Hey, you
Yeah, you
the one way over there
ensconced in tall grasses
where do you
think you are
going
you extend a hand
and loving heart
to so many
and so few
see your brokenness
your pieces of shattered
glass from
all four of those
muscled-*****
blood-flowing
chambers in your chest
              all over the floor
And Hey
I see you
I see you deep
Your molecules rising
Up unto
that soul's
brightness and
so beautiful
outlook
wisdom gained
from time
mixed with pain
             and rhyme
Hey
Let me
wrap my tendrils
of healing all and up
around you
right through you
Hush
No need to talk
         Just let me
press my
blood-pumping heart
right into
        yours
Feel it
Let my light
infuse you
Let me touch you
deep into
under skin
just like
you
    touch
            me

The monsoon cloud swooped low
to **** her
and the night seemed to wear
the darkest cloak

Three miles down south
she had gone to the weekly haat
for half a litre of earth oil
thru mud as thick as her desire
for a small glow in her thatched hut

When she reached the stream
she paused on the brink
and then like an added note
to the music of rain
her swan little frame
glided to the other bank

The wind was shivering
but she was warm in the dream of
one small light in her home
to **** the demon of dark

his writing caught everyone’s attention
like an artist i once saw on the street in québec
he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal
i asked to take his picture
he obliged

this writer is also canadian
and paints masterpieces
with words

his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges
brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged
for starker strokes of reality
tinged with weathered wisdom
creating shadows in his work
accentuating the light

there’s not a write of his
that does not stir emotions
his words linger
rolling around in your head
bumping into each other
morphing into new connotations
his easel alive

you wonder if he did that on purpose?
could anyone have that kind of talent?
yes…..his brush continues flowing
even after the paint is dry

suddenly at midnight i awaken
and hear another morsel
a word, a phrase, a color
that only made itself known
in the dark of night

understanding he's a favorite
i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh
when he contracted cancer
would he now leave his canvas dry?

no, this courageous artist
bravely took his palette
and continued painting
his words that us awaken
now e’vn more radiant
with tragedy astride

and ‘tho he talks of dying
i pray that he will stay
but should his spirit fly
we have seen a master show us
how to walk into the light

©2016janetaylorhardy

It was springtime in the capital.
I visit here every year on this day.
Cherry blossoms are abundant
everywhere I look warm spring sunshine.
The wall is long and filled
with the names of the fallen.

I look for the name
of my boyhood friend Joseph Reilly
It is always hard to find.
So many names so much sadness.

We served together in Nam
I hear the explosion
the flash of the landmine.
He gave his life that I might live
a gift beyond any gratitude.

A shaft of sunlight falls
onto the gold filigree
of the names on the wall.
On my white shirt they reflect
like on a screen.
I see his name on me
as though he is reaching to me
to say I love you man.

A cloud passes the sun
and his name melts from my shirt
On the wall it stays

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have been on the road
made the world my family

The sun and the moon you robbed
stars you made your countless eyes
but for you
I would have flown where eagles rise
made my home in the sky

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have gone down the flow
a speck of moonlight
in the sparkling shadows of night
hanging on a leaf like poetry!

Did you see them take the green fields
one by one, now line by line on hills in echelon?

Still, holding ground held holy by their sons;
no longer marching to the smoke and drum.

Where bugler called the day to final rest,
now silence grows like lichen on the stones.

For those who gave their all at our behest,
our memories alone will not atone.

Do you see the fires burning at a distance,
and more hallowed ground broken day by day?

Each new stone laid a fading reminiscence;
each new boquet soon fading into gray.

What better way to honor sacrifice
than to pause and speak their names aloud.

Until the gods of war are pacified;
until our flag no longer serves as shroud.

Where has time gone,
It is zero hour,
At the precipice of ages,
Aging and it won't stop.

I see myself younger
In the ocean's reflection
Just below, I would
Jump to him for wisdoms sake.

I am at the edge,
Where ever this might be,
Sidesteps, tip toeing,
Between yesterday and nowhere.