April 2019 Showcase …[ A Display Of Poems (Mostly) Found On P H; This Month Featuring Poets Of The British Isles**; Sharing With P H Readers ] Poem by Bri Edwards

maybe i'll leave somethin' here later.


bri

:)

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now it is May 17th.

April 2019 Showcase …[ A Fine Display Of Poems (Mostly)Found On P H; This Month Featuring Poets Of The British Isles**; Sharing With P H Readers ]


**British Isles:
England, Northern Ireland, Republic of Ireland, Scotland, Wales,
&‘smaller islands', from which all distant travel ….once was by sails.
They are all part of Europe, though many of you may not, it, know.
Some of my ancestors came from thence; ‘westward' they did go.

Now I'll seek out poems from poets listed by P H as from the "Isles".
Some poems may bring to some readers groans, some, i hope, smiles.
Many will be from MyPoemList, gathered over my P H-stay years.
Feel free to respond with laughter, elation, disgust, maybe even tears.

In one previous showcase I featured poets of the Indian subcontinent.
If you're from someplace else, please don't …. much anger, at me, vent.
Instead, drop me a line aka send to me, Bri Edwards, a P H note.
Perhaps I'll feature an area of the Earth for which you'll cast your vote.

Most months I follow no strict guidelines as to geography or topic.
My planning is mine alone usually.Please don't think I'm myopic!



(March …..14th …..2019; poems to appear here by April 1st)


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Readers,

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves here, ...as long as you are NOT up to mischief! ! !

Ha ha.

Bri Edwards aka (also known as)Brian Edward Whitaker (in The Real World)

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THE POETS & THEIR POEMS:


1 - '' The Aliens Were Dense '' - Poem by Bri Mar (aka ‘Brian Markey Glasgow'


"The Aliens Were Dense"

April 2019 Showcase …[ A Fine Display Of Poems (Mostly)Found On P H; This Month Featuring Poets Of The British Isles**; Sharing With P H Readers ]


**British Isles:
England, Northern Ireland, Republic of Ireland, Scotland, Wales,
&‘smaller islands', from which all distant travel ….once was by sails.
They are all part of Europe, though many of you may not, it, know.
Some of my ancestors came from thence; ‘westward' they did go.

Now I'll seek out poems from poets listed by P H as from the "Isles".
Some poems may bring to some readers groans, some, i hope, smiles.
Many will be from MyPoemList, gathered over my P H-stay years.
Feel free to respond with laughter, elation, disgust, maybe even tears.

In one previous showcase I featured poets of the Indian subcontinent.
If you're from someplace else, please don't …. much anger, at me, vent.
Instead, drop me a line aka send to me, Bri Edwards, a P H note.
Perhaps I'll feature an area of the Earth for which you'll cast your vote.

Most months I follow no strict guidelines as to geography or topic.
My planning is mine alone usually.Please don't think I'm myopic!



(March …..14th …..2019; poems to appear here by April 1st)


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

Readers,

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves here, ...as long as you are NOT up to mischief! ! !

Ha ha.

Bri Edwards aka (also known as)Brian Edward Whitaker (in The Real World)

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

THE POETS & THEIR POEMS:


1 - '' The Aliens Were Dense '' - Poem by Bri Mar (aka ‘Brian Markey Glasgow'


"The Aliens Were Dense"


As the aliens descended,
Would our ways be mended?
As their intelligence was truly superior,
To us it felt splendid,
Our hand we extended,
Though some's motives were purely ulterior.

No need to hide,
They'd be on our side,
Initially that's what we thought,
They couldn't be snide,
They must know of pride,
Surely, they couldn't be bought.

Being part of the throng,
We tried to remain strong,
But our pleas they totally ignored,
Where they belong,
I'm afraid we got wrong,
With the majority they said we are bored.

With the one per cent,
Our intentions we'll vent,
We'll stick with the rich and your leaders,
With malicious intent,
Our greed they'll ferment,
Like us they are known as life's bleeders.

They asked, what's the fuss,
What's to discuss,
Being superior we don't deal with plebs,
We class you as puss [sic],
You're nothing like us,
We'll never get caught up in your webs.

Intelligent? We said,
You're all off your head,
You'll come down to Earth with a bump.
Watch where you tread,
Your lives hang by a thread,
Negotiating with Putin and Trump.

Soon the truth dawned,
There was no golden pond,
The whole thing was just a pretence,
Of those they were fond,
Our visitors were conned,
In Reality,

‘' The Aliens Were Dense ‘'


[ Bri's Notes:I think "puss" is meant to be "pus". And I wonder if "ferment" could be "foment".And the author makes me work a bit to determine where a sentence ends, due to what I consider an overuse of commas and an underuse of periods.But, that said, it is a nice poem! :) ]


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2 -Siren - Poem by Annette Aitken,born in Ireland; now in Scotland


Siren


The siren of the dipping pool
Bathes in the light of the dying day
Basks in the birthing of the new night
Shadowed by the old bent tree
At the river's edge
Hypnotic droplets glisten on her thighs
Men have gone to war, over [sic]
Still she shines.


She makes no apologies
For in the blink of an eye
Another heart is captured
A twist of the wrist
Smashes it into smithereens
As she lays claim to his very soul
Stamping ownership on his skin.
Humming the tune of his life.


The lazy sway of the tree
Bows to her gifted song
bark recoiling from her lashes
To fight, is futile
There is no escape
Just surrender
Fear its self [sic]
Can't easily be hidden.
As she bathes in the dipping pool,
of lost souls once more
Yet, still she shines in all her glory.

Is the urge to gamble
Greater than the will to live?
Do you dare to cast the dice
Gamble with your life?
Trying to silence the siren's chorus.


©Anna Aitken 3/10/18


[Bri's Notes:In this and other poems, if I insert a [sic] in the poem, it indicates that what comes before it is what is on the poem's page, but
I question some word and/or punctuation usage which I personally would not use.Of course, what is not familiar/correct to me may be familiar/correct to others! ]:)


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3 - You And Me - Poem by Tom Allport, Liverpool / United Kingdom


You And Me

After the war
Came another battle
So where were you
When I was born
And where were you
When I stumbled and walked
And where were you
When I stuttered and spoke
And where were you
When I started school
And where were you
When I passed my exams
And where were you
When I graduated
The answers never changed
It was always prearranged
You were always in the pub
I wasn't even a sub
You always chose drink
As an alternative to me
So maybe this poem
Will stop and make you think
About the events you missed
And all the times
You could have been loved and kissed
Instead of being a sad pub dad.


Poet's Notes about The Poem
A lot of soldier fathers turned to drink after the war trying to forget or ease the pain of what they had seen and been through.

[ Bri's Notes:Two years ago I used this poem in a showcase.The title then was just "You", I believe.I'm pretty sure the war was the second ‘World War'. ]

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4 -Invasions Of The Poltergeist - Poem by Tom Billsborough, Preston Lancashire

Invasions Of The Poltergeist

My outdoor shoes, when not in use,
Remain on duty in the lounge,
Discretely [sic] stationed out of view
To claim a broken limb or two.
But not today! Some supernatural
Power had whizzed them through the door
To reappear upon the kitchen floor,
And in full view. This won't do.
And yesterday my bedside clock
Had flown away together with a new pack
Of twenty cigarettes. And not by chance.
Serious heists, in fact.
Conclusive evidence
Of mischievous poltergeists.

[Bri's Notes:I believe Tom meant "Discreetly", a different word with same pronunciation I think.I may have spelled it the same way Tom did. ]




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5 -Life's A Mess - Poem by Paul (aka Andy)Brookes manchester / United Kingdom

Life's A Mess

I know I need to buy some socks
A mundane thing, oh and cut my locks.
I need to make the unmade bed,
Make a list, clear my head.

The sink it will soon overflow,
So wash the dishes, but I forgo.
Clean the windows, scrub the floor,
Take the rubbish out the door.

Fix the fence, mow the lawn,
Broken branches need be sawn.
Polish shoes, wash my clothes,
Find a hanky for my nose.

I know the flat it looks a mess,
I wish I cared I must confess.
Vacuum cleaner in it [sic] lair
Seems accusing in its glare

Instead I look at all my junk
My good intentions, totally sunk.
So out the door I will slink
Go to the pub and have a drink.

[ Bri's Notes: "Prohibition in the United States was a nationwide constitutional ban on the production, importation, transportation, and sale of alcoholic beverages from 1920 to 1933."
(Many people still made, imported, transported, and/or sold "booze" during that time!)
My Notes have almost nothing to do with the poem, but I wanted to tell you something SOME of you didn't know about the USA and alcoholic beverages! ]

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6 -The Male Chauvinist - Poem by Donna Caldwell, Manchester

The Male Chauvinist

Now will you get in that kitchen
I've told you once before
And when you've washed all the pots up
Make sure you mop the floor

When you iron my shirts
You'd better iron each crease
And when you wash my jeans
Make sure you remove the grease

When I arrive home from work
I want my dinner ready
You should know what I expect
Since we've been going steady

You can pick up my clothes
That I have left on the floor
And hang them in the wardrobe
Where they were placed before

You will do as I say
Especially when we wed
So when you've done all the chores
Get yourself sexy and ready for bed!

[ Bri's Notes:I THINK there may be a few Female Chauvinists as well. ]

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7 - Heart Of Ice - Poem by Noreen Carden, Mayo / Ireland

Heart Of Ice

Black day when ice formed round her heart.
Black day when they were forced to part.
Her anger made her rail at God.
What did she do that was so bad.

People think she is alive.
They don't suspect she's dead inside.
That she inhaled a breath so deep.
A deathlike state a waking sleep,
holds her fast she can't go forward
and the past is past.

Scalding tears wont [sic] break the ice.
So for now this must suffice.
Until his touch her breath releases
as it breaks the ice to pieces.
Only then will her heart pulse
and warm blood course within her veins
Her leprous soul feel joy or pain.
Breathing out she will live again.

[Poet's Notes about The Poem:
I wrote this after reading a true story told by a woman whose husband was in a coma she said she felt like she was also in a coma.Happily he recovered ]

[ Bri's Notes: "Wont" IS a word, but its does not mean "will not" aka "won't". ]


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8 -Kissing - Poem by John Brown, Wigan / United Kingdom

Kissing

I kiss her good morning
I kiss her goodnight
I ask how she is
she says 'I'm alright.'
then just for good measure
we both kiss our treasure
and kisses completed
we're out like a light.

(Written Aug 2018)


Poet's Notes about The Poem
'Our treasure' being our little Yorkie. See poem 'Poppy Sweet P Brown'

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9- Alien Invasion - Poem by Clive Culverhouse, England

Alien Invasion

I don't have a basement
there are no hills to run to
no caves for miles around

haven't stockpiled tins of beans
or tomatoes
or peach slices

panic buying hasn't been bought
no guns
no knives except cutlery

and I'm not a film star
who can get out of impossibilities
saving the world with nice teeth

so I guess I'll just stay in bed
or pull up a chair
and watch the show eating crisps

[ Bri's Notes: This guy sounds like he knows what he's doing! ! ]
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10 - Cats - Poem by David Darbyshire, Darwen England

Cats

Black cats, blue cats
white cats, grey cats
Round and thin, stray cats
Tall and short, they come in all sorts

Pet cats, Wild Cats
Abyssinian and Brown Cats
Bengal or Bobcats
Copper and Curly Cats

Nice cats, bad cats
good cats, Piss cats
Dakota Rex, Don Sphynx
Dragon Li, Desert Lynx

Furry Cats, Bald Cats
Kittens and Small cats
There is always a fat cat
Mei Toi or Mooncat

Ussuri or Urals rex
Vanese to Victoria Rex
Tibetan, Tulips or Toy
Cats are such a joy
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11 - The Linnet's Nest - Poem by Erasmus Darwin, (12 December 1731 - 18 April 1802 / Elston / Nottinghamshire / England) [ grandfather of the evolutionist Charles Darwin ]
The Linnet's Nest

The busy birds, with nice selection, cull
Soft thistle-down, gray moss, and scatter'd wool;
Far from each prying eye the nest prepare,
Form'd of warm moss, and lined with softest hair.
Week after week, regardless of her food,
Th' incumbent linnet warms her future brood;
Each spotted egg with ivory bill she turns,
Day after day with fond impatience burns;
Hears the young prisoner chirping in his cell,
And breaks in hemispheres the fragile shell.
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12 - Captain Cur..... (Limerick)- Poem by Valerie Dohren, Preston / United Kingdom
Captain Cur ….. (Limerick)

There was a ship`s Captain called Cur
A pirate so extraordinaire
He was hell-bent
On the Malevolent
To coddle his Pirate Girl`s pair (oops! ... I mean hair)

Poet's Notes about The Poem:
Dedicated to our one and only Captain Cur of the Malevolent.

[ Bri's Notes:Captain Cur has some poems on P H which i've enjoyed. ]

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13 - Eat The Peach - Poem by Hazel Durham, Carlow / Ireland
Eat The Peach

Life can be merciless, heartless, careless
And ruthless, just in the process of finding happiness,
Like nature's fleeting bloom,
Winter of our times is like an empty room

Sparse with the echoes of familiar voices,
Some now silent in their cold tomb,
As we reach for the zest and juice of a peach,
But it always seems just out of our reach,

Expectation becomes desperation
For success, love, happiness and the revelation
Of trying to find ourselves in life's goals,
To eat the peach and feel that living is within reach,

Giving is part of living,
Living tries to teach
Us, kindness, goodness as we march forward to the beat of happiness,
We feel the ghosts of our past

Surround us, comfort us and protect us,
As time runs fast
We must realise how special we are without any fuss,
We can then embrace the present and the future,

As we continue to endure,
Because living is an art so pure,
We are full of uncertainties but we can be sure
We can eat the peach it is within our reach!

[ Bri's Notes:This poem (like most, if not all of the poems this month)has been in MyPoemList aka "My Favorite Poems" list on P H, most (?)of them for years.This one was particularly a challenge for me, Bri, to read while following the poet from stanza to stanza.And it may not apply to all readers' lives, but i like it quite a bit! ]

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14 -I Need Not Go - Poem by Thomas Hardy, (2 June 1840 - 11 January 1928 / Dorchester / England)
I Need Not Go

I need not go
Through sleet and snow
To where I know
She waits for me;
She will wait me there
Till I find it fair,
And have time to spare
From company.

When I've overgot
The world somewhat,
When things cost not
Such stress and strain,
Is soon enough
By cypress sough [sic]
To tell my Love
I am come again.

And if some day,
When none cries nay,
I still delay
To seek her side,
(Though ample measure
Of fitting leisure
Await my pleasure)
She will not chide.

What- not upbraid me
That I delayed me,
Nor ask what stayed me
So long? Ah, no! -
New cares may claim me,
New loves inflame me,
She will not blame me,
But suffer it so.

[ Bri's Notes:I believe "cypress sough" should read "cypress slough" aka a swampy area containing cypress trees.
I once read a novel by this author; the book was recommended to me by a P H friend, Xelam Kan.Thanks, Xelam.
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15 - Our Life Purpose - Poem by Vanessa Hughes, birmingham / United Kingdom

Our Life Purpose

People talk about a purpose
A mission for each one on earth [sic]
A path that if you choose to walk it
Was pre-determined before your birth

A mission testing your every being
Mostly based on facing fear
And if you opt to walk away
Repeated chances will appear

With every challenge that awaits us
Comes a lesson to help us grow
Walk away or accept your fate
Your higher purpose is there to know

And as I walk a path that's hurt me
And sometimes cut me up inside
I won't back off from what life throws me
I'll hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

[Bri's Notes:I always capitalize our planet's name: Earth.Vanessa has apparently submitted a couple (of)poems last year after a long absence or dry spell.Welcome back! ]

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16 -The Spider Saver -Poem by Stephen Katona, Hereford / United Kingdom

The Spider Saver

When a spider decides to roam,
I'm by far the bravest in our home.
It is I who rushes to help,
When my elder sisters all yelp.
Those hairy legs spread across the wall,
Make even the grown-ups curl up in a ball.
The thought of large fangs fills them with such dread,
They shiver and quiver under the bed.
I catch a flying shoe in mid-air,
And give one sister a reproaching stare.
Can she not see this spider's our friend,
And deserves a much happier end?
I'd happily let him live in our cave,
But I'm the only one who knows how to behave,
So I trap him in a glass, as bold as brass,
And release him outside on some dewy grass.
Yet something stopped me taking him far,
And when I go back to the warm [sic] I leave the door ajar…

[ Bri's Notes: Stephen has numerous entertaining and informative poems about animals, large and small. ]

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17 -Slices Of Brain - Poem byValerie Laws, Whitley Bay / United Kingdom

Slices Of Brain

Third anniversary of my mother's death from dementia,
And I'm looking at slices of brain, stained pretty pink,
The neurones purplish, their nuclei clear as strawberry pips.

Like a magician in his many-coloured coat of patches, motley
Bow tie, hair like wild dendrites in a frenzy of thinking,
The pathologist initiates me into what death has revealed.

The donor's name is on the slides, their memorial, evidence
Of how memory escaped them. Alzheimer and his mates
(Lewy Body, Parkinson, Vascular, alone or in cahoots)

Miss no tricks. Tau Proteins strangle and swamp, cutting off
The synapses, keeping the thoughts corralled in tangles,
Scribbles of barbed wire around the nucleus, sometimes

Killing the cell like a rubber band round a lamb's balls,
So a ghost tangle is left, guarding empty space.
(Are there ghost memories inside?)Ameloid [sic] proteins

Lag the axons, the dendrites, the outreaching fronds
Which pass torches of thought, until
There's a plaque, like a fingertip print

Stubbed on the connections. Scattered booby traps,
You have to look out for them. Cortical, hippocampal
Layers, like lagoons and sandy beaches, slide after slide,

Pebbled with tangles, wracked with plaques,
In a shrinking brain losing weight and substance,
Because there's ‘vacuolation', holes where words were.

And it happens, we don't feel it, until it's noticed by our friends,
And called a senior moment, until there are too many moments
To be funny any more [sic].

Poet's Notes about The Poem
Part of my work with neuroscientists and pathologists, researching the science of dying, dementia and ageing in the brain. This explains what the signs and symptoms of dementia are - it's not madness, or an inevitable part of ageing, it's a disease causing physical brain damage.

[ Bri's Notes: Both neurons and neurones are correct spellings. ]

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18 -The Frogs Went To War (A Poem For Children)- Poem by Jojoba Mansell, North East / United Kingdom

The Frogs Went To War (A Poem For Children)

There's fighting in the duck pond,
the frogs have gone to war!
They're punching toads and kicking newts,
they're out to settle an old score.

"These lilly pads are ours! "
Screams a gigantic froggy brute.
Then he hops into the reed bed,
then starts beating up a newt.

"Stop this, it is madness! "
Shout the old grey geese.
But the frogs just ignore them,
they're waging war, not peace.

They're hopping past the bulrush,
they have just slapped mother swan.
Their battle cry is "Ribbit! "
And still they're marching on!

"Enough! " Shouts the heron,
"This really has to stop! "
He bares his beak, his frog eating beak,
then not one frog dares hop.

The heron has them fleeing,
the frogs hop off in retreat.
They're apologising frantically,
knowing they're what heron likes to eat!

[ Bri's Notes: This seems to be a simplistic, if not altogether realistic, look at wars which humans (and perhaps others, besides frogs and herons)wage.I assume most readers will decide that, here, "might makes right", the "right might" …..(aka morally acceptable power)…...being that of the heron. ]

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19 -If Every Man Was Like Jesus - Poem by Stuart Munro, WIMBORNE / United Kingdom

If Every Man Was Like Jesus

If Everyman [sic] was like Jesus
And every woman like the Virgin Mary.
In life there wouldn't be any point
Everything would be perfect
No need for miracles
No one would die or get ill
Everyone would love
Everyone wouldn't need to worry
Everyone wouldn't need to work
Everyone wouldn't have to go anywhere
Everyone would have a good day
Everyone would talk good talk
Everyone would be physically perfect
Everyone would be mentally perfect
Everyone would respect everyone
Everyone would not harm anyone
And if we all had it this way
There wouldn't be any point
In achievement
There wouldn't be any point
In doing anything
We'd just look at each other
Wishing someone wasn't perfect

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20 - Life Carries On - Poem by Della Perry, kingswinford / United Kingdom

Life Carries On


Magpies continue to chat across rooftops
Mice still hide from dug out holes
Starlings sing in noisy crowds just as they always have.
Children play and scream in excitement in the gardens
Telephones ring in the distance
Films on TV continue to be repeated
People I see continue to live, eat, drink, work, reproduce, excrete, sleep, repeat.
Think and produce
Thoughts do not stop
They roll around loosely like marbles in a tin.
The sun rises, sun sets, the moon watches.
I miss you, you are gone
But life still moves on around me.
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21 - The New Girl - Poem by Lodigiana Poetess, West Sussex / United Kingdom

The New Girl

Say my name - just say it....
roll the sounds around your tongue.
Fashion your lips - to expel the breath-to create the word...
Just once look my way, not in that' just having a look around' way but seek me out...hold my gaze....just for a second..but long enough for me to perceive it..
Let that glorious light of recognition illuminate your dark and impenetrable eyes, seeing the passion kindling in mine and knowing you have a power over me....
Feel the nape of your neck begin to shiver with anticipation of warm lips brushing that delicious spot you find irresistible,
And as you walk past, brush my shoulder languidly....
Leave a lingering memory of your presence -Gucci 'Guilty Absolute'...are you ready to take a leap of faith?
To smile and say 'hello you're new aren't you'
Show me the coffee machine! - point out the fire exit! - ask me to dinner...anything...but see me...just see me
All I ever see is you......

Poet's Notes about The Poem
who doesn't remember that secret crush you had on someone at work?
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22 -Cupid's New Rifle - Poem by Jaden Knight, aka John Westlake, aka Aries Profanisaurus, Crawley / United Kingdom
358. Cupid's New Rifle - Poem by Aries Profanisaurus

Cupid's New Rifle


This is a friendly advance warning
for everyone next valentine's day
Cupid isn't using a bow no [sic] more
he's bored of people ducking out of the way

He's gone and bought a love sniper rifle
with the best long range scope
you won't see it coming until you're hit
and then you haven't a hope

It comes with a 30 round magazine
loaded with supersonic darts
he could be round the corner
taking careful aim at your heart

So acquire the best body armour
to shield and protect your chest
don't say I didn't warn you
or that I didn't even try my best

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23 - Dog - Poem by susette varga, akaInvisible One I Am Not H.., perth / United Kingdom
Dog

Oh how i adore
My fur boy
My loyal
Little buddy
Cute
And white
And rather funny
And curly
I swear he smiles
When he looks at me
His tail
Wagging madly
He is full of fun
Truly never bores me
If men could be
As loyal
And cute as he
I'm sure
I'd have a hundred
Probably a good thing
That they are not
As i'd likely
Not have the energy
To play

[ Bri's Notes:I'm now practicing wagging my tail. ]
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24 -Death - Poem byRuth Walters, London, U.K. / United Kingdom

Death

She grew old gradually
and the mirrors marked time

She - never saw time, it was always ahead
and she was always too busy.

The only route she knew was forward,
but as she looked in the mirrors

an old face stared back
a face she didn't recognise.

She preferred the one of long ago
but life's a roller coaster and

age catches us all in the end.
Even our memories are time worn.

Some day life will be a lost dream,
gone and forgotten for eternity.

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25 -The Devon Maid: Stanzas Sent In A Letter To B. R. Haydon - Poem by John Keats, (31 October 1795 - 23 February 1821 / London, England)

The Devon Maid: Stanzas Sent In A Letter To B. R. Haydon

1.
Where be ye going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there i' the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?

2.
I love your meads, and I love your flowers,
And I love your junkets mainly,
But 'hind the door, I love kissing more,
O look not so disdainly!

3.
I love your hills, and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating;
But O, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!

4.
I'll put your basket all safe in a nook,
Your shawl I'll hang up on this willow,
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye,
And kiss on a grass-green pillow.

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26 -William Shakespeare Epitaph - Poem by William Shakespeare, (26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)
[ both old English and modern English versions, from PH ]

William Shakespeare Epitaph

Good frend for Iesvs sake forebeare,
To digg the dvst encloased heare.
Bleste be Middle English the.svg man Middle English that.svg spares thes stones,
And cvrst be he Middle English that.svg moves my bones.


[Bri's Notes:I'm now rereading the whole showcase AND I can't imagine W.S.'s epitaph really contains "Middle English" (3 times)and "svg" (3 times) , but I do believe I faithfully copied and pasted what was on PH's poem page! ! ]

In modern spelling:

Good friend for Jesus sake forbear,
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
And cursed be he that moves my bones.

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HERE ENDETH Bri's April 2019 showcase:

The Showcase's Epitaph:

Oh now doth this showcase come to its End.
To Poetry Heaven I now, these poems off-send.
I hopeth, YOU readers, it did NOT …..at all offend.

(March …..20th …..2019)


Bri Edwardsaka Brian Edward Whitaker [in the Real World]

:)

:)