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 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Mike Hauser
fears
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Mike Hauser
sitting in the corner there
are some of my deepest darkest fears
with their backs against the wall
so they can keep an eye out for

the ones that slip underneath my bed
as i lay down my weary head
that like to hide out from the light
and love to come out in the night

to slide along the cold chilled floor
to open up the closet door
so more fears can invade my room
and fill my mind with doom and gloom

that leaves me often shivering
until the light of morning brings
some relief from being scared
in my room with my deepest darkest fears
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
wordvango
one day
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
wordvango
pants
it all begins and ends with thread
just when one thread unravels the
enormity of the situation depends
on exactly where
one day i
will sew up the rip
in my crotch of those blue jeans
that left me open to the public
on main street and figure
out why I kept
tugging
away at that
one
string
in the first
place
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Kelly Rose
Young love,
Bitten by the Rose’s thorn
Giving the lovers’ their first blush
Powerful imagery stirring memories
Of first love, of true love

There was a time when
He would have suffered
Her pain as his own
So connected were they
That even in dreams they were one

Sadly, Rose’s thorn
Left its poison behind
And betrayal cut
Deep and true
Its ravaged scars
Leaving an indelible stain
Upon their souls

Bonds torn asunder
Young love’s blush
Turned scarlet red

How I yearn to warn the lovers
Of the Rose’s devious ways
Slyly infusing their love
With betrayal’s bitter pain

For in that moment
When they thought
Love was won…
Well, I guess that’s why
First love’s wound
Colors forever one’s love

Kelly Rose
© January 27, 2017

This poem was inspired by an image - The Thorn by Charles West.  Here is a link to the portrait is you wish to view it.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CharlesWestCope-The_Thorn.jpg
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Nico Reznick
Never enough.
Never enough of anything.
It's always running low,
running out.
Money, energy, time.

The fuel gauge
threatens empty.
The bank balance
teeters and tips
into the red.
Almost out of smokes, and there's
one last shot
in the bottle.
The car tax expires
in two days.

You've been
exhausted
since forever.
You can't kid yourself
that you're young any more.
Clocks tick
just to **** with you.
It's dark, but
not as dark
as it gets.
More or less tongue-in-cheek.
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Mike Hauser
I went down to the hardware store
Took a jar of change along
Found the isle that sold the rope
Made my way back home

Waited till my family went to bed
I feel like an awful dad
Tip-toed my way down the hall
Took the rope from out the bag

I passed by each of the kids rooms
Sweet angels in their sleep
I wonder in the morning
What they will think of me

Then right there quite knowingly
Was my 60 inch T.V.
Glaring back at me
I felt weak in the knees

As I tied the T.V. up
I tried to keep the noises down
I struggled way too much
Knew I should have bought a lighter brand

I finally made it to the street
Tossed it into the waiting trunk
If a cop happens to pull me over
I'll spill my guts on what I've done

Where as he will shake my hand
Call me an outstanding citizen
Might even give me an escort
Him and all of his cop friends

I'll drive to the tallest bridge
Where I will not hesitate
To toss it off the edge
Into a watery grave

Then on the ride back home
I'll reflect on what I did
And what I did was this
I saved myself, my wife, my kids

I also thought you might feel the same
After the reading of this poem
So I took some extra change
And I bought some extra rope

I can be there late tonight
Parked by the curb out front
The car will be in gear and running
With the open waiting trunk
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
K Balachandran
The hesitant shadow
of a melancholy poet,
while walking on it's
wobbly undefined legs,
result of light losing to darkness,
speaks to the alert poetic self,
listening with perked up ears,
in a strange dialect of darkness
about 'being in nothingness'
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
jiminy-littly
isn't it time

for penitence?

I just forget everything

and don't talk to anyone

except for you, dear Lord, you are my ball and chain

having died and come back again I get to look back
watching old movies of myself,
sleeping last night off, leg twitching
dreaming of moving along a motorcade of immanent death

one by one getting flat tires, running out of gas, suddenly the battery
dies

I get out of the car, look around, and see, to my surprise

a loved one's love looking back at me, twisting in the wind, empty, alone, drunk,
its my father or mother lifting my brother or sister from the back seat to the front, carelessly driving, ceaselessly swerving

towards the waterway

if it wasn't for the guardrail,  we'd all be dead

time is a ritual now, and it hurts to come back to life, to feed the living,
to get dressed in day-old church clothes, to hit back, as one sneers at being sneered at, I pick up the Daily and skim the headlines, Lost and All Alone, A Stranger Takes a Dive, toss the rag and head to work, fixing to lie to my boss about being sick, about tasting olives, about who I am.
 Jan 2017 Twinkle
Austin Morrison
Finding a reason to live is harder than finding a needle in a hay field. You don't quite where to look but you know what you are looking for is out there. Your hands and knees will get ****** from searching, and at times you might feel like giving up. but when you finally see that this piece of metal shine you will get the most forgiving sense of relief. Like everything you have had to worry about is just gone. When I first saw you the sun reflected off your eyes and there was the most beautiful sparkle I have ever seen in my life. I found what was to be the smallest needle in the hay field we call earth. And all the pain and suffering I tried to cover up with cheap perfume and mindless lust was replaced with the smell of freshly bloomed roses and passion. You were the girl that gave me a reason to live, to love and to see how beautiful this world can be. You made me remember why I am alive.
This is my first write in over almost two years. I know it's bad but there is someone I love to much not to write about them.
I'm scared and
It's such a familiar feeling
Because everything we are
Once did
And always will
Make me unstable on my feet
Stepping up again
Like we are
To try to restart a history
That has been set on repeat
Is so dangerous
Possibly even
Unwise
Yet here we go
Praying that
This time
It will actually be different
And knowing what I know
Which is what I stand to lose
I'm so ******* afraid
That not for lack of trying
*I'm still not Good enough
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