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Daily Archives: May 19, 2015

A COAL MINERS PRAYER

coal

A TRIBUTE TO THE LAST NOTTINGHAMSHIRE COAL MINERS

COLL

DUE TO CLOSE JULY 2015

Breakdown

break 

When your world is crashing around you,

When your head is in a mess,

When you take it out of your loved ones,

When you think you know beast.

 

When you want to hide away from life.

And blame everybody at fault,

When you feel out of control,

That’s when you need to call a halt.

 

My friend, you are heading for a breakdown,

For your life is out of control,

You need help to correct it,

Before it rips out your soul.

 

Don’t try to correct it yourself,

You need help from another source,

Allow your doctor to treat you,

So that you can get back on course.

 

For when you have had your treatment,

Those dark clouds will drift away,

You then will be back to normal,

You then will see the light of day.

 

Malcolm Bradshaw

The Air Guitar

EASTER ISLAND -Promote Yourself

easter 

Constructing sightless eyes no

    one will see

They toil;

Probing rock with human fingers

They grope;

One – minded their effort approaches

    uniqueness,

Years past witness human fingers to

    dust,

Monuments remain to visit their labor;

Solemn stone faces looking out,

Pumice minds knowing an age of men

Possessing greatness long gone –

Deaf ears formed with stone axes,

Blood and sweat transformed

To monumental greatness;

Waiting on Easter Island .

Walt Trizna

I wrote a poem about these feelings, and it was published in 1975.  The poem was published in the anthology, Best Poets of the 20th Century (another magnificent title and an awesome stretch), by Winston – Paramount Books, edited by B. Winston – Paramount .

https://walttriznastories.wordpress.com/

Soul-of-My Guitar – Promote Yourself

ladd

Sometimes, when you get the Blues
or The Nana of yours, she’s  jalouse
That, You feel lonely, to night
and in your inside, it tears

I harken to the Soul-of-my guitar,

I hugged that Old-companion, of mine
my Fillet-Mignion, my glass of wine
My-bread-and-butter, my Duchess
My guitar, my gitane, my muse,

Keep your laughter, and your tears,
and your sarcasm, please
if that’s ye amuse

we had, an _á peutprêt, this small talk
T’was two o’clock:am, I suppose

I said to her: “Longtime no-see”
She said: ” I was just  sitting there,
already set, with all my frets
Longing for your fingers,
on my neck to linger

I was all time, Resting on a chair,”
“Just gathering some dust
And you were, always  at a hast,”
You fled for a woman,and her hair
Now, you come back to me, heart-broken, at last

And for my hard strings always to press_
At seventeen, I know L’Amour, ç’a blesse

I’m longing for your caress
Can’t you see it?”
with some reproach in her voice
She said: can You believe it?
I said: ” Ain’t  got no choice”
“mais encore”, she said
“Strike the chords”

I said: “It doesn’t mean a  thing”
She said “Seise the thing, and let it go
Grate the string
just add a touch

some Sol La Si
And Say it low
the words will flow
And put some rhymes.

It works sometimes
Then you get the Blues,
And you’ll be at ease”
I said: “to-night.

” I have to write,
she  said:” it’s will be alright,
just get it right.”
“And you are done with that beautiful mess”

__At wee hour, I felt like having my soul, of a poet, and a troubadour,

_Kalimelo

BANK HOLIDAY

Bank holiday has come

We’re off to seaside

To have some fun,

 Let’s get sand in our shoes

Bucket and spades

Pick up the lemonade

 Sand castles are made,

The seafront is paved with

Fish and chips and candy floss,

Let’s spend our money

 in the penny slots,

Paddling pools and donkey rides

Bank holiday has come

 We had some holiday fun,

So on the bus and homeward bound

How many seashells have we found?

By Thomas Sims

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