“I do utterly despise dailiness as it stands. I can’t abide what the world has become, the frozen-ness of our product this evil thing that we kiss the ass of every hour. I want a dailiness that is free and beautiful.”
Alice Notley, poet
Day: September 20, 2019
Surviving the test of Time
Showing you don’t care is easy, you throw the person out of all equations and ignore their very existence. But to truly mean you care for someone is an arduous task, for it is more than any spoken words, you nurture hope, you surround with empathy, you defy all perturbations, you essentially embrace a person without reasoning and never get influenced by any externalities to define your love.
And if you see someone who you thought cared for you but because of circumstantial incidents the person drifted away, well my friend then that person never truly cared for you. Ethereal bond survives time, never diminishes its shines and that heart will throb with increase escalation even when you are meeting after eons. My love for you is such, it has and will survive the test of times
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express…
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“Turn, turn, turn
Turn, turn, turn
The old poet sang a lullaby.
Sensual woman whispered to me once,
come live with me and be my lover.
I will be your salvation and you will be my rock to keep me steady.
Beautiful lady ambushed my heart and I learn her appetite for
kisses and embrace. Her charm and sovereign eyes made me blind
and with the wishes for more.
Real life lullabies rarely are perceived till too late.
Our heart and mind turn, turn and turn some more.
Love demand payment.
The chronicle of an forever love is like a willow tree.
We must be willing to flex and bend like free branches to keep the sovereign eyes,
bright, content and near.
Love bold, love behold, love dwell where two people hold tightly when the storms
of life is at hand.
Coyote/John Castellenas
On Noticing Small Things
Pay attention, be astonished, tell about it. Mary Oliver
I was never much of a noticer until I took Glen Moffat’s Natural history class in my sophomore year of college. Until that time most birds other than gulls, jays, & hawks were all little brown things that flit about in the trees. Wildflowers were all pretty. Trees were either pines with needles or trees with leaves.
We wore hiking boots to that class. Armed with binoculars and magnifying glasses off we went on various field trips up into the Bay Area hills and beaches. Mr. Moffat was a short middle-aged guy with the 
exuberance of a young golden retriever. His enthusiasm was infectious. Suddenly all those little brown birds were visual wonders with names. Among the many were wrens, bluebirds, flycatchers, tanagers, warblers, and sparrows with all manner of coloring, beaks, and feet. Ducks were not ducks any more…
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Tapestry – A poem by Goff James
Poem Attribution © goffjamesart/photography/poetry
Click here to read more micro poems by Goff James.
Author’s Addendum
Image Attribution © Niki Hare, At All, (Date Unstated)
Source Attributionhttps://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-At-All/93960/2579819/view
A Little Longer
“I remember the people that love me.
And that gives me the strength to keep fighting.”
Boulders are shackled to my legs and I’m being dragged to the bottom of an icy ravine. The deep blue water envelops me and I see the moon twinkling through from above. The pressure rises in my head and all I can do is pull against those restraints. Knowing that it’s a futile battle. Knowing I won’t make it to the surface. For a flicker of an instant, I wonder if the world would lament my loss. But then, I remember my son. Each time he smiled at me, gave me a hug, and tried to make me smile. I remember my husband, and all those times he looked into my eyes. Every touch. Every promise. I remember the people that love me. And that gives me the strength to keep fighting. To pull…
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Hate and violence
With hate no peace can be reached
With violence no love
DidiArtist, 04.09.2018
“For you have the power, but we have the vote”
“Come gather round people wherever you roam
And admit that our country don’t feel like our home
And that silence speaks louder than those who condone
If a tweet to you is worth favin’
Then lift up your voices and put down your phones
For the times they are a-changin’ “Jimmy Fallon, sings his contemporary and politically charged version of Bob Dylan’s ” The Times They Are A Changin’ “
Come gather round people wherever you roam
And admit that our country don’t feel like our home
And that silence speaks louder than those who condone
If a tweet to you is worth favin’
Then lift up your voices and put down your phones
For the times they are a-changin’Come women and men who hashtag Me Too
And believe me when I say that we believe you
For weak is the man who calls truth “fake news”
Time’s…
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The last time I saw your face
The last time I saw your face, my kind friend. I remember.
When we are blessed with youth and vinegar. We don’t know. We have few mentors and people who shall love us. Today, I walk slower and I think before I speak. I pay attention to my loved one. Gone and with me. I make time for the children and the grandchildren.
When I was eighteen years old in 1977. Dear Grandmother and grandfather Reyes took me the bus station for the Army. I can still see them with sad faces as the Grey Hound bus took me to New Jersey today. I volunteered for every active conflict and I did not fear death. I called my Grandfather in the Winter of 1991 when I was in the war-zone. My sister answered, not knowing it was me. She told me. Mr. Reyes died last week. I dropped the phone…
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Rocking Chair Education
On my last job, managing a siding warehouse, I met Mr. Ed. He was a fine gentleman of a generation gone by. He was our driver and delivery person. We found a lot in common and in between trips sat in rocking chairs talking about a little bit of everything. He came down with pneumonia and died the last year I worked there. It was a great loss for all of us.
I learned a lot there
sitting in a rocking chair
listening to age
speaking wisdom and knowledge
into my mind and my soul
*
Thank you Mr. Ed
Painting of me and Mr. Ed: Dwight L. Roth
The Reluctant Poet 