Poetry and Other Stories
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Birdine L Remaley Jr
Birdine L Remaley Jr was born in Allentown, PA on April 11, 1959. Currently, he resides in Whitehall, PA. He is a graduate of Duff’s Business Institute in Pittsburgh, PA. He has been writing since 2007.
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Poetry and Other Stories - Birdine L Remaley Jr
Poetry and
Other Stories
Birdine L Remaley Jr
Copyright © 2014 by Birdine L Remaley Jr.
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4931-8487-3
eBook 978-1-4931-8488-0
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Rev. date: 03/10/2014
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
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Contents
A Boy At Seven
A Gentle Breeze Sweeps Through My Room
A Graceful Journey
A Junkie’s Reprise
A Love Lost
A Love’s Meaning?
A Perfect Pill
A Silent Recognition
Again… Alone
Alone At The Top
An Obvious Deceit
Angel Inside My Head
Aunt D
Baiting The Baitor
Beginning
Christmas Youngblood
Dark Thoughts
Death Of A Bully: The End Of Johnny Buoy
For Nancy
Hello
I Know This Is Kinda Crazy
If I Could Have Played With The Band
If I Knew You Sooner…
Just Farewell
Lady Beheaded
Leaving To Begin
Longing
Mr. Thead
Noah Dowelsby
Ode To My Guitar
One Side Of Me
Passion So Deep
Perilous
Rainbow
Rushing The Rush
Saturday Night Reminiscing
Slow Ride From Home
Special Season
Stay Alive
The Morning After
The Old Man With The Shady Hair
The Parting Ways
The Rejected Prom Date
Thinking Of You Tonight
Through The Trees, I See
Time
Two As One
When does love become a special thing?
When The Sun Rises
Winter Monster
Dedication
This book is dedicated to a very precious lady, Nancy.
I could not have completed this without her support,
encouragement, and love. Because of her,
I have found my voice and calling.
A Boy At Seven
The sweltering sun beat down upon the field,
The overgrowth of grass became his shield.
A single corn husk, he clutched as he ran,
A brief moment in time before he’ll be a man.
Many suns would come, many will go;
Remembering this time is what he’ll know.
Encountering a hill, he chose to roll down,
Over and over upon the lush, green lawn.
Near the bottom, he came upon a lovely thing,
Something that touched his heart, made his voice sing.
It’s petals glistened in the sun; the flower a rose,
He plucked it gently and held to his nose.
He ran and ran like there would be no other,
Once home, he surprised his mother.
Her smile was wide; she patted his head.
I love you, mom
is all that he said.
A Gentle Breeze Sweeps Through
My Room
By Birdine L Remaley Jr
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room,
As I lay dying in the gloom.
The air is dank and yet so sweet,
Inviting death, I choose to greet.
I have been patient as I wait,
To leave this earth in such a state.
It once was said, Death Be Not Proud
,¹
For I am not seeking a crowd.
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room,
As I lay dying in the gloom.
Soft footsteps approach my death bed,
Eager to quell the tears I’ve shed.
My body tenses as I lay,
Awaiting the end of this day.
I have suffered far too long,
I need some peace just to be strong.
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room,
As I lay dying in the gloom.
From the darkness comes forth a hand,
Touching my head, I need to stand.
A voice whispers into my ear,
Follow me now
, is what I hear.
As I stand and leave this bed,
My blood thickens around my head.
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room,
As I go forward in the gloom.
A spectral force with strength so shy,
Guides me towards a light in the sky.
Through the window, in search of peace,
My life is given a new lease.
Just stay with me, you’ll have new life
,
I am promised despite the strife.
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room,
As I go forward in the gloom.
I see myself asleep inside,
What should I do? Where should I hide?
My mystery guide moves away,
Should I go so others can stay?
I’m not afraid of pending doom,
A gentle breeze sweeps through my room.
¹Death Be Not Proud, Holy Sonnet #10, is a metaphysical poem by John Donne, written around 1610 and first published posthumously in 1633. Death Be Not Proud is a memoir by American author John Gunther, taking its name from Holy Sonnet X by John Donne. The story was portrayed in a 1975 TV movie starring Robby Benson as Johnny Gunther and Arthur Hill as John Gunther.
A Graceful Journey
As the skies split apart,
To seize my broken heart;
And help me to depart
The shadows that I cart.
Release me to the light;
Somewhere far, somewhere bright.
A path that leads to right
And savors my delight.
Guiding me to the place
Where I can see my face,
And darkness, I erase;
Leaving my soul with grace.
A Junkie’s Reprise
Emerging from the murky, dense, blue, fog clouding my mind…
Finding myself crawling through the ashes of the night left behind;
Crumpled cans, broken fixtures, furniture strewn about,
Searching my memory for traces of any lingering doubt,
From the morass that occurred during this past night.
Brushing the dirt from my shirt by the window that allows in light,
Scanning the room for the remnants of any hiding soul,
And glimpsing the debris from the drugs left near the pipe-bowl,
No one is lurking, no one is here, everyone has made it out alive.
I clasp my hands to my face and feel the stubble, I will survive.
Tonight they will come again, staggering in from the dark of the street,
Climbing my stairs, laughing in the hallway they bring the drugs of the beat.
Their presence, their company, forgives all of their debt,
But honestly, I cannot believe that no one has died just yet.
A Love Lost
she appears at his door… a face that smiles… green eyes sparkling and shining… his anticipation mounts… tender feelings exchanged… a touch upon his cheek… a kiss he returns… recounting things that were shared… a close, intimate embrace… emotions that swirl… old demons loom… his body betrays… cascading tears flowing… a single trickling tear… all happiness is lost… questions without answers… she’s gone with the night… he’s lost within himself… uncrossed empty arms… loneliness abounds… a heart with a void… what does it all mean? . . . he wanders on
A Love’s Meaning?
Your voice is in my ears,
Your smile penetrates my soul;
My hands are on your hips,
It is my heart that you have stole.
A simple play on words,
Can only describe you as whole,
My mind is what’s spinning,
You’ve given me a better role.
I often wonder why
You continue to keep me close;
After all I have done
That makes me seem so bellicose.
I want you in my life
You complete me as you must know;
I wish you felt the same.
Where does this all go tomorrow?
A love is in my heart,
Your presence surrounds my soul.
Your face is in my hands,
Your beauty is what I extol.
Birdine L Remaley Jr
7192013-8182013
A Perfect Pill
You cannot possibly take all of that at one time, honey
, she says as she gently sits on the edge of the bed.
What do you mean
? he asks as he looks up from the book that he’s reading.
I mean, when you take just a half of the pill, it is good. We can make love for hours
.
"Baby, the doctor says I have a testosterone problem. I have less than 1/3 of the testosterone level in my bloodstream that I’m suppose to have. He recommends that to achieve my maximum sexual drive potential, I need to take a whole pill. I have to take 100