When bombs fall
The defense minister of Israel threatens to bomb
Lebanon back to the stone age
Last time a person said this his name was Hitler
If, the nice-mannered Putin had said this about
Ukraine, the otherwise polite Guardian with the
intrepid Marina Hyde would be in righteous rage,
followed by Jonathan Freeman saying that the
the remarks were taken out of context.
Our Jonathan is an intellectual who speaks softly
and has a great vocabulary
I read in a newspaper about the German migration
began 200 years ago to whiten the country
Having been to Brazil many times, I can't say if
the writing was successful, except for the chandler
whose first name was Hans and had red hair
Muslims leaving France because they cannot wear
the hijab, one notices they are not going to
say Pakistan, but to other western nations, that
allow wearing religious symbol
As for orthodox Jews, they were black coats
and fetching black hats, the enlightened skull caps
they also ignore the dress code
There are many Muslims in France the right-wing politicians wouldn't mind if they all left
Matthew Perry, American series. »Friends » 1969 2023
Bye, Bye, Chandler Bing,
You were the good friend,
Always ready to make you laugh,
You were Monica’s friend,
In the American series «Friends»
You will never grow old,
Your departure is so sudden,
It feels like a comedy,
Bye, Bye, Matthew Perry,
Your life was a fairy tale,
If we want to smile again,
Just think of you,
To your bright face,
In the cafe «central perk»
Bye, bye, Chandler Bing,
What a great idea to die in Los Angeles,
The city of angels, you were one,
Your place now is in our hearts.
I am behind
the large white wheel of an Oldsmobile.
I am a page ripped from a Raymond Chandler novel.
Clipped words curl close to my lips as hot as ash.
Dreamy eyes are cold tonight, there will be death
at the side of a desert back-road.
Revolvers will be shaken until blood spills from a mouth.
I park carefully until the cars white-walls
appear at the four corner’s of the night.
I am on a case, another Hollywood sex scandal.
I sit there smoking until dawn mists
swim into the valley.
Speeding squad cars blast past me;
the City Dicks are tough around here
and most are on the 'take.'
I let the engine idle wondering where
this all fits into a half-written plot?
“Lets move” I drawl to my suit rumpled self,
easing the rim of my fedora over weary eyes,
heading now to where flash-bulbs expose
what we do when the stars turn blue.
Failing to get enough sleep or
getting poor-quality sleep are
resulting to health hazard; it
is known fact, it makes us unfit
to discharge daily acts with cheer.
It's voluntary let’s admit
but unintentional, can’t quit.
Sleep deprivation is seen more
in young generation; appear
to ignore outcomes a bit.
Yet, avoid action, though aware;
to work pressure they do submit;
postpone sleep and needed health care;
fail to do best, though they commit;
timely sleeping they shouldn't ignore.
~X~X~X~
The Signature Sonnet is introduced by B Chandler of Allpoetry.
It’s another invented sonnet pretender in 3 quintains(15 lines)
It is metric, written in iambic tetrameter and rhymed,
Turned on only 2 rhymes aabba bbaab ababa
Volta not specified, but not excluded.
Pasted from http://poetscollective.org/everysonnet/signature-sonnet/
Thanks to Mr Lawrence Eberhart for the resources at Poets Collective Site.
WEST WIND 2
Be willingly wise with worthy ways as us Westerners
cos winter wind of woes wanders about
like a wandering Wolf windsurfing in wildlife.
Winter windup waves of weird wonder
wondrous enough to bring back Wayne Wonder
and wheeled at will the whole world with wows
which pose pridely like a waddy,
a wacko walking within waves of woes;
Whatsoever west wind wagged we wandered
as we become wanners, wearing wan expression,
warmly staring like a Wagga Wagga wading-bird.
Welcome was the words of windy west
as winsome breeze wapped my window and
wafted her sensuous witty wet perfume,
into my wide Afro-Western nostrils
waving wheats and weeds at will,
twas a whopping war wafture waxing souls warmly.
Why would wingless wild west wind worries
yet still, wags us with it's wondrous waves,
withdraws our eardrums with her windy drums
and whithered the plantation of peace
from the furrow of the fainthearted?
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Alliteration/Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April 2021.
STARING DEATH IN HIS CORNER
I'm not the best pound for pound
boxer trading blow for blow
This bout won't end in this 36th round,
battling from the cradle from the set go
when my eyes refuses to behold life's wound,
uninterested in deciphering life's code show,
from when my wailing became a sound,
this boy baby became life's Eskimo
And you death, stare a brother in the face.
Despite the scar from the Diviner's torment,
He who bare in hand the enamor of grace,
The Father of all and the master of your fate,
you came for The son all to number his days.
But this in-ring soldier is born to fight & be great.
Pain you bring is sweetener enroute my eternal place.
IF I FEEL PAIN, I AM ALIVE
surviving like the edge of a knife.
IF I AM ALIVE, I CAN FIGHT,
triumphing over thee day & night.
IF I CAN FIGHT, I CAN WIN
(while trumpet of my victory keeps blowin')
because that's what Victor's do.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April, 2021.
Saint James the Fisherman Day
Rohr family was nicest and kindest;
They had found it so hard to resist;
High point there,
They would share;
A new Episcopal Church does exist.
James Thomas Horn
Member of St. James Episcopal
As well as a retired veteran
Bolivia, NC
Church is currently located on
highest point in Shallotte, NC.
We are very thankful to Rohr family.
Messed up. Property was donated by
Chandler Rourk.
https://www.geni.com/surnames/roark
Nellie B. Chandler
1897-1911
There I am.
Here I am now.
I am the six year old girl
Behind the glass window
That wide open wedge to the north
From inside my classroom there
At Evergreen school, ‘neath
The towering ascending elm trees there,
Shrouded in immense shade.
I am standing and staring there
Daydreaming and yearning and desiring
For my mama and papa
To come get me here,
Wishing and waiting, waiting and hoping
For them to come get me and take me home.
I hate it here!
I hate school!
My forward gaze to the north
Extends out forever as the moon
stretches its beams, outward outward, and beyond
The limitless fantastic scenes in black space.
I see out there to the north
I see four faces in the distance there,
Friendly faces, familiar faces
Of family and friends, all
Now asleep with me here,
Here in the cool calm tombs
Of Mt. Olive Cemetery.
There I am.
Here I am now.
Mama. Papa. Come get me!
I hate it here!
I am waiting…waiting…waiting…
Shrouded in immense shade.
Chandler n.wilson misses his girlfrend , hooz parents made her step away!
Chandler n.wilson wants a new girlfrend , sum one hoo will stay !
Loneley is a relative term . Lezbeins hoo want babeys are loneley if thay can't
Fynd any sperm ! Sum people doent like getting stuck with splinters !
Sum people doent like the Chicago winters !
Agenders are the feemales hoo have cut off all thair hair !
Sum of them wair lipstick ! But they doent use any nair !...
To the Mothers and the Fathers
(for David, Patti and Chandler)
By Franklin Price
To the mothers and the fathers
For the children you have raised
Who went to the Marine Corps
One and all of you be praised
Parents left at home
Were to remain be left behind
Thoughts for the child who left them
To grow in body and in mind
Was a difficult decision
Parents and child had to cope
Would not be physically together
To climb the wall and slide the rope
Mentally and physically
The child had to be in shape
For the stress and strain of drilling
And to stand up to the tape
When the Crucible was over
And the last test had been passed
The Eagle, Globe and Anchor
Would be your child's at last
A child no longer standing
For a grown up now is seen
One who has earned the title
Of United States Marine
Hot Air
The name of that wind is Satana
It’s hot and it’s dusty and dry,
Don’t call the wind Santa Ana
In error, for that is a lie.
Saint Ann the mother of Mary
Is remembered in so many ways
But not for a wind that blows from the desert
And makes your skin and eyes craze.
In Nineteen O’ One a reporter
In error rushed his dispatch in
He wrote Santa Ana the rotter,
It is he that committed the sin.
The name is Vientos de Sataná
The wind of the devil that’s hot,
A weather man called it Santana
But that is a name it is not.
So we are left here in confusion,
Raymond Chandler back in ’thirty eight
In “Red Wind” to Santa Anas made allusion
As conditions the local folk hate.
The wind blowing in from the passes,
Curls your hair, makes nerves up tight,
Drying the air and scorching the grasses
And everyone’s edgy all night.
Manic Dancing.
By Ian Van D. Chandler
(The closing line:)
The boy with glasses always tries to see further
no matter where the satellite flies.
Like the girl that found his wings upon the loudest factory.
Never show a horizon before the sun rise,
Cause they never let the groom see the bride.
The angry girl beats the flowers with rusted knives.
she finds pleasure in the lightning strike,
But cries
At the
Thunder
Clap.
Beyond the house she knew, the statues she followed,
the windmill sung her favorite song.
(La
La
La)
Before photos,
I drew her picture,
And painted her pretty.
Like fiction.
We all wander, and pander
Thoughts of the manic dancer.
And the smallest objects sit,
In the largest fields. spinning.
Changing which way the wind blows:
(La
La
La)
she waits for the lightning.
(The opening line:)
The boy watches.
Mother you,
Mother you so beautiful your are.
Mother you,
Sweet mother you are to me precious.
Mother you, Mother you are,
Mother you are the world to me.
Mother your gracious, Mother you are.
Mother you have always been my super star.
Mother you, Mother you are.
Mother you are now resting in the arms of Jesus.
Mother you I miss you so very much.
Mother you are my mommy, Oh how I love you so very much.
Mother how much in sorrow I am left in this world without you.
Mother you, mother you are to me.
Mommie you are, my mother you are.
Mother I will always love you.
My Mother,
Peggy Ann Chandler.
You are you.
God Bless You
I will always miss
and love you.
High strung
Passionate
Perfectionist freak
Manic
Compulsive
Meticulous
Intense
High maintenance
HIGH MAINTENANCE
MONICA
Yes….I see a lot Monica in me. “You think I’m high maintenance???? Tell me how. Make a list and we will go over it POINT by POINT!” She spouted this out while trying to convince Phoebe otherwise. Well, I’m high maintenance because I feel, extremely!! Perfectionist!!! (Melancholy/Sanguine with a touch of crazy!) When God created me….He placed emotional sensors in every single cell of my body, it seems….INTENSE! Well, yes, it CAN be hard to handle….But listen, LISTEN to what Chandler says to Monica that makes him like the most amazing guy on Friends. “Yes, you ARE high maintenance, but that’s ok because….I like maintaining you!” You wouldn't exactly consider that some sentence that is dripping with passion and romance, but wow! That would make me FLY! :)
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Six wonderful people very bright and young
shared a cramped apartment...
is that because they couldn't afford the rent,
or they loved to have fun?
What a hilarious circus, if they had teamed up!
They got angry, but still apologized and made up;
they seemed to have many problems,
some more complex than the others.
Rachael was very pretty and cool,
Phoebe was so naive and not too witty,
Lisa was refined and very beautiful,
Joey was a womanizer extremely funny,
Chandler was the sarcastic guy who loved sensual Monica,
and Ross was the nice dude who was embarrassed by Erotica.
These talented actors have entertained us
for long years fascinating us with their charms;
they were a close family rather than good friends who struggled...
they must have felt deep sadness when the final episode was aired.
Written by Andrew crisci
for Michael Falotico's contest,
" Ryhme Me An Old TV Show "
Chosen show: Friends
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