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Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr
Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr New York / United States, Male, 56
Profession :
Corporate Internet Marketing Exec.
Education :
Iona Prep Accelerated H.S./ Concordia College
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Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr's last comments on poems and poets

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Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr's comments on forums

  • Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr (1/29/2015 3:28:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    A Visit To Your Home Amongst A Field of Stone...

    Thought it was time I stopped by to visit
    and yes, I brought flowers, don't you dare laugh!
    Habitual manners from an Irish upbringing,
    'Never visit one's homestead, uninvited or empty handed',
    that's what Mum always said, so I heed.

    Flowers are always freshest when laid
    upon mornings dew, while the Sun is still sleeping,
    yet, by noon, they'll be wilting by its hot yellow eye
    in the August haze, dying, decomposing.
    And my mind takes to thinking to itself
    how morosely apropos, these flowers be,
    considering the conditions beneath me.

    I knee-touch the bare soil, still settling,
    place the spray against your freshly cut stone.
    Flowers cannot speak, nor can you... or can you?
    I sense a breeze pass the nape of my neck, is it you?
    It must be, it has to be, for if not...
    I'm just standing here alone amongst a field of stone,
    listening to the breeze wisps behind me.

  • Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr (1/18/2015 5:51:00 PM) Post reply


    Dotage pervades upon the ashen grey,
    mercurialed waves of a rankled brain;
    thank Christ insanity smothers p a i n.

    Hemispheres networks sore estranged,
    obstruction, occlusion, neurologic stain
    like leaves besmirched by driving rain.

    Waning, draining, consumed in bereft,
    so hauntingly loud be their final breaths
    until mercy comes by the heart of Death.


  • Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr (1/12/2015 10:55:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    C o r t e g e...

    Cobblestone had propensity
    to be snared by rusted horseshoes.
    One could hear the pain of the clydesdale
    by the sharp, scraping sound
    from each hoof as it slapped
    at the stones with its u-shaped soles,
    bending awkwardly at the knee
    negotiating forward stride.
    Yet no one paid pay much mind
    except for its worthy counterpart,
    juxtaposed in march and suffering
    from equal strain.
    And, so it went, excuse my cliche
    the proverbial 'caisson rolling along',
    for the likes of Hayes and Coolidge
    of executive privlege in death,
    passing their boyhood stomping-grounds
    for a final, silent curtain call,
    as tradition respected, demanded
    before a 'New Deal' came to town,
    with its jobs and smooth blacktop,
    when strong horses struggled
    over breaks and hills -
    that forced awkward knee-bends
    to carry wood boxes
    of pine, oak and cherry,
    in uniformed stride
    when summoned by Washington's
    funeral plans
    to lead a cortege.

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