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 Oct 2016 Robin MacCuish
Maxine
We fell in love with each other but at two different times.
Our distance is time, the hardest type, irreversible and uncontrollable.
―m
 Oct 2016 Robin MacCuish
Lunar
he asked if i ever smoked
because my eyes are always teary
and my lips are pale and dry
with my hands always shaking

i told him no
but my mind's a constant cloudy haze
and it's caused by something dangerous
to both our health

when it burns, it has this unpleasant smell
and tastes bitter on my tongue
much like your bitter lips
spitting out unpleasant words

it's us bygone,
it's we
in the past tense
it's we-ed
hi!! i enjoyed writing this one, because it popped up at first while i talked to tamia about **** (see what a conversation between two poets can cause) and i made a joke that there's a 'we' in **** and the "-ed" is a suffix for the past tense of some action. so i decided to play it into a poem and voila! enjoy this **** :-)
Fill my head with the brisk, night air.
So I can finally think.
Fill my lungs with the moons soft, light rays.
Let it drown me.
Fill my bones with the dry feel of leaves.
So it can replace the ache.
Fill my heart with this earthy content sound.
So the calm can take.
Fill me up with this autumn evening.
Let it consume me whole.
Let it, for just one night, do all the feeling.
Let this autumn night take control,
 Oct 2016 Robin MacCuish
Morgan
I was there

in a vision of permanence
enlivened entirely in the reflection of your geometric eyes, until

I witnessed you turn your hands into lines
I noticed as you ceased to blink
I marveled at its precision

I giggled at my ambit
I giggled at my dimensions
I marveled at my own precision

I removed my layer from your eyes
They might have boiled in my stomach.
They might have clawed up my throat.
They might have dripped from my eyes.
But now, they're just something that I wrote.
Sometimes you just have to write it.
Then let it go.
I remember the scarlet taste
from biting my lips.
I remember the salty water,
that my eyes had dripped.
I remember the silent screams,
that had rang in my head.
But most of all, I remember
all those desperate words I never said.
I know I write a lot of poems on words. But it's because I feel so strongly about them! We could change the world if only we spoke more kindly to one another and said what needed to be said. Holding words in hurts too much anyway.
red blue
and
green
water lilies
unfold
and
move the
wind parade
through
our
temple souls
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