Artist John Everett Miliais
let storyline comrinto play
Youth growing old a constant theme
often set as a dream
William Madox Brown from Calais
a colleague to PRB's Everett Millais
The ' Last of England' so evocative
making the pathos live
"Before You Speak...THINK!"
T-is it true?...
H-is it helpful?...
I- is it inspiring?...
N-is it necessary?...
K-is it kind?,,,?
***This notice was put up outside the office of Kelsey, our Assistant Community Director and our Leasing Officer. At our independent Disabled 55+/senior South Everett, Washington's apartment complex.
Grace and Peace be unto all of you!
All of my love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea/ October Country
June 28, 2022
The Autumn sun shone with golden magic
The warmth of the embrace was seen from afar
As I stood along the fence in the valley below
Inside the house are tales akin to tragic
A son had volunteered, never returned from war
The brother, when burgled, lost a limb & elbow
The mother took a job in the town's law practice
Came home too tired, to enjoy bird or flower
Tend her husband, then disabled son in back bungalow
This is the story of every house, of Al & Beatrice
Clark & Diane, Everett & Flo, by year, month, hour!
The house glowing under God's sun, hides tales of woe
In that lonely room on the third floor
overlooking the town of Everett,
a town on the outskirts of Boston,
I fell asleep while murmuring a prayer
dreaming of mom through many a night;
in those dreams distance
became an absence,
a devoted brother and son
longing for mother and sisters...
cried remembering their sweetness!
In that lonely room on the third floor,
I wrote long letters with emotional words...
telling mom I wanted to desperately come home;
and that room was a prison filled with horror
and not getting enough rest, I hid under the linen sheets
fearing ghosts and listening to their horrendous sounds:
what I left was the ideal home,
where I could feel motherly love!
In that lonely room
shut to smoggy air that clogged my lungs,
nights had no glittering stars,
only cloudy and bleak skies...
sulkier than absurd thoughts
crossing a youngster's mind;
did I deserve solitude,
loneliness and gloom?
What was the purpose to seclude
myself and miss someone's human touch?
All those years were extremely tough
without a comforting hand
touching mine and assuring me I was loved!
Lessons
The compos compels our force and direction.
But still we stop where we start.
Eternal rotating, repeating mistakes and never learning to part
Ignoring the grief in their voices with lessons spoken and taught.
Striving for a purpose and reason, ignorant of the fight they fought.
The pain the suffering of children, innocent so new and bright
Almost becoming an adult and only learning to fight
Young blood alive in their veins, it spills to the ground so cold
The right to be free is taken with no hope of growing old
It’s baleful to know when our spirit is gone, suffering continued again
The perpetual pendulum ticking to the beat of a distant drum
A hope for the future to understand, we only need to be bold
Its up to the individual to start a new belief
For the people to gather together in support to stop this eternal grief
By Terri Everett
In memory of ANZAC
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Background of the word: This 45-letter word was coined in 1935, by
the president of the National Puzzlers' League of the United States, Everett E. Smith, in a presentation about the ever-growing length of medical terms.
He coined it to show how ridiculously long medical terms had gained acceptance.
It was created by stringing together a series of Latin stems that,
taken together, could conceivably describe an inflammatory lung disease caused by the inhalation of fine silica dust, a real disease already known popularly as black lung and technically called pneumoconiosis or silicosis.
Source:: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Untitled
Artificial long word said
to mean a lung disease caused
by inhaling very fine
ash, sand and quartz dust.
~x~
“I am only one, but I am one,”
part of a quote from works of Edward Everett Hale.
He goes on to say that as one he cannot do everything
but as one he can do something.
He then went ahead and wrote “The Man Without a Country”,
and other memorable works.
As a writer and poet I cannot say everything
but I can say something.
I may not be remembered by everyone,
but if I am remembered somewhere by someone, it is something.
A friend of mine visiting another friend I do not know,
( she lives in another state where I have never been.)
noticed a poem attached to her refrigerator with magnets.
She was surprised to see that I was the author.
Her friend could not remember where she had found it.
However, it had touched her enough that she saved it
and placed it where she could read it again.
I was surprised and honored.
I had actually said something that had some meaning
to someone, at least momentarily.
For me, that’s truly something!
Written for "Your Free Verse Precept" contest sponsored by John Freemn 3rd place
Written for
Alexandre, the young alpinist from a southern France,
attaches crampons to his tough climber's booths,
to ascend the dangerous ridges of Mount Rose,
and with the same ice axe, he climbed Mount Everett!
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
Her innocence in daisy plaits ,displayed
Such naievty was so soon betrayed,
Touching romance' nettle brought much pain
When discarded,by his disdain,
Tears welled upon her pillow,
Forsaken love long wears the willow-
A broken heart,no words could save,
Death's red poppy,petals her grave.
Inspired by Ophelia by John Everett Millais
http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=9506
O Brother Where Art Thou?
Delectable nostalgic film:
Toe tapping “can” song
I am a Man song
Journey without seeking the treasure
Cows can’t swim, roofs measure
Little people push brooms
Fiancés deck grooms
Politicians run out on a rail
Some dance, with their tail
Baby face throws Bi-polar
Getaway car-high roller
Sirens sing then whisk away
Leaving toads behind that day
Blind rail traveler foretells all
But the rail car scene, Oh man- that fall!
“Kin is kin”- “gopher Everett”?
“Dapper Dan man”, with a hair net
Some scenes I’d cut
Not necessary they put
But otherwise a great dime
About three men “not” doing time
I’ve seen it about 4 times, still singing the songs
An
essay
in the style
pre-raphelite-
art
P
R B -
tale of a
decameron
night
Lorenzo & Isabella by john Everett Millais of
P R B
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-Raphaelite_Brotherhood
http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/online/pre-raphaelites/lorenzo.asp
Freedom comes from the one who left..
and I beckon the audience who stands before me,
and I am standing here in the deepest ocean ,
can you see me ,
I will never drown,
I am the power you tried to sustain,
and I...
turn my back on you as you call my name ,
and I ask my audience can they keep up with me?
who will be my next intention?
for I am a virgin to love,
a whore to life ,
come share my leather secrets,
can you get past my disguise ?
I dare you to try !
Shattered glass might scar you left from broken hearts
but I can mend you ,
If you can stand with me in my ocean
if you can catch me
if you can keep me
blood and bone
and don't forget sweat
swallow me
do you see me ?
As I stand here bare...
scared...
empty...
power..
My audience...
written -Amy Everett
9-29-08
innocent eyes look up to mine,
chubby little arms wrap around my neck and you whisper goodnight,
a kiss on the cheek,
the grace of your sweet breath,
the innocence in your voice,
your heart beating next to mine.....
and it is then the nightmares of yesterday escape me and I remember why I want to live...
It is you , I wake up for, It is you I die for, It is you I pretend there are no monsters for...
you are the alphabet in my soup on the rainy days... and the rainbow colors on the grayest
page....
You are my love, Darling.... I love you my son.... Austin.... 9-14-08
written by-Amy Everett
Listening to -Falling Slowly
Soundtrack to Once
Displaced
shattered
disfigured.....
aching on the ground
I fall into the stream of disregard
forgotten by all
I thought held me
in contempt of heart...
brittle skeletons
left to move
fast through vast
dreams and memories
left to be stranded, to be strong
and I wonder
can I do it
and be proud
of who I am
of who I was
before you
branded me
bruised me
before you stole my generations
before you knelt in front of me eye to eye
and stole my crown like a wolf in sheep's clothing
and I stand bare,
as you walk this earth…
a martyr with everything,
plus my strength,
my heart and all it had to give
you walk
and the smile
you ripped from my face!
do you wear it proud?
skeletons in your closet now
how close do they lay
to the surface of your skin
as you sleep at night?
This pool of abandonment
drowns my last breath of life
and I try to walk
bent
but I am not dead-written by-amy everett
written for CT
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