like you

like you by phil burns

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

like you

slender legs in summer dresses
saunter past as cute girls do
but of all the pretty swaying ladies
no one just no one walks like you

snow white teeth and rose red lips
sparkling eyes of green or blue
mouths that light the darkest moments
but no one no one smiles like you

warm hands caressing sweet and gentle
the passion that ignites anew
the thrill that floods our every contact
no one but no one loves like you

the melodies of joyful people
the happy sounds that gurgle through
from children lovers mothers old folk
but no one no one laughs like you

moments mystical and magic
mermaids shown and known as true
rainbows captured by your soft kiss
no one fills my dreams like you

slender legs in summer dresses
sparkling eyes of green or blue
the thrill that floods our every contact
but no one breaks my heart like you

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Scotland Blues

The Saltire, or St Andrew’s Cross by anelephantcant

November 30th is St Andrew’s Day, Scotland’s official national day.
Click here to hear the poet read these words to his homeland (with apologies for the ongoing problem with his voice):

Leaving Scotland Blues

Across the loch into the glen
Settling low on hillside heather
The morning mists moisten his eyes
Brush his heart like snow white feather
This love he knows
Will never go
Leaving Scotland forever

Across one more majestic bridge
Into the sleeping city centre
Soft drizzle falls like angels’ tears
A fitting start to this adventure
This doubt he knows
Will never go
Leaving Scotland forever

And she looks from a window there
With no more words to say
She too breaks slowly from within
As she sadly turns away

The lowlands pass beneath him now
The rolling hills abandoned
The verdant slopes are dull and grey
With sorrow and with chagrin
This ache he knows
Will never go
Leaving Scotland forever

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San Francisco

San Francisco by anelephantcant

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

San Francisco

I met her
once upon a time
in San Francisco
the city
of love and peace
and for the time
that we spent
together
my heart
to my surprise
filled
with love
and my soul
at long last
was at ease

I felt
that I’d known her
forever
since dinosaurs
wandered the earth
her eyes
held the mysteries
of all time
I believed
she was there
at the birth

she was
a flower
that blossomed
in sunshine
while I’m
a creature
of winter
and rain
so
I wept
when
she told me
I must go
but
I promised
I’d come back
again

I wept
when
she told me
I must go
and
I never
went back there
again

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The Great Peace

The Unknown Soldier

Click here to hear the author read his words:

The Great Peace

The pain surprises me.
The rain falls steadily, but it is not the cause of the pain.
The wind blows briskly, but it is not the cause of the pain.

I look around the small cemetery, one out of around 940 in France and Belgium.
It is the cause of my pain.
It contains the graves of 1262 British, 4 Canadian and 29 German soldiers and airmen.
There is no segregation by rank or nationality, and each grave is immaculately tended.
They are arranged in chronological order of death.
Think about that, just for a moment.

The peace is in sharp contrast to those bloody days 100 years ago.
The days when this part of Northern France was the world’s battlefield, bringing men from all parts of the planet to die here.

The Great War.
I almost smile at the oxymoron.
But find I cannot.
Because of the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat.

the great war they said
was the war to end all wars
flowers grow in tears

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the maple leaf

a leaf by anelephantcant

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

Maple Leaf

I have the Maple Leaf you gave me
the day we went to Lighthouse Park
the trees were high the sun was low
but with you there was no dark

I have the Maple Leaf you gave me
when we walked round English Bay
for some the rain fell steadily
for me the sky was never grey

I have the Maple Leaf you gave me
when we admired the Gastown Clock
but time had no real meaning
when we laughed and danced and talked

I lost the Maple Leaf you gave me
on that long gone autumn day
carried on a gentle breeze
like your love it slipped away

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ghosts of love

ghosts by Phil Burns

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

ghosts of love

Hallowe’en is a night full of magic
when candles in turnips shine bright in the dark
nervous folk fear spirits will venture forth
but the ghosts are only real in my heart

Hallowe’en is a night full of laughter
children dress up and go out in disguise
they find chocolate and old-fashioned pastimes
and the ghosts are only seen by my eyes

Hallowe’en is a night full of mystery
witches ride broomsticks and slide down moonbeams
warlocks conspire to make mischief
but the ghosts only live in my dreams

Hallowe’en is a night of festivity
of parties and games and great fun
when the oldest and youngest all celebrate
and the ghosts are still here though you’re gone

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Scottish Hallowe’en

Hallowe’en by Phil Burns

Click here to hear the words read aloud:

Hallowe’en

nae bairn can contain their excitement
as the end of October draws near
each wee brain fair itches
as they think about witches
it is the scariest night of the year

aye Hallowe’en is a night of fear-filled frolics
as long as you ca’ canny
ye might see a de’il
or a bogle for real
if you keek in each impenetrably dark nook and cranny

some traditions have lasted forever and ever
some changes we find quite surprising
in the US it’s neat
to say trick or treat
but in Scotland for the past 500 years we call it guising

there’s ay laughter and games for the wee yins
with treacle scones hung on a loosely-strung string
just mind your thrapple
when dookin’ for apples
in case a wild wean wi’ a sharp-pronged fork takes a swing

everyone carves out a lacklustre lantern
we use turnips but some folk use pumpkins
we may be old fashioned
but please show compassion
and don’t confuse us with near-extinct country bumpkins

though it’s now all modern and commercialised
we aw continue to do things we’re no’ supposed tae
it’s still the nerve-numbing night
that causes face-freezing fright
when we walk wi’ all sorts of gruesome ghouls and ghastly ghosties

Hallowe’en is the annual haunt of the bogeyman
he frightens the bravest bairns out of their hat-disguised heads
he has never been seen
but does that really just mean
he is hiding patiently under your bed?

*Glossary of Terms:

aye – yes
ca’ canny – take care
bogle – a bad thing, a spectre, a goblin
keek – look
ay – always
thrapple – throat, windpipe
dookin’ – ducking, trying to capture from a large basin or bath
wean, bairn – child
tae – to
bogeyman – boogeyman (USA), very bad (hopefully) imaginary person

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