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 Jul 2016
Valsa George
Let me be,
As God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf,
Nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon,
Nor an angel,
But a true woman,
Oh! No, not the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring
Though at times touchy and itchy

A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night

An abiding spouse
In whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,

For my children, an adorable mother
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love

Piecing together these different roles
Let me, into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life!
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!

In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
 Jul 2016
Lora Lee
I will never be
ensconced in
charming lace
valentine
            hearts
candypink encased
You will not see me
withering away
back of hand
          upon brow
in fainting stance
in a flowing silk dress
swinging on a
           perfect bough
For I am a river
wild and true
sometimes quiet
sometimes
roaring and
             soaring in
shimmering hues:
Blues and greens
mixed with shades
           of earth, of fire
bespeaking emotions
in tones of desire
My river can get messy
can flood over too fast
because my heartstrings
                       get pulled
by the strength of
                        the blast
It can bring up
colored stones
in its undertow
fish and otters
spinning
in voodoo
          overflow

As the colors rise up
in this heated coolness,
                          this deluge
the influx overwhelms me
with a power so huge
and then I need
     some metallics,
flecks of silver and gold
to soothe
passion's piquancy
                when it gets
                   particularly bold
                      Specked within rocks
                    to ground me, keep
               my feet on the soil
             prevent my heart
          from slipping
       down into
     a choking,
         hot oil

Bronze minerals reflect
peaks of sadness,
     searing pain
        from rawness of hurt
          with no one to blame
             Yes, it can be a balm
                         and also a burn
to be so linked
by spirit-threads
to another, in emotions
that churn
just on the brink
but never truly there
to experience the
         fullness of rush
ripe culmination
abundant and lush

and that's when the
river turns
into molten
              lava...
and I must dig
deep under
layers of ancient strata
seeking relief
in coolness of earth
as my spirit
             again undergoes
              a kind of rebirth
For when we
grow to love
strange things
happen, indeed
       In the core of
my essence
you are the root
of my
        seed
https://soundcloud.com/musichick-1/the-colors-of-this-river-***
 Jun 2016
Stephan


Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust


“My sanity for some cool water.”

When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck


“Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch.”

Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly


“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”

When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?


“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly.”

A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
  

*“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen.”
 Jun 2016
ryn
.

Cloak of invisibility...
Render me unseen.
As I tremble with the fury of
a thousand downfalls
and untimely disappointments.
Let the complacent eye
merely skim the surface of my masquerade...
Without learning of what seethes underneath.


Cloak of invincibility...
Render me impervious...
To the callous digits that know only to point.
To the disastrous effect of heated words.
To the unforgiving nature of
my wayward thoughts and emotions.
Grant me strength and resilience
through hardened skin that promises not,
of betrayal.


Cloak of infallibility...
Render me trustworthy and honest.
So that I can rest with the knowledge
that what I feel is true...
What I feel is me.
That this isn't the result of the faint murmur
of errant gossip...
But instead the genuine exchanges
between the heart and mind.


Cloak of myth...
Render me a believer.
Aid me in finding my footing
in the blasted dark.
For...
I have been siphoned dry,
during these unsure times
that have drawn much...
Too much.


.
 Jun 2016
Stephan

Many, many years ago
When the earth was new
There lived a lovely butterfly
Her wings of brightest blue
Everyday was happy
As she fluttered all around
Visiting each precious bloom
Each garden they were found

Till one day by courier
A message she received
The news was far from happy
The words caused her to grieve
Her mate was lost in battle
It broke her fragile heart
Never more would there be joy
Her world was torn apart

To show her grief she slowly
Removed her precious wings
Discarded everything she loved
The memories they bring
Then wrapped about her body
In a way to show her grief
A drab cocoon of teardrops
Then sat in disbelief

She could not eat, could not sleep
Her sadness did abound
So worried was her family
They often came around
Not to be a burden
She packed her simple things
Rolled them in a bundle
As well, her precious wings

She took off on a journey
As every day was kept
A map of where she traveled
By every tear she wept
The sadness so consuming
Her head she held so low
Downcast eyes the path she took
A heart that’s beating slow

Crossing creeks and valleys
What ever she did meet
Touching each and every stone
Beneath her tiny feet
Around the world she traveled
Her journeys filled in length
For many days and many months
Running short of strength

About to end the story
Her broken heart near death
She prayed for time to hurry
Her last and final breath
For love had left her being
Wandering alone
That day her mate did breathe no more
The message she was shown

When seemingly from nowhere
A beauty sharp and sweet
A stone now lay upon the ground
Below these tired feet
Though different was this relic
Such beauty not concealed
The loveliness this stone possessed
Her sorrow slowly healed

It lay as a reminder
That ugliness might play
But found within this sorrow
Some beauty was displayed
And then her eyes did open
The perfect shade of brown
When then she noticed wonders
Were waiting to be found

Like diamonds in the river
A perfect flower’s bloom
So happy had she now become
She cast off her cocoon
Shook the dust from on her wings
The brightest color blue
Put them on and offered thanks
This chance at life anew

She danced the dance of butterflies
And spread her story wide
To family and friends alike
The truth she did confide
In loss there will be sorrow
But life is just a time
Remember but the good you had
And you will be just fine

In everything is beauty
All that you will see
Whether in the rising sun
Or stones beneath your feet
Always find the goodness
It lies before you eyes
I promise you’ll find happiness
When you realize

So dance with me this morning
Spread your fancy wings
Follow me this summer’s eve
And see the joy it brings
If ever you feel sorrow
Don’t forget the chance
Gives thanks to all the good you have
And let your spirit dance
Sorry, I know it's long.
 Jun 2016
Ma Cherie
So much is written
in between the pages of that book
If you're judging me by what is written,   you need to take another look

You don't know that I'm a mother
I've worked hard all my life
I raised little a family
I was my husband's wife

We had a little girl
who couldn't breathe right on her own
I wasn't even with her
I could not take her home
I had a little boy who now is six foot eight
I love my children dearly don't tell me it's too late

I  tried to be the daughter
My Father wished I'd be
I have the greatest people
who make up my family

Alone I carry burdens
not written anywhere
so don't you whisper I'm a coward
don't you EVER even dare

Like my daughters fight
to earn a spot here on this earth
what you're reading on those pages
shows nothing of my worth

I will not allow you
to trample
on my name
was given by my father
who'd put your *** to shame

I love my little family
dysfunctional and all
Your hurtful foolish words
well they really take some Gaul
I am quite intelligent
I'm sure you know it's true
I put you in your place
and now you know just who

I am.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Someone ****** me off today and I put them in their place...had to be done ;)
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