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It's a fine sermon about fasting when the preacher just had lunch.

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Early In The Morning When The Sun Just Appears

Early in the morning
when the sun just appears over the hillocks,
when the guinea fowl call from the field,
then I see him
with his crooked walking stick chewing biltong
and the morning is dumb,
pure like an angel is his company;
before he disappears between the green maize stalks.

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There Are Times When The Sun Does Not Shine

who argues
about the rainy days
when the sun
does not shine
like a child hiding
on the skirt
of her mother

who disputes
lean times
and hungry days
when we simply
bite our tongue
swallow our saliva
and say we
just had lunch

when this happens
we can do nothing
we let all these times
come and then wait
when they finally leave

for like the sun that
does not shine today
tomorrow it may come
and shine again so brightly!

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The Lost Teddy

Once there was a little child who loved her teddy bear
She always has her teddy bear near her.
Her teddy bear keeps her happy when she’s asleep
The little child was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth
When a little fairy came in and took the little child’s teddy away
To a far away castle that no one knows about it
When the little child had finished doing her teeth, she notice her teddy was missing
She looked everywhere for the teddy
She was crying when she went to her mommy
The little fairy putted the little child’s teddy back on her bed
The little child went up to her bedroom thinking that her teddy was lost forever
But when she got to her bedroom, she saw her teddy lying at the end of the bed
She was so happy that she slept very well.

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When the Month of March Comes

When the month of March comes I am astounded
by the summer that is still lingering,
the sparkle, colour and fragrance of flower upon flower,
the fine splendour

of every cup that still opens for the sun,
birds that frisk about in the branches
with days keeping the intensity of summer
while I perceive the first signs of autumn

in the colours of leave upon leave
that starts to fall one by one
and summer is almost finished
while thunder still reports in the late afternoons

with rain pouring down
and one by one the days of summer are curtailed.

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When the dog barks

When the dog barks
Don’t crack, I remark
Watch your back
Maybe it is about to attack

A dog is commonly your loyal slave
But your master when it is brave
It can be your best friend
It can be your worst enemy

When the dog barks
Get ready on your mark
It senses you in the dark

When the dog barks
And you don’t talk back
It will sense the courage you lack

When the dog barks
You may need to give it a whack
To set it on the right track
Before it embarks
On a mission with its mates in a pack

When the dog bites
You must put up a fight

When the dog bites
Think hard, do what is right

When the dog whines
Even you should know its not fine

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

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I Often Wonder About This When I Am Solicited

It is difficult to remain objective...
When a solicitation comes.
It is difficult not to feel imposed upon...
When a rating is demanded,
From someone.

Does someone doing what they do,
From a love connection.
Desire to have it rated...
With a close inspection?
I often wonder about this when I am solicited.

It is difficult to remain objective...
When a a solicitation comes.
It is difficult not to feel imposed upon...
When a rating is demanded,
From someone.

And what is the ultimate purpose?
To feed an ego...
Or improve.
What if I should say I dislike what has been done?
What for that 'someone' will my comments prove?

That I don't know what I am talking about?
AND...
I am an eccentric fool?
I've been told that too many times.
That is why I refuse,
To respond to solicitations.

There is an honesty involved.
And I will protect mine too!

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Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone

Please don't talk about me when I'm gone
Honey, though our friendship ceases from now on
And if you can't say anything uptight
It's better not to talk at all, is my advice
We're parting, you'll go your way, I'll go mine
I have just this to do
Give a little kiss and hope that it brings
Lots of love to you
Makes no difference how Jerry carries on (but I'll make it, baby!)
Please don't talk about me when I'm gone
Please don't talk about me, honey, when I'm gone
Though our friendship ceases from now on
And if you can't say anything real nice
You better not talk at all, is Jerry's advice
We're parting, you'll go your way, I'll go mine
I have just this to do
Here's a little kiss, I hope it brings
Lots and lots of love to you
Makes no difference how I carry on
Please don't talk about me
Please don't talk about me
Please don't talk about me
Please don't talk about me
Please don't talk about me
Please don't talk about me, honey
Please don't talk about me when I'm gone

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Unriled Joy after James Whitcomb RILEY When the Frost is on the Punkin

Unriled Joy

When the current links computer screen to internet online,
when the 'Royal Crown' is fairly set upon fair features fine,
Then her sweetness sempiternal needs no coffee to invent
pure parody from paradise, no syllables misspent.
Far from ice and snow know Florida is haven of the Gods -
It even switched Obama which upset some Harris clods,
and all praise her peerless poems their true laurel leaves assign
When the current links computer screen to internet online.

4 January 2009

after When the Frost is on the Punkin James Whitcomb RILEY 1849_1916
and My Life of Riley Joy BURKI-WATSON 1950_20xx


When the Frost is on the Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here —
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock —
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries — kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below — the clover overhead! —
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Then your apples all is getherd, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse saussage, too! ...
I don't know how to tell it — but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on ME —
I'd want to 'commodate 'em — all the whole-indurin' flock —
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!


James Whitcomb RILEY 1849_1916

RILEY James Whitcomb 1849_1916 rile1_0004 PXX_NXX When the Frost is on the Punkin_When the Frost is on the Punkin

My Life of Riley

When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face,
I am adding cubes to coffee as I dream of breathing space.
‘Cause I know I’m in the tropics and its time to plan my day,
‘Fore the sun gets any hotter, with its radiant display.
There is somethin’ quite instinctive ‘bout the way I just accept
How my mind slips quick to thinkin’ ’bout that place that’s cool and wet.
Its a Southern sort-of posture that is met with Southern grace,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.

There’s a beach that’s surely waitin’ with white sand and standin’ seas,
Where the wind is surely playin’ in the arms of swayin’ trees.
So I’m packin’ up my cooler, with six-packs of Royal Crown
Stackin’ up the bread with fixins’, then I’m icin’ them all down.
Grab my beach bag from the table, where it parks right handily
Grab a towel, and grab some lotion - don’t forget the MP 3.
I can leave behind my troubles - send my frown to outer space,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.

There is somethin’ kinda steamy ‘bout the weather we have here,
Not exactly like a sauna - ‘cause its saltier than there.
All the orange trees seem to love it as do lemons and key limes,
And the many bloomin’ flowers - Spanish moss and clingin’ vines.
At the beach the coolin’ breezes tease my senses all day long,
While I sit ‘neath my umbrella with my too-cool Raybans on.
I can dream that I am sailin’, leave behind that old home place,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.

There’s no point in belly achin’ ‘bout the rain that’s overdue
I just wipe my brow and ponder all that Northern folks go through.
They’re shovelin’ snow and scrapin’ ice - and a’missin’ all this bliss
Where warmin’ winds kiss cooler seas, there is naught to find amiss.
I can think of nothin’ finer than the joy of surf and sand,
All my senses stand elated - sated by this promised land.
Florida the land of sunshine - holds me in its warm embrace,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.

http: //allpoetry.com/poem/4891765

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It is easy for someone to talk about fasting when he has a full belly.

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Matsuo Basho

When the winter chrysanthemums go

When the winter chrysanthemums go,
there's nothing to write about
but radishes.


Translated by Robert Hass

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When The Late Afternoon Begins To Fade

When the late afternoon begins to fade
then I do still think about you
as if you are right here,
then you are in my memories.
When the first stars appear,
when the light grows faint,
you are in my thoughts
as if we are embracing.

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When The Last Petal Falls

the cloud turns pale
when the last petal falls
the sun signed out
darkness becomes a blanket
to bury
the dead
scarlet then gray

the wind from the sea
sings the song of the conch

my ear hears the saddest song
about another love
unrequited

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There's something sexual about a yawn.

It climaxes and goes nowhere
but into the thin air.

And I think the air keeps it,
and remembers it
when we don't.

Like the time I went driving
nowhere in a car
and didn't quite think,
until this week, about it.

When the car was gone,
and the ride-over.

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Every Morning When The Day Begins

Every morning when the day begins
the sun rises beautifully red,
but at first I see the twilight
when the sun throws out its first rays gloriously.

Every morning I want to unburden my heart to You,
and I am asking that You make me aware
about the way that my life is going,
to help me make time and place for You in it.

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When The Day Is Over

when the day is over
you walk your way towards home
and keep the silence
about what happened

your lips, and they say, they cannot help themselves,
shall try to mumble and move like a wounded man
asking for help, yet, you keep the promise to yourself

be gentle, and be so careful
let your silence reign
let there be no talking pain.

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James Joyce

When the Shy Star Goes Forth in Heaven

When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.

O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling.
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant,
'Tis I that am your visitant.

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When the Eyes Stay Fixed Upon It

Those sick in health,
And always with something negative to say,
About someone else...
Reflect the condition of their environment.
And represent others heard venting their views,
While focused on what people do, who they 'think' they are...
With a competing done in discussion about their ailments.

Is this a cynical comment?
No it is not.
This is a portrait depicting the consciousness,
Of a sleeping people.
Observed as is.
Although...it does seem to have animation,
When the eyes stay fixed upon it.

'You are right.
It does.
I wonder how that was done? '

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When The Sun Was Throwing Its Last Rays On The Earth

When the sun was throwing its last rays on the earth,
your hand found mine at twilight,
the evening sky was suddenly smudged by blood

while the evening-wind was softly scattering sand,
while people hurried home from their jobs
and something in your glance had drawn me closer to you

and when suddenly lightning bolts were falling
we found shelter
against thunderbolts sounding ominous,
against the wild stormy wind

we stood for long moments in each other’s arms
while the rain were pattering down, while the storm quieted down
with the clouds suddenly drawing open
and the moon’s rays falling magically about us.

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Afternoon View When The Office Is About To Close

from my window
you must have probably heard me about saying the same thing all over again
but i will say it again

the sea is very calm like a sky blue silk spread on the floor
the horizon is pale white like the color of shyness

at a distance there is a boat
the man just spread the fish net

a tiny bird hops from one dry twig to another
another leaf on the other branch falls because it is bound to fall

yellow leaves, those dead ones
caught by the fingers of the grasses below

and then the sound of sirens comes
it is now time to go

now my heart sings with joy
for another night perhaps with the stars high on the roof of my house
in my solitude.

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When the Day Is White

When the day is white
Full of clouds from above
Just new from old night
With its dream full of
And your heart is young
Filled with thoughts so free
In and easy going song
That without end shall be

A love song so fine
Full of its finesses air
Drifting through sunshine
From here to everywhere
I feel you are so close
In my heartbeat you'll stay
Until everything away goes
That you and I knew today

When day becomes eve
And the white sky to red
When our day thoughts leave
And night is here instead
When we go on sleeping
And travel so far beyond
Where angels' stars are keeping
Until it becomes dawned

*(A lyric made now to my song, When the Day Is White, at Garageband.com)

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