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Howling Bloody Hell
Homage to Marcus Slease
ARCHETYPE Sonnet No. 42
Love of Rarest Vintage
Once Upon A Lifetime
Overtones of Holmes
Life's Indelible Beat
Sonnet No. 36–Citation
Chained Tears
Ode to a Bookshop
A Grain of Sand
Europe's Decline
Celtic Vibrations
Morning Mists
Cymru (Wales)
Old Men of My Village
Salt of the Earth
Windy Frenzy
Where the Hand, Human, Went
A Love Song
The Chess players
Love Is So Unwise
The Triple Muse
Spring Rain
Winter Sunset
Always 'There'
Angels in the Sky
Imperishable Essence
Urge of Creation
Collector's Items
Child of Delight
Cleaning out Attics
The Artist
Love's Sublime Echo
No Borders
Honest Song's Measure
Sappho's Echo
Fullest Moon
Sonnet No. 19
The Lovers
Mythologies & Deities
Overtones of Robert Frost
Sonnet No. 9


All disappears. This proud land where I stand
With its many seas and mountains, rivers,
Rich vineyards with many sorts of wines,
Its forests, chateaux, and green farmland.
Sea-ports, towns and villages, cities.
Multiple cheeses: empty churches.
Ancient ramparts: German bunkers: occupation.
Cemeteries lined with snow white crosses,
Full of foreign names: soldiers who gave their lives,
Helping this country rid itself of shameful crimes.

A continent, steeped in hist'ry and fighting:
Bonaparte, Descartes, Voltaire, Chateaubriand,
Moliere, Baudelaire, Rodin, Camille, Victor Hugo,
Camus, Piaf, called La Môme, Char, Boris Vian.
Jean Moulin, de Gaulle, Résistance Army, Truffaut.
Petain, Vichy, Laval, collaboration.
Concentration Camps, Deportation, Gestapo.
Sylvia Beach, Joyce, George Whitman, Jean Vigo.
Les Fauves, Gainsbourg, Bardot, Birkin, Beckett, Sartre.
Existentialists, Impressionists, Bistros!

The Great War: which robbed her of youth's flow' ring,
Signaling collapse of European power.
She never surmounted colossal human loss,
Neither second shock of World War Two.
Whatever may be writ or felt of fault,
Europe must face the fact of her decline.
It has happened thruout human hist'ry:
With time, all things pass on, they go: and will
Continue so: moment's ripe to show best to next
Of lessons taught and wisdom learnt.

Those who fell sacrificing young lives, stemming
From all nations and ethnic origins:
Did what their brave souls thought would keep out,
Eastern posture imposing its might on sprayed
Territory of Western pasture. Twenty-first
Cent'ry has progressed far beyond thought of what
Twentieth cent'ry minds believed right.
Yet Europe still refuses change, when faced with truth,
So task becomes gored cast of poets, hoping
Inbred intelligence will come to the rescue.

As I write, arrogant shouts scorn advice, which begs
Fluency take priority over all else.
Using new common language, practiced world wide.
This the prime target: vital tool necessary:
As thrown dice points, survival's presage,
Even as it mourns sullied tongues, spoiled, soiled,
By multiple cultures: Poetic vision flaunts
Audacity, shows spunk: over-rides fears, tears, prides:
Knows what must be done. Fights fierce rank nostalgia,
Glued to pasts, as Europe looms as a museum!

Of all past genocides, much has been said.
Yet one feels a great deal remains hidden.
Out of many millions dead: of Armenians, Greeks,
Assyrians, wiped out thru ethnic cleansing,
By the Ottoman Empire, (who deny such acts) -
Little is known, or published. Though time reveals facts.
Atrocities : covered up crimes: stacked in graves,
Incites we question deeply: human racial hates:
Tribal genocides. How close to our skin, clings
Such loathing? Where does it begin, and where end?

Questions posed, with no absolute answers.
Answers with no sure truth of proof. One wonders:
What can poets compose of their epoch: written
On pages soaked in so much bloodshed. So much
Violence seen on screens, streets, homes, schoolyards;
Or as signs: slogans on graves. Seems fear, terror:
Rule daily lives, yet realize cause a result
Of instant information reaching thru news.
Do delinquents repeat what they see on T.V.
Believe what they act out, as normal behavior?

Does the universe send out warning signals?
Or is war, killing, an inbred instinct of man?
What do we really know of self, or anything
As we strut; shouting out slogans of who's best?
What new philosophy will emerge to ease
Such conflicting turmoil: appease the masses?
Chaos always births new genius, brings solutions.
Great minds: glimpsed thru time's glimmering mirror,
Surges forth, as energies and zest. Nature waits:
Knows man invents nothing: simply finds what exists!

Poets do not care to discuss or compete,
They are the first to receive, conceive, new waves.
Their purpose on earth is to transcribe what they feel
Nature's true message reveals: not always clear.
Supreme: creation conceals, contains everything!
This alone deserves intense consideration,
Pleases poet's personal predilection,
Felt as part of inbred mission: to disclose
What grows under our noses, a philosophy
Of feminine content, worthy to be read.

All is stored within genetic memory,
Bred before birth as something ordinary,
Yet perfectly in tune with all that's great
Of human soul and spirit; where humility
Alone, sits upon a sturdy stone, urging
Man to understand his place: appreciate
What nature only understands of time and space.
These lines of intuitive wisdom will become:
Next song to be sung, saying wrong must beg pardon.
Claim contradiction, as being, sole conviction!

Panmelys 2014


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