These eyes have often been solaced
by twilight's cotton candy pllows moving silently
towards a sky's velveteen blanket
and angels'silver gowns
By gazing over hills
to where old country church bells
and crickets play harmonious sounds
These eyes have often been solaced
by honey coloured shadows
pouring moonlight zest
across the rose plum of my cheek
By little antique lamplights
which illuminate my soul 's dark cobbled street
By winds carrying sea-salts to a fragrant golden sand
By tides washing out corals to a distant land
These eyes have often been solaced by your return
to this vacant room inside my heart
By the hush hushed whisper of your voice
By the embrace of your arms
By the way you love me
By the way you need me
By the way you want me
Like an autumn bonfire
before next sunrise'dew fall
By the way you lean on me
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop
Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi
We are polar opposites trying to connect,
Walking through a field of land mines.
Sometimes we don't make it through
Without becoming a bit maimed.
I am the steadfast flower in your garden,
The one that always grows back.
Even if abused, I find a way to blossom.
Tethered together by an invisible cord
Our deep love somehow endures.
We knew how different we were before
We felt compelled to share our lives.
We told ourselves opposites attract.
Now as age and illness becomes entwined
We have become shells of our vibrant
Selves who once took on the world united.
I refuse to succumb to the harsh winter
As I cling to the hues of our harvest years.
I will keep it at bay with songs in the sun
Warming both our hearts 'till winter comes.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong
It was a long time ago, in another age
Where the shifting of the wind
Knew where I began
A place so far away,
Somewhere distant, in childhood country
Before the fog had set in,
Before time lost all trace of me
Where have they gone?
Those merry dancers with whom I played?
When we were queens of the carnival, kings of the parade?
Before being dethroned to mid-life corners
Hearing the music, without playing the drums
They tell me to take this age with grace
Yet everywhere I turn, is young
I'm still the same, I have not changed
I lived a time where love was wild and thoughts were too
With high regard, when eyes were glued
Now inside I'm torn in two...the old and the new
Trapped between this nowhere place
Myself and someone else
Until each barrier becomes a bridge...
Have I been shaped too square by passing years, to fit in circle's place?
My memory recalls those beautiful tomorrows
Now long buried in yesterday's ground
There are other ways to measure time
Besides growing older and graying hair
Recorded music fills the room
Left playing from an earlier time
When October skies showed fading traces
Of empty days and sad old faces
The "others" of whom I had no fear
Now those shadowed remnants from my past
Are stalking at my heels
Will somebody care to ask? Will anyone need my mind?
Is there something they want to tell me?
Will they patronize, or just be kind?
Care enough, make me useful, give me value, call me beautiful?....
Not yet the age I'll someday be
Still, I feel the sting of losing me
How I ache for all those love songs
How I ache for someone needing, someone pleading...
For advice....for my worth, for an answer, will they want me?
How it haunts me.....Will they see me?
Touching me....reminding me of who I am................not just who I was...
By Carrie Richards
"Is There Something You Want To Tell Me?" sponsored by Judy Konos
Copyright © Carrie Richards
Little Tree frisked in the breeze
reaching for Willow, wanting to tease
His haste to embrace caused her to slap.
Oh, how he stung from her thunderous clap!
Old Tree brushed away the tears of Little Tree,
using bushy limbs wrinkled with time
When Little Tree finally stopped sobbing, Old Tree said:
tender wisps of willow
bent gently in embrace
may recoil with a vengeance
Copyright © John Wulf
I might make a noise right now
There will be a time when I go silent
Will you miss my racket?
In those days of silence?
I will no longer yearn for your presence
Like I do at this very moment
Will you wonder?
Will you wish?
For that good morning?
I might be a nuisance right now
I might ask you the same thing over and over
My voice will go silent
All I ask today is be patient with me
Please love me; with your ears
Please love me; with your time
Before all you will have
Is my grave and the memories…
"Thoughts of the aged - loneliness don't discriminate "
Copyright © Wilma Neels
A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano
A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
I’m never gonna quit.
I left behind some parts of me,
I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play.
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.
Copyright © Angelo Casiano
A swimming cloud became the mist;
our morning peace stirred inner light.
Before the sun rose ending night,
our honesty lit passion’s flight.
We met sea crests as morning kissed
a gently rolling shore of gulls,
white-wings seeking sea’s tranquil lull
as dawn’s light winked on distant hulls.
Soft sands of gold, our walks I’d missed.
To cradle love at break of day,
we once began each day this way,
before our golden years turned gray.
Now, hands entwined, we reminisce.
Our laughter breaks the silent dawn.
Fond memories I thought long gone,
come flooding back to carry on.
I want for nothing more than this -
our worlds collide, a second chance.
With children grown, a new romance,
upon our beach, rekindled dance.
A swimming cloud became the mist;
we met sea crests as morning kissed
soft sands of gold; our walks, I'd missed.
Now hands entwined, we reminisce.
I want for nothing more than this.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
i was six and you were nine
you would pack sunlight into a jar
tell me it was mine.
at night it lit my room.
when the stars were out
you'd throw stones to wake me up.
butterfly nets in hand
we'd catch stars from the sky
save them in our pockets.
i'd hand you my water gun
you’d load one at a time
pull the trigger
"quick wish on a shooting star."
now twenty and more old
i still have the jars
i still own every wish
i uttered silently
on those moonlit eves.
it was you
in my dreams
in my smile
i only had one wish
you and i
clad in the innocence
of those times,
of dreams and laughs
i only wished
it would never end,
and your sunshine
safe in my memories
our childhood sealed in those jars.
Sponsor: gautami phookan
Contest Name:The Sweetest Touches of Verse
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne
I can never be your fallen angel,
There can be no us in truth,
I don't wish to rip your heart out,
I must love another in my youth.
Your writing speaks an epic to my soul,
For that's what writing does,
It twists and twirls and winds around,
And makes us fall in love.
In these ways, and with my words,
I'll send passion to you,
You'll feel my love across the sky,
But I can never be just for you.
Copyright © Jay Loveless
Oh the day of Christmas 2020!
The snow has for long, been pushed further into the year.
I shan't spill a single tear.
Christmas this year is beautiful that I in my prime of Twenty Three am so glad.
I am so glad that you could spend it with me, my wonderful.
You are my breath of fresh air, my tender kiss.
You are my only Christmas wish.
Your beautiful glossy dark hair.
Followed with a loving oh so, tender stare.
You were my Christmas past.
You are my Christmas present.
And you... You will be my Christmas future.
There is no hate on Christmas day.
Tender loving care, here and away.
I’m glad that I can spend it with you.
My heart beats fast when your air fills the room.
My eyes tear up at the sound of your beautiful voice.
My hands bloom for your radiant glow.
Because I know, you know.
What I want for Christmas this year.
Copyright © Nathan Karczewski
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs
on this special day
I doest say
that thy mother is of graceful sort
it hath been said she is devine
and I do holdeth this to be true
now dearest mother may I be so bold
to tell you the sun still shinest on one so old
as true as this be
you still grasp your faith
like the roots of a tree
tis said you are wise
and this I have found true
the eye doeth grow deceived when it is drawn upon you
as your thoughts become known
only then your age is shown
Copyright © brandy wassam
Little Innocence was forged into the world
A shrill Sound flickered around the expecting eyes
Laughter carved out of marble
A statue thought to beat immortality
Yet Fear had a surprise
It crept into the cradle with ease
Laughter was choked
Tears burst instead
And Sadness had a form
Evil found in youth a red soil
Jealousy marched with Envy
Lust befriended Desire
Until cupid threw a bunch of arrows
Excitement beyond description
A Thrill with no past
Sentiments were aroused
Pride threw some words
Ego played its part
And when Love meddled to defend its territory
The Heart bled in utter silence!
© Guru Jad 2013
Copyright © Guru Jad
My cousin shared her wishes and dreams,
On our star gazing night, she whispered them so sweet
As a shooting star glided down from the sky,
She said, I wish ….. I wish…. all I wish are these tonight
Someday, I will marry a smart, rich and handsome guy
And have a grandiose banquet on my nuptial rite
We’ll be dancing like a lovely prince and princess ,
With all my wedding sponsors on their best suits and dresses
All in pink ,that’s the motif I will surely request.
She kept into her dreams as several years passed by,
Still searching for her prince charming who’s hard to find
Unconsciously going beyond the age to give birth to a child,
In a hurry at age of seventy, she took a rich ninety years old guy.
The wedding was held after a day or two,
The guy seated on his wheelchair with rheumatism on his toe
She headed slowly at the alter to accept his shaking hands,
Two nurses followed, so with sponsors dressed up in printed brown.
The highlight of the wedding rite started at once,
They held tightly with a nebulizers on the other hands,
But the words of oath, they took time to pronounce
False teeth were both misplaced and nowhere to be found.
Reception followed grandiosely in the guy’s mansion,
I saw many old men and women still eager to dance on the floor,
With hunched back, shaking knees, they twisted rock and roll
Then, sweet music played and my cousin danced with her groom.
But, we all wondered how did he stand alone?
He’s so heavy , I knew my cousin couldn’t help him at all,
With our great surprise, his nurse was at his side like his crutch
Everyone thought , he’s really a smart guy! Was he not?
Then, everyone followed them so happily on the spacious hall,
And in trio, they held each other so tight and moved like a fool.
Written: Sept. 15, 2012
Contest: My Cousin's Wedding (funny poem)
Contest Judged: 9/30/2012
Poet Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Copyright © Leonora Galinta
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski
How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.
Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.
Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.
Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies, under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Copyright © James Fraser
Cessation the love
Household has been scattered
When love lost
Humming in the community
Malicious gossip in the society
Disorder in the society
Degrading the society
Society has been scattered
When love lost
Humming in the state
Malevolent rumour in the state
As the day chameleon to night
Insomnia in state
State is not at peace
State has been scattered
When love lost
Mystery to nation
When love lost
Oh! It is a dream
Why do we stop loving
When love exist
Love is above all existent
Copyright © Afolabi Muideen
I do not know?
Quantum leap, material mind,
learning curve steep, perceptive mankind,
this earth inherited to keep, in the depth eyes shined,
the karmic benefits we reap, after money too long pined,
in the shadows they did creep, by our light left blind,
hearts awaken from their sleep, each ventricle gold lined,
More awake each enlightened peep, open hearts, contemplative minds; you'll be amazed at
what you find.
Been crawling, now it’s time to walk, too long the masses talking the talk.....
Copyright © Lance Lawlor
This poem was inspired by my best friend and her troubles: )
We go out on our first date,
We go back to your house,
Your parents are asleep,
We go to your bedroom,
You tell me you love me and that you will take care of me,
I wake up thinking of last night your laying next to me holding me,
You wake up and look at me and smile,
You lean over and kiss me,
I feel like you are the best thing to ever happen to me,
You are my first love,
Little do we know what’s happening,
Nine months latter we are parents,
We are planning our marriage,
Our lives are set in stone now,
We are parents at age fifteen, engaged at age fifteen,
Life has just left our eyes,
Now we are two teens in love living on their own parents disowned them, child with them
drop outs of high school and working jobs to survive.
What a stupid mistake we made at age fifteen.
Under aged sex is not a smart choice unless you want my life….
Copyright © Emily Rakis
Between happiness and sadness
—silence; an angel prays:
I kiss the loneliness of old people,
their temples like handfuls of winter;
are used baggage,
memories speak to them,
they smile and
tell me stories from their youth
silence passes unspoken
—they remember the dead.
I kiss the loneliness from their temples
and sadness lifts from their mouths.
From my first book: 'In Forbidden Language'
©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010
all rights reserved
Search Amazon Books: "in forbidden language/dah"
Copyright © Dah Lusion
I looked at you when we were young!
I saw a future of love and hope.
I looked at you ten years later,
our love and trust could always cope.
I looked at you as twenty years past,
thinking then our love could not last...
I walked away and then came back
to the love we once had...
Now eight years later time flies by,
we live, we love in times good and bad.
I sit and look at you and imagine ten years from now...
Hoping, believing that time will keep our vow...
To have and to hold until death us do part,
your hands, tenderness and love keeps my heart.
Together we walk hand in hand,
forever bound to walk this land.
To walk in love and faith and trust,
to have, to hold, our love a must...
You were my love when first we met,
and will forever that is no bet...
I love you my special friend and wife,
I always will, for the rest of my life...
I love you...
Copyright © Pernell Rodocker
If anyone is wondering what it's like
To be seventy-eight years young
Gotta tell ya, it's not what I expected
Thought by now I'd have come undone
It's not at all how I thought it would be
This dude's still on top of his game
Still watching all the pretty ladies go by
My lust for these fillies is the same
Whether one is twenty or seventy
Still drool at the sight of short shorts
Dreaming of when the world was new
Chasing girls was a real fun sport
This might be a surprise to a lot of souls
Who think we become old and frail
Gonna destroy that myth right here and now
Though our drive is lower on the scale
Minds don't change, we're the same upstairs
Our body betrays us, heaven knows
We still have all the equipment, so visuals
Send shockwaves down to our toes
So if you're wondering, I'll tell you straight
Worry not, you'll still feel the urge
Only difference is, takes a while to respond
It's still heaven when you feel that surge
© Jack Ellison 2013
Copyright © Jack Ellison
The Hours of Alzheimer
It starts ticking away slowly
Longer needed to search what’s known.
Watching the hand jerk
“Twelve is for noon, then?”
“Yes. Yes, Daddy! Just like that.
Twelve noon is lunch.”
Very gently, oh so sweetly,
Out of love and kindest thought
Offering words and filling fissures
Keeping pace and instant beating
“The, oh, you know, the oh how silly, the the box thing”
“Yes, the box thing, the clock, Daddy. Says it’s 3 and time for tea.”
Now impatience starts its tapping
Chasms stretching longer still
Wanting this moment
to stop its running
“I I please fork I I food”
“Oh, of course, dear Daddy. Dinner time.
Here, your fork. ”
Lingering in the distance
This cavity expanding
“ I I I I”
“Oh it’s last course time Daddy. Some dessert, then time for bed.”
Dead of night
First published: Poetry Quarterly
Copyright © Heather Browne
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing thee, thyself in turn.
Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke –
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.
I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore –
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.
Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.
I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more –
remembering thy portrait in my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions, mind alert, thy hungering to learn.
Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.
I watch thee grow, and will, forever more –
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.
‘Tis all I have.
Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee.
Break loose those prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain –
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft –
all a capella – pure and long.
Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.
Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.
Copyright © Lorenz Lynn
Is it me or is it that love is just not meant for me
Is it me or is it my emotions leading me this way
im scared that im not meant for love
Is it cause im young what is it
someone HELP !!!!!!
my emotions are killing me and my future relationships if I ever get one
no one excepts me for who I am but ........ will see
Copyright © TERESA MORENO
Did our Age of Aquarius evaporate,
fail to regenerate,
fall too far short of what our parents
knew we should anticipate?
Free love could not sustain
weak non-violent resolutions against
whatever they were for.
Yet, if love is synergy,
and creation is this co-passion's regenerate transgeneration,
how could love cost more than free?
How could co-redemption not invest everything
in learning how to cooperatively Be,
free of enslaving supremacist becoming,
free to come together as ecological We?
Those who stop to count these costs of love,
look for ways to divest of co-opportunity,
ignoring Earth's mentoring economy
of light's photosynthetic comprehensive consciousness,
of neutral's dark unconsciousness,
a fog bank evaporating as double-binding time and rhythm
pattern and color RNA's free-fractal love connection.
If Time's eternal unfolding presence is 0-dimensional,
and Nature's bicameral perception is 2-dimensional prime,
bicameral form with function,
ego emerging from eco,
yang incarnating double-yin,
reiterative communicative processors
borrow RNA's decomposing 3-space with 1-time prime bilateral dimensions,
Shy winterish Uracil of Universal freely decomposing love
greets Cytosine's full summer-formed regeneration,
as objectives greet their past and future subjects;
while Adenine painlessly springs
for Guanine's lavishly com-posted integrative harvest,
as verbs form fractal-recycling nouns,
verbal con-science revolutions,
relearning Earth's organic language,
by echoing universal polypathic syntax.
Universal monocultural power of governance
becomes a Left-brained dominant and reductive tyrant,
an Emperor reified of clothes
to cool His naked Ego-thirst.
when power remains integral within co-passionate,
synergetic uniting cooperatism,
then naked power conjoins dark yin-time-ations,
shy bigendering romantic camouflage,
re-birthing this post-millennial
Age of Aquarius.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck
I will knit my love for you
Into the tapestry of my heart
The girdle of your affection
Cinched tightly about me
Residue of past relationships
Piled in tidy heap
Like winter's logs
To be consumed by fire and then to ash
What does love have to do with it they say
But what is the value of anything without love
If I should give you everything but not love
How can the softest organ be enshrined to keep
I will ask this question instead
What does age have to do with it
The answer forthcoming would be
Age holds no barrier to love
I love you Sean
Copyright © Joy Wellington