SPEAKING IN CODE: YET HATE IS STILL HATE

YOU KNOW, MANY OF US CAN SEE RIGHT THROUGH THE THINLY DISGUISED CODE WORDS; WE’VE BEEN THERE.

WHEN WILL THOSE SMALL-HEARTED, BULL-HEADED REPUBLICANS STOP THEIR HATING?

 

NOW, SUSAN RICE’S COMMENTS DIDN’T SEND US INTO THOSE NEEDLESS, EXPENSIVE WARS.

[DID THEY??]

GROW UP, GUYS…

L.P.-G.,M.D.

WHO CALLS THE FINAL SHOT?

“SOMBER  R A I N S”   

SING

  (THIS  NOVEMBER )

  

They seldom, [if ever], ‘SMILE’ …

A Thief Amid the Rains

Written by Lisa Porter-Grenn

    YOU WISH TO STEAL THE SCENE, NOVEM’ ?

I trust you know the course!!

October trails three steps behind,

While you proceed, “full force”…

 HENCE, YOU DECIDE

THE PATCHWORK  PLAN,

Of fading browns to gold;

This sun-spent show,

Needs room to grow,

   Before chilled rains take hold.

  ALL ‘PRAY’ YOU LAY WILD WINDS TO REST,

And tie up life’s loose-ends;

The ‘Spirit’s of the Night’ trade bets

That you and Earth stay friends.



 

‘FIRST FROST’ PARADES HOPE’S

 *HARVEST MOON*

As slatterned-skies grow long,

Reflections mirror a gosling’s wing;

November tides roll strong

“WHO CALLS THAT FINAL SHOT? ”

I muse,

      (As Venus pales from view)…

How strange(!!)

 I thought ‘I’ held those cards !

Yet now, (We know )

‘Tis “YOU ”.

But nothing lasts forever…even cold November rain…

nor the ugly vestiges of Sandy (or so we dearly hope).

WE ARE WOMEN …

And we vote with our hearts…

And with our minds…

 

And with our conscience…

 

 

And when we do, we will vote for our greatest supporter: Barack Obama

 

 

VOTE !!!!

AS SANDY SLIPS INTO THE FULL MOON PHASE:

I AM REMINDED OF THIS…

 

       *Full Moon* by Robert Hayden

No longer  the throne of a goddess to whom we pray,
no longer the bubble-house of childhood's
tumbling Mother Goose man,

This soulful  empathetic moon ascends--
the brilliant challenger of rocket experts,
the white hope of communications men.

Some I love who are dead
were watchers of the moon and knew its lore;
planted seeds, trimmed their hair,

Pierced their ears for gold hoop earrings
as it waxed or waned.
It shines tonight upon their graves.

And burned in the garden of Gethsemane,
its light made holy by the dazzling tears
with which it mingled.

And spread its radiance on the exile's path
of Him who was The Glorious One,
its light made holy by His holiness.

Already a mooted goal and tomorrow (perhaps)
an arm’s base, a livid sector,
the full moon dominates the dark.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEs2iaYh11w

www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHTTSaCYjGw 

THUS YIELDING TO AUTUMN'S FINALITY

“MARGARET”, ONCE AGAIN…

Written by Lisa Porter-Grenn, M.D.

Margaret yields to grieving

Over nature’s gold now leaving.

Leaves, like the sands of time,

“YOU”

Cannot alter,

Come now … [CAN  you?]



 

 

 

 

See… should bare limbs bring candor,

Parting earthly veils that pander;

By and by,

Through cautious sighs,

Though dreams of winsome treasures lie:

She thus grieves

[And knows why].

 

 

Still, no matter what the name,

Fall resumes its coldest game.

No mouth, [no], nor words

Can half exclaim,

Why fallow trees

All bend the same.

 

  ‘Tis the blight our souls were born for;

It’s life’s sweetness that we mourn for.