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 Mar 2015
Francie Lynch
The Vortex has bolted;
The Express left;
The sun, moon and stars
Conspire in the sky
In imitation of Spring,
Before the final plunge.

Then, the Red-winged,
Red-breasted and
Yellow-footed featheries
Will nest and roost
Where I don't want them.

The droppings of winter
Are exposed;
Last Fall's leafy refuge
Upbraid me;
Winter's cover
Is pulled back,
The slumber ends.

I am compelled
To join the festival,
Buy gasoline
For Spring's toys.
I will,
Perhaps,
Be calm
By November.
 Mar 2015
nivek
I sat on the back of the white stallion
a warrior in all poetical glory-
many decades ago.
And I travelled the road of broken love
wishing for the unrequited to heal.
Now the white stallion is no more
and the warrior sings different songs.
The road of a poets lot
always reaches into the ancient past
and grows into the full stature of warrior-hood.
 Mar 2015
SG Holter
Kiel, Germany.*

I know it's not even lunch yet,
But I'm a poet, so this huge
Beer has no bad feelings

Attached to its coldness.
All ice, hugs and barley.
I love Germany this time

Of the year. Guess I should
Get back on the boat and wake up
The woman,

But there is something about
Cold drops running down
Glass to kiss a coaster that

Makes me want to read what
The cardboard says. So I expose it
With the intentions of a literary

Drunkard: Noch ein Bier Bitte.
I guess there's poetry
Everywhere

To a writing man
Who loves
Beer enough

To write about just
One. Even in
Germany.
 Mar 2015
Musfiq us shaleheen
Away from the white Stork feathers
Often seemed to be gentle breeze
On Kans grasses
Superficial white clouds
Small dinghies on the river
To navigate the life

Far away on the bridge
The Silent movement of the Brahminy kite
Southern breeze blew
Tilting the tall grasses toward the North
Leak of the light fell into the Kans,
Into the Soft green grasses

Sunlit mingled with light fog
Seek heavenly feeling
Without the knowledge
The lips Stir of

Walking beside the river
Barefooted
In the air Kestrel's mystic music
The river running with full of chime

What are the forms of you!
Thee bind me with deception!
What a Strange tune!
What those thirsty words!

So that I draw your image
Moving away from the shadows
Soft light blended with the estuary
Away,
Little by little,
To see your face
Like the rig of Ship

Behind the path
A magical dream
Seems like a White Shirt  
That I had left in the Kans grasses
 Mar 2015
SE Reimer
~

fallen…
heroes all,
saviors-in-training,
on mission repeat;
the service-giving,
life-giving,
members of
a fighting team.
existing solely that
you and i
can spend our time
consumed
with the art
of loving well;
their actions
no less impassioned
than our own,
no less worthy,
no less loving and
no less selfless.  

whatever we think
of war,
we must think
of the individuals
who move toward the fray
rather than away;
those to whom
we owe our very
everyday existence
be it extraordinary
or mundane;
to their daily efforts.,
to their repeated training,
to their daily sacrifice,
we offer
a prayer-filled salute!

and to these
who paid dearly,
to wives,
sons & daughters,
mothers and fathers,
nation with a
grateful heart,
a debt we cannot repay,
we humbly offer
our heart-filled
and loving tribute.
may you ever
rest in peace.

~

*post script.


serving you and me from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina,
these fallen Marine heroes are:
Capt. Stanford Henry Shaw III of Basking Ridge, New Jersey;
Master Sgt. Thomas Saunders of Camp Lejeune;
Staff Sgt. Liam Flynn of Queens, New York;
Staff Sgt. Trevor P. Blaylock of Lake Orion, Michigan;
Staff Sgt. Kerry Michael Kemp of Port Washington, Wisconsin;
Staff Sgt. Andrew Seif of Holland, Michigan; and
Staff Sgt. Marcus Bawol from Warren, Michigan

http://www.marinecorpstimes.com/story/military/2015/03/13/names-of-7-marines-killed-in-helicopter-crash-released/70277156/

(the four fallen Guard members remain unnamed at this time)

next month my son is deployed
to points classified to us his parents.
i can only think about his sacrifice
in terms of time, money, exposure to danger …  
and his safe return!
So the only thing you lay claim to
is you are a poet.

He was referring to my CV
where it was mentioned boldly
the art I dabble in.

But that’s no skill
shrugged the questioner
doesn’t hone your ability
in finance management
or marketing strategy

can’t fetch one good deal
for the company
your poetry

but to be frank with you
I too wrote a few
only to dump before it got me
your poetry

otherwise I fear
I would not have been here.

Outside were faces in nervous wait.

I wondered if among them
was another poet!
 Mar 2015
Traveler
We shared coffee on the porch
As we awoke to our timeless summer romance
A world free of commitments
Coupled with unforeseen circumstance

Music filled those long summer days
Magic ruled those starlit nights
Our hearts beat to the rhythm of love
Lost in pure intimate delight

I remember how it felt
Holding you naked in my arms
You were only seventeen
And life could do us no harm

We tripped and fell yet never landed
In our wonderland of dreams
You cried for more and behind the door
You were my gypsy acid queen

A hundred years it seems has passed
But in my mind you’ll always be
Once upon a time
In my wildest dreams...
References to the following:
Yes, Moody Blues and Tina Turner's role in The Rock Opera Tommy.
 Mar 2015
Poetic T
Its chimes like a lullaby, one
Ancient, cursed. In the soothing
Moments the horror sings out.

Never is it wound up, the lid
Opens a jar, a sensation of
Serenity, to those allured  
By its corrupted song.

Old wood opens as a blackened figure
A wisp of old reaches forth. The music
Plays, soothing on the sense, but all
Is about to change.

Each note lunges in the mind, each
Corroded note, changes thoughts
Of kind, serenity is morphed into
This altered state of mind .

It doesn't matter child, woman
Man, all who hear this ancient
Lullaby cursed upon man and soul.

Object in hand, nothing else is  
Heard only that the music is
Everything, it whispers on Skin,
Bone and mind.

Each drop of blood is a note,
Each scream is but chorus in
This Lullaby of death. It
Gently fills the air with its
Soothing intentions.

The lullaby will never end, the
Figure a wisp upon a stand,
Bows to the audience of blood,
And slowly closes its lullaby of
Death. It has once again sang its
Song, and all is silence once more.
 Mar 2015
Poetic T
The darkness it burnt upon my
Angel wings, they wilted, with
Each moment of this forsaken
Place, my soft skin did  haemorrhage
Tainted with each breath every
Movement that I crawled upon
This acidic land corroded my light .

My white turned yellow, changed
From pure to black, I was in agony
As that which was white should
Never be turned to that. I was
Winged, not able to give motion
To the air, I was a ground dweller
As if wings were a weight a persecution
To the time of air, now dragging like
A weight a conscience upon my back.

I must have walked upon this scared
Land, I must have moved these once
Pure now tainted as dragged like sin
Behind my back.

I was before I fell, I contemplated
That which I had been and that
Which this land whispered to me
Become. The light was dulled, smothered
Like a wet blanket over a fire, Suffocated
What burnt bright, now I was being
Extinguished my dulled light.

I remembered I fell and my skin smelt
Sulphuric with a hint of light, I knew
I had bleed hatred behind me, I knew
That I had been left, abandoned to this
Isolation. My wings had regained there
Imagery, they were like crows feathers
Pure, dark, black as night.

I despised  those above, their light, ignited
Hatred, deep within where something that
Beat but know was just black, I launched
Upon the breeze to take me vengeance
Upon that purity that  glided, flowed.

I am that which will take those of higher
morals and bring them to the place of
Solitude, of loneliness, they will remember
The pain of those they had been left in the
Darkness,  For light can only last so
Long before it becomes what was before.
#light #darkness #fallen #
 Mar 2015
Poetic T
Poetry
           is
Like
         Cooking,
We
       May
All
         Use
The
       Same
Ingredient's,
                     But
It
           Is
The
                 Quantity
And
             Taste
Of
             Each
   One
That
         Makes
   Each
Morsel
                   Melt
In
             The
Mind
           A
Different
                     Way....
Each word wrote tastes different in the mind
 Mar 2015
Amitav Radiance
When an illusion becomes a reality
The whole idea of existence is shrouded
In the mysterious clues we are given
Unearthed from the remains ancient
Many hypotheses which float around
Mystic lands which once existed
So many exposed to the light of day
Many more still cradled within the layers
Many interpretations, ancient chronicles
Dates back to time immemorial
Many sources and many more tales
The soul of the scripts lost long ago
None will come to know the real sentiments
Mired in the deepest secrets of yesteryear
Historians’ favorite child, philosophers guide
We can only come up with our understanding
Spend a lifetime deciphering between the lines
Many centuries of hidden anecdotes
We can only reconstruct what we decipher
We may not be close to the real meaning
The custodians have whisked away the heart
And soul of the entire episodes
Leaving us between the vagueness
Papyrus holds the words, without the meanings
Not sure of the real feelings and emotions
Maybe a rendezvous with the chroniclers
If we can travel back in time
And enter the ethereal world of these histories
Can reveal the truth and exact sentiments
Till that time, we have to live with our inferences
Maybe we are way off the mark
In a different trajectory, away from the core
An illusion we may have created form our cognizance
 Mar 2015
Poetry by MAN
Shake The Foundation* bring it to the ground
When it falls it won't make a sound
Mind blown open share third eye site
Words filled with wisdom spiritual dynamite
What does it take for people to learn?
Wallow in pain in jobs we earn
Truth is always clear as can be
Does it take a Zombie Apocalypse to save humanity?
Walking Dead at heaven’s gate
Slowly transform into what we hate
People want someone to tell them what to do
Take a bite..taste...now chew
Minds not open only speaking what's spoken
Patterns get set..hmm they need to be broken
Text me all day conversation is never clear
I prefer to hear a voice in my ear
Relationships robotic bodies become toxic
Medication for profit who created this logic?
Revolution's rebel creates the next level
Wear a halo of an Angel with horns of a Devil
From ******* beginnings..born from sinning
Acquired spells to assimilate failure into winning
Illuminating eyes behind every one is a prize
Mind butterflies carried on the winds of wise
No energy does it take to spread the hate
When focused and applied can devastate
Watch me shake the foundation bring it to the ground
Drop bombs of love...Vibrate souls with my sound..
M.A.N 3-6-15 Some slam poetry competition material..♏️
 Mar 2015
CA Guilfoyle
It is nothing hard to find
to be the stillness inside
the slowing of time
sink into the tranquil divine
the drift and melt away
of mind

It is nothing you cannot know
the unwinding slow, the softening of soul
the water trickle, splash and sparkle

It is something worthwhile
to let the moment be
swallowed by the sea
to be the shore, to sit and wait
ever at the gate of the unknown
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