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 Jul 2016
Leonard Cohen
The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
signs for all to see.
I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring ...
You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
 Jul 2016
Stephan


Harmonies caressed my heart
in soft serenades of
whispering concertos
on the strings of my deepest desires

Acoustic symphonies,
performed on a cappella breezes
in perfectly tuned emotions,
echoed upon my longing skin

Piano compositions
sprinkled with stardust
shimmered before my enchanted eyes
in ivory colored wishes

As my mind thought back to
something I had recently read,
“A smile is worth a million melodies”
finally understanding its meaning ~

for when she smiled, there was music . . .
the most beautiful I have ever heard
Inspired by a comment recently left on one of my poems
 Jul 2016
J Robert Fallon III
Everyday the world keeps its spinning, and the oxymoron of father time catches fire to your mind.

Leaving you distraught and worried with nothing but fast paced pandemonium bouncing around the circus that can't be benign.

But one day the smoke will dissipate.

Leaving you smiling without a thing to anticipate.

Finally at peace with simplicity at bay.

Leaving you happy every single day.
 Jul 2016
SøułSurvivør
~~~<♢>~~~

olive green
Palo Verde
drape over roofs
of russet red

ochre houses
across our wide brown street
lavender
Texas Ranger
flower bed

oblique sunshine
glances off persimmon trees
sheets of clouds
Egyptian cotton
slate blue threads

black and white cat
sits by our neighbor's door
waiting to be fed

contrasts
of the morning
a pallet brush
painting

inside

my

head



SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/17/2016
Complementary or contrasting colors make colors pop! When laid against each other there is a vibrancy which can be paralleled only in heaven.

Red/Green  Yellow/Purple  Orange/Blue

What I wouldn't give for the time to paint this morning!

Thank You God for your glorious Creation!

Happy Sunday!

~~~<♢>~~~
IF you have revisited the town, thin Shade,
Whether to look upon your monument
(I wonder if the builder has been paid)
Or happier-thoughted when the day is spent
To drink of that salt breath out of the sea
When grey gulls flit about instead of men,
And the gaunt houses put on majesty:
Let these content you and be gone again;
For they are at their old tricks yet.
A man
Of your own passionate serving kind who had brought
In his full hands what, had they only known,
Had given their children's children loftier thought,
Sweeter emotion, working in their veins
Like gentle blood, has been driven from the place,
And instilt heaped upon him for his pains,
And for his open-handedness, disgrace;
Your enemy, an old fotil mouth, had set
The pack upon him.
Go, unquiet wanderer,
And gather the Glasnevin coverlet
About your head till the dust stops your ear,
The time for you to taste of that Salt breath
And listen at the corners has not come;
You had enough of sorrow before death --
Away, away! You are safer in the tomb.
 Jul 2016
Valsa George
First stage

Man and wife are equally blind
Not a single blemish comes to their sight
Like Cyclopes they are one eyed,
Each feels a love like theirs is hard to find
Every now and then they chant the litany of love
They are on an exciting expedition
Explorers rather than fellow travelers
And thrilled at every new discovery,
They stick together as two magnets,
Moving in a high powered circuit

Second Stage

They begin to taste life’s bitter juice
Between them grows a stale familiarity
Which on their face they carry like an ugly wart
Now they become Argus eyed
Nothing escapes their notice
Distance creeps into them
Tastes differ, arguments prop up
Sometimes they holler at each other
Even minor differences of opinion
Can end up as a high voltage drama

Third Stage

Both grow equally frail and infirm
Differences are ironed out
Their talk always verge on their ailments
Constipation and insomnia often surface up
In looks, they grow more and more alike
As though the long years
Have made their features blend and bleed
Even they smell similar
A mixed odor of dried cuticle
And the smell of some balm or ointment
That they liberally apply
On their aching back and stiff joints
While walking, they support each other
Careful not to slip and fall

Has the lost love come back?
Or is it all just a survival mechanism!
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