'A Showcase For P H Poets.......June 2016'... [poems Galore, If Not More! ; Starts Out Short, But Gets Longggerrr As Time Passes, Just Like My Tall Tales] Poem by Bri Edwards

Come one, come all, step right on up.
Read with canned beer or tea in cup.
You're ALL invited, but not coerced.
You can judge what's best and worst.

Feel welcome to share one poem here,
maybe two; rejection don't you fear.
There's no entry fee; it's all free.
You'll even find one or two from me!

Send what you will, or just read it.
Or ignore it.. just as you see fit!


(May 31,2016)
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The POETS and their POEM TITLES [listed in the order that I received them]:

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1. Darlene Walsh; U.S.; female; 22

Revenge

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2. Akhtar Jawad; Pakistan; male; 71

Good Bye Tomes

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3. Tom Billsborough; United Kingdom; male; 73

Snake

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4. Douglas Scotney; Australia; male; 63

Good Australian Function & 5 New Names

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5. Is It Poetry; U.S.; male; 101 (liar!)

My Shriveled Finger

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6. Savita Tyagi; U.S.; female; 68

Ode To My Poet Friends

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7. Savita Tyagi; U.S.; female; 68

Retired

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8. Bharati Nayak; India; female; ?

Wonder Words

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9. Bri Edwards; U.S.; male; 67

One-Vowel Poems …. [inspired by Brian Mayo; half a dozen SHORT poems, each using only one of the 5 ('sometimes 6') vowels in the English alphabet]

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10. John Westlake; United Kingdom; male; 32


297. Behind His Blue Grey Eyes

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11. John Westlake; United Kingdom; male; 32


296. Bandages


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12. Is It Poetry; U.S.; male; 101 (? !)


Everybody's Alone With Me

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13. Li Bo; China; male; very old
(translated by Eugene Levich; U.S.; male; 79)


Self-Amused

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14. Bri Edwards; U.S.; male; 67


Does Being Part Of A 'larger Identity' Make Us Less Lonely? …. [topic Suggested By Savita Tyagi; Medium]

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15. Eugene Levich; U.S.; male; 79


A Little Bird

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16. Brian Johnston; U.S.; male; 73


Rosemary's Bliss [aka 'Ph: Faith: Rosemary's Bliss']

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17. Brian Johnston; U.S.; male; 73


Haikus Parody Haiku

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18. Valsa George; India; female; 62


Angling

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19. Paul Brookes; United Kingdom; male; 62


Conversation with the Muse XXXII


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20. Clarence Prince; Canada; male; 76


In This Life


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21. Clarence Prince; Canada; male; 76


Not Like The Past!


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22. Seema Jayaraman; India; female; 44


Gossamer Robe


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23. Loke Kok Yee; Malaysia; male; ? ?


Sitting On A Hillside


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24. Charles Darnell; U.S.; male; 66


Orlando's Blood


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25. Xelam Kan; Pakistan; male; 97 [? ]


Midnight Madness-


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26. Bharati Nayak; India; female; ?


Shall I Wait Till I Understand Pablo Neruda


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27. Annette Aitken; United Kingdom; female; 52


Cat and Mouse
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The POEMS [listed in the Reverse order that I received them]:

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27. by Annette Aitken


Cat and Mouse


Between the grass
he stealthily creeps
down on his hunkers
to have a peek.

Ears are tuned to every sound
nose is twitching, for scented ground.
As motionless he lies in wait,
hoping that you'd show your face.

Sits in readiness, waits to pounce
on the unsuspecting mouse.
The little mouse climbs up to see
if danger maybe nearing he.

With grace and poise he leaps aloft
above the little mouse of course.
The little mouse let out a squeak
quickly leaping to his feet.

The little mouse knew all the tricks
first hide and seek, and then to peek.
A quick step right, then dashing left
he disappears, the cat's bereft.

The little mouse lets out a squeak (shouts)
come back another day, next week.

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26. by Bharati Nayak


Shall I Wait Till I Understand Pablo Neruda


Perchance I happened to meet
One editor of a newspaper big
In conversation I told him
About my interest in writing
In Odia and in English do I write
And conveyed my wish
To get them published.

Asked he me some questions
To gauge my knowledge depth
Ma'm! Have you read
Jayanta Mohapatra and Pablo Neruda?  

I am a casual writer
Not a person who has read much
Limited is my knowledge in literature
Yes, Great Poems one or two I have read
From Jayanta Mohapatra and Pablo Neruda
To be frank
I could not fully comprehend

Then he recited with all right intonations
Some stanzas from Neruda's poems
And some of his own creations
I heard in amazement
How to the ears they sound so sweet

After he left
I questioned myself
Questioned my knowledge limited
How I dare to venture to this world
A world full of Jayanta Mohapatra, Ramakanta Ratha
Shakespeare and Wordsworth
Above all Pablo Neruda

Restless was I
Restless were my days
As a voice in me always tormented
'I do want to come out', the voice implored
I want to see the light
Oh Mother, Bring me out

Notwithstanding 
What the great minds say of me
I brought her to the fore
And looked at her
Eyes, face and forehead
What is the future
Written there
I know not, I know not
Am I not beautiful, my baby asked
Oh! You are beautiful, very beautiful
You are my sweet child
I would not compare you
With that of Pablo Neruda
Or never with that of Jayanta Mohapatra.

I blew a kiss on her forehead
And in whisper i said
Oh my child
Always, always feel blessed. 

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25. by Xelam Kan


Midnight Madness -

The blue sky melts westwardly
and espouses
shadows dark, that cast
a horrific spell
to make the heaven sparkling.

My midnight madness
toils to hack
the mystery of an old maxim:
TO BE OR NOT TO BE, but
falls flat.

Oh, the time flies
as slow as a dove
engulfed by storm,
but batters the soul so violently
that echoes unheard.

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24. by Charles Darnell


Orlando's Blood


In the early morning hours
the blood dries from arterial red
to sullen black
on the floor,
on the walls.
in the lounge and the back rooms.

It will be washed down in time,
diluted by water
dipped from a rolling metal bucket,
the mop strings squeezed
of pink soapy fluid,
to find its way,
a winding thin line
down the sewers
to the Gulf,
nourishment for the small
fish and animals
swimming off shore.

The sun rises on another,
winding line,
down the sidewalk,
around the corner,
people of all colors,
gender, and orientation
wait their turn at donation
hours in the early sun.
They bring in their veins
a repudiation
of the dark blood of hate,
they bring with them
the sweet blood
of love.

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23. by Loke Kok Yee*


Sitting On A Hillside


The moon stole shyly over the hills and peered down on the valley below
Silver beams trembled across a pristine lake as a gentle breeze blew slow
Her reflection riding the ripples till leaves could no longer let in light
While the zephyr sang mournfully through the vale rousing dwellers of the night
The pale light struggled to unveil the mysteries of a day growing late
Overwhelmed by the dissonance of unseen creatures vying for a mate
A splash caught briefly by the moon says a fish fed and a creature died
Nature's unforgiving day or night; the laws of survival was complied

Then in hordes they floated silently in, like nightmarish demons unleashed
Unending waves of giant fruit bats, the forest providing them a feast
Briefly the calmness was shattered as they squabbled over the choicest site
The concealed owl hooted her disapproval for her prey had taken fright
A timorous mouse-deer then appeared, nervously fed, always in fear
Suddenly life stood still and time froze awhile as a tiger wandered near
A valley full of life but the moon oblivious, serenely sailed on by
Even the stars shimmering in the heavens did not ask the reasons why

But a wisp of smoke drifting doomily up betrayed the presence of man
Though the moon still smiled, soon all will be lost for nature is not in the plan


*(with a few edits suggested by bri, SO don't blame the poet!)

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22. by Seema Jayaraman


Gossamer Robe


Precariously hanging over
delicately crafted cleft of
peach and satin shoulders
the gossamer light white robe
of spun silken dreams slipped
further down the pale cream
of the pink tipped blossoms
revealing deep valleys
and lofty supple hillocks
immersed in purple haze
criss-crossed with Mauve riverine
pulsating with unbridled passion
lending courage to slender arms
like crafted boughs of magnolias
bursting painted pyramids
offering tender ministrations
delicately over frigid surface
washed by cold northern waves
threatening a riot of small fires
sluggishly the robe meandered
a lazy path carving a narrow strip
around a voluptuous overhang
as the Mauve strings zig-zaged
a plum path to the navel dip
set as the eye of all universe
undulating over a ripe mound
quivering in the first kiss of a
rain drenched coppery breeze
as thin as a spiders silken web
the honored gossamer wound
courageously embracing the
secrets of creations magnificence
oblivious to the amorous pleasures
it sought to envelope in its billows


(Mumbai,13 May 2016)

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21. by Clarence Prince


Not Like The Past!


I can't see clearly any more
I can't think nearly as before
I can't speak plainly any more
I can't walk as strongly as before
Still I know that there is a cure
Walking with Jesus I feel secure

Jesus is a friend in need to me
He is all the same in deeds to me
He wasn't afraid to first love me
Even in my sins He chooses me
This message is for my good friends
Walking with Jesus you'll feel secure

I used to be scared when I'm alone
But having Jesus I'm no more alone
He is my Savior the Truth and the Life
Who from me He will never decline
He takes my fears and makes me fine
Walking with Jesus I feel secure

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20. by Clarence Prince


In This Life


In this life, we need insight to follow the light
In this life, we must do just what is right
In this life, for many survival is a fight
In this life, for some comfort is out of sight
In this life, not all will find it pretty and bright
In this life, belief will bring us relief

Then live faithful with your hope
Just believe in the words of God
Follow not, those who are proud
As only in God's word
In this life, we'll ever learn how to cope
In this life, belief will bring us relief

In this life, everything has an end
In this life, our lives He just lend
However, there will come a time
According to His words
Hereafter, life will be happy and bright
In this life, only belief will bring us relief

In this life, we need His mercy and grace
In this life, let the Lord be your brace
In this life, however hard be your case
Make no waste, but with Him keep the pace
There is a God, who your tears He'll wipe
In this life, belief will bring us relief.

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19. by Paul Brookes


Conversation with the Muse XXXII


I retire
I know my limitations
poems not read die
a red death

the muse coughs stifling a laugh

why are my dreams not interpreted
I ponder on this
why do we dream?
to rest from an over active mind?

words the tools or weapons for some
have power like a name
name something and you have power over it
so I keep my true name secret.

'where are you going with this? ' the muse
enquires or is that inquires?

there is catharsis in words
let's pull down the barricades
batter in the door,
smash the windows,
rip up the floor.

subliminal thoughts tug at the corners
we create from our pens worlds
ink their life blood.

'very profound I'm sure.' the muse hisses
'but I know where you're heading.'

Graham came last night
knocking at my door
he smiled when I let him in
how real it felt holding
him in my arms.
I woke with tears
wet upon my cheeks.

no catharsis there, just an ache
a longing.

'I knew it.' the muse cries.
'self-pity.' she asserts 'is not pretty.'

'that's it.' I hear her say 'run and hide.'
but I have already shut out her voice
retiring to my inner sanctum and peace.

Now how did that get in here? ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

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PLEASE NOTE: the entry for poem #13 has been changed
by Bri, at the suggestion of the translator, E. Levich.

bri :)
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18. by Valsa George


Angling


Stung by an angling fad
He took a fishing rod
And sallied onto the nearby stream
That leapt down a rocky shelf
Forming small cascades
But running down into plain ground
With a placid demure face
Uttering soft murmurs sweet

Aiming at the darting Trout
That made the still waters into spiraling whirls
He swished the rod in the air
With the alacrity of a practiced bowler

Looking at the line sinking low
He waited for the fish to nibble at the bait
Meanwhile, inhaling the salubrious air
And watching the limpid movement of the stream

As the hook line went taut in his grip
Hopefully he pulled it up

But alas! With no booty to boast!

Patiently he sat there for hours
Like a sculptured God upon a rock
Oh! It requires immense patience
With adroitness to boot
To be an angler, no doubt
That sure is a sedate man's pursuit!

Angling rarely fetches any major luck
Except now and then a fresh fish upon one's plate

Yet following one's heart's pursuit
Is worth more than all tangible reward it brings!

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17. by Brian Johnston


Haikus Parody Haiku


1.
mind's edge blunted
desert devoid of markers
my tears wet dry sand

July 29,2014

2.
seasonal picture
don't let me add a thing please
your haiku not mine

June 6,2016

3.
missing photographs
real content camera shy
skit artist needed

June 6,2016

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16. by Brian Johnston


Ph: Faith: Rosemary's Bliss


Rosemary's normal, there's nothing amiss,
Puts her feet in shoes one at a time,
But what makes her remarkable really is this:
Rosemary chose to get married to Bliss.

How these two hooked up I really can't say
But their poetry seems to just rhyme,
And they still sing in tune at the end of the day:
Life always seems to be headed for play!

What is the magic that drew Bliss to her,
Was there richness of soul others lack?
Yet it's said she knows tragedy like connoisseur:
Hopelessness something that one might infer?

How is it she feels a love you don't feel,
Tends to ride in a pink Cadillac?
Should you give up your prideful boast you know what's real:
Is there a chance you might win on appeal?

Certainty she feels that her love will last,
Does this arrow not fit your bow's string?
Is this virtue the birthright of some special caste:
Were you in bed when the baton was passed?

When was the last time death looked in your eyes?
Tell me what sort of bribe might you bring?
The lamb's blood on the doorpost is what I'd advise:
Grace is protection from all of life's lies.

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15. by Eugene Levich


A Little Bird


A little bird alights
Outside my window.
It is gray and white
Perhaps with a touch of yellow.
It's the size of a hummingbird.
I can't find its name
In Sibley,
Audubon,
Or Peterson.

All the larger birds I know
But this little one escapes me.
It, like happiness,
Arrives for a moment,
Then flits away
In an instant.
Like happiness
It is elusive and mysterious
I cannot find it
No matter where I gaze.

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14. by Bri Edwards


Does Being Part Of A 'larger Identity' Make Us Less Lonely? …. [topic Suggested By Savita Tyagi; Medium]


A poem by Savita Tyagi, 'A Larger Identity' …….and here I go again.
I THINK I can write of what she writes; I'm not sure when.
What does Savita mean by a 'larger identity' in her verse?
(Sometimes a choice of poetic interpretations can be a curse!)

Well, perhaps not the MOST serious curse I've had.
E.G. wife number two was really, really BAD!
[OK, there I go again making fun of an ex-wife, ….but …
If I can't do that, what can I do for fun in this, my life? ]

I suppose some find solace in being part of the human race,
but …I'd tend, instead, to feel being part of it is a disgrace!
A part of 'my country' then? The same at times is true.
Yes, I'm not the biggest waver of the Red, White, and Blue.

My state, my country, my little city where I live?
To none of them would I choose to, my entirety, give.
When I was a church member or a Scout - - -now that was close - -,
but being part of a nuclear family is what I'd identify
myself with most.
AND a loosely-bound, small group of friends from past and present.
These last two ‘larger' identities usually help make my life more pleasant ….
AND help me be less-lonely.

And there is, of course, our own PoemHunter.com,
with some members who try to mimic my wife, daughter, friends and Mom.
And some, like me, are really wonderful jokesters, and
all-around nice.
And, to some I give, and from some I receive …. advice.

Yes PH helps keep me 'not lonely', it is true.
That's why, dear PoemHunter, …..I so ‘love' YOU!


(December 2015)

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13. by Li Bo (with an English translation by E. Levich)


李白 Li3 Bo2

自遣 Zi4 qian4

對酒不覺暝 Dui4jiu3bu4jue2ming2.
落花盈我 衣 Luo4hua1ying2wo3yi1
醉起步溪月 Zui4qi3bu4qi1yue 4
鳥還人亦稀 Niao3huan2ren2yi4xi1

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Self-amused by Li Bo (as translated by Eugene Levich)

Drinking—night came unnoticed
Awakened—blossoms fell on clothing
Drunk, I rise, stumble off, step on moon in rivulet
Birds gone to roost, most people too

(E. Levich, trans.)

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Translator's Note:

Li Po, Li Bo, Li Bai, and Li Pai are all the same interesting dude- many consider him China's greatest poet. He may be an ancestor of that noted American poet and scoundrel, Li Bri.
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12. by Is It Poetry


Everybody's Alone With Me


I could not
do what they wanted me do
because!

I have been observed standing
on my second story deck
alone late at night pissing down below
to remind the dog's that I
live here as well.

Of course she snored, I left my scent
on there as well.
Wine can do that to people but not to me
can't stand
the stuff, though I make it pretty well.

Some of you call it a poke.
I think it's just a small brown leather sack,
with a few coins tossed into it.

Even now,
it's about what you are doing, thinking of
even if I'm not.
Though flesh covers flesh
and a few other's here would cut me down,
in the prime of my life.


There really are pink shell fish
and oysters.
I eat one raw, the other I fry.
Alone while she's asleep.


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11. by John Westlake


296. Bandages 


You tried to wrap a bandage around my heart 
to cover all the wounds 
you had caused with your words 
but it had no effect 
and blood just poured through it 

The bandage wasn't there to help 
as you know it could not help with healing 
but to cover the damage from your sight 
to stop yourself from seeing what you did 
and to relieve all the guilt you feel 

The problem is my heart turned to ice 
it wasn't able to feel the pain 
but you didn't get any more warmth from it 
for you it was cold as death 

You tried to wrap a bandage around my heart 
to cover the wounds that you caused with your words 
my heart is now almost fully healed 
the bandage has long been discarded 
just like you were the night you tried to break it 


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10. by John Westlake


297. Behind His Blue Grey Eyes 


Every one thought they knew him 
that they could see through him 
not one of them really knew 
what went on behind his blue grey eyes 

Often laughing and joking 
trying his best to smile 
just so that people could not see 
all the pain and sadness 
behind his blue grey eyes 

People like to bully and belittle him 
thinking it was all a game 
very few people saw the tears pouring 
from behind his blue grey eyes 

When he faded away 
many he knew were scratching their heads 
they badly misunderstood him the whole time 
only saw what was in front of them 
never taking time to find the real man 
behind his blue grey eyes

_________________________________________________

9. by Bri Edwards


One-Vowel Poems …. [inspired by Brian Mayo; half a dozen SHORT poems, each using only one of the 5 ('sometimes 6') vowels in the English alphabet]

It Isn't Ink

It isn't ink I spilt in Liz's sink.
It's pink in Liz's sink. It's pink! !
If pink in Liz's sink, it ISN'T ink.

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Asp

Papa was fast …
as was an asp.
Papa's last gasp:
'Asp ALWAYS fast.'

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Gin Sin

Win with Sin!
Sin is 'In'!
I sin with gin.
Gin is 'in-sin'.

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Steel Reels

We see Ed etches steel.
See the steel Ed etches.
Ed even etched Ernest's reels.
See etched steel reels Ernest fetches.

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Buns Burn

Sunup! Up, up Sun!
Up Sun! Up, Sun, fun!
Run, Sun. Sun's run turns.
Fun-nuns' buns, fun Sun burns.

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Tinsmith's Instincts

With tin snips I snip; I win.
Snip, snip! I snip thin tin...
(thin tin which is …..in tin bin.)
till tin fish spins ….wild in wind.
Tinsmith's fish spins with thin fins.

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(December 1st and 2nd, 2015)

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8. by Bharati Nayak


Wonder Words


Words,  
Wonderful words 
Whose words are they?  
Did I read them before reading?  
How did they reach me?  

They are the words of God 
As written on the green leaves 
On petals of 
Beautiful flowers 
On the moon beams 
On the gurgling of dancing streams 

The words of God 
A lovely song 
Rings and rings 
As the golden sun 
Illuminates the earth 
The blue clouds 
Rain in sweet mirth 
As in rumination 
And amazement, I stand. 

_______________________________________________

7. by Savita Tyagi


Retired


Mingling with the world 
Required no more
Refrigerator loaded
With T.V. Dinner and S'mores
An ever new world
Suffuse in television
Looks and talks like us
I touched the screen 
Feel of a deadpan 
Yet warm as my own hand
So surreal!  

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6. by Savita Tyagi


Ode To My Poet Friends 


Out of thousands of poets I read on line,  
Befriended few for reasons hard to define. 
I see them through the eyes of their poetry,  
Over a platform in cloud we share stories. 

Not much we know of each other's life,  
Nor much do we want to say to beguile. 
None holds in the vain hope to meet,  
Though chance permitted some may seek,  

The faces hidden behind their favorite verses. 
Some would find then much to converse,  
Others would stay hidden and not traverse. 
Only for reading writing they want to exist. 

Such is this on line long distance new world 
Fingers do the talking and mouths stay shut. 
You are here, there or just might be a phantom 
What ever it is there must be some connection 
That lures me back to more of your creations.

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5. by Is It Poetry


My Shriveled Finger


My little finger is behaving now like
what's been independently discussed it's behaving
like what she as my witness has seen.

Bumping into furniture in the middle of the night
dribble drop's fall as rain in the carpet.
Bloody shins that elicite a sharp stabbing pain.

When it happens, it in my sleep happens, durring the
most important part of the dream.
No reruns as I settle back inside my head
where I last left off.

While I can't explain it,
she can sense it. I can feel the finger wrinkled
redevelop as it then again disappears.
My green wardrobe,
when it's to close to the closet then it feels.

Reductive after being touched it with that mind of it's
own without it going off prematurely,
only manifests itself for a short period of time after exposure.

Any decent wholesome woman, who owns
a green dress and who has
seen it and has experienced his pent
up breath so deeply exhaled could only express
her surprise at this, his last regret.
To any other similar experiences, she has claimed
through her distinct
satisfaction that I once, thrice daily endured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

4. by Douglas Scotney


Good Australian Function & 5 New Names

Good people committed offences
at the cost of transportation
once it became known
life was worse at home
than it was down under.
With not enough left
to do work that was dirty,
wages and conditions improved
and good people said,
'It's as good up top
as it is where they say men chunder...
in Men...
in They...
but she goes,
so to be a good sport,
Theygoandchunda;
Shegoes and Menchunda,
Theygo and Theychunda for short.


[Poet's Notes about The Poem
'she goes' meaning 'she says' a common Australian expression, especially used by girls about girls. 'Men chunder', ie they vomit, especially from drinking. Taken from lyrics of I Come From The Land Down Under by Men At Work.(as was 'she goes' after a mishearing of the word 'glows' which is a bit pathetic up against 'chunder' and not worthy of the true Australian sheila.) ]

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3. by Tom Billsborough


Snake

Hardly a sound in your world,  
Only the repetitious 'S'.
In your coiled strength,  
Your sliding motion and your suddenness,  
The pure silk of your pink mouth,  
The sloughing of a whole skin,  
And that sparkling newness
As you stretch, easy in your new length,  
Cool and supple as a stream's dance.
I hear no hiss as your tongue's black tips
Like a shivering nerve detect that strange warmth,  
Nor hiss of triumph as you swallow whole your prey.
Hardly a sound in your world,  
Only the echoing 'S'
In your bold stare belying 
The true shyness of a snake
As you watch me from a safe distance.
The 'S' contains your whole being
Which makes you more complete than me,  
As I have no sound's shape. 

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2. by Akhtar Jawad


Good Bye Tomes 

Tomes!  
there was a time when you guided me,  
you did a wonderful job by keeping me in control,  
you saved me from mental disorders,  
and many foolish acts. 
When I came to know love is my only instinct,  
and all other instincts are slaves of love,  
and now when I fell in love with beauty,  
I find beauty is enough for me,  
and it's scattered not only on the earth,  
but all over the universe,  
space less,  
timeless,  
and,  
bounds less!  
Now I don't need a tome,  
So with love I bid farewell to you. 
Good Bye Tomes!  

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1. by Darlene Walsh


Revenge   


In grief I kneel in silent darkness  
You are dead but I live on in sadness  
You are dead but your murderer yet lives  
How can I live while he still survives  

He walks the earth as bold as brass  
And beneath his feet grows the grass  
While above your eternal repose  
I visit weekly to lay a rose  

Our last kiss was under a full moon  
Then taken from this earth too soon  
As I lay my rose with quivering lip  
My hand tightens around the sword grip  

By the sacred soil as I kneel today  
Under dismal rolling clouds of gray  
I pledge that he or I shall perish  
To avenge the soul that I cherish  

With deep eternal grief I swear  
That the daemon who shed no tear  
Shall receive his just reward  
When in his chest he finds my sword  

Under gray clouds this vow I make  
To relieve this hellish heart ache  
Again a full moon as I remember the kiss  
And swear my vengeance shall not miss  

For this purpose I pledge my life  
To seek revenge for my beloved wife  
While in the distance the angel cries  
And fiendish laughter of devils arise

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and so this is..............THE END of June's showcase.

:)

bri