Poetry Blog by Randy Horton

Living in the Future

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I live six hours in the future,

Relative to family and other loved ones.

I wake each morning to news of the world

As the Atlantic Ocean shields them

From dreadful awareness a bit longer.

 

I know the missiles are airborne,

The tsunami approaches,

The revolution has kicked off,

Or just that the avocado yield was low.

 

I’m fighting the urge to scream,

To call, to...

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In My Arms

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I found a picture of you in my arms,

Sleeping securely, safe from harm,

As you knew it, anyway.

Your trust for me was complete,

You wanted for nothing

And thought of my love only

As often as a bird thinks of sky.

You didn’t yet know people

Can go away or even die.

 

I know how things changed,

But I can’t bear to think of it.

I picture you now, with your love

...

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Seeking Joy

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At an unprogrammed Quaker meeting

The spirit moved someone

To remind us to find our Joy.

 

After, a friend said she would

Find joy in a nice boy toy.

Or maybe it was a toy boy.

She said one is a boy

You’d like as a toy

And the other is something

A boy would like to play with.

 

We giggled at that,

And I was reminded of a joke

About a party where everyone

...

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Writing Through Illness and Grief Group

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While mourning his daughter Tullia, Cicero took to writing a book of self-consolation. Thinking himself the inventor of this type of self-help, he said, “Why, I have done what no one has done before, tried to console myself by writing a book.” (This is quoted by Han Baltussen in the Nov. 2009 issue of Mortality in an essay titled, “A grief observed: Cicero on remembering Tullia.”)

I certainly d...

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Bob War (Ode to Humane Farming)

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I was an adult before I realized that barbed wire is not called Bob War, because that was how my grandfather pronounced it, and he happened to be the person who mentioned it to me most often, as he was the person who would always tell us kids that we needed to help repair the fence. Some concerned neighbour would call to tell him some of the cows were out, and he’d tell us to grab some Bob War and...

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New Mills Festival Poetry Trail

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I'm putting together a poetry trail for the New Mills Festival. The festival begins 14 September and runs for three weeks. Poem will appear in shop windows throughout the town. We will have a round-robin poetry reading for participants on 26 September 2018 at The Butterfly House at the Torrs. The deadline for submissions is the end of May, but I'm accepting poems as I go, so it is best to get them...

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Writing Prompts

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Stare at a blank page or screen until you feel an overwhelming compulsion to fill it with letters. If you are thinking about something, write it down. You once said you spend too much time ruminating. What about? While crying, you once said everyone hated you. What do you think makes you so unpleasant? You’ve had more than a handful of lovers. How did you attract them? You’ve had more th...

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Lonnie's First Christmas Pudding

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Okay,  listen up, y’all.

I spent Christmas in England,

And this is what I saw.

They got something called a Christmas Pudding

I don’t know why--it ain’t got no pudding in it at all.

It’s just a big fruity mess

Rotting in fat and alcohol.

First they take dried fruit, sugar, and peelings,

Mix it with some flour, spices, eggs, and brandy,

Add some stuff I can’t remember,

...

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What I Never Told My Students About Descartes

When teaching Descartes, I dutifully described his dualism in detail.

 I discussed his importance as the father of modernism,

But also his common ground with scholasticism.

 

Together we examined the ways he attempted to prove God

And the reliability of both mathematics and his own senses.

Also, some biographical information including his early education,

Military service, tra...

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Love Like a Cliche

You are certainly not a metaphor,

But you may be sort of like a simile.

You are my rudder and sails on a turbulent sea.

You are like a force that guides and propels me.

 

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