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Saturday, July 2, 2011

A FRIEND INDEED – Prompt # 10

In the states, we will celebrate our independence day this week. Around Buffalo there is a celebration that spans from Buffalo to Fort Erie, Canada. Called the "Friendship Festival" it pays tribute to our Fourth of July celebration and Canada Day (July 1). Write about a friend and their influence on your life.

As a "wild-card" prompt, write an Independence Day poem. (For our friends outside of the Continental US, write about the big celebration from your locale)

Marie Elena’s Good work:

Changed for Good

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
But you doubted you,
And I doubted me.

Came tickles and pokes,
And glances and notes;
Then gazes and hugs,
And lingering goodbyes.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
No doubt on your part,
No doubt upon mine.

“For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and health”
Eternally altered,
Our lives intertwined.


Walt’s Tale of Brotherhood:

BROTHERS BEFORE FRIENDS

Four abreast, a test
of our mother’s resolve.
That we would evolve
into the men we’ve become
is a testament to her temperament.

We came from the same womb,
shared the same room; bunk beds.
And instead of pulling together,
we fought to tear apart what
was expected of us.

Our fight was not without gain.
Dominance was the grail
in our never fail battle to rattle
our foundation. We were brothers
but our mother’s worst nightmare.

Grown to adulthood, it would stand
to reason that our seasoning would bring
a camaraderie that would meld us
into a band of unlikely souls
filling the holes that gaped our bond.

Now the friends that once tattered the fabric
have become strong and impenetrable,
iron-clad lads with a lot of bad blood
to transfuse. We can all use its soothing balm,
to calm and bring us healing.

Healing from the inside out,
there leaves little doubt that
being brothers brought us to be
the friends we always needed.
Brothers are friends indeed.

30 comments:

  1. A Friend in Me

    It's lonely when you're young
    and there's no one there to play.
    Just a silent room, a toy or two
    and one tiny untapped brain.
    So in the solitude of boredom
    and the crease of serene peace
    I met a dear and loyal friend
    that no one else could see.
    She followed me around
    and giggled at my jokes.
    She always agreed to play
    the games I enjoyed the most.
    Conversations were delightful,
    her sacarsm mirrored mine;
    It was sometimes as if we shared
    exactly the same mind.
    So when the others taunted me
    for the company I kept,
    I simply shrugged and carried on
    with my transparent friend.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Good morning Walt and Shannon! Great start!

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  3. I've written several poems about or for my best friend - I'll do a new one soon but I`m having a relaxing Sunday and this is an oldie:


    Insignificant

    The glory of creation
    The wonder of the universe
    The miracle of motherhood
    The marvel of Mother Nature
    The Seven Wonders of the World
    The magnificent Grand Canyon
    The towering majesty of Everest
    The mystery of the seven seas
    The moment when the mint choc chip
    Melts into the strawberry and you think you might faint
    The punch the air Yeah! That´s me! Moment
    That you remember all your life
    The first cry of a baby
    The beauty that is Spring´s
    Are ordinary
    Tame
    Mundane
    Bordering on boring
    And fade into insignificance
    When faced with you
    My best friend


    Iain

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  4. Shannon, your poem made me smile. It reminded me of my daughter's imaginary friend. She came when my daughter was 3 (shortly after we had moved). She was a well-behaved friend who stayed with us for a while, but as time passed her visits became fewer and fewer. Eventually, we were told she moved away.

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  5. Lori had twins, Jan boy and Jan girl.

    Since I have a picture with mine, you can see it at http://enthusiasticsoul.blogspot.com/2011/07/river-of-stone-3-also-poetic-bloomings.html

    ReplyDelete
  6. MY DEAREST FRIEND

    How dark a time, you ask? The weight that crushed
    My heart, how heavy? None can say in prose
    What words describe the void he left. What slush
    Of wordy drivel dares to speak of woes
    This son laments! Verses hardly come near
    The telling. My papa, hero of my youth,
    Has died. The door was shut. He disappeared
    When cancer’s pain became the stronger truth.
    Explain a life in words just leaves me cold.
    I cannot speak the language of my heart
    Where sorrow deeply stirs, and words untold
    Remain unspoken. Silence plays the part
    Of mourner. What can be clearly said now
    About a father and son, both good friends
    Who shared some happy years that fate allowed?
    Why waste the ink in all that I could pen
    To stay the dark hand of grief. Why bother.
    Enough to say, I miss him…my father.

    #

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  7. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  8. Connie, I am glad you clarified that. For a minute, I thought Lori actually had twins and I was wondering how I missed the fact that she was pregnant. LOL

    Linda Hofke



    .

    ReplyDelete
  9. Oops! Noticed two typos in mine. Also realized that I sort of went off topic. I started writing about the influence my friend had on me and then her migratory ways migrated their way into it and this is what I ended up with.

    The Arctic Tern

    You are the queen of migration,
    taking to the sky in search of second summers,
    long journeys of time commonplace
    for your out-stretched wings.

    I read of a ringed, unfledged chick
    being tracked over 14,000 miles from Farne Islands, UK,
    to Melbourne, Australia in only three months.
    I wonder how long it remained there.

    Most nest for an extended period before
    setting off on another long migration,
    taking a meandering course to take advantage
    of prevailing winds above vast seas.

    You are the queen of migration,
    my dear, old friend, disappearing
    for day, months, even years before returning
    to me in one shape or form--

    A postcard, telephone call, or visit.
    My heart sings like a lark to hear your voice,
    to put my arms around you in embrace, to share
    some sunshine with you before you once again fly.

    ReplyDelete
  10. In the third stanza, please change it to "chartering a meandering course..." instead of "taking a meandering..."

    Sorry for the kazillion posts. Lazy Sunday brains don't always function well. :-)


    SALVATORE--you posted as I was posting. I have always enjoyed your work and that one is a tear-jerker. I especially like these lines:

    Silence plays the part Of mourner

    Why waste the ink in all that I could pen
    To stay the dark hand of grief


    Linda Hofke

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  11. It's been a bad back week for me - so here's a sonnet on fireworks, inside and out. Back later with a friend, I hope. Happy Canada/Independence Day to all!

    Fireworks

    Bring out the fireworks. The night has won
    Again, dropping its veil above my head,
    Close gathering the hues of day in red
    Array at the horizon, where the sun
    Has folded down its tent. The children run
    Outside to feast upon the lightning spread
    For them across the sky. No time for bed,
    They will not sleep until the show is done.
    I, too, know fireworks this awful night
    A veil of different cloth drawn round about
    My core. These mad electric nails that play
    Upon the spasming of muscles pulled too tight
    This helpless staggering, and hidden doubt.
    I hold them all, and pray to see the day.

    ReplyDelete
  12. What are friends for?

    I told Paul, “Keep schtum,
    But I really fancy Liz.”
    “Mum’s the word,” he grinned.
    But then he went and told her.
    After all, what are friends for?

    ReplyDelete
  13. Hello, all...

    I generally post my poem in its entirety here, but it's rather long and has some formatting I know I won't be able to figure out how to keep within the comments. And for those who frequent Poetic Asides, you'll see it's the same link as I shared there. I combined several prompts into one poem.


    Here's the link: Between the Lines.

    Have a safe holiday, for those celebrating Independence Day!

    ~Paula

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  14. A Friend Indeed

    In my world
    there is no division
    between love and friendship

    A friend's pain is mine
    A friend's enemies are mine
    A friend I will protect and
    defend to my last

    A friend's success is my joy
    What I have is theirs to share

    I have never had one
    but I have been one and
    that is more important

    Ariadne

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  15. because friendship strengthens
    because friendship knows all about endurance
    I managed to do the impossible.

    you would walk me halfway home when I walked 
    you home from my house. We were stronger
    because friendship strengthens

    we sang that stupid wall of beer down
    and back up again a gazillion times
    because friendship knows all about endurance

    ideals, like trust and friendship
    are impossible to destroy.
    I managed the impossible.

    ReplyDelete
  16. (this is draftier than most of my drafts.  still percolating the concepts, but sometimes seeing things in this context shows me things I miss.  so, here goes)

    had a conversation the other day.
    guy I'd just met gave me his life story.
    (it's what you do, isn't it?)
    told me how many times in fifteen married years

    he'd up- and down- sized homes (and towns) (eight)
    (you pack that same cracked saucer, over, and
    that same Great Book you say you mean to read, over)
    in a storage locker (place used to be a Sears Roebuck)

    with the maple rocker she found an old man to 
    intricately recane, the clippings from her days
    as a reporter, her well-used books and dried Bics,
    my mother-in-law's wealth of dresses still hang

    like ghosts, in three tall cardboard clothing coffins.
    important to her.  and because it makes sense to me
    I hold on to them, things that mean nothing to me.
    a person who, because the place was filthy-dirty (and

    who's fault was that, hmmm?) up and left an apartment.
    took my dirty laundry, Mama's quilt, 
    three quarters of a carton of Marlboros.  I was young.
    but I, if I were alone, would shed my life as thoughtlessly

    at sixty plus and start over with a new skin.  And that
    makes sense to me, too.  but I am American, and we
    are born out of moving vans and the cardboard boxes
    from behind the liquor store.  we move, and dream

    of moving, even with boxes never unpacked (It is the 
    Last Time.  we say, every time)  The people
    who began this country, and the people who came
    and made it all the strange and good and bad

    silly, dangerous, wonderful things it is
    were people who couldn't take it any longer back at home.
    They had to move on.
    And believed that, just out of sight now, around

    the next turn in the road, the next corner, in the next
    aisle, apartment, job, marriage
    is the place
    the one where the weather can't be beat, with great

    views, (fishing or schools or theater or freedoms or bars or)
    and good water.  Good people for neighbors, too.  A place
    for fresh starts, they wanted.  We want.  For all our love 
    of things, I think we all have dreams of shedding our skin. 

    ReplyDelete
  17. well, it did have a title:

    HOMES

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  18. Paula, that one is sad.

    Andrew, I liked Fireworks. Hope you back is feeling better.

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  19. Friends

    My friends are all
    Italian

    Vivaldi
    Cimarosa
    Marcello
    Scarlatti

    Tartini
    Monteverdi
    Gabrielli
    Corelli

    They have been dead
    a while
    But
    We still keep in touch

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  20. Some amazing pieces from old friends and brand new. Some heart-tugging pieces for this prompt ... wow. Keep the quality coming, all. Lovin' it! To those of you who are new voices, WELCOME! Please feel free to contact Walt and I at poeticbloomings@yahoo.com if you have any questions, or have a website you'd like us to add to our "Daisy Chain," or a publication you'd like to display on our "Bookshelf." We're glad you are here!

    ReplyDelete
  21. BFF

    I don't need a BFF
    just a good friend will do.
    We may have known each other for years
    or our connection may be rather new.

    I don't need a BFF 
    just a good friend will do.
    Where platitudes are not accepted
    and only the truth will come through.

    I don't need a BFF
    just a good friend will do.
    Pretense and pride are dismissed
    we are here for each other, it's true.

    I don't need a BFF 
    just a good friend will do.
    One who laughs with me and at me 
    as long as we can laugh at you too.

    I don't need a BFF
    just a good friend will do.
    I'm careful when choosing good friends
    could my non-BFF be you?


    ~Kelly
    http://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/

    ReplyDelete
  22. 'Aha, So we meet again Moriarty '

    Hi Barbruh of Barbra Seville fame. Yep, this is my new playing field until I get the toss or sent to coventry for wicked effusive commentary.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Michael Grove Writes:


    Her Magical Powers

    He would drive a thousand miles.
    He would wait a hundred years.
    He would spend a million dollars.
    He would shed a billion tears.

    He would keep her vision always.
    He would dwell on all his pain.
    He would stay in his own prison.
    He would wait alone in vain.

    He would pray she would turn toward him.
    He would not walk toward another.
    He would dream of being with her.
    He would love her like no other.

    By Michael Grove

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  24. Michael Grove Writes:


    What’s Not To Love?

    As I search deep inside,
    I seek and I find.
    What’s not to love? You share what’s on your mind.

    When I look at this world,
    wander over this land
    What’s not to love when you reach out your hand?

    We do care and we share
    sit and talk awhile,
    What’s not to love when we share a smile?

    When I’m down on my knees
    and I reach for the skies
    What’s not to love when I look in your eyes?

    We’re so happy together
    in a moment of bliss
    What’s not to love when we share a kiss?

    Honesty’s everything
    In all we discuss
    What’s not to love when we give our trust?

    We laugh and we joke,
    and we share in some fun.
    What’s not to love when the day is all done?


    by Michael Grove

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  25. Friends Exposed

    If you know me and I know you, 
    No need to do the tango;
    dancing gingerly trying to avoid 
    eggshells between the toes.

    Reciprocal warmth exudes naturally.
    Shrouded feelings or those dangling from
    the clothed appendage are not necessary;
    we know each other too well.

    ~Kelly
    http://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/

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  26. As always Michael, your poems are so open transparent,warm and such a pleasure to read.
    Thank you for a weekly treat of loveliness yet again.

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  27. You can find my friend readily at http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/ and on her poetry blog at http://imnotaverse.wordpress.com/


    A Friend Indeed

    My dearest friend, and I have many,
    is someone I met on line.
    Companion through the years of study,
    Blessed critiquer mine.

    Progress of friendship through poetry,
    her humour brightens my life.
    Our moods are often meshed in symmetry,
    with never a reason for strife.

    Sympathy exchanged by empathy
    and emailed word,
    cruel knocks healed so thoughtfully
    through delight in the absurd.

    Who knows where this life will take us
    on our separate ways
    but friendship such as this will make us
    happy in our different days.

    ReplyDelete