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Time draws close for dispersal.

Coming summer there'll be no traces
of the faces beaming at the gate.

Eyes sparkling lips apart
breaking into one more dance
to be in the sunlight under sky.

Hugs and kisses fly in the wind
maybe one last embrace
for all time to come.

They'll see the world differently
and their paths will never meet,
most likely.

The most intimate will become strangers
before once more
they disperse at the gate.

I turn back with the weight of this memory.
 Feb 22 Crow
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                    Watching the Rain Without You

The rain is incomplete without you
If you were here we could sit on the couch
I’d put a Frank Sinatra on the machine
So he and the rain could sing to us

But especially to you

The rain is incomplete without you
If you were here we could lie on the floor
As I read the funny papers to you
And do you like good ol’ Charlie Brown?

But of course you do

The rain is incomplete without you
It misses you almost as much as I

Almost
A job
done right
is never finished

A job
done wrong
is a certain do over

A job
never attempted
is wasted potential

A job
avoided
leads to
suspicion

And suspicion
leads to
no job at all
 Feb 22 Crow
Cné
Poet
 Feb 22 Crow
Cné
His colloquy, vintage, rich and bold
Unveiling nuances, young and old
Subtleties dance, like fireflies at night
Whispered innuendos, a gentle, sweet delight

His flavor, a lingering caress
Savoring bliss, in each
tender address
In this sensory waltz, entwined
A delicate balance of taste and design

Where words become wine,
and wine becomes art
Relentless aftertaste, a deliberate
imprint on the heart
She made me a scarf.
It was Ireland green
France Fleur de lis blue
Germany's sunset red.
She worries about me like
a treasure in her heart
where I feel most at home,
that will be lost someday.
 Feb 22 Crow
SøułSurvivør
If a heart broke in the forest...
... would you hear a sound?

Where's the sound
of a heart breaking?
Is it a mighy noise?
What kind of music does it play?
The lullaby destroys!

Where's the crash of a soul cracking?
Is it in the rushing wind?
Is it in leather'n flapping wings
As all of Hell decends?

Where's a bass cocophany
In the wrist that bleeds?
What sort of soil accepts and grows
The poison crimson seeds?

Where's the green stick fracture?
Where's the ruptured spleen?
Where's the cancer in the brain?
Where is the pain unseen?
the Foe Forest
And what if the
Entire moon should crack?
And all the high stars fell?
There's an end... and you decend...

... into the pits of HELL.



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
 Feb 15 Crow
Caroline Shank
Remember Me

Light is falling through the
Sleeves of my longing.

That's pretty good.  You
take me into the grotte
of imagination.  You

Nudge me
And I grapple with the
silence of rhymes.

Long was the life
time spent in the

whorle of loving.

The verbs I write
at all in the shadow where
my desk rests on the
faux brick wall are quiet

against the window curtain.

And I breathe.

Not all poetry calls you to
me as Sara writes. It's
the literature of my life

as I walk alone on the
beach where we stood

and Kissed that last
Night

The waves off Sarasota
splashed against us

The gulls screeched.

Taps sounded in the
night’s wind..

And I am fragile. I
sleep late and stay
out of the sun.

You may remember my
face.  

My stumble.

The last morning of

the

World.


Caroline Shank
February 12, 2025
 Feb 15 Crow
Donall Dempsey
MR. DADDY SOFT SOFT

Always her fascination with me
shaving.

This her early morning ritual
observing each action

as if it were holy.

I hide my face in foam.

“Santa Claus! Santa Claus!”
she chants

winces with delight as the razor
(she gulps)          

goes over my bump without
(gasp)slicing it off.

The shaving uncovers the me she knows.

“Soft…soft. . .Mr. Daddy Soft Soft!”
she gurgles in a lather of laughter.

“Me now…now me!” she pleads with me.


I take the brush…coat her reflection with foam.
I shave her…with the tip of my little finger.

Her reflection sniggers & she sniggers too.

Later, in the early evening
she appears  

bearded in fresh  cream.

She shaves herself with a lollipop stick.
“Me... Daddy now...see!”

I cha cha cha her on the tips of my toes
as she clings to my fingertips

the living room dances around us

One delighted half shaved little girl.

One delighted soft soft Mr. Daddy.
 Feb 15 Crow
Em MacKenzie
My dad spent most of his life
singing songs wishing to be a rockstar.
“Can’t get no satisfaction” and “Mack the knife”
a handful of applause from drunks in a dark bar.

The sights I hated to see
now the person I don’t wish to be,
my potential could be monumental
if I could just turn dreams to reality.
The days of a wasted youth
ignoring a tragic truth,
I could make history by solving a mystery
if I could only find the proof.

My mom’s favourite song was “Fast Car”
but at the funeral, I picked Fleetwood’s “Landslide.”
There was no point in highlighting an old scar,
some times and places, there’s just things you should hide.

The sights I hated to see
can’t be wiped from my memory,
and what I fear the most is that there’s no ghost
that has been haunting me.
Now I get the appeal of the drink
from the cabinet or underneath the sink,
without warning, about ten in the morning
it was worse than you could ever hope or think.

My feet pushed against the white floor board
and my back leaned up against the bed.
Thinking about how the surface was scored,
the colours mix; white, orange blue and red.
In the basement with my precious; my hoard,
with the knowledge no one would know if I were dead.
Suddenly it was a thought that I explored
that maybe I enjoyed that course instead.
And to the heights I once soared,
please tell me the best days are still ahead.
1989- someday
It's not the weight of a feather
that crushes you

It's the fear that it could

Time is the tick that ***** the tock out of you

Death is that time share you bought long ago thinking you'd never use it

Yesterday was the first day of the rest of your life . . . .
and your last

The future holds no favors
The past all your grudges
The present by your *****

Did I leave anything out ?
Did I hold anything in ?
Did I forget a thing ?

A feather for your thoughts
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