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 Oct 2015 M
Eudora
Whisper of Hope
 Oct 2015 M
Eudora
I hope...
*I have returned a small fragment of kindness
you are giving the world every second of your life.
 Oct 2015 M
pluie d'été
What do you write to the saddest girl in the world?
Do you write about the beauty in the moon
The way its reflection
Stains the waves white?

Do you write about the way the rain
Falls on the surface
Of the water
And how it looks from underneath
Dancing with the oxygen
You exhale


Do you write about the wind
Tearing
Caressing
Green
Red
Brown
Yellow
Non- existant leaves?

Do you tell her
About your cheeks stinging
When the sky is grey
And how it feels to have drizzle
Falling across your closed eyes?

Do you tell her about the little boys
Who pick flowers
Just to see her smile
Or the girls who spend minutes
Writing her name?

What do you tell the saddest girl in the world?

Do you tell her
That everything is infinite
Or that it is necessary
For all things great
To end?

Do you tell her
About the flowers
You see
And the smiles
You can no longer count

Or do you tell her about the flowers
That lose their petals when she
Forgets their beauty
And the people who fade away
When all she sees
Is grey
Grey
Grey
Emptiness

Do you tell her
When you miss her smile
Or do you kiss the tears
Off her cheeks
And dance with her
Slowly
Across the bed
With rumpled sheets
And lines
And lines
Of sunlight

Do you tell her
That you love her
Without her sadness
(God, I hope you do)
But with it too

Or will you
Never tell her
The way she never tells you
And will you keep
The receipt
That she had written
About never telling the person you love
The most

How much you love them.
 Oct 2015 M
Left Foot Poet
only I know
when I email you
tidbits of life,
that I need only
address you as b,
for in a nano second,
my tablet will acknowledge
that I am writing in secret code to mine own
beloved



~~~
7:05 am
NYC
 Oct 2015 M
Nat Lipstadt
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
 Oct 2015 M
Aeya Jean Johnson
To trust,
Let people in,
Relationships.
That's what he said.
That psycologist with
Grey hair
Thinning,
Just like my relationships.
Lonely, hating, loathing myself,
Pain being controlled by addictions,
Shame,
My same shame increases the circles,
Addictions,
Running circles in my head--
Wanting to draw circles with a knife.
STOP THINKING.
My circles of friends growing smaller,
Isolate as the weather becomes cold,
My heart, iced, caged,
No trust, no love.
No one could love me anyway.
Right?
Wrong way thinking through this thick head
Makes it worse.
Wearing through my thin soul,
This pain, pleasure?
No. Run run away from this,
Soles of my shoes thining,
Just like the grey hair--
The psychologist's head.
Trust, love, relationships.
No shame in mistakes.
Let people in?

I always thought I never needed that.
But I was always so wrong.
 Oct 2015 M
Realeboga M
Guess who
 Oct 2015 M
Realeboga M
Welcome to my testimony.
Silently allow my words to infiltrate your mind and create this imagery of a matrimony.
Allow these words to cluster your mind,fill your heart as your veins pop with excitement as I take you through the ceremony.

I was battered,
Emotionally tattered.
I saw my soul walk away from me.
I watched my demons come at me in forms of alcohol, pills, depression and anxiety.
I ran to the corners and they whispered for me to confide in them.
I choked on my words as these monsters were inside my ear, inside my head, I covered my eyes as they were lurking in. Smirking to me and telling me it was over.
I tried to run to you but I couldn't, tried to express myself but I felt like a broken statue.
I forced myself but still nothing.
I was worried, terrified, petrified, all the words in the dictionary.
I tried to say something but my vocabulary left me,
My pronunciation betrayed me.
I felt myself slip from your grasp.
I shouted and screamed as I watched your eyes fill up with black ink.
You closed your eyes as you let go of me.

As I was falling off,
The wind tried to push me up,
Tried to save me but the demons fell heavy on them that they let go.
I fell back first on the pointy rocks,
Vertebrae cracking as it made contact with the rocks,
Ribs cracking while stabbing deep into my broken heart.
I laid there for months.
Wallowing in the heat while embracing the heat.
Thinking about you

It took me a while to realise you're worth the fight.
That you're the reason for my blissful nights.
You were my teddy when I was scared, I always held on to you tight.
But I let you go that day
I never fought for you with all my might.

And I apologise.
You're my freedom,
My emotions, my thoughts
My only hope in this world.
Poetry you're the one.
And I'm back for you.

Watch as I please you with my lyrical words.
As I go bases higher than third.
As my words hit you to home run.
As my words become the golden goal.
Poetry I'm back for you.
I'm back for you always poetry.
 Oct 2015 M
beth fwoah dream
the poetry meanders like
a pleasant stream
singing of autumn leaves,
    
breath as tranquil as a star in
the blue night,

our margins gather space
wait for the poetry to emerge
like trembling smoke,

our love rushing to wake
to gather songs of an
october sea.
just discovered my book is ranking 115 in the world under english poetry at barnesand noble.com very, very exciting! if you want to buy  it just use this link.
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/and-then-i-returned-to-you-you-my-poet-of-the-water-beth-st-clair/1115678228?ean=2940016506258
 Oct 2015 M
David Hall
men don't cry
 Oct 2015 M
David Hall
eyes water
throat burns
heart wrenches
mind churns

know it’s a weakness
but can’t hold it back
fight it too hard
whole world turns black

emotion?
empathy?
frailty?
strength?

have to **** it
that place inside
that feels so much
it breaks the sky

a real man today
for the very first time
everyone knows
real men don’t cry
 Oct 2015 M
E Copeland
Untitled #2
 Oct 2015 M
E Copeland
we said
we were both better off
but that didn't wash the
metallic taste of blood
from biting my tongue
and begging you to stay.

they say
a watched *** never boils
and that is why I turned my back on the door,
still hoping you would come through it
and say I'm home.


you said
we were forever
but you're the boy
who never could fully love
and I'm the girl
who loved too much
and together we were
chaos and destruction,
a shattered glass in a child's hands.
 Oct 2015 M
Carsyn Smith
If we are but grains of sand,
he is a warm embrace and soft kisses as
she is the single pearl ring given to a blushing date.
If we are but grains of sand,
he is the oyster that works like a factory and
she is now part of the bracelet given to the new bride.
If we are but grains of sand,
he is the hands that pries her free but
she is already in the long necklace hanging from the neck of a grieving widow.
If we are but grains of sand,
he is the greatest lie and
she is the most lovely tragedy.
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