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 Mar 2017 Lady
Joel M Frye
weeds
 Mar 2017 Lady
Joel M Frye
To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days.  Thank you.
Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again
 Mar 2017 Lady
Sarah Spang
I got low
I went down
In my descent
I brushed the ground
And down below
Amidst the dirt
My ***** fingers
Combed the earth
I went deeper
Nails and teeth
The bones of trees
The stones beneath.
And then- at last-
Upon the fringe
My hands brushed hell
My fingers singed
I reached bottom
Saw you there
Immersed in fire's
Dancing flare.

At the bottom
At the end
I watched you burn
And fell again.

The inferno's twice as hot
When you have to watch someone you love

Burn.
 Mar 2017 Lady
Emily Austin
“Edith Black” By Emily Austin

I felt my wife's hand grace my shoulder.
I brought my hand to hers, held it and I told her
“I love you Edith Black”
But she doesn't say it back.

I heard my wife humming through our old crickety house.
I got up and I told my beautiful darling spouse
“I love you Edith Black”
But she doesn't say it back.

I smell my wife making coffee at about half past one.
I follow the scent and I tell my dear sweet hon
“I love you Edith Black”
But she doesn't say it back.

I remember the olden days.
I remember when she used to say
“I love you Alan Black.”
And I'd always say it back.

I can no longer take her hand in mine
Or see her smile of bright sunshine
But only in my head
For my darling Edith Black
is dead.

If I could change one simple thing
I'd bring her back so she could sing.
Or just so I could say
“I love you Edith Black”
And have her say it back.
 Feb 2017 Lady
silvervi
Live
 Feb 2017 Lady
silvervi
If you wanna laugh -
                                   Laugh!

If you wanna cry -
                                   Cry!

If you wanna love -
                                   Love!

But if you wanna die -
                                   Don't...
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