Wednesday, July 03, 2019

Poem for her 821

Dear Readers,


That day


There was a summer party going on
I didn't go to the beach much
She spied me from afar ages ago
There I'd be standing just doing
There she'd walk by and look
Then one day in the summer
I said Hi
We chatted while near by
Then off she'd fly
Then one day I wrote her a poem
There were some more conversations
And time passed by
Things talked about
Then one day she said
Happy Birthday in a song style
There as a phone call
Then some sparks flew
Then more
On that day in a parking lot
Kisses her as we dance
Telling her poems with my fingers
All over her again and again

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Sunday, June 30, 2019

Poem for her 820

Dear Readers,


The deck

The deck outside has a table
Several chairs and a swing
The table has a vase of fresh cut flowers
Then there is the decks
Several kinds
Cards
Cards for writing
Cards for playing
Cards to attach to flowers
The card decks might get used more
They are today
We have been playing a while
First a game we invented
Then another game we invented
Yet a 3rd game we invented
We have to score each one different
One gets us high numbers
One low numbers
The another no numbers
The deck has a deck on it
A little model
One of the deck before it was
It is on a shelf made of glass
There next to the window
Looking out onto the deck
By our hands
Of cards

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Poem for her 819

Dear Readers,


Supper


That meal that comes after breakfast
With a pause for travel
Or a stay at brunch
Or maybe no lunch
Just before cardtime snacks
Or just before bedtime crackers
Or maybe it's just a name of a meal
We rarely eat

Super to have you here dear
As I pull out your chair
The plate is empty
The setting bare
Then that smile
The kiss
Meal is served

The days grow warm and food heavy
So supper might not be
Lunch the last meal
The one we eat the heaviest at
Even though it's light food
Supper is just a clock setting
Never used for plated foods
Just a long kiss
Before cards
Or some sip of wine
And a long kiss

Supper could be that long kiss
Just you and me
Long into the evening mist

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Poem for her 818

Dear Readers,


Picnic benches


There was that one in the park
There was the one by the river
The one in the back yard in town
There by the trees by the cabin is another
We need a lot of them
For picnics

There is that basket we have had a while
There are the ones from the shops
They stay stocked of some things
While others tool in and out

Over by the bench where the ants live
There is a sign
Ants have names
Call them when dropping food

Over by the trees the benches have names too
There painted on them
There are several more benches than table space
We change the benches by the trip
Green furry and his cousin yellow green
Names funny and names by color
There in the city just green and blue
Or did we name red too

To many benches to count these days
Just picnic and mark the calendar for next time
3 days hence on the rainy day of the week
Just yonder there under the eaves
Picnic there


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Saturday, June 01, 2019

Poem for her 817

Dear Readers,


The flue bricks

The stack was 10 feet high
The trucks had taken several of travel
The cabin was really out in the sticks
That one driver was amazed at why
The other ones were too
Though they knew the man
From way back in the day
When he'd had other jobs
Today the kiln was being made
They mention swords
Or was it bells of swords
The master gardeners in town laughed
The girls in Miss sue's crafting class
Laughed as well
They were making something
The couple were old as rocks
Other's claimed no not quite
Just barely younger though
Jack laughed
He'd known them since he was a kid
Next week
He'd turn 80
They were always
And forever
Hand in hand
laughing
joking
something
Just there
being a part of the buildings
The going's on
And
Soul of soul
Old


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Thursday, May 30, 2019

Part Three

Dear Readers,


Logan looked out at the crowd at the UN there were over 150,000 there that day when His speech would be spoken in so many languages that he'd have to count them again to fathom them all.

Today his real other name was going to be used. Joey. Right hand man to Mr Penney. The nations of the world and the other solar systems and planets all in the confederation had all sent a representative to this gathering over 134 systems strong. He was amazed at the turn out. Never had he seen this many races, colors, creeds or things. Even a rep from Collin7 was there a small female only 5 feet tall, yet with 100's of tentacles waving and talking to the other creatures around her.

Logan woke from his day dream and got back to work his shift had just started. Later that evening he'd look back over the feeds and listen to what his words had done to the crowd.

He hoped the far away Mr Penney he knew would be proud.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>...


Thus ends part 3 of the story that Logan aka Joey has, the first 2 parts hand written by me were given to him this morning.


May you all have the Peace of Christ.


Charles.




Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Poem for her 816

Dear Readers,


The reflections


The napkins were stacked neat
I had pen in hands
Three pens and 2 pencils and
She was sitting there
All poems lost meaning
All my words faded
All my sight filled with


Her


Happy Birthday Babe


Charles.