A Showcase For P H Poets: October 2015: Section ' B '.... [sharing Poems; Not A Contest; Monthly On Bri Edwards' P H Site] Poem by Bri Edwards

Please note that this is “Section B”, not “Section A”, for October’s “Showcase”.
This month, for the first time, I’ve decided I was running out of poem space ….
to display all the great poems from my PH friends and some others perhaps.
So PLEASE visit both “Section A” AND “Section B”. AND let there be NO lapse ….
in the continuity of October’s offerings, from poets, like you, to you, the Readers! !


(October 9th, 2015)

bri :)

['Section B' to be continued, starting on Oct.11th,2015.

In Section B, the poets and poems shall be listed in descending instead of ascending order, based on the dates I receive them. ]

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Please feel free to visit 'Section A' of the recent showcases, especially the October showcase, in order to read more about the showcase and some of the 'guidelines', 'regulations', and other 'information' about the showcase(s) , and to see previously used poems and the poets who contributed the poems.

bri :)

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THE POETS: ===============================================
(with the most recent contributors listed at the TOP
of the list [this is a change from all of the 'Sections A']) .

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FORTY-SIX: SAVITA TYAGI (United States; Female; 67) (2nd poem)

LOOKING BACK

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FORTY-FIVE: IS IT POETRY (United States; Male; 100) (2nd poem)

My Fellow Brothers And Sisters

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FORTY-FOUR: R. K. HART (Australia; Male; 69) (2nd poem)

How Much Do I Need You

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FORTY-THREE: GERGANA TEOFILOVA (Bulgaria: Female; 29) (2nd poem)

The Night of Halloween

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FORTY-TWO: CHARLES DARNELL (United States; Male; 65) (2nd poem)

Anything

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FORTY-ONE: RUTH WALTERS (United Kingdom; Female; 63) (2nd poem)

Morning Streets

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FORTY: XELAM KAN (Pakistan; Male; 96) (2nd poem)

Tooty Fruity Booty

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THIRTY-NINE: KELLY KURT (United States; Male; 57) (2nd poem)

Before Their Time

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THIRTY-EIGHT: DELLA PERRY (United Kingdom; Female; 41) (2nd poem)

The Bedroom

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THIRTY-SEVEN: VALSA GEORGE (India; Female; 61) (2nd poem)

The Calm Before The Storm

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THIRTY-SIX: JAK BLACK (United Kingdom; Male; 41) (2nd poem)

Poetic Art.

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THIRTY-FIVE: DOUGLAS SCOTNEY (Australia; Male; 62) (2nd poem)

White Lies

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THIRTY-FOUR: M J LEMON (Canada; -; -) (2nd poem)

Urbanity

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THIRTY-THREE: JOHN WESTLAKE (United Kingdom; Male; 31) (2nd poem)

248. Dear Diary 2005

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THIRTY-TW0: MELVINA GERMAIN (Canada; Female; 70) (2nd poem)

Wisdom's Feast

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THIRTY-ONE: AKHTAR JAWAD (Pakistan; Male; 70) (2nd poem)


If Columbus' Ship Would Have Lost In Bermuda Triangle

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THIRTY: CLARENCE PRINCE (Canada; Male; 75) (2nd poem)

In Wants For More

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TWENTY-NINE: EUGENE LEVICH (United States; Male; 78) (2nd poem)

Mrs. Tanky Man

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TWENTY-EIGHT: DARLENE WALSH (United States; Female; 21) (2nd poem)

Shadows In The Dark

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TWENTY-SEVEN: KIM BARNEY (Brazil; Male; 100) (2nd poem)

Shall I Compare Thee To A Bale Of Hay?

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TWENTY-SIX: BRI EDWARDS (United States; Male; 67) (2nd poem)

Two Dozen Un-typed Poems ….. [ poems I’ve written on paper; PH submissions? ; Medium]

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THE POEMS:
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FORTY-SIX: by Savita Tyagi


Looking Back

A dragonfly came and flew in flash of time
While I looked at flowerbeds filled with grime.

I too flew with her to a distant land back in time
Back then those little beauties weren't that scarce.

Gardens used to be filled with grasshoppers
Butterflies were plenty to be chased around.

Yes many lost their wings between our little fingers
But we knew nothing better in childhood explorations.

In afternoons mounds of dirt in empty fields
Were huge to our eyes for trekking expeditions.

On rainy days upon mossy grounds wading
Through mud parting tall blades of wet grass,

We picked frogs and worms with slimy skins
Jumping in excitement as they slipped away.

Heat or cold we found a way to learn and enjoy
What our surroundings offered in abundance.

Those childhood memories filled with beauteous
Wonders of nature came back looking at dragon fly.

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FORTY-FIVE: by Is It Poetry


My Fellow Brothers And Sisters

Here where it's dark, I still watch.
Ironic delusions rich metaphors, I could still use, I shall not.
Millions have come and have since paid the price,
summer is gone here where I wait, fall arrives.

Here where it's light here, where I deeply sleep scantly covered in green.
Like you I once was, even then here like all of you now.
Trapped each night in desperate dreams here where you’re at
out side looking in through the cold frosted glass I shall wait.

Heavenly Father for those that believe and for those whom need prayer
and dread the coming night sharing your dreams with a stranger.
Sleeping your sleep and as such like a thief I come in.
As a giant green moth that flies deep into the light and echoes the past,
as to why I am yours and as such you are mine.

Now here where I speak to those that are dead and breathing each breath
the breath of white light that blows
into the breasts of those whom in need have need of the rest
out side where it's dark fall has arrived as I shut my eyes winter comes.

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Bri's note: If you care to leave a comment on the poem's page, it may be listed as 'My Fellow Brothers and Sisterd'. I think iip means it to be 'Sisters'. :) bri
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FORTY-FOUR: by R. K. Hart


How Much Do I Need You.

How much do I need you?
As much as a sky needs to be blue.
Why would I need you?
Without you, my heart beats untrue.

A valley needs the scent of flower,
Here I lay for many an hour.
Like the body needs air,
I need you with your hair so fair.

As the heart needs the blood of life,
So I must have you as my beloved wife.
The ocean must have a sandy shore,
I must have you to love and adore.

As a warrior greatly needs a fort,
Without you, life would come to naught.
Without you my existence would be nil,
But I will hold you fast, should God will.

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FORTY-THREE: by Gergana Teofilova


The Night Of Halloween

Witches and ghosts, scary creatures,
Black cats silently sneaking behind the trees,
So many pumpkins with ominous features,
Their fiery eyes are burning your knees
It is a night of horror and terror,
Thirsty vampires feast on innocent blood,
Children…watch out, don't make any errors,
Those crow-like claws are so thick with mud

The moon in the sky is full, bright and smiling,
There are no clouds to hinder her fun,
The million stars are gently beguiling,
'Join us if you dare, show up but don't run! '
Tonight the thread between the worlds is fine,
The souls of the dead cross over for life,
It has been like this since old, ancient times,
A tradition invented by gods, ready to strive

People dress up as monsters and mummies,
Trying to show they don't fear the dark,
They don't understand they're nothing but dummies,
A single wrong move and they are just stiff and stark
The shadows out there have been waiting to revel,
Their sinister wails ruthlessly chill to the bone
'Come out and simply dance with the devil! ...
Or you may not see your mundane sins ever atoned! '

All Hallows' Eve is just like no other,
Heaven is not trying to prevail over Hell,
Demons and angels are walking like brothers,
As if someone has put them under a spell
Giving out candy will not hold them back,
They keep flaming, thus turning gloom into sheen,
When morning comes there won't be even a track,
But never mind... enjoy the night of Halloween

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FORTY-TWO: by Charles Darnell


Anything

They say love makes you crazy.
Do things you wouldn’t dream of,
Stretch your bruised brain
When you hold out arms
To her.

Her smile makes you weak,
Light-headed,
Dazzled by eyes,
Like novas.

You ache to please,
Be her better man,
Throw your naked chest
On broken glass.

If she asked,
You’d reach beyond the stars,
Grab him by his snowy beard,
And toss God from his own heaven.

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FORTY-0NE: by Ruth Walters


Morning Streets

Muddied pools soak shoes
on grey pavements
as men in suits walk by
and children's voices squeak.

I sit inside a metal box,
a small car (Eco friendly)
reliving last night's sexy treats
a saucy smile on my lips.

Mothers run their kids to school,
workmen whistle, loud and rude
but all I muster is
a sleepy stare.

Traffic roars as rain cascades,
fashion trends float by,
as mindless plebs drop litter
on the streets.

Jail bait girlies, half nude, all tattooed
wearing killer, ladies shoes,
totter by the bus stop
as men's eyes glaze and pop.

Last nights drunks look pale faced now,
swaying along crowded roads
as if they're doing
tangos in the breeze.

They rock and roll and trip and fall
looking ragged in the dawn
as hungry dogs
use legs as their latrines.

Shops throw up their blinds at last
as pensioners join morning queues
and police car sirens blast,
confounding brains.

I pull into the drive at work,
some guy's blocked my way, the jerk,
and stumble in
to grab my morning tea.

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FORTY: by Xelam Kan


Tooty Fruity Booty

Since turned SEXteen, I'm
enkindled by sensations strange:
itching, hot, but serene,
and try to seek rainbow
in my sleepless nights,
thou' scare if go outside.

Oh the problem is my sheer physique:
when my jiggly bum and
jugs are viewd,
then the wild luxury of MAN
is sprung upon me
like the buzzing bees.

And when a flirty wind tickles
my ever growing streaching shirt,
I can see their sordid fantasies
in their lusty, stinky looks,
and they call me then
a tooty fruity booty.

But I'm a bitter pill to swallow,
they surely don't know.

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THIRTY-NINE: by Kelly Kurt


Before Their Time

An overcast morning, as still as my foggy mind
Decorated by the leaves coming to a peak
Whispered that this fleeting glory
Once every elliptical orbit
Was to be abridged

By coffee’s end, the skies were clearing
Swept out, it seemed, by the north wind
Howling in contempt of warm air
The once meagerly leaf dappled terrain
Chaotically rustled with detached thousands
Eddying, streaming, screaming
Many were crunchy brown corpses
But many were also painted ladies
Forced from their hospice before their time
Some still cleaving to middle-aged green
None were immune
Schools of petite orange sumac leaves
Romped around oversized catalpas
Like minnows teasing a flounder
Pine needles, yellowed by a dry spell
And loosened by an early October chill
Overspread an earlier blanket

Across the yet emerald lawns
The sound was slightly softened
But in the streets, the stampedes resounded
Passing cars swirled the pandemonium
Launching trees-full back up to fall again
Corners and crannies collected the carnage

Sunset ushered in rolling, low clouds
Darkness fell abruptly as the gusts persisted
Leaving wooden giants in a state of undress
Limbs still flailing, but unable to conceal their indignity
Deciduous scaffolds

First frost had yet to fall
Pumpkins, still awaited their fate
Nonetheless, a premature diminishment
Fall's blushes blown away too soon

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THIRTY-EIGHT: by Della Perry


The Bedroom

Crocheted blankets for babies, times three
Never finished the one for the Christmas fetus
Why was he not born?
Pile of soiled clothes in a sprawled piece of art on the rug
Boots with mud caked soles
A lamp, murky brown, no bulb, useless, ugly,
A lonely six string
Favourite book on bedside table, spine bent,
Slimer, Harry Adam Knight
The Tarot book, The Fool comes to mind
Library books picked and read fervently
Oranges are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette!
Snot covered tissues
A clean sanitary pad
Germoline
Black Country Dialect book for Welsh Carys
Butterfly adorned writing pad
The remote
And a jammie dodger faux biscuit bracelet.

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THIRTY-SEVEN: by Valsa George


The Calm Before The Storm


Far across the sea, I watched a blazing hue,
And my eyes feasted on the brilliance of the setting sun.
Beside me, the lulled sea moved on and on,
Like a bird on wings that dives and soars.

A cool breeze flitted across my face,
Like the caressing touch by the Beloved's hands,
I watched the clouds that trailed along,
Hanging a canopy over the azure sky.

Below my feet, lay the sandy shore,
Extending miles on end to infinite lengths,
I lay on it with my arms out stretched,
And my mind lost in the maze of unending thoughts.

I brooded over the mysteries still hidden to man,
Yearning to peer into caverns, the ocean hid.
Struck by a sense of awe, I reposed,
While my gaze fixed on the firmament of stars.

As the salubrious air glided past,
I swam into a state of self - abandonment.
Bliss was it to be in the company of mermaids,
Dancing and singing in celestial cheer.

I wonder why the melodious strains,
Had given way to a thunderous roar? ?
Behind me I heard the deadening sound,
Of roaring waves, lashing on the cliffs.

Swift as lightening, they surged over,
Swivelling the sands I lay upon,
Oh! Again and over again, the booming thud,
It fell heavily in my fretful ears!

Before I could sense what was on,
I found myself swept away by the current,
To be cast in the abyss of the unnumbered,
Those hapless souls, eaten up by the Tsunami waves! !

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THIRTY-SIX: by Jak Black


Poetic Art.

Let your words paint a picture,
We together can share.
Delve deep within,
Your soul to lay bare.

Paint me a picture
To lock in my heart.
A treasure to warm me,
While we’re far apart.

Paint the garden of memories
That I wander through.
Paint a smile and a teardrop,
And that promise anew.

Paint me your sigh,
Your warm breath on my cheek.
Paint me your kiss,
Your aura mystique.

Paint, for me, this longing,
In letters so bold.
Paint a love that’s still fresh,
Even tho’ we’ve grown old.

Paint me your heartbeat,
With the stroke of your pen.
Paint a picture of hope,
Until we meet again.

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THIRTY-FIVE: by Douglas Scotney


White Lies

To ease
the depression
in the growing number
of brains caring
for the growing
number of bodies
with dying brains,
brains are lying
that they're stopping
brains from dying.

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THIRTY-FOUR: by M J Lemon


Urbanity


People in this city come and go
Buildings walk away
Carried to the landfills

A neighbour reclaims sod
Placing old boards and bricks together
Births makeshift living space

Before any earthquake strikes
Taxes take, authorities take
What greater change can-
any disaster make?

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THIRTY-THREE: by John Westlake


248. Dear Diary 2005


Dear diary
I have to let my thoughts out
and you are the only one around
who can bothered to listen without judging
I need to tell you what is going on
in the hope that you'll understand

I have a darkness in my soul that I can't shift
it's been there for far too long
there is nothing I can do to remove it
the problem is that this darkness is growing

I have a burning lust for vengeance
that I can't explain or satisfy
it eats away at my mind sometimes
especially when I am angry

My moods are getting worse
more changeable than a roller coaster
and much more deadly
at least with a ride you can eventually leave
but I'm stuck on this one until I die

I never seem to get things right
no matter how much I try
the failure is weighing me down
as people only remember my mistakes

Been accused of way too much shit lately
that I haven't even done or wanted to
even though they were never proved to be true
people will just remember the false accusations

I think it's time that I went now
I do hope that you'll understand
thanks for listening to me in my time of need
I just hope you can keep this all a secret
at least until the time is right
before then you will always be
my dear diary

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Bri's note: Don't worry 'John'. Your secret is safe with me.
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THIRTY-TWO: by Melvina Germain


Wisdom's Feast


O maiden sweet as honey God’s gift certainly brings,
to the vineyards of plenty only the privileged sings
and Queens who sit jubilant upon earthly thrones
carry little less than value as do the proudest drones.

Virgins may dance passionate rhythms of earth’s moon
whilst matrons lag behind hoping once more to swoon.
Poor, poor dears what will the outcome be,
to cry in a river of pain or come back to reality.

Face up ye women of despair, only you can mend and repair,
engage not in debauchery or listen to lies you’ll often hear.
Mind, body, soul may your moral eye see only truth,
cleanse the old and little beyond the ruination of youth.

A tumult of words may pour like rain over thee,
wade through thick waters, swim through the sea.Extinguish blazing flames that tortured your soul,
raise up the torch of freedom, it’s time to be whole.

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THIRTY-ONE: by Akhtar Jawad


If Columbus' Ship Would Have Lost In Bermuda Triangle


What if Columbus' ship would have lost in Bermuda triangle,
you have your angle, I have my angle,
live in the present and forget the past,
as the four sides of the two will not meet in a rectangle

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THIRTY: by Clarence Prince


In Wants For More


In wants for, far more money
In wants for, a far better life
In wants for, a far better car
In wants for, a far better house
In wants for, far much more clothes
In wants for, far much more shoes
In wants for, far better friends
In wants for, a far prettier spouse
In wants for, far much more love
In wants for, far more things of beauty
In wants for, far more things of necessity
In wants for, far more getting it all
Yet after got it all, still unsatisfied
That's for, being too far from Christ
In whom a soul can only be satisfied
And so despite of all other things
Christ is Man's most essential need
Without Him Man's desires won't rest
We shall only be in wants for more

[All rights reserved! ]

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TWENTY-NINE: by Eugene Levich


Mrs. Tanky Man


Mrs. Tanky Man
I called her,
Though she was never a Taitai (a Mrs.)
Darton refusing to marry anyone,
On principle.

Darton,
American professor (Comparative Literature) before the War
At National Peking (That’s how they used to spell Beijing) University
Sent to a Nip (That’s what we used to call the Japanese) concentration camp;
He didn’t touch a woman in 3½ years.
He didn’t like that.

Freed,
He bought a lovely house overlooking the harbor
At Tan-shui (That’s how they used to spell Danshui) ,
Went up into the hills
And purchased five beautiful daughters from
Poor families.

A Harem...
“Paradise, ” he called it.
“One cooked, one cleaned, one shopped...”
And he refused to learn Chinese.
Couldn’t bear the thought of studying another language,
Especially one as hard as Chinese.
He knew so many languages already—
Latin, Greek, French, German,
And, of course, English.
And the Chinese officials, he said,
Distrusted foreigners who could speak
Their language. Those officials provided him
With all the assistance he needed.

And,
He refused to allow his concubines to learn English.
“Language just gets in the way of love! ”
He said.
He refused to marry anyone; “Children are a mere conceit! ”
He added.

My landlady,
The last of his concubines,
In her forties,
Still attractive.
He in his seventies
Still vibrant.
He bought her properties
To keep her after he died.
He had taken care of all his concubines.

She was not right in the head;
Terrible things she had seen
During The War and After.

He taught her to speak Pidgin English
And he laughed when she spoke.
I had a problem in my apartment.
“Me catchee tanky-man come chop chop fixy fixy.”
[I’ll get the heating tank man to come quickly to fix it.]
She said.

And she didn’t like me, either...
Because I wasn’t married,
She thought,
Just like Darton,
Who didn’t give her “Face”
By marrying her.

As I said,
She wasn’t right
In the head.
But who is?

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Bri's note: sorry, but I can't help but wonder if 'Darton' is a code name for 'Levich'. hmmm?
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TWENTY-EIGHT: by Darlene Walsh


Shadows In The Dark


The night was dark, house dreary true
I opened the gate and crept through
Shadows of specters fill my sight
In fear of monsters that may bite

With moon bright and dim star light
To my right is a great fright
Dim light makes phantoms dance and sway
To my left shall I run away

Goblins and ghosts I conjure
My safety I must ponder
Step by step I further walk
Mouth dry like dust I'll never talk

Is my fear up in a tree
To look up as I may see
Under which I think to stroll
About to pounce, is there a troll

Or the crack upon next I tread
Or carnivorous vines that I dread
Will it cause mothers back to break
Or a quick snack of me they make

Step by step I slowly walked
Pray and hope door is unlocked
A fear in my heart I accept
Into the darkness I have crept

Stairs that creek under my feet
In my chest pounding heart beat
Echoing loudly in my ears
Trembling eyes swelling with tears

On the porch quaking I look around
New fears in my heart I have found
Shadows dance in candle lit window
Four arms and horns to scare a hero

Again I creep upon the stairs
Upon my neck stand straight my hairs
Flickering porch light starts to sway
My feet have turned to miry clay

While ready to run I ring the bell
In fear more than words can tell
Feet planted firmly I try to stay
The door creeks and I can't look away

Wide opened the door is the sign
Time now to speak the important line
Hoping for something chocolate or sweet
Brave and tall, I say Trick-or-Treat.

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TWENTY-SEVEN: by Kim Barney


Shall I Compare Thee To A Bale Of Hay?


Shall I compare thee to a bale of hay?
Hay is more lovely with a better shape.
Thou must have seen many a better day;
One look at thee and one tries to escape.
Sometimes too hot the sun on thee did shine
And that is why thy poor skin is all burned.
I thought that I could look at thee just fine
But suddenly my stomach overturned.
Yet thy eternal glamour cannot fade
For fade it has already; it did flee!
It is too late for thou to find the shade;
For a picture of wrinkled, look at thee.
And now the time has come to end this song;
To have it go on longer would be wrong.


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TWENTY-SIX: by Bri Edwards (2nd poem)


Two Dozen Un-typed Poems ….. [ poems I’ve written on paper; PH submissions? ; Medium]


In the last two months I’ve written poems (many) ,
but ….of them, only a few are typed; why, (almost) not any!
Two of the most recent ones are both about MY blood.
Another is about how memories, of a “love” (departed) can flood …..
one’s mind and heart.

One is a mystery entitled very simply “I’m In A Box”.
Another is GROSS; it may make SOME readers puke on their socks.
Yet another is a bit romantic; it’s really NOT “my style”.
And one is about “small things” which (my mind) do rile.

Still another’s about an OLD college friend ……and his YOUNG new “Honey”.
One more is about an “Old West” killer, and a reward of money.
My cell phone’s alarm is the subject of a quite (not quiet) short piece,
while another is about a dog’s grip on my hand; it WOULD NOT release!

“OK! I’ll Live Forever.” ……is another title I reluctantly wrote,
preceded by “Unconscious Most Of The Time”, with a psychological note.
“Flirt Alert” may alert YOU to the perils …….of ‘conversing’,
while ‘Thank You, Backseat Driver” is about roadway traversing.

One poem is a bit fanciful, about “sinners” and a minister, shady.
A poem about friends features Jack & Jill, and Jon & Sue …., not Sadie!
“The World, Without The Letter ‘? ’ “ was a bit of fun for me.
Then there’s one about my volunteer work at the …..li-brar- - - Y.

“Belch, Fart, Chuckle”? Well ……., what more DO I need to say?
It’s preceded by my short poem, “CAKE”. [I’ll take cake anyway ……
I can get it! ]
“Tiny Breasts” features names of a few “old” female classmates.
“Awaiting My Turn” is about ME …………, a guy who sometimes …….waits.
AND
“History Of The Pen” is ‘history’, relating to Mankind and writing.
“As The Keys Banged” is about music which can be anger-inciting.

If any of these ……you’d like me (on PoemHunter) to bestow,
PLEASE tell me which one(s) , and I’ll get it into the …………show! !

(October 10, 2015)

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Poems #1 through #25 are in Section A, in the 'other poem' on my list for the October showcase.

**********IN NOVEMBER: I plan some changes in what poems will be used by me in the showcase and how. It should be good for most readers and some submitters I think. Feedback from members is always welcome (though perhaps not always 'with open arms'!)

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THANKS FOR READING! bri edwards :)







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(continued from Section A)
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TWENTY-SIX: