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“” Another poem written while in China during a down pour that, I was sure, would wash away the mountain where the residencies were situated. “”

I sit at my window so large and bright, looking out at the night.
I see the stars.
I see the moon.
Its glow is giving a soft warm light.
Then…I see dark clouds moving north, across the sky.
They block the starlight from my eye.
I fear the rain is coming.
I fear a storm is brewing.
I see lightning flashes and hear thunder crash.
It’s sound is loud.
It’s rumble strong.
A storm is brewing.
It will not be long.
I sit at my window so large and bright, looking out at the night.
I no longer see the stars.
I no longer see the moon.
It’s glow no longer gives a soft warm light.
Now… I see dark clouds moving north across the sky.
They block the starlight from my eye.
Time passes.
The wind no longer whispers a soft song.
It has changed to a mournful cry.
The trees shimmer and shake.
The branches bend and break.
The leaves hold tight, tremble, quiver and quake.
The calm of the night is gone.
I look again at the clouds so dark, stirring from the south.
My heart beats fast.
I begin to fear.
Will the night be long?
Is daylight near?
Just then the wind became quiet, returns to sleep.
The rain begins to fall.
It’s sound is a murmur, soft and light.
Yes I think it will rain all night

“” While in China I stayed at an artist colony as a Fellow. It was a great experience and I met many great people. I was asked at one time if I was the artist fellow? She was a beautiful girl. “”
Are you the artist?
She asked of me.
An artist who paints pictures for all to see.

An artist who can draw the shades of grey, the insipid clay,
who can draw the mountains high and children at play?
Who can paint wise old men and fields of rice,
babes in arms of women so nice?

Are you the artist?
She asked of me.
An artist who paints pictures for all to see.

An artist who can see the life in my eyes,
who can see all the blues in the sky?
Who can draw the line so straight and fine,
who can show the heat of red and the cool of blue,
Who can paint the love, I feel for you?

Are you my artist she asked of me

“” This poem was written using the sound or Robert Service. It is a story, that I am sure has happened to many a young man. “”

What words did she say? On that cold lonely day,
When to her I came that year.
The skies were gray and the cold wind had its way.
She held me close to her heart, without fear.
She was deep in my arms; I was enjoying her charms.
I could not believe it was happening to me.
This moment was mine; I floated on cloud nine.
My heart was filled with glee.
I remember we were deep in the park, Warm in Dad’s Buick Skylark.
When she pledged her eternal love supreme.
Now this day was special, without demands of committal.
I was sure it was just a dream.
I opened her coat and felt just past her moat.
And reached the place where men wanted to play.
I waited for resistance but she let me go the distance.
She did nothing to keep me at bay.
I knew if I stopped now, She might disallow.
Leaving my desires to freeze in the wind.
So I kept to the plan, over her body I ran
I could tell she was going to give in.
The two of us that night were soon out of sight.
The windows were filled with steam.
To a slow rhythm song we moved quickly along.
This was better than eating ice cream.
Buttons were ripped and soon I was stripped.
And committed to following through.
But my conscience awoke and the rhythm broke.
I paused, and thought of the Dad that I knew.
His advice in my mind, spoke to remind.
His voice deep in my brain did sound.
Be sure of your life with her as your wife.
Before you lay her down.
Now I thought of these words though the timing absurd.
I couldn’t get them out of my mind.
I looked at her longing face, her hand firmly in a place.
I thought she would never find.
My future loomed in my eyes; her body was so beautiful in size.
I gave in easily to accept my plight.
I move in close to her breast and gave it my best.
But somehow it never felt quite right
Our heavy breathing slowed and the good feelings flowed.
Amazed at how we had gone with such speed.
I was surprised at her agility and marveled at her ability.
In awe with the speed of her willingness and need.
I started slowly to dress and began to think in regrets
That I had deflowered an innocent girl.
But she grabbed my arm and turned on her charm.
And as she smiled her lips formed a curl.
She looked me firmly in the eye I was sure I would cry
When she smiled and asked with grin.
Will you still want me by you side? Now that I have nothing to hide.
And a part of you I now carry within?
Or will you turn your head and then treat me as dead.
Now that I have given all I had to thee?
I took time to contemplate, time to savor the bait
My answer was positive indeed.
We clung to each other closer than sister and brother.
Ensuring enough time had passed to confirm. 
I thought the love part was easy and for sure was not sleazy.
I knew I had lots of life yet to learn.
She offered me her flower filled with all of its power
Without hesitation or fear.
I wanted the moment to remember, this cold month of November
As I would forever call her, “My dear.”
We dressed in no hurry, but soon I started to worry
As she cast me once again in her spell.
She whispered words to me that night that really gave me a fright.
That’s when I knew I was going to hell.
She then leaned back on the door looking much like a whore
Using the voice from hell.
As her wings, she did spread, she looked at me and said,
“Come my dove, visit, one more time at the well.”
I still hear the words she did say on that cold lonely day.
When I came to her that year.
When the skies were gray and the cold wind had its way.
And she held me close to her heart without fear

“” I awoke one morning feeling down. This thought came to my mind and I wrote it down as soon as I could. I am sure I speak for many of the seniors out there “”

Time is my enemy.
I cannot fight its polemy.
It weighs heavy on my shoulder.
And it will not accept any form of barter.
It does not let me put any of it in the bank for a rainy day.
Yet I do everything in my power to keep time at bay.
Time is expensive and surely it is not free.
It is a final, it comes and goes, of which there is no degree.
I cannot assign it to another occasion.
When the clock stops for me there will be no evasion.
It will take me where I do not want to go.
I will receive no reprieve, no stay, and no quarter from this formidable foe.

I cannot stop it and I cannot escape it.
I will be thrown into the timeless pit.
From the beginning, I run to the end, when.
To another world unknown, I will transcend.
I ask for more free time, let’s start at my birth.
I am at the end of my stretch and must now pass from this earth.
And be placed where men upon me will tread.
Where seed for green is spread.
Oh how I wish time would slow.
My life will surely end when there is no more time to flow.
I will be placed somewhere that I dread.
I will have no say in the matter for I will be dead.

“” This was a story about abuse of young people by young people. It is a love story of a different sort “”

Everyone it seemed had his way with her.
She had been passed around, treated like a toy found.
Each boy in turn promised love, and to be a true friend,
But once her body was given, romance came to an end.
Soon another, would step up to the plate
And promise his love, in return, for the key to her gate.
Pure lust it was that they wanted quenched.
Lying no more and no less, than to guarantee their success.
She was unable to see, the game they were playing,
Heard not the words, both shallow and betraying.
For her only wish was to be loved whole and true
But one after the other, they just bid her adieu.
She came to my life on one party evening
To the converted coop, the home of my peer group.
The gang was enjoying the sweet nectar of grape
They sang screaming so loud I needed a break.
So I slipped outside, looking to the heavens and stars
Thinking of the painter, was it van Gogh or Renoir?
I heard the leaves of the trees applauding the distant chorus,
When she stepped into the light, from the darkness of night.
Her face light up my view with a smile broad and warm,
And the dress she was wearing showed true her fine form.
I then noticed her eyes, such a deep emerald green,
And there was a hint of lilac scent, both sensuous and clean.
We walked for a while before silence brought us to the end.
She told me that she needed a friend as her heart was on the mend.
Her latest love cast her aside these last two nights;
He had already tired of her womanly delights.
There were tears on her face when the sad story was told,
Then she asked me again to stay, she needed someone to hold.<b
Moving close to my body her warmth touched me so.
I was kissed passionately on my lips, while her hands held my hips.
It wasn’t too long before in throws of desire,
Making mad and enjoyable love to the background choir.
My youth and experience to her, became clear as a bell
Our coupling was quick but she whispered, she’d not tell
She left me there as fast as she came.
I wanted to love her some more, but she’d had already gone through the door.
I followed her into the room of song
But it wasn’t long after I saw she was gone.
I couldn’t let this moment go by without words or thoughts
It tightened my insides, left me feeling distraught.
I was now a member of the circle that enjoyed her gifts
But I was unlike the rest of the gang, I suffered real pang.
Something inside my heart, told me that I was no more
The young man whom had stood, alone by the door.
I was now a man of the world, someone who knew about life
And I realized right then she would soon be my wife.
Now forty-three years have gone by ever so fast,
The girl who came to me that night has never been surpassed.
We married soon after, raised our family of four
In a house full of laughter, who could ask for more?
Yesterday I put her to rest with tears in my eyes
My heart heavy with grief, as I said my goodbyes.
My life with this girl was special for sure
All those years our love had truly endured.
That night when I looked at the moon and the stars
Thinking of artists van Gogh and Renoir.
She stepped into my life and stole my heart.
From that moment on we were never apart.

“” I served 32 years in the Armed Forces and when I hear of one on my own being killed on the battle field, I am saddened. This poem is one that I penned when I heard the news of another loss of life in Afghanistan. “”

A battle gruesome
I fought this day
In a harsh rugged land, far away
Amidst the chaos
The contest grew quiet.
I lay down to rest and dream of home
Speaking with mom, kissing my bride
Walking with dad, washing my car
Cutting the grass beneath blue clear skies
Grilling some ribs, drinking cold beer
Laughing with family, dining with wine
Holding my child, visiting friends
Wearing clean clothes, a suit so fine.
But alas.
The conflict of battle, for me, is over
Dust and sand settles upon my face
The heat of the day grows cool in a way
The warm ochre walls turn a pale cold gray
The mountains give way to distant darkness
A tree reaches high towards the sky
Grasses bend and birds fly
My friends, towards me race
Telling me not to go
I smile at them and shake their hands
I close my eyes and thank them so
I found peace today, my body quiet
It floats on eight and flies by night
I am going home, others at my side
We will travel that highway
For all to wave
As we pass by
Arriving home to the pipes
Singing a lullaby
And biding farewell to all who cry
My battle of glory was fought this day
I died believing that I died for peace
I am not alone with this thought
I am sure.
Many others say it’s so
Many others say it’s so
Cpl Nicholas Raymond Beauchamp
Pte Michel Levesque
Les Héros du Canada
17 November 2008

“” A little bit of erotism may occur when reading this and of course some humour. “”

I awoke this morning to a real surprise.
For when I looked in the mirror I was in disguise.
The face looking back was not the one of my youth.
It was the one of maturity, which I dressed with lies.
Only now the mask hid not that truth.
An old man was my reflection, my eyes red with sty.
Gone, the strength from the body that carried me through time.
My torso now bent and stooped, with a crooked spine.
My youth is gone to where I know not
The corpus left abandoned, my hands in a knot
It was time gone by I danced and sang and played the part
Now my pills of yesterday wait where I forgot
The blue for my blood, the red is for my heart.
And the purple one, I am sure, won’t do a lot.
The youth that I knew would live without and be just fine.
But I must now take them all to ensure a day benign.
Perhaps I will return to my room and go back to bed.
Where, on the soft pillow, I will lay my head.
I will dream of the days of wild and playful times.
To awaken in an hour or so and to the mirror I will tread.
Check my face to see if age has carved more lines.
I am sure I will find a face of youth, in my stead.
But alas I will be too tired to crawl out from my warm nest.
So I will stay a while longer and await eternal rest

“” A little bit of erotism may occur when reading this and of course some humour. “”

Hope is in all our hearts to find eternal bliss.
We want to hold close a warm body to add to our fuel.
Enjoy intelligent conversation with a hug and a kiss
Along with bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and our morning gruel.
Last night I opened my eyes and looked at the nape of your neck.
Followed the supple line of your spine.
And thought about our passion and our need for true love.
How we reached for each other with our torsos entwined.
I moved closer seeking the warmth of your body.
My knee nestled behind your thighs.
I became alive, my manhood erect.
I caressed your body with me eager eyes.
I came closer and rested my head against your back.
My belly felt the roundness of smooth.
I listened to your heartbeat a full sound of life.
As I thrust forward you began to move.
I closed my eyes and floated into your passion.
My body trembled and I bit the air.
My needs became my guide.
You held me close and said,”there, there”;
Then drifting back into the abyss of sleep.
I dreamt of you, my dear sweet precious jewel.
Not to mention our morning meal of bacon and eggs.
Toast and coffee and of course my bowl of gruel.

“” I was inspired while in China on a Ceramic Art Fellowship with Sanbao International Ceramic Art Institute. The secret place is my room””

I sit here quietly looking out from within.
The air is soft, a whisper of wind.
A babbling brook is singing a song.
The gander and his wife, trooping along,
Wandering past my secret place, a place built strong.
A wild turkey stops in his tracks,
It looks at me, only to turn, and walk back,
To be replaced by the hens from the hay,
Who cackle and chatter, in a tongue so gay.
Unaware of the secret place where I lay.
The babbling brook, still singing without end.
It runs straight by and turns right at the bend.
Runs deep into the reeds and out of sight.
As the sun hides behind the mountains might.
And the day turns dark and marries the night.
I am still at rest, looking out from within
Terrance Frank Lazaroff, CD
China 2003

“” Wrote this in memory of those who have died in Afganistan “”

I walk in peace and run in war
Sleeping the night and working the day
Seeking places too far to see
Looking for paradise to play
Where I am going and what I am going to be
Is insignificant you see
I must still find out what is behind that door
Following the herd of men
I hope life will give the gift to me
That will allow me to rise
The see the clouds and to ride the tides
Reach beyond the reach, teetering on the edge
Taking what is too far to touch
Holding close what I have gained
Following my dream and holding my thought
I grasp tight to my carpet
As it takes flight
My destination far and away
I cannot see you clear
But there you are
I know it is
So I go forth without fear
Through wind and storm
And days on end
Looking for the gift special rare indeed
The few real joys far and true
The reward I seek is a treasure trove
 The gift is special much like the morning dew
The gift my dear, is you