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 Mar 2015
PrttyBrd
Like being forced under frozen water
Electric burning in the lungs
The heart beats in fire
The body shocks itself alive
As it is dying
Memories flash
In pangs of emotion
The used-to-bes and never-was
A future with burnt edges
The sensation of the last time you touched me
And the death of a part of my soul
32915
faith in the garden,

that some one will care

tend, the beds, grow rhubarb,

again. a crown is cheap on ebay.

they have made raised beds,

left proper pots littered,

here and there,

an inspiration to some

who pass. a disappointment

for those who seek perfection,

head for disppointment.

buy a little tin for seeds

to keep them dry, buy an old bucket

ready for the fruit patch.

clover.

sbm.
 Mar 2015
CA Guilfoyle
He bought and sold things, much like the man
who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals
mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones
they remind me of you, floating high and lofty
out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings
drifting from the city moving countrywards
many are mesmerized by the migration
the fantastical triumph of levitation
they wait for days, years under trees
but not I, I am no longer drunk by
hot air and helium dreams
 Mar 2015
MereCat
The ice cream van
Has today reached
The melancholic realisation
That the only kids who
Chase clocks for Mr Whippy
And lick the exhaust fumes
In nostalgia
Are the kids who are not kids
But who prematurely aged themselves
With lipstick kisses
And cigarettes
Lowered themselves into nooses
Of sweet-sixteenths
From the age of six

We are a generation of
Peter Pan inversions
We ran ashore
And beached ourselves
Beyond the lure
Of Neverland
We are a generation of
Failed cloud-catchers
Aspiring rainbow-clinchers
Secretly slipping our hands
Back into a dead air
Of former innocence
In the hope we’ll be able to
Retrieve the pieces we left there
We queue and scramble
Like gulls for
Inches we can claw back
Preserving our age in
Wafer cones
And bleeding snows
That glue between our fingers
Each 99 flake
Is a time machine
Which we spin like a music box
And wait for the rewind
Copper coins and sea stains
And we hope we’ll find
Some of the things we lost
But we cannot predict or realign
The atoms or twist ourselves
Back into them
So we sit and watch
The incorruptibility we once possessed
Perished
Sexualised
Corrupted
Pool in the March drizzle
Someone once said
That youth was a process
Of being torn in half
By the past that pulls you back
And the future that tempts you
Being too big and yet too small
Longing but fearing
But an ice cream van tells me
That youth is a process
Of trying not to drown yourself
In what you’ve never had
And when that ice cream van tells me to
MIND THAT CHILD
I can’t help projecting echoes
Of its wisdom
On to all who pass me by
Mind that childhood
Before there’s nothing left to mind
Three separate events today triggered this.
Mainly the 3rd.

1) The unanimous decision that (when we finally get there) we want to celebrate the end of our education with a water fight and a bouncy castle on the school field. Because really we're searching for things we should never have disposed of. We never wanted yearbooks or proms of high heals or hoodies...
2) A discussion about the way we live in a world that is expiring itself in a bid to live fast and young and beautiful and ****...
3) An ice cream van that parked out the back of my school today and the crowd of teenagers that flocked to it...
Our hearts skip a beat
when fed with the delusion
that we have time in this world
to possess.  
Like a child
we think we own the burning flame
of the candle
standing with no attention
to arrest.  
We are content to be lured in every season
And still yet,
the skies of ourselves
never rests.

We keep our eyes closed,
looking for some other way
to find
everything there is.
Irrespective
of how the sun holds our hands.  
Still,  gently we leave in place
an ache
that prepares us
for the broken windows in our lives
to be like feathers  
with a present
of living free
without demands.
Copyright @2015 - Neva Flores-Smith - Changefulstorm
 Mar 2015
Francie Lynch
Papa,
Had you held her,
She'd be the death
Of you.
We see it
In her lineage,
Which we
Ascribed to you.
Eons of Irish tribes
Coverge in her
Blood lines;
She is like
The ripening fruit
That cures and makes
Fine wine.
My grandaughter, Aine.
My father, Papa.
 Mar 2015
Sjr1000
For my mother
Upon her arrival
Once the cold white warrior
softened
through wisdom and experience
In your love
I hear my own
Communicated softly.

Your presence through time
an anchor
an edge
a clarity of mind
a witness
in the kindness of others
who in your presence
became
melodic spirits
encased in kindness.

How did you ever hold so much power?

Shiny youth and age
remind one
of the ocean's waves come crashing
always the same
always different
a moment
one after the other
here and gone forever.

In that flavor I taste the sea air's
serenity
as I
as you gave to me
and
I held you there
a vast marvel of
endless wind blown currents
holding one mystery after another.

My dear Mother
upon your arrival
as you blessed me
I bless you
In your infinite grace.
The anniversary of my mother's death
I lay these flowers on her grave.
 Mar 2015
Left Foot Poet
Always save the best for last*


He Says:

I hoard,
just in case,
when I get my daily dose of
rainy day needs,
then, for a fresh start,
a cheer me up,
keep new shoes and such
in a closet, gathering dust,
and look them up...

She Says:

no way,
use the best first,
always,
that why I am
always
in my finest,
and why I
put up with you*
and still kiss your
wrongheaded head,
and keep on kickin' your
***-
backwards thinking...
 Mar 2015
Jamie King
My life is foretold in every crevice of this universe,
in serene seas, and swaying sands,
in scorching degrees and holding hands,
with a lover in my longing arms,
fires raging, and yet i am sheltered from harm.
and throughout my journeys,
it is my deepest desire,
to ignite and set my ambitions on fire,
in the midst of euphoric dreaming,
with my lover on this late summer's evening.
and i shall be at one with the stars,
and my doors in life shall forever remain ajar.

Walk into this space it is endless
sublime congruence with the heavens
open is the third eye looking directly at abyss
i feel a divine hint on my skin
as if it were a celestial kiss
there is no need to travel in doubt
it is written across the evening canvas
open the gates of exotic awareness


It is writhing, it is gifting, entrusting me, and quaking,
yet I, within mine, remain still.
Fore be it told, and beneath footless form, it's subversive,
yet, I dance a sure tango, uphill.
I must be sure, so sure not to mind lone notches and disparity,
as crevices, you see, they arch to transverse.
Fearing but forging the depths of what is migration, we say,
from this hallowed tangle be my rise, my verse.

I’m floundering, I grant, when I think I hold discovery,
so, I tug at the rein of imprint and plan.
It is here my beloved reliance, my precious doubtless tread
is afforded the fair crossing of Pan.
So, although it contests and chides and outreaches,
I am in love and as love, an apprentice.
A conquest won, no never, but here, a concession, a regard-
I am, with no poet’s journey, amiss.**

Lilting ebulliently in ineffable fields of ecstasy.
Mellifluous waves, in life's voyage,
inure us to pulchritude paths, refined by old age.
Multifarious, nascent jubilant days, swaying in paint,
array the way as we sail away.
Comments are welcomed and please respost thank you for reading:)
stanza
1 Aesha Nisar
2 Dawn King
3,4 Gwyn
5 Jamie King
 Mar 2015
Nat Lipstadt
(I love) Dignity

tearing words apart,
a part
of  a joy I cannot
explain or share exactly


knew a man once,
forty two years gone,
died too soon enough,
soon enough,
he and I will be
the same age

this man
a duck out of water,
a stranger in an adopted land,
trouble-stooped, a hard life, well lived,
never bent,
dignified in every step

I cannot remember him
ever kissing me, tousling my hair,
holding my hand, loving me in
a manner I wanted beyond  desperately

yet here I am, 5:22 am
weeping tears recalling him
in glimpses long ago seen,
adding them all up to get a
single sum

Dignity.

tearing words apart,
a part
of a joy I cannot/explain,
share precisely


dig
in
to
my
chambered memory storage units,
unlocking those rusted locks with freshly oiled
tears
and loving the dignity he exampled

to the son he could not kiss, hand hold,
but taught him the one lesson, digging deep
to respect life and stand apart,
stand with dignity.

all else will follow

the son kissed his children plenty,
in a vain attempt to make up his missed
homework

now the grandfather,
now the grandfather
is still kissing
his last hope, his newest babes,
rolling on the floor,
so silly kissing belly buttons,
smelling their skin repeatedly,

in a manner most
undignified

still weeping
the son,
he tries to sort it out

and forgives and does not forget
the man that taught dignity
in everything,
even, especially,
in slow dying,

forty two years is a long time to wait
to weep.

it takes two hands in the dark
repeatedly
to collect all the waiting patiently
wetness and the
accompanied sniffles,
so undignified,
the son smiles at himself
declaring unabashedly,
digging out from himself
a poem, a self-reflection
on time tarnished reflections
clear enough to make him
sob,
believing

I love dignity.
for my father...
 Mar 2015
Àŧùl
When I saw the morning sunlight gleaming,
I thought about all the darkness that it veiled,
Behind its bold beams it had bowed down.

While I looked at the rays they were sifting,
I realized that in the evening the sun must set,
Bundle will open & then will again be night.

Where I wondered was the permanent day,
I answered myself that it was ever impossible,
But worrying was docile as I too will perish.

Who could complete this jigsaw of my life,
In here you come smiling as the permanence,
Bringing completeness to my life you are..

Why I must try to make the best of my life,
Imbibing positives and happiness throughout,
Because life is too small to waste in vain...
My HP Poem #818
©Atul Kaushal
 Mar 2015
PrttyBrd
Tonight the gray in your eyes
Is the color of the skies
In my dreams

The clouds and the rain
Match the pain
It isn't as it seems

The miles can't hide
The love we feel inside
My heart is in your hands
It's been too long
Since those gray eyes sang a song
Your wish is my command
I'll be home soon

Your picture on my phone
Isn't close enough to home
For my needs

The distance is too great
Need to find a plane to take
Desperately

The miles can't hide
The love we feel inside
My heart is in your hands
It's been too long
Since those gray eyes sang a song
Your wish is my command
I'll be home soon

The miles can't hide
The love we feel inside
I'll be home soon

I'll be home soon
32715
Song for Him
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