I'm just allowed to read 5 poems. I can't scroll down for  more.
I don't know what mistake I've made for Eliot to close the door.
I know I'm not the only one with no access to the index
Which I consulted constantly from forgetfulness and reflex.
Is there some way to make amends and put things back to right
Or are we all to drop our pens and fade into the night.

Will Eliot do something new and leave us on our own
Or are his plans a secret - totally to us unknown
Will Hello Poetry ever come back and be the way it's been
If we should lose our access it would be the gravest sin
I've offered Elliot a check instead of monthly nicks
But I've not had a word from him - up to his usual tricks.

I'll keep submitting what I write and see if it's displayed
And if it  never does appear, sadly I will be dismayed
If I am not the only one facing this conundrum
Let me have a word or two and tell me who it's from.
Then I won't feel I've crossed a line and there's no hope for me
And all together we will wait to see what we can see.

Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.
             ljm

An artificial crimson blossom
In the garden of God’s roses
I’m made of silk and wire and glue
On a slender stem of green bamboo.
Artistry makes me look real
And though I turn to face the Son
I can’t create perfume to offer
And I stand out painfully
Among the genuine creations.
Waiting for the Gardener
To notice me and **** me out
To die among the brambles
I tried diigently to escape.
              ljm

Can all of the real Chrstians,
The ones who actually
Follow the commandments,
Outvote the Quasi Christians
Who hold their Bibles upside down
And can not quote John 3:16

Probably not.

But add them to the multitude of  
Non religious voting people
Those who read and understand
The message written on the wall,
And  know they want to vote again
And have a choice when four years pass.

Then maybe yes.
                ljm

The door is slowly opening
I can hear the hinges creaking
As it is forced to move.
What pagan wind invades
The solace of this silent chamber
To move what has grown stationary
In the effort to hold back
The machinations that are
Fluttering like brazen banners
On the brightly gilded lances
Of the mavens of decay
           ljm

Hindered by the need for practicality,
The song that longs to heal the world
Remains unsung.
The steps that would have mended broken spirits
Remain undanced.

Blinded by the need to see reality
The cotton candy dawning clouds
Turn stormy gray.
The breeze that eases all the doubt and fear
Grows into a howling gale

Deafened by the clarion call of duty
The cries of broken little birds
Cannot be heard.
The words that float on images of grace and beauty
Remain unwritten.

Stunted by the evil of aphasia
The verses that could have lived forever
Lie entangled on the tablet.
The Laurel wreath that had my name on it
Lies now withered on the floor.
                  ljm