Back to basics – week 58


An excellent link is included in this to a site worth looking at if you write.

Learning to write

The idea, from the start of this blog, was to get better at writing; In my mind, it was to get better at the technical side of writing – the punctuation and grammar.

I have been somewhat successful in learning the craft, and I make a lower range of mistakes than I used to. However, overall I am still making quite a few mistakes, especially when I am writing fast and not concentrating.

I make a lot of errors with commas, most of the time it is a missing comma after the introductory clause or a missing comma in a compound sentence. Admittedly, the ‘rules’ for commas are the most complicated, even at 100% concentration. I don’t think I could write with flawless grammar and punctuation, mostly because of commas.

Back when I started, I used to practice using this website. It helped me improve, but one of the…

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MY MOM


This saddens me. I lost my mother to cancer as well. It was a slow death. Prayers to you and to her.

keithgarrettpoetry

PLEASE SAY A PRAYER FOR MY MOM, SHE IS VERY SICK WITH CANCER.

WE JUST FOUND OUT SHE HAD IT 6 DAYS AGO AND IT’S TAKING HER AWAY.

THIS IS MY MOTHER, I WAS A CHILD WHO DEPENDED ON HER FOR MY DAY,

I’VE KNOWN HER FOR ALL OF MY YEARS, SHE’S DISAPPEARING,

HER SOUL AND SPIRIT ARE SOON, DRIFTING FAR AWAY.

THIS IS NOT OKAY, I WON’T SAY THAT IT’S NOT FAIR,

MY MOTHER HAS LIVED A LONG LIFE, A GIFT PERHAPS NOT THERE.

I LOVE YOU MOM,

KNOW THAT I CARE.

YOUR SON, KEITH

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Friday 3.22.19 & New Poem


Another Friday. Another morning. Decisions to be made.

The property in Albany, GA has a contract on it. Wow, cannot believe how fast that happened. It just all fell in place within less than a week.

HUNGER SEEKING HUNGER

Beyond the window glass
Just there across the green cut grass
Dark blue and grey lies our pond that is filled with life
Pelted with a soft rain that sudden came
Leaving the surface dimpled, breaking the smoothness
Near a group of water birds that sat and pruned their feathered bodies
To dry off the wet from a recent dive for a fish for food
While an alligator who had been asleep in the sun was awakened
Disturbed it slid in off the bank in search of something to eat
Then, tail side to side, slowly the hunt began
With only eyes above the surface
It worked its way toward the birds who turned to look.

Copyright 2019 by Gordon Kuhn

 

When politics are in play!


Very strong, emotional, and simply elegant.

Silent Songs of Sonsnow

When the politics are in play
With one interest over another,
Will our cause be a card?
To be played among the Politicians?

When the world rolls over the golden ball
With all eyes open to grab it with a glimpse,
Will they see the smokes rising from a far distance?
Will they hear the screams from the invisible cells?

When the leaders lined one after another
With a split seconds smiles,
Will they share the truth of tyranny?
Will they care the cry of a commoner?

When the borders and boundaries are marked
With a line of arms and ammunition,
Will the truth get a gate pass?
Will justice be done in favor of freedom?

When the world lust for money and power
With all in once shaking each other’s hand,
Will the wellbeing of commoners be considered?
Will they still stand strong with Truth and Justice?

When the…

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Wednesday and Two Tours in Vietnam!


Good Wednesday to you all! For me it started with being startled out of my sleep. That was because I had a rough night and needed more sleep and my wife had to wake me because I had a breakfast meeting to go to. So, I changed the time and met a buddy about an hour later than normal. He is a former Army Medic that did two tours in Vietnam.

He had wanted to be a doctor. He joined the Army and requested training in field medical. He then did two tours as an airborne medic. He saw enough blood and gore to end his desire for being a medical doctor. He is loaded with PTSD. Sad, really, I think he would have been a good physician.

Jan and I are both tired from driving to and from Georgia. Just a long trip surrounded by idiots either driving too fast or too slow.

One thing I will never understand is that near the Florida/Georgia border their is activity by both the Florida Highway Patrol but on the Georgia side they are like a bee hive that has been whacked with a stick and the idiots on the highway just go flying along. Between the border and Tifton it is a good chance to see (on both sides N and S) five to six cars pulled over. One would think that would slow things down. The answer is NO they just go flying along oblivious to the stops.

We have a radar detector but always drive within the speed limit. I just don’t understand these other people. And then, you will occasionally see not just one cop car with a stop but two and three on one car. Now why would someone want to bring dope into either state. Stupid. They are waiting for you.

Anyway, that’s it for today. Tired. Already irritated a nephew who is anti-gun, anti-Catholic, anti-Irish, and anti-Jewish. So I shall retire into the sunshine. Until tomorrow.

Stranded Feet


Interesting and wanted to share with my readers.

BY THE LEFT HAND...

Salted shores of grain,

craft in marbles shade.

Roving squawks of wild,

jostle landscapes jade.

Tranquil gusts of heart,

flatter dunes with bow.

Whisper of soft sands,

swear allegiances vow.

Torn wounds in fester;

graze does knit on knee.

Powerless to her peril;

drowning lips of sea.

Statue tides of stone,

plunge their fears in fret.

Swallowing the sailor,

riddled through regret.

Compass lost direction,

denied is point of north.

Tossed into abandon,

posture now goes forth.

Bounded by no map;

wilder beach shall greet.

One who frees themself,

loose of stranded feet.

©Brett Kristian 2019

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My Kinda Woman


I like the thought behind this. Yes, the outline for a great female partner in life.

The Travellothoner

Out of the 7 people billion people in this world,

3.5 billion to pick and choose from.

And yet here I stand in front of the universe,

Waiting to find the one I’d call My Kinda Woman.

Some prefer sexy while others prefer tall,

Some prefer athletic while others prefer a doll.

3.5 billion types to choose from,

But somehow I struggle to even find a date to prom.

As I sit here writing about my preferred woman,

Thus evolves a vague image in my head.

Someone I hope who keeps me on my toes,

Someone who shares with me all her woes.

An independent woman who knows her way,

A wonderful woman who’ll brighten my day.

With an effortless smile and a contagious laugh,

Someone personifying my world in a photograph.

Unapologetically herself perfect in her imperfection,

A woman so awesome that she can be humble.

To you dear…

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Nadine


What a great little story. Very sweet. Great visions. Thanks for sharing.

Storyshucker

There was a chilly mist in the March air, but I love my early morning walks and this gray gloom wasn’t going to keep me from today’s. I stopped midway on a bridge over the creek to watch a pair of mallards silently pick and poke along the muddy bank. Nothing could ruin this perfect serenity.

“Hey!” the shrill voice called. “Beautiful, right?” The spry old woman pointed towards the ducks as she marched enthusiastically onto the bridge to stand beside me. She twirled her arms in several rapid circles, stretched her back, then leaned on the railing and began doing standing push-ups. Dressed in sweat pants and jacket, baseball cap and sneakers, she had all the markings of devoted walker.

“Hi.” I said tentatively, unsure of what was happening.

“You’re from the South, aren’t you? Hiiiii. That’s how you said it. Hiiiii.” She spoke with her back to me…

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remember me like this


Another great work of modern poetry. Open, honest, sharing that cannot be denied in so many respects.

Melody Chen

and finally, we allow ourselves to be seen in plain sight
spread our gossamer souls flat on the table
the fatigue i’ve hauled around for so long has finally alighted
our fingers close around something soft
we deserve this, after all the enamel we’ve drilled

i think about everything this girl has left behind
how sometimes my mind still plays your name like a staccato note
but it’s different now, it doesn’t hurt anymore
to not think about you, and i’ve still no idea how to love
but damn at least i haven’t stopped trying

and oh, how the years have passed, our ages in tow
leaving greener days behind, and
growing closer to something that may resemble adulthood
but god, the way we hold the world in our palms
in moments like these, will never change

whatever our expiry date is, we are far from it tonight
we blow…

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Drinking Poetry


I like this a lot. Good job, Literary Remains. It took a lot of thought I am sure.

Literary Remains

I am unable to Poe
and wanting to Plath
as I listen in darkness
to Longfellow’s serenade
drinking absolute
torch and Twain
as Ayr’s bard Burns,
like Dante’s Inferno
sliding down…
down… my throat
ere a chilly Frost,
while daring to walk
on The Road Not Taken
with Tolkien’s Hobbits
running Swift and Wilde…
Sexton coughs, “Live or Die!
and Cohen croons, “Hallelujah!
until the night is over and Donne.

© Literary Remains

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