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FISH STORY, A Whopper of a Tale
Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) ~ OR ~~ ~ Or ~~ ~ OR ~~ ~~India EveryDay: FISH STORY, A Whopper of a Tale I imagine that I must have surprised you, What with your waiting game, your sport. You exhausted me with your angler's skill. You had me hooked, long on the line, It was the lure, you; I swallowed you whole. I had not seen the great barb nestled in the fly; Your beauty, I had become prey to it. You must have realized, you must have known, How beautiful you seemed to me, How you dazzled, your shimmer, it fooled me, And I ate you right to the lead sinker. I was your catch. I believed every thing you said. Who might have divined it? Given the great tensile strength of your nylon-reel wire, Hard to phantom that I could break it; But I took a deep dive toward bottom, Then I broke surface with a five-foot leap above water. A loud snap announced how taut had grown the tension. All at once boat and bait had lost all connection. Who would have envisioned it? I swim with that hook still puncturing my mouth. Your fisherman's string, its segment, It still runs along side me for at least a yard. My injury, it hurt me, and I shall have to bear Its scar, the remnants of this encounter for life. Yet I have set myself at liberty, yes, Free to travel world's grand and open ocean seas. And may I ask, again, take a moment, please, consider, Who would ever believe my, this fish story! But it is true; I broke the line. I have broken from you.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 26 February 2013
Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) ~ OR ~~ ~ Or ~~ OR ~~ ~~India EveryDay: WINTER LOVE MELANCHOLY The seabirds cry at the harbor, And in the distance a fog horn, It, too, sounds a plaintive note; All refrains freight my melancholy, Repeatedly reminding me of my sorrow. There is a damp, hard, winter wind. It beats on me, causes a dire chill. My jacket seems too thin. No matter how hard I pull down upon it, My stocking cap falls short of cover for my ears. The nights remain very long; I find no comfort in the memory -- Once a summer sun had warmed the day. And now another woe besets me, I dread that I might never kiss you again!

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 20 February 2013
THE WORD, A Lover's Exhortation
WORDS HERE (Show More Cursor Button) ~ OR ~~ ~ Or ~~ OR ~~ ~~India EveryDay: THE WORD, A Lover's Exhortation Well! What do you say, honey? I believe that I say it right. It is God alone Who knows The one dimensionality -- the real tragedy -- The empty when we call upon the soul. Only He can quell the hunger, quench the thirst. But, sweetheart, hey! I tell you now. Forget it! Fly straight! Think of the Frick with its fabulous El Greco, Small though that one painting is, it amply captures the fury, When Jesus castigates the money changers. The Word is clear. No man may serve two masters. God loves the prisoner, the downcast, the lame. He loves the lilies of the field. Grass need not care how it clothes itself. Though great it may be to be King, what profit in it, When the first shall be last and those with least, Most, and beggars shall inherit the earth, And children be fountains of wisdom? We have seen the sorry example, what terrible precept! Celebrated priests and magistrates have not known the Lord, Yet once He had stood right there before them.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 10 February 2013
WORDS HERE (Show More Cursor Button) ~ OR ~~ ~ Or ~~ OR ~~ ~~India EveryDay: FOR YOU, ETTA How the couch swells, then sinks, As if its cushions meaningfully form to bring your body Still closer to mine. Twelve years float through our conversation. Stray notes air from the web radio, Now and then punctuating our sentences. Why ask about our history? What vanity possesses you to make sense of the world, And try to figure God's will? We met, we loved, what time before, Is it dejavu, do we relive a previous encounter? And that place where I first saw you? Are we able to return to it, And gain another chance to do life over? Or have we hope to live hereafter? Shall we be rejoined, And hand-in-hand walk the night Forever young and through those fields On the other side of the river? The streaming-music no longer plays. You lie before me and seem no more tangible Than a thought, a dream within a dream, Emerging within an instant then vanishing without a trace. I just hold on, and try to grasp you. I hear the whisper of your breath, its sound, Though all the other voices cease, your voice remains.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 10 February 2013
WORDS HERE (Show More Cursor Button) ~ OR ~~ ~ Or ~~ OR ~~ ~~ India EveryDay: A POEM AFTER RUMI I see the light coming out from your eyes. What sacred wonder illuminates your face?. Wish I had nothing else to do, But to spend the hours adoring you.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 02 February 2013
WORDS HERE (Down Cursor Button) ~~ OR ~~ ~~ OR ~~ ~~ India EveryDay: SMITTEN Six years have passed, Since we first had met. Yet it's only during recent days That I've learned -- I love you. Surely we have so much of life to share. And now how the excitement mounts! I no longer need await the Spring To bring back steady warmth For love heats the place No matter the cold outside.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 01 February 2013
WORDS HERE (Show more ) ~~ OR ~~ ~~ OR ~~ ~~ ~~ India EveryDay: CATULLUS POEM 5, An Original Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem I am here to repeat ancient wisdom: What do we care what the joyless say? They should get lost, all of them! Sun may set then rise again. Yet once our tiny, brief light is pinched out, We have night, an everlasting night, Nevermore our life under bright blue heaven, So let's kiss, and let's kiss again.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 24 January 2013
WORDS HERE (Show more ) ~~ OR ~~ ~~ OR ~~ ~~ India EveryDay: PASSION PLAY Yeeaaaaaaaoooowwwww! I seek. I crave the whiff, your body scent, Your fragrance, I remember, it's as though, You're in my arms right here at home today. My resolve, it weakens, I want you back. I'm lonely, turn the covers, Find only empty bed and heart ache, The awful pain of my regret. Sadness fouls my face. Oh, how I hate the resolve, Never to see you, again, Have nothing more to do with you, No matter how long the length of my days, I swear to it and mean it! Yet I want you. Wish to see you, once more, Your form behind the shower curtain, Ghost figure in the steam, The water running full throttle, the heat, The great comfort, I close my eyes, I fall to vision; it's incredible, beyond belief, How do I describe glory that had come and gone. I fail in my recount, you, you, my darling, And in this, my own confusion I reduce myself to greeting-card sentiment, I have come to believe you were heaven sent. Can't you see I'm at your feet! I wish to witness your getting dressed, You, in the morning naked in our bedroom, and Naked in the room whose door opens Opposite to the foot of our bed, Hurrying to get on with the day, And then the other part, morning, noon, Or night, when you are in our bed, And I hold you open to savor over and over again. I want to see your smile, and utterly to embrace you. Were I to steal -- now and forever -- all your pain away! I would be finished with you, I want you out, But you, devil, trickster, you and your incantations, You practice arts you learned when young, When you and your mother spent all that time, Back and forth on boat going to the Bahamas, You use high-tech, gigabyte millions, You work a black magic, Have you command of infectious virus? The computer's screen beckons me, keeps me awake. Believe me. I tell you true.. I hear your voice, your whispers, Behind the sounds, behind the hum of the circuitry, Witch! You sit among the cords and the monitor lights, You befoul my every electronic connection. Then there are the notes. I have mail. You use email posts. Sometimes you tell of your day, the pleasantries, What you made for dinner, Or how your plants fare in your new garden. Occasionally you include incidentals about your business, About your family and friends, your recent travels. Your chief concern you, how you feel, Hoping to fill, to close up the empty between us, I am compelled to read, Though the letters do not include me, Of course, not word, nothing, Nothing about how things might be going for me. Why do I care, why even open your communications? Hapless, I look to figure how I might fit within your plans,. Hope somehow that you might write something personal to me. Perhaps how you wish that I were there with you at home. Maybe you might say that you miss our intimacies, Or claim that you would love to hear my voice. I search out your script, find no satisfaction. I try, and I try to extract some tiny comfort between the lines Instead the wound reopens, my cut festers, The pain surrounding the punctured, the hot. The ripped and torn, the awful marks of the lash, There has not been time enough, Will ever there be time enough, My flesh, properly, to heal? And forgive me the blasphemy, forgive! Lord have mercy, save me! I am reminded of Jesus after the beating, When the Roman soldiers, who had torn off the purple, Returned Him again to everyday garment, Then at Golgotha where they stripped Him, Before they nailed Him to the cross, Yea, they stripped him, once more, The pain of those wounds, opened and reopened, Inflicted, over and over, oh the burn, every time, Every time you write me, and I hear from you again.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 15 January 2013
WORDS HERE (Down Cursor Button) ~~ OR ~~ ~~ OR ~~ CHICAGO THEME Hey! She can't do this to me! I'm an American! I was born and raised in Illinois. History taught me about Lincoln's Volunteers, They were the ones who burned Old Dixie down. I'm the Pepsodent kid, I have hung out on the skin of my teeth. My uncle was a dog catcher. From him, I learned to capture animals in heat. Where I come from -- there is no foolin' around. Where does she get the nerve? She leaves me home alone for months on end. I've known speeds, man, faster than Flash Gordon, I can fly from planet to planet, Find and live amongst a whole new breed, What do I need her for? Got to be kidding! I mean... she can't do this to me! I have studied how the West was won.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 13 January 2013
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ ~ DENAIN You were born a Catholic and God cherished you. But your having forgotten His Mercy -- That all outcome of human endeavor, His Will, not your own -- angered the Almighty. He delivered you into the hands of the Heretics. You suffered at Hochstedt and at Ramilles. Yet when you returned to the Lord, Thanking Him for all that He visits upon you, The Lord saw your gratitude, And knew that you had been restored to wisdom. He blessed your courage at Denain.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 13 January 2013
SOUR GRAPES, An Original Love Poem after the Verse of Catullus
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ ~ SOUR GRAPES, An Original Love Poem after the Verse of Catullus Understand, I always liked that guy, Herb. Let's just say, I was fond of him. I respected him as a colleague. Yet now, it is decades later; My once good feelings for him have nosedived. Of course, I was attracted to you, Hey, your allure, it tempted me! The way you stood, it complemented your height, Made you demure, such poise, left knee bent forward, You tilted your shoulders from the waist a bit to the right. And that smile of yours, allow me to say it, You were gorgeous, and I always favored a brunet. Not to forget your intelligence, hands down, You, why you were the smartest woman I had ever met! Nonetheless, propriety required I not make a move. I was Herb's friend, How would you expect me to behave? And you must recall. You do remember, don't you, That I had been otherwise engaged! Let's just say, I was a very busy man. You might not have realized my busyness's full extent; Facts are, I had been occupied on too many fronts. I know. I know. I missed the bus. The train had left the station. I had my chance. Passed on what very well might have been, What fairness, or hope of just measure might we expect, I lament when think about it, the splendid opportunity, Allowed so much to go by, life and happiness, years of it! Let's get it straight. The facts are the facts. It had not been my fault, I swear! It was that Herb, he had blocked my way, He puffed himself up and proudly took the stance, Made it clear that for all intent and purpose you were his. I do not really care for the fellow anymore, Even the thought of him bothers me. I do not like repeating his name, Yet now it amounts -- how the years progress -- It amounts to more than forty years later! I want it known, the world to know, Now and forever, my regret, That I had missed, Oh the wonderful chance to have experienced, Love and time with you, please, Understand! Do not blame me!, I swear to it! He stood in my way. Though once a friend, I do not really care for that guy anymore, no, Not a bit. The thought of him gets my stomach sick. I do not even wish to repeat his name.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 10 January 2013
RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO, A Poem About Friendship
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ ~ RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO, A Poem about Friendship Respond to this video. Tell me, dear audience, Tell me what to consider, Or tell me what you may believe. How do I handle it? Is there a way? I can not be friends with her; She is no friend to me. Tell me what to do. It's not that she's bad, Or evil beyond belief; Yet she has broken her every promise, No regard for holy vow, And the real truth behind her lies, And herein some sympathy is required, She has a hard time dealing, Living in the everyday world. She does not feel much in common, Feels she has little to do with all the other girls, Who have a fit in the regular world. Tell me, dear audience, Tell me what to do! My heart's been rendered, Seems as though split in two, Torn along the lines, A perpetual refrain: Nothing to win, and Nothing left to lose. "Oh, you're such a pretty girl, Why are you so skinny?" That's what the ladies ask, When she is just standing there, Standing at a stop waiting for the bus. Let me tell you what she said, I tell you, dear audience, What she once revealed to me, She said that she's always starving. Now I know how she got so worn away. I have seen her get thinner, Thinner by the day. She can not finish her dinner. She imagines cottage cheese; Sees it form on the back of her legs. Let me whisper a secret. Maybe it will elicit a comment or two. The first appliance I bought for the house. It was a white, electronic scale. She will not step on the scale. Claims I take the wrong approach. Her bleeding, it stopped some time ago, But no problem here, when there's the pill, Tweak the hormone and, anyway, What's so important? Why the big deal? Really, I can hear her say it, As if she were present, Right before me and talking into my face. She would be all pretend and diffident, Yet with the skinny sarcasm in her voice. Oh that is she, little miss perfect! "Come on! I get it; "Don't go worrin' your head. "Relax, no problem! "My blood, it's flowing! "I've got a show right now." Respond to this video. Tell me, dear audience, Tell me what you think, Or tell me what you believe. I can't be friends with her. She can not be a friend to me. She's no friend to anyone; She's no friend even to herself. Nothing for me, Nothing to win and Nothing left to lose. It's so awful, very weird, Still I hear me say it. I know she still loves me, Yet how can she love me When she doesn't love herself. Will she ever live without worry, Might she ever be carefree again? Can it be she's really dying? Dear God, I am glad that I can not know... I can not know the truth. She jogs for miles, Goes to the gym every other day, Claims the thing -- she has it, One day she told me, "Down, cold, and under-control!" My heart is broken, All I can do is pray. She's runnin', she is running away from me. I can't be friends with her, She can not be a friend. She's no friend to anyone, She can not find love for herself. What else can I do? What am I missing? I've never doubted her beauty! Please, tell me, tell me. Merciful Heaven! Is there any thing, Tell me if there is some thing, Any thing that I might do?

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 01 January 2013
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ ~ SUGAREE Yes, Darling, Yes! That's how it went, How I saw it back in the day. I stood up before the stage at the Fillmore East, And the girls in the crowd, they were dancing, And those up front, next to and behind the band, They were sashaying, and Jerry, He was up there playing, it was as if, Apollo had handed him the lyre. Phil ran the bass. Mercy! He carried us far. Hitting those four wires, tight, Landing atop the frets, fingers enchanting, abracadabra, A bewitching up and down the instrument's neck. And I saw two drummers, and the other guitarist. Out the corner of my eye, I caught it, The whole rhythm section was a purple gang. Pig Pen keyed the B52, and with that organ sounding, Yeah! We might as well have been in church. And though inside, we were within the concert hall, It felt -- I wondered, could it be -- had we been caught, All of us seemed standing in the pouring rain. How else? I know no other way to say it. Against a back wall, a shape shift of kaleidoscopic liquid light, Suddenly two pulsing blobs of psychedelic dazzle morphed. Now we have South Sea romance upon the screen, Then the black and white of yesteryear's cartoon matinee. I saw Betty Boop, I swear it. She was dancing, A lay of white flowers swayed along her breasts. Dressed in a grass skirt, she posed Hawaiian. I was happy for the wink she gave me. There were other women, too, On the beach, barefoot, their hands beckoning. Their wrists looked to be doing some kind of talking. And their hips, bedecked in Betty's grass attire, Played to the rhythms, pretended they danced the hula. Waving motions invited me closer. Heaven, was I in heaven? My heart beating fast, I could no longer think, I seemed to find all the happiness a man could seek, And we turned to one another, and smiled, Yet the lyrics, the words were unkind, The song about some gal, Who had done her Daddy wrong, And through the music we learned, sadly true, This poor guy had but one request, just one more thing, Oh, that Sugar please forget his name. We sang the old folksong. We were whistling and clapping, Its refrain carried our souls. We were cheering. "Shake it, Shake it, Sugaree" How else? I know no other way to say it! All of us were standing, dancing, We were singing in the pouring rain.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 31 December 2012
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ ~ PROCLAMATION I read here and inform the world, I am one who had been granted choice To have life of joy and great party, instead I embraced age and woe, and prophecy to bear. I am reminded of King David. My verse belongs to heart, I sing of love, and the bedroom, The nights when limbs fall askew, And lips of wide-open mouths lock. I write of events, whose chief renown, Rest upon time loosening its awful grasp. My arm is mighty. I am keenly skilled at weaponry. Because my heart is pure, My strength has the strength of ten. A new kingdom animates my ambition, I plan to establish Zion. On mountain top, Now sitting barren in the wilderness, The light of the ages shall flourish, The son of man, He will visit. The Lord commands I marshal my forces. My lyre sits on campaign table, My sling readies to outrage Philistines. Warriors reel, they roll in clanging lists Trumpets shrill up high, shattering the sky, I walk to the fore, my bearing right, Munificence blesses me, my enemy, All his might now lay upon the ground, Surely goodness and mercy follow me. And in the heat and noise of battle, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, Angels sing, and I fear no evil, I dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 01 January 2013
WORDS HERE (Show More) -- Or -- ~ Or ~ ~ HOME Be not troubled. Believe in me, in the dwelling, here, for you, Not only in the physical space, Upon whose floor our hearts' drama plays, But in my soul where I have built a mansion, Set a great kitchen wherein sits every proper appliance, A refrigerator to keep perishables fresh, An oven and range to cook and warm our meals. I have built a pantry, Super store of food and upon its shelves. Your Quaker Oats for breakfast, and packages of flour, Every kind of flour, spices and herbs, and then, Special for you, I have a blue enamel colander Which I have used to fill with apples and bananas. We have a kitchen table, our chairs are modern and swivel; They have a stainless footrest and a pedestal for a base. In these rooms, not only plenty daily sustenance, But also you will you find Great store of ardor and emotional well being. Our parlor has a sofa and two comfortable armchairs. Off to the right, lies a dinning room with a hardwood table, Its edge reverse-beveled; its surface has extension leaves That our family might comfortably sit for a harvest feast, Mark the other days of holiday celebration, Or that we might offer Our every-day thanksgiving prayer in the best setting. From the ceiling of our halls and foyer I have hung crystal chandeliers, Light, so that our feet not stumble Should we awake before sunrise To begin our daily chores. Darling, our bedroom windows have eastern exposure, And are fit with drapes and liners, and our bed has A comfortable mattress and high-thread-count sheets. Two down pillows, one on each side, fluffed for our repose. We shall have porcelain and silver vases for fresh flowers. I continue to refurbish our home, I have pledged my word. My verse attests to my sincerity. I demonstrate my readiness to receive you; Happy domicile awaits your presence. The Lord abides, proclaims a presence For length of days, and assures health and long life. Our peace shall fill the chests and the closets; And our rooms shall appear to glow warmly, Not from some decorator, designer expertise, But because His grace, the abundance of Holy Spirit. Where I am, I pray, there may you also be. -- I know you will keep your promise -- And wherever, should it happen that I must go, I ask that you prove yourself true, And follow me to that same place, too.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 27 December 2012

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