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  1. Yesterday
  2. Tinker

    My Buddha Drinks Whiskey

    Hi DC, I think is now my new favorite of yours. ~~Tink
  3. Tinker

    she wolf

    Hi Barry, This is quite moving, I had no problem embracing this piece. The images clear, "watchtower carved out of my frozen tears" WOW! ~~Tink
  4. eclipse

    My Buddha Drinks Whiskey

    Great work....thought provoking..
  5. eclipse

    Ode to Oats

    Lovely ode...I eat porridge every morning...
  6. Tinker

    Ode to Oats

    Haha Marti, You made me laugh. i have to admit my food choices do run to the organic, healthy side of the spectrum. We have fresh, organic produce year round in abundance here in Cali. Plus my own organic garden supplies me with plenty during the season. But we too have the Mexican influence and cornmeal with cheddar and jalapeños sound pretty good to me too. Although it wouldn’t make a regular diet of it. ~~Tink
  7. Tinker

    Ode to Oats

    Thanks Badge, my brother and husband add a liberal dose of sugar to their oatmeal which i avoid. But i do like just a few raisins for that touch of sweet and tart to spike up the bland flavor of the oats. ~~Tink
  8. dr_con

    Kingston

    Indeed. I agree with all of the above. Great opening line -- A crystal clear (To my mind) image, a certain submission too rather than resistance of fate -- What am I trying to say? Their is a bitterness but the same bitterness one learns to enjoy in scotch or a good hoppy beer - the response of a connoisseur rather than a victim - I was going to debate the Bukowski comparison, but with that insight, I completely agree with Barry. Juris
  9. dcmarti1

    My Buddha Drinks Whiskey

    "The dharma of trusting aStranger" You make us think too much. In a GOOD way.
  10. dcmarti1

    Ode to Oats

    Aww, you west coast lefties. Gimme cornmeal mush with cheddar cheese and diced jalapenos. 🙂
  11. dr_con

    My Buddha Drinks Whiskey

    My Buddha Drinks Whiskey My Buddha was never a God only a human who drank whiskey to excess and neverever had a stable relationship He couldn’t practice what he preached and always stared past his navel to his clay covered boots thinking the deep thoughts left when smoking unfiltered cigarettes He’s a part time hustler full time trickster with a brutal compassion for his fellow Bodhisattvas saying softspoken and slow ‘That’s what you get’ The dharma of trusting a Stranger lost fantastiques are filled with warnings Big and sometimes Small These regrets lead to pearls of great value and some to nothing Nothing at all Which to a God Is worth even more than anything Anything at all My Buddha blows smoke In your face makes it hard real hard to get close he’s been known to throw shoes when losing at pool and mess with his words so their forms lose their meanings Off putting And jagged when losing at love But when you put your Head Near his basket and look really Look at the empty small bottles the half burnt incense Cigarettes browned by booze a few pieces of gum for when he doesn’t feel like smoking an 8 ball (not magic) assortments of coins some local some placeholders for tales of travels And ask sincerely Why you gotta be that way? He’ll let you know in his sure Way ‘ Well I never was a God just human Like the original Sam just reminding like an unexpected delay if it’s good enough for the Gods it's gotta be good enough for You.’
  12. dcmarti1

    Sitting Under My Flowering Pear

    Imagery, alliteration, personification. Like the old commercial said, "Good stuff, Maynard!" 🙂
  13. Sitting Under My Flowering Pear The gilded banter quickens with each gust of wind. Speaking all at the same time, the chatter of restless leaves rises and falls riding the wings of the zephyr while scents of sage, apple, and honeysuckle hitch on board. The glitter of the golden sun peeks through the lacy canopy to eavesdrop. ~~ Judi Van Gorder
  14. Last week
  15. Tinker

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Write an Etheree Dawning Day begins in silence. I feel a nudge and open my eyes to see my Molly's face, her kitty nose to my nose. A sweet awakening with love and gentle persuasive intention. The dawning of another enterprise. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼ A Morning Poem
  16. Tinker

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Prompt: Confinement Verse form: Sonnet Trapped Confined within the hemisphere dispensed A stroke while forming in her mother's womb. A damaged global center, commander's room to signal body parts to function hence. The intellect and empathy are held within its mass to compliment her life Her brain was halved as if cut by a knife. The living side stepped up and excelled. Born paralyzed, her right side a dead fish, unknowns, her speech, her thoughts and so much more. Yet her stubborn courage deigned to score, she fell and failed and tried again. Her wish to walk and talk and be like other kids made real, her body does as she bids. ~~Judi Van Gorder Bowlesian Sonnet
  17. eclipse

    she wolf

    I dreamt of being a she wolf sleeping with one eye open in a forest-in the distance i could see my human self in a watchtower carved out of my frozen tears.Laid in hospital attached to a drip cancer undresses feminist consciousness the moon howls and the sun hollas as I catheterize it to fill me with fire. The only thing now scene from the watchtower is a forest of burning trees.
  18. Tinker

    Stretching It Out

    Thank you David. I am reminded almost daily of this poem as I continue to reclaim my yard after all too many years of neglect while I nursed my husband and myself through some medical hiccups. It strains the body but feels so good to work outside again. I just brought in the most beautiful bouquet of roses from my garden, plus fresh lettuce, cucumbers and the juiciest plums and nectarines. I can't wait to harvest the rest of my veggies and fruits. All in good time. I love watching things grow. ~~Tink
  19. David W. Parsley

    Community Gardening At St.Peter's

    Oh, this subversive lady who cultivates weeds as well as flower and pea! Sounds like she "shoplift"ed another flower on this day, probably someone with prior attachments like a spouse and family. As with most folks, she does not realize her stings are mostly earned, and richly. The revision is tight. My only suggestion is to revisit the second use of "stranger" so close to its initial use, seems particularly disturbing in a poem of such lean narration. Cheers, - Dave
  20. David W. Parsley

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Tony, I must have accessed the Workshop while I was still logged in but didn't realize it. Thanks for your kind words! It is good to be back in the company of PMO poet friends on a more sustained basis. This place is great because of your thoughtfulness and integrity in resisting advertisers and other unwelcome visitors, and because of the inimitable membership. - Dave
  21. tonyv

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Well, it certainly is a concern for anyone who happens to care, and that includes you. Most of us stay logged in all the time, so we don't notice how some of our forums are inaccessible to random, often unwelcome visitors. Always excited to see you, Tony
  22. David W. Parsley

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Uhm, gee, what a marvelous idea I had! (Blush) Thanks for thinking it through, in advance, Tony. I am posting something today!! - Dave
  23. David W. Parsley

    Kingston

    Thanks, that helps alleviate lingering concerns (despite your protests ;-). Buddy, I gotta say, you really pulled off a prize winning uppercut on a few of us here. I'm getting up off the floor now, but this poem will stick with me for a while. Well Done! - Dave
  24. tonyv

    Kingston

    Thank you Dave, very much, for your thoughtful observations and remarks. I agree with this, @eclipse! It was like the dopamine high one might get after getting a LIKE on Instagram! 😄 Kingston is just a small town about thirty minutes by car from the town where I grew up. I remember heading there on Friday or Saturday nights back in the mid/late '80s when I had just gotten my driver's license and a new big shopping mall had been built there. It had a great food court, and of course, a movie theater. I might have gone on some dates there during that era. 😎 Thus, it was just a thought back to some happy times growing up. 😎 As for Hürth, there's no connection. It happens to be a town in the vicinity of Cologne, Germany which I happened to look up online for some extraneous reason. I was in Google image and found one that appealed me for some reason. Thanks again ... I don't mind elaborating at all! Tony Picture I found in Google Image search for Hürth/Cologne, Germany. It's in my folder of images that have some meaning for me, that perhaps inspire me in various ways:
  25. David W. Parsley

    Sapper

    I just keep coming back to this poem, whether I am on the site or not. It haunts me. I can't help seeing the sapper with his poppies and his ghosts, feel down from the arms and hands through the spade probing that underspoken undertow with all its peril and hope for catharsis. I don't have one yet, but this will surely result in a responding poem(s) of my own. - Dave
  26. David W. Parsley

    Eulogy for a falcon

    Hi Barry, I responded to this poem in much the same way as Tony and Tinker. Until the final three lines. I wondered why the poem lost energy for me at that point, so I went away and came back to re-read. The main problem for me is the tell-vs.-show word, "grieving" and the always-sapping word "eventually." Then, too, the use of "a" seems faux-oblique to my way of hearing the narrative. And "complete" is too neat, lacking in subtly. Really, it may be just that third-to-last line that creates problems for this reader. The whole piece prospers in a shower of startling imagery and diction that somehow communicate a fantasy tale that the reader knows is somehow about real things that happen to or near us in the tangible world, the ultimate calling of surrealist art. The narrative and images connect to your other works without repeating those images and themes. A most refreshing effort and pleasing to this reader's ear and mind. I am also grateful for the touches of craftsmanship, bringing the work to your friends at PMO only after purging misspellings and grammar errors. And while I am taking time to be grateful, I want to thank you for the added bits of insight into your recent commentary on works by other poets here. It is appreciated more than you know! Thank You, - Dave
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