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  • bob

    The Violin

    By bob

    illustrated by Robert g. Jerore   The Violin     It was an average size theater, capable of seating two hundred persons. Tonight it was filled to capacity. The variety of entertainment presented during this evenings program was very enjoyable. There had been two vocal solos; a small singing group; an orchestral presentation; twin pianos duet, and a flautist. The twenty minute intermission which allowed a comfort break was over, and the second half of the evenings program was near
  • David W. Parsley

    Lothlorien Poetry Journal - The Bridge at Tsavo, 1898

    By David W. Parsley

    Continuing to follow in Phil's footsteps.  Longtime readers on PMO will recognize this one, but check out the illustrations chosen by the editors to accompany it. Lothlorien Poetry Journal: One Poem by David Parsley And of course it can also be found here with all the scintillating commentary and discussion by PMO members.  An entry for the languishing Notes from the Common Era.  - Dave

Our community blogs

  1. badger11
    Latest Entry

    By badger11,

    I have a couple of poems appearing in Dreich mag


    All the best


  2. daviddonihue
    Latest Entry

    By daviddonihue,

    This astoundingly cool performance by Ashphord Jackoway must not be missed in the official poetry video for The Poetry Verse.


    By David N. Donihue


    There’s not a person alive 

    proud of every word

    Not a person alive

    With a past pitch perfect

    A stainless soul lying undisturbed


    Not a person alive

    Who has what they need

    As needs are in the mind

    With imagination, a rabbit hole unending


    And there’s not a person alive

    Satisfied with their shell

    And there’s not a person alive

    Who has not uttered life is hell


    And there’s not a person alive

    When free from shame or worry

    That would bother inflicting misery

    Takes the former, for pain to keep on feeding


    And there’s not a person alive

    Without prejudice

    No matter who you are,

    Someone's demeanor 

    could trigger your shit


    And there’s not a person alive

    Who’s never felt debt, 

    never felt useless, 

    never felt like a prick


    And there’s not a person alive 

    Who has not failed many

    Yet to experience true life,

    Is to love endlessly


    Praise the heavens for the day and night

    Until gratefulness becomes greatness


    And you’re giving the globe 

    your absolute everything


    And there’s not a person alive

    that doesn’t deserve love

    Doesn’t deserve redemption

    the chance to rise above


    And there’s not a person alive

    Who is not addicted to something

    Whether positive or negative

    Our routines keep moving


    And there’s not a person alive

    Who should have never lived

    Yet if they’d chosen forgiveness

    Then maybe the spiral of sickness

    Would no longer exist


    And there’s not a person alive

    Like you in the morning

    Whimsical smile though weary lids opening


    And there’s not a person alive 

    Like you when you’re you

    Pointless insecurities thrown aside

    So the truth may shine through


    And there’s a person alive

    Like you

    There’s not a person alive

    Like you



    © copyright David Donihue 2023

  3. Before I wrote poetry I danced. I told stories with my hands.  You might say as a poet I still tell stories with my hands as they float across the keyboard.  I was recently prompted to write a blog about what kind of music made me want to get up and dance.  Here is my response.


    Time has flown since
    humuhumunukunukuapuaha’a *
    swam from my fingertips
    as I danced
    the tales I was taught.
    These same hands
    built a business,
    showed horses how to trust
    and the babe
    in my arms how to love.

    Now spotted with age,
    my fingers float
    across a keyboard
    placing phrases on a page
    to tell my stories.
                    ~Judi Van Gorder

    I dance to the music in my soul. If it has a beat, I can move to it. I have been a dancer all of my life.

    My Mom said I danced before I could walk. By the age of 5 she put me in tap lessons, very popular in the 40s. I graduated to jazz and at the age of 7, the dance school offered a class in hula taught by a Hawaiian instructor. My Mom thought it would teach me grace and enrolled me, There were only 4 girls in our class, I was the youngest. Throughout my teens our little quartet toured with a troupe, dancing the hula and some Tahitian numbers. We were very popular and got pretty good.

    Many years later when I first opened my insurance agency, an older woman came into my office for insurance. She had just moved to California from Hawaii. When I asked her occupation she said "hula dancer". And of course, I responded, "I can hula". She shook her head and politely laughed at the blonde houli on the other side of the desk and nicely told me that to be a good hula dancer you need to begin training at a young age. At that, I stood, slipped off my heels, walked around the side of the desk and went into a vamp. She could only respond, "You can hula!". Yes, I can.

    A few years later while visiting the Island of Maui as a Soroptimist regional board member for an International Leadership Conference, other board members and myself were out for an evening and stopped at a nice bar for a drink after dinner. There were some locals at the bar, playing ukuleles and guitars and a woman from their group got up and began to hula. It happened to be a song I knew from when I was a kid so I took off my shoes and joined her. The local Hawaiians were delighted that I knew the dance and moved like a native. They wanted more and the woman and I obliged. My fellow board members were in awe and wanted to learn. Of course, I had to shake my head, politely laugh and nicely told them that to be a good hula dancer you need to begin training at a young age. *Wink*

    I may be old now, but my body knows how to move with grace and rhythm. I can still do the hula. I love to dance and don't need much encouragement to do so.

    graceful hands
    tell a story while hips sway
    in rhythm

    * Hawaii’s state fish shown through the hands of the hula dancer by extending the left hand, palm down and placing the right hand on top with thumbs protruding on each side. The hands then undulate while the thumbs rotate. “when the humuhumunukunukuapua’a come swimming by”  ♬

    Keep Writing!

    ~~Judi aka Tinker

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