I remember you, when we went swimming in dad's pond.
I was not mud crawling!

I remember you, when you drove the wagon wheel over,
Jo's arm after she fell out of it.

I remember you when you threw my red fire truck out,
Of our burning house.

I remember you, when someone let the 1936 Plymouth roll down,
The hill into the frozen pond -two mules pulled it out.

I remember you and Rudy playing one on one basketball.
I remember you always beat him, and how you two,
Put that small tennis ball through the hoop,
Of an empty tin can-nothing , but net!

I remember you and the Monarch bicycle you bought,
After Rudy had bought a Schwinn bike.

I remember you calling out got a “carp” as you came from,
Fishing at the lake crawling with venomous snakes.

I remember you and the bricks you threw at the venomous snake,
That had climbed up the tree next to the house.
When you got home from school -he almost bit me as,
I was playing self catch in the Yard.

I remember you and the blue and white 1955 Ford,
With its broken drive shaft that you repaired.

I remember you and your beautiful bride named Sadie,
Whom you brought to Muskogee to meet us.

I remember you and your beautiful daughter Brenda,
Whom you sent us a picture of her at birth.

I remember you and how proud you were of Tim,
Joann's husband And how smart you said he was -
Truly he is. But, Joann is smarter and better looking.

I remember you and your IBM computer that sparkled my,
Children' interest in computers -that I have been,
Paying for every since.

I remember seeing you at the Mayo Clinic, and you,
Gave me the grand tour of the facility in your wheel,
Chair-thinking nothing phases this guy!

I remember you, I remember you my brother, I remember,
You are my mentor and hero! You did so much in spite of it all.
I never heard one word of “self-pity”!

Enjoy Heaven! My brother -you have earned it!

Copyright (c) 2007, Paul S Hickman, All Rights Reserved

Adjusted to seclusion
As the roar of tragedy
Struck our cities in rage
A deluge of gloom
Descended upon our hopes
Slowly embodied our grief
Into whimpers at dusk
Clandestine closets shattered
Complexities multiplied
Crowds watched in horror
As armed illiterates
drummed up rancor
mocked our foundation
with dirty complot flags
vilified our sanctuary
smote down our honor
hung dung on our trust
relentless knee on a neck
a massacre in parlors
gates opened to egotists
the bible held by a demon
we drew our slingshots
congregated in protest
cast our voices in hope
while a pandemic slew
molesting unmarked caskets
we scrutinized babies
lying naked in grime
cages of demolition
waiting for auction
hearts in calamity
marching tin soldiers
charging ruptured borders
lilies of the fields
crying for sustenance
while polluted rivers
sprout from fracking fields
requiring a funeral anthem
for a disoriented continent
Meantime the eagle sways
to a divergent cadence

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas
April 07, 2021

--Irene
Finally, off on the long journey to a familiar land.
Fearful, yet unafraid of the long wait to see her.
As I remember, surely not the same as I left, but will
Still caress the spirit with renewed freshness.
To see souls wondering, lost in a morass of ideas.
Seeking, a solution for the pain, that follows.
The poor judgments, grasping for answers from other
Lands. While looking far way, will not provide
The answer, nor the good life again.
Life passes, without clear thoughts or dreams
To shed light for ideas, as we trod into a
New epoch. As the cosmos rushes to
Escape that which is not to be escaped
And the windows slowly close....

Copyright (c) 2012 Paul S Hickman, All Right Reserved

A dream last night
40 Vietnam warriors
Sitting stoned
Around a fire
In Central Park
With the bombs
Still exploding
Inside their bowels
While seagulls jeered
Along the dead seacoast
A blackbird named Jonathan
Rose with a catfish
In its hungry mouth
I had a dream last night
A little black boy
Singing inside a burnt-out Chevrolet
Where have all the flowers gone
While the bar next door
Blasted the mantra
Let it Be

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas
April 03, 2021

The police chief said the shooter was having a bad day
A bad day?

That day a man, with rage in his heart and lust in his loins
Lashed out.
Unable to control himself, unable to restrain his desires
He let them loose-
He murdered you.
A bad day?

That man lives, breaths, eats, survives
While you live on in memories and stories.
He eliminated people because of his own failings, his lackings
Yet the police chief said the shooter was having a bad day
A bad day?

That man decided that his desires were stronger,
More important than your Right to
live,
breathe,
grow,
thrive,
to exist
A bad day?

He tried to erase that longing, erase you
But he won’t succeed
You will not fade into the past because we will remember you.
You were mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, friends
You were loved. You are loved.
You deserved more
You deserved longer
You deserved better
A bad day?

We will remember you for who you were,
Your loved ones will carry you in their hearts
You will live on as a piece of all of us.
We will keep you alive
Because you ARE so much more than some man’s
Bad day.

Alexandra Smith

We give daily
Our bodies nourish
Like the Earth
We give life
We strive to sustain
Our successes are few
The crowds don’t cheer
Our heroines leave
Often go unnoticed
Still we strive hard
With quiet laughter
Our hearts on brim
Love fills our chores
As we join together
One month a year
To give us credit
Our own praises
In the month of March
Just because it is spring
Once again we dance
As we are allowed to

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas
March 19, 2021

We used to listen to a song
From the Isley Brothers
Singing about soldiers
The four dead in Ohio
Now another tune is playing
Eight killed in Atlanta
Attacked, harassed, scapegoated
Murdered for being Asian
Blamed for a virus
Women shot in March
Sacrificed for Women's Month
Can’t you hear the drummers
Sounding like machine guns
Hear the mothers sighing
The little children crying
The world watches and moans

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas
March 18, 2021

Away from the dark cold blood of hate,
away from the evil eyes of racism,
away from the horrific path of xenophobia,
rests the promise land of our pledges,
where the roots of fraternity, sown with the clipped wings of the missing souls,
will grow into the hearts of hope,
to engrave in our building stones the calling beats of love.

Carlos Colao

You have been our gracious Japanese landlords.
Our Vietnam war zone protectors, friends and co-workers.
My Korean IT professional associate.
My Korean graphic illustrator for my poems.
You have been my former interned Japanese associate.

And we have trod with a host of acquaintances from Asian
Nations of Japan, Korea, Philippines, Vietnam, China, India,
Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Hong Kong.

All of which have been with the greatest respect towards us
And our family and our friends.

To have a vile deed doer martyr some of our Soulmates is
Sad and the work of the evil one who chose a weaker brainwashed
One to do his deed.

May their Memories be Eternal

© 2021-Paul S Hickman-All Rights Reserved

As the rays of the sun, eclipsed the night.
The journeys to a distant place starts.

And we came, some by car, some by plane,
Some by train, and some thought to walk.

Drifting in from the North, the South, the
East and the West. We are not strangers
Among strangers.

Gathering to share the wisdom, experiences
And the knowledge of thousands of years.

Guided by teachers of the ages, dedicated
To prepare and enlightening us for these
Times.

Oh, wise ones of the past. We struggle to
Meet your yesteryear's challenges. As they
Fade from our minds, and we fight to recover
Them. But are still misty, dim, and physically
Untouchable.

Our hearts, feeling faint as you slip away.
Regretfully, even the scolding and your words
Of wisdom are much needed - now.

But your spirits, still guides us through the
Unknown wilderness. Even though everything is
Changed, and not the way you left it or taught
Us.

Your voices will continue to guide and console
Us. As we stretch to reach the epitome of our
Essence.

With your desires in our minds and souls. We
Come closer to each other. And even though you
Are not here, we can feel your presence. As we
Depart once more to the cosmos.

As the time passes ... and you our ancestors cry
In the distance -with open arms.

Copyright (C) 1994 Paul S Hickman All Rights Reserved