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Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
Some will always be children 
And for them stories always simple
Little and Big, White and Black, Good and Evil 
Them and Us . . . plain and simple
It's mwe Oct 2018
Let's have another talk with this girl
about season
that could be a lesson
for her to not rely on
other people;
Because people are seasonal
One day they are summer
Bringing all the laughter
as the sea getting warmer
The next day they are autumn
Carrying the golden leaves as the item
falling down in the middle of poem
A later time they are winter
Blowing the winds together
getting more and more colder
colder, colder, than ever
Little by little they are spring
Together bloom as the sun rising
and the mother nature saying

Welcome, we are all redefining.
copy this from my blog. 19/10/18
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2018
.
Something beyond,
To climb into cloud,
Into the snows of purity,
To touch the rise of sun,
Golden as it bathes us,
To realize all is small
Underneath, and all
Is washed by streams
Of blood from the skies,
To reach the highlands,
Plateaus in the heavens,
This is the only poem,
A great blue mountain,
Something beyond,
For us to climb.
.
CRobinson Oct 2018
A Shepherd and his 100 sheep walk among the hills of Judea.
It is a warm pleasant day
not too hot
not too cold
It is the perfect day for grazing.
Ninety-nine of the Shepherds sheep have stuck together
But one has left to do his own thing.
He jumps and runs away from the herd
Hiding from the Shepherd
The Shepherd leaves the runs after the sheep
searching high
and
searching low
but then
no more than twenty yards away he see it
He bolts towards him
screaming
cheering
crying
He was filled with such excitement that it echoes through the hills.
He looks his sheep in the eyes
so happy that he found him.
With his eyes swelling up with tears
He gently picks up his sheep
puts him over his shoulder an carries him back to the ninety-nine.
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.
(Luke 15:4-6 NIV)
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2018
(Sonnet)

Good deer are gracing the trees,
Take communion in handed leaf,
Touch the soils with loving hoof,
In the tabernacles of the wood.

The owl cries for all souls eternal,
Deep in the shrouds of the vernal
That drape the newly born dying,
Beneath the solemn owls' crying.

And songbird has a psalm unread,
A parable in the twining branches,
Gifts of song foist lanyards of crop
Dear in old forest, this offered sup.

As blood seeping deep in the wood,
Sky washes away those who stood.
.
Specs Jul 2018
A young girl plants a garden,
Teaching herself through books.
She’s pulling out **** by ****,
Passing by the games and brooks.

She yawns as she rises each morn
To tend her plants so dear.
Pansies, daisies, daffodils,
Her love for them is clear.

She picks a bunch this morning,
A sweet-smelling bouquet,
And enters naught but joy into
The Fair’s gardening display.

The girl is young and inexperienced,
She knows this but she smiles.
For even if she doesn’t win,
Her flowers are seen for miles.

The day does end, as all days must,
The girl waits with giddy thoughts.
Surprisingly she’s awarded
A ribbon of forget-me-nots.

In a completely awed excitement,
The girl rushes down the way.
In fact she’s so exuberant
She near forgets her own bouquet!

She runs down her street into her home,
Pride gleaming in her eyes.
“Ma, Pa, I’ve worked so hard,
Guess what! I’ve earned first prize!

“All those early mornings and work
Helped me win my ribbon of blue.
I came home as quick as I could,
I just had to tell you!”

Her mother puts down her magazine,
Her father looks up from the news.
They stand up, looking at the flowers,
And, with a few words, extinguish her fuse.

“You silly girl, you should know better.”
“Oh honey, what did you do?”
“We raised you smarter than this, my dear,
You can’t put flowers in stew.”
Unsupportive parents raise anxious children
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2018
.
Crow in the sun so black,
You are blue, a dark shining
On the green innocent lawn.

Crow in the sun creeping,
On land you are awkward,
In the sky you are blotting.

Crow in the laze of the day,
Your eyes are unbalancing
In the gardens overgrown.

Crow in the sun so black,
You are shimmering dread,
On the green unkept lawns.
.
Devil Atticman Mar 2018
Said the sword as the eye,
"My edge is the sharpest,
Quickest maker of greatest numbers."

So the squid said:
"Oblivion is the lip of my beak,"
And he was the sharper.

The eye, as the sword, set to the forge,
Forfeit to visions of keenness,

And became claimant to a wicked edge
Which shaved him of shame;
Which loved most the whetstone,
So he set back to sharpening,
Growing so fine as to slice the stone in twain.

In recoil, he knocked upon his plane
And cut himself from his steadfast cradle,
And was pulled silently
Into timeless unbecoming.
There are great lessons to be learned from fables. Short, deliberate fairy tales are delicious to me. I hope to do those flavors justice.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2018
( Sonnet )

Good deer are gracing the trees,
Take communion in handed leaf,
Touch the soils with loving hoof,
In the tabernacles of the wood.

The owl cries for all souls eternal,
Deep in the shrouds of the vernal
That drape the newly born dying,
Beneath the solemn owls' crying.

And songbird has a psalm unread,
A parable in the twining branches,
Gifts of song foist lanyards of crop
Dear in old forest, this offered sup.

As blood seeping deep in the wood,
Sky washes away those who stood.
.
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