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 Apr 2017
Breeze-Mist
Fire burns in passion untold
Ice reflects and refracts in the cold
And it must be said:
Please watch your head
Their burns can scar you 'till you're old
Ice, if cold enough (think dry ice temp), can burn you.
 Apr 2017
Joy Ceye
A lexical set or a rule of three
Rhyming words or an analogy.
Iambic pentameter or just free verse
Acrostic, nostalgic without a rehearse.  

Pathetic Fallacy with cloud and rain
Feelings on a page without restrain.
A ballard, a couplet a villanelle or two
AA BB it's up to you.

Personification with trees that moan
Onomatopoeia with frogs that groan.
Similes slither like a snake in sand
Metaphor branches are our hands.

Alliteration angels always await
Sitting on the symbolic gate.
Assonace with early birds and worms
Writing it all in poetry terms.
 Apr 2017
Kurt Philip Behm
The vision intrudes,
  stealing ink from my pen

A thief in the night,
—leaving words that portend

A warning’s been given,
   its mantle thrown down

But truth will speak over,
—what darkness avows

(Villanova Pennsylvania:  April, 2017)
 Apr 2017
Jon Po Dom
I see your green pastures
Coming back to life
Hear birds singing
The woodpecker moves
To the beat of the tree
Springtime has arrived

The waters rush fierce
Moving fish in its current
Leaves slowly returning
The building blocks of life
Arching over like a tunnel
Springtime has arrived

Water droplets fall off the rocks
Creating miniature rivers
Leading to roaring waters
A stream that flows with life
Washing away my cares
Springtime has arrived

Man made beasts
Move through the paths
Post hibernation
Breathing fresh air
And little ones following closely behind
Springtime has arrived

JM 4/9/17
Went hiking with my son for the first time this season. This is what we saw, heard and felt.
 Apr 2017
Dillan Courtright
[December 30, 2016]

A brilliant statue of golden illuminated scales dances effortlessly in the sky
Twisting and turning like a bird changing air currents as if it were alive
Enormous in it's stature it blocks out the sun with powerful wings of luminosity
Flames of a dozen colors lick the air, sizzling with a hint of animosity

An evil shadow shrouds the village as the gemstone serpent soars overhead
Roaring with a thousand echoing voices, the world turns silent with dread
With a sudden shift in posture, it dives like a freshly loosed flaming arrow
The people scatter like ants beneath its hungry gaze, calling for their hero

Like a meteor, the serpent crashes into the earth with an explosion of dirt
Tendrils of fire stream from the crater as the houses erupt in bursts
Unseen mangled screams of anguish fill the scene from covered smoke
With a flap, a gust and a roar of fury, it separates air from choking cloak

Villagers stare in awe at the legendary creature standing ominously before them
Scales of crimson ruby glisten behind a furious glare of murderous intent
One brave villager steps forward, adorned in polished silver mail
The hero draws a sword, raises his shield and prepares to fail

The dragon charges forward, lashing out with tooth and claw
The knight lunges back, narrowly missing a bite from its maw
It spits fire of molten lava, melting the armor to his skin
Burning alive inside his armor, his flesh sizzles beneath his grin

Defeated and broken, he places his sword into the earth
Stumbling and shaking, he limps to the burning church
He returns with a large ruby stone in his trembling arms
He places the egg at it's mother's feet, safely unharmed

The crimson dragon solidified into a glimmering golden statue
Caressing her ruby egg against her breast, love forever true
The legends tell not a tale of a ferocious and unstoppable creature
But of a gemstone serpent, who wanted to protect her piece of nature
Author Note: The first of my "Gemstone" Series.
Gemstone Serpent [December 30, 2016]
Category: Fiction/Fantasy/Gemstone Series I.
A story about a dragon whom destroys a village in an attempt to save her child.
 Apr 2017
John Benjamin
It is not some dusty frame,
            hanging rusty nails;
                        chaotic mess.

            No es amor solo amar, to you,
                      just some language you,
                                can't comprehend.

Distraught, despaired, disheveled,
                a dystopian novel notion,
                                     romanticized.
        
                     There's no need;
you don't need to patronize.

Cold hand upon cold hand;
       lifeless smiles colluding.

                                 And as if you were a Monet sunrise,
my impression of you is that of drunken brush strokes,
                                                        ­                   dull blues,
                                               and angry orange hues,
Left on display within a rotting, wooden frame.
I am granite-

Cold yet smooth
But hard to the core.
I only break
When met with a blade.

She is moon sand-

Cool to the touch
In the most pleasurable way.
Soft and smooth
She crumbles instantly.

You are selfish-

Expecting a girl to melt
Instantly for you
Digging deeper
Until you get to her core.

Well, lucky for you
With her
You can build sand castles
And shape her into any mold
While I stand strong
Because as selfish as you are
You aren't the blade;
That will be someone worthwhile.
 Apr 2017
Hanna Mae Mata
Some days I am sure you make the sky a little bluer.
Some days I know you are part of the rain.
Some days I am convinced that if the sun will shine a little bit more, I will feel your warmth all over my bones.
Some days I believe you have become yet another color to complete the broken pieces of my rainbow.
Some days I live to see you become the missing depth of the sea. Even though our feet no longer walk on the same earth and even our eyes do not look at the same skies, you will remain here, with me, along with everything I know that is true, along with everything this world has learned about you.
This time, I would gladly keep my heart broken if it is the only way to keep a piece of it, with you, there in the heavens.
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