They sat at a table, weathered and wide,
Under cottonwood branches, side by side.
The July sun filtered through leaves like lace,
Softening time, and softening space.
Years had passed—some sharp, some kind—
Each carried stories, heavy with time.
But here they were, two hearts grown old,
Still warm, still curious, still untold.
She smiled at him through lines of grace,
Brushing hair from her wind-swept face.
“Tell me,” she said, with a quiet sigh,
“Why did we break up? Please tell me why.”
He blinked, then chuckled, slow and low,
“I honestly… don’t even know.
Maybe fear, or maybe pride,
Or just the ache of growing wide.”
He spoke of work, of quiet nights,
She spoke of love, of wrongs and rights.
But in the hush between each thought,
A closeness bloomed they never sought.
“Coffee dates sometime?” she asked at last,
Letting the moment not rush past.
“Maybe supper too,” he said, eyes bright,
“Some evening when the stars feel right.”
And nothing more was planned that day,
Except to let the past give way.
To something small, and sweet, and true—
A second chance beneath the blue.
Scott W.
David was advised by his kin
the sling's the thing
if you want to win
tho' small as he was
without fear
he did let fly
and rocked Goliath's world
right between the eyes
before he had time
to come near
or even throw his spear
alone from afar David did fling
and with a single stone's throw
he let go one shot to the head
and brought the giant down
yea verily knocked him stone-cold dead
Before the first moonlight spilled down upon us like winged doves from the sky
we were fettered together like lovers were,
In passion not yet transmuted into devotion to one another.
Above us rose a virgin sky void of stars
of constellations that would map out our cosmic future.
You, son of Adonis in my wide eyes, me, an idol of Inanna,
Convincing the future to never let this die,
Not knowing as of yet that Amphitrite and Poseidon’s coercive alliance
would coax us down the coast where we would seek refuge
in the surf and away from the trappings of winter’s swirling snows
and snarling winds.
Many years into a union of rings of gold and diamonds,
tumultuous at times but mostly heaven falling with her
heaviness upon us.
We fight side by side for a peace that seems so easily bestowed
upon others
And yet, like the ashes of Kilauea we rise without choking
At night we listen for the songs of our children
Born and unborn
reminding us we are wrapped in the protection of cashmere Carolina twilight.
ROSE dear, in you I see my control gear
RISE from your doubts, feel not any fear
HOT looks of yours, makes me totally wet
HOP and hug me, for you I readied a jet
WAG to me you become, to have my kith and kin
WAR of any kind on earth, for you I will surely win
10th place
...His hand flashed fast, the Colt spoke loudly,
Dalton was struck, flew back wildly.
Silas shifted right, cut down that man,
still fumbling with the gun in his hand.
The other man threw his hands up high,
said Silas, “Run, or you too will die.”
The bandit scrambled, leaving the bar,
Dalton still breathed, but wouldn’t get far.
“In what wourld could we ever be kin?”
snarled Silas, standing over him.
“When you get there, find Satan and tell
him how a Hamlin sent you to Hell.”
Dalton’s breath rasped, the fear present now,
wanting mercy he’d never allowed,
but Silas cared not, slowly took aim,
then sent a bullet straight through his brain.
The saloon was still, people hiding,
Silas straight up, gun still smoking,
said to the bartender, “Sorry for the floor.”
flipped him some gold, then strode out the door.
“ “
Quote
raised,
aware
of silence
in the red-eyed night,
morning likewise in quietude
until the incessant dirge of Poe, the bells bringing
down the house, and in the garden, an eagle…
…throws its wings around the tombstone’s shoulders
Now the time has come to tell the truth
But, I don't want to come across as uncouth
So sad to say I had my day
All along the months of May
To sing along with a ding-a-ling
Even with a Cheech and Ching
There were the days I gave myself a haze
And was always in a complete daze
Sleeping with the men
Keeping track of kin
by the sea on shore
birds squawk squabble and jostle
feathered typecast kin
You know, I've been keeping count.
Of the years,
of the friends.
Those gained and lost,
the memories and the cost.
I'm not sure which
has topped the weight class -
the good, the laughs and the light,
or the pain, the loss and that sight.
Of the headstones,
the folded flags;
the mothers' cries
and brothers' eyes.
I know the count of them all.
Today a year goes to rest,
and a new cycle begins.
I beg of Life a reprieve,
a chance less to grieve.
I know not what to offer,
what you would take in trade -
be it a life, or a soul,
part of me or the whole.
Whatever it may be,
however large the demand;
take off this accursed gyve,
and leave them alive.
"Curiouser and curiouser!", Alice proclaimed
" eye two, am adore "
Seven ol' kin
on the strong arms
of Seven strong more
Mercurius wings by to sing
" ... Welcome to the game, Ein ..."
Albert said to tangle
so direct in his angle
pressure from the Sun
became my angel
so diamonds
in the dust
became a trust
I reflected...
Homer said two hymns
and so within 33
I selected
two pair
Athena said to Hera
"... the heart of a Lion is there..."
Asclepius ...
when the Moon is high
bring the twins to align the sky
... so eleven walked in
The cure is a miracle
an oracle
as a mirror,
four the mind...
" ... I am and we are Kind;..."
An Astronut, perhaps, but
a funny one too ;)
You’ve heard of a destination wedding?
What about a destination restaurant.
Head to Mexico’s Kin Toh Restaurant.
High above the Mayan jungle.
You enjoy cocktails mixed by talented bartenders.
And enjoy avant-garde cuisine full of organic vegetables.
While gazing toward the Caribbean sunset.
Each night they feature a world-renown performer.
Destination Restaurant – Kin Toh.
Do not miss this opportunity!
You who had seen my next of kin
Dining and wining near a bin
And you forgot to raise a din
Or had minded your Gripping Gin…
It was A War you did not win,
Though Loss reports not on The Skin
Like would Incisive Pricks of Pin
Or handiwork of Wounding Tin…
Your love, please, extend to My Kin
In Water Fish that needs Your Fin:
Never mind his mischievous grin
Nor like God be counting his sin…
Eyeing every trophy is a sin,
Always craving it a prickly pin;
A critic right to raise a din:
“A propensity fit for our Dust Bin!”
For those who often seek to win
Force our hands to support either chin
And our skin pricks with a pin …
An obsession I won’t excuse my kin,
As doing so quite a kin
To eating from a rusted tin
Or relishing a non-nourishing fin.
Order I shall such a kin
To pay with an apologizing gin;
Dying to win all the time, sin.
brood
close by
sustain you
no matter what
throb if they behave erratically.
Written: February 12, 2022
The relay revolves each day,
each generation has its say,
courage,with wisdom decides
to step aside as its guide;
Kin to kin,father to son,
revolution continues on,
a baton from hand to hand,
constant flows,the timer's sand;
A time o relax,sit back
other navigate the tack,
with time to enjoy,reflect,
nothing ever is perfect.
Continuity lives within
Each creative act we begin.
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