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 Feb 2015 Kerli Tulva
Poetic T
Little empty one no beat of
Love, you wish to pierce
Those hearts, drain any
Thought of affection.

You wish others to bleed your
Loneliness, of a body and
Heart empty of that feeling
Of companionship.

You will shoot those poisoned
Arrows, make them bleed, seep
The regrets that you indeed feel.

Little red one, little loveless demon
Why so much hate for you do not
Feel, you do not love, is it that you
Do not have a heart so you wish
Others to feel that what you have
No feeling of love.
Cruising along the
Rushing river
Flowing with
Rapid urgency
Time’s never still
Left the anchor
To sail ahead
Finally, to be swept away
By undercurrents
Transported to
A distant shore
of a resting place
I want a sunset to the end of my day
I want to dance with a moonshadow
I want a river to enter my lake
I want an earth that quakes

I need a life hummingbird blue
I need a spiritual blessing
I need the warmth of a stranger
I need  just the mystery of you

I see the questions as unimportant
I see that there is nothing
I see that there can be everything
I see all that in the stranger of you
 Feb 2015 Kerli Tulva
Amy Perry
Home
 Feb 2015 Kerli Tulva
Amy Perry
We enter this world alone.
We leave alone, only bones.
During our stay, we call it home.
The only home we've ever known.
And we will leave, with tired feet,
All we are that we perceive,
Whom we have loved, what we have known,
Back into the deck it shall go.
Everything during our mortal stay,
We must leave here, outside of the grave.
We assume what we consume
Can build us comfortable rooms,
But the most scenic of views,
Are priceless and cannot be used,
Only borrowed from Nature's Hearth.
A gift to preserve - the gift of Earth.
Keep her clean, do her well.
Be part of the solution, in her you shall dwell,
And if you bare children to also know Mother,
Give them, too, knowledge of how to love her.
 Feb 2015 Kerli Tulva
Nirali Shah
Rays of the morning sun
Encroached the attic
From a very notorious
Broken piece of window
Exposed the little specks of dust
Suspended
In the rotting wooden walls.
Some sticking in the peeling paint
Some lying
On her mother's once famous cookbooks
Now being devoured
By selfish
silverfish and fungi.
The dust
Telling stories of her childhood
Settled upon the rocking horse
And her favourite little music box
And a carton full of holiday polaroids.
The dust
Such a dry commodity
Moistened some old memories.
Reminiscence.
Isn't it amazing?
February 10,2015
I wrote this little piece after a friend of mine suggested the word "Dust" to write about :)
the magpie stole my pen

then flapped its wings
to hide it fast
so i couldn't see it again.

i ran up the staircase

so i could see
how far could flee
in blue's cool embrace.

the day had a golden hue

up the roof
wind blew aloof
the sky said i need you.

birds were dazzled white

made pleasured cry
soared to high
stole my all eyelight.

cheerily swayed the tree

cute green leaf
in disbelief
saw me carefree.

the magpie called me then

now i bet
you don't regret
my stealing away your pain.
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