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POETRY

           By: rebeccathepoet

Juxtaposition gave blessing to line

Onstage he conveyed to Say Anything

Humor expressed with his dialogue, fine

Narrative tales were the stories to sing.

Producing a War and aimed at Point Blank,

All of us laughed as he gave us his best.

Upstaging them all he claimed up in rank,

Learning the arts was an eloquent test.

Chiasmus words were now his true passion

Unities came approaching with balance.

Satire and wit expressed with intention

As Good and Evil were given to chance.

Cusack's become a great movie icon.

Knowing he's always just John, Being John.

Jotting her name on a contract of fame

One acts evolved to a movie on screen.

Agents aligned, many offers then came;

No wit was as funny, joyful and clean.

Monologue's humor, her greatest forte;

An all-time favored Working-Girl artist.

Rhetorical tales showed love on display

Yet Shameless in War, she Toyed with the best.

Chicago, her home, Fidelity's place

Unveiled her true path to give to us all.

Sincere are her ways In & Out of grace,

Alongside talent, fulfilling her call.

Cusack's a good one to see at the show.

Keeping the movies a great place to go.

The Importance of Seeing Poe

Once upon a marvelous day as I was bound about my way,

An extraordinary dream passed across the vision of my eye.

Once inside this inclination, overwhelmed with exhortation,

I felt as if this observation spoke the truth and would not lie.

I vow to you this honestly.  I pledge it true least I should die,

                                                This I swear not knowing why.

 

I saw a man, I viewed his mind.  His words were dark yet he was kind.

A passion flowed inside his truthful and implicit human sigh.

I almost fought this apparition, fearing it hallucination.

Then I had a revelation.  Knowing this, I said good-bye.

I said farewell unto my fear of this vaporous man so nigh.

                                                Yet again, not knowing why.

 

I lingered closer, closer still.  Somewhere beyond my strongest will,

I found the strength to lend my ear and hear the suffering of his cry.

I departed not the situation but felt a sense of obligation

To fairly seek examination, and understand, as only I

Could comprehend this valiant man and his intrepid mortal sigh.

                                                         He then looked unto the sky.

 

I spoke “Hello” unto this ghost who in return proposed a toast.

But I sensed a sorrow coming from the tone of his reply.

I looked at him with reservation and with no further hesitation,

(For I knew my destination) I said to him, “Please tell me why;

Why have you chosen for this task a humble woman such as I?”

                                                       Still he looked unto the sky.

 

I spoke these words, “Please look at me.  A famous man I want to see.”

But in his answer rang a truth, Do not you see, no fame have I?

I sit alone in contemplation and ponder why such indignation 

has put me in a situation where I am left alone to die.

Listen well unto my words, I speak the truth, I will not lie

                                                   I have chosen now to die--

 

My life will soon be ending.  My countenance requires tending.

I must therefore seek the manner as to implore my last good-bye.

I have chosen isolation for this toxic situation.

I’ll ignore humiliation as through the old man’s blinded eye

And sequester one last triumph before ascension to the sky.”

                                                              Once again I wondered why…

 

Why such a man just at his peek would think of life as now so bleak,

And yearn for one last living breath to conquer now, his last reply.

I then yelled with much frustration, “Renounce your great imagination!

I hope a stench of condensation stays with you until you die.”

A puzzled look then stained this man and he alone began to cry.

                                                     Then he breathed a heavy sigh.

 

 

The words I spoke I did regret, but all too soon he did forget.

A Raven perched upon a post and caught the gleaming of our eye.

“Ah!”  He said, “Communication from the bird of information.

It’s a sign of confrontation; the Days of Yore are in his cry.

Can you hear the echo of Lenore croaking deep within his cry?

                                                   It speaks of the days gone by.”

 

 

He looked abreast while leaning, provoking thoughts that had new meaning.

Then he spoke unto the Raven sitting on the post near by.

“I implore your true intention!  Speak, thou bird of ebony dissention

And give your credit of invention to the poet, mainly I. 

I say swear upon your blackened crest, give true merit, don’t be shy,

                                                                   To the poet, mainly I.”

 

I heard the fowl from the Days of Yore croak the phrase of “Nevermore.”

And after setting wings to fly, took ascension to the sky.

Edgar fought a deep depression, for on his face a bare expression

Took the place of his profession.  No longer would his thoughts comply

To a simple sound or written phrase.  No more words — far or nigh.

                                                       “None,” he said, “No more have I.”

 

My heart was filled with passion to view a man in such a fashion,

And to ponder now his reasoning for such a laden measure – Why?

Why such a vast imagination would linger now in meditation,

Searching for a situation to end a melancholy sigh.

“If you think you’ve been forgotten, you’re simply incorrect,” said I.

                                                        “Please, for me, get up and try.”

 

I saw the look upon his face and knew it wasn’t now my place,

To reason to a broken heart whose shattered dreams would soon comply

To the final confrontation inside his futile obligation.

And with no further explanation I understood the reason why,

Why now this providence in time was to be seen by my own eye!

                                                       Then I breathed a heavy sigh.

 

 

The reason for this flash of light was so that others one day might

Comprehend the cause of the mysterious way this man did die.  

It seems his inspiration had a mistaken reputation,

And no appreciation had been revealed by one human eye.

He then spoke as would a friend unto the woman such as I.

                                               “On your heart you must rely….

 

I thank you for your faith and trust, but now you know I simply must

Unearth the path which leads unto my sweet Virginia in the sky.”

With a hint of reservation, he waved me on,—“Imagination,

Creative innovation, is the key to a poem.  ‘Trust!’ ‘Rely!’— 

Now on about your merry way to ponder on these words from I.”

                                                    And he waved to me good-bye.

 

My desire was then to stay, but I took the path of my own way,

And I never shall forget the presence of that vision in my eye.

I had a fresh appreciation from the man of inspiration.

This gave me new foundation to know his words would now comply

To all the words that would be written by the woman such as I.

                                                          I then looked unto the sky.

 

I saw his spirit flowing; where it went I’m left not knowing,

But I’m sure it lingers close for my mind is such I can’t deny

The lack of concentration it takes for my imagination 

To create the duplication of discerning thoughts that only I

Would see.  For I have seen the reason why this famous man did die. 

                                                         This I swear, I do not lie.

Johnny Depp

 

Little Johnny Depp took the big step.

First he Jumped, then he Cried,

But don’t you ever say he lied.

Edward took the Scissors out of Johnny’s Hand,

Johnny started searching for the promise land.

Johnny loved the women, he caused their hearts to swoon.

His days of Don Juan DeMarco must have Been in June.

The earth, it opened, opened, swallowed up his home.

He was forced to be a nomad and took the streets to roam.

Johnny Depp was angry, he lost money in the bank;

He had to pay a handsome sum when thrown into the tank.

Yes, he paid a handsome sum; they threw him in the tank.

Living Nightmare, nightmare from which was no escape,

Johnny turned his life around by Eating Gilbert’s Grape.

He tried to think what Ed Would do.

This story continues in Johnny, Part II.

Music & Rhyme

Rockin’ to lyrics of music & rhyme,

Is what brings us hope to a world unknown.

Crying out words of love … of time,

Keeps us all from dancing alone.

 

Songs of poetry will remain

Pure as they ascend;

Revealing a path that will forever attain

Insight … for the broken hearts to mend.

Night and day, when songs appear

Give trust that all is at peace.

Finding a song which takes us near,

Ignite our minds to release.

Eloquent sounds of rhythm and rhyme …

Leave our world a better place.

Dancing to lyrics of love … of time,

    …. leave us with splendor and grace.

 

 Frazzled from an intense and

 Rugged week of work, &

 In dire stress due to

 Endless 

 Nonesense.  But then her friend

 Declared,

Say, did you know that you are Beautiful.” !!!

Lost & Found

 

Why are you crying

instead of frying

an egg upon the sand?

 

It would be a lot more fun

to walk in the sun,

and hold your best friend's hand.

Johnny, Part II  

 

Little Johnny Depp, he wore the funky clothing;

Gave up Speed for Blow, was full of Fear and Loathing.

The Source said he was Dreaming, and they saved his soul From Hell.

Was he The Man Who Cried again? … A little hard to tell.

 

He tried to start a fire One Time in Mexico,

But Ed came back into his dream, said, “Johnny, Don’t cha know?

You’ve got to find your children, Put away your shame.”

And In the Nick of Time, The Kids put out the Flame.

Yes, in the nick of time, the kids put out the flame.

 

Looking out the Window, Johnny found his Neverland, he

Often thought of Paw Paw and Edward Scissor Hands.

He sailed across the ocean, said “Pirate starts with P.”

He ate a lot of Chocolate with little Charlie,

He ate a lot of Chocolat, that’s where he wanted to be.

 

The Brave  little Johnny had given up his Rum; but

Instead of being Hallow, he’s on the screen for some.

Johnny is our Hero; he’s Sleeping at the Gate.

He deserves to get an Oscar cause it’s written in his fate.

Yes he needs to get and Oscar.  It is written in his fate. 

 

Johnny we are watching.  We only wish the best,

Cause in Part III we know you will put talent to the test.

In Act III we know you will—

            Give your fans the very best.

As Always, Johnny. 

            Johnny Depp.  Johnny!

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