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Don't stop! The most popular and best Demise poems are below this new poems list.

The Demise of a Newborn Dragonfly by Buhagiar, Victor
Tale Of Righteous And Just Demise Of Old Jack by Lindley, Robert
THE DEMISE by Trifiatis, Demetrios
Death Did Become My Sad Demise by Horn, James
Jimmy Chongs Demise by Cunningham, Tom
Demise and The Tide of Hope by sensele, john
Marriage Demise In A Cantakerous Canteen by sensele, john
Demise by Chapman, Briana
Clyde's Demise by Hinshaw, Robert L.
Our Demise by Evans, C

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The Best Demise Poems

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Tell the Night to Hold Me


I made for you, a castle
     But I built it in the sand
          I steadfastly tried to constrain the tide
               But the bastions didn't stand

I planned for you, an Eden
     With needs to see us through
          But the ripened fruits had corrupted roots
               And I fed them all to you 

          Tell the night to hold me
          I no longer have your arms
          I'll brood and swoon, cradled by the moon
          Still pining for your charms

          Tell the night to hold me
          June no longer follows May
          'Til the moonbeams, blue, drift me back to you
          I'll forget about you ... every day.

I dreamed for you, a family
     With two parts that acted one
          Yet my truth's demise only bred goodbyes
               Lucid of the tales I'd spun

I wished for you a future
     Ripe with jubilance and mirth
          Still I left recanted and took for granted
               The measure of its worth

          Tell the night to hold me
          I no longer swim your eyes
          Instead I stare into vacant air
          And count the countless why's

          Tell the night to hold me
          'Til Apollo's old and gray
          For until the stars are not mine, but OURS
          I'll forget about you ... every day.

I desired for you a partner
     Who would stand beside you, true
          Though that came to be, that man wasn't ME
               And it broke my heart in two

I promised you'd be happy
     And in ways, that's come to be
          Wed a man who's good - loves you as he should
               I just wish it had been me

          Tell the night to hold me
          It no longer heeds my will
          As I feared the most, I've become a ghost
          And I haven't tears to spill

          Tell the night to hold me
          For I've no more left to say
          Please remand what's just as I turn to dust
          And forget about you ...

Every day ...

          'Til I'm swept with wind, away.




~ 1st Place ~  in the "Piece De Resistance" Poetry Contest, The Name Forsakes Me, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 1st Place ~  in the "Lost Love 2017 Poetry Contest", John Hamilton, Sponsor.



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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No such thing as forever

We all arrive alone naked and vulnerable,
crying our eyes out, not knowing -
this is the first day of the rest of our life.
I guess the saddest thing in life is we have to grow up.

As children we live in a bubble,
gazing at lost stars - wondering which one is ours.
Not realising the impact of our childhood,
until we are adults and it is too late.

We jump in puddles, laughing at splashing sounds,
some even learn to place their coats over them.
Some swim within shark infested waters,
but only a few learn how to build bridges over them.

I have embraced the power of silence,
but some have succumb to it.
I guess it is all about the quality of it,
especially for those who struggle to listen. 

There has been many a rose that has bloomed,
but every single one crumbled into dust.
Even the one whose thorns pierced lacerations
through hearts of stone - yet the heart healed.

Many birds arrived echoing sweet symphonies,
yet there have been those that flew away in silence.
Especially the silent nightingale who sat in solitude,
whose lyrics my heart still yearns to feel.

I've seen many a ship arrive at my shore,
but each one unloaded and sailed away.
It was me who removed their anchor
and smiled as they sailed into the distance.

As tumours poison our existence  - I ponder;
will the human race survive earth's demise?
When death arrives we all leave alone empty handed,
not knowing that was the last day of our life.

I recall Freddie Mercury's famous lyrics... 
Who wants to live forever....   Anyway.

Silent One
Simple Musings
19 June 2018


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2018


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In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope

In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
           (The Solemn Prayer)

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017

Syllables Per Line: 
12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225

Note-  I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017


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All I Am

Long slender tendril of mist in the morning snakes slowly across the cool water, wandering, endlessly, searching, moving slowly, seemingly without purpose, without direction, without destination. It fades like a ghost into the shadows, only to reappear when the filtered light winks anew and its silver coat of crystalline breath shimmers in its tears. It reflects the light of the lonely world through which it passes, like a wraith embarking on its unknowable quest, aimlessly meandering, the dark water, its home. Only briefly does he touch the occasional soul he encounters leaving cool moist kisses on smooth tender cheeks searching for the warmth he knows he will never have, the closeness he can never share. He remembers. Yes, each caress, each kindness. The gentle whisper of the trees as they speak among themselves, but they don't see him. They don't feel him as he slowly slips past. He watches as the fish jump to catch their morning meal of damsel flies, oblivious to his presence. He leaves a part of himself on each thing that he touches, each blade of grass, every grain of sand, the sweet scented petals that spring forth from the buds of the morning glory, the lovers embracing on the shore. How he envies each. Eagerly, openly he gives, asking nothing in return. Everything he has he gives, everything he is without expectation he gives, yet, no one sees him. But a moment of mystery, he soon becomes the fog that clouds the vision, nothing more than a haze to look beyond. No one shares, no one to share. Always alone. The sun peeks expectantly over the bleeding horizon sharing hints of the promise of a new dawn. He awaits. The light brightens as the shadows recede hiding like a child hides shyly behind his mother. Still he waits. The shining smile of the sun beckons him as he feels the hint of its warm rays, filling him. Impatiently he reaches up into its waiting arms. How he wishes to feel its caress. How he wishes to hold it against him, to feel its radiant glow. He twirls and spins like a whirlwind flying higher and higher until the sun's smile begins to wane. He knows he can never reach it. Looking down again he sees himself fading, the warmth he seeks the harbinger of his inevitable demise. Such longing he has. One last sad smile he offers, a radiance that encompasses him. Disappearing like his hope and desire he watches life as it awakens before him.
02/10/17


Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2017


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Ungrateful child

I woke up that day with tears in my eyes,
after I heard about your father's demise.
Guess you've never understood,
the point of being his blood.

I remember when your mother left,
how he was totally bereft.
Ran off with the man next door,
not once did he call her a whore.
Not once did your mother call,
too busy having a ball.
Forgot about her only child,
to live a life fun and wild.

He knew he had to be strong,
so the world would do you no wrong.
Every night he held you tight,
his eyes your guiding light.
Every time you would cry,
he would kiss those tears dry.
Worked three jobs so you had the best,
not once did he fail in your request.
He suppressed all his sorrows deep inside,
he was broken but never did he subside.

Single he remained for the rest of his life,
dedicated to you, so you would not face strife.
Yet you too, decided to walk away,
tell me what led you astray?
You called him a religious bore,
when you ran out of that door.
He had your best interests at heart,
but you belittled him for not being smart.

Then you wonder why he finally broke,
all that stress gave him a deadly stroke.
Now you stand there with your unfaithful mother,
with someone who is young enough to be your brother.
Crocodile tears stream from your artificial face,
as his coffin is lowered into his final resting place.
How ironic it has started to pour with rain,
maybe it's God washing away all of his pain.

Don't come running to me for sympathy,
I have no time for those with no dignity.
All his sacrifices now you seem to realise,
but he can't hear you, it's too late to apologise.
Because of you he lived a life heartbroken,
forever you will regret those words unspoken.

P.S
If you think his inheritance will help your austerity,
he wasn't that stupid, he left it all to charity!

The Silent One
16 February 2018

Based on a true story






Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2018


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And Sweet Is Her Demise

In primrose twilight, summer is still near. She whispers in my ear; I hear her in the one lone owl that hoots to only me. I wake to find her shining through the clouds - though breathing not so warmly on my cheek. I glimpse her waning smile as in a field I dance to soundless music in her sun. My mind goes wandering, and in the breeze I hear her sigh, for she is lingering within the scent of asters that I pluck. I’m hanging on to that one glint I see of her before me in gold glitter dusk. But in the cries of geese across the sky, she calls goodbye, and sweet is her demise. Dec. 2, 2016 Now used for the Blank Verse Poetry Contest of Janice Canerdy


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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The Goddess Of Blessed Redemption

The Goddess Of Blessed Redemption

She gave me a foundation of love's pleasures
complete with wondrous bountiful measures
she a gentle goddess of golden hues,
swept this heart away, vanquished all its blues.
From a verdant forest spring she arrived
relieving me of life sadly contrived.
None other could love and give any more,
she a goddess sent from paradise shore.

When asked why she came to me to now bless
no words came, my sins too sad to confess.
Yet her Light and Grace healed this broken soul
for this world had taken its heavy toll.
Of Asclepius* blood, healing her art,
body, soul and mind, first target the heart,
faithful daughter, resplendent her warm glow
sent to heal and allow this soul to grow.

She freed my body from its scars and burns
from ghosts of past buried in hidden urns,
the mind confused by treachery and lies
and the soul ready to face its demise.
Her enchanted charm revived my delight
to view the world in a generous light,
for the mind to stand firm, no longer wilt,
with redemption free the burden of guilt.

Once a broken man, forsaken lost soul,
I now stand stoutly with a heart that’s whole.
With Apollo’s blood vibrant are my veins,
by lease of life, released from morbid chains.
Verve restored by Aceso’s healing might
with radiance to end my sorry plight.
Healed with love in atonement of past crimes
with kindness I share life’s eternal chimes.

Collaboration by Robert J. Lindley and Teppo Gren
7-05-2018

(1.) Asclepius, Latin: Aesculapius) was a hero and god of medicine in ancient Greek religion and mythology. Asclepius represents the healing aspect of the medical arts; his daughters are Hygieia ("Hygiene", the goddess/personification of health, cleanliness, and sanitation), Iaso (the goddess of recuperation from illness), Aceso (the goddess of the healing process), Aglæa/Ægle (the goddess of the glow of good health), and Panacea (the goddess of universal remedy). He was associated with the Roman/Etruscan god Vediovis and the Egyptian Imhotep.[1] He was one of Apollo's sons, sharing with Apollo the epithet Paean ("the Healer"). The rod of Asclepius, a snake-entwined staff, remains a symbol of medicine today. Those physicians and attendants who served this god were known as the Therapeutae of Asclepius.
(2.) Aceso’s , (  Aceso (the goddess of the healing process )
(3.)Apollo- Greek Mythology  - 
Apollo was one of the most versatile of the Greek gods. His domains extended from poetry and music, to light and truth, and archery.
His mother was the Titan Leto, whose tryst with Zeus angered Hera. The Queen of the Gods tormented Leto, sending the monster Python to chase her across the whole world so she could find no safe space to bear her children. However, Leto found safe haven on the isle of Delos and gave birth to Artemis and then Apollo. 




Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2018


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Mimes at My Funeral

When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed

So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function

No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent

When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’

And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”

Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel

Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon

All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”

There are people who seem to take life way too seriously 
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy

Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011


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The Magic Hourglass

April's come and gone. Now May is here; the grains in the hourglass have already started sifting down. Dew is on the roses. Days of linking daisies will soon begin. Transparent skies of night will show constellations when the fire-breathing dragon comes to freckle school-sprung children, who baring skin, will run with glee through sprinklers. Soon enough the kids will be tumbling in leaves fallen from the trees of their back yards, and then following bright autumn's demise, the filtering of seasons' sand quickens till every grain has drifted like snow, burying another year. May is on her way; again the hourglass, like magic, is turned over. For the Show, Don't Tell Poetry contest of Thomas Martin


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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A Crown of Thorns

1
Insanity has its own wellspring and demise.
There is no better place to hide than between coils
of convoluted grey-white matter which can't recoil.
Mind has no leering lips to scorn or show surprise 
as ungoverned, the ancient demon-dancers rise.
The traitorous bits, which cut with Brutus’ red fang,
have no regard for the womb from which they sprang.
They seek dominion; they care not for your cries.
Crazed, their freedom paid for on the rack, how they sang
of anything, of windigos’, and warriors winged 
of fresh flesh beneath a gibbous moon's harangue, 
where those in sanity beneath their blankets cringed.
Night terrors sweat the sheets of the weak, as fear sprang,
a ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged.
2
A ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged
cloaked in mirrored, morose, magic; the mind a foil,
the heart, the soul, the sunny days, caste down, embroiled; 
destined to languish convulsed in the depth of coil.
Brightness, so dimmed, is lost within a rancid soil,
left to meet horned demons all but unarmed, alone, 
no company except the mirrored self-entombed,
no bliss state, no ripening sweetness to uncoil
a compost heap of bitter memories, atone ...
atone, little mother, well-used wife, wander now,
seeking ever seeking, yet finding no one home,
insanity wakened, waits, patiently endows ... 
empty days and nights, the infrequent sound of om,
cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused.
3
Cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused,
the teeth of dogged night rise-up, they breed turmoil.
Deep within the sleeping mind of men, sorrows roil.
Abandonment, disloyalty, hatred espoused,
all shriek to the traitor, the night arouses. 
Niggardly night, loath to lose ground within the dome
of blanched white, gray matter, within this skull of bone,
delights in the sorrowful detail night houses.
Insanity licks raw the salted wound entombed, owned.
"What could we be?" the ego cries to he or she.
"What would we be?" the windigo screams but, “alone.”
On, on, they chatter in the carapace, they breed, 
spreading dark matter, for they've no chaperone,
no friend to stay the brutal cousins, so mislead. 

4
No friend to stay the brutal cousins so mislead,
so in darkness, fear and hatred spread on fertile soil.
Yet, self-hatred shields its sharpened claws, as day uncoils
filling the breach with bright creations, dark concedes, 
and dims the room while manic laughter recedes.
A sunrise bows through prism-glass and colors swell
a lighter laughter comes, newborn to dwell.
Hands that once drew only blood, now tune bent reeds                        
of green, blades of springtime grass within the dell;
where larks sing and long lost lovers dare to reunite, 
no mention made of darkness or the depth of hell,
for sanity has cast a lighter stage this night.                       
Daybreak suspends the demon-dance upon the fell,
now, fairies prance in pastures high, and verse delights.
5 
Now, fairies prance in meadows high, and verse delights
her fancy takes a softer turn at his behest,
with buttercups, in a Fairy Ring, they coalesce,
and shine the golden glow beneath a chin of white.
With the talent of a troubadour, love does strum
upon desire's strings the raging beast is culled
as coy love songs and  sweet lullabies emerge from
the hidden depths of mind where sanity is mulled.
With the talent of a troubadour love does strum
upon strings of desire the fearful beasts are culled 
as coy love songs and sweet lullabies emerge from
the stygian depth where her frail sanity is mulled.
How long will harmony dance to love's blissful hum
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
6 
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
A scent of jasmine fills the air with swarming gnats.
Her covered ears belay the sound of feral cats
yet, huddled in his sheltering arms, her pain is dulled.
Dulled, but not waylaid, raging, she becomes unglued
She starts to rock, to whimper, and then, cry out- loud
begging for the dev'lish tide to leave, as he vowed,
renting strands of flaxen hair from her small skull.
Torn, he watches as she fades within a shroud,
a witless waif, bedeviled by the harvest moon.
He had to leave; he could not stay beneath this cloud
ever waiting for this, her omnipresent doom.
His love had its limits and yet, he was not proud,
Oh, he could not stay and watch her be consumed.

7

Oh no, he could not stay and watch her be consumed,
to have his pleasant memories of ardor's bloom
be marred by images of her so poorly groomed. 
No, never would he stay to see her be consumed.
One morn he left, his sum was not what she'd presumed. 
And, she sat in the rocker by the door unfazed,
her bowed lips o'er cast and her eyes o'er glazed, 
alive, but not, her nascent sanity entombed.
Death had come, death of the mind, his metal now assayed
he ran from old memories, as each thought enticed.
Their first tryst 'neath jasmine vines vanished in a haze.
Was love's reward, a sweet repast, mania's disguise?
Would true love have held the course where sanity betrayed,
insanity has its own wellspring, and demise.

First Published Five Poetry Magazine 2014




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015


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Falling leaves, beautiful demise

Leaves talking, beautiful demise

If a leaf could talk, it would say, please, take your time
life is acted out in stages, every song has it's rhyme
When a leaf dies, its dynamic impressions in its flight
a stunning display of artistry, dazzling to the sight

Green turns to crimson, flaming tangerine and gold
a leaf's transforming demise is a beauty to behold
As sap runs dry, youthful vitality turns evanescent
the beauty of a leaf's demise is resplendent iridescence

A leaf's downfall, granted, is a casualty of the season
it's journey into oblivion, is transfixing beyond reason
When a leaf, takes its leave, exits gracefully the scene
We're left breathless with the vision, an event to be seen



September17,2016




Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016


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Let love create rainbows in your speech

 
Hey you Don't let hate dominate. Let love sate - animate With the pain in your heart. Set it free from the start. Let it go, let it part. An ugly form of art. That don't make you look too smart.
In the realms of sacred humanity Hate is regarded as insanity Hypocritical cries are your disguise. Judgemental eyes lead to your demise. There's no prize for those who like to despise. When sweet little lies become your allies in sinful ties, your ego will baptise. To love is wise, let it be your franchise. Love thy neighbour that's what holy books teach. But when they sin they turn the other cheek. Surely they should practice what they preach? Let love create rainbows in their speech. I understand the eyes can go blind when anger starts to confuse the mind Remember Socrates's test; three filters to consider are best. Heavenly guides from high above, encourage to plant seeds of love. Sow, sow, sow, you can't go wrong. Just like they sing in that song: "Every woman every man Join the caravan of love (Stand up) stand up Stand up Everybody take a stand Join the caravan of love (Stand up) stand up Stand up I'm your brother I'm your brother don't you know She's my sister She's my sister don't you know We'll be living in a world of peace And the day when everyone is free We'll bring the young and the old Won't you let your love flow, from your heart." 12 November 2017 Lyrics are from Housemartin's song: caravan of love A timely reminder Once upon a time an old man spread rumors that his neighbor was a thief. As a result, the young man was arrested. Days later the young man was proven innocent. After being released he sued the old man for wrongly accusing him. In court the old man told the Judge : They were just comments, didn't harm anyone.. The judge, before passing sentence on the case, told the old man : Write all the things you said about him on a piece of paper. Cut them up and on the way home, throw the pieces of paper out. Tomorrow, come back to hear the sentence. The next day, the judge told the old man : Before receiving the sentence, you will have to go out and gather all the pieces of paper that you threw out yesterday. The old man said : I can't do that ! The wind spread them and I won't know where to find them. The judge then replied : The same way, simple comments may destroy the honor of a man to such an extent that one is not able to fix it. "If you can't speak well of someone, rather don't say anything. " Let's all be masters of our mouths, so that we won't be slaves of our words." “Gossips are worse than thieves because they steal another person’s dignity, honour, reputation and credibility which are impossible to restore. So remember this: when your feet slip, you can always recover your balance but when your tongue slips, you can never recover your words!” Author unkown


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Just another day without you

An abundance of fragrant florets constant reminder of regrets Although they consume the misty air they seem stale, because you're not there Your absence has left a hollow void Ghosts haunt turning the mind paranoid. Just another day without you Oh my love if only you knew How the guitar still strums your song One more day alone seems so wrong The hands of time are no friends of mine Growing old, should have been our shrine In your world full of confusion Life can be full of delusion My love for you still remains supreme Our reunion is my last dream Just another day without you Oh my love if only you knew how the guitar still strums your song One more day alone seems so wrong The heart craves to hear your sweet voice but your departure has left no choice Now only silence is what I hear Life has no sound without you near. Only the room vibrating with cries Won't you save me from this demise Come before this dancer's heart dies Bless me with one last sight of your eyes Just another day without you Oh my love if only you knew how the guitar still strums your song One more day alone seems so wrong Still that guy who made your heart go 'wow' Don't say its that final curtain bow Senorita don't forget our vow My beloved come back to me now Just another day without you Oh my love if only you knew how the guitar still strums your song One more day alone seems so wrong The Silent One Simple Musing 3 November 2017


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Dear Men

Dear men,
Explain to me why I stand alone. 
Women are quick to uplift their father, sons, and brothers
Quick to maintain the home,
But when she needs support,
A woman stands alone
Explain to me why a woman has to stay in her “place”
Is there no room for a woman who is more than a pretty face?
Is there no room for a woman who can stimulate you intellectually
Or is it a woman’s only duty to please you sexually?
Explain to me why beating a woman gives you power
It gives you strength
Is masculinity so fragile
That you can’t maintain?
Without getting pleasure from pain
Explain to me why your brother goes scott free
When he takes advantage of a woman
While she is left to be ridiculed, blamed
As society throws dirt on her name
And she falls victim to her own demise.
I despise
The men who are so oblivious to their own privilege
That they think patriarchy is normal
Excuse my language 
As I speak a bit informal 
For you to understand
That you cannot catcall me as I walk down the street
It’s disgusting and demeaning
No I am not obligated to give you my number
Just because you ask and think you are getting a pass at me
No I don’t need you to hold the door open or carry my groceries
I am a strong, independent woman and your belief that I am weak
Is insulting
No I do not have to give you my body just because you bought me a drink
My body belongs to me
No matter what you tell yourself or think
Dear men,
You can no longer say that you are ignorant to my issues or my demands
Because I have clearly listed it for you to see.
Now only a real man
Will know, that women deserve equity












Copyright © Kapree Tripp | Year Posted 2017


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The Demise of a Newborn Dragonfly

Its delicate wings no longer wet, it stretched well,
And flew up high holding onlookers in its spell.
Round and around it danced over the eerie pond
All covered with water lilies but not beyond.

Elation, euphoria, joy and disbelief,
Emotions felt as it landed on fragrant leaf.
Up again, its gossamer wings attaining strength,
As once again it fluttered across the pond's length.

Hungry it spied a tasty bug and gorged its feed,
Then instinct urged it to find its first mate to breed.
The feat accomplished, it resumed its fullest flight
Knowing full well it needed rest before twilight.

Survival of the fittest it had never learned.
Bird ate it up, that natural death it had earned.

4 September 2018

POTW 09/09/2018


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2018


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The Goddess Of Blessed Redemption

The Goddess Of Blessed Redemption

She gave me a foundation of love's pleasures
complete with wondrous bountiful measures
she a gentle goddess of golden hues,
swept this heart away, vanquished all its blues.
From a verdant forest spring she arrived
relieving me of life sadly contrived.
None other could love and give any more,
she a goddess sent from paradise shore.

When asked why she came to me to now bless
no words came, my sins too sad to confess.
Yet her Light and Grace healed this broken soul
for this world had taken its heavy toll.
Of Asclepius* blood, healing her art,
body, soul and mind, first target the heart,
faithful daughter, resplendent her warm glow
sent to heal and allow this soul to grow.

She freed my body from its scars and burns
from ghosts of past buried in hidden urns,
the mind confused by treachery and lies
and the soul ready to face its demise.
Her enchanted charm revived my delight
to view the world in a generous light,
for the mind to stand firm, no longer wilt,
with redemption free the burden of guilt.

Once a broken man, forsaken lost soul,
I now stand stoutly with a heart that’s whole.
With Apollo’s blood vibrant are my veins,
by lease of life, released from morbid chains.
Verve restored by Aceso’s healing might
with radiance to end my sorry plight.
Healed with love in atonement of past crimes
with kindness I share life’s eternal chimes.

Collaboration by Robert J. Lindley and Teppo Gren
7-05-2018

(1.) Asclepius*, see note above..
(2.) Aceso’s , (  Aceso (the goddess of the healing process )
(3.)Apollo- Greek Mythology  - 
Apollo was one of the most versatile of the Greek gods. His domains extended from poetry and music, to light and truth, and archery.
His mother was the Titan Leto, whose tryst with Zeus angered Hera. The Queen of the Gods tormented Leto, sending the monster Python to chase her across the whole world so she could find no safe space to bear her children. However, Leto found safe haven on the isle of Delos and gave birth to Artemis and then Apollo. 

*****
Note- With deep gratitude I present this collaboration written with my good friend Teppo Gren. A wonderful friend and truly amazing poet. A sonnet master that awes me with every poem he posts..






Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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At Heaven's Gate - Parts 1 and 2

PART 1:          THE MEETING

Alone one night neath lantern light, I trudged a weary mile.
Forlorn, I went with shoulders bent (the storms around me howled)
until I met a Silhouette behind a sultry smile – 
She gazed with eyes that mesmerize (Her body caped and cowled)
and stayed my way with question fey, ‘Why don’t you while awhile?’

Though timorous (with slow address and gestures pantomimed)
Her voice was gracing echoes chasing waves in evening’s tide.
The churchyard groaned, an organ moaned, the bells of midnight chimed
while wanton winds awoke and dinned, and mistrals multiplied.
The Persian moon, like stray balloon, arose and blithely climbed.

The Silhouette (a pale brunette) arched eyebrows meant to please,
and down the lanes, on windowpanes, the shadows danced and sighed.
A meadowlark within the dark, somewhere behind the breeze,
ennobled Her with wisps of myrrh while deigning to confide
to nightingales veiled whispered tales of human vanities.

She doffed her cloak before She spoke with sighs of sorrow sung
(like mandolins, as night begins, when mourning day’s demise)
and spun Her tale of grim travail and tears She'd shed when young.
As jagged volts of thunderbolts lit up the dismal skies, 
a velvet fog embraced a bog in coils of curling tongues.

Through summer vales and winter gales Her secret thoughts were voiced.
Midst storms so cruel (neath lightning’s jewel that glistered on the ridge)
She reminisced, She touched... we kissed... Her lips were wet and moist...
A lighthouse dimmed, while moonbeams skimmed across a distant bridge
to avenues where residues of shallow shades rejoiced.

PART 2:                        HER TRAGIC TALE

“Midst sweet perfume of youthful bloom, the lonely spirit braves
and often cries and sometimes dies in quest of her amour.”

While starry-eyed, a ship I spied, a’ sail upon the waves –
the galleon docked, the gannets flocked, the Captain swept ashore
where, debonair with gypsy flair, he led his salty knaves.

In passing by, he caught my eye - I tried to hide a blush,
but ambiance of innocence left fervour’s flames revealed.
His gaze (defined by eyes that shined) beheld my cheek a’ flush.
I bowed my head while caution fled, I felt my fate was sealed
- a bird in spring with fledgling wing - he’d snared a  falling thrush.

He said ‘Hello’ - I answered ‘No’ and yet before he’d gone
said I, ‘I’ll wait at Heaven’s Gate not far beyond the Pale’.
At dusk he came neath moon aflame, and left before the dawn
just humming tunes between the dunes that lined the sandy trail
beside a pond where morning yawned, where swam an ebon swan.

We met again, and once again, and once again, again
entangled in a love called sin, in whirls of make-believe.
While in my arms, with voice that charms, said he ‘I must explain -
the tide awaits in distant straits and I must take my leave’.
Then tempests stormed as passions swarmed through ardor’s hurricane.

‘Forsake your home and we may roam’ he smiled as if to tease
and still naive, said I ‘I’ll leave, in silver buckled shoes’.
He took the helm in search of realms, and quickly quit the quays -
with tearful eyes, I bade goodbyes to fare-thee-well adieus
and sailed above a wave of love across the seven seas.

We swept one morn around Cape Thorne while bound for Bullion Bay.
With naught to reck, I strolled on deck, a baby at my breast,
while flurries blew and seagulls flew within the ocean’s spray.
Our ship soon moored, we went ashore and off to Fortune’s Quest -
with gold doubloons which shone like moons, he gambled through the day.

‘The deuce is wild’ he thinly smiled; another card was drawn -
he’d staked and raised with eyes half glazed, was dealt a dismal three.
With betting tight throughout the night, the final ace long gone,
meant all was lost, at what a cost; alas, the prize was me.
To my dismay he slunk away and left me doomed at dawn.

A buccaneer with ring in ear sneered ‘now, my dear, you’re mine’.
He held my wrists to thwart my fists and then... my honor stained.
On sullied swash, the sky awash with bitter tears of brine,
I broke his clutch with nothing much of me that still remained:
a residue when he was through, left clinging to a vine.

In morning dew, the good folk knew, and spurned me in my plight.
The preacher man pronounced a ban and wouldn’t condescend,
ignored my pleas on bended knees and prayers by candlelight.
While cast aside, my baby died... my world was at an end.
Until this day, I’ve made my way beneath the shades of night.

Continued in Part 3


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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Your Seductress Speaks

You don’t know this woman
You haven’t got a clue
This paragon of beauty
Is a mystery to you

You think that I’m so gentle
You think that I am tame
That’s just to get you going
And trap you in my game

You think that I’m so giving
You think that I am sweet
But I’ve come to devour
And you’re my tasty treat

You are a man of steel now
But you’ll melt under my gaze
You'll toss and turn in torment
Eyes blurred in love sick daze

You think you can withstand me
I laugh at your demise
Your body burns like kindling
You're scorched by smoldering eyes

My hands are fierce and vicious
I tear to reach the prize
Then sear your flesh at will
Press in to sturdy thighs

My lips, they ravish your lips
My mouth burns down your neck
My tongue brands all your body
Leaves you a melting wreck

You cry out in your moment
You clutch my hair, you sigh
No ease in the momentum
Till flaring flames run dry

You pant in sheer delirium
I speak the words you need
I coax you to the heights now
My wanton passion freed

The world explodes around us
Inside is molten fire
I’ve rocked you to the heavens
But I’ve sated MY desire

And when the blaze is over
I lick your sweat dewed face
I smile the smile of triumph
And leave without a trace

PRACTICE FOR SEDUCTION CONTEST! ;)


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


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Dear Humanity:

Dear Humanity:

You know I love you, right?
Stop calling me Mother Nature!
I hate that!
Genderless am I…
Oh, yeah, I get the ‘bring life forth’ bit,
creator of new life, pregnant with your desire
…yada, yada, yada,
my womb is your hope,
my anger your demise.
You have dominion over me?
Get over yourself!
Not the life-force, I wobble,
buoy in a black sea,
world in flux.
Some of your tribes cajole me
with Songs of the Good Earth,
their rhythms heal my rivers and plains,
my blue veins, renewing rains;
good vibrations make mountains grow.
Others try to dominate me,
defile, desecrate and destroy me.
Written in the Book they say,
patriarchal sons of kings.
Climate change deniers my enemies.
Poor, dear, naïve humanity,
my icecaps are melting, oceans swell,
water will consume the land.
My extremes test your resolve.
I can live without you,
is the opposite true?
Homeostasis, my cycles of life,
the seasons my command.
Are you so balanced?
Don’t fight against gravity,
there is no escape.
Eagles soar and lions roar,
your footprints on the shore,
all these shall pass away.
So if you seek immortality
then keep your home sacred.
Love all of me,
every rock is my child,
every grain of sand a seed,
everything you do to these,
you do to me.
I am Gaia. I am home.

Prayer for the Summer Solstice 2017


Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2017


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The Phantom Horse

A phantom horse came galloping 
beneath a silver moon
across a field of recent war 
where corpses’ bones lay strewn.

With thunder in his hoof beats,
again and then again,
he raced along a river which,
like blood, ran through that plain.

Though frightful he appeared to be
on land that reeked demise,
a sole intent gleamed strongly
in his sad and ghostly eyes.

Then finally, as dawn began
to paint the broad stretch red,
the unrelenting stallion stopped
and seemed to bow his head.

He briefly knelt, then stood upright
and bore away, with speed,
the spirit of the knight for whom
he’d been a trusty steed!


For Skat's Premiere Contest number 9 Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014


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Life's Fading Light-Part 2-Heroic Crown of Sonnets

Alone

For in the end it's just one soul that's passed.
Alone I'll lie in sod of greenest grass
to answer for the sins that I've amassed
at gates of gold I'll see if I may pass.
In to this world I entered all alone
in cold and dark and dank so old I grow,
on thoughts of younger days I ***** and moan
with little hope of changing what I know.
But, now as time reflects upon my skin,
the lines of life grow deep upon my face.
I feel the fear of darkness closing in
and of my soul it leaves but little trace.

     So lay my corpse upon this bier stone cold.
          The end of life so often is foretold.

Faith

The end of life so often is foretold
from storms of pained emotions we retreat.
When colors fade to black as we grow old
we search for gold from rainbows we can cheat.
Through lonely thoughts of our demise we trod,
yet try, we still, to save our lives from dust
With souls we've fore to sold we offer God
if but in his creation he would trust.
In promise lost we bide our time, we cope,
for what remains beyond our short lived lives.
The heaven of our father's faith's our hope,
inside of us is where this hope yet thrives.

     Is our eternal faith enough to know,
          when cold the winds of fate speak soft and low?

Moments

When cold the winds of fate speak soft and low
I hear its voice sing smooth in morning dew
and all of life on wings aloft will go
and fly on breeze of gentle pastel hue.
So sweet the taste of life will linger on
with rainbow flavors left upon the tongue,
like cream filled candy, but too soon it's gone
dissolved like so much piles of beetles' dung,
I know that life is precious as fine gems
reflecting each new moment that we live
with flowers' petals sweet upon their stems
our time in life is all we have to give.

     As years in life pass slow like buds in cold
          in warmth and light the blooms of time unfold.

Lies

In warmth and light the blooms of time unfold
to search through lost emotions is our goal.
In hope that we shall keep from growing old
we capture fading thoughts to keep us whole,
but when the final sunset has gone dark
the memories we cherished are all lost
and only ghostly photos leave the mark
of lives that pass like melting winter frost.
I can not bear the thought of you alone
when life has passed for me and I am gone.
What good of all the sweetness you have known
if lonely night awakes to lonely dawn.

     Forever lies I've promised, you will see,
          as petals fall, my life will cease to be.

Doubts

As petals fall my life will cease to be,
yet time goes on without a moment lost
and still the winds of fate persist and blow
without remark or care or pennies cost.
What worth am I but in your care and love
or have I lived my life in selfish need.
I've tried so hard, for you, to rise above
but in your eyes do you just see my greed.
For am I who you wanted me to be,
the perfect man to share my life with you,
or did you wish for me to just be me
and give you love and promise to be true?

     When end is near I know in you I'll dwell
          in whispered songs of love my heart will quell.

Life

In whispered songs of love my heart will quell
so soft it beats when broken scars are healed
yet pain of loss for you I can't dispel
when left to dream of all that you've revealed.
The secret  words of love that you have told
in moments sweet and pleasured touch exposed
to me are bits of life for me to hold
when fantasies of you have been reposed.
Now laid to rest inside my very soul,
I've loved you strong and deep for oh so long
for in my life you've played a leading roll.
Without you dear this life would be but wrong.

     Though many words as yet I wish to tell
          with tender tears to you, I say farewell.

Death

With tender tears to you, I say farewell,
my sweet, my life, my love, my need, my soul.
From you the one for whom my heart once fell,
this world of pain will now exact its toll
Too soon my corpse in death will lay stone cold
and tears from you will be my sole repose.
The troubadour whose words sing songs so bold,
alas, is left struck mute in death's last throes.
Will loves last flower fade without perfume,
to die unsmelled with human heart's adieu
its fragrant scent to linger in my tomb
or heaven sent, will stay and comfort you?

     At end of life my love I hope you'll know,
          when orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow.

Life's Fading Light

When orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow,
as time, with heavy brow, is nature planned,
too soon the beating heart begins to slow
when passion's ember burns the gentle hand.
With flames of love that flicker old and grey,
but moments gone, as youth filled questions asked,
the feelings lost to seasons never stay
for in the end it's just one soul that's passed.
The end of life so often is foretold
when cold the winds of fate speak soft to me.
In warmth and light the blooms of time unfold,
as petals fall, my life will cease to be.

     In whispered songs of love my heart will quell,
          with tender tears, to you, I say     ...farewell.


04/19/16



Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016


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Inebriant melodies

Daylight is greeted with the horrific stench of food chunks 
swimming in stomach acid, dribbling onto bed sheets.
Accompanied with the embarrassment of
brown syrup puddle stains.

Head is pounding 
like a hammer - hammering nails into the skull. 
Cumbersome movements drag drowsy flesh to the mirror,
as bloodshot eyes with yellow hue, glare in reflection.
Exhausted hands rub dense stubble,
as heavy eye lids struggle to stay open.

A cocktail of coffee and a cold shower
comfort this somber slumber.
Mouthwash and mints help disguise
the fragrance of yesterday's session with Bourbon.

Continuous sips of water, attempt to quench sultry thirst,
but the blandness cannot douse untamed flames.
Especially as days consist of sitting
surrounded by monotonous blank walls,
and staring at cracks on a vase -
silently watching wilted flowers crumble.

Struggling to defeat temptation from fermented demons,
summoned by cravings for that burning sensation,
the tongue cries for mercy.
Infiltrates the mind luring it to
lust for sour liquid passion 
that infuses the bloodstreams.

Hands trembling, parched lips quivering -
only golden nectar can ease the pain. 
No need for a glass, as bottle is devoured,
with momentary pauses of 'aaahhhhh.'

So begins the daily quest,
to suffocate every sorrow.
To feel numb upon request,
with no care for tomorrow.

Favouring fantasy over reality,
each drop kills the pain.
The bitter sweet taste is a lethal injection,
but the numbness helps to feel perfection.

In a place where nobody notices -
alcoholic symphonies lead to intoxicated sympathy.
To deal with being alone, to forget the world,
to forget the name.

Envious eyes can be a crime, 
leading to jealous tendencies.
Hiding secrets can lead to becoming a victim 
to a self inflicted demise.

An empty bottle leads to remorse.
Bitter sweet tears roll with shameful giggles.
Now the cracked vase looks perfect with flowers blooming.
Inebriant melodies mock the mind.
Attempting to dance, legs stumble and crash to the ground.

Laying there on the floor - laughing.
Then crying hysterically.
The heart has no desire to be sober,
only to remain intoxicated until death.

The Silent One
20 October 2017




Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Visitor - A collaboration with July Morning

POTW 28 January 2018

Prologue:
A beautiful extra-terrestrial female researcher is sent down to a remote island to observe earth and beam her findings back to her planet. She’s strictly forbidden to make any human contact. She detests everything about earth.

A research scientist, in a small boat fitted out with equipment is dispatched to investigate monitored, unusual signal activity emanating from this island.

Alas, a storm causes his boat to be shattered on rocks with loss of all equipment. His life is ebbing away as he is washed ashore.

And so the saga begins…  
~~~~~~~~~~~
In a palette of shimmering shades I dreamed Of moons circling moons within a celestial frame And scintillating stars that flickered through the day As melodious echoes sweetly called my name My thoughts of home are just nostalgic images that tarry Oh Earthling how I detest your Earth and its sustenance Through parted shrubs with bated breath your progress I observe To beings of my planet so dissimilar your semblance Undertaking this mission I realized a challenge it would be In truth your species to my world kindles an obsessive passion To secretly observe - make no association – my strict instruction Till finding you fading fast evoked these feelings of compassion Our paths were linked when I discovered you washed ashore Have you not wondered how you survived your sunken craft? Sensations of when our lips first touched cavort through my mind Breathing my life into you else it slipped forever aft Your countenance paler than before - will you arise today? Oh beating heart - my bond to you grows stronger by the days Natheless your harsh world would to me be a misplaced acceptance Despite my ‘ought’ to transmit a recall cue forestalls and strays
<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
Strange visions overwhelmed me in deepest slumber Could this be heaven? Yet all is familiar, I've seen this before Blue sky o'er head, chimerical cumulus clouds without number Sandy beach below, the sound of gentle waves crashing, crashing My head, my head! Was I but for a moment dead? Throbbing, aching as though caught in some cosmic vise Real or unreal? Fantasy or truth? What ethereal dreams bled Into my brain in my hour of demise? And yet... Eyes of lemon-jade staring into my own. Translucent skin of topaz blue Against my battered and naked torso, tenderly caressing me, stroking my hair A face, a face not like my own, her teardrops as the morning dew Yet the vision keeps phasing, like daylight into dusk and then back again Soft lips of hyacinth pressing gently against my own, The sweet taste of honey as a healing zephyr fills my lungs In and out - in and out - flesh of my flesh bone of my bone O saviour, soul mate from the stars, from whence have thou come... Wait! A stirring in amongst the trees - footfall sounds I can't dismiss Am I being watched? - Who's there? I rise to my feet, unsteadily And turn to face my benefactor - Or is he/she/it my nemesis? Am I standing in a holy place, or my own private purgatory? Head spinning, body feeling heavy – a sudden need to rest, to sleep Darkness encroaches like malevolent shadows greedy to overtake Crescent moon appears in southern sky - my soul to keep, my soul to keep As dim fades to black a face suddenly hovers, a tender kiss upon my cheek My Celestial Angel returns …
We hope you enjoyed this episode. The story continues in 'Visitor Part 2'… Acknowledgement: Many thanks to you July Morning. It was a great pleasure putting this arrangement together with a talented poet such as yourself. It’s strange how quite by coincidence we were thinking along the same theme and how our thoughts came together so easily to produce this story. I shouldn’t be amazed at the speed with which you scripted your verses. I’m looking forward to working with you on the next episode. Maria POTW 28 January 2018
A Maria Williams and July Morning collaboration 22nd January 2018


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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A Passing Shadow

Behind our house, below the deck
with its pleasing benches and sylvan view,
the back yard we have descends steeply
to a little stream called Chimacum Creek.

It is September, so the Creek’s waters
are shallow, so shallow that
little music from its ripple and flow
rises to meet our eager, listening ears above.

Any day now, the waters will surrender
their serenity and in noisy salute
yield to thrashing thunder,
as salmon spawn and meet their demise.

Sheltering us there from summer’s heat
and winter’s chilled and rainy drench,
a little family of barred owls often call and beg,
their nocturne nearly undisturbed by our home's intrusion.

Outside, my wife stands in solitary contemplation,
for this is her temple, and she its worthy guest.
Yet the minutes and hours pass so slowly now,
as grief stands weary watch with her.

We had grown so accustomed to our dear child’s
heartened ways, as ever eager to greet us
at morning’s hesitant, uncertain dawning glow
as at evening’s surrender to curl upon our bed to sleep.

Jet black hair and soft green eyes—her special dance
each moment to delight us so, we had never ever
thought today would bring us only fading echoes of
all we held so dear in this sweet and tender form.

No matter that she had a tail and two more legs than us,
she lived and loved and spoke with such eloquence
and grace, the best of us were shamed.
Angels withheld not their envy and begged for her return.

So grieve with us a moment, for fled is now
that little feline snowflake in our hand.
My rhyme is vanished; my muse is stilled.
Shadow was her name.


Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2017


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Hopeless

It seeps into your bones this silent sadness Spreading like a caustic cancerous liquid Black and oozing slithery fingers into spaces Once open petals to joy and light ... and hope Like the nap of a velvet pillow Stroked with the palm against the grain Changing smiles to tears and love to hate Choking the light of life from your soul You scream to release the impending hell But the sound is choked back by the oil And only a gurgle of a horrific thought emerges The impact lost in the silenced words No one knows ... no one sees The unrelenting march of death that spreads Beyond sight ... without sound ... in the depths Of your being and your defeated mortality Willing it to stop with what’s left of your resolve Yet knowing your weak fight can no longer conquer Surrendering to the chokehold on your soul The night is your comfort and your demise. ____________________________ 5/23/2018


Copyright © Judith S | Year Posted 2018