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 May 2017 JS Clark
allie
I'm still here.
Patiently waiting.
Tapping my foot.

I'm still here.
Where you left me.
Worrying.

I'm still here.
Wiping my tears.
You aren't coming back.

I think I'll go now.
Turn off into the snow.
Let it over take me.

I'm gone now.
The tree is bare.
The wind has stopped.

I'm long gone now.
The tree has budding leafs.
And I'm gone.

**Gone into the wind.
I've given up on someone. I just can't with his constant needs and the self pity that hands around him. I hope he understands and no longer is an ***.
 May 2017 JS Clark
Eric W
Distance
 May 2017 JS Clark
Eric W
I can feel it.
The wind which caressed your face
brushes by me
and leaves me
breathless
again.
The miles are not real,
state lines and roads apart,
but not
in all the same.
The sun sets and I see
your face in the sky
and feel your arms
around me.
You are still so close.
Days pass
and we fly through the sky
while the moon bears its stolen light
onto the ocean floors,
and the waves carry your
laughter and your words
over the sand and grass and
into my ears and over my
mind
and the sun rises with
a gentle and calming touch
into my arms and over my
body
to start the day
and I find
that you are still
not so far away.
I was strolling down the aisle
We were shopping there in style
With my daughter sitting smiling in the cart,
I was stretching out my hand
For the Martinelli's brand
When the apple of my eye gave me a start.

With the bottle in my grasp
I saw, coming toward us fast,
A high heeled damsel, scarfed and towing her caddie
And she smirked as I, condemned,
Stood up to comprehend
The reason, as my child said "Whisky Daddy?"

There was nothing I could say,
To make it seem another way,
To vanquish the conviction so compelling
It was the color you could tell
And the shape she knew so well,
The question that my daughter asked was telling.

Neil Stewart McLeod
This poem is published in an anthology called "A Ship In A Bottle" and is available from this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Ship-In-Bottle-Stewart-McLeod/dp/1490390847/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372568128&sr=8-1&keywords=a+ship+in+a+bottle+Neil+Stewart+McLeod#reader_1490390847Neil
You may never have stood and looked down the sight
At the tommy buck out in the breeze
With the barrel on the side of the truck
As your father says, "Gently now, squeeze."

You may never have felt the kick of the ****,
Then heard the report with a crack,
Or seen the buck just scatter away,
Leaping this way and that.

You may never have smelt the smell of the air
After a fire on the plain
When fresh grass shoots are pushing through
With mushrooms, after the rain.

You may never have heard the kru kroo of a dove
When at dusk to its mate it is calling,
As shadows are lengthening out to the east
And the African night is falling.

You may never have felt the pump of your heart
As you slam the truck cab door
Then lurch on the seat as you cross the plain
To the prey when you're only four.

You may never have ridden with game in the back
As rain clouds blacken the sky,
Or heard the clank of the tail-gate chains
And, never again shall I!
My father used to take me shooting. We would go once a week or so. We had no refrigeration and no electricity. We would listen to the radio by lifting the battery out of the car and hooking it up . I shot my first buck when I was four.
This poem appears in "One For The ***" available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/One-***-Poems-Stewart-McLeod/dp/1489575103/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1494434822&sr=8-2&keywords=Neil+Stewart+McLeod+Poetry
 May 2017 JS Clark
Valsa George
As the sun moves to the western horizon
Colors are skilfully blended in a palette
In an instant the sky becomes an exquisite canvas of art
Making even Van Gogh burn in jealousy

With the last glimmer of sunset
When the shadows chase the light,
The aerial folks fly back to their nests
Like black and white specks dotting the sky

With a dark drape stretched across the Earth’s face
The arrival of the night is a spectacular sight
Cicadas and crickets welcome her with their ceremonious band
And street lamps blink their eyes to catch a better view

While truant clouds still wander around aimless
The cerulean sky signals them to hurry
Stars slowly appear in the night sky
Like sequins stitched on to a blue brocade

The crescent moon smiles down
The empress of the night, proud and regal
She and her retinue keep guard over the slumbering Earth
The unpaid sentries of the night!

A gentle breeze makes a palanquin ride
Wafting in the scent of opening buds
The beauty of the night sends me to raptures
My heart exploding like foaming wine in a bottle

Yet I cannot but keep wondering
How many dark secrets
The night holds
Within her tenebrous folds!
What a pleasant surprise, this poem is made the daily. Thanks to everyone for making it possible through your likes and kind comments. These days I can't see the daily and I don't know where to look for it. The site is sometimes quite tricky.....Thanks a lot once again !
 May 2017 JS Clark
Martin Bailes
Kissinger's in the House today,
trailing choking ****** fumes
kicking aside limbless tiny bodies
too, too innocent by far,
all dripping entrails & shattering
dry bones gladly underfoot
as he lopes horrendously
all death rictus grin & such
as he once again justifies
to St Peter at the gates
the millions crushed, obliterated
blown into tiny misty red fragments
as he played his all-mighty diplomatic
history lessons on a helpless, distant
once green & fertile land.

Forgiveness? Ha!
Dangerously arid.

Sparks a flyin’.

Fires a spreadin’.

Intensifyin’.
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