Winter Gathering

The Winter Gathering

Long before man tried to tame this violent Earth
Instinct-driven animals wandered and rebirth
in the tedious process to survive a life
every one big and small, peacetime come strife
when season calls, they either go south
for migration and to feed their mouth.

Today man prepares their sacred legal passport
to ensure legit entry for and every port,
economic driven or otherwise
makes us modern slaves or rather unwise
in quest of a good life we set forth
we thought can lead us to our true north.

For some, who settled but not left behind
they just hit the road mostly to unwind.
for us not so few, we grab our pen, and start writing
refusing to be idle and never returning
from our own maddening crowd we know not
as we commune to tie a common knot.

Anyone can write but we do realize,
only it's not for all to materialize
what it truly meant not to let ourselves down
be it a guest, a friend or just new in town
the cold frost, and clinking glass of red wine
we'll scribble till beyond Christmas time.




Saigon De Manila
Dec 3, 2014

A Sad Winter Shadow

A sad winter shadow crushes
the summer of my sky
Autumn’s harvest grows shorter
it seems to me
a cruel trick of time

Ed Meredith

Miracle of Snowflakes

Snowflakes softly falling down they come,
each and every one its own, never seen before!
Crystal beauties all unique casting tiny forms.

Mounting up upon another just like celestial stars
that from the beginning numbering trillions, reaching very far.

Snowflakes softy falling...falling down
...falling to the ground,
makes me think I'm just like them,
unique, never forgotten and mostly, love crowned!

Thank you Ed for checking in that fast!

Likewise to Suzanne Powers for bringing on that fresh snowflakes of awesome poetry!

Thank you Saigon for your encouragement! In the last couple of years I have discovered the joys of writing, this is a great venue to practice and be among the experienced writers.

Winter Nights

What time is it anyway nine at night
The clock on the wall chimed the final sixth time
The wind blows cold against the darkness
The night crisp and clear full of stars
Why am I complaining about a long winter night
After all longevity is what we all long for

Jim Taylor 12/3/2014

The Simple Life

Christmas had become a time of busy complication.
Decorating the Christmas tree took forever
with calculated themes and tons of decorations!

Then along came little Charlie Brown
in his child-like way
chose a shapeless scrawny tree
with needles that were forever dropping!

I looked and it took some time
to really understand the meaning
of how a child can show us truth
that less is so often the greater.

I hope some winter time hibernation will spark my inspiration! Thanks for the kick start Saigon!

A Time to Hibernate

Whirling, wicked wind
slinks beneath my coat.
I hear its hoary breath
howling Winter woes.
I turn to face the Sun,
wishing for a warm glow,
but even that great and fiery orb
gives only a reluctant show.
Thus begins the bleak
grey time of hibernation,
of ice and cold and snow.

Karen Newell
12/3/14

Has Winter Arrived Yet?

what the heck’s going on?
is it global warming or climate change?
Autumn is still hanging around
yet, temperature’s
suddenly
dropped
below
zero

wind-chill from the north
has thrown a cold snap
and dumped big load of snow
over the city
for couple
of days

regardless, winter has not yet arrived
at least
not now

you must be either kidding or insane to ask for Winter Gathering at this moment

Poe Ed
2014-12-03

A Cold Reply

A false start or a full start?
Common man are led by the weather
Europeans and Asian was never really wrong
If they found the chill started early December
Its as easy as checking the rain,
because the day becomes longer than the usual.
Other hemisphere scales it differently
whether a Southerner will disagree
on the actual distance of the lazy sun
Why do we have to argue?
When this soltice is as natural as
curling ourselves on the cooler nights ahead.

The First Day of This Year’s Winter at the North Pole?

as
of today
December third
two thousand fourteen
Autumn has still strolling about
everywhere in Northern Hemisphere

even
on the North Pole
of this planet Earth
Winter won’t come until later
it's December twenty first
let alone
in Europe
or Asia

to
say
today is winter
he must be either living on the other planet or daydreaming

Poe Ed
2014-12-03

The Folly of Time

Who is to say
"This is the day
Winter begins."?
Ancient astrologers tracking
stars across the night sky,
deciphering days of solstice?
Christian creators
of the Gregorian calendar
setting their religious significances?
How can that time be set in stone,
a date which states
"This is the day
Winter begins."?
It is only the Wind whistling his song
in a steady northern stream
who truly announces
"This is the day
Winter begins".

Karen Newell
12/3/14

the long howling winds of December nights,
drifting snow flakes in head lights.
Reindeer tracks, bell ringers .
the end is near, another year.
wishing you hope; good cheer.

An echo…

the wind is whistling outside
she has to add more wood into the fireplace to heat up the room
while rubbing her cold breasts
she talks aloud to herself
‘it must be
Winter
Now!’

she thinks of him
too
bad
he isn’t here
at this moment
to warm her
up

somehow
she’s losing track of time
and forgets that he won’t come home until the end of Autumn this year

time is very psychological

I
am
wondering
whether she is really sure if today is spring, summer, autumn, or winter.

Thao Chuong
2014-12-03

Hello there fellow Earthlings!

I see some funny confusion, cool poetry and in stride about the season trivial presence.
Like great debate there are two sides to argue. Some time we coldly take sides often times there is no winner to begin wth.
Firstyl there are two kind of winter.(yes Virginia, Santa may not even updated about this)
-The Astronomical Winter which will happen likely on December 21 or 22, as the first "official" day of winter.
-Meteorologists however seen it already happened last Monday (Dec1)
Both respectives group of scientist are no Santa Claus fans but they have different variables to deal with.
By 21st winter had been with us already for more or less than a month already (depends on where on Earth are you residng).
east Asian record their winter once they felt the wind coming from Himalayans Snow (Yebe) .Japanese wind from melting snow however alter the weather pattern down southern country in the pacific but shold not be consider as start of winter.
"Astronomical dates will fall on different days depending on the year and keeping seasonal climate records based on those dates would be confusing and inaccurate."
2nd ( weather-wise,) it makes more sense around the globe. For example, much of the northern hemisphere is entrenched in winter weather by the first day in December. Cold winds blow, snowstorms are crossing the country, and most areas north of the mid-latitudes have experienced their first freezes. December 21 is the first day of astronomical winter this year, but most regions usually have nearly a month of winter weather by that day.
Lastly, one can track when the seasons change by recording animal behaviors and the way that the plants grow.

I hope this will help you guys brewing your coffee or check if the kids are ready for Mr.Snowman.

Winterly yours,,


P.S. Worldwide, interpretation of the event has varied from culture to culture, but many cultures have held a recognition of rebirth, involving holidays, festivals, gatherings, rituals or other celebrations around that time.

Season greetngs for all of us...

That was a hypothemial fear of going old on the cold James! lol

Suzanne...truly a child can always teach us one or two..

@Poe...James gave a nice rebuttal..

@ Karen, we gather to avoid hibernating - alone. =)

@ David Lane... it's by fate that Christmas is now celebrated before New year. Both signifies beginnings.

@Viet Tran...wondering during cold season is but natural like the eerie winter silence in the woods.

An echo

The Visitor

She sits in her cozy room
beside a crackling fire,
riding the waves
of cosmic consciousness.
It could be any season,
Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall.
She is lost in her dreamy world.
Suddenly the windows shudder,
and a wild whistling
shrieks through the keyhole.
The front door flys open with a bang.
She jumps up to slam it shut,
deftly latching the lock.
"Honey," calls her husband
"is someone here?"
"No Darling. It is only the Winter wind."
she replies wearing her secret smile.

Karen Newell
12/5/14

.

i don’t remember yesterday
but here i am fresh and new
sculpted by an unseen hand
that told me where to stand
and what i am

without instructions on how to be
i stand here for all to see
ever-still in my frozen pose
that my creator in his wisdom chose
never being asked if i had a preference
i was mute in my ignorance and acceptance
of what i could impose and introduce
had i known i could have been a diamond
a dragon or a flightless goose
but i said nothing of what i desired
while my creator worked and shaped until he tired
and walked away at the end on day
leaving me alone in the darkness of night
with no one in sight

i don’t remember yesterday
but here i am fresh and new
sculpted by an unseen hand
that told me where to stand
and what i am


Ed Meredith
5 December, 2014

The Folly of Winter Celebration
(an echo to Karen’s ‘The Folly of Time’)

it ain’t the ‘folly of time’
but madness of shopping season
is the senseless reason
for worst silly stress
of the year
end

not only it wrecks sacred spirit
but also it turns every Winter Festival into a commercial bait to catch consuming addicts

Merry
Christmas
is no longer
about jolly celebration
of the holy birth of Jesus Christ
but has become rowdy parties for highway robbers from those big businesses
to enjoy their best loot of the year

Thao Chuong
2014-12-05

The Swan
by Sydne Archambault

I stood and watched,
from the bank of
the frigid river.
Lacy ripples trailing,
after
the ghostly Figure.
In robes of white,
she came,
floating into
my black night.
She the royal priestess
and I to be baptized
in her white feathered bliss.

It is Summer
Ripe Fruit has fallen,
Yellow and Orange on the lawn
My winter coat hangs in the robe
Forlorn, as my summer skin is darkening.
It rains,
I stand in it,
It bounces and sizzles on the hot concrete,
Like natures fruit,
It’s sweet,
To feel.
It is Summer
I will not freeze.
But never pleased
I smile to think of snow
And home.

Maria Disley 6/12/2014

A Cold Echo
(His Crave For Winter)

he’s howling against cold wind
like a panic monkey crying for his lost mate

he’s so
obsessed
by the winter
without recognizing
that
she’s
probably
-strolling around in a mega shopping mall
-buried deep inside a department store
-or taking a nap somewhere
in the bush
right beside
him

however
it could be the icing temperature that freezes his mind
and makes him utterly confused
not knowing
which
one
he's
craving
the most
on the cold days
banana bread?
or her warm breasts ?

Poe Ed
2014-12-05

It Is Not a Winter Wonderland :))

On the other side of the World
the Sun is warm and the fruit is ripe.
She is not clinging to her coat,
nor bracing herself against the frigid cold.
She is standing in the tepid rain laughing,
and thinking how it would be fantastic
if she could see snow falling on the cedars.
It is the most romantic notion, a white Christmas.
In Kansas I have not seen a single snowflake,
I only feel that biting sting of the bitter North Wind.
I too am fickle and never pleased,
am I wishing for a Winter wonderland
or for a sultry Summer sabbatical?

Winter Celebration


I strolled around
in downtown
today

waking through an alley full of graffiti
I was choked by a unique mixture
of rotten garbage
cooking smell
urine stench
and other unrecognized odours

I saw a couple of hungry crows
hostilely chasing each other
fighting for
a piece of
bread

they were defiantly circling
just
right
above
the head of a homeless man
who was busily searching in a restaurant’s dumpster
probably for
something
edible

my ears were
bombarded by
frustrating cawing of those noisy crows
and interment coughs of the homeless
at the same time
I was also hearing delighted Christmas carols
vaguely echoed from
a shopping mall
nearby

how could I enjoy the happy spirit from those lyrics celebrating the snow, the cold, the snowman, and the Santa Claus, while I was witnessing the desperate need for food of those hungry beings in the harsh winter time?

Thao Chuong
2014-12-06

Price Must Be Paid For What Taken

i’m told
“everything has its own price”

I
guess
you’re right
gives and takes
are always a two-way street
even the absolute love is not unconditional

logically, I must pay cash, or in kind, or any other way
for whatever
I want to
take

I’ve already
known for sure for many years
what fee my god would charge me for his love
especially for his luxury service of saving my soul
from being burnt in an extremely hot oven
of his eternal hell

how
about you
what’s your cost for me to be in love with?

Thao Chuong
2014-12-21

Love does not seem to come easy
I first felt its cost
Beside the open grave
Just after the clumps of earth were tossed.
It came like rolls of thunder
Into my heart,
And breathless
I exhaled its howl
Of real love just realised
And there it was lost!
I knew then its cost
But, young enough to then recognise it
For its own names sake,
Love...you can only give
And never take....
And it takes a lot of living
To learn from fake love mistakes.

Yes, dear Maria.
And, it takes a lot of loving to learn by mistakes, the costs of unconditional love............but, but, so what ! Viet. So what.
What do we take with us to the promised land?

the consolation is = you cannot keep 'real' love...............imho/experience........all things change......sigh !!

You cannot KEEP it but once experienced it never leaves. It's also ironic that unconditional love is priceless :)))

Love


I don’t know
what love is
whether it gives or takes
if it is genuine or fake, cool or hot, good or bad, sweet or bitter,
joy or pain, win or loss,
or an odd mixture
from all of those
above

only
one thing
about love
that I’ve known for sure through own experience for many years

while
I was falling in it
my mind was blind
love genuinely took me on its journey of endless joy
somehow I thought it real
so
genuine
that I could even touch it with my naked body

as
soon as
I fell out of it
my heart was shattered
love drove me mad and made me sad
I felt bad
somewhat I perceived it bogus
more
deceptive
than any scary hell that I could imagine for my sinful soul

love is obviously about human’s touchy emotions
nothing to do
with its own
essence

Thao Chuong
2014-12-22

Rest and Peace Joe Cocker (1944-2014)


Up Where We Belong

Who knows what tomorrow brings
In a world, few hearts survive
All I know is the way I feel
When it's real, I keep it alive

The road is long, there are mountains in our way
But we climb a step every day

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, up where the clear wind blow

Some hang on to used to be
Live their lives, loking behind

All we have is here and now
All our life, out there to find

The road is long, there are mountains in our way,
But we climb them a step ev'ry day

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, up where the clear winds blow

Time goes by, no time to cry, life's you and I
A live today

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, where the clear winds blow

(by Jack Nitzsche, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Will Jennings)

Love

?


http://www.theguardian.com/world/video/2014/dec/22/monkey-saves-dying-friend-train-station-india-video

Thats a great great song Saigon, an earlier tribute to Joe Cocker...

Always saw Joe Cocker as the archetypal American, a living (now deceased RIP) legend. Just heard on the BBC World Service radio, a brief bio and interview with a contemporary of his, Tony Christie “Is this the way to Amarillo”, describing his from early life in 1960s Sheffield in the north of England, Cocker was quite a quiet and nice guy; Cocker performed the pubs and working men’s clubs as Vance Arnold and the Avengers, covering Ray Charles and Chuck Berry, whilst working as a gas fitter for the gas board. He got a record deal but his first releases were flops. Then he emerged as Joe Cocker! A generation before many of us, but his name and voice always make you stop and listen.. his music and words go deep – oh and he considered the gas career quite seriously! Well what a take off he had. Gas propelled! Lots of turbulence with drugs and alcohol and mental health. Colorado mountains became his peace. Quite a few genuinely deeply emotional tones in the media. Legend!

Here’s an extensive obituary in the Guardian.
http://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/dec/22/joe-cocker

His last years
http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_9582828?source=infinite

Joe Cocker RIP
To be re-discovered by later generations

.

"Unconditional Love Is Priceless"

like
a tornado
it came and left
it wiped out everything on its path
leaving nothing left
for him to grip
in his free
fall


he
sat
in silence
head down
on a church bench
listening to the moaning sounds
vaguely rebounded
from somewhere unknown
deep down
inside his
own
self

“I’m
going
to God’s Hell
for Love…”
written on a suicide note
later found in his
bachelor
suit

today’s
brightly sunny
a gorgeous Sunday
she is walking in a city park
hand in hand with
another
man

‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ at her joyful moment? (*)

Thao Chuong
2014-12-23

(*) Note: For Whom the Bell Tolls is the title of a novel by Ernest Hemingway published in 1940

Merry Christmas to All Happy Kids

cheer
to his eerie mood
and to all other happy kids in their jolly mood
during the holly season
it’s merely the reason
for the merry
spirit

hey
cyber-kids
stop playing with your laptops
put away your ipads
turn off your iphones
don’t stay inside
lift your butts up and run to open-air
play and laugh with a snowman

or
go to
the North Pole
take a fun ride on Santa’s sledge
rub his beer belly
pull his bushy beard
and joyfully chant aloud
‘Ho..Ho..Ho…Merry Christmas’

hey
innocent kids!
keep your fancy belief
it ain’t make-believe
Santa will certainly come through your hot chimney
and leave your dreaming gifts under the Christmas tree
you wake up early in the next day
rub your sleeping eyes
what’s a surprise
“your dream
comes
true”

Ho!.. Ho!... Ho!..
Merry Christmas

you’ve done great job
to behave yourself
for the whole
year round

you deserve it
now unwrap your gift

Ho!..Ho!..Ho!…
Merry Christmas

Thao Chuong
2014-12-23

I am taking a break folks. Double entendre is so disturbing, isn't it? Time to rest.

As we know, it is the 100 year anniversary of the outbreak of WWI.

Christmas in the trenches... the legend of the Christmas truce during the conflict and a game of football - is 100 years old, and shows the dimensions of humanity at Christmas, symbolic of our deeper conflicting emotions, love and hate, friendship and adversary.. a common morality confused by the struggles of nationhood and ideology and politics and religion...

http://www.iwm.org.uk/history/the-real-story-of-the-christmas-truce

StarChristmas 1916: an Australian Observation Post near Fleurbaix, on the Somme front
(painting by William Barnes Wollen)

http://www.greatwar.nl/xmas/poem.html

Christmas Day on the Somme
By Rob Ruggenberg

"Australian soldier Leslie George Rub (picture on the right) fought and died in the Great War. He was single and one of nine children of a pioneering family (originally from Germany) in Drayton, Queensland. He was a carpenter by trade.

Like so many others he left a diary, some letters and a picture. From these his great-niece Julie Price is now compiling a small book. While reading his letters she came across a gem: the poem Christmas Day on the Somme, that her great-uncle apparently wrote in France, in 1916. "....




Christmas Day On The Somme

’Twas Christmas Day on the Somme
The men stood on parade,
The snow laid six feet on the ground
Twas twenty in the shade.

Up spoke the Captain ‘gallant man’,
"Just hear what I’ve to say,
You may not have remembered that
Today is Christmas Day."

"The General has expressed a wish
This day may be observed,
Today you will only work eight hours,
A rest that’s well deserved.

I hope you’ll keep yourselves quite clean
And smart and spruce and nice,
The stream is frozen hard
But a pick will break the ice."

"All men will get two biscuits each,
I’m sure you’re tired of bread,
I’m sorry there’s no turkey
but there’s Bully Beef instead.

The puddings plum have not arrived
But they are on their way,
I’ll guarantee they’ll be in time
To eat next Christmas Day."

"You’re parcels would have been in time
But I regret to say
The vessel which conveyed them was
Torpedoed on the way.

The Quartermaster’s got your rum
But you may get some yet,
Each man will be presented with
A Woodbine Cigarette."

"The Huns have caught us in the rear
And painted France all red,
Pray do not let that trouble you,
Tomorrow you’ll be dead.

Now ere you go I wish you all
This season of good cheer,
A very happy Christmas and
A prosperous New Year."

http://www.greatwar.nl/xmas/poem.html

http://noglory.org/index.php/multimedia/poetry-and-spoken-word/35-carol-ann-duffy-the-last-post-2



"UK Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy wrote this poem in remembrance of the soldiers in the German and British trenches in World War 1, who declared a momentary unilateral truce in the slaughter at Christmas 1914, in recognition of what united them as human beings, rather than the war that divided them as killing machines.

carol ann duffy christmas truce Carol Ann Duffy's The Christmas Truce, with illustrations by David Roberts, is published by Picador £5.99"


The Christmas Truce
by Carol Ann Duffy

Christmas Eve in the trenches of France, the guns were quiet.
The dead lay still in No Man's Land –
Freddie, Franz, Friedrich, Frank . . .
The moon, like a medal, hung in the clear, cold sky.
Silver frost on barbed wire, strange tinsel, sparkled and winked.
A boy from Stroud stared at a star
to meet his mother's eyesight there.
An owl swooped on a rat on the glove of a corpse.
In a copse of trees behind the lines, a lone bird sang.
A soldier-poet noted it down – a robin holding his winter ground –
then silence spread and touched each man like a hand.
Somebody kissed the gold of his ring;
a few lit pipes;
most, in their greatcoats, huddled,
waiting for sleep.
The liquid mud had hardened at last in the freeze.
But it was Christmas Eve; believe; belief thrilled the night air,
where glittering rime on unburied sons
treasured their stiff hair.
The sharp, clean, midwinter smell held memory.
On watch, a rifleman scoured the terrain –
no sign of life,
no shadows, shots from snipers, nowt to note or report.
The frozen, foreign fields were acres of pain.
Then flickering flames from the other side danced in his eyes,
as Christmas Trees in their dozens shone, candlelit on the parapets,
and they started to sing, all down the German lines.
Men who would drown in mud, be gassed, or shot, or vaporised
by falling shells, or live to tell, heard for the first time then –
Stille Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Alles schläft, einsam wacht …
Cariad, the song was a sudden bridge from man to man;
a gift to the heart from home,
or childhood, some place shared …
When it was done, the British soldiers cheered.
A Scotsman started to bawl The First Noel
and all joined in,
till the Germans stood, seeing
across the divide,
the sprawled, mute shapes of those who had died.
All night, along the Western Front, they sang, the enemies –
carols, hymns, folk songs, anthems, in German, English, French;
each battalion choired in its grim trench.
So Christmas dawned, wrapped in mist, to open itself
and offer the day like a gift
for Harry, Hugo, Hermann, Henry, Heinz …
with whistles, waves, cheers, shouts, laughs.
Frohe Weinachten, Tommy! Merry Christmas, Fritz!
A young Berliner, brandishing schnapps,
was the first from his ditch to climb.
A Shropshire lad ran at him like a rhyme.
Then it was up and over, every man, to shake the hand
of a foe as a friend,
or slap his back like a brother would;
exchanging gifts of biscuits, tea, Maconochie's stew,
Tickler's jam … for cognac, sausages, cigars,
beer, sauerkraut;
or chase six hares, who jumped
from a cabbage-patch, or find a ball
and make of a battleground a football pitch.
I showed him a picture of my wife. Ich zeigte ihm
ein Foto meiner Frau.
Sie sei schön, sagte er.
He thought her beautiful, he said.
They buried the dead then, hacked spades into hard earth
again and again, till a score of men
were at rest, identified, blessed.
Der Herr ist mein Hirt … my shepherd, I shall not want.
And all that marvellous, festive day and night, they came and went,
the officers, the rank and file, their fallen comrades side by side
beneath the makeshift crosses of midwinter graves...
... beneath the shivering, shy stars
and the pinned moon
and the yawn of History;
the high, bright bullets
which each man later only aimed at the sky.

After Midnight Of The Christmas Eve


rain had already ended its miserable journey
for a couple of hours
after many days
of soggy pour
down

it was
overcast
neither any twinkle star hanging on the murky sky
nor a tiny piece of snowflake could be seen falling down

sitting by the fireplace inside their comfy home
many people somewhat complained
“oh!
no snow
tonight
for white Christmas”

‘twas
chilly outside
temperature dropped
wind blew frostily cold
still-wet ground became icy and slippery

it was
very crowded
but warm and cozy
at the common gathering place for the homeless
everybody noisily talked and laughed while joyous lyrics of holy Noël were filling the warm air
they stayed late until the door was closed
then slowly dispersed into the mist
back to their ‘home-sweet-home’
somewhere unknown
around downtown

today is a restful day off
many people still enjoy a peaceful time with their loved ones

unfortunately
for the homeless
it’s same as many other days of the year
they continue carrying
their overloaded
cross

Thao Chuong
2014-12-25

Happy Holidays to everyone...speaking of love just wanted to share an excerpt from an old poem about my Mother on our last December together.

A SON REMEMBERS

As childhood plays we numbered in our days
Mom never ceases to love come what may.
With a spouse like trojan horse in our mind
paternal mirage or presence that was unkind
In twisted vine of the path we've taken
Her visions betrayed her tender station
Advancing age on single frail body
The goal of holding on without folly
Came unsteady while we grow on quickly
As the world comes bigger just unfairly
.
And when the time reaper's scythe lurks to prey
darkness got her unfolding us away
hospital trip are frequent than the bills.
Our dysfunctional senses came to spills
Crisis come mocking our fervor wishes
As if crossroads are bad premises
No vile of thoughts had come near before me
But one ambient night was fiercer than wee
Death was deafening I can remember
All lights smoldering in darkest ember
I struggled that night while son's retrieved
Memories made my sanity reprieved

Eight days then passed two days before Christmas
Friends, members of our clans offered a mass
On day of burial past meridian
recalling agony all obsidian.
A wild unrest swirling within my head
as throat being clogged by a vicious lead
Some trifling wind innately reminds me
How the world inside her was epitome
Of peace and comfort, badly resembling
Now on this funeral I fight my trembling
Because 38 years ago today
She gave birth to me in a holiday
Leading to mortal life without delay
Now, I bleed my last sight of her this day.
As I wept the circle of life I see
mother's ascension to divinity.

-Saigon de Manila © 2013

A holiday tragedy today on winter..FLIGHT QZ8510 AIRASIA



Our prayers...

Loved reading all winter poems and Jason, great tributes to soldiers, read poems to my mum, saigon have always loved your tribute to your mum and the symbolic candle for the world.

There's endings and beginnings of enormous concern
and a beginning and ending to a piece of thread.
A beginning and an ending to a sudden encounter,
filled with inspiration,
A beginning and an end to a mind numbing lecture.
So they say!
Seems like all of these beginnings and endings
are just continuations,
like the snow from frozen rain,
like the grey cloud holding the rain
like the rain falling and cooling the red earth here
like the sun drying up the rain,
like the rain filling the water tanks and dams and wells
like a thirsty mouth
around a cupped hand full of water,
which dribbles through the eager fingers.
Rain is imminent,
I feel its weight in the silver edged clouds
something is about to begin
some things are about to end,
but it will all merge and continue
I WILL see her again.....
I MUST see her again.
As the journey shifts to its close
I catch her long looks
like I'm caught outside in a sudden shower,
but now, the clouds are holding on
their silver edges are shining like all cloud's linings.
It feels like winter
looking out here from the window,
but it's the height of summer,
It rains in Summer too
and the sun shines in Winter,
Things come and go
begin and end
and continue.

'Looks like rain', she says,
pulling back the sheer curtain.

At last it came,
lashed its wet mane
across the window pane, through the trees,
How I love the sound of rain,
how it pleases me.
I sunk into the chair
to declare,
"I love the smell and sound of that out there!"
Those wet white arrows spearing through the air!
"Is that rain?" she asked
She didn't have her hearing aid attached.
Some thunder struck,
What luck, it rained,
This humid Summer's Monday afternoon.
What luck, its beads are like a chain
linking me with memories again,
and cooling all the heat,
within.

Long Road

Walking down that long road
I can hear your voice on the wind
Are you calling my name
Are you some where in the night
Or just in a dream
Are you now so complete
Did you really mean to leave
Are you waiting for me
Walking down that long road

Jim Taylor 12/29/14

Inspired by a Richie Havens song.

We are bonded by artistic morbidity
Introspect to whatever maybe
Norms neither emotion
Transcending nor
Ephemeral to
Reactions

Gain
Albeit written
Thru experiences
Honed by tranquility
Emulating the raw changes
Reminiscing the cold season
In either polar or temperate means
Noting the solstices of unique longing
Group or selfish share of our unfrozen thoughts.

Saigon De Manila...that was well done :)

Thank You Melissa for your kind words!

Your artwork below just captured the season...and reason for a gathering.

Is Vivian Anderson hibernating?
She is fine woman I will be missing this winter!



Image Credit:Maria Disley

Comrades and friends,

Am announcing the closure of this thread in the next 72 hours after last post or within 15days limit.

Please save your prose, poetry perspective, poetry in the upcoming SPRING GATHERING.


PS. Give my regards to VIVIAN ANDERSON!

Hi Saigon.

Vivian Anderson is longer a FAA member. I don't know what could have led her to fold the tent and took off with all of her wonderful artworks. It was too bad for me to recognize that her account was closed. We can see and talk with her on FB. Good time to you on the new journey, Vivian.