Bri Edwards

Gold Star - 63,827 Points (some time ago / Earth, i believe)

A Showcase For P H Poets: November 2015: Section ' C '...[10th Monthly Showcase Of Poems; This Section For “medium” Length 2nd Or Late-Arriving Poems ] - Poem by Bri Edwards

The poems in November’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 AND TITLES:
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TEN: BEACH GIRL (United States; Female; 45) (late arrival)

The Sea Girl

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NINE: EUGENE LEVICH (United states; Male; 78) (2nd medium poem)

Prayer

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EIGHT: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada; Male; 75) (2nd medium poem)
The Sun

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Bri's note: YES! Another poem about the sun! But it's different.

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SEVEN: LORA COLON (United States; Female, -) (2nd medium poem)

Did The Sun Hear?

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SIX: VALSA GEORGE (India; Female; 61) (2nd medium poem)

As Autumn Runs Its Round

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FIVE: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67) (2nd medium poem)

Night Crawlers

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FOUR: SEEMA JAYARAMAN (India; Female: 43) (2nd medium poem)

A Fathers Grief

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THREE: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; -) (2nd medium poem)

Let's Dance

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TWO: ELENA PLOTKIN (United States; Female; -) (2nd medium poem)

Truly Repentant

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

238. - Fight Back

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THE POEMS:
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TEN: by Beach Girl


The Sea Girl

When I was just a little girl
They brought me to the sea
I waded out as waves unfurled
Their salty gifts on me

Seaweed, shells and whole sand dollars
Were strewn along the shores
Each a gem of ocean wonders
Formed on soft sea floors

As years flew by and she grew tall
She never lost her passion
Most nights she'd hear the ocean call
And dreamt of wild waves crashing

The sea girl couldn't shake the call
Salt water coursed her veins
Returning to the old sea wall
She felt her heart unchained

Miles and miles of endless sea
It took her breath away
The blue, the blue, oh it does scheme
To drive one quite insane

Thunderous and angry waves
They threw themselves ashore
The aqua hues grew dark and grey
The rain drops she ignored

She ran down to the water
And lay upon the sand
The pleasure that this brought her
Caused rain and tears to blend

The drumming of the thunder
Became a distant song
Soon there was just a murmur
The raging storm was gone

When she awoke and gazed about
She found herself entwined
Seaweed and shells her form did tout
Gems from the sea, her finds

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NINE: by Eugene Levich


Prayer

Pope Francis landed in Manila
To Say the Mass
Just as a typhoon hit
The Philippines

The wind and rain
Hit him
Just as he
Got off the Plane

“Jesus Christ, ” he muttered,
As he nearly was blown away,
“What shitty weather! ”
Because the Pope is a Good Man,
A Simple Man,
And that is what a Good and Simple Man
Would say
On that kind of a day
In that kind of weather

And in his mind he offered a prayer
To Jesus and Mary
That the typhoon would cease
When he said the Mass
But it didn’t

So hundreds of thousands of Filipinos
Stood out in the pouring rain to hear that mass
Soaked to the skin

Did any of them wonder...
(I wonder) ...
If the Pope is the intermediary
Between Man and God,
And he prays for a sunny day,
And it rains cats and dogs—
If prayer doesn’t work for him—
A Pope, and a good one,
Then what, for us ordinary folks,
Can be the efficacy of prayer?

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Bri's note: Lord, forgive my laughter!

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EIGHT: by Clarence Prince


The Sun

This is true of the golden sun
It rises and shines not for fun
it only does what it has to do
It rises to set every day yet
It sets to rise again, you bet
By its warmness things thrived
While from its heat things died
That’s the work of golden sun
Thank God for the golden sun

The sun, it works not for fun
It rises to set, its warmness we get
Before it sets man may even sweat
In setting it knows its place
It has no need to start a race
Just the world to embrace
It makes the case no day to waste
That’s the work of the golden sun
Thank God for the golden sun

It knows how to follow the sky
Shining brightly as it goes by
It brings us days of dryness
It gives us days of mildness
Whatever it brings it’s a treat
It causes what’s wet to dry
While it moves along the sky
It’s the work of the golden sun
Thank God for the golden sun

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SEVEN: by Lora Colon


Did The Sun Hear?

This morning the sun rose in a peculiar way,
As if it were afraid to announce the day,
First, with a cautious eye, it scoured the land,
Timid, with a fear of untold reprimand,
Slowly, its ribbons of light were unwinding,
But so pale, they could hardly be called blinding,
What could be the cause of the sun's hesitance?
What could have been said that brought this reticence?
I wonder, did the sun hear my idle threats?
Last night, missing you, I was filled with regrets,
My heart defiled, my pain starting to accrue,
I dreaded facing a new day without you,
And as the morning dawned, I said foolish things:
'How dare the sun rise, knowing the pain it brings!
Has it no compassion, just heartless cruelty?
I wish the sun would drown in a stormy sea!
Its flames be extinguished, leaving but embers,
Crying for the past glory it remembers,
What I wouldn't do to make the sun depart,
Too long has it thrown flaming knives at my heart! '
And so, for my heartbreak, I would blame the sun
And wish for the day to be over and done;
Regretting my folly, I now realize
My words, spoken in angst, were cruel and unwise,
Fear not, Sun, nothing will harm your dazzling flame,
For my pain and loneliness, you're not to blame,
So rise, dear Sun, fill the world with your glory,
I'll cast blame on the night for my purgatory

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SIX: by Valsa George


As Autumn Runs Its Round

As summer reluctantly gives way
And autumn waits at the doorway
Visible changes come their way
Though they are not for long to stay

Cool is the wind that blows in soft hum
And leaves fall with the bee’s thrum
When they fall curling in hundreds down
In a deluge of colors, the lands drown

Some leaves are seen swirling afloat in space
And some fall softly across the landscape’s face
Of all the trees, the maple is a sight to relish
Which the eyes can never ever relinquish!

Orange and red, ochre and brown
Like the sparkling gems on a queen’s crown
In a variety of costumes the Earth parades
And everything, seen in a medley of shades

The trees are loaded with fruits ripe
And squirrels dart up to savour the pulp
Autumn is the season for gathering crop
When from the towering oaks acorns drop

As autumn tightens its strangling grip
And the blizzards blow in mightier sweep
The trees are stripped of all their leaves
And many a bird, deprived of its arbour, grieves

With the cruel bite of savage frost
Flowers fade and all their glamour, lost
As the days grow cold by and by
Birds in flocks begin to fly

They take on wings to warmer climes
Before the snowflakes fall in bits and piles
Soon the season falls into hushed silence
And waits for the winter with resilience!

Variety, we know, is life’s flavouring spice
And all seasons have their beauty and grace
But each has its own distress and decrement
And the only way to be happy is to be content

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Bri's note: As sometimes happens, some words are underlined in red on my computer, but they are variations of spellings some of us are more familiar with (like here in the U.S.) .
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FIVE: by Bri Edwards


Night Crawlers And You! .... {horror; Short; Fantasy? ? ; Death For Some]

They came from deep inside the Earth’s bowels,
spreading fear among us, worse than any ten wolves’ howls.
Their forms can change, but rarely did.
They WILL find you hiding, no matter where you’re hid.

Yes! They’ve been around here and there over the ages.
Backward savages have stories of them, as do Medieval sages.
They harvest (usually) only those which they can eat,
before slinking back to the Earth’s bowels; they need the heat.

It’s really not easy (their appearance) for me to describe,
as most, who encounter them crawling, do not long survive.
It’s said they are “ghoulish green”, and, rarely, “blue”,
that their teeth are many, and dripping with goo.

But they rarely bite you till you’re already dead,
letting their corrosive goo do the deadly job instead.
Yes! They mostly come out at night, so you beware ……,
BUT some are ‘day’ crawlers also, away from their lair.

What little noise they make can be easily mistaken …..
for skittering rodents and tree branches shakin’.
You’ll never know where to run when they stand erect (your HAIRS) ,
since you usually see just ONE of them ……, BUT they hunt in PAIRS.

(Feb.2 & April 5,2015)

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Bri's note: Actually, Night Crawlers DO exist. LOOK OUT! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
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FOUR: by Seema Jayaraman


A Fathers Grief

As I held you in my arms, sinewy of all
The anchor, to hold you secure, eternally
Promises, A Father to his child, inscribes
Etched in their souls, spelled through the eyes

This crook, most solid and sound I sold
Forever here, the mast with you sheltered
I will stand aground, rooted, so no harm dare stray
No wind and no tide, no destiny could prise

To catch, console, when you stumble and stray,
A rough carees here, a gruff lulaby for Baby whimpers
For you the harbor of my shoulders, I carved
To groom you in a better image,
My sail tattered I unfurled

In the rocking ceaseless tossing, evil willfully designed
Banshee winds, towering seas, bloodied land left behind
Through waters that had beckoned, the only route
To freedom, a passage to future bright,
Other far off avenues denied

When the ship’s shepherd, threw away the steer
Swindled again, deceived humanity, the enormity of black scape
Wheels I held - the last fight, your savior Me to deliver
With only a prayer – Daddy Be Safe, upside down I realized

I felt you slip, surrendered, the nightmare, that never should be
All I held dear, in that dark moment, snatched from me
Desperate souls in black night, in darker depths drowned in treachery, dreams asunder perished onboard, destiny n'vr agreed

We were tricked, deceit craftily snitched, my life
My bubble, My froth, My fizz – All I ever hoped to be
That moment, eternity merged with Now and never, all denied
God welcomed his light, Earth and humanity left bereft

Yet to this wild, all undeserving zombie – Men
A reminder, to heed, to heal and apologize
Look my brother, the treacherous waters, did concede
A most delicate & tender shell, that once held a cherub inside

That which mother of all mothers could not hold
From her dark churning depths, she returned from her womb
Rocking on thundering waves, so gently a shining pearl
Ashore a wet tear swept golden shore, she gave
Now to the arms of human race I forsake

Witness my baby, my babies fragile, nary a delicate hair askew,
Nor the clothes worn or shoes, in place their angelic glow
For those with heart to weep, lesser beasts to repent
I carry the corpse of my being, weighed down by empty shoulders

©Seema Jayaraman, Mumbai (Sep 2015)

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THREE: by Melvina Germain [and her sister, Anita Giscombe]


Let's Dance

The Can Can
The Charleston
The Tango and more
A lover
A playmate
A girlfriend for sure
Let me see you
Let me love you
Let’s dance on the floor
Do it my way or the highway
I’m smiling
I’m laughing
Take away the blues
I’m gonna tap dance
I’m gonna mambo
I’ll make the midnight news
Let me hold you, I’ll control you
In the old dance hall
Take my hand
Swing me around
Try not to fall
We can do the fox trot
And the cha cha
Boom boom rumba
Change to the somba
Hit me up on the table
I know I’m still able
Let’s dance
Mashed potatoes la la la
Black bottom shoo be do be do
Cmon baby let’s do the twist
I know ya like it like this
shimmy shimmy coco but
Shake that booty down Tupper street
Sha booty bop, sha booty bop
Dig that beat
Let’s dance


(Date: Oct.18/2015)
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Bri's note: Dancing in the aisles IS allowed. :)

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TWO: by Elena Plotkin


Truly Repentant

A day will come when you believe
all the bad things said about me.
I will not be around to complain.
I will not be around to explain.
And maybe you will try your best,
To defend ye old family crest.
And maybe you will fight hard
For the little that's left to safeguard.
And maybe you will beat your chest,
And make of yourself a total pest.
Any maybe you will stomp your feet,
And refuse every opportunity to retreat.
But sooner or later it will strike at you,
To the very core that makes you, you.
Soon you will feel doubt, anger, and resentment.
And for that my darling, I am truly repentant.

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(c) 2013 Copyright Elena Plotkin

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ONE: by John Westlake



238. Fight Back


Your swollen fists fall on to me
like a heavy downpour of rain
leaving bruises instead of puddles
every week for the past few months

Every time you love to try to push me back
but you still have not won yet
yes I'm on my knees
but am not yet defeated and feel no fear

What are you trying to do
is there another way for you to try breaking me
I suggest you hurry up and find it
before I start to snap
rising up in retaliation

Backed up against a wall
no further can I be pushed
now it's my turn to strike
and I will get my punch in

Before I even raise my fist
I look into your eyes
and see you already kneeling on the inside
I haven't even fought back yet
but I see the tables have turned
your power has evaporated
I have won and you are terrified

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Topic(s) of this poem: poems


Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is the fourth 'Section' of the November 'a showcase for PH poets'. the showcase format has changed quite as bit since the first one 10 montha ago.

i now have sections A, B, C, and D, instead of just one section (A) .

i now allow five (5) poems per month per poet (instead of just 2) , depending on their lengths (and how much computer time i have to put the whold thing together! !) .

i also am now offering a 'challenge topic' for poets to use to write one or more of their poems; the challenge is optional!

poems typically are the work of my PH friends, are on PH already, can be any length, and can be used in more than one monthly showcase! !

i always give due credit to the authors. thank you.
this is NOT a contest!


bri :)

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 14, 2015

Poem Edited: Friday, May 20, 2016


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