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  • Viviana Armadillo (12/29/2013 3:09:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Full of Memories Trilogy

    Part 1:

    Chapter 1: Afternoon Tea

    As I walk along a woody path
    I notice a little cottage beside it.
    And in front of it sat a little old woman
    with leaf-like clothing with colors of the Fall
    I approach the woman with such curiosity.
    " What you staring' at, you rascal?
    Not come to rob me, 'ave ya?" asks the woman angrily.
    I jump back startled and surprise, shaking my head.
    She grunts as she stands and walks to her house.
    " Come in and have tea with me, " said the woman.
     
    I walked behind her, refusing to see her wrath.
    Once inside, the cottage was candle lit.
    Small tables and chairs and walls covered with writings of omen.
    Portraits of people hanging on the mantle, both big and small.
    Some looked rather disdained and filled with frailty.
    Others tired, old, weary, and historical.
    And also seems like they liked to live dangerously
    with scars on their faces, making the life they may have lead.
    " My great-great grandma once had a mouse, "
    said the woman.
     
    " Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable."
    The woman had laid out the items for the afternoon tea.
    Smelling the cookies, I quickly sat down in the little chair.
    I grimaced as the chair groaned under my weight.
    She pours the tea into a small cup
    and gave me a cookie, which smells really good.
    Then we start talking about the years of seasons
    And so many other things that we lost track of time.
    After we realized that we had talked through the afternoon
    and into the morning, she guided me to a guest bed and slept.
     
    I woke with a start in a position that was uncomfortable.
    Then I realized that the afternoon tea was a dream
    and am wrestling with my tangled hair.
    I come into the kitchen and saw on my table a paper with a date.
    And also some scribbling about a hut
    Through the paper was some faint coloration that is really good.
    Then the dream came to me with reasons
    to be held about my crime.
    Thinking of the leaves coloring in my mind like yellow and maroon.
    and thinking of the woman whom I owe to with my debt.

    Chapter 2: A Child's Dream

    I woke with a start in a position that was uncomfortable.
    Then I realized that the afternoon tea was a dream
    and am wrestling with my tangled hair.
    I come into the kitchen and saw on my table a paper with a date.
    And also some scribbling about a hut.
    Through the paper was some faint coloration that is really good.
    Then the dream came to me with reasons
    to be held about my crime.
    Thinking of the leaves coloring in my mind like yellow and maroon.
    And thinking of the woman whom I owe to with my debt.
     
    As I look up, I see a pair of eyes glaring at me from the table.
    Seeing the reflection of a woman I once knew;
    No longer to be the same as she used to be.
    Snapping back into reality,
    it is just what I've been hiding from all these years.
    Looking back into the eyes of a child,
    I notice the same features as the old woman.
    I stand here wondering of what I've witnessed
    there laid the items for the afternoon tea
    on the plastic play set of my daughter's.
     
    There was the chair I sat in which is now bent below the table.
    A plastic cookie that I had now had a bite in it on top of a team
    of other fake cookies and now I wouldn’t dare
    to look at my daughter's tear stained face, reminding me of the date
    in the old woman's hut.
    And now I feel like a complete dud.
    In all my years and seasons,
    destroying my daughter's dream is my crime
    and I'm mentalizing that I'm on a quicksand dune
    for having my daughter's play set and imagination wrecked.
    Now I'm completely uncomfortable
    of the damage and wondering what was my due
    of the bill so I can see
    her happy again without frailty.
    She is what I hold as I did with the woman as my dears
    and She didn’t see me go wild
    at this table of such bad omen
    that my daughter has witnessed.
    If this is what I'll be,
    then I'll be in the beef slaughters.

    Chapter 3: The Last Alaskan Thought

    Now I'm completely uncomfortable
    of the damage and wondering what was my due
    of the bill so I can see
    her happy again without frailty.
    She is what I hold as I did with the woman as my dears
    and She didn’t see me go wild
    at this table of such bad omen
    that my daughter has witnessed.
    If this is what I'll be,
    then I'll be in the beef slaughters.
     
    Seeing what I have destroyed has sent a strange chill down my spine,
    remembering the woman who I haven’t seen in years.
    For the snow clouds start to rumble in the east,
    my day is rather dark as I feel the freezing wind on my face.
    First, dreaming of the old woman in the woods that one autumn day.
    Now, I’ve discovered that I’ve ruined my daughter’s play set.
    The darkness in my mind has caused me to feel so bitter about myself.
    As I sit here on this park bench on a winter afternoon,
    I listen to the winter wind and heard the old woman’s voice.
    It sounded as chilling as the wind.
     
    The wind got stronger and unbearable
    and it started to snow and the flurries had whitely dew
    the ground and there are bare spots to see.
    Now since I’m back to reality,
    I began to have my fears
    that all my thoughts went back to my child
    and the old woman.
    I don’t know how much my daughter witnessed
    but I knew that she realized it wasn’t me.
    I wonder how that greatly impacted my daughter’s
     
    Mind. But I’m sure she’ll be fine.
    With all my years,
    I’m remembering that feast
    at the old woman’s place.
    Away from home and was allowed to stay
    For the night and seeing my debt
    Owed to woman, I allowed myself
    To bring her along with me to my house which had soon
    Be ransacked and everything inside was destroyed and everyone gone and I had no choice
    But to stay with the woman who had grinned.
     
    Now the snow is getting worse
    and I am slightly submerse
    under the snow.
    Thinking about my daughter, I went through the flow
    of snow and wind
    Which prickled my exposed skin if I had sinned.
    I walked for 18 miles in the Alaskan snow.
    Wild winds blowing across the snow covered chateau.
    When I came inside the house,
    it is as warm as a smokehouse

    Part 2:

    Chapter 4: Knowing the Old Woman

    Knowing where I want to be
    As I stand at the mantle looking at the pictures.
    But then I turn around, as the door swings open.
    I grab my pipe and walk towards the door.
    A soft autumn breeze has come into the cottage.
    I walk out the door and slam it shut,
    Making it tightly shut so it won’t swing open.
    I sit down onto the log that fell last winter
    In front of my cottage and I made it into a bench.
    And I light my pipe taking in the autumn breeze.
    Then there to my right, I have come to see
    A child of thirteen, looking likes one of those Ashlars.
    Looking like she was as white as a lighthouse beacon
    Or a bouquet of orchid fleur.
    And I certainly can talk to this piece of carnage
    And offer her a goblet
    Of tea as a bargain.
    Then I’ll alter
    And have her wrench
    In my grasp and have myself to appease.
    As much to my wonder, she came up to me.
    Then I’d barked, “What you staring at, you rascal?
    Not come to rob me, ‘ave ya?”
    I knew I startled the child,
    For the child had jumped back scared and nodding.
    I stand and walk to my door and opened it
    “Come have tea with me, ” I said.
    I heard her coming.
    And then we came into my little cottage
    Which was candle lit.
     
    The child looked around, that I could see.
    To her, I knew, was historical.
    I’m thinking to myself, “Now I ‘ave ya.”
    As I went about the cottage to gather the items and set them as wild
    I said, “Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable, ” as I was aiming
    To catch her in my mitt,
    As the child sat down for the smelling of the cookies, who, of course, I fed.
    I handed her a cookie and told her stories of my ancestors as I was bending
    Her will until it was passed the sky after moonlit.
     
    Then I showed her the guest bed
    And when she fell asleep, all the cookies I fed
    Her with had begun to take effect.
    She said in the candle lit room, my plan was perfect,
    About her family of Ashlars
    And where she lived while dreaming of dreamt pictures.
    I scurried off and destroyed the family and what was inside.
    I destroyed the evidence, which could’ve backslide.
    When I came to my cottage, the child was awake
    And showed me the way to her house which made her heart break.
    So I took her in with me
    And taught her to be courtly.

    Chapter 5: The Dying Woman

    Then I showed her the guest bed
    And when she fell asleep, all the cookies I fed
    Her with had begun to take effect.
    She said in the candle lit room, my plan was perfect,
    About her family of Ashlars
    And where she lived while dreaming of dreamt pictures.
    I scurried off and destroyed the family and what was inside.
    I destroyed the evidence, which could’ve backslide.
    When I came to my cottage, the child was awake
    And showed me the way to her house which made her heart break.
    So I took her in with me
    and taught her to be courtly.
    As the years went passed,
    the child has become a beautiful young woman
    And I have become too old and fragile
    And my mind has become confused with fantasy and reality.
    Anytime I had a fit, I would leak out a secret or two.
    So one day, I let it known to what I did with the Ashlars.
    Before I realized on what I had said, I found her bed untouched
    And a note explaining that she had run off.
    Now I realize what my mistake the moment I read the note.
    I went around the valley where the Indians still grazed
    And I went around the nearest town to find the Ashlars girl.
    There were times when I approach someone and they would have an omen
    For they were afraid I was one of the fairy folk and they looked fearful.
    I looked all over the place until I came about an abbey.
    And the monks at the abbey, I asked them to look for the girl so I can say adieu.
    They brought the Ashlars girl who was with the available bachelors
     
    In town but she was still untouched.
    She asked the monks to help treat a cough
    That I had for days and could not create an antidote.
    She was surprised and amazed
    That I hadn’t died and made her churl.
    There in the abbey I laid
    And my eyes began to fade
    And I called the girl to come to say my last wishes
    I wanted her to burn my body into ashes.
    And I told her to keep the cottage
    Since she could use it for marriage.
    As I said my last wishes to her
     
    She told me that she was marrying a banker.
    At last someone who can take care of the girl
    Who would treat her as a pearl.
    I closed my eyes and dreamt
    She never did attempt
    To wake me.

    Chapter 6: The Banker's Mother

    There in the abbey I laid
    and my eyes began to fade
    and I called the girl to come to say my last wishes,
    I wanted her to burn my body into ashes.
    And I told her to keep the cottage
    since she could use it for marriage.
    As I said my last wishes to her,
    she told me that she was marrying a banker.
    At last someone who can take care of the girl
    who would treat her as a pearl.
    I closed my eyes and dreamt
    She never did attempt
    to wake me.

    As I have passed away,
    I was still in the abbey but saw my body
    in the bed that the monks had laid me.
    I saw a man coming behind the Ashlars girl
    and she looked up with a tear stained face
    and met with the man’s face who didn’t look like a monk.
    His face is in the shadows still and when he came to the light,
    I realized that he’s my son.
    I should’ve known he became a banker.
    Now I know that our autumn village blood would go on.
    He brought with him a bouquet
    And rested it on me as I look dreamy.
    He bowed and the Ashlars girl does the curtsy.
    A monk approaches with a ring that has a pearl
    And there at the altar a priest came to pace

    With a monk
    Behind him and the wedding began as the two began to recite.
    After my son and the girl have wed, they went to the cottage as she looks like a beacon.
    “I remember when this cottage was still made of cedar, ”
    said my son as he touched the hanging argon.
    The girl turns around looking surprised
    Her expression could not be disguised.
    “The old woman who died in the abbey was my mother, ”
    my son said, as his wife was to be in anger.
    And then he lightly kissed her lips
    As he was on his way to get a cup to have a sip

    Of wine
    “What would be supper for us to dine?”
    asks my son as he sat down
    and drinking the wine, as he later became a clown.
    I wanted to smack and yell
    Before someone rung the bell.
    Later that year, the Ashlars girl have gave birth
    To a little girl who was not her father’s worth.
    After his daughter’s birth, he killed himself.
    By hanging in a room behind the bookshelf.

    Part 3:

    Chapter 7: The History of the Autumn People

    “The girl turns around looking surprised
    Her expression could not be disguised.
    “The old woman who died in the abbey was my mother, ”
    my son said, as his wife was to be in anger.
    And then he lightly kissed her lips
    As he was on his way to get a cup to have a sip
    Of wine
    “What would be supper for us to dine?”
    asks my son as he sat down
    and drinking the wine, as he later became a clown.
    I wanted to smack and yell
    Before someone rung the bell.
    Later that year, the Ashlars girl have gave birth
    To a little girl who was not her father’s worth.
    After his daughter’s birth, he killed himself.
    By hanging in a room behind the bookshelf.”
    This is what my grandma told me.
    Of course, I keep telling my mother that I see a woman
    who is in the pictures with her.
    Which she doesn’t believe me.
    The history of the Autumn people
    started back a few years before the Europeans were appearing.
    The Autumn people had good relations with the Indians.
    And then war broke out between the Europeans and the Indians.
    Of course, the Autumn people were on the Indians’ side of the battle.
    But the Indians and the Autumn lost that battle.
    Now the lineage is lost, just barely.
    I’m the last of the Autumn, acting like a Bedouin.
    From what I know about my father, he was a banker.
    For my mother’s stand point of view, my father looked ashy
    But there’s no pictures of him and kids at my school see me as a Bengal.
    According to legend, the Autumn people had powers from Ireland who were banning
    Them and some were barons
    And most were chieftains.
    This for them was the axel
    Of a turning point of a bramble.
    None of this makes any sense to me yet
    But right now I’m walking in snow that’s making me wet.
    I’m walking home from school
    And I had to sit on a barstool
    For detention.
    Man, I hate school and my classmates.
    My people aren’t in the textbooks and my teacher dictates
    That there were no such people called the Autumn.
    Like my life isn’t gruesome.
    This is the story of my fathom.

    None of this makes any sense to me yet
    But right now I’m walking in snow that’s making me wet.
    I’m walking home from school
    And I had to sit on a barstool
    For detention.
    Man, I hate school and my classmates.
    My people aren’t in the textbooks and my teacher dictates
    That there were no such people called the Autumn.
    Like my life isn’t gruesome.
    This is the story of my fathom.
    Now I’m living in Alaska
    With my mother.
    I have homework that the teacher wants
    Us to write about our family history.
    How I write about my family history if no one believes me?
    ‘Write what you will, ’
    I heard grandma’s voice in my head.
    As I tread along in the knee deep snow,
    I hear a whirring behind me and I turn to look
    To Billy on a snowmobile.
    He zooms past me drenching me in snow as if he were a cheetah.
    I’m no babbler
    But Billy daunts
    Very blindly
    On anything he could get his hands on to see.
    I like my Churchill.
    Until I go to bed.
    But to do the family history, I might just have to borrow
    Grandma if mother won’t bite the hook.
    I don’t think mother is stable.
    But then what do I know?
    All I do is learn like a gecko.
    I continue walking until I see a cabin
    That mother had bought from an ax man.
    I get near it until I smell fresh tomato rice bread.
    Mother makes the best in blood red.
    I race into the door feeling famished
    And asked mother if I could get some fished
    Seal soup and lamp chowder.
    She nods as I put my belongings at my alter.
    And there I sat eating dinner ‘til I had my fill
    Until I went to start my homework was I thrilled.

    Chapter 8: Knowing the Daughter

    Chapter 9: The Last Piece

    But then what do I know?
    All I do is learn like a gecko.
    I continue walking until I see a cabin
    That mother had bought from an ax man.
    I get near it until I smell fresh tomato rice bread.
    Mother makes the best in blood red.
    I race into the door feeling famished
    And asked mother if I could get some fished
    Seal soup and lamp chowder.
    She nods as I put my belongings at my alter.
    And there I sat eating dinner ‘til I had my fill
    Until I went to start my homework was I thrilled.
    There I saw a family tree of the Autumn.
    “Ok, grandma. I know you did this, ”
    I said, low enough for mother not to hear.
    There wasn’t an answer from grandma.
    I went to mother and asked,
    “Did you give me the family tree to go for the family history?”
    She nods without looking up from her book.
    “That Billy of yours came to tell me that you got into detention.
    And he told me about it and also your homework.
    He left 30 minutes before you showed, ” said mother, while still reading.
    “Billy is boredom, ”
    I said, sounding so amiss.
    I looked out the window and saw the snowy frontier,
    Big enough for an outlaw
    Who was masked.
    The snowy frontier gave me a shiver down my spine in site of a banshee.
    “So who was the crook:
    you or the woman who wanted the action?”
    I asked mother as a shadow came to lurk
    In her face while her eyes seems to be barking.
    “Your grandmother was, ”
    said my mother in a desperate cry.
    Then I saw the claws
    Of what took that little girl to espy.
    “Now I get why you wouldn’t tell me, ”
    I said in surprise.
    I wanted to know badly
    But knowing how much my mother’s demise
    For my grandmother but now I have the last piece
    Now I understand
    Of this timeless timepiece.
    That has been in generations to be spanned.
    I return to my room and I did my homework
    As the darkness came to lurk.
    Now our time in this story
    Is over with my history.

  • Mala Shukla (12/29/2013 1:08:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    When Alone
    I brood and think
    Of things that happened
    What could have been said
    If only we could alter
    rub parts of us away
    Knowing full well
    that never can we
    Be other than what
    Impulses make us be
    Hence its elating and wise
    To conjure up rhymes
    Stop up regret
    Alleviate pain
    And through lines
    elegantly define
    Frailty fealty
    And a troubled mind

  • Mala Shukla (12/29/2013 12:44:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Words that comfort
    words that sing
    words with menace
    words with zing
    words that ponder
    words that ache
    words that gather
    words that scatter
    words that wonder
    words unmoved
    Across the ether hoping to find
    Aching, Blighted or simply kind
    A kindered mind.
    It would be nice to know you
    Do get in touch.
    Mala

  • Mala Shukla (12/29/2013 12:33:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Lines Composed In Thanks
    Over long years
    as we smarter and smarter get
    We scoff at Ancients
    Religion Faith Hope and mainly Patience
    We now want proof at the INSTANCE
    So we have now the INTERNET
    We search for ourselves in wire connects
    Despite the Goods and Services that make us Splendidly Independent
    Needing no vile human connect
    Thank You poem hunter
    And the ONES behind its content
    Am I in touch with the wiring
    I thought was long extinct?
    Many Thanks

  • Alok Mishra (12/27/2013 9:35:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Evening Contemplation


    The silent evening; the still wind;
    The world now rests in peace.
    Amid tranquil surrounding and bliss
    What can a poet wish but find
    Some stone and the pen of nature
    To pen the eternal beauty and grace,
    That God showers ever upon us,
    Though we do, we often brush
    The essence with our life on pace
    And pull us away of eternal grace.


    I would like you people to make some contests here, or say then I will make. Thank you

  • Terrance Tracy (12/21/2013 2:43:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Saturday, December 21,2013
    3: 12 AM

    Winter in the south when the north
    wind blows the starlings are gathered in the trees
    gathered by the hundreds flying helter-skelter
    looking for shelter the resounding cacophony
    makes you think of Hitchcock's movie The Birds

    The wind is cold making your cheeks as red
    as the Cardinals we see in the spring wondering
    what this winter will bring four days hot two
    days cold and the seventh day we rest while the
    birds nest.

    Instead of being in bed at 3 AM I am sitting here
    writing poetry while precipitation is falling on my head
    looking for inspiration I will catch my death of cold
    does not matter because I am old.

    If this is not dedication maybe I should take a vacation
    and look for another vocation.

    Terrance Tracy

  • William Night (12/21/2013 11:41:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    “One dispensation full of Grace”


    One dispensation full of grace
    As gothic as my savior’s face
    A trenchant shadow of the things
    That law and grace can only bring
    Christ in sorrow tempted me
    From sin to splendor’s twinkling
    A romance of such perilous times
    Yet time itself is not the crime
    Somnolent souls my Savior guides
    Through thralldom to the gospel light

  • Rex-mayor Ubini (12/19/2013 10:01:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Darker Than The Medieval

    First meeting with the twelve wise men,
    Who visit in cycle like monday and her friends,
    The moons that say welcome to the planet earth,
    Ere the last went home for the first to reappear,
    A tender breath on the arms of care,
    Life was real as the hostile face of night,
    Yet it seemed surreal as tale told in the ray of moon light,
    Like a blank memories of nine months sojourn
    In the warm womb of a worthy woman
    Can't tell the memory of the colic
    Neither the taste of the colostrum
    Nor the sight that broke my virgin eyes wall
    And it seems I never exist until life
    Began to school my skull, and the duo,
    Dwelling within began to guide my thoughts,
    It seems life was not in existence,
    yet it existed in the absence of now,
    And I realized without cultivating on the soil within
    One would somehow dwell still
    In this time darker than the medieval

  • Jamie Jordan (12/18/2013 3:35:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Unknown World
    I’m trapped in a world I don’t want to be in. I hate here the people are mean and just plain rude. They stand around poking and laughing at me. I don’t understand why. I don’t know any of them at all. They call me fat and ugly, it hurts. They say I’m a waste of space, I’m not normal like they are. But the worst thing they call me is a freak. It feels like a knife just piercing my heart. I suffocate on those words. My body drops to the ground I can’t breathe. I scream out “HELP! ” They just stand around laughing and not caring that a young girl is slowly dying. “STOP! ! ” I hear a loud voice in the distant yell out. The crowd becomes silent and I can breathe again. My heart is no longer aching with pain. I rise up and walk through the crowd and only see a single rose with a pink note attached to it. “This rose represents your beauty. Don’t let these awful people bring you down. You are beautiful, more than normal and have an amazing body. And there is one guy out here who loves you. That guy is….” I look around and see no one around where is he?Why did he just leave a rose and not his name?There are many unanswered questions. But the most important one is why am I trapped in this unknown world?

  • Ludovik Celaj (12/16/2013 1:24:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Winter Symphony

    Shivering off when i stand
    weather known as the notorious
    this nature can not deny
    but a little clumsy to survive

    They get hot in the burning sun
    and we asked for a little freshness
    Months went by aligning
    to come back in winter

    Not as bad as has fame
    already the longest stays merzisja
    burn all the trees in this forum
    ripe cake for warmth

    Indigent hideouts birds warble
    the naked trees is so transparent
    have nowhere to go barefoot snapper
    the coast is more leisurely for somnolence

    Wearing white horizon
    as a furry polar wolf in
    Sometimes as for symphony
    we feel that it is winter.

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