I raise my sari* to my knees and walk slowly in the water.
In the waist deep water the sari cloth spreads like a balloon around me,
Ready to take me on some magical journey.
I make circles in water and hold the cold water in my hands,
Only to watch it drain from my cupped hands.
Here nothing is mine to hold yet every thing is mine for the moment.
I take few steps to sink deep in water to vanish somewhere into its vastness.
The force of water throws me up.
The river laughs-
Lay no claim to the yonder!
For fear of unknown I go no further.
My feet lose the grip of sandy bottom to let me float on the surface.
The cold water takes away all my tensions.
It makes me feel like a child finding joy in its surroundings.
How long I stayed in water- I don’t know.
Time the creation of movement lost its value for a while.
Oblivious to the world below, the master of life’s rhythm
Moves forward in its westward journey, spreading its orange glow in the sky.
It must be following a higher command.
Rested and rejuvenated I come out of water.
As I walk towards home holding my wet sari
I watch my sand covered feet leaving some impressions on sandy soil
Knowing fully that in due time my faint footprints shall disappear.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Savita’s *Note – Sari is an attire of women in India and many south east Asian nations.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twenty-four: Bri Edwards

Creation (Maybe Not What You Think) ……[girl-To-Woman; Baby-Making; Long; Relationships]

Preteen socialization;
Her first menstruation;
Mom’s explanation;
Girl’s apprehension;
Girl’s imagination.

Bra initiation;
Boys paying more attention;
Her girlfriend conversation;
Self-examination;
Apprehension;
Excitation.

First Communion;
Mom’s admonition;
Classroom flirtation;
Diary notation;
Awkward situation.

Softball competition;
Scholastic concentration;
Pimple medication;
Eye examination;
Eyeglasses prescription;
Eyeglasses selection.

Teenage titillation;
Girlfriend’s revelation;
Girl’s excitation;
Girl’s apprehension.

Junior Prom invitation;
Buy boy a carnation;
Night of anticipation;
Perspiration;
Parent’s escortation;
Close-dancing sensation.

More scholastic concentration.

Mother/daughter European vacation;
College campus visitations;
High school senior year expectations;
SAT examinations;
College applications.

Senior Ball invitation;
Car date anticipation;
Mom’s admonition;
Ball dress and hairdo selection;
Softball home plate collision;
Left leg in traction;
No Senior Ball action;
Frustration (but relaxation) .

College acceptance and selection;
Awards presentation;
High school graduation.

Gyn examination;
NO birth control prescription;
(Mom’s admonition) .

Cornell U. orientation;
Campus church affiliation;
Choir participation;
Scholastic concentration;
Ignoring boys’ flirtations;
Avoiding temptations.

Junior year sorority invitation;
Apprehension;
Excitation;
Sorority initiation.

Fraternity party invitation;
First inebriation;
Fondling and excitation;
Close call situation.

Senior year Dean’s List selection;
Trouble resisting temptation;
Weekly Catholic confession sessions;
Summa cum laude graduation.

Law school acceptance and selection;
Legal studies concentration;
Study group participation.

Widowed law professor’s attentions;
Girl’s uncontrollable fascination;
Gyn exam; birth control prescription;
Dinner invitation.

Wining and dining and speculation;
Apprehension and excitation;
Her first penetration.

Good times but no marriage mentions.

Graduation;
Law professor’s recommendation;
Interview with law firm partners; her apprehension;
She accepts the firm’s job invitation.

Two years hard work; no hesitation;
Pride in work; first promotion.

Christmas office party introduction;
Instant mutual physical attraction;
Lively conversation;
Mutual admiration;
Exchange phone and email information;
Same night brief phone connection.

Three months of weekend recreation;
Taking turns at restaurant selection;
Sharing their pasts recollections.

Three day weekends to make parent introductions;
Each time a pleasant reception;

Overnight his & her visitations;
Agreement to try cohabitation;
His place one week; her place next week; a rotation;
A jointly agreed move to new location.

Three months more of smooth transition;
She stops using birth control prescription;
Their second shared Christmas celebration.

He buys a ring in anticipation;
Ovulation.

New Year’s Eve in their new habitation;
Pizza and beer; slight inebriation;
Cuddling on couch; relaxation;
Watching fireworks with fascination.

Bedtime preparation;
NO anticipation;
Bare skin touching brings sensations;
Sensations become explorations;
No need for forced stimulation;
She finds his full erection,
and presents her open invitation.

Excitation; natural lubrication;
Penetration;
Copulation;
Perspiration;
Brief exclamations;
Ejaculation;
His exhaustion;
Her satisfaction.

New Years resolutions;
Her anticipation.

Fertilization (conception) ? ? ;
Implantation? ? ;
Cell division? ?
Creation? ?

Drug store visitation;
Home testing for procreation;
Positive color indication;
Call for Ob-Gyn examination;
Waiting for doctor’s corroboration.

Valentine’s Day dinner reservation;
Candlelit dinner in quiet location;
Dessert and check presentation;
She speaks first, announcing her ‘condition’;
…………………………………………………………
He beams at her a smile of great admiration;
She breathes a sigh of relaxation;
Holding hands as they sample sweet confections.

Check paid, they sit in contemplation;
Now he makes HIS presentation;
A sparkling diamond; a second creation;
She accepts proposal with teary emotion;
Their fingers entwine with devotion;
DOUBLE celebration.

Parents notified; what a commotion! !

To-have-baby-before-wedding; their joint decision;
Plans for baby’s room is a vision;
Doctor visits; sonogram examinations;
Naming-and-raising-a-baby books consultations.

Otherwise his & her work & play routine continuation.

Mom-to-be’s nutrition;
No inebriation;
Anticipation;
Names selection;
Couples’ Lamaze classes for relaxation.

One-month-to-go excitation;
Two-weeks-to-go her mom comes for visitation;
Three-days-to-go strange bedtime sensation;
Phone call to doctor; to-hospital-decision.

Drive to hospital: first REAL contractions;
Amniotic fluid soaks padded car seat cushion.

To labor room; beginnings of dilation;
Intravenous fluid line insertion;
Assuming the ‘frog-legs’ position.

Perineum preparation;
‘Mom’ does practice inhalations and exhalations;
‘Dad’ stays though craving caffeine injection.

Arrival of the obstetrician;
Dilation progression.

Baby in correct position;
No foreseen complication;
Clock hands in motion;
Baby’s head presentation.

‘Mom’s’ time for exertion;
Dilation; contraction;
Dilation; contraction;
Contraction; dilation;
Inhale and exhalation;
Perspiration;
Expectation;
Contraction;
Inhalation;
Pushing exertion;
Repetition;
Perspiration.

Getting close now; concentration;
End of nine months preparation;
Perspiration;
Doctor asks for last BIG exertion.

Out pops baby;
Doctor’s congratulations;
It’s a GIRL.
Dad’s and Mom’s exhilaration;
Wiping off the perspiration;
Parents beam with satisfaction;
Elation! !
CREATION! ! !

(Dec.2012)

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Twenty-three: Della Perry

Cheated Childhoods

Cheated of childhood
Sharks ripped a toddler to shreds
Screamed at the paternal threads were sliced.
A tiny egg, cracked apart,
Blood seeping around an unformed bird
One large, grey eye
Minute body
A little tail.
So much like the human fetus, unborn
Cheated of childhood.
Regrets abound, a prayer
Teenage years untold
Unread, unedited.
An adult weeping in bed
So much left unsaid.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twenty-two: Della Perry

Poetry Widower

The kitchen is rank
Dishes soaking in cold water
Tea stained spoons, coffee stained mugs
Carpet is dusted in dog hair, a snowfall of white
Cobwebs, spiders and dust live in crevices
Floors need mopping
Sides need some elbow grease
Drinks would be nice?
Or maybe some supper?
After a hard days graft!
How about some kisses, or a bit of loving?
The kids seem okay, they think it is heaven
Toys and games strewn around rooms.
Poetry has kidnapped the wife
‘Poems don’t write themselves, you know! ‘
She says with a happy grin.
Maya has a lot to answer for!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twenty-one: by Kim Barney

Which Doctor?

I went to see the doc today;
He gave me just six months to live,
But when my bill I could not pay,
Another six months did he give.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twenty: by Kim Barney

The Ugly Brother

When I see my brother
we like to call each other
ugly just for fun. Of course,
he’s very handsome.
I’m the ugly one.

He sez, you bin taken them ugly pills again
and I say well, I only took two but you musta taken ten!
Then I say you look like you bin whupped wit a ugly stick
and he sez I wuz but it din’t take, but wit you it did the trick!
Then he sez when you wuz bein’ born they thot you wuz breech,
and well, after you come out they still couldn’t tell!
Then I say when you wuz born you wuz so ugly
the doctor done slapped our mama!
Then he sez is that your face
or a map of Yokohama?

Then we both laugh and hug each other
because I really love my brother.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Bri’s note: beware of Kim’s peculiar English! ha ha. 🙂
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Nineteen: by John Westlake

243. The River Of Life

Will you travel with me
along the banks of the river of life
not as a superior or inferior being
but as one equal to me

Will you marvel at the way the water flows
leaping joyfully over the rocks
as each second passes swiftly by
each droplet a life in its own right
both human and animal

No tides exist in this place
it only will go one way
once a rock is missed you can’t go back
you must jump it as best you can
as you will never be in the same place long

Would you cast a stone
in the hope of disrupting the flow
only to learn it will not work
you will only create barriers for your self

When it splits in two which way will you go
will you end up in the stinking marsh pools
where all is foul and horrible
or will you fall down the fantastic waterfalls
and end up in the peaceful lake
where all is wonderful

Will you travel with me though this life
in friendship and respect
no matter where we will go to
we all will have got there in the end

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Eighteen: by Greg Davidson

THE FACE IN THE MIRROR

Who is it that in the mirror I see?
When have the crows so heavily trod that way?
No barber’s challenge here to justify his fee,
Just thinning hair and beard of grey.

Now my father stares at me,
His, my likeness does replace.
No rebuke, just empathy.
Did he once see his father’s face?

As I use my comb in search of hair,
I ponder – When I have gone my way,
Will my son see my face there?
And I wonder what he may say.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Seventeen: by John Westlake

244. All I Can See Is You

There are over 100 people in this room
all of them in brightly coloured clothes
but all I can see is you
in your dark blue dress with flowers in your hair
looking back at me and smiling

There are over 100 people in this room
all of them talking loudly
but all I can hear is your voice
asking me how I feel

There are over 100 people in this room
offering me pointless presents
but all I can see is you
offering me your heart and love
to me the greatest gifts of all

There are over 100 people in this room
all of whom are trying to touch me in some way
but all I can feel is your arms
holding me close to you

There are over 100 people in this room
celebrating our wedding day
but I have eyes for none of them
all I can see is you

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Sixteen: by Ray Hart

Under the Willow.

Under the willow my love and I,
Dense foliage hiding us from the sky.
A tender kiss in the shadow dark,
We are given to our shadowy ark.

I cradle her head in the crook of my arm,
We knit fingers palm to palm.
Lips taste each others charms,
In distant meadow a farmer farms.

Now we walk a shaded lane of gold leaf,
One wonders if our love will be bouquet or wreath.
If life long thing it is to be,
Surely it is up to my love and me.

These days my mind constantly strays,
To our beginning days.
There she was in her uniform of green,
Every young man’s sweetest dream.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Fifteen: by Valsa George

A Desert Trek

Climbing up the steep n’ rocky paths
We were struck by the beauty of the mountains
With their towering summits
Kissing the seams of the heavens

Beyond, sprawled endless stretch of sand!
With the sun going down in the west,
The surroundings were blazed in amber light
And the whole land lay in a magic spell cast

We were heading to our camp in the desert
Part of a trek, planned months in advance
After trudging several miles on foot
The rest we covered in a wagon got by chance

The desert greeted us like a warm host.
After the blistering heat of the day,
The night had turned pleasantly cool
Promising us the boon of a delectable stay

The sky had turned black and inky
But the moon had arced high over head
Casting a metallic glow of light
Turning the rocks into a shade of chrome red

The sands seemed radiant and beckoning
There, around a camp fire, in a circular pattern we sat
From far it looked a glowing scarlet pyre
Often the wind passed the burning faggots with a pat

The whirling and wheeling current of air
Drew and redrew, etched and erased,
Shifting patterns in the desert sand,
As an inspired artist with perfection crazed

Sitting beneath the star studded sky
We sang and danced, inhaling the desert air
Forgetting the world of strife left behind
Merging into a space eerie but fair

As the wind blew wild, sometimes running amok,
Blinding our eyes with dust and sand,
We helped each other blow off the grain
And shielded our eyes with the hand

Sand dunes peeked here and there
And a caravan of camels with bells in their neck
Was crossing the length of sands stretching infinite
Carrying turbaned riders on their humpy back

Beside the small shelf of a tawny rock
We saw a host of cacti in splendid flower,
Desert blooms looming in arid space
And elf owls roosting under cover

The wide stretch, dry and sterile
Lay vast and mysterious in the luminous night
Sometimes we felt as if lost in a land abstruse
That extended before us beyond all boundary and limit

Amid the billowing smoke, rising skyward
And the sound of crackling tinder
We stretched our eyes over many a mile
Of that ‘terra incognita’ in rising wonder

If there is jocund company, even here
There can be so much fun and life!
Squatting on haunches and sipping hot tea
We sat round the campfire, forgetting all earthly strife.

It was indeed a tour of discovery,
Into the heart of a fathomless sea of sand
Man has ever been a relentless explorer
The lure of the mysterious, he can never withstand!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Bri’s note: i prefer dessert treks, but this poem is great also.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Fourteen: by Is It Poetry

The Lizard

is it not ‘Erotic’
what i’m
writing
here to you
that if
you
make me
stop it
i will
have to tell
on you
and
if they hear
you ‘cry’
then i
may never
come
again
but
if i let you stay
and you
are looking
out
my window
do you see
that
lizard over there
on that
tree
and what
it’s doing.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Thirteen: by Darlene Walsh

Half A Heart

Why was I caught in your light
My dim candle had become so bright
And only you could fill my sight
Giving all to you was so right

And then I learned the real truth
The lies of all I knew since my youth
I could see like shouting from a roof
Your bold lies screaming their proof

You have stolen the light from my eyes
Leaving half a heart to ask the Whys?
Walking half alive through the day
Since I’ve learned you did more than stray

Your false love has torn me apart
How could I have let it start
Our ring has burned through the bone
My finger is writhing on a stone

My spirit lies bleeding on the floor
While my courage walked out the door
Half my heart ran out in the street
And my blood poured out like sleet

And you want me to come back for more
Your bloody hand knocking on the door
The knife in my back still rings cold
How can you be so false and bold?

I regret the day we lovingly kissed
My blind eyes never knew what they missed
And you want me to come back for more
While your back hand tickles your whore

Half my heart has lodged in the sink
With my bloody breath rising pink
And you want to come back to me
How stupid do you think I can be

My half life has grown stronger
And you can’t have me any longer
The heart you broke has no key
So you can never come back to me

So you can never come back to me

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Twelve: by Ruth Walters

September

September glows
as summer closes to an Autumn dawn.
She tricks minds to believing
spring is still upon us
but her red and golden leaves
leave no doubt.

Shorter days and longer nights,
chill the air
as retailers stock up with
woollens and darker colours
depicting winter.

The odd warm day teases
as balmy as a summer breeze
blowing soft, baby kisses
but by the time the last day falls
we know October’s frost is out to nip
and spring is long lost dream

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Bri’s note: Ruth assures this ‘colonist’ that ‘woollens’ is the way the English spell ‘woolens’. 🙂
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Eleven: An echo poem composed of: ‘Let It Rain’ by Lora C. &

‘That Ain’t Rain’ by Bri E.

Wetness

1- Let It Rain!

You say and do the little things
A woman never forgets;
And when it rains, I smile when you say
‘It’s raining violets’

You hold me close and calm my fears
When we speak of plans and schemes;
And when the storm breaks through the clouds,
I know… it’s raining dreams!

Your words of love circle ’round my head
Like a childrens’ carousel;
You say the rain is nurturing life –
Assuring me all is well

Now, come, my love, tell me the truth,
Storms often do bring distress;
‘Yes’, you say, ‘but as long as you’re mine,
It’s raining happiness! ‘

2. That Ain’t Rain! !

I may not always hear too well,
but lest you, in the future, forget ….
when you think you hear the rain,
it’s just the cranky …..Toto toilet!

Ok, I sometimes hold you close,
and you fear I have some schemes,
but when I’m at my crankiest ….
it’s only due to my bottle ….of Jim Beam.

So you thought mine were words of “love”!
Well, you’d better check your head.
It’s not my heart which makes me say them;
I’m just trying to get you (with me) in bed! !

Now, come woman, tell me the truth.
You really knew what you were……getting.
As long as I’m “yours” and you’re …”mine”,
it isn’t rain. It’s just me….on you, sweating.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Bri’s note: Lora suggested this after i responded to her poem. We both (I think) learned about echo poems from Brian Johnston. 🙂
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Ten: by Shahzia Batool

My Scattered Thoughts

A bird cannot be denied a waft of breeze,
a falcon flight and a fish flow,
a child has to smile without any logic,
a flower has no choice but to bloom,
autumn is not nature’s dirge,
it is just autumn that makes the smiling year desirable,
still spring is about to take us over
with shades n fragrance, sounds n sights…
death defines life,
life is a safari, a camel ride on a motorway,
a spectrum with all shades of grey emitting,
but grey is not unwelcome too;
dreams make reality hard to accept…
God loves me more by frustrating my earnest prayers,
yes, He loves my voice too (what a complete consolation!) ..
I shouldn’t have gone to the mosque
to seek Him when I knew Him
equally n strongly to be inside my heart…
Will He never grant my prayers if He keeps loving my voice?
What to do with the age old African dictum,
‘ if a man says yes, his Chi says yes too’
but what if a man says yes and still his Chi stays silent?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Nine: by M.J.LEMON

Feeling Older

When it’s cold outside
Put on something warm
and take it for a walk
if that’s possible

Ask for help if you need it
Or people may look at you funny
and wonder out loud why
you didn’t just stay home

If you can’t stand up straight
You will suffer with a bad back
And that’s worse than any problem
You may have now

Don’t rush because
You can’t and thinking otherwise
is nothing more than a guarantee
of convalescence

Time to take a breath!
No?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Eight: by M.J.Lemon

Everyday

If I could go back and
do it again I would change nothing
is something I would now never say

How well you blended
with perfection
the simplest of designs
an unassuming complexion

What others said about everyday
I accepted, a default,
without question, my plain sight
the plaything of digression

Regret remorse fault
gifts only time can impart
something now I am able to say

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Seven: by Jj Evendon

Smile

I see a lady smile
is it for me
or her daughter?
Intoxicating.
Radiant.
All thoughts captured by a singularity of expression.
A natural display of happiness and joy.
An authoress of many words.
For me, there’s just one:
friend or lover?
I’m not sure! ! ! !
Only time has the answer.
So I wait and smile back!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Six: by Clarence Prince

My New Friend!

I have got a little story
Which I’d like to tell
It is here within me
Just ringing like bell

I told it to Auntie Dell
Who lives nearby the well
She said, it should sell
But, others I must tell

Hence, it’s about a friend
Whom I’ve lately found
He is from out of town
With lots of love abound

So, goodbye old friends
My new pal’s on my mind
He knows the way to life
With Him there’s no strife

Good and pleasant is He
Holding the light to life
You can feel free to guess
Who you think He is

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Five: by Clarence Prince

Mothers Are Special!

Seeing it’s drawing near to Mother’s Day
I’ll dare you all to honour your mothers
So brother honour your mother
Sister honour your mother
Friend honour your mother

They deserve to be loved
They deserve to be praised
Let’s do as much as we can
For them as long as they live
Knowing we only get them once

And not many of us are blessed
To have mothers who lasted long
Then if you love not your mother
That is something really wrong
Try giving your mother a love call

Your picture maybe on her wall
Three loud cheers for all mothers
Happy Mother’s day, Mothers
Mothers are not just good friends
Our mothers – they are very special

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Four: by Charles Darnell

Yahoo Buckaroo

‘Yahoo buckaroo! ‘
Your bare butt bouncing
To the clop of your cowboy boots,
Six guns high in the air!
“Where’s your pants boy? ”
But you hear the laugh behind gruff words
And grin madly, running back down the hall.

I jump up to catch you,
But you’ve already peeled out
The driveway,
One hand on the wheel,
The other waving crazily,
Off on a hot one tonight.

You get back late
Loosening that tie
To plop yourself on the couch,
Only to feel the weight of your own
Buckaroo jumping right on your belly
With a wild giggle,
And your breath is almost gone,

But before old Death
Walks off with it,
You reach out with your six gun and yell,
“Yahoo buckaroo! ”
And give him one,
Right between the eyes!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Three: by Akhtar Jawad

The Ice Cube

On the dining table I see a bottle of wine,
Me! Water in a tray of molds
kept in a freezer,
At every moment I am colder,
Why do you open the door of a freezer,
You can’t keep me away from my fate,
I saw you, too late,
Let me freeze in the crystals of ice cubes,
Get me out of the tray,
With your colorful nails,
Put me on your palm for a while,
I‘ll kiss your palm,
Pour the wine in the glass of passion,
And let me swim in the wine,
See me dissolving step by step,
But before I am completely dissolved,
Have a few sips,
I’ll kiss your lips,
I’ll enter into you,
I shall appear in your passions,
And when the Venus will meet her Mars,
The joy of coupling will be shared by the cube.
It’s not ego sweetheart!
It’s wisdom of old age!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Two: by Melvina Germain

Longing Still For You

I kiss your soothing picture,
before I lay me down to sleep.
Your warmth penetrates me,
in the depth of my soul, I’ll keep.

So intoxicated with your memory,
overwhelmed with precious thoughts.
You are the buds of sweet flowers,
and the bouquet of forget me nots.

Finding you dancing in the meadow,
patrolling the rich, velvet of green.
In life’s illustrious, ambient beauty,
of a refreshing new day scene.

No, you will never be forgotten,
it’s simply not in my heart to do.
Your image has become a part of me,
I’m still so much in love with you.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Bri’s note: I don’t see this on Melvina’s poem pages, but that’s ok! 🙂

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

One: by Melvina Germain

Sensual Thoughts (Sharing A Sensual Delight For All Of You)

In an evening’s bliss beneath sky’s midnight blue,
my darling my thoughts are intoxicated by you.
Will you delight your mind, and always appreciate me
bathe in my sweet aroma, dance in my royal sea.
Precious words my dear, I’ll pen the wildest letter
send a blaze of fire, perhaps you’ll like that better.
You can call me and listen to sensual lines on the phone
during cool nights when you’re sitting quiet all alone,
or you can touch me beneath the amber light of a tranquil space
invisibly see the glitter in my eyes, the sensual smile on my face.
Delight me, my sweetheart by gazing intently at my being,
while softly echoing, O baby you’re the best I’ve ever seen
O let your mouth lie as much as your tongue will allow
as I kiss you sweetly on your soft lips and your brow.
Explore me in the deep valley of my longing flesh
may this Heavenly night continually refresh.

================================= ================

DEAR members: I may be out of town and away from PH for much of September (or not) . That is one reason I am announcing and soliciting poems for September’s showcase so early.
I want time to get some poems in before I am whisked away by Secret Service agents to assist President Obama as he tries to deal properly with difficult situations worldwide. While away (if I AM away for more than a week) I have lined up some close PH friends to help run things at my usual home-base. The following members will be doing the following for me:

Valsa George: bringing the mail into the house and answering the invitations to premiers and galas around the world, and forwarding bills to Brian Johnston. Thanks, Valsa.
Brian Johnston: paying the bills …………………..with HIS money. Thanks, Brian.
Darlene Walsh: mowing the lawn (not that lawns need mowing in drought-stricken California! ! !) Thanks, Darlene. The bushes need a bit of trimming also. 😉
Eugene Levich: answering letters from my (and his) publisher: Harvard (High School) Press. Thanks, Gino.
John Westlake: guarding the property from unwanted visitors, human and otherwise. Thanks, Pr