Emile Joseph Pinet comes to us from Canada.

He can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/Emile

Unlike A Queen

Shrill cries of seagulls fall from the air

as birds ride warm thermals off her shore.

An old ocean ripe with primal smells

sprays a salty brine upon her core.

In solitude she stands gazing out

looking for her birth-land and sister twins.

In Paris and Luxembourg Gardens, 

they too raise their torches to the winds.

"Liberty Enlightening the World",

sisters born to celebrate kinship.

Stout guardians of independence,                        

gestures of two great nation’s friendship.

Freedom symbols for the U.S. and France

standing for a new faith in mankind.

Our copper lady’s a beloved friend,

holding her light high for all to find.

At her feet lies a broken shackle

representing the rise from oppression.

Wearing a crown of the seven seas,

she portrays a regal expression.

Greeting the sun in New York’s harbor,

standing tall and proud in robes of green;

poised with grace, dignity and grandeur,

bare feet in sandals, unlike a queen.

Check him out.

Roger Worley, 61, known to many of us as The Quill, died Dec. 31st, 2007.

Roger Cordell Worley

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Funeral Information

Visitation:

Thursday, January 03, 2008 2:00 P.M. to 8:00 P.M. at Jay Chapel, Madera, CA

Service Information:

Friday, January 04, 2008 2:00 PM Arbor Vitae Cemetery, Madera, CA

Interment:

Arbor Vitae Cemetery, Madera, CA

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---

     

Roger, age 61 of Fresno, Ca. died on Monday, December 31, 2007 at Community Hospital in Fresno, Ca.

Roger was born on May 14, 1946 in Lebanon, Tn. He attended elementary school in Madera and graduated from Madera High School, class of 1964 and entered the U.S. Army the same year. Following basic training he served 3 years duty in Germany. Roger was a 40 year resident of Fresno, Ca.

Roger was employed by the Conwood Corporation of Memphis, Tn. as a California Marketing Representative for 20 years, retiring in 1998.

He is survived by his mother, Mrs. Irene Helm of Madera, a son and two daughters and spouses, Roger C. Worley II and wife Joscelyn of Oakland, Ca. , Karla and Husband Matthew Detmer of Modesto, Ca. and Leslie Worley of Turlock Ca., and one grandchild, Alexis Marie Detmer of Turlock, Ca. Four step brothers and sisters, Roger Helm of Fresno, Ca. Paul Helm of Santa Cruz, Ca, Claudia Eller of Fresno, Ca, and Margot Sciacqua of Madera, Ca. and numerous aunts, uncles and cousins.

Visitation will be at Jay Chapel on Thursday, January 3, 2008 from 2 to 8 PM.

A graveside service and interment will be at Arbor Vitae Cemetery in Madera on Friday, January 4, 2008 at 2 PM.

The family requests remembrances to Childrens Hospital of Central California or the American Cancer Society.

Thanks to Val Magnuson for this information.

Pat Little comes to us from Great Britain.

She can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/passim

Irresistible

He looked at me today as he walked by.

A gentle look; a most beguiling eye.

As if to tempt me; asking me to stay.

“Come chat a while” I almost hear him sigh.

But I have noticed him before today,

and every time he looks at me this way.

With minutes ticking by again so fast;

admire him? yes of course, but couldn’t say.

Maybe today I’ll stop a while at last.

Although this time his eyes are downward cast;

appealing still, something I can't deny.

I know he’s pleased that I’m not rushing past.

I can't resist; I feel I must reply. 

This border collie pup's a handsome guy!

Check her out.

Now we have Idle Mind Wondering, whose outlook on life is unique and acute.

He is a resident of the great state of Massachusetts.  

Check him out here:

http://allpoetry.com/poem/3309524

The Hitchhiker

The hills are stacked with city houses,

above and below, 

as the road disappears through a tunnel.

Sound diminishes within hushed echoes.

It seems so much more 

than a couple of years

since decidedly standing  

upon the on ramp of escapement

from small-town views.

Now reaching the end

of this highway’s promise.

          <~>

She was old

and called Tennessee

her home;

I was new

on the road to nowhere.

She picked me up out of the night

and we drove on;

Her beauty was beyond me

like a best friend’s mother.

She was watching my shy glances

as we talked away the miles;

until her eyes held mine 

and a confident hand 

                        touched me.

Somewhere on the side 

of a Pennsylvanian road

I forgot all about the 

high school girls.

          <~>

What impresses me the most 

is the limitless diversity of people

and their eager willingness 

to befriend a stranger;

if a stranger is willing to be a friend.

          <~>

Trees fall hard on the edge

of the Rockies;

at least for the new kid,

only three days in logger’s camp comrade.

But a skidder rolled today,

tomorrow we’ll bury a veteran

and I feel like I’ve known these people

my whole life.

          <~>

Cultural and geographical changes

are superficial;

in the end we really are

all the same.

          <~>

Backpack in tow

I climbed aboard

with a simple man 

who spent hours 

trying to sell me the Bible.

Carefully, I listened, 

because every soul has a story to tell.

He dropped me off 

at love’s doorstep

in the Pacific Northwest.

I became a second rate cook

for a lousy waitress - 

barely out of high school.

She was exotic

with eyes to mesmerize

And I became the fool, 

a puppet waiting for strings.

But boy,

  could that girl dance,

may the bus boy 

        have the best of luck.

          <~>

I could go home now

            if I thought I might belong.

But the road only goes one way.

It’s not very far, but long enough

and as day light heralds the tunnels end

I am granted a view of virgin landscape.

A vast valley 

without a single man-made-structure

and I am tempted to believe

that this is all undiscovered;

if not for the road running through it.

Check him out.

Today, we have Gary Tonge Latimer who comes to us from Great Britain.

He is a painter and poet, and can be found here:

http://www.ifreelance.com/pro/34726

as well as here:

http://allpoetry.com/Thoughts-of-Soloman



 

So You Think You Are Known by Your Self?

BE A STRANGER TO YOURSELF.

So

you think

'you' know your own 'self'?

Then you think 'you' know what Self is.

When you take it for granted, your 'me' is owner and keeper?

As if you, as your 'you', are your own independent preserver!

You think, 

and you stand, 

as if supporting your 'self',

yourself!

While not even remembering to breathe in your 'tent'!

Do 'you' keep your heart beating

while your nature is completing

its Truth

which you didn't invent? 

There are 'Hands' that waft over oceans

across worlds we've not known,

in which your dependence is held like a mote.

You are what you've always been,

though you don't remember, 

before even the thought of 'you' 'spoke'!

In that mind which would have tailored independent existence,

when cut from no such cloth beyond the Universe!

Know it isn't alone

when facing the danger.

When you've learnt to have 'Vision',

you'll see yourself as a stranger.

A

Beauty

beyond anything

you possibly could imagine;

your psyche released into far beyond

anything your stubborn mind

could possibly grasp.

Learn to become

A stranger to

yourself

unless

you

are

an

ass.

Check him out.

Carrol Denny comes to us from Overland Park, Kansas, USA.

Known as suseann on Allpoetry.com, she can be found here.

http://allpoetry.com/suseann

Branded Fascism

A_lienation of the people from their own government

M_assive tax breaks for corporations and the upper 1%.

E_nron cover up and pardon

R_eligion control law of allotted tax monies for social programs

I_nvasion of Iraq and a generational war

C_landestine secret meetings and totalitarian control

A_cclimating US citizens to forced new world order  

' C_uts in social programs and or eliminating them

S_kull and Bones members secret meetings and rituals

F_isa

A_mnesty for illegals

S_care tactics

C_orporate coddle

I_nternational unfair trade agreements

S_ystematic slaughter of Constitutional law

M_anipulation of federal and international banking

Check her out.

Ryfkah comes to us from L.A., California, USA, where she is doing field work for UCLA as a reading specialist.

The Pope’s Red Shoes

I called across the canyon

The snake wind echoed my name

Red shoes fell from the sky

like stardust or manna from heaven

Singing over the rainbow

and tap dancing on the good ship

lollypop I narrowed my vision

picked up a pair to wear

My feet glistened crimson

sparkled with rubies

ignited vermilion flames

My name still resonated

the Voice of G-d

The canyon’s red walls paled

The sun lost its searing glow

Other red shoes crept away

into ancient crevices or hid

under boulders billions of eons

I tapped my heels together

in prayer in emulation of ?

The canyon whirlwinded away

The sky flew by on its broom

I found my beyond home 

sweet

home

Ryfkah 4/20/08

She says:

“I teach 2nd grade every day, high school after school twice a week, preschool after school twice a week.  English language development for all of 2nd grade three times a week, and Sunday school at my synagogue.”

Gregory James comes to us from Portland, Oregon, USA.

He's known as PsydewaysTears on Allpoetry.com.

He can be found here:

http://allpoetry.com/PsydewaysTears

The Colormaker's Nest

When days go on like sad, sad songs

and poems bite the dust

and words just seem to tag along

and wither as they rust

when times like these

are left at ease

and hope's just left to die

that's when I crawl

back up that wall

and give it one more try

there's nothing life can pin on me

for giving all I've got

I've made it there and back for free

and fate can't have my spot

the world's a place

where all can face

each day with hope to fix

the things that drain

the clouds that rain

into a sweeter mix

with patience and a steady sight

we're sure to see the sky

for through the clouds comes idle light

and rainbows way up high

they mark the time

to spread your rhyme

and finish with a start

and though you may

see only gray

you'll always have your heart

and colors, you'll have colors too

'cause in the tears of truth

it's clear to see the brighter you

so share your youth forsooth

with pinks and greens

and ultramarines

and lavender-lilac-la mode

'cause time's best spent

when you invent

your colors, your choices, your road

and in your strands they'll see your tale

your stories will shine like the dew

as I pray that yours will never fail

I remind you that sometimes, they do

now this spider's got news

of new hues to infuse

and more storm clouds are bound to appear

so goodbye my dear

your path is now clear

may you shimmer each color you choose.

Check him out.