A Showcase For P H Poets: D E C E M B E R 2015: Section ' C '...[11th Monthly Showcase Of Poems; This Section For 'medium' Length 2nd Or Late-Arriving Poems ] Poem by Bri Edwards

The poems in December's Section C will be poems generally over 12 lines long but less than 51 lines long, AND they will be the 2nd one of that length submitted this month by 'the poet', OR they will be solo poems of that length by the 'poet', but they will have been submitted rather late in the month ………….., whatever that shall mean to ME!

Bri :)

Enjoy!

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THE POETS

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NINE: ? ?




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EIGHT: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31)

093. I'm Sorry That I'm Ugly

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SEVEN: SAVITA TYAGI (United States; Female; 67)


Diary Inscription II
12.12.2015

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SIX: JAK BLACK (United Kingdom; Male; 41)

The Wannabe

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FIVE: EUGENE LEVICH (United States; Male; 78)

'Met'aphorically Speaking - (The 2015 Baseball World Series)

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FOUR: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67)

The REAL Snail Mail

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THREE: DELLA PERRY (United Kingdom; Female; 41)

Songbird

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TWO: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada; Male; 75)

Just For Mothers!

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ONE: WES VOGLER (Canada; Male; 85)

The Flawed Antique Watch

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THE POEMS

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NINE: ? ?



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EIGHT: by John Westlake


093. I'm Sorry That I'm Ugly

I'm sorry that I'm ugly
never had a chance or a wish
to be anything else
it's not by my choice
or anyone else's decision
it just happened that way

I'm failing to control
how anyone reacts
to what I say about anything
or even to what happens next
but then when did I want to
I've never been a control freak

People try to utilize my thoughts
so suit themselves
trouble is they never get it right
do they not know
that it never works that way

I hear people talk about me
behind my back
as if I can't hear what they say
they don't know what to think
coz I don't fit the mold

Just accept me as I am
I know I'm fat and ugly
maybe even stupid sometimes
but I don't even care
and I don't even know
why I should apologize to any one
because I am only myself

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SEVEN: by Savita Tyagi


Diary Inscription II
12.12.2015

When memory starts to fail you…..

If you want to know what my memory is like
Think of a ocean with its shallow waters and its depth.
Millions of fishes living in those dark deep waters,
But for my eyes just a couple of them would surface;
Before I could reach out to touch them, all would disappear!
This is how my memory is in catching the words,
Phrases or some long lost ghostly existences!
All arise from no where tempting me to
Leave my work at hand and pic my iPad.
But poor me so slow and careless,
Standing by shallow waters desperate
To hold on to something only to watch it evaporate
Evaporate like my breath.... getting lost in thin air!
What stays with me is just a sigh and a awareness
An impression of something so dear, so vivid and so pleasant
It seems to say: you can't catch or share me with others!
But I am still here like a smile of your face
A happy awareness just to please you......

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SIX: by Jak Black


The Wannabe

I wannabe your lucky star
To watch over you from high.
I wannabe a moonbeam,
A'dancing on your eye.

I wannabe that happy thought,
That brings a ray of hope.
I wannabe those slippery suds,
When you wash with Lifebuoy soap.

I wannabe your rosary,
Held gently in your palm.
I wannabe your dashing knight
To keep you from all harm.

I wannabe the pillow soft,
To rest your weary pate.
I wannabe your lifelong friend,
But guess I'm rather late.

I wannabe the fondest memory,
That draws the sweetest smile
I wannabe your shadow sharp
And tag along a while.

I wannabe your whispered sigh,
And when you say finally,
'I need to open up my heart.'
I wannabe the key.

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Bri's note: Jak, I bet you make the U.K. women swoon! :)

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FIVE: by Eugene Levich


'Met'aphorically Speaking - (The 2015 Baseball World Series)

'Baseball is a metaphor for life, '
Saith Kohelith.
'No, life is a metaphor for baseball; '
Thus spake Zarathustra.

As in life,
So in baseball,
Everything can change
In a moment.
Glee becomes sorrow
In an instant;
Despair turns to elation
In the blink of an eye.

It's all 'Met'aphysical:
Maybe next year!
'Ya gotta believe! '
'Go Mets! '

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FOUR: by Bri Edwards


The REAL Snail Mail … [Medium; animal kingdom; copyright law? ; to whom it may concern; humor? ]

To Whom …..at US Postal Service …….it may concern:
At a board meeting I was recently troubled to learn …..
that you've gotten credit for creating 'Snail Mail'.
Please cease and desist, …..'or else'……, without fail!

Your carriers are much larger than those we've got,
but to claim YOU created Snail Mail is a dirty shot ……at ….
our employees of the USSPS, human sir or human madam.
Why, we've been in the delivery service MUCH longer. Since Adam!

[USSPS is, of course, the United Snail and Slug Postal Service.]

Yes, we snails DO know about your Bible garden story.
One of our scholars read the book. [Some parts were gory.]
She, the scholar, munched her way from cover to cover,
and that night, in a dream, she claims she did discover …..
that she remembered each word!

You have trucks, and planes for Express mail shipment.
We snails have no such fancy and expensive equipment,
but WE deliver 365 days a year, to be sure, rain OR shine.
We deliver to high peaks and the bottom of at least one mine.

Oh, yes, we have perfected the REAL Snail Mail!
We may be slow, but our carriers RARELY do fail ……..
to deliver! !
And (with birds and snakes wanting a snack) that's no small feat.
WE created THE real Snail Mail. That I WILL repeat:
WE DID IT FIRST, and the name belongs to USSPS. Yes, US!
NOT USPS, but US, the snails and slugs! ! There need be no fuss......
…….about this little misunderstanding. BUT I caution you:
We've outstanding staff attorneys, and......… NOT JUST A FEW!

Sincerely,
Slippery Sam Slug
Chief Legal Counsel
United Snail and Slug Postal Service

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THREE: by Della Perry


Songbird

Ivy drapes the gravestones of the forgotten while
Flowers adorn the remembered ones
Within the church grounds
Towering oaks stand guard as rooks cry out in anguish, lost souls
Who float far on warm currents of air.
Kneeling down in sodden grass I feel you there
A subtle smell, faint touch of my hair
Fallen teardrops mix with the dew from sad eyes
There were never any proper goodbyes...
Hark, a flutter in my broken heart
Wry smile on thoughtful lips,
Is that a calming hand on my shoulder blade?
Gazing from the perch amongst heart-shaped leaves
A tiny songbird seems to save the day
He cocks his head in recognition, sings a melody so sweet,
Just for me
The dawn chorus, just as we listened to it so many times together
At the kitchen table across hot cups of sweet tea.
I felt as though you were there today,
Maybe that little songbird was you?
And though you are gone, from touch, I thanked God that I knew you
That I held you in hot embrace and loved you
I placed a kiss on your headstone and nodded a 'Thank You' to the songbird
As I stumbled slowly away, until next time my love
Until another day.

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TWO: by Clarence Prince


Just For Mothers!

There are mothers here
There are mothers there
There are mothers near
And there are mothers far
Large mothers
Small mothers
Tall mothers
And short mothers
There are many good mothers
There are few merciless mothers
But to those mothers who are cheerful and careful
Of taking care of the child or children that they bear
Know that they are wished God's richest blessings
Which they deserve right from the start
And so from deep within my heart
Upon the day known as Mother's Day
Blessings be to mothers for their caring
Proud to say I have had a good mother
Who had given me the best of loving cared
Take advice and think dearly of all mothers
For it's by a dear mother came our Saviour
She gave birth to her gracious precious Son
Namely our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
Who died upon Calvary's Cross in saving us
And so blessings I wish to all loyal mothers
Hence on this day known as Mother's Day
Permit mothers to have their way today
Enjoy a loving happy Mother's Day
Mothers!

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ONE: by Wes Vogler


The Flawed Antique Watch

He was the owner of an antique watch that had the flaw
of missing every other beat. He took it to an English
watchsmith who declared it hopeless. Then to a
Frenchman who shrugged and handed it back.

The Swiss checked the movement
And still no improvement.
This made him skittish.
After all, he was British.
Away, then for further behoovement.

Off to Germany, this miniature clock,
To a monocled man. (hair in shock)
Typical of his race,
He glared at its face...
'Ve haff ways of making you TOCK! '

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Bri's note: I could have squeezed this into Section A, but Wes has enough smaller poems (limericks) to fill his monthly quota there.

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Please see Sections A, B, and C as well. :) bri