January 2019 P H Showcase Of Poems …[ Of And For P H Poets & Related Species ] Poem by Bri Edwards

Now that I've typed 2019, I'll concentrate,
to, this New Year's showcase, consecrate …
to the "divine purpose" of entertaining you,
with dozens of poems, or ….at least a few,
chosen from MyPoemList and ELSEWHERE.
If some don't "suit your fancy", I don't care!

I trust readers have "made it" another year,
though one fine PH friend did not, ‘I fear'.
OK! Some know Bri enough to know I lie,
as I don't fear he died, and here's the ‘why':
we ALL must die; it's just a matter of time.
And my friend left poems, ....with fine rhyme.

Poetry ain't (by far) the end-all goal in life.
Better is to live in peace, with little strife.
If in 2019 we all could make strides for that,
to all who DO do it, I'll gladly ‘tip my hat'.

To all people of Earth I send my best wishes.
Heck, I'll send to cats, birds, & to all fishes!
[to snakes, toads, slugs, and flies and such]
[NOT to mosquitoes, who I don't like much]


(December....8th......2018)


AND Nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww:

JANUARY 2019 Showcase Poems


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A - …….HERE ARE TWO POEMS PH HAS LISTED AS HAVING A TOPIC OF "JANUARY":

[ The following two ‘topic poems' listed by PH are ones i LIKE; they are now in my list of ‘Favorites'.BUT there are plenty i read which i did not like! ]


1 - A Cold Day In January … by David Crowther

A Cold Day In January

Last year my mother died.
I was not there she died alone.
It was mid-winter when
we buried her. The roads were treacherous
that day, the coldest of the year.
Few people made it to the funeral,
the church was nearly empty.
My son and daughter each
read out a poem
she had written in her younger days.
The priest, who had not known her,
said the prayers. From there we went
by car, the tyres crunching on the ice,
to where the grave had been prepared
in the cemetery that waited
on the outskirts of the town.
The ground was frozen hard.
We stood and listened to the prayers
the priest intoned, tall and upright
there above the open grave while
all the time the icy wind blew
flurries of snow over the graves
and by the groves of evergreens,
So cold, so bleak, so utterly unforgettable
the scene, but what was strange:
I did not mind the cold,
that seeped into my heart and bones.
It seemed somehow appropriate.

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2- A January Day … by Nosheen Irfan © 2016
All Rights Reserved


A January Day

I see a timid sun
And overbearing clouds
Playing upon our dreams
The sun wants to give fire
To our extinguishing hopes
But clouds are full of mischief
They overshadow the sun
And our dreams die of cold.

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B -.......If one does a PH "Search" for "transgender", one should find a
short listing of POEMS about ‘transgender persons'‘.

Bri's [Wikipedia's, actually] Notes on Transgender:

"Transgender
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Transgender people have a gender identity or gender expression that differs from their assigned sex.[1][2][3] Transgender people are sometimes called transsexual if they desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another. Transgender is also an umbrella term: in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women) , it may include people who are not exclusively masculine or feminine (people who are genderqueer or non-binary, including bigender, pangender, genderfluid, or agender) .[2][4][5] Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender.[6][7] Infrequently, the term transgender is defined very broadly to include cross-dressers, [8] regardless of their gender identity."
Here are three of ‘MY FAVORITE POEMS' from PH which i found by doing a
"Search" on PH for "transgender" after reading Valsa's poem which follows:


1 -Transgender … by Valsa George


Transgender

Applied rouge on the cheeks
Tied a glittering necklace round the neck
Putting heavy makeup,
Over the stubble on her shaven chin,
She looked into the mirror
Through its cracks, saw a million bits of her/him
Those images sneering at each other
She felt trapped in a wrong body,
With its contours n' longings mismatched

"Where do I belong"?
"Where do I fit"?

These questions plague her incessant
A rough stone with sharp edges
Too hard to be chipped down
Cast aside by the mason
That can never go into the making of a Cathedral

She walks around in haze
Life seems a twisted maze
Each time she tries to claw her way
She sees only walls that hems her in
Before her, lingers the stygian mist
Phantoms of darkness surround her
The winds of change swiftly blow
Seasons come and go
But she is tied down in her chains
An anomaly of creation
A curse and a taboo
Swallowing stigma and abuse
Each day waking up with a start
Knowing that she is neither a woman nor a man
But a non binary... an accursed TRANSGENDER
Inviting snide looks
And sniggers from onlookers

People call her a eunuch
One divided between the selves
A hapless denizen of an inhospitable world
Disowned even by parents

Though flawed and far from perfect
She is human, one of a kind
And needs to be seen through the eyes of God!

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2 -Clueless Is The Transgender.... by Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.

Clueless Is The Transgender.

Is the person in dispute
He, she, neither or both?
Genetics, Endocrinologists,
Psychiatrist, Gynecologists,
Radiologists, and Surgeons
Take a look, examine and fail
To concede it male or female.
A female is with female organs
Fully functional, with female
Hormones and 46 xx chromosomes.
Any deficit or any mix
Will upset the gender specific
And one will go clueless.

(31.07.2012)
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3 - Transgenders … by Gajanan Mishra

Transgenders
Yes, you go
You are allowed
To sing, to dance
To love,
And to be loved.
Yes, you are allowed
To do whatever you like,
You are recognized.
You are allowed
To come to this
National mainstream,
No problem, no fear,
No shame, no social pressure
No depression, no social stigma.

You are also
A honorable citizen
With all rights
Like any other,
You are Hijras,
You are eunuchs,
You are Kothis,
You are Aravanis,
You are Jogappas,
You are Shiv-Shakatis
And you are also
Known by so many names,
Go, your rights are hereby
Protected irrespective of anything.

Yes, you are recognized
As third gender and
The same status as
Male and female,
You are greeted
As the wonderful creation
Of the Almighty
With a major role to play
In the society under nature,
You are protected from
Molestation, rape and
Any act that is against
Humanity, Yes, you go
And enjoy yourself on this land.
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Poets Notes about The Poem:
The Supreme Court of India has recognized in its recent landmark verdict, transgender people as the third gender. Really it is a foundation to meting out a better deal to neglected section of the society. In fact it is a human right issue.
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Bri's Notes:

Very interesting! ! ! ! ok, a third 'gender' is protected! now protection is declared by law, but of course no gender is guaranteed to be safe/protected at all times from harsh, unfair, or criminal actions.: (
Also:
I get the feeling some people consider only people identified at birth as ‘female' to be trans-gendered when they identify themselves later as ‘male'.This is not the case.Read more to learn more, if you are interested.

Also:
As long as they serve LARGE ice cream cones to me at McDonald's, i don't care if they ‘are' or 'just look like they are'' male or female.The same applies to a president, a police officer,
or anyone else, NOT just a McDonald's employee.And...NO! , the McDonald's corporation did NOT pay me (enough) to mention its name THREE TIMES!
Bri (:


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C - ……..And here are more poems (added recently to my list on PH of
‘My Favorite Poems' aka MyPoemList) :



1 - …….The Mourning Palace (Auschwitz Is Real) -... by Kurt Kacich

The Mourning Palace (Auschwitz Is Real)

The palace of mourning, the place to meets death's end,
The place, where you wish the nightmare was pretend,
Innocent families fallen victims of the crime called genocide,
Home of the black suited demons committing crimes of homicide,
Yes! Hell on Earth! The torturing of life! Auschwitz is real!
Endless labor, human guinea pigs, the destruction of man,
Horrifying acts, only thing left is the image of what was once called home,
Without family left to see, alone behind barbed wire, all alone,
No food and harsh shelters, o how I wish I could go home!
Am I in hell? Does Satan exist within this tomb? Auschwitz is real!
I open my eyes after seeing deaths of millions, was heaven ever real?
I'm sure it's a fairy tale, a closed book that seemed ever surreal,
Starvation under the freezing sun, malnutrition feeding off zyklon-b,
Can I ever open my eyes to salvation? Or is perdition all I see?
Endless terror within the broken province, a nightmare never ending,
Life inside shattered, by morals controlled by rules forever bending,
Where did my family go? Are they home alone? Perhaps they already passed the pearly gates,
Broken dreams, shattered existence, the clouding of mind, Auschwitz is real!
For many nights I stared into the skies, Hoping God would catch my prayers,
Shivering in a masquerade of madness, I've never been so scared,
Struggling day by day, hoping to get stronger and survive from the pain I bear,
Endless cries of suffering, inflicted by the demons with no regrets,
If I live through this infernal dream, Oh how I will never forget!
Hoping to freeze time, hoping to find a piece of mind,
Wishing to live ahead of my time, or perhaps years I would rewind,
Oh how I wish I could go home, or go to a place of happiness I once known,
Clouded by mist of the rotting souls, It's the mourning palace,
It's the place, once called hell, the establishment of fire and brimstone,
It's the dominion of Auschwitz the place Leviathon ** calls home.
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** Bri's Notes: Leviathan, used in the Bible to denote a sea monster or the Devil, and alternately spelled Leviathon by some.It may also refer to a HUGE or immensely powerful thing, including a government.
AND: Can anyone tell me any information about this author, other than what is found on PH? PH has no biography for him; his poems were all submitted in 2010.
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2 - ……Sometimes - by Scooby Do

Sometimes
(The Midnight Letters)



So, I find myself still gazing,
Beyond the looking glass.
Through your eyes I see it all;
From the dark, to the light.

Sometimes I feel like I'm falling.
Sometimes I don't think you care.
Sometimes I wake up late at night,
Only wishing even more that you were there.

So call me,
Beyond the cold,
Beyond the grave.
Death can't even separate us,
Even though it was your blade.
You made the cut.

Sometimes I wish I could go back.
Sometimes I feel like walking away,
And never looking back.

So call me.
Oh, I fear I'll never see the light.
So call me.
To hear your voice is all I need.
So call me.
Even if it was just to show you cared.
So call me.
Girl, the way I see it,
You're not even there.

Oh, well when you wake up wondering,
Where have I gone,
Don't you shed a fucking tear.
Don't you wet those pretty eyes.
You did this to yourself girl,
Despite all I've given you.
Girl, when you see a shooting star,
Go on and make a wish.
I won't be coming back for you,
And there's nothing you can do.

Goodbye, girl.
Don't you wave goodbye.
Goodbye, goodbye.
No, don't you wave goodbye.
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Bri's Notes:
I corrected two misspellings/typos.
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3 -…….You Gasped …..by M.J. Lemon

You Gasped
Keep the chair, the pets,
the artwork, the antiques
and I'll even throw in the garden hose
Just as long as my fate, a rose

In your hands bleeds hope
and crouches underneath
the memories of togetherness
that dispel insecurities, prowess-

that make me infirm.
Sitting, back straight eyes closed
legs crossed hands clasped
you sang, a low voice. You gasped.
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4 - ……..God's Storm - …...by Sk. Nurul Huda

God's Storm

Have you got the Heaven or not?
Do you know all are to fight hot
To secure a place with a doubt lot?

with my blissful bless for you
Brought you where come a very few
Do enjoy this eternal ease life new.

What! are you not happy for your mother?
Look others here not the tears of her
Faith's test is being taken with your father.

Stop; STOP I SAY STOP
I wished it. I planned it and
Did it and will do what I can
Go forward go up go assemble

God stops...
The nine years boy starts stumbling
And saunters into the Heaven.
The boy who died in the terrorist attack saw the God's Wrath
And possibly got healed of the earthly wound he got.
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Bri's Notes:
My friend's English could use ‘some help' I think, but I'm using his poem because: 1- I like him.2- He offered the poem to me to put into a showcase.3- The poem is pretty good.AND4- I'm the boss here! ! !
But, speaking of "here", i think the following line:
"Look others here not the tears of her" maybe is meant to have "hear", not "here".Maybe.
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5 - ………Ordinary …….. by Bharati Nayak


Ordinary

I am a piece of pebble
Very ordinary
Lying on the road side
You passerby
Perhaps
Took a fancy
Picked me up
Perhaps
You found
Some color and beauty
And so
Took me
With you
Beauty lies
In your eyes
I am just a pebble
Very ordinary
Oh passerby! !
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Bri's Notes:
Bharati also offers a poem to me from time to time.
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6 ……...Death Is Nothing At All …...by Henry Scott Holland


Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before only better, infinitely happier and forever we will all be one together with Christ.

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Bri's Notes:
This is the only poem listed on this author's PH site; it has a submission date of 2004.
Though my religious views do not match his, he ‘paints an attractive picture' for ‘believers' to ‘see'. I would like to read more of his poems (on other subjects) .
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7a - ……..A Silly Poem …….by Mike Milligan

A Silly Poem

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?

Bri's Poet's Notes:
To understand the "play on words" (words from a play, in this case) , Search for "To be or not to be" ….AND "2B pencils".See Hindi translation, below at "7b".

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7b - ………एक बेतुकी कविता (स्पाइक मिलिगन)
[[ A Silly Poem (by Spike Milligan) ]]
हिंदी रूपांतरण रजनीश मंगा द्वारा
[[Hindi Translation by Rajnish Manga ]]
एक बेतुकी कविता

हेमलेट ने आॅफ़िलिया से कहा,
मैं तुम्हारा एक स्केच बनाना चाहता हूँ,
भला कौन सी पेंसिल ठीक रहेगी?
2बी ऑर नॉट टू बी?
Bri's Notes:
This was the most tedious/time-consuming submission to a showcase i've ever made, i think.: (ha ha ha.
I have trouble enough using English! !
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8 - ……….Planchette & Page - ….... by Nika McGuin

Planchette & Page

I think books are beautiful
and libraries are magical
perhaps the last drops
of magic that can be touched
by a mundane

drowning in a sea of books
I find I'm no longer human
but the planchette of a ouija board
delighted, I let the spell take over,
let it drag me through aisle after aisle
as it leads me to my partner in destiny

sigh of relief and jump for joy
I've found you
you've called me more likely
as I press your smooth cover to my chest
I can feel
that your ivory pages have so much
to tell and so very much
love to share

as I hold you
tightly wrapped in my arms
I feel so much more alive than usual
as we talk in the quiet language
of strangers who fall in love at first sight
at least in this moment of rapture
I don't feel so alone

we will read each other
teach each other
and play with one another
like the children we are

even if the last page isn't reached
your story has impacted me
for you and I have whispered,
chanted our tales
nightly, in voices quiet
like rustling pages

Bri's Notes:
This makes me (almost) want to be a book! But …..I don't think books can hold ice cream cones.Then again, being held against a young lady's chest might be (almost) as good.
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9 - ……...Bri's Cannibal Friend... [ Bri's Demise; Cannibals; Friend; Food ]

I made a Friend, a Skinny Cannibal.
Now I KNOW why Teachers called me a Dunce.

I went for a Meal at my New Friend's Home.
The Hors D'oeuvres were tasty.I Just Went ONCE.

Poet's Notes:
Befriending a cannibal "cost" me MORE than "an arm and a leg"!

bri

) :

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Well, Readers, I guess I'll stop, since all that's left of me now is bones and hair.It's more than I can handle to be dead AND ‘traveling" to the other side of the United States, from the mild (relatively) weather of coastal northern California, to the cold, wet, icy, windy western foothills of western North Carolina ….for the WINTER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !


Thanks go to ALL contributors i.e. those poets whose poems I have borrowed, .....like some art museums borrow paintings and sculptures to place in special displays sometimes.But don't let "your heads get swollen"!


I hope YOU have enjoyed your visit here.Come back near the end of January to see if I've survived to start February's showcase.As usual, admittance should still be free.And thanks to Poem Hunter as well! ! ! (also FREE! !)


Bri Edwards
aka Brian Edward Whitaker
aka "Hey You! ",

:) aka(: