As Section A is almost filled (it is NOT weak) ,
allow me to ink some words quite meek**.
[they won't be heard above a mouse squeak]
'Please, at this Section B, will you peek? ? '
December's showcase was a rousing success,
for me, if not for many others, I do now confess.
I do my ‘thing' on PH and you all do ‘yours'…..but …
I'm sure many of you, like me, have other chores.
I like the ‘almost-new' format of my/our monthly display,
but if YOU do not, all I can say is: 'A, B, C is OK …..
with me! '
So send me a poem(s) to share, or just you read,
and comment perhaps, …..OR simply pay no heed.
(January 2nd,2017)
Bri :)
** definition 3: not violent or strong: moderate
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Some information for Contributors AND Readers of the showcases:
Each Section (A, B, and maybe C) will hold 15 poems, maximum. EACH Section will accept ONE poem per poet, any length, any topic, any style, BUT I, Bri, will decide which poems are used. Unless a poet has arranged for me to ‘help myself', I shall wait for poems to be offered by the authors, all of whom ALWAYS will receive recognition for THEIR words.
The poems need NOT be new, need NOT be on PH already, and need NOT be in English [but English translations of non-English poems will be appreciated! ].
============================================
THE POETS (and titles) , up to 15, listed chronologically (more or less) in the order I received them:
1 - Bri Edwards
Panties Showing.... [limerick...So It's Short! ; Peeping O'Reilly? ]
============================================
As of NOW [Jan.-2-17], Section A still has room for, I think, two more poems from poets who don't have one in 'A' yet. So, in case you think you've seen 'it' all, you may not have!
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AND! ! on Jan.7th i discovered that the poems i THOUGHT were filling slots 2-5, below, were NOT showing up yet in Section B, even though i had done the editing to put them in already, days earlier. i don't know if it was my error or a PH or computer problem. SORRY FOR THEIR ABSENCE WHEN I HAD TOLD POETS THAT I HAD ALREADY SUBMITTED THEM! ! !
BRI: (
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2 - M.J. Lemon
When
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3 - Lynn W. Petty
On Being A Grandfather
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4 - Eugene Levich
A Unique Fellow
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5 - Della Perry
The Wolverhampton Wanderer
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6 - Clarence Prince
I Wish You: Peace!
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7 - John Westlake
541. A Day With Sky
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8 - Savita Tyagi
Happy New Year!
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9 - Bharati Nayak
Merry Christmas
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Bri's Note:
Bharati's poem was meant to go into Dec.2016's Section C, but somehow it got 'missed'. now i have put it into that showcase as well as this one. i'll blame PH! ha ha! bri :)
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10 - Bharati Nayak
A Verse For My Friend
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Bri's Note:
Because of what i wrote in the Bri's Note for poem #9, above, i am giving Bharati a second 'slot' in this Section Bf: Section A for Jan. was already full of 15 poems.
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11 - Andy Brookes
Baking Day
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12 - Brian Johnston
The Letter That Wasn'T There
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13 -? ?
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14 -? ?
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15 -? ?
[up to a maximum of 15 poems in each Section] [go to Section C, when it is open, if you wish ]
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THE POEMS (and their authors) , up to 15 (usually) , listed in REVERSE ORDER of when I received them.
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15 - by? ?
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14 - by? ?
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13 - by? ?
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12 - by Brian Johnston
The Letter That Wasn'T There
It is difficult -
Waiting for a letter from you,
Going to the mailbox,
Each day,
Like a toddler to the shining tree
On Christmas morning.
The letters, cards, and colored flyers
Are bright wrappings,
Teasing me with their layers
To find the hidden treasure
(Which I imagine
Lies already in my grasp,
Just waiting to be found) -
A glimpse into your soul.
I'm embarrassed at my disappointment -
Our love seems so new to mean so much,
And, for all my years, friendships,
The vitality of my mind, past success,
I suddenly feel foolish -
As if I had attempted to take a treat
From a jar I emptied earlier.
Do I mistake the wonder
Of your unfolding for love?
Is it the child in me,
Forced too soon into adult roles,
That reaches out to nurture you?
And, more than half a world apart,
Can love find a common ground?
I shrug off my doubts like autumn leaves
And wait for the spring of a new day,
My mind already anticipating the postman's steps.
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Bri's Notes:
If any reader wants to know how to make 'Wasn'T' (in the above title) into 'Wasn't', ask me. :) bri
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11 - by Andy Brookes
Baking Day
Why bother?
why the bother?
exclamation marks added by reader.
what reader?
reading what?
Gasps, cries of author! Author!
lamb to the slaughter.
more added clauses
claws dug in,
reader adds surprise.
author adds tears, blood, sweat, and despair
supply imagination
mix hey
presto
poems ready to bake
on medium heat or gas mark four
add self raising pride
ego is optional, not essential.
time to cut into individual bites
and share.
Reader applauds.
author's demure
a sham modesty.
possibly
bake again tomorrow?
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10 - by Bharati Nayak
A Verse For My Friend
When I find friends like you
who is so far away
who never saw me,
who did not know
whether I am real or virtual,
I question myself
whether this is a reality
or part of dream.
'Look at me from a distance
feel me as a music
Let me flow through your pen
and pain as moon beam
And remember me
as a part of your poetry
A part of your dream
and distant from reality.'
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Bri's Note:
Because of what i wrote in the Bri's Note for poem #9, above, i am giving Bharati a second 'slot' in this Section B.
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9 - by Bharati Nayak
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas my friends
My friends in Italy and France
Friends in America and England
Friends in India, Russia, China and Iran
Friends in Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Pakistan
Friends in East and West
Friends in North and South
Merry Christmas Fabrizio
Merry Christmas Daniel
Merry Christmas Pamela
Merry Christmas Sophy Chen
Merry Christmas
.Valsa, Savita, Kirti, Rajnis, Jess, Bri and Edward
Merry Christmas
Tony, Queeny, Sayeed, Denis and Siddarth
At this moment I feel we are one
Bounded by one gold chain
Let our joint hands
Plant a Christmas tree of Love
And build a house of Hope
Decorate it with stars of kindness
Light candles of beautiful smiles
Let our World be full of bliss
Wish you friends with all my heart
A very very Happy Christmas.
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8 - by Savita Tyagi
Happy New Year!
The year two thousand sixteen is about to end
The Crescent moon is peaceful like a baby
Unaware of what goes on around-
Unaware of a new year about to start on earth.
It shines and smiles in his own world not knowing
How its smiling moonbeams reaching down to millions
Create a festive and peaceful evening upon a quiet home
Away from a loud and boisterous New Year's Eve.
In peace, with heart full of love I welcome
The crescent moon and the cycle of another new year.
Wishing all my poet friends and readers a happy new year
With peace and joy.
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7 - by John Westlake
541. A Day With Sky
We meet at a private airport
where I take you up in a green Piper Arrow
to see the sun rise over the horizon
signalling the start of a fantastic day
When land we go to the nearest stables
where two fine white mares wait patiently for us
the stable hands help you mount up
while I settle the price of the hire
We gallop through the forest all morning
laughing and singing as we ride
it doesn't matter that you have forgotten the words
and I am badly out of tune
We have lunch on a grassy hilltop
to let our steeds graze happily
as we enjoy our own lunch
hearing only the songs of birds
as we revel in the tranquillity
When we get back I take you to town
to buy you a suitable dress and shoes for the evening
carefully selecting items that will be a perfect fit
while you are being pampered in a salon
With your hair and nails done we retreat to a nice hotel
for us both to shower and get changed for the evening
you look stunning in your sky blue dress and heels
complimenting my navy tux with shiny black shoes
We would go to the best seaside restaurant for dinner
not caring about the cost of the food
I refuse to show you the bill when I pay
shredding it carefully so you don't see
We watch the sun set on the beach
and I put my jacket around your shoulders
am not ready to go home just yet
and have one last surprise for you
The boat is waiting for us at the jetty when we arrive
a green Cranchi Z35
I cast off and start the engines
opening up the throttle to maximum
taking us out to sea
After an hour I stop the engines
so only the sound of the sea can be heard
we sit and talk under the full moon
knowing that we have complete privacy
Eventually I realise you're getting tired
and carefully navigate our way back to the jetty
no one is around when we get back
as I tie up the boat carefully
We get a taxi to take you home
you doze off in the back seat
only waking up when we are outside your door
and I have settled with the driver
I hug you good night and say good bye
I do not leave until I hear you lock the door
then I know that you will be safe
and hopefully undisturbed as you sleep
As I made my way home I smile
at the fun had between you and I
I look forward to the next occasion
when I can spend a special day with Sky
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6 - by Clarence Prince
I Wish You: Peace!
You will ever need your peace
It's what will give your life ease
Then a life with it gets a good treat
It has value nothing dares to beat
To me, He whispers sweet peace
It brings my soul a great ease
Many people are seeking for riches
As it can put food in those dishes
It can settle some of your wishes
It can put clothes on your back
It can bring you fame in a big stock
But this it seemed to have lacked
Since it made some people blocked
The beauty of having sweet peace
To me, He whispers sweet peace
And my soul finds a great ease
There is peace in Christ for all
He will give to those that'll call....
It's better than silver and gold
So, whether you are young or old
Your soul will need to be at ease
Then seek the PRINCE of PEACE
To me, He whispers sweet peace
And my soul finds immense peace
I wish you: Peace!
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5 - by Della Perry
The Wolverhampton Wanderer
Where it is cold and damp
Where it is dark
Where smell is dank and old
Where the birds no longer sing
Below the knowing clouds
Where I dream of that place I once called home.
Where the faces are unfriendly
Where the atmosphere is thick
Where my senses itch with unease
Where there are echoes of unspoken words
Below the burning stars
Where I yearn for that place I once called home.
Where there is no air
Where there is no warmth
Where no family does exist
Where the sun refuses to ever shine
Below the raging skies
Where I return to that place I once called home.
For when life is hard
I know I can never leave it behind
That special home town of mine.
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4 - by Eugene Levich
A Unique Fellow
All you literate and erudite readers
Certainly know
There's no such thing as
'Very Unique, '
Unique means one (and only one!) of a kind'
I don't remember his name
But I think he truly was one of a kind
No possible copies
I met him years ago in a writing class
The New School
In Manhattan
We read and discussed
Each other's stuff
I don't remember what I wrote
He was writing a play
I don't remember about what
He was an Apache
A World War Two
Marine veteran
Iwo Jima and Okinawa
He was tall and handsome and gay
We became friends because of boats
He knew I had something for a woman in that class
(Turned out she had a fiancé, alas)
He preferred men
I preferred women
He preferred rum
I preferred bourbon
When my Apache came back from the war to Arizona,
He told me,
Indians couldn't vote
Couldn't be buried in white cemeteries
He moved to Miami,
Saw an ad for a sailboat, no description
Owned by a physician now dead
He asked the doc's widow how much she wanted
She replied, 'How much you got? '
He said, 'Five hundred dollars'
She said, 'I'll take it; I just want to get rid of the damned thing.'
He looked at the boat, a two mast fifty-five foot ketch
With radar and every electronic device you could think of
Worth a fortune
He didn't have five hundred bucks
But sold his car to make up the difference
The boat was his home
He took out passengers on cruises
Then began running rum from Cuba
And, I think,
Guns into Cuba
I had been refitting an old wrecked racing sloop
For a year, and had just put it back in the water.
My Apache friend traveled by subway with me from Manhattan
To Mill Basin in Brooklyn
To help me step the thirty-two foot mast,
Something I couldn't do alone
When the class ended I sold my boat
Moved to Chicago
Never saw my Apache friend again
Marines make close friends in the Corps
They get transferred, killed, discharged
You lose contact
Was there ever in the world any other
Gay, Apache, Marine combat veteran, playwright
With a glorious sailboat
Who ran guns and rum in and out of Cuba?
That is what I mean by unique
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3 - by Lynn W. Petty
On Being A Grandfather
For Ryan, My Grandson.
My first encounter with him was when we were left
alone in the same room. There he sat,
on the floor, plump and fleshy, a blob of protoplasm, with large
dancing eyes.
Carefully, distantly, I circled him, ensuring that I
was not drawn into the magnetism of his being.
I was not to be fooled by his beguiling mannerisms.
He was being cute, making funny faces and sounds,
attempting to enchant me into picking him up.
No, no, no, not I! !
How dare he enter my life, changing the image of myself,
creating an unwanted persona, which I was unprepared to act,
and unwilling to accept.
I maintained a somewhat removed and distant relationship,
cordial, but I kept some space between us.
As time continued, he was beginning to say a few words.
Our relationship became less distant, and I actually looked
forward to the weekends, without expressing aloud
any anticipation of his arrival.
He and I would walk together, just the two of us.
We would walk along meandering pathways, past
fountains and duck-filled ponds, enjoying the day.
That was the day he, in his trickery, feigned fatigue,
extended his arms for me to lift him up,
which I, falling into his trap, did.
I looked into his face and could see he was trying to say something,
but his mouth was unable to formulate his thought.
As he struggled to enunciate the word,
that lay mute upon his lip and tongue, he laid his head
upon my shoulder and into my ear
he uttered the most glorious word ever spoken:
'Bampa! ! '
Rich, deep, mellow, full, the word filled my brain
like a pealing church bell fills the country-side,
as it echoes and re-echoes off the shoulders of the empurpled hills
at vesper time.
I staggered in sweet intoxication, having drunk the elixir of its sound.
Half choked by a rising tremor of love, I,
in all its spiritual, physical and literal meaning,
had become a Grandfather.
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2 - by M.J. Lemon
When
When the great Pine groans
and a blade of grass stands straight
the bright Sun signals
an end of repose the end
of darkness' prison on earth
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1 - by Bri Edwards
Panties Showing.... [limerick...So It's Short! ; Peeping O'Reilly? ]
Her silk panties showed when she bent over...
to search the lawn for a four-leafed clover.
She caught the nervous eyes....
and caused the lustful sighs...
of a nearby, panting, Irish rover.
(September 18,2013)
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Poet's Note:
I would NEVER look! :) but I DO have a little ‘Irish blood' in me. ;)
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[up to a maximum of 15 poems in each Section]
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NOW: if you have read your 'fill' from the treats above, please consider going to Section C of January's showcase ……..when it is open.
Thanks
bri :)
Bri Edwards
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem