Bri Edwards' 1st August 2021 Showcase Of P-H Poets' Poems..... [ Sharing With You 9 Poems Which I've Enjoyed ] Poem by Bri Edwards

Bri's 'Showcase-Intro(duction) ' poem:



Human frailty, & Love, & Nature, & my own wished-for 'Funeral-Fun',
AND 'Vietnam War' rem•i•nis•cences (fifty years later) ,
and a bit of satire (perhaps) about masks, ....are
all bundled together in this showcase as ONE
big display of what humans sometimes do write,
to express what they are thinking, be it day or night.

Oops! I totally forgot the two lovely limericks about
two topics I've been close to in my own dreary life:
Halloween and its special fantastic spooky creatures,
and donating blood to aid moments of medical strife.


(August 1st,2021)





p.s. If you find typos/typographical errors, irregularities in spacing, etc. in any poems which I copied and pasted here from P-H poets' pages, DON'T BLAME ME! Ha ha. Blame (give responsibility to) the poets or to P-H, .....or to my mate's 'computer'. Ha ha..

Ok, I've decided to do a tiny bit of editing of poems to make some of them more readable, but I have not changed the wording.

(July 31st 2021)

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1

Walk, Don't Run

Quite some time ago I gave up jogging
and chose the next best thing, walking,
which of course slowed the tempo
and there was more to notice too.

One afternoon others were out strolling,
not in any great hurry, and some used crutches,
while others had walking sticks. They never gave up.
Feeling tired, I looked for a bench, but no luck.

I was thinking of Langston Hughes' poem
and it was his soaring thoughts which kept me limping
until a nurse stopped her car and gave me a lift
all the way home.

-22 October 2020.

Michael Walker Thursday, October 22,2020

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This is based on personal experience of just a few days ago. I refer to the poem 'Park Bench', by Langston Hughes.

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2

I Say I Don't Love You Anymore


I say I don't love you anymore,
But I still feel chills in my spine
When your fingers brush against mine.

I say I don't love you anymore,
But I still feel my heart rate rise
When you look deep into my eyes.

I say I don't love you anymore,
But a smile still sneaks through

When I get a text from you.

I know we're done..
I know you're gone.
I know we're just friends now,
But I wish we always stay in touch.

Cause I say I don't love you anymore
But I still stay up all night
Wondering if you're doing alright



Anshika Srivastava

Tuesday, June 22,2021
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3

Little Bird (Children's Poem)


Do you remember the spring?
You sang a song for me
My day started happy
You brought a joy to me

You were carrying twigs
To my balcony
Seeking for a place
To build a home

You sat in your little nest
One white egg rest
A tiny bird trying
To hatch its egg

One day I said
'How do you do'
I frightened you and
Away you flew

Left behind was a tiny bird
and a warm nest

You did not forget
The cozy nest
Flew back to your home
Where you belong

Embraced your young
Raised her with motherly love
Together flew and lost
Through the blue sky

Faithful little friend
My heart is your golden nest
When ever you want, come back to me
My door always opens to you

(10,02,2010, Toronto, Canada)

Nezihe Dubrovac




Wednesday, February 10,2010

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4

G. I. Can Opener


One thing from my
Army basic training stands out,

My trusted P-38.

Our training was rough,
In the hot July sun.

Our breakfast and evening meals,
Held in the dining hall.

But, during the day -
Out in the heat,
The dust and sometimes the mud.
We ate the noon meal outside.
C-Rations were handed out.

The main canned food item
Had previously been removed.
They were placed in boiling water,
And handed out by the cook.


We would stand in line,
Waiting our turn.
You never knew what you would get.
No choice, luck of the draw.

Then, the trading would begin,
Hot food item for the cigarettes.
Round chocolate bar for the cigarettes.
This would go on for a few minutes.

Then, settling in,
Opening your cans with your,

Trusted P-38

Gulping down your meal,
Because, when the sergeant says,
Move out, you move out.

My trusted P-38,

I carry it with me,

Even to this day.


Darwin Henry Beuning

Wednesday, June 19,2019


POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Written 19 April 2019.There were only two cigarettes, still they were the main item traded. The P-38 was developed in 1942.Issued in the canned field ration - C-Rations, served US troops from World War II until the 1980s.C-Rations were replaced by MRE's - Meals Ready to Eat, in the 80s.My basic training was at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri during the summer of 1965.You can still find P-38's at any military surplus store.


Bri's Notes about poem:
Hank, I discovered today, has the poem listed twice on P-H, once as 'G. I. Can Opener', and a second time as 'P-38 - G. I. Can Opener'. I guess he REALLY loves his P-38 Can Openers! ! !

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5

Vietnam - G.I. Refrain


Ah yes, Vietnam
Remember it well
Just eighteen
Not more than a lad

Like the rest
Serving my country
Counting my days

Ah yes, remembering

The ladies of the night
And the 'GI Refrain'
Known far and wide

'I love you too much''
'What's your name? '

Rows of bars
Nameless streets
Just ships

Passing in the night

Body counts
Taking ears
American bodies burn so bright

Plenty of booze
Drown the pain
I just want to hear
That 'GI Refrain'

'I love you too much',

'What's your name? '


Darwin Henry Beuning


Sunday, July 2,2017

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Written 3am,20 March 2017, Nakhon Sawan, Thailand. The heat and humidity here remind me of Nam, (Served there May 1966 - January 1968) . Its been fifty years, but, now 'I'm back'.

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6

Wear A Mask


If your soul is mean and vile
And your mind is deeply stained,
If you have a bogus smile,
Wear a mask and you are saved.

If your friend, who gives you all,
Without mercy is betrayed,
If your soul is really small,
Wear a mask and you are saved.

If you know that in your life
You have lied and misbehaved,
If you can't get rid of strife,
Wear a mask and you are saved.

If a person you have met
About you will want to ask
Open up, but don't forget
To keep on your daily mask.


Octavian Cocos

Saturday, June 12,2021
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7

The Witches' Cauldron - A Halloween Limerick


Two witches are stirring a pot
And they stir it until it gets hot
So while I am looking
I ask what they're cooking
Porridge they claim, but it's not.

Randy Imwalle

Tuesday, October 22,2013
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8

Donating Blood Is Quite Easy - A Limerick


Donating blood is quite easy
They give you a ball that is squeezy
It always seems fun
(At least when you're done)
Only once did it make me feel queasy!


Randy Imwalle

Saturday, January 18,2014



POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Originally published at nothingbutlimericks.blogspot.com

Bri's Notes: I wonder where my brother is. Hmm? He was here shortly before I put on my Halloween costume! What's cooking? It smells good.

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9

Fun-Eral....... [ My Funeral; Relatives; Life And Death; Fun ]


Did you ever notice, in 'funeral', the much smaller word, Fun?
If there was a funeral for me, who would 'from it' and who would 'to it' run?
At 64 I'm overdue perhaps; why should I any longer stick around?
In our big paper dictionary, many as young or younger than I have died, I've found.

I've no wish for a funeral; burn me to ashes and be DONE!
But IF I had a funeral, I'd wish it were a bit of fun........
for me at least, and hopefully for all those who might come.
But it's usual, I think, for funeral-attendees to seem a little glum.

If I knew I could NOT avoid..... a public showing in a casket,
I'd want a convex mirror mounted near my head, ... using tricks to mask it......
so I could see what was going on at my fun-final-farewell party, AND
to see who might show flowing tears, and who might show laughter, hearty.

Perhaps I'd see a sibling or two or three. I surely would hope not all four.
At least one (the oldest) , I think, would be practical and not attend; maybe more.
After all, why spend the money and time? They should all know me by now.
BUT I might understand, if they lived close by.....and if someone served free chow.

My ex-wives, if they had money, might show up well shoed and gloved,
and, if my wife saw my exes at my funeral, she'd be happy I'd been loved.
My stepdaughters might show up, thinking it the thing 'to do'.
And if their mom outlived me, they'd be closer to the money too.

I've got some old friends who'd wish me well, but I doubt they'd make the trip.
One cousin might show up; she and I were once 'glued-at-the-hip'.
My parents are long gone from this life; no funerals THEY had.
If I looked into my mirror and saw them not, I'd be neither glad nor sad.

My one and only child, if anyone, I'd hope to see in casket mirror.
I'd hope not to see her chuckling, but instead to see a tear.....
or two, but not many. She should know I'm satisfied to rest,
as I've taken my humanity course, and (I think) passed the test.

(February 2013)

Bri Edwards

Monday, July 22,2013


POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The stanza, starting 'My ex-wives', used to read something like this:

'My ex-wives, if they had money, might show up to see if i was REALLY dead,
and if my current wife saw my exes at my funeral, she would hit ME in the head.'

Fortunately, or unfortunately, my 'current wife' glanced at the screen as I was letting her use HER computer for a few minutes. I was a bit surprised when I found that she had read the poem (or at least that stanza) AND she had changed the end of the second line to the way it now is in the finished poem. so I had to satisfy both of us by changing the story a bit and finding a word to rhyme with loved. which do my readers like more i wonder. I like both!

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Finally, the ending:

I hope readers have found some enjoyment, or at least some distraction from their daily woes, by partaking some of my early August 2021 showcase. Thanks for taking a look. Unfortunately, unlike what we received from P-H LAST YEAR, till mid-December, and for years before that, we (or at least I) do not receive notices automatically of poem comments being left on 'our' poems. Therefor, in order for me to know of any comments left on this showcase, I must either return to the showcase to look for comments OR the persons commenting have to send notice of their comments to me in a message. Ah, BUT P-H is STILL FREE aka offered at no charge to us. Yay!

My thanks, as always, go to the poets who wrote the poems I've used. If any poets object to my use of their poems, they can request that I delete their poem(s) , and I shall attempt to do so [even though it is more 'work' for poor old Bri].

:) August 1st, 2021

Till next time, enjoy what you can, and try to be nice to others.

Bri
;)