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  1. Link to Post #61
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    ONE poem... and I'm after sharing three. Shame on me, lol
    This is the last one I promise, my poem from middle school. I found the book and took a pic of the illustration, the big X is supposed to be an airplane ha ha. Also turns out was grade 4 not three

    What The Day Can Bring
    By me, Age 9

    After silver sunshine bright,
    The moon shines down it's golden light.
    Stars shine sweetly in the sky,
    The breeze sounds like a lullaby.

    You dream of a boat with a silver mast,
    Soon broad daylight comes, at last.
    The flowers open and the birds all sing,
    That is what the day can bring.
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  3. Link to Post #62
    United States Avalon Member thepainterdoug's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Petra, I could read many of your poems as a child. they are truly beautiful and paint a sensory picture as well. " the breeze sounds like a lullaby " sweet!!
    i say post some more! and all others keep doing so as well

    for anyone still following, i wrote this many years back about a common everyday item. can u guess? ///

    ~

    Of rectangular for you were born
    placed high atop the deep empty basin you wait
    resting in your squeaky clean manger
    your soft pink skin exudes an angelic fragrance of new life
    quiet and alone now,
    you contemplate the tasks set upon you
    close your eyes and sleep,
    for the early dawn is soon to come at hand

    a gust of wind and a flash of light bring morning in
    clear your eyes, no time for rehearsal now
    a crack in the sky and a shower of tepid rain falls
    you go to work
    give all that you know,
    all that you are which has been handed down to you
    a tradition of honor and dedication to serve

    for yours is not a life of glitter or self evocation
    your’e a martyr in a world of self proclaimed miracle makers
    unselfishly giving of body and soul
    cleansing the sins of
    housewives and secret lovers
    poets and priests
    black or white
    gay or bi
    straight or high
    you cleanse

    and in the process you quietly
    fade away
    little by little the life drains out of you
    till you are left at the bottom of the drain
    with the unwanted refuse of human existence

    and in the closing moments of your life
    you know with quiet pride
    that giving of yourself
    has helped others to live

    and thru this act of love
    you have attained
    greatness
    Last edited by thepainterdoug; 26th July 2019 at 15:10.

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    It's Soap.
    "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone when we are uncool." From the movie "Almost Famous""l "Let yourself stand cool and composed before a million universes." Walt Whitman

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    yep. soap

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Um. When I was in a creative writing class in Illinois at SIU I had been warned about this one particular teacher and not to take her class but I liked writing and decided to give her a try anyway. She was way bad on grading grammar and I mean went off on things and the bottom line was you were not going to be good enough for this woman no matter who you were or how good you thought you could write. I was so glad when she said we had to write a paper because I asked if I could write mine in stanza form and she said, "If you think you can write something long enough to meet the page requirement,( which I forget) sure! Immediately I bypassed all her grammar marks against me with that and managed to get an A in her class because of this, this ridiculous poem that no one will read but hey! I got an A and no one got A's in this woman's class! I was so proud of that but I still never showed anyone the poem... until now. I've had this hidden in a draft file for years in a blog. Forgive me but I'm going to post it here! :-)

    The Jailbird



    Chapter 1 "One Small Mistake For Man"



    He was seventeen

    six feet tall two hundred ten pounds

    And the man said he was fat

    It hurt him to hear that.

    He hit the man.

    The man was a cop.

    As time went by he got used to jail.

    It wasn't easy being poor.

    As time moved forward his record grew.

    With the list of the many victims he slew.

    A few wrong turns, some bad drug deals.

    Cops could not be his friend,

    nor could a priest or a nun.

    Never a hand they would lend

    because of the things he had done.

    One day opportunity knocked on his door.

    He went on a mission of greed as before.

    On the way he found love (to his rationalized mind)

    so caught up in dreams

    that to her were just visions

    of course it could never succeed!

    It was her money he loved

    and needed so bad

    Her rich life was something

    he never had had

    And opportunist by trade

    saw his debts all but paid

    by pretending to be so in love.

    With gifts from his ventures;

    so hot, hot indeed

    Because of her empathy

    on bail he was freed,.

    Agreements were met in the end.

    Although he was poor,

    he could knock on her door

    they could always remain as friends.

    For a while he was straightened

    in a working man's world

    The times he was busy

    things really weren't bad.

    When he wasn't busy

    he was lonely and mad.

    For the things he couldn't get

    he couldn't forget.



    Though gifted and witty

    his drive train was weak.

    Never a goal to work for in life

    His emotions unbalanced

    his life full of strife,

    he married at thirty, though never devout

    of what love they shared he had many doubts.

    Her name on the stalls of the local head

    she was known in the city

    as the lady in red.

    As time went on he befriended his gun

    In the meantime his wife had begot him a son.

    To whom never a hand he would lend

    for he was a jailbird's son.

    Some years later he became a success

    a house in the country he owned.

    His son was his student (but never his friend)

    for never a hand he would lend.

    What money he had was not really his

    just treasures from missions of greed.

    The life he chose, it should have failed

    yet somehow he made it succeed.

    Alone at his home one evening in June

    the enemy found him and said,

    "we have your son sir, what shall we do?"

    "Please officer see that he's fed"

    It wasn't unusual for his son to fall

    by this time he said what the hell!

    In the end it came easy and that's always best

    when you hide away in your shell.

    He wasn't a lawyer or carpenters son.

    He came into the family the unholy one

    and never a hand he would lend,

    for he was a jailbird's son!

    When forty two he looked a lot older

    from wrinkles that told of past days

    In his room in the evenings he'd sit and reflect

    then laugh in his belief that crime pays

    A cool summer morning, lady partner in red

    the banker would soon be broke.

    Two men dead and a stuffed money bag.

    The get away perfectly planned.

    The poor banker broke/undermanned

    His partner spoke out (her share not enough)

    demanding more money (she could make a mess)

    she threatened to run to the police to confess!



    Chapter II "No Place To Hide!"



    His final days spent in a dark clamy cell??

    He vividly believed he'd be fried!

    It was obvious now that his great country home

    was certainly no place to hide!

    In days gone by the jail was his friend.

    A great refuge point again and again,

    behind bars is true, but surviving not dead,

    and there he at least had a meal and a bed.

    This time however, his price was much higher.

    Two murders connected his name

    his old time pals could possibly help,

    but his capture could bring them great fame.

    Through sleepless nights in a dark musty cave

    a hideout for freedom he sought.

    His woman had cheated, the money he hid.

    To move on he risked getting caught.

    o walls carved of rock

    of you I call home

    This whole vaast country

    I dare not roame



    my guilt is not heavy

    my fear is so great

    my stomach is empty

    o what is my fate?



    for here I have nothing

    a dark clamy cell!

    What is the difference?

    In the dark you can't tell!



    In my life I have gambled

    many times before.

    This risk I must take

    to open new doors.



    Her words in my memory

    I hope she didn't lie

    she said I could knock

    there is no place to hide no place to hide!



    He remembered her words

    her soft voice he heard remembering always

    though slightly obscure

    He hoped to be welcome

    but still wasn't sure

    Confusuion and doubt filled his brain.

    If she misunderstands it'll all be over.

    Could this be the end of his pain?

    He sees the still water of the resident pool.

    The bushes are thick and green, where to hide

    hoping not to be seen where I hide where I hide

    A light in her window there is someone there

    I hope she accepts me, I hope to explain

    perhaps she can help me understand my pain?

    At the door looking ragged

    the jailbird stood silent.

    She gazed with a cold hard stare.

    At first she didn't know him,

    it had been so long,

    He had lost a lot of his hair.



    "Yesterday was so far away," he said,

    "When I thought I'd left you for good."

    She answered him slowly in a soft steady tone.

    "I said you could knock on my door.

    You cannot stay here, you would not be safe.

    You know you should stay away from this place!"

    The jailbird stood listening and quickly replied,

    "you're right, I should leave, it was foolish I see.

    To think you could risk helping someone like me?

    I'm sorry I'll go"

    He then turned his head and started to leave

    when the young lady said,

    "please, understand, its not that I wouldn't

    my reputation you see,

    I mean I really shouldn't.

    I own a warehousel supply. I'll help you to hide,

    but don't ask me why."

    With that there was silence, he then walked inside.

    And they plotted the warehouse

    where the jailbird would hide!



    Chapter III "The Detective"



    A man's reputation

    would soon be at stake

    A large sum of money;

    the reward he would take.

    A detective he was, of whom all have heard

    and now he must capture that nasty jailbird!

    A ruthless man the detective he was,

    intending to find every cent.

    An impossible task for a lessor man

    the detective's techniques held resent!

    Though he didn't care about that,

    to find the killers, those dirty rats!

    Dead or alive, they must be found.

    A detective he was, a cocky blood hound!

    The first thing to do

    a records review

    hoping to find that first clue!



    "I've tracked many men,

    and never once failed.

    I'm proud of the many crooks

    I have nailed!



    My sorrow is deep

    for the jailbird deprived

    Perhaps in another life (ha!)

    he might have survived!



    Down at the station

    the paper work deep

    The money still missing

    but not yet spent

    They must find out

    where that jailbird went!

    The days slowly passed

    in this real hide and seek

    The jailbird still wanted

    witnesses few

    The lady in red

    acting so meek

    down at the station she dropped the first clue! Oh what to do?

    With witnesses few

    A man forty two. a little bit fat.

    Six feet tall, skin slightly dark.

    They now had his name

    his record was long

    So fortunate the lady

    was singing her song

    The lady had said, he had someone else

    though she didn't know her name.

    All she knew was he cared

    yes the jailbird, he had an old flame!

    And the inspector detective needed more facts

    was the flame of the past still active and burning?

    For the precious reward the detective was yearning!

    Yesterday's paper could help.

    The jailbird's son arrested for theft.

    Perhaps he will take it if offered release?

    The bail the detective met.

    The jailbird's son was allowed to go free

    His father? A date with destiny.

    The flame would be watched with an eagle's eye

    the jailbird in hiding he hoped to spy

    In the darkness he hid

    with spy glass in hand

    All over the mansion

    his eyes did scan

    He looked at his watch

    just about ten....

    Thinking to leave

    he noticed her then.

    Going for a walk?

    No going for her car

    He had to pursue her

    no matter how far.

    She drove quite a while

    a dark winding road

    He followed her closely (to the jailbird's abode?)

    To a warehouse and yard a curious fact

    he parked in the darkness.

    as she walked inside.

    At a distance he followed

    He would not be denied!



    Chapter IV "The Capture"



    Patiently waiting for something to break,

    unconsciously counting the money he'd make.

    The detective sat in quiet recluse.

    Feeling somehow the facts a bit loose

    He walked to a window to peer inside

    as he looked to the left its the jailbird he spied!

    Listening intently to all that was said

    he heard the young lady say, "you made your own bed! I felt sorry for you, oh what to do,

    I felt sorry for you, because of your pain! But dragging me here will drive me insane! "

    And as the jailbird was asking what else he could do

    the detective made steady progress.

    For now he stood inside, and yes it is true

    the blood hound could smell his success!

    He heard the young lady refuse to pitch in

    she said this is fruitless you know you can't win!

    With that she got up, (to go back to her car?)

    The detective felt sorry for her mental scars

    Then the jailbird stood up and said, come with me

    grabbing the lady thinking them free

    and as he went for the door he made little progress

    when the detective shouted you're under arrrest!



    In a cold clammy cell the jailbird now sits

    the young lady allowed to go free.

    The detective is proud of his cunning and wit

    and the son; he left the country.



    The Jailbird and partner (the lady in red)

    now both live in jail (they made their own bed)

    They will probably die there but still find it funny,

    the detective couldn't recover one red cent of the money!
    The genius consistently stands out from the masses in that he unconsciously anticipates truths of which the population as a whole only later becomes conscious! Speech-circa 1937

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    Avalon Member East Sun's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Read it all, it's beyond me for the most part

    Reminds me of a teacher I had who insisted on
    100% accuracy. I got an A for being obsessive (I think)

    But a very interesting poem, vert unique
    Question Everything, twice or maybe trice..........

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    United States Avalon Member thepainterdoug's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    RATZINGER/ Looked at it and realized I canT read AT this moment, so will do Sunday night. tonight! THANKS EVERYONE!!

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    United States Avalon Member Ratszinger's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    So long as you poor guys don't sue me for your therapy after it's cool!
    The genius consistently stands out from the masses in that he unconsciously anticipates truths of which the population as a whole only later becomes conscious! Speech-circa 1937

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    United States Avalon Member thepainterdoug's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Ratzinger/ that was quite a caper. and quite a stream of consciousness !

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    There's this poem from my younger days, written by someone else. I can't remember it.
    This poem I've wrote is a tribute to that poem. If it rings any bells, or reminds anyone of a published poem they know.. please share, I'm desperate to learn the name of the poem and writer again.
    "Go to sleep, it's very late"
    "I can't tonight, monsters hide"
    "Scared of monsters? they don't exist, you silly thing, let me tuck you in"
    But they do exist, the lies protect, the monsters are real, be scared of them
    Last edited by YoYoYo; 29th July 2019 at 20:42. Reason: second 'exist' turns into 'are real'

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    Avalon Member East Sun's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Monsters do exist, spiritual monsters, that is. That's why our parents never saw them when they looked under our bed.
    Question Everything, twice or maybe trice..........

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Quote Posted by East Sun (here)
    Monsters do exist, spiritual monsters, that is. That's why our parents never saw them when they looked under our bed.
    Yes..a host of spiritual monsters! and monstrous people, monstrous administration and legal systems, and bacteria, and monstrous effect with good intent, and monstrous effect just because it is. Oh, and literal crypto-monsters.

    To be fair, my parent did tip me the wink they exist, including reading to me the original published poem.

    And that's why I've got writers block to develop this theme further, even though it looks brimming with opportunities for development. Someone else could take the theme and play, I would be delighted to see that, if it was fun for them

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    United States Avalon Member Valerie Villars's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Spiritual monsters
    round me did linger
    I gave them a glance
    and then gave them a finger.
    Last edited by Valerie Villars; 30th July 2019 at 22:43.
    "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone when we are uncool." From the movie "Almost Famous""l "Let yourself stand cool and composed before a million universes." Walt Whitman

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Haha brilliant!

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Scotslad's Wet Pet is very clever!
    A month ago I visited my 8 year old grandson in the wilds of Western Australia. I was there for just 5 days and the morning that I was leaving, he appeared with a white face. I asked him if he was ill. He said, no, he was sad. And then he spoke a poem he had just written. Here it is verbatim. the word "your" is correct.

    "I'm sad
    your departure
    from this suffering town of gold."

    The town he lives in is a gold-mining town. I was stunned and thrilled by this haiku brevity. Out of the mouths of babes.

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    One from my past.

    “Irises”

    The irises have opened
    Paper-thin petals beckon
    And as I gaze down their velvety throats
    I marvel at such an elegant gift.

    I have arranged them just so
    Stalks thrusting into the morning air
    Lovingly held in a jug of amber glass
    Each perfect bloom humming its purple and yellow tune.

    I like them more than the candle holders
    More than the tea-towel with fish on it
    More than the tiny toe ring
    And more than the box of courage
    Though god knows I’m going to need that.
    Their quiet virtue speaks and I listen
    Willing them to stay alive a few days more.

    The irises have opened
    I wish you could see them
    They take pride of place on my old polished table
    I have cleared the decks
    For I want nothing cluttering up the space,
    Nothing distracting my eyes from their delicate charm

    The roses, though flash in their silver dressing
    And surrounded by baby’s breath
    Can’t compete
    Their effort of wooing me is wasted
    I avert my eyes as I pass their corner of the room
    For I am a faithful lover
    And I have pledged my allegiance
    To the irises.

  32. The Following 8 Users Say Thank You to Meryl For This Post:

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  33. Link to Post #77
    United States Avalon Member thepainterdoug's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Meryl/ wonderful! I remember a Robert Frost poem of a similar sentiment.

    btw/ how weird, I just last night watched the most obscure film on an Australian mining town, and the gals that come into town to tend bar at it. quite sad.
    the poem is terrific!

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    United States Avalon Member Valerie Villars's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Doug, what's the name of the movie?
    "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone when we are uncool." From the movie "Almost Famous""l "Let yourself stand cool and composed before a million universes." Walt Whitman

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    United States Avalon Member thepainterdoug's Avatar
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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Val its called HOTEL COOLGARDIE. found it on amazon prime. anyone that likes this film and stays with it to the end is someone I want to know.

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    Default Re: Share one poem from your younger days

    Love is sacred.

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