The www.Ecks-Port.pro Report
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Heyyo Porters:
IN COLOR, AT SEVEN
For our ‘colorscape’ of not just any rainbow, and but here a PoetryBow, these days modern communities and all sorts garner rainbows for flags, logos, or other usages and if you’re still not sure what I mean it may be better just not to know because those who do can tend to get up in arms by gallivanting boisterously in biased and transfigurative ways; so, if you’re still questioning what the good Lord has to do with rainbow origins (God’s account sets out about how the bow / rainbow originates within Noah’s Flood at ‘Genesis’ found by our Holy Bibles all the way in to mentions in ‘The Revelation’), let’s see how it doesn’t stop there until our ‘PoetryBow’ today and has more to do with much more than we can present in all our fanciful borrowing and strident reclamation. A reward is that Mr. Eck will share a tasteful joke each colored page (one of which is an original by C. T. Eck himself! – at Orange Fix page, by the way for your information), plus a double whammy for one of the seven for you to find, so read them all if you will.
ALL ABOUT THE DOUBLE (2!) POEMS LANDED ON “YELLOW FIX”
The poems found this page are respectively from the ‘True-Accounts-From-My-Own-Life Poems’ Category (here, titled “RunRunRunRunRun”) and then from the ‘Story Form Poems’ Category (there, titled “Morning’s Shore”) in the newer Book. Both of these poems found this page deal with the subject of running, literally or actually exercising by running (notably outside versus inside at a gym or an indoor track) and, as one of this Author’s (mine, again Mr. Eck’s own) lifestyle pastimes, these really strike a chord in the Author’s own heart and mind (so, thanks, if you like to enjoy them, too!).
Farewell,
Ecks-Port pro, c/o C. T. Eck
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Good Joke #3 / 7:
A son told his father to please turn up the heat in the house, so the father explained to his son to please stand in the corner where it is 90 degrees!
(a corner is at a 90-degree angle)
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1 / 2 "RunRunRunRunRun" [poem]
by poet Eck, C. T.
Winding up for the endurance speed contest against yoursoreself
Read this twice in strength
In Psalms of Israel
A night prayer along with as your song
In melody of my life
My day prayer is going my run
A now time modern city boy
The jungle of skyscrapers and pavement
Liking to stop for cross-traffic at stop light walk signals
Politely abruptly anticipatory
When I start again not lagging
But raring
Signs more than on the street keep me blazing
The trail through to the lakefront too
Sun-up over the eastern water line at Milwaukee port
This man writing was born there
Born to be born again to run, with these
Run with my back, leaning forward into each step
Run with my steps, winged shoes in my mindscape
Run with my navel, cheeks above wuffing
Breaths spanked intake lungs tank
Run with my hands, open fisticuffs racing not fighting
Run with my praise, fingers cupped together long to swim in air
Form of posture, rejoicing yet alone for the own pace
Soul of my soles, feat of my feet
Treading the sea of faces on land possessed by thunderclap legs
Wait for the second
Not time to slow I got my wind too
* * *
2 / 2 "Morning's Shore" [poem]
by poet Eck, C. T.
Heavy drops . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . hold back
Lightning out of the distant East
Then in front of my forehead near by as if to push with my finger
Lightning like drawn pencil lines
Across the sky canopy iridescent
Like a staff glow of brightness sharper than a light bulb
Positioning my fists and wrists inward as if I am guiding a steering wheel
Though my arms are pivoting in time with the legs that carry me
Hearing a rhythm in my spirit as I press my back into the running
Exertion that belongs to me
Wind blowing through the trees swaying and moving
The heavy deep green leafy conglomerate is in peace
Because I like the smell and sense
Not of the outdoors but of a cigarette
I could smoke if it was healthy
But it is not, not even close
So instead, I run and stretch
Is there an angel walking my route?
As a guard does this angel show up to protect me?
Had a small white butterfly along for the trip once
He only lasted a part of the one lap out of the many
Another day a gorgeously marked black and yellow Swallowtail
Streamed by next to the front of my face almost to touch
Later at the end of my jogging he blew flapping by once more
Another day playful children came along behind
Laughing mostly with themselves about being added
Some following longer and then on bicycles asked me how much longer
I would be out ‘til I was done I said in a number of words
Another day two cheerleaders from heaven were out
Two small girl children proclaiming loudly all about me
One entered a pack of air through her recorder making an announced tweet
Dutifully making demands on how much time I had left to run for them
One cry “You made it” to the neighborhood as I turned around the bend
Then on a later lap boldly stated more lines in a bossy charge
With my main running partner the sun we stride
Who, though I have heard he is stationary, travels all day
Rejoicing as a strong man to run his race around the sky
And my race is shorter than his circuit we both know
And I compete only against myself I tell to show
Until I am old I shall be making these runnings part of my normal routine
Resting a day but appealing to this approach six in the week
Sidewalk tube in my vision of this today
Street-wide tunnel minding my mind and I aim traveling through
To awaken the morning some more
Finding on morning’s shore a day to seize
Fix those eyes when they seem estranged
Or tend to look a weird-on look at you
Just do not let it affect your eyes my man
Later to wait for the sweating to stop I lean back slowly
Because of the cold dampness left to the surface backing
On my balcony’s outside yard chair
Akin to all I have felt or seen and run about
This another night, though unseen with cloud-covering between
Stars above the ceiling still shine strong
Indeed if you are inside a building to sleep
Wait until tomorrow to run with one
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