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 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Ryan O'Leary
Were I the artist,
you not the one,
to sit -

Then, what be seen,
in, literature,
is writ -

No silhouette,
no tossed up coin,

No rolls, no turns,
no heads, with tails,

Could make, this
story, fit.
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Traveler
Slowly my imagination fades
That creative side of yesterday
I bid farewell with kiss goodnight
Sadly I've lost my poetic sight

Oh but I remember when
The words would come
And have no end
An expression of wounds
The darkness within
But even the poet
Must someday mend
Traveler Tim
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Vener
Memories
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Vener
Hey, I remember--
stories of you and I when--
you were still alive.
These memories will--
continue alongside me--
'til the day I die.
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Ryan O'Leary
The umbilical cord
through which mother
earth receives the
necessary ingredients
for her pallet of Spring,
is the rainbow!
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Jack L Martin
The sound waves that emanate
from one's throat and mind
echo about;
freely through space and time

Whether those sound waves
are received by
intelligent life
is the real mystery?!
If anyone asks,
"What is your favorite color?"

Just reply,
"The Color of you."
Alright

With different expressions
You keep on changing
I wonder how you do it
Sometimes I don’t know
What color is it
Sometimes the hue
Keeps on surprising
Close to magic it seems

Often,
Sudden change in contrast
From bright moonlight to eclipse
From dark shade to snow white
Puzzles me
Should I trust my eyes?
The two sides of life

The color of you
Makes me concern
What to expect, the next

Hopefully,
The best color
Yet to see
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Color of Happiness Vs. Shades of Sadness
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Ryan O'Leary
If Rick O'Shea was
a Buddhist he'd be
reincarnated as a
butterfly.
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Ryan O'Leary
DNA is a dyslexic
conjunction for a
back word haiku
 Sep 2018 rhiannon
Ryan O'Leary
On waking, I imagined
you were by the side of
my bed standing with
the elegance of a gold
nib at the tip of a Mt.Blanc.

A letter from a ballerina
in calligraphic art, just as
a figure skater scribes
****** missives on ****** ice.
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