Last Commented Villanelle Poems (35)

OFTENTIMES IT AMAZES ME
I.E. LADY BEE
WHEN I LEAVE PEOPLE AND THAT SHOULD BE THAT
I MEAN IT'S OLD SCHOOL AND VERY OLD HAT
BUT THE NEXT DAY SOMEONE WILL SAY
"YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU YESTERDAY"
WHILE I'D THINK THEY SHOULD HAVE A DAY OFF NOT THINKING OF ME WITH PAY
A DAY OFF FROM THINKING OF THE ABSURD
BECAUSE EVERYTHING ABOUT MY LIFE IS......
OH I CAN'T SUMMON THE WORD
PERHAPS OBLIQUE MIGHT FIT THE BILL
OR I'M OVER THE HILL
YET IRELAND THINKS OF THE U.S.A.
FROM A CONTINENT AWAY
WELL THAT IS AN HONOR I REALLY MUST SAY
BECAUSE FOR SOMEONE TO RECOLLECT A THOUGHT OF MINE
EVEN A THOUGHT AS FAST AS A BLINK
I HEAR LADY BEE SAY "JUST SIT DOWN AND THINK"
THEN SHE WRITES A POEM WITH MY NAME IN A LINE
'TIS SWEET MY DEAR THAT YOU WOULDST CLAIM MY NAME
FOR SURELY YOU MUST KNOW I FEEL AS IF I DESERVE NO SUCH FAME
ALL I AM IS NOT WHAT YOU PROBABLY THINK OF ME
LADY BEE
THEE AS SWEET AS CAN BE
AS SWEET AS ANY HONEY A BEE EVER MADE
WHILE I AM A MAN WEAKENED TO FADE
BECOME JUST DUST
AND YET I DO THE THINGS I MUST
WHILE IN THE MIDDLE OF MY MADNESSS SHE'S MY ONLY CONCERN
AND FROM HER ACTIONS AND WORDS I HAVE SO MUCH TO LEARN
SHE CAN TEACH ME TO BE THAT WHICH THE UNIVERSE KNOWS I AIN'T
AS I PRACTICE WHAT SHE PREACHES AND LEARN SOME RESTRAINT
AND EVERYTIME SHE WRITES ME THE WORD "HELLO"
I WISEN UP ENOUGH TO ALMOST SAY "NO"
NO TO THAT WHICH SHOULDN'T BE DONE
AND SOMETIMES I FEEL SHE'S THE ONLY ONE
THE SIGNULAR SUBJECT ON MY MIND
FOR SHE GAVE SIGHT AND INTELLECT TO THE MORALLY BLIND
AND YET WE TWO JUST SOMEHOW SEEM TO FIT
BECAUSE BY A LOVELY BEE I'VE BEEN GENTLY BIT
THEN AT THE TIMES WHEN I'M FEELING LOW
I RECEIVE MAIL ON A NAPKIN FROM HER ON WHICH SHE SCRIBED "HELLO"
OR WHEN I JUST WANT TO SIT IN MY SINGLE ROOM AND CRY
I RECEEIVE A LETTER THAT READS A SIMPLE "HI"
NOW WHEREVER LIFE SHOVES ME OR WHEREVER I MAY ROAM
I'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER HER LAYING MY NAME IN THAT POEM
WELL TO THAT BEAUTIFUL BEE IT MUST BE SAID BY ME
YOU ARE RESPECT, REVERERENCE AND I SO REVERE THEE
(C)........2011 ~free cee!~
P.S. LADY BEE----WE MAY HAVE STARTED OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT
BUT NOW IT WOULD BE AN HONOR TO SHAKE YOUR HAND

I AM REPULSED BY THEIR SYYLISH THREE PIECE SUITS
AND ALL THEIR BASTARDLY BUT NOT SO BRAVE PERSUITS
I HAVE UNDENIABLE DISREGARD FOR THEIR INDELICATE DEEDS
AND AM MADE TO WRETCH BY THEIR WRETCHED NEEDS

I EVADE EVERY DILLETTANTE WITH OVERBLOWN AMBITION
AND EACH UNGENLEMANLY BEING WHO'S CONTRARY TO CONTRITION
I AM MADE SICK BY THEIR SELF-CONGRATULATORY STATEMENTS AND SUCH
AND FEEL FOR EACH UNDERLING THEY HOLD IN THEIR EGOCENTRIC CLUTCH

DAYS MELT AWAY BY THE MOON'S MEANDERING
AND THOSE PEOPLE ARE NEVER MADE TO END THEIR IMPERSONAL PANDDERING
MORALLY BANKRUPT BITCHES AND BASTARDS BETHROSED TO THEIR OPULENCE AND OCCUPATION
AS THEY FLAGRANTLY IGNORE THE RAGGED LIKE ME MADE POOR BY INFLATION

THEIR CANCEROUS GREED IS EVIDENCED BY CONCERN FOR MALIGNANT GOLD
AS THEY LIVE WITH UNDISTINGUISHED DISTURBANCE BY THOSE THEY BEHOLD
THE LAST GASP OF STARS REGARD THEIR PLEAS AS INESCAPABLE AND INNOCUOUS
AND THEIR PITIFUL PLEASURES AS SIMPLY SUPERFLUOUS

SO THEY STROLL THE STREETS AS I RETRACE THEIR STEPS UPON STONE
WISHING ALL THE WHILE THEY WILL BE HARTMED IN BOTH BODY AND BONE
BECAUSE THEIR LOVE FOR FORTUNE FORETELLS THEIR DAMNABLE DISPUTES
AND THAT DEFINES MY REPULSION FOR ALL THOSE IN THREE PIECE SUITS
(C) 2011.....~free cee!~

Futbol or soccer, as you will,
By far most popular of all.
But in the States another sport,
Attention grabs of most each fall.

The tackles, blocks, the hits and shots,
So physical, this manly game.
Each Sunday bodies pay the toll,
Each Monday many come up lame.

Emotional investment's key,
Ev'ry fan loyal to their team,
As players try to execute,
What coaches on the sideline scheme.

Some go too far, they smash and burn,
In drunken, rabid revelry.
But most just cheer, high five and yell,
When their home team gains victory.

It's like no other, this I'll say,
Each yard a battle, tooth and nail.
That ball is just a marker as,
The strong and swift each play prevail.

Yes true, it's just a Yankee thing,
Though other's may well understand,
How swept up in the game we get,
As Football Fever sweeps the land.

It's good to feel wanted..good to be alive,
For a while I was down..but I'm glad I survived...
To see your cute little face..hear your sweet baby voice,
It takes me back to the days,when I was 'one of the boys'
We'd call for our girl,then when the evening was gone...
We'd still see them home..(though sometimes at dawn)
We knew it was wrong,to keep the girls out so late..
But we were young,and the girls?..they were all special dates.
We knew that their parents, would be angry and mad..
And if a door suddenly opened..it was sure to be her Dad!
Oh,there were'nt any shotguns, no weapons in sight,
He did'nt need weapons to give us a fright.
Then next day we'd meet,and exchange a few tales..
Was her father still angry..was her mother still pale?
But we never did learn..never really heeded..
It was worth all the risk..to see the girl you needed!
And the hippies 'free love'?..well,yes it was there..
For the hippies and beatniks, with the flowers in their hair!
In their own little world,drugged up to the eyes..
Hardly surprising that so many of them died!
So were we all angels?..no,you're quite right,
We'd sometimes want more,when we cuddled up tight,
But in those far distant days..as I recollect..
For your girl,for your parents..there was always respect!
Now the sixties have gone,and I'm no longer young..
The songs we loved then?..they're still being sung..
And like those old songs..I know I'll survive,
I'm healthy,I'm happy..just glad to be alive.

---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----

Hot milk cake with cream cheese icing,
All baked up, ready for slicing.
No boxed mix, this is all from scratch,
Homemade batter in one big batch.

Eggs and milk and sugar and flour,
Just mixin' it up took me an hour.
Baking powder and vanilla,
Please turn the oven on will ya'?

Half an hour to bake it then,
Set on the rack to cool again.
That aroma that fills the air,
Can't resist it's ev'rywhere.

Cream cheese and butter, creamed up good,
Powdered sugar sift, just like it should.
Then some cocoa, vanilla too,
Stir it a while and mix it through.

Plate the cake and frost with care,
Made quite enough with some to spare.
The cake is made, that was my goal,
Just need someone to lick the bowl.

At first communications,
May be a little rough.
Silly misunderstandings,
And other mundane stuff.

But we keep working at it,
And things just might work out.
I'll do my part, I promise,
Of that please have no doubt.

When time passes with no word,
We tend to worry so.
But then we find the reason,
It helps so much to know.

So please don't give up ever,
And neither so will I.
Each storm we two shall weather,
As long as we both try.

Walking In Gods Light

As I stumble through the darkness broken, weak and torn,
I look to the east there is a small light
As I stand there the light becomes bigger and bright
All of a sudden, I find myself thinking what a beautiful light
Then out of the brightness an Angel appears saying
“Child you are not alone:”
Even though you are weak, broken and torn
God is with you he will give you strength
Do not be afraid
As long as God is with you nothing on this earth can hurt you
Remember to always walk in the light
You don’t have to be in darkness

Belinda Clark
Copyright April 4, 2008

“If Silence is golden, what is the color of noise?”
She did not die quietly. The sound-barrier blasts from the jets over her Himalayan retreat destroyed what remained of her life.
Though nothing lives forever, she once dreamed that she would.
When she was very young, she freely wandered the globe. She traveled deserts, mountains, oceans, and prairies. Before the first insect, frog, or human, peace and tranquility ruled both sides of the world.
When creatures began to roam the earth, she went her own way, often just in her own company.
She had many occupations during her life. She cared for young children playing quietly and newborns as they slept. That, of course, was before TV.
She worked with night watchmen and lone sheepherders.
Education was her career. She taught many philosophers and mystics. Her universal school transcended religion, politics or culture.
Her passions were as unique as her solitude.
You frequently could find her in empty churches or abandoned houses. She filled ball-fields after midnight.
She avoided crowds and anything mechanical or electrical. She never listened to music. Her music was soundless.
Her hobbies included hang-gliding and mountain climbing. She spent many of her vacations in the Grand Canyon. You could often meet her fly-fishing trout ponds high in the Rockies.
Her friends were often prayerful. Most of the others liked solitary walks with her in the woods.
She was Beethoven’s lover in his later years.
She was a companion to Helen Keller.
She spent time in prison camps and in solitary confinement.
There wasn’t only crying when she died. There was yelling and blaring and exploding and pounding and ticking and dripping and roaring and squeaking and throbbing and barking and thundering and ringing and elevator music endlessly.
Few know that she has died. She simply is not around anymore. She left no remains, inheritance, or next of kin.

one who loved me so much
once asked,what should i give you
to remember me always,
i replayed , you just tell me
to forget you...

when we met at a website
she wrote me to tell more and more
that would help her to know me very well,
one who never wants to be cheated.
I told her manythings and about the whole world,
but she never beilief.
i thought ,she will leave me soon,
and try another man
and wants the same.
but she is with me, waiting for something
and to know more about me.
finally i told her some words,
that was my last hope to let her go far away from me.
the words is that" the best things in the world are never displayed out side, to show its quality or value.
oh god , she stopped asking questions,
wants to meet me soon.