October 2018 Showcase..[ Poems, Poems, Poets, Poets; Sharing Some Of My Favorites With You ] Poem by Bri Edwards

A -BRI'S INTRODUCTORY POEM:

It's mid-September and the pressure is mounting,
‘cause I KNOW, on me, Bri, you ALL are still counting to place joy, nay, rapture amidst your dull drudgery,
e.g. caring for partner, kids, & old folks, aka your ……family!

And/or some may even WORK for a living, & not at …
WRITING,
but at banking, baking, driving, diving. So Exciting …
can be "work", yet at times definitely it AIN'T!
However most need to work to eat, so as NOT to..…FAINT!

BUT "man shall NOT live by ‘bread' alone", one said,
so I'll strive to entertain you until I, Bri, am DEAD,
................................................
….............which may happen tomorrow or PERHAPS EVEN....
......toda……


(September …16th …..2018)

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B -INFORMATION ABOUT A SHOWCASE:

To those unfamiliar with my ‘showcases' …[usually monthly events on my PH site, found in my list of
poems]], …feel free to make inquiries and/or seek out previous showcases; some showcases I have ‘deactivated' recently i.e. ‘hidden' from viewing, but they remain in my poem list.I DO change formats at times.I plan to pick October's showcase poems from poems already in MyPoemList on PH.

No preference is meant (usually)to be shown to POETS due to gender, ethnicity, political leaning ……[[but CAN American "Republicans politicians" write poems that are ………..…good enough? ?Are any even literate? ? ]] …., age, or nationality.

Furthermore, no preference is meant (usually)to be shown to POEMS due to topic(S) , length, "form", attitude of the poet (whatever that means) , OR EVEN the language used e.g. English, Russian, Mandarin, Hindi, Spanish, …….though an English translation is HIGHLY desired.VERY HIGHLY! !

I ALWAYS leave the poet a poem comment notifying her/him of my intention to steal ….i mean BORROW……..a poem for a showcase.And I (now)ALWAYS give the name of the poet (3 times I think)AND the full text of each poem.

Proofreading and grammar etc. is the responsibility of the Poets, though I KNOW PH sometimes ‘plays' with poems by changing a capital letter to a lower case/small letter, and sometimes by deleting spaces between words/sentences! ! !And PH also sometimes deletes/'censors-out' words they don't
‘like' such as some sexual words or words which hint of a website address; they don't even allow the word ‘o n l i n e' in a poem! ! ....[[each ‘showcase' is treated like one HUGE poem, by PH]]….I urge poets to proofread their poems AFTER[[AS WELL AS BEFORE]]submitting.

I encourage readers to go to the Poets' sites to read these and other Poems and to comment as well.

I thank all ‘contributors' of poems and/or of comments.THANKS!

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C -ARRANGEMENT OF THE REST OF THE SHOWCASE WHICH FOLLOWS:

FIRST, I give a list of the Poets names and Poems' titles.

SECOND, I give a list of the Poems, including the Poets' names (again)and the texts.I also sometimes give all or part of the Poet's Notes from poem pages, …AND I sometimes leave a Bri's Notes as well.

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D -CLOSING REMARKS BY bri edwards [that's ME].


The POETS' NAMES and their POEMS' TITLES:

a - Douglas Scotney
B: Xxxxv: Measured Response

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
b - Nika McGuin
The Vulture's Pet

c - Perdita Young
My Adorable Wife

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
d - RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Life's Black Curtains

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
e - Stuart Munro
Mr. Tap And Smiling Snail

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
f - Geraldine Kelly
Let The Dust Settle -

g - Jez Brul
Sometimes In Your Quiet Moment

h - Sally Plumb Plumb
A Humorous Death

i - susette varga
A Goodbye Text

j - Loke Kok yee
Valentine At Seventy (Humour)

k - Valentin Savin, translator
78 сонет Шекспира

l - Andy Brookes
A Cats Paw
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The POEMS, their TITLES, their AUTHORS, & their complete TEXTS
a - B: Xxxxv: Measured Response - Poem by Douglas Scotney

B: Xxxxv: Measured Response
'Charming, windless days and nights...'
Are what I said I'd like
When winter came and asked.

(I wouldn't give it the smug satisfaction
of knowing how it stirs my mind
and how I hate the cold.)

'...and happiness with cuddling.'

(Not freedom from crime
world peace, mental stability
and absence of grime.)


Bri's Notes:
Ok, now we know who to blame for our continued "crime", lack of "world peace", lack of "mental stability", AND "grime"! !
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b - The Vulture's Pet - Poem by Nika McGuin

The Vulture's Pet
There was once a pretty young lady
She waked around with her head bowed
Portraying a meekness, mild, and humble
Terribly unaware of her presence in the world

But she had a vulture at her side
Who saw everything she couldn't
He saw her strengths, her beauty
But he also saw her weaknesses

A good vulture never misses an opportunity
So his mother had always taught him
And the girl had something he deeply coveted
Unknowingness made her all the more vulnerable

It knew just where to pick and peck
With its beak it ripped away at the layers
Of her self-image and self-esteem, already lost
At his side she was becoming more lost still

She could sense something wasn't right
Beneath the surface, the way he made her feel:
Less than, inadept, never good enough, wrong!
All of the picking and pecking finally struck a nerve

Rid of him! - was what she wanted to be
But somehow he always found a way
To appear guiltless, to be the victim
His act was always the same

Oh! but those two beady black eyes shone
With such a light of sincerity - almost believable
The vulture hunched his brown feathered shoulders
And earnestly swore its loyalty would always endure

She so wanted to believe him
They'd once been such good friends, it's true
She thought of all the years; all the good times
How has the vulture I know now grown so different?

Sentimentality, a virtue all vultures lack
Sadly, for the girl it was all she had left
In the vulture's eyes this was yet another weakness
To attack; Oh what easy prey, what luck!

He pecked and pecked until there was no more
Nothing left to take, no more use of her to make
He made himself scarce seeking out new reserves
Leaving his prey unattended for the first time

At first the young lady felt a chord of loneliness
She sent a few cards by way of pigeon mail
But our feathered fowl was always too busy to reply
Probably in some cliffside cave feasting away

Alone with herself for the first time
She asked herself, "who am I without vulture? "
"who was I to begin with? "
She couldn't answer either question

In the vulture's absence she began to realize
All the pain she'd allowed him to cause her
The several bits and pieces of her he'd gotten away with
And she witnessed for the first time his utter lack of remorse

When she finally got the courage to confront him
To point out each of the scars and open wounds his very beak had left
The vulture threw back his scarlet bald head letting out a whoop of laughter!
Without so much as a word the coward turned tail and flew away

She knew then, there'd be no closure
It was doubtless, the vulture had never truly cared for her
He cut ties without the slightest drop of hesitation
Leaving behind him a trail of chaos and devastation

Knowing all she did, the girl still could not help
But to mourn the loss of his companionship
knowing he'd long since ceased to be a friend to her
In fact, he never was one - that was entirely her delusion

Time continued its steady inching
And with the vulture gone she began to heal
There was nobody left to tear or chip at her
She was finally learning what it meant to build herself up

A year had passed with no word from the vulture
In that time she'd come to see what a blessing it was
Besides, she wasn't that same girl he used to know
It was thanks to his absence she had the room to grow

There now lives a beautiful young woman
Who walks around with her head held high
She bounds this earth with long confident strides
Because she finally knows who she is in the world

Bri's Notes:
Line 2: I think "walked", not "waked".Otherwise, I felt this was a SUPERB poem; could there really have been a "vulture"?And, yes, brown, not black, feathers on Turkey Vultures

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
c - My Adorable Wife - Poem by Perdita Young

My Adorable Wife
"Housework is the man's duty,
Now women enjoy equality"
One day Mrs.Adorable
Said to me.

"If I do all of our task,
Then what is your share,
May I venture to ask?
You spoke of equality…"

"I would bear babies.
That would be
My RESPONSIBILITY! "

"What! I wait on you day after day,
Just for baby-bearing,
As you did say? "

Upon that she gazed on me and grew tearful:
"Well, I tell you, dear hubby,
Armies are maintained for years, people say,
Just for some future use, on some future day."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Poet's Notes:
May 12th,2013. Loosely based on "My Adorable Wife"(a cyber story) , on Mother's Day,2013.
d - Life's Black Curtains - Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Life's Black Curtains
Lost and alone, thoughts at a distance, heart heavy
with sorrow.

Touched deeply by your life, not wanting to let go,
yet knowing I must.

In my heart forever, indelibly printed on my soul,
etched in memory's mind.

Touched frequently by the tears of your loss, trying
to hold them as tiny reminders of what we used to have.

They disappear, never become tangible so I may keep them
like a treasure of your love.

With love, I will remember you all my life, for you are
a part and parcel of what we had.

Sharing now that you are no longer here is difficult - I
hear only the constant echoes of your silence.

Walking away from our favorite places, I leave a little
of self behind each time - soon there will be nothing
left of me.

Wanting to reach out and grasp again what we once had
is an empty gesture, filled with pain and emptiness,
because you are not here to reach out to me.

Our relationship on earth will never be, it has been
severed by death's insistence in our lives.

Listening to you with my heart, seeing your reply in
the salted tears that continue to fall.

Your life was called and you answered fully, not leaving
anything behind.

Our story is not over as long as I still remember you with
love.

Taking down the black curtains, life is still being lived
on earth.

Bri's Notes:
I believe the reference to "black curtains" refers to one of several items displayed many years ago in the homes of some deceased persons until an ‘appropriate' period of mourning had passed since the death, e.g. of a husband.Taking down the black curtains would signal the end of the customary mourning period.I believe widows, especially, may still wear ‘all black clothing' at a funeral [I'm not sure about their underwear].




e - Mr.Tap And Smiling Snail - Poem by Stuart Munro

Mr. Tap And Smiling Snail
Mr.Tap and smiling snail
the water wasted to no avail
the tap wouldnt turn off
enough to fill a pail
Mr.Tap told smiling snail

Mr.Tap told the office
they looked interested
and then made a promise
enough water to float a whale
Mr.Tap put them on bail

Mr.Tap was small and bearded
water was his life unhearded
he looked for leaks
in national trusts he'd peak
sometimes he'd be there for weeks

Mr.Tap married a water inspector
born were two water geysors in sectors
they scoured the land for drips
even dug up roads for pipe slips
Mr.Tap, gurgled regurly with his lips

Mr.Tap got knighted by the Queen
for finding leaks never seen
he dried up her palaces
and even corgi leaks from phalusses
Mr.Tap, crowned it with no malaces

Mr.Tap dried up Niagra falls
he didnt care he had the balls
he just couldnt stand waste was appalled
he recycled it in wheelie bins to napal

Mr.Tap, retired but still sniffs out leaks
everywhere there might be water he peeps
its a dribble drip affair about water care
now he's forgiven smiling snail
bought her a bucket and pail
and forty foot of hosepipe
and a hot and cold tap in grail

Bri's Notes:
Despite my inclusion of this bit of humour/humor in the showcase [quite a bit in MY opinion] I would NOTrecommend that any users of English [American or "the Queen's"] trust Stuarts English e.g. his spelling & use (or lack of use)of apostrophes! ! !But a fine fellow is he![perhaps drinks too much alcohol? ]If anyone is confused by "he had the balls", please ask me, Bri.:)

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f - Let The Dust Settle - Poem by Geraldine Kelly

Let The Dust Settle
Suddenly all is quiet.
Not a whisper, not a sound.
That wind just breezes in,
Blowing debris on the ground.


Sunlight on floating dust,
I breathe in the dirty air.
A gentle cough clears my throat,
But still it's everywhere.

Bri's Notes:
Well, why did I include this poem, besides for my ability to fit it into a small space?There is no humor or sex [unless you find "dust" sexy and/or funny], and it's not particularly "clever".It may even be unsettling for those with ‘Dustophobia'.But, for me, it is tranquil, and I like the rhyming and the rhythm.
g - Sometimes In Your Quiet Moment - Poem by Jez Brul

Sometimes In Your Quiet Moment
Sometimes
in your quiet moment
stressors come
and steal your peace.

Don't be swayed,
Breathe in fresh air,
Breathe out soiled one,
Think of happy days.
Bri's Notes:
I find it strange/ [fascinating] that I did NOT intentionally gather this and the preceding poem in the order I did.But, as I now am putting together this showcase, isn't it OBVIOUS that they are both VERY SHORT & they both mention dirty/soiled AIR! ! ?Wow.[of course I find bugs smashed on a car's windshield "fascinating" also]
I DID point out to Jez a pair of typos (breath instead of breathe) , and she rapidly corrected herself, fearing the wrath ofBri!I LIKE IT when poets pay attention!I used to make the same spelling error [believe it or not! ].Even MY proofreading of MY poems etc. is not perfect every time.:)
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h - A Humorous Death - Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

Distance stretches
to the horizon,
over the edge
is the distance down.
I am over
Falling slow as a feather.

My past passes me,
painfully.
It is a long way,
the bottom.
In the mortuary of mind
lay my ancestors
arms open and calling.
The dying left in me
will not speed its entirity
towards the inevitable.

>> <<

My ancestors are laughing now.
Applauding joyfully,
glad that I am released
from the restrictions of being.

Bri's Notes:
I ‘love' Sally's alliterations.But I like "entirety", especially after checking with"Google"!I think S.P.P. is British; that could explain her different spelling.Ha ha.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
i - A Goodbye Text - Poem by susette varga

A Goodbye Text
No proper closure
No proper goodbye
No final embrace
No farewell kiss
Our love surrendered
The towel thrown in
No longer worthy
Of any respect
Contempt I now taste
In your goodbye text
Bri's Notes:
Hmm?Using a "text" to "surrender love"?Why didn't I think of that! ?When I was a bit younger, a "text" was a book made out of paper (probably a school book) , or a religious writing.
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j - Valentine At Seventy (Humour)- Poem by Loke Kok yee

Valentine At Seventy (Humour)
Do not send me a bouquet red
Of fragrant roses which I dread
I will forget to water them
Then you will frown and say ahem!
In just a few days they will wilt
Which says little of a love built
Just three words on that special day
That will ever in my heart stay

Do not give me chocolates sweet
My teeth are now in full retreat
My diabetes is much too high
And from sweets and such, I should shy
Or else my kidneys, they will fail
And my life will be a sorry tale
Just three words on that special day
Sweetly said, to my heart conveyed

And please do not send me a card
That, I will surely disregard
My eyes bedimmed with cataract
And reading, no more in my act
There're days when I asked, who are you?
Which you will wrongly misconstrue
Just three words on that special day
And our love will never sway

[Bri's Notes]:
Two responses this poet made to comments members left on his poem:
"Thanks Geeta, Humour keeps things going; especially when you get old."
&
"I am quite useless write on this subject, but I can manage if I throw in a bit of humour! Thanks Mj"
k -78 сонет Шекспира [[Poem written in English by William Shakespeare]] - Translated to Russian by PH member Valentin Savin

78 сонет Шекспира

Тебя я Музой величал своей
И наполнял поэзию тобой.
Поэты увлеклись находкой сей,
И стали посвящать тебе стих свой.

Твои глаза немых учили петь,
А неучей достичь своих высот.
Учёным дали крылья ввысь взлететь.
Великим помогли шагнуть вперёд.

Гордись же тем, что смог и я создать
Под взором и влиянием твоим.
Другим поэтам ты помог писать.
Пусть ценят, что благоволил ты им.

Меня ж в искусстве за собой повёл.
Я ввысь взлетел, и друга не подвёл.
© Copyright: Валентин Савин,2009
Bri's Notes:
"Val" says he has translated all of Shakespeare's sonnets (I think)to Russian.None of them are on PH.But Shakespeare's English version of Sonnet 78 ISon PH, on "William Shakespeare's PHsite" and is found below:

Sonnet 78: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse- Poem by William Shakespeare
Sonnet 78: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse,
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing,
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learned's wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose influence is thine, and born of thee:
In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be
But thou art all my art, and dost advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.

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l - A Cats Paw - Poem by Andy Brookes

A Cats Paw

It tickles my fancy watching the cat tickle fish, which reminds me of your fishing for compliments.
a complimentary book landed on the door mat.
pouncing on it like a cat, which strangely pounced on it too.
we tugged at war and wrestled each other, paper shredded.
who won I thought as I wandered into the kitchen in search of comfort and coffee.

You had left as usual with no goodbye.
all you'd left were coffee dregs, a metaphor for your thoughtlessness,
so we were coffee-less.
so off to the coffee house, not a house made of coffee but a sales outlet.

the drink was sharp and bitter which no amount of cream disguised.
when I get home as usual you had had all the cream.
me and the cat sulk in different corners,
like two boxers waiting for the bell to ring for the next round.

me because you've left your usual mess, the cat because you'd forgotten the kitty food again.
scrounging a tin of tuna from across the way, making a sandwich with stale bread.
I divide the fish between me and the cat, who though now fed, is still fed up and eyes my sandwich with beady thieving eyes.
I ignore her and she retreats with her familiar disdain.
is she your familiar? like some medieval witch.

Waiting for you to return, which I know,
and it's so annoying will return her purr.
all I get is the hackles and fur balls.
I who feed her, brush her and take her to the vet, she treats as an undervalued servant;
whilst you oh light of my light which I do not say lightly, do nothing for her, is treated to her affection.

She was my cat after all. but she only lights up in your presence.
so I'm off, in a huff, to the pub.

P.S your dinners in the cat.
Bri's Notes:
Andy, sometimes known as "Paul", …..[[and sometimes MAYBE impersonated by someone else on PH]] …, is one of my ‘better' friends on PH, as are Valsa George, Tom Billsborough, and Jez Brul, Crayon Poet, and Valentin Savin.They are more than fine poets ‘in my book'.But, it's NOT that ‘the rest of YOU are "chopped liver" ‘, to use a strange idiom [[ as many idioms seem to be: "strange"]].Sure, Andy has a few typos now and then ….[I think he ‘wants' "Cat's", not "Cats" in the title of this poem] …., but his ‘close-to-brilliance' (poetically-speaking)makes up for ‘errors'.So, DON'T assume his poetry is 100% grammatically correct, and please DO enjoy reading his poems, many of which he recently has hidden from view here on PH, as I have also done with many of mine.

THIS BRINGS THE OCTOBER 2018 SHOWCASE TO A CLOSE.THAT MEANS THIS IS THE ENDING! ! !

I, Bri Edwards, aka Brian Edward Whitaker [in the ‘REAL WORLD'] do hope you have enjoyed your visit.
I also give a big "Thank YOU! ! " to all poets whose poems appear above, and to all readers.Feel free to comment on the showcase and to go to individual poet sites to read more of their works.
Next month [IF the "Muse" is willing] I plan display more poems from poets of the "Indian Subcontinent", as I did in September's showcase.But I shall try to include a larger number [than I did in September] of poems by female poets.

Have a safe trip home.

Bri :)

September...27th....2018
THE END