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 Jan 2018
Traveler
As if a giant wand
Pointed down from the sky
In a big bang your soul
Magically arrived
I fell down
To my wandering knees
I've never felt a soul
   So lovely indeed...
In the simple proximity
Of heaven on earth
Beautiful creatures hath
Creatively giving birth
Dreams in the flight
In the hours of rest
Passion that peaks
In a flash of the flesh
Surely your poems
I like the best
......
Traveler Tim
 Jan 2018
Valsa George
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts

The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,    
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable  
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.

Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole

The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,  
all else is dead…… !  
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow
Only others can throw a little light in the dark lives of its hapless victims!

(With a heart heavy with gratitude, let me acknowledge my poet friend -  Kim Johanna Baker who gave sunshine to my poem who has thus honored me several times !)
 Jan 2018
ryn
Someday will come for us.
Till then our blemished secrets
and tarnished dreams only lay in wait.

Our hands may now yield nothing...
But “someday” sleeps quiet
at the back of our minds.
Awaiting for enough time to elapse.

Someday can never be rushed.
It can never be summoned.
It will come when it comes
and when it does, we’d hardly notice
it’s arrival because the anticipation
and longing will be replaced by overwhelming happiness and relief.

So wait...
It will come.
Someday “someday” will be today.
 Jan 2018
Francie Lynch
I went out for some air
As Ophelia's winds ripped Cavan
With whips and cracks,
Swaying wires til they met like Gothic lips
Whistling a lilting melody
In a wave winding along the Carrick Road.
They wailed as banshees,
Warning men with crosses,
Women in seclusion,
Screeching in their ears,
The fairies left their hillocks,
The cairns are empty vaults;

Ophelia drowned out prayers that night,
And slipped for Scotland's shore.
Hurricane Ophelia, Oct. 2017.
I ask the price before buying.

There's a price tag for everything
upon the breakeven a levied charge
for life has not one bit
bought sans the urge to profit
taken home void of bargain
friend, lover, companion
at a price not to be alone
without a fallout of gain or pain
of sweet or bitter taste
lifelong joy or sooner regret.

Do I have a price?

As for my own
I feel always underpaid..

the woman I took to the bed
the child I raised
friends and companions
seem all miserly in paying the dues..

maybe they rue too
I haven't paid theirs.
 Jan 2018
Nat Lipstadt
the sun’s veins  

a unique thot, it's magi source:

naǧí  


my poem-joy instant-isthmus arises
and asks that I  
cross, connect,  
write of the sun’s veins that we will be forever unable
to see


but the veins will  heat yours - and it is not shared blood it warms,
it is poem joy
<•>


a warmth organism that leaves one gasping wrestling
for words  
so weakly I am grasping the connection
that snakes across
globes

and the poem joy that has no end, no boundaries  -
that full fills me

And I say,
thank you
6:25am
 Jan 2018
Mike Hauser
I can't help it, I've got the shakes
I'm back to see the man
He rolls it tight just the way I like
Adds a little extra if I ask

He must have gotten a special order
Isn't that a deeper shade of green
Perhaps from the South of Asia
Where they grow the finest **** across the sea

There's a tingle of excitement
At all the variety
As my man rolls up a little something special
He knows what pleases me

He's got to know just what it does
Measuring the product as I watch
Not speaking a word, the place is silent
The anticipation, almost to much

My mind and mouth are salivating
The whole table is lighting up
We're all so very happy
To be having "sushi" again for lunch
Repost the toast
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