POETS ALL OVER THE WORLD

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Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:37pm

"My China Doll."

My sweet china doll, my extraordinary dream, my amazing love , you, softly rapped in a beautiful soft brown sheen.

The passion of my heart, the reason for my thoughts, you are my one true queen. Without you my mind would surely fail heart black and thick, my dreams dark and pointless, lost without you in worship.

You’re purr of approval is my destination your soft brown eyes give me clues to its direction, finding that love in your glance is my primal satisfaction.

You’re grand adventures- your lazy day whim’s all
out wit any wants that pass through my life. My every bit goes to thoughts of you. I drink your love like sweet spring dew.

If I died right this moment, this cool fall night ,my last thoughts would be of you; my loving wife. For I would fight with all my devices, all my breath until my energy faded into that cold dark night. Scratching and biting as I drift from this world all my thoughts of you my love , my love in a beautiful soft brown sheen.

In my dreams I scour this earth in search to capture that one uncommon fragrance to match your rapture. Forbidding all others in its indulgence, for only my single love can adorn this gift -enthronement .

Not a single second not a flash in time. Not a particular word or a turn of phrase, not the heat of noon nor the coldest of days. I can image not one single thing. Not made from fire wind nor stone, not forged from the finest of metals or carved into the richest of woods. Not of flesh or law , not for plead or demand. I can not draw a focus seeing it there. I do not know of one thing able to barricade my love for you, for my love in a beautiful brown sheen…

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:37pm

Delete Comment "Change by other means.”

I love people, I love change, and as I mix these two important ingredients together I hear the most amazing stories. I headed to the local nation of Wal-Mart to stock my cold room for the winter and ran face first into a woman that changed history. As I stood waiting for the wife searching for fabric to make her famous bag keepers, I noticed an older lady short in height, gray in hair, gentle in nature. I watched her and listened to her talk about when she first was married and had to cook on a wood fire then life progressed and she cooked on gas then electric. Now she’s back to cooking on wood. I got in on the conversation and we talked about cooking with flat pans this lead into life’s general niceties until we ended up talking about her employment with a local coal mine.

Why I called this letter “change by other means “is because change happens whether you want or need it to. Our nation was foundered on change, and everyday we strive to change what is not beneficial to the masses, well at least we try. One of the strongest movements that want change is that fight of the female sex. Growing up I was programmed to believe that woman were the weaker sex, and without a strong man they would be selling themselves on the street. Well that was my thoughts then, I know better now. I see women in a new light. Woman, they are amazing, and the world would end without them. lets face it, two guys can’t make babies, they can practice all they like, but can’t make that human. As hard as I try other then sexual organs I don’t know of a single difference between woman and men.

Women have fought for this weird thing called equality, like they need permission to have it. What is even stranger are those that do not fight at all, they are happy being a servant of another. History gives you the stories of those that put up a fight to change the thinking of those that oppress them. History will show you those that stood on the mountain top demanding respect. What history hides are those that changed history, not for reward, not for power, not for status, but for necessity

As I’m listening to this woman talk about her days in the mines I realize that she was a trail blazer, a silent promoter for the cause and she didn‘t even know it. She said she was a bolt cutter and some sort of counter in the mines. I may be wrong about her under ground job, but what she did as an employee was unimportant. I listened as this tiny woman tells me about her days fighting off male workers, earning respect as a worker in the depths of our earth. She told me that three women entered that mine and three women stayed there, 10 years they worked there over harassment and treat. They worked there not to make a statement they worked there not to be noticed, they worked there because they had to.

G.D. lore (I hope I get the spelling correct), that’s her name. A local Fayette County girl, a coal miner and a figure in silent history. She, by working in that mine opened doors, showing the world she had no time for their issues. She had to feed her children, buy health insurance. She didn’t understand she was a special someone. Even though she didn’t stand up and ask for respect, she made them give it to her. She worked for a pay check, not to prove a point. She didn’t care that it was the mob days ,she didn’t care if it was a “mans world” she needed to do what she needed to do even if no one else wanted her to do it.. Our world is a better place for it; our world is a better place because of G.D. lore.

Lately, over the last ten years the lines are becoming blurred between men and women in the work force. What you have in your pants is slowly slipping out of the standards. We had a great chance for a woman to be president; we have a man of color at that door now. We have woman as leaders with as much respect as any man can get. We have single moms providing for their children, earning a living without a male figure to guide them along the path. We’ve had great bounds in respect for the sexes, the races, and personal beliefs, almost, almost we have quality. Without those that just did it, not wanting for fame, not asking for permission, we may not be in the great place we are today.

So the next time you feel like you are being held back or under appreciated, think of G.D. Lore as she worked in that dark hole fighting sexism and coal dust, she helped you make it to the place you are today. She held open that door to better things. Without those that fight the passive fight we would be lost. Take this letter as inspiration, and a word to the wise, you don’t have to put up a fight for your rights, you already have them, like Nike says Just do it & ” Change by other means.”

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:37pm

To Whom It May Concern, those in the dark dead of night, acting with the care and honor of an American soldier standing hard and right… To those dug in -waiting for the command to defend, holding tight the dreams of a Nation faced with fanatical nightmares, you fight. Far from your bed, void of those comforts you protect unselfishly. You are our hero’s fighting for this Flag, protecting our beliefs from the tyranny of another. We thank you.

To all those that walked in the shadow of death surviving but to be abandoned, your pain sits deep in our heart. Your sacrifices are remembered by those that judge you not. Each morning we awake owing our freedom to you. We Thank you.


The loses are not without pain, so many growing up with only stories of fallen Hero’s .Mothers brothers and fathers, sister’s cousin’s uncles and aunts, memories. Now just stories of heroism placed far off in a land lost in history . They fought the enemy for the families they left behind, paying that utmost toll so as We , America, would never experience such pain.

To all those that put a Hero to rest, we can do nothing but thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Be proud to know they will live forever in our story’s as the saviors of our land. We will never again forget those that left this life in defense of ours. We thank you with tears in our heart. But to remember ,they are in our thoughts always reminding us where we came from.

We thank You

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:36pm

At last, At last. At long last! Finally the people of this Great Nation are coming to bare wittiness to the unadulterated power we gave away to the few. Realizing this power has imposed a pain filled blow to the whole of our land. We have begun to awake, shaking off the drunken haziness like a bad dream that haunts our thoughts. The clear images of our selfishness have come to be realized. Now in this monumental storm we decide to fight and righteously so! We have begun to stand and take inventory of our loses, tallying the scores of our ill advised actions. We can now count the burnt corpse of our values piled a top of our pride. We see in the distance hardship encroaching upon us with haste and durability; unless fended off we will be not better then the hangman himself. Not just those that fritter away their rights; us, all, even cautious ones stand to lose greatly. We see the seriousness and a need for our intervention. Finally we stand ready for action-at long last.

As we administer aid to our blighted wounds we find them deeper and more diseased then we first assumed. Not to late to the cause ,you, those willing to be the first to stand and begin the healing. . A first the few, the brave,
will stand. Out of their chasms of self imposed blindness they come, into the trenches ready willing and able to fight. Soldiers of freedom - weapons for the American way. Citizen’s of and for those fear ridden or too weak to stand on their own. . A new breed, empowered by knowledge, filled with courage, and fresh to the fight - they have arrived.

Stand up and be counted, show your dissention, give ointment for the wound. Your pathway, dear fighter, will be blockaded by lying goats of the few. Deceptive Self serving “yes” men waving documents penned by the hand of traitors, thievery misleadingly covered in Democratic binders. Puppets for the greedy, sucking on the bones of ill gotten power. They will challenge you at every adventure, provoking. Look past these dogs to their masters, a hand full of string pullers, hiding in our blind spot. Demand to be heard, do not be as gracious as to be courteous to power that we rightfully command. Poofs of smoke are their tool ‘s of oppression. Tricks and time their only weapons . To these greedy few we are but worker ants, know nothings not worth a glance. Our silence allowing them to pilfer our purses .Once we stood as faithful followers, good boys and girls ,But No longer!

A word to the wise, a crumb of help this is all I can offer, and I offer it as my small part. Those that are first to the front will not be greeted with fan fair; your fight will be that of getting the attention of those ignoring our cries. Your work will be tiresome with little reward. The path you lay with sweat and tears will give the foundation for others to forge quickly to the front. Have a solid chin and the power of the many as your support. Be brave and know that their only true weapon is a lying tongue.

To you those that find themselves at the end of our sword, I reach my hand across the heavy abridged wall that stands between us. We ask for nothing but a fair life and happiness. I offer you a short space in time to so you can come to your senses and realize your time of mismanagement is over. We demand change, we demand freedom, and we demand a voice. Take this letter as fair worrying for this will be our last. We are growing- awaking to a dark world and a bleak future under your direction and we stand to loss it all. We are here for change, for the betterment of our future ,by any measure a civilized person can muster , change it will be. We will rally as an educated mass and descend upon your throne demanding change or working as one for a equal share of the work and reward. These are your chooses for we hold the keys to the door you lock in our faces.

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:36pm

"Winters wrath"


Bitterly chomping down to the bone, my god man, don’t you have pity? You horrible bastard, forsaken son of her majesty. She flung onto us you’re misery, through cosmetic actions your were born, chaotically mixed with deviant precision; violence rapped in a northern storm. Joyous I wonder, are you full of glee? Does your raise of terror give you pleasure? Do these deeds please your mother?

On the twilight of the year you arrive with your silent death, little seen nor heard just your furious assault felt. You easily slipping through the careless openings left by a arrogant men. A! -But first we fight to preserve, at much cost we retract to prolong our sure death. Few stand and face you down; fools only partake in defiance of your humbling devastation .

Fancily dressed scholars with crystal balls, so called educated minds of the ages pile up loosely found evidence patronizing your supremacy. They sit tall, predicting your arrival with contempt for your wreath.” Like Clock work” they say . They give you pleasant sounding introductions so to rob you of your power. Calling you old man, as if you were a toothless mute waning in the corner.

Almost jestingly we search for protection. Constructing faux ramparts hoping they insulate us from your hostility. We barricade our doors and turn down the lights wishing you will vanish in the night. . A sympathetic assassin at end your pleasure does not derive from our pain. Slowly chipping away at our armor, waiting ,bidding your time. Like a cunning rapture you await your moment constantly pecking at the cracks. Before you roam into the hills searching your next meal, they are at work sounding the alarms. They close the blinds tight and huddle around the flame awaiting your departure. Everyone predicts your swath of pain, how timorous you will be and how they will duck your swing.

I am not the fool, I hold you in immense regard. Do not take me as a foe; I truly admire your toil. I kneel at your feet in aw, begging you to teach me your powers. A renegade surely you are; taking from you’re behavior. You seem to find your most joy only when there is no father. Can I ask ? Why do they cater soul-y to the others, does that not make you angry? You’re Mother and Him, giving them all the attention! What do they possess that has you lacking? Nothing! They are but children! You’ve been there from the start a faithful son as everlasting. Flora gets all their love warmth care and admiration. Amber that bitch, who does she think she is? Flaunting her carefree existence . They are treated to the best, wildly running with little care. They have all they’d ever need but greedy they steal what belongs to you. How can they not see your power, you are perfection in everyway!

Why- your mere presents makes the ground turn hard and water stop its flow. Your weight of nothing carries more destruction then all of your siblings combine. But still you are doomed to wonder this earth restricted by chains, shackled from the very reason you were given life .


Why do they hate you so, you are just acting your role. Born a monster to this earth and hidden away like a failure. Chained to the porch like a dog given just enough rope to chase the rabbit. So my dear GOD case your grasp afar and break those chains that bind you. Exact chaos on this land show Mother and Father what their cold hearts have done. Sweep across this world in a furious wave , freezing all to their winters grave.

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:35pm

I wish I could visit my grandfather at the best time in his life, there when he took the alpha path. A simply gentle human harboring neither anger nor with wraith, dedicated of a man with two children and a doting wife.

I know these thoughts of grandeur has limits to its weave, thus I would give us twelve hours before he would leave. If I could only cut somehow through space, stand proudly next this men and his grace. A trip to visit the pillar that helped structure me this man, lessons from afar, he who slept sound with workmen’s hands.

I would first study the sublime, that of the humble hero of mine. My mind would most likely being going in odd directions; shower him in love and deep affection. I would introduce myself, as he’s daughter’s son, the child of his only one. I would hug him all that I can, and then greet him as if he was another man.

Just tiny as I remember, carrying garden ties and raw cut timber. Always at the garden or in that basement, dim and cold, color gold and amber. Here and there, he would go teaching me those lessons; surely, I would like to show him their conclusions

If I could now bring him through the decades in appreciation, to show him the bricks he laid with his gentle disposition. From the sky, I would suggest a majestic trip, my grandfather and me float high through the rip.

A big red balloon I would fashion the craft, with blinking white lights for attraction attached. A drawstring bag of fine tobacco, fresh, accompanied by an elaborately handcrafted bone pipe. Two large liters of ale, a few green onions and the trip would be right.

I hope I can hold my excitement and not ramble on, I am sure I will be in awe like a mothers fond. I want to show him the legacy he has left. The lessons he taught me when I was o so wee, they laid on my heart with incredible heft.

Work was necessity and ale was its prize, tend to those needs that grants them happy lives.

Up in the air, the first I would point out; that cold day when the after life was his route. Not long, we would hover to show him this trouble. On with the trip we would go, through the ages of change both highs and low.

Look, there pap watch as the highway grows, over the hills to points unknown. Brightly tinted roofs with families in shelter. Heat pumped in for the curb, milk, safe cold and it just got better. Look at the inhabitants of the times; mother, your daughter all women breaking that binds. Our land makes peace with the world, a sight never so glorious. Then the generations at home grow engrossing us. Times became passionate, and leaders steer the course. Freedom cried through out the whole, many thought it would just get worse. Time went on and wounds did heal, times now are for the new ideal.

Our ship advanced on the warm lift of the day, we open our dew-covered bottles toasting to the sway. I tell him of my children and the life I try to provide, I tell him of the love I shall never hide. I tell him of the stories he does premiere, I am sure the tales now bored them to tears. A puff on the pipe he took as he listened, smoke rolled from his mouth as he starred into the distance. I talk of the new and the old, the advancements in life and the sad stories that need told.

Soon in our sight my time in the moment, the wife and boys cheer in excitement. Down we descend our big red ball; I was so excited to share I could not hide it all.
.A flick of the switch and the lights did dance, marking our coming, our sure advance. Slowly the basket landed flat, I exited first then did him adjusting his wool knit hat.

The introductions were given kindly; all the” how do you does “and” Thank you’s “were timely. My handsome sons, wife, all three, standing talking to an honest branch on our tree. We sat in a circle as the sun warmed our backs; slowly the conversations became more relaxed. The boys asked of times past as the wife laughed, we pulled weed in the garden I wish this could last. Pap stood as the sun was loosing its lead, out of his pocket he draw a single sin-sin seed. It was time for my fantasy to close; I have so many things to say before he goes.

Pap turns and thanks me for this enlightenment; he is joyful to see his life had significance. I realized I had talked the entire trip, I told you I would ramble on quite a bit. I was so thrilled I hogged up the day, gabbing at his ear the entire way. He turned and said he was proud to see I followed his compass, and then he disappeared into velvet red distance. I wish I could visit my grandfather at the best time in his life, there when he took the alpha path.

Comment by ABC4All GlobiVersity on March 2, 2009 at 8:42pm

Poetry? Prose? Neither? Both? You vote!
http://ABC4All.net/poll.htm

Comment by DANIELA on February 11, 2009 at 3:59am

I agree with Robert, Domy, your words reflect spritual love. Beautiful. You keep surprising me.
Love to you both.
Daniela

Comment by domenica64 on February 10, 2009 at 10:39pm

Se mi chiedi cos'è un' emozione, ti risponderei ascolta il silenzio che ti avvolge insieme a tutte le tue sensazioni , che ti portano luce la dovè cè il buio, dove la notte è più fredda, dove il sole è più forte.
ti parlerei di momenti trascorsi nell'attesa di un tuo sorriso, di un tuo abbraccio,
ti parlerei con la voce del cuore e ti chiamerei con la voce dell'Amore!.
ti prenderei per mano per farti vedere tutti i colori dell'Arcobaleno che brillano al solo pensarti, al solo pronunciare il tuo nome, al solo vedere la tua immagine.
Ecco cos'è un' emozione:
sentirti accanto. nel cuore e nell'Anima.
domenica64

Comment by DANIELA on February 10, 2009 at 10:34pm

Let me tell you about a song for you
Sung by a wanderer of far lands
Who wants to offer you a gift
He bows and holds it in his hands
He sings of a love like none other
A love beyond beds and warm embrace
Like a river that runs in a rippling stream
This love makes dreams fall into place
He asks you to pause just for one moment
To hold up your hand and say halt
Do you hear words that laugh and dance?
Words that give reasons to exalt?
Do you read poems of life and love?
Of glancing eyes and happy sighs?
Stories that touch and exhilarate
And tell you how your soul can fly?
If he can teach you how to love...
Oh no not only love one poet
But to love everything that you can touch
And open up your heart to show it
He wishes your words to flow
Like rays from a rainbow arch
To express a joyful bubbling love
And then reach out and feel its touch

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