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ODE TO OLDE- FASHIONED LOVE

in life, a vow made is a vow kept- into
a lovers open arms, willing to commit
ready to be swept, together, having voices
climb declaring themselves, to sing sweet
as the heart jumps, leapt through the chest
overcome with feelings, nothing is greater
than a love to pursue, if you find the one
keep her, make her your own, sweep her into
your arms as you woo her tenderly, for when
it comes to a love ordained, nothing will keep
a man from a woman willing to share love so true

by Michael Perry
plenty of time
for something,
if you want everything
get up earlier.

I sat for a while
my mind
quite still and quiet
to listen,
I heard nothing but the
noise of emptiness
that surrounded me
and all surreal to me
as if Dali had visited me
and left a painting.
Ziegfield girls with Gatling guns
in complete synchronization,
decked out in Erté.
Watch your step, soldier,
for what's often considered foreplay.

Much like Peter and the Wolf,
one thing leads to another
on this daisy chain,
and as you know,
Burke's only jealous of Lorainne.

I'll tell you what,
dress warm for the ******* snowstorm,
and there'll be a place alongside
such an ingenue.
But what a terrible let down
it would be to find out
she was always smarter than you.
Erté (pronounced AIR TAY): Romain de Tirtoff's pseudonym; he was a 20th-century artist and designer in an array of fields, including fashion, jewellery, costume and set design for film, theatre, and opera.
Art
I am not a starving artist
I have been well nourished
By the sound and seasoned
Crumbs from
The words and music
Paintings and dancers
Athletes and doctors
Parents and teachers
Students and others
Now to savor and
Digest
Drifting into the past,
tomorrow slipped further away

Drifting into the past,
my writing had little to say

Drifting into the past,
the moments became moments no more

Drifting into the past
—being no longer certain or sure

(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)
I have not written in quite some time.
I have not jotted down my thoughts or committed to a rhyme.
But I think of poems each day,
of words spun with careful concentration.
I believe in the mind and its prowess,
and of the power I possess.
While I have taken a break,
I refuse to sit and stop,
for I am not done writing.
I have greatly missed this place and the people I have encountered. I have missed poetry.
 Feb 2021 David Hilburn
Ciel Noir
you bring fire
and you bring fear
love that turns my heart to steel

there is so much more out here
so much more
that I can feel

I still wander
the same streets
the same path
through the same night

but without you
this same sky
is suddenly

so full of light
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