JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER
· Another progeny of dear Robbie’s wee mouse,
· A Christmas Angel
· The buzzing!
· HE, used to hold a lamb
· A poetic Christmas story
· The eerie night.
· A Tall Tale! or T..l
· The snow storm!
· A Christmas story!
· Dark shadows of the mind!
· This is not a poem,
· And the fight is on,
· Can anyone fathom the depths of my disgust?
· Convoluted convulsions with cheek in tongue
· Puppy Mills 3
· It shouldn't need to be a right!
· My friends on Halloween
· Gods' world, not yours!
· Arrogant attitude!
· Blowing smoke!
· Ear mites,
· A rush to judgement,
· Ode to a tree,
· Darn Pills,
· It's a blessing,
· A born sinner, or heavenly pornography?
· The why of apple pie
· My little Jasmin,
· The long and heavy chain,
· In God's vineyard,
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would you believe it!
Calling all Birds!
Success in life, twists into some impossible turns sometimes, and not to long ago, this was highlighted, in a most unusual fashion, it brought great mirth along with it.
I do enjoy the occasional stroll through the city park, most of which has thankfully been left in its wild and pristine nature, and therefore still has the usual wildlife that one finds in a more remote wilderness. In the wintertime, I try to get out and do the three mile tour every day, like the postman, rain or shine, snow or ice, nothing will stop me from feeding my little friends. This has been going on for some years, and now those same little friends, come to greet me even in the summertime, some of them let out a little whistle or fly across my face so I won’t miss them, little Angel face, or Peg leg especially, for I helped them through some personal hard times. Angel face, a friend of seven years now, usually comes to my hand, not for food but just to say hello, sometimes she takes just a little offering to make me feel better, peg leg comes only with some coaxing and prodding out of the shrub, sometimes I have to be more persistent, and so it is not unusual to call, and cajole, with cuing word, and sweet encouragement, sort of like come on sweetie, come on out of there good looking, stretching my hand as far as I can near some shrubbery. Well this particular day, I thought I heard a definite whistle and so, I was doing, what I usually do, I mean it is odd enough to see an old geezer in the middle of a hot day standing there calling into nowhere if you are not familiar with his intend, at least I feel sort of odd at the best of times, knowing who I am. In the winter, that is another thing altogether, one could expect an outstretched hand with bird food, and so I don’t quite feel so out of place. Now the people that know me over the years, have ample proof of my prowess to call wild birds to my hand, and I swear I have started a fashion, with little kids getting in on the action, a result of my sharing food on to their little hands. Much joy it brings to me, and of course to them, and the recipients of the gesture, though calling to them is still sort of within my periphery, but there is always hope that it will catch on, and then I won’t look so out of place. Well as I said it is a sort of half wilderness park, and the fauna along with all the critters does bring surprises at some time, like a coon, or a fox crossing the path, or a deer etc., it is a beautiful area, with the Rideau River winding alongside, tall willows standing in the meadows, along with overgrown brush and tall grass here and there. It was a hot day, and slowly wandering the path on my return trip, meandering around a bent of tall brush and grassland, I heard this beep in the bushes and stopped immediately to see if little peg leg was calling out for some food, I always keep some spare after spreading my fare in the usual places, and so I reached into my pocket and stretched out my hand. I didn’t see any movement anywhere, and so I called into the bramble” come on out little sweetie”, nothing, I refined my coaxing, to,” come on now and show yourself, I know you’re there, come on my friend, don’t make it hard on me will ya”, my voice grew more intense over time,” come on you little bum”, etc., now my friends call me the bird whisperer. but this, had nothing more to do with whispering, it was more of a martial led attempt of a quiet shouting. Nothing, the day was passing, and feeling guilty if I didn’t try with a last attempt,” you think I got all day, you lazy bum”, and with an ill attempt of humour,” I am coming after you, I’m coming in”, I thought, good thing no one around to see and listen to me, when suddenly I heard this stirring, a rustling in the bushes, a movement of sorts, this is something big I thought, what did I disturb, looking at me perplexed, a dishevelled man, unsure of what was in play, his hair in disarray, his glasses to the side of his face, a bag around his shoulders, now stretching, and brushing his clothing embarrassed, no not him, I had roused a sleeping bum from his innocent slumber in the wild, hidden from the best of seeing eyes, and all I could say in my embarrassment, sorry but I thought you had whistled at me, more perplexed now the look on his face, he must have thought, seeing me standing there with my hand outstretched, surely he best keep an eye on me. A moment later as I collected myself, he is still standing there, I wand
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"Calling all Birds!"
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|Reviewed by Mary Tilley
|Jasmin, you are hardly a "amatuer"! You ARE AWESOME! You have such a wonderful pen! Blessings my fellow poet...|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|A delightful story sharing, Jasmin. Thank you. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by Z McClure
|A very enjoyable story right to the very end! And what a surprise ending. Hee hee. Your story tickled me in my funnybone, so now I'm going to read your poetry. ~zach|
|Reviewed by 000 000
|This encounter will be spread throughout the community of homeless bums and you will be the star.
Funny stuff and enjoyed the surprise ending.
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|Bird Whisperer, I am sure that man has already forgiven you, since he, like many of your bird friends, is one who many have forgotten.
Keep On, Keepin On, ya never know who you're gonna meet out there!
On my rounds to feed my feral cat friends, I recently ran into a Police Officer, who had been called to the scene with a report of a Prowler! Alas, it was only me, and thankfully, he was an animal lover, too.
|Reviewed by Georg Mateos
I do know now the name of "the man that could talk birds about coming down from the trees" it is Jasmin, isn't?
|Reviewed by Lois Christensen
|What a most exciting surprise, you had no idea he was sleeping there and he must have been tweedling and saying words to himself that you thought you heard a chirp. Rescuing him from the bushes surely surprised him too. Many homeless are in parks and out of the way places, but I saw 3 in the city today. Felt sorry for them. They were so dirty and shaggy and needed shaved, the lady had on a long coat on a hot day, all she owned with her in a shopping cart. Many like this in this world, sorry shapes.|