All Our Poetry

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

A Fossil in my own time...

I feel like such a fossil
A fossil in my own time
Don't have a cellphone or debit card
Sure am glad I have a dime

What! I can't call with that
and it's two dollars for the bus
Where'd I take that wrong turn
Watch out 'for I cuss

I no longer have my long hair
Though fantasize I do
Just a simple Hippie man
lost in this blue zoo

Author: Jeff Ruddy

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

... A BETTER MAN

I want to be a better man
a better man than I am
I told my Mom a story
Of what happened to me at work
she said "Well, you are a hard-ass"
Though said with a loving voice

I guess I don't see much grey
It all seems black or white
I'll have to try and work on that
To let others have their choice
I'll always be opinionated
Now to soften it with compassion

Please help me be a better man
a better man than I've been
I'd like to go down in Your history
Known for more than being a jerk
I've learned alot, now hope I pass
I choose you again if I still have a choice

Author: Jeff Ruddy a.k.a.-Menehune Man

I just wrote this now. A very different style than my usual 4 line rhymadillies.

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

IS THE CHURCH...

Is the "Church" the way to go
Or just praying and being there
There are ones that say they know
I think it's learning how to share

Is it going against the flow
And showing off all our flare
Maybe loading an arrow to bow
Or giving others an evil stare

I think it's keeping ourselves in tow
And showing how much we really care
Not worrying how much we stow
Or whether or not life's fair

Author: Jeffry Ruddy a.k.a.-Menehune Man

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

*I wish*

Tired and drunk, I am Home from a long excursion
sweat slick down my fore head and alcohol seeping from my breath
Entering in the Darkness with my cellphone light on, prepared for the incursion
My parents out cold and silent like death except for...

Cutting sounds from my Dad's snore
Intrude my virgin ears in the living room
A small white jack russle races to my scent at the door.
wags her tail and stand on her hind legs not giving me leg room.

Her yoda ears perked up, from her expression she is fresh to break-away
I lift her from the floor and guide her to the chair
She licks my face continously and hands me her slobbery ball to play.
I leash her collar as she jumps for joy, to make it fair
And out I go again to complete my awaited journey for the day.

She sleeps in my lap as I emmerse myself in a book.
In the morning when I wake I find her curled up on my bed
With my entire blanket wrapped around her like a hook
My nights are cold and sleepless and filled with dread
yet she's still my happy friend.

There's holes in the underwares
And sheds of white fur and vomit on the carpet
My mother yelling "Get rid of her" what a nightmare
Meanwhile she's in my room next to me away from the the threat
As my Mom unfolds her anger to the air

I've had the dog for 7 good years
yet I gave her to the humane society
I almost choked on my tears
To see her beg for me determinedly
I had no choice in actuality
I'm moving for good
I wish my mother understood
and took care of her like I know she could
I wish I could've taken my dog with me.
In the next few years I have no idea where I'll be
I wish things could've turned out differently
How I wish I had her back.
I can only wish....

Peter Littlejohn the dyslexic poet.

[kimo55]

Re: All Our Poetry

i'm all teary eyed, pedro.
but I still hate jack russel terriers.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

i'm all teary eyed, pedro.
but I still hate jack russel terriers.

Kimo you're so funny man.....I can't stop laughing man! hahahahahhaha

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

*The Sun Will Rise*

The sun will rise again,
To break away thre black skies, while the wind will blow the clouds over,
And in between on some distant shore my friend
Take's a leap into white sweet clover,
Where some one breathes another sighs,
Some one cries another take's a drink to by gone days.
In their own special ways to say good bye and farewell.
Tracing thru their golden memories, recapturing a happy moment to dwell.
Sheltered by warm unconditional love silence permeates,
And from the harbor within a gentle touch alleviate.
all that he has left behind.
The sun will rise again each time.
To break away the black skies, while the wind will blow the clouds over,
And in between on some distant shore my friend
Lies to rest my beloved partner, friend and comrade
Conrado Laoan.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

The Painter

Painted rose in all it's Splendor, Elegance and Poignance
Illustrates the Artist mood without the Fragrance.
Each color she added to the canvas dance,
From the fibers in the brush stroke taking time and Patience.
As the creator swirled her hand in remembrance
To all the the thoughts she fought askew.
Attached by recollected Mental Residue
Etched upon the walls she ever knew.
That broke the mode in which she grew.
Her feelings of solitude and sadness brew.
And bled from her heart to the edge of her fingertips she pressed lightly on.
The hue of Radiant embers came to bond,
Like flesh and Blood forming on a white pond,
The rose proceeded where blankness run-on
Which lonely beauty it's life came from
Whose shade embrace the page,
and cromson majesty like a wild sage
Colored oils impedes thru the age.
And luster that take's center stage
And like the wind will someday fade
A pedal that won't wilt, of lack from the sun's aid
Pain thus felt without touching the thorns blade.
A picture is made, in likeness of the Painters soul and love portrayed.
Her feelings came to rest where the world laid.

Peter Littlejohn the Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

A Promise

The sincere gravity of a word verbally pronounced,
Fleeting her lips momentarily for 3 minor seconds
Blurted with chains of command formally announced.
In private, a promise she reconds.
Every breath sized and measured to the ounce.

Believing her voice from the expression thus shown.
An invisible link Uniquely agreed, a bridge is drawn.
As I meditate readying to make the connection known.
I depend upon her actions following it through to truthfylly spawn.
My faith I confide with her, her tardiness I can condone.

At the moment I need her, her pressence is nowhere to be found.
Befuddled and displeased, the nerve in my head burst with fustration.
Blatantly my hopes she carry out the task astound.
To forgive Divine, but oooooh... the sensation.
What happen to her promise?

Peter Littlejohn the Dyslexic Poet.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Phalsetto

Leaning upon their foldable medal seats,
Composed in their light happy thoughts,
One strums softly on the strings, tapping his feet.
The others stare in wonder letting the chords pull the lot.

Enjoying each others good company in the evening.
A harmonic voice rings into being adding to the uplifting serenade.
Wind swept passion opens the harbor in a delightful spring.
To the boyish yoddle riding upon the tide, like a rare jade.

Sorrow and depth emanating with in the very pit of his soul.
Singing the chorus with such complexion pouring out his raw emotion.
Hitting each straining note in perfect time and succession reaching the highs and the low.
Like a whisper in the dark skimming upon the rift of the instrument and the ocean.

A ripple sweltering between the high octave melodious tunes
The nerves of his throat vibrate with in the heart of his audience.
His soulful pitch resonates and communes.
As he finishes his upward song in silent suspense.

Peter Littlejohn the Dyslexic Poet.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

New Beginings

I have often wondered why ,
Dreams don't work out the way they're suppose to,
Even when my Mother pulled me aside to set reasons why.
I listened to her fostering words as she wiped her teary eye's with a tissue,

No beating around the bushes she blurted in a single rush,
In a solemn tone without the fancy lulabyes or cheery expressions
Turning some of my feeble hopes into mush.
As fate would have it, it sounded like a confesion.

"I am sorry you can't have what you want so bad"
"I know how much you truely want it but I can't give it to you."
I've made some bad decisions in my life and I know you feel sad."
"I promise you one day my son, you will have it," heaven only knew.

Looking towards the past I was 3 feet shorter.
My only wayward dream: to visit Disney Land.
Miles away a body of ocean to charter.
My youthful eyes never did make it to that fantasy land

I regret not being able to have that experience.
Now that I have grown in height and maturity.
I'd feel out of place if I made a sudden appearance.
A giant walking among children, who probably never heard of the word poverty.

Who am I to judge them off the bat.
They're just kids living a dream I never had,
But somehow I understand what my Mom said when we had that chat.
"I've made some bad decisions in my life I know you feel sad."

Sadness is apart of what I felt but it's time I take a chance,
And start a new beginings and leave the past to rest.
I'll take my own kids one day to Disneyland to see them dance.
With Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck leaving the wondering to those crazy philosphers and scientist.

Peter Littlejohn the Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Independence Day Past

Shells errupted into the purple blanket of space.
Like comets streaking upwards into the Open Darknes.
Bursting above the Iron gates that kept us out, and up over the Airfield Base
We sat and stared like awe-struck little boys and girls enraptured by the magic and beauty that held our imaginations captive, nonetheless.
Boom! Sparks shattered into tiny sprays from the heart-pounding explosions
I held my breath as the fountain of disarayed colors formulated pictures on the evening canvas of cherries, planets and smiley faces lighting up the sky before it's surrendered implosions.
We were all gathered around sipping our drinks sharing our dreams.
For what I beleive was our final 4th of July Show.
Most of us from the group were fresh out of high school working out our schemes, not knowing where the winds would blow.
Our spirits lost in every gut wrenching, sound and destructive radiant beams.
Our hearts trumpeting the star-spangled banner, our eye's a glow.
Recapturing our fading childhood themes.
Knowing our decisions weren't in our parents hands but was now ours to play.
We toasted to our Liberation and celebrated our Indendence.
In what seems only ages ago.
I remember it as if it were yesterday.
Peter Littljejohn The dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

In Her Blood

She grabs your attention with her winning smile,
The movement of her rose bud lips and the dimples on her cheek.
Her glittery eye's makes you beleive she can carry you for a mile.
She move's her arms as graceful as a dancer, confident but meek.

She speaks her lines in such perfect diction
With an attitude, and Character she developed, over time, that feels natural and wholesome.
As if her playful words held innocence and conviction
Pulling the audience out of their stupar, at her heels they succomb.

Savory tears that spill from the center of her oculus.
Challenges the sun to shine a little brighter making cry babies out of men and women.
Simpering like wailing animals, for her fictitious pain, suffering and disgust. Flaming the pyre of our emotions to the extent of her abilities but then.

She flitters into sudden motion reaching for the star.
Giving chase to stark tall Moutains and distant worlds.
Who could imagine she'd go so far.
It's in her blood, her genes were written and twirled into performance arts.
She grabs your attention with her winning smile.

Peter Littlejohn The Dyslexic Poet.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

The Message

Her heart beat strong, beat true till the very end.
Struggling for everybreath, left in her lungs, and every ounce of blood in her veigns.
The locomotive engine, emmiting fire gave out it's flaming intend
Towards clear lavender skies her spirit Departed without strain.

Entering the void of light, she whispered her firm compassionate words.
reflected on the spectrum of bright golden embers
She looked back towards the gateway of life two thirds,
Of the way down at her home and the ones she so dearly loves and remembers.

While they slept warm and comfortable in their beds not knowing.
She sang her lamenting lulubies for when they woke.
She had passed in the hour bestowing
her affectionate and fond presence upon them before the light broke.

Upon the weary that she was in peace.
To her newborn babe she craddled in her strong protective arms,
and kissed her tenderly on the cheeks
"I'll be with you in your good times and bad, to celebrate your happy moments and pick you up when your down. I'll be there walking you down the isle in marriage when you transform into the woman you want to be."

She layed her babe down and beamed down at everyone else
With her big friendly brown eye's and her generous smile and giggled, "You'll be alright"
She set her sail upon the ocean swell.
Out past the green pasture of waves and continued her wayward journey to the light.

In loving memory to June Aipopo
Peter Littlejohn The Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Speak to me.

So you're on your merry way, now that dust has settled and the dawn is near. Speak to me why don't you, tell me where you'll most certainly be headed. Do you know where your strong wondering legs, so unsettled
With an itch to travel a land not seen, an ocean not swam, a Mountain not climbed, filled with unleaded yearnings so eagerly wish to venture?
You think you do, but that's okay you're following your heart I understand.
Dance with me for amoment forget about your plans you've made for a second.
And let your weary aching mind of adventure rest.
But speak to me for a minute and tell me what's bothering you as I extend,
My warm invitation in your lap, don't sweat the small stuff, don't worry, don't be shy.
Whatever it is by gones are by gones, it's time you move on, for now close your heavy lidded eye's and let me guide you across the vast bluff.
Tonight you share a seat in uprise.
Treck slowly, treck ever so slowly feel my scared stained gentle hands,
Grip your smoothe light feathery fingers like a dandelion I could blow you away like a loose strand from it's delicate pedals, and the perfume linger from the beauty that's left behind.
Every inch of the way I'll lead you to the center of the green trampled ground. This is your hour your time time to shine anew, before you put on your leathery shoes and start the mileage you wish to pursue, than you can go on your also merry way. And dream your dreams, live day by day, live it to the fullest,
My very friend godspeed in your journey, I hope you discover what you're looking for. Speak to me all about it when you return.
Peter Littlejohn the Dyslexic Poet