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Joe Momma May 2018
A little bumblebee
Caught in spider's silk
Sings the call of his people.
Awtumn May 2018
I've known you as one name.
I nickname
I thought you preferred.
I've gotten so used
To using it.
But I love your name.
I think it suits you.
So I'll call you by one name,
Sing it to the sun.
Breathe it out
Like a breeze in the summer.
But your other name,
I'll whisper to the stars.
Let in fall from my tongue
Like a prayer to the moon.
Steve Page May 2018
Lord of life,
of colour and colour,
of breeze and light.
Lord of bluebell and butterfly,
of birdsong and birds' flight.

Lord of space to think,
of time to rest.
Lord of movement,
of stillness.

I sit here and I confess
complete adoration,
my sunshine celebration
of this, your full spectrum,
this rainbow-wide gifted creation.

I sit and give thanks
for this sustained life,
of greens and blues in yellow light,
of this colour full to the brim life,
of fresh composed songscape,
this God given escape.

I thank you, Lord, for this gateway,
this fresh every morning,
gifted new day.
Lovely visit to Hadfield in Derbyshire.
It was as if the ghostly hands of his very soul had grasped my two shoulders and shook me till I was numb. A violent whirl of emotions had consumed my entire being and the feeling was so abrupt I almost felt sick. The moment the first sound escaped his lips I was captivated. I was his devoted prisoner, locked in his head. His heart.
His voice was so disturbingly beautiful.
His aura overflowed; the dark passion he dispersed with every note he sang took me to a place only he had been. A place he created. A place where he was alone. I felt so special, so important, to be the first person he had taken to this place.
His lips trembled as his voice slowed to a stop. My soul slowly gravitated back to its rightful place in my body, though I preferred being way up high with the stars, with the power of the universe, the place of which Evan goes when he sings, I knew I would always end up in this shell.
Orange Rose May 2018
Every night I’m lulled to sleep,
By the dripping of heavy dew,
By crickets as they play their song,
By the Owl asking, “Who?”

But just before I fall asleep,
I hear a *****’s Scream.
The foxes are mischievous,
As they prance beside the stream.

A moth is fluttering on the glass,
She’s enchanted by the light,
Of the little lamp beside the bed,
To keep away the Night.

And once the light is gone again,
And everything is still,
The cicadas sing a special song.
I’m delighted by their trill.

And when I can’t resist it,
When my time to sleep grows nigh,
I close my eyes and listen,
To a Southern Lullaby.
stargazer May 2018
Sing, my love
As if you are whole
Sing, like a dove
With your whole soul

Let the melody carry you away
Let the harmony send you to a better day
Let the cadence fill you
Let the rhythm ring true

Sing, my dear
Let it wash away your pain
Sing, without fear
The air with music, you must stain

Let the melody carry you away
Let the harmony send you to a better day
Let the cadence fill you
Let the rhythm ring true

Sing, darling
No more crying
Sing, let your voice carry
To the end of infinity
If laughter is the best medicine, music is the perfect antedote
Orange Rose May 2018
I sometimes sit alone at night,
All huddled up and out of sight,
And listen to the whippoorwill;
She welcomes darkness with her trill.

Her feathers bear no colored spot,
A peacock’s beauty, she has not,
But still, she perches calm and proud,
As she sings her name aloud.

She doesn’t know that she is plain,
And continues singing her refrain,
I smile, knowing all along;
Her beauty rests within her song.
Robert Ronnow May 2018
I'm dead. Unlike Frost and Yeats
nothing I've said will be remembered.
Unlike Roosevelt and Lincoln
nothing I'm thinking will win the war.

I'm going to go to my grave unsung
like almost everyone. These mountains
are my grave. A good grave
to go to. There's no such thing

as being saved. When you're gone
you're done. At least 60 million
people don't believe it, don't believe
in evolution. Man, that ape,

can heap a peck of hurt posthaste
with earth movers and machine guns.
Information technology
cannot save your soul, heck,

I've tried. Every morning
I total the polloi
coming to my site for wisdom.
The number's usually zero.

A good number to know.
When my heart fibrillates
I lay my head
against my sleeping wife.

Solace, comfort. She says,
Take your pill, fool.
In an hour at most
I'm feeling great again!
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Salmabanu Hatim May 2018
Love,let me be your warm woollen blanket,
Waiting patiently on your bed,
For night to unfold,
And so would you me.
Ready for bed,you would reach out for me,
Touch me,
Lift me,
Hug me,
With ease wrap me around your self,
Snuggle underneath me,
Clutch me tight,
In case I don't slid away.
It would be you and I,
Your soft breaths and my warmth,
Will lullaby us to sleep every night.
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