Early2001

A Poetry Suite ~Dusk's Dawn | home

Early2001

There are so many really good poems to select. Thank you! I've selected a variety of emotions.

Special Artists on this page: Roger J. Robicheau, Paul E Sexton 3 (a, b, c), Alex Chornyj, Sharon Rothenfluch Cooper, Sean Money , Sylvia Leigh

Jonathan's Rain by: Sylvia Leigh

Your voice is

just as I remember.

Deep, sensual,

rushing over me

the warmest spring rain.

Each and every word . . .

like tiny raindrops

whispering

their own private secrets

before touching the ground.

I live

for rainy days

like these

and all those

surely to follow.

For spring,

my Love . . .

is nigh.

A Boy In The Rain Is Worth a Thousand Words

by Paul E Sexton 3

There is a photo

of Nando and I

in the rain,

which captures perfectly

the joy,

in being fully conscious

for the first time

of the beauty

of a thousand, thousand

drops of water

falling from the sky.

And it seems

that in all the other photos,

wherever there is a group of people,

it is me

who holds the boy,

head about level with mine.

And as I thumb

through them,

I realize

that is how it should be

he and I

together

like that.

Love In Your Call

by Roger J. Robicheau

We all face new trials, most everyday

Some are minute, while some come to stay

The test of your life, may simply appear

To fill all your thought's, with trouble and fear

So where can you go, and what will you do

To weather your storm, for what might ensue

You want to feel safe, way deep in your heart

And get the best care, right from the start

Love holds your key, to get what's in need

It comes from within, His presence is freed

With God on your side, you never will lose

His home is in heaven, a place with no blues

Trust in his truth, he has no white lies

So all pure and mighty, he'll never disguise

Faith makes the way, to weather it all

Remember to pray, with love in your call

A Poem From A Man, Who Has Finally Known Love

by Paul E Sexton 3

I love you.

You summon emotions

from places in my Atman

that can not have possibly

existed,

until you came along and

wholly created them

from the once void spaces

inside of me.

I find my thoughts

again and again returning

to everything you do.

I'm lonely when we are

apart,

wishing to be at your side

where the slightest of things

seem viewed

with brand new eyes.

Even a few of your words

are enough to make me smile.

Even a look

warms my insides. .

I don't regret a single moment

since you have blessed my days.

It may seem strange to some,

how one

who

Is very short

with funny sticking up hair

and bad table manners

is loud

often speaks incoherently

walks rather inelegantly

and displays some very selfish

destructive

even embarrassing

behavior,

could bring such pure joy

into the existence

of someone

like me.

But I walk proud

at your side

holding your hand

without any doubt

that your love for me is

pure

and everlasting.

That we possess a bond

that has no end.

I love you,

and always will.

Truthfully,

I am so remarkably glad

to be

your dad.

2000

BY HER SIDE by Alex Chornyj

Feel like hands are tied

Can't loosen, felt helpless

I'm there by her side

By mom, who's so precious.

Was always there for me

Try to return favour

So gave her a kidney

When hers had failure.

One would do same, if I

Needed such to survive

Easy to give, not take

For mom, do again in two shakes.

But when she gets sick

Do what I can do

By measuring stick

Pray, for miracle rescue.

I get down on myself

Feel world on my shoulders

Don't like to ask for help

Even when dragged under.

But one's impossible

Won't take no for answer

He treats me so special

In unselfish manner.

Do more if I let him

Still hard to keep tabs on

When he's out or in

Above or beyond.

Like me, has concern

Not stop short of goal

Eternal candle burns

Inside of our souls.

Which never sys die

At times still get down

I ask the Lord why

Mom has thorns in crown.

Want them to disappear

I look for answers

So Lord if you can hear

Please be kind to my mother.

Had to Let It Go by Paul E Sexton 3

I had to let go

of the idea

that you and I

were magic.

I thought

I loved you

as much as

one could love,

but magic

is something mysterious,

viewed from the outside

and not fully understood.

After a few years

had passed

I began to see you

as just "my wife"

It was then

you became

more a part of me

and not something

admired

from the outside.

That was really

when the love

began.

PAINTED FLIGHT

by Sharon Rothenfluch Cooper

Little golden butterflies - with

elegant shape - flutter

above the surface of the

pool, making the whole

scene shimmer. Rise in

painted flight on your

glorious wings.

You flit across the clearing as

light as air - float

past me with all the

beauty and complexity of

nature itself.

With a tremble

you change my world.

LAUGHTER

My laughter bubbles up creating a

fountain of joy; an

overflow of happiness,

reaching out, touching the

lives of others like a

soothing balm.

Show your appreciation for what

life has to offer, releasing stress.

Let it soften your sorrow,

mend the anguish,

wipe away your regret

for what might have been.

Life is captivating and complex.

Experience - savor.

View it with merriment.

It is a healing that lives

within us all.

This is a new addition with a twist: Included below is the tale of the poem's origin.

What Service! by Roger J. Robicheau The Poetic Plumber

To hold the phone can drive you nuts

Repeating statements, old music cuts

They make it sound like help looms near

You wait and wait, you pull your hair

How have we lowered to this state

Our time means zilch, Boy! ain't that great

I'd rather hear that busy sound

Than wait and simply hang around

As I form this worthless poem

My ear is stuck, to the telephone

I'm told my call's important stuff

It's been an hour, and that's enough

Bye bye music and recorded voice

With patience gone, I've but one choice

You've so succeeded to make me nervous

Over and over, I think, What Service!

The Poetic Plumber's story:

I called a company to report a problem and was immediately put on hold. Recorded music and the same message played repeatedly. I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear and began to create a poem.

When I finished my first draft, I had been on the phone for over an hour. Disgusted by this point, I hung up.

~ signed: A Poetic Plumber who has had it with the "hold syndrome". Roger.

technology vs. the poem

by sean money

we hope

our technology will

surpass our

biology

yet, in einstein's thoughts

technology has exceeded our humanity

we have already destroyed

our spirit,

we the damned

with the police sirens

revolving evil wails

outside my

window

perhaps--there is a way out

my way

out has been the poem

the art which demands

which allows

which reveals

that in the intermost

heart

there lies a fountain

that flows

eternally.

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