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I was strolling down the aisle
We were shopping there in style
With my daughter sitting smiling in the cart,
I was stretching out my hand
For the Martinelli's brand
When the apple of my eye gave me a start.

With the bottle in my grasp
I saw, coming toward us fast,
A high heeled damsel, scarfed and towing her caddie
And she smirked as I, condemned,
Stood up to comprehend
The reason, as my child said "Whisky Daddy?"

There was nothing I could say,
To make it seem another way,
To vanquish the conviction so compelling
It was the color you could tell
And the shape she knew so well,
The question that my daughter asked was telling.

Neil Stewart McLeod
This poem is published in an anthology called "A Ship In A Bottle" and is available from this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Ship-In-Bottle-Stewart-McLeod/dp/1490390847/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372568128&sr=8-1&keywords=a+ship+in+a+bottle+Neil+Stewart+McLeod#reader_1490390847Neil
  Apr 2017 Leaetta May
Richard Grahn
A writer writes…
so that’s what I do.

Not that I must
But it’s the right thing to do.

It’s not always easy
to lay down a line
on a small scrap of paper
that’s so hard to find.

Expressive nouns and passionate verbs
they assault my brain and
take me away.

There’s no way to dictate them
out on a page.
So I write them all down
any place that I can.

While at the bar,
a napkin will do.
Or in my car,
a matchbook or two.
A Post-It will get me by
in a pinch.
Or any other paper
I’m happy to find.

And into my shoebox
I tucked them away.

I laid them right there
for another day.

Occasionally I’d come back
to see what they say.
Reading them over
again and again.

Into my brain,
that's where they have gone.
Stuck in my mind
for a decade or more.

The shoebox is gone now
from so long ago…but
the memories still linger
inside my brain and
out to my fingers
they continue to flow.

I write them all down
and expand on those thoughts.
Remembering the memories
I once thought were lost.

An explosion of words
pouring out on the page.
These many little thoughts they
now have a stage.

The lasting memories
are now down in print.
The shoebox is gone
but the words are in ink.
Leaetta May Apr 2017
My head is on the pillow
Heart echoes in my ear
I pull my warming arms
out from neath the  covers


Searching for a familiar arm
a familiar leg
I pull it under
My warm fuzzy friend
hold it to my *****
Now restlessness will end
thoughts on lights out, saying good night to the world, The Teddy I never had
Leaetta May Apr 2017
striped sky
floating breeze
March winds
play with Spring again
Comes ravishing,
leaves her spent
An on-off relationship.
  Apr 2017 Leaetta May
Lina Lotus
Trauma Center

Smoke
Liquid on the ground
My head spinning
"Are you ok", I hear her asking
"I'm an EMT"
I hear a male say
"Hold on don't close your eyes, help is coming"
Then what appeared to be the longest wait reaches an end
I hear a man almost ripping out the door from my new red car (doesn't matter it's just a car)
Finally with a neck brace and on a stretcher
Flashing lights and sirens screaming
It hit me
I can't move and my abdomen feels like I got punched a million times
I can feel someone cutting through my pants
My knees where bleeding
"Where your pants torn before the impact?"
" no," I answer
How? I was just driving

"We're here"
Push, push
Hurry, hurry
I feel all, ALL of my clothes being cut off
Tests and more tests
I'm just thankful I'm alive!  

------------------------------//////::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The Things we take for granted

I used to breathe without having to think about it
Now I slowly inhale waiting for the pain that follows
I used to get up...in seconds I'd be on my feet
Now the pain is excruciating
I need support to pull myself up
Getting into bed is another eternal task
But thankful to God that I'm still here
And working on recuperating
Please wear your seat belt it saved my life

Pray for me
* the lady that came to my help... she sat next to me, prayed for me as we waited for the  paramedics-- her name was Lina! like me:) coincidence? I think not
Not a poem. Please, always wear your seat belt
  Mar 2017 Leaetta May
Renée Brookes
The color of royalty claims her,
a purple pool of shadow.
She is majestic,
her wings spread to be the size of the earth.
Her unique display captivates
as she sits and as in motion.
She is limitless.

I think I can love her.

The color of the skies cloak her,
the stars her favorite.
She is free,
unbound to soar every inch of this world.
Her eyes pierce into my very existence
seeing all that I am.
She is timeless.

I AM in love with her..

I want her all to myself.
I NEED her all to myself,
to love the only way I know how.
I cut off her wings and throw her in a cage.

Now she can be, MY Queen.
I wrote this in the perspective of my boyfriend.
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