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 Jun 2018 Cheryl
h bridgeman
the smell of your cologne lingers
on my clothes and it hurts my heart.
you aren't mine but at the same time
i think you are.
there's something about the way we
are with each other that makes me
feel like we belong to each other.
you let me hold you, never showing
that you hate the way i drape myself
over you like you do with others.
you joke with me in a different way
to the way you do with everyone else.
people tell me that you act differently
when you're with me and i wish i could
tell you that everything you do brings a
smile to my lips, something that doesn't
seem to happen a lot anymore.
i want to tell you that every time
something reminds me of the way you
move, talk, smell; my heart skips several
beats.
your cologne lingers on my clothes but
you're not mine and i have to wash
it away.
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Elle Kris
I bloomed like a flower for you.
An annual.
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Larry Kotch
Ash
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Larry Kotch
Ash
I carved your name into trunks,
And sent you down the river in a hurry,
You were silent then, no anxious digs or hearty laughs,
We poured our hearts and you just disappeared.
Just behind the leaves and then I lost you
Though I know we had said our goodbyes,
I expected more time than smoke and rays.

And so I came back home with less family,
Though you, a child, were adopted by the kindest mother;
The paintings you had made of her,
I see them through your eyes,
I rub them as your colours fly,
When the woodland ended and meadows welcomed me back;
I saw your visions come to life.
This Poem is about nature welcoming back a loved one when you spread their ashes in a special place. In my case this was my Grandmother who was a very keen painter of the countryside. The Woodland where her ashes were spread represent the feminine and chaos from death. The carving and meadows are the link from this sad place back to the orderly world from where she painted and where I knew her.
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Kyle Kulseth
I thought I heard
               Canadian slang
from the opposite bed-side
Like it's 2009, rub some lines off my face.
Inner space bleeding outward,
deep red, a nosebleed,
angled points on white of The Maple Jack.
               A Nip at the Sal's on Esplanade-Riel.

Grab your runners and toque,
               it's warm, but not forever
and these legs are sore. Polar bears
on the sweater you wore in the Fall--
Churchill, Manitoba, the streets are full of teeth and claws.
Awoke and wanted warmth lacking.
I thought I heard Canadian slang.

I thought I heard "it'll be okay"
from the voices of feathers fletching arrows falling.
     they whisper and screams sink deep behind
                                     eyelids
                                     closing.
A sentence unfinished,
                sinking in flesh
                              in time
                sinking
                              in snow and ice
                sinking
                              in water in Summer
                sinking
                              in memory.

I thought I heard
               plans being made
and shy laughter.
I heard it 5 times. Didn't I?
Days fade, ears dull*
Walking on streets, in the cold
towards her home
I thought I heard laughter--
                                   heard something
                        like laughter--
I thought I heard rain, as the Lodgepoles drank water.

I thought I heard laughter.

I thought I heard wax melt.
I thought I smelled fairness.
I thought you wanting more time
to bleed and blur tenses.
I thought I heard rivers rushing and roaring
                                                 their battle cries--
--asserting their presence.
I thought I heard cars pass and sounds of the daytime
                    and late March walk along bridges.

I could swear I heard something
     Like Canadian slang,
                 sweet
                     water
                  light
                      laughter.
Som­ething.
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
AumaObure
Life is too short to hold grudges and hate
Live your life now; be happy
Fall in love and don’t be afraid of heartbreaks
Don’t be afraid to make mistakes
We all learn from our mistakes
I would say I have made mistakes,
Been naughty and stubborn
Been in love and heartbroken
Been sad and happy
I am not perfect, yes
But am always willing to take risks in anything
I have always been fearless
Because, it’s only a matter of days, weeks, months, years,
Before we all out of this world
It’s just a matter of time before we leave everything behind
It’s just a matter of time...
I hope to live to experience everything my heart desires…
I wouldn’t talk about living long enough,
Because, I mean how enough is enough?
One day when I am gone, you will say;
She lived, loved, explored and was always happy!!
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Wes Brandon
Do five syllables
Do five syllables again
This is a haiku
Many will say, "something is wrong here".  Most will think they are write.  But think closer dear,  its all about how you right.
 Jun 2018 Cheryl
Redshift
three sets of withered, wrinkly hands
with chipped
tired
pale-pink nailpolish
flutter in the air,
describing.

three froofy perms
one browny-gray
one white
one salt and pepper
bob
jutting forward,
one
wobbles a little.

Grandma wears
a green-foam party hat
with a thin, white elastic band
that runs under her wrinkled chin
it sits atop her fuzzy perm
comically...
she smiles
at me.

"Ah! my cappuccino! you remembered i like it, didn't you?"
she chucks her great-granddaughter
under the chin,
grins
"oohh! look at these gardening gloves! Cidi! look at these gloves! i like the green ones."
she hands them to her white-haired sister
aunt cidi told me
this year she is
ninety-one
oh, and the gloves were really
blue.

aunt cidi
misses uncle harland
he was buried three or four years ago
in his uniform
i remember sitting next to him
at awkward family reunions
eating hotdogs
i never saw so much mustard
in my life
he could never hear me
when i tried to talk to him
but he smiled
anyway.

the talk turns serious
suddenly
over our black coffee
crossed legs
sweaters
and chocolate cake
grandma turns grim
in her lime-green party hat
"did you end up killing that trumpet vine in your yard, Jeanie?"
aunt jeanie's head wobbles a bit
she squints
wrinkles her nose
"i TRIED to!"
she scowls.

schemes of ******
plotted by three chunky-earringed
sweet
old ladies
who are a little late
for the 1940's
but never too late
for a handsome
soldier
"we're older..."
says aunt jeanie
"but not THAT old!"
they all
giggle.
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