₦airaland Forum

Ishilove:
Brighter days are ahead, Tex, I promise you. What I can't promise is if that hollowness will ever be filled, but the sadness will eventually stop reigning in the hollow place.

My sincere condolences, dear.

Thank you Ishi.

There is a hollow place in my heart
Where silence echoes off the walls
And sadness reigns.

Thank you harlos

I wrote this poem for my brother Lee when he kept putting off the stem cell transplant. It is here on this thread. This is my tribute to a brother whom I love dearly. <3

He was always "Bucky" to me. We were so close growing up. I followed him around like a puppy when we were kids. He probably hated having his little sister around. As teens we often sat around a fire, or lay under the stars and talked for hours.

The years and the miles got between us, and that closeness faded into the background somehow. When we did get together though, he always had that "Bucky" smile for me, and that contagious laugh we all loved. When it was time to say goodbye he'd get serious, put his arm around me and say, "I love you Geraldine."

I loved it when he called me Geraldine. No one else called me by my given name. It was our thing. We were "Bucky and Geraldine", best buds and confidants. The way he said it always brought me back to our childhood. It made me feel special, like that bond we had was still there.

My whole world is blue tonight.

************

The Stars Are Blue Tonight

We used to lie beneath the stars
And talk about our hopes and dreams.
They shined bright for us so many nights,
As we talked about our plans and schemes.

Our minds still innocent.
Not yet jaded...all seemed possible.
Our hearts reflected the lights in the night sky.
The world still our oyster...still noble.

On those nights...we were the best of friends.
So alive! All was well.
Cocooned in a world of our own,
To you my secrets tell.

In those days we created a bond,
A connection never to be broken.
The links between hard as steel...unbreakable!
A love shared, but not always spoken.

Experience and life have separated us.
Our paths divergent it seems.
To each a life of our own.
No longer together under those radiant beams.

It's always been me and you.
Please let me share your fight.
Without you the gloom sets in
And the stars are blue tonight.

I love you Bucky ❤️
13 November 1962 - 10 September 2017



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_5Mbn9rEx4

1miccza:
He will be healed in Jesus name, he's gonna be okay

Amen! Thank you

PDPGuy:
Hope that your brother eventually recovers

Thank you

1miccza:
Oh nooo!! so sorry, is he improving now? How are you holding up?

He is a fighter. He's hanging in there.

1miccza:
I've been here and there to see the queen? How about you? Lolz

I've been in Dallas at hospital with my older brother. He has leukemia. I gave him a stem cell transplant and He is not doing as well as we hoped.

1miccza:
Yellowww!!!!

Hello. How have you been?

Kormforth:
I wish to join as a student

JigsawKillah

Just something to help get you going:

Starting with Little Things: A Guide to Writing Poetry in the Classroom
from Starting with Little Things: A Guide to Writing Poetry in the Classroom

from Chapter 5, “Turning Abstractions into Concrete Images”

Exercise: Images of Feelings

Make a list of emotions on the board: love, hate, jealousy, embarrassment, fear, courage. More. Beginning each sentence with one of these words, write similes or metaphors so that these feelings appear as something you can see, hear, taste, touch or smell. Avoid comparing one feeling to another (love is like happiness). Write a poem about one feeling, using several similes. Or use a different feeling in each sentence. Another possibility of to begin each sentence with “When”; for example, “When (something happened), I was as (happy, sad, angry) as (image).”
Jealous
Jealous is like a planet watching
a shuttle go swiftly past it.
Jealous is like a American bomber looking
at a jet speeding away.
Jealous is like a broken down car
watching a future car in a race.
-Jeff Lewis


When my goldfish died
I was as sad as a mixedup
word trying to get spelled right.


“Self-Image”

Part of our self-image, the picture we have of ourselves, comes from our sense of place: where we were born, where we’ve grown up and explored, places we dream about. We feel comfortable in some places; in others, we don’t. Even within a fairly small place, such as a house, we may identify more with certain rooms, or corners, or objects – the individual parts of a scene. Such subjective feelings are important to our sense of individuality, as well as to our sense of community with people who share our feelings. Learning to recognize ourselves in the world around us is a step toward self-knowledge and maturity that has always been important in literature.

Exercise: Identification

Thinking of your own “roots,” write a poem titled “Born in (California, New York, Chicago, Bend, Redmond).” Begin each sentence with “I am.” Pick out images that come first to mind. Expand sentences; let the reader see as much as possible. If you are the Golden Gate Bridge, what else can you say about yourself? The bridge boats pass under on their way to China? The bridge always choked with traffic? The bridge shining golden in fog? Tell exactly what you see.

Or make a list of different things you might be. If you re an animal, what are you doing? (If a cat, are you sleeping by the fire, chasing a bird, running from a dog, climbing a tree and getting stuck?) If you re an object, where are you – in a kitchen, a bedroom, street, hospital, factory, gutter, cave? What element of nature, time of day, or day of the week? Students should sense a wide variety of possibilities, and should try for different opening words: Yesterday I was, Today I am, Some days I am, Once I was.
Myself

Examples:

I am a mountain
very snowy and waiting
to be climbed.
I am a big white horse
waiting to be ridden.
And I am the wind blowing
all the seeds.
I am just now being born.
– John Bard

I am the clock that is never wound.
I am the fish that is out of the sea.
I am like a frog that is out of order.
I am the sun that is rain.
– Stuart



You look at me
I melt like snow in the golden sun
When you talk to me
I’m closed like a door in a jail
But deep inside I want to tell you
all my wishes and fears
You have to realize that I’m like a book
You have to read between the lines.
– Yvonne M.