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 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
Kim Essary
Have you ever wonder what is at the end  of a rainbow. Or do rainbows ever end?
Believing or not believing that would all depend.
The Irish, such as myself have always believed at the end of every rainbow, a  little man called a leprechaun awaits protecting his *** of gold.:
If the rest of the world can see  UFO's and green little men called aliens,  then why is it so hard to believe in a leprechaun and stories our ancestors told .
The magic of the rainbow is it is  caused by the sunlight,  yet always appears on the opposite side of the sun.
The colors, an array of beauty as it's pattern always has seven.
They say in Ireland if you sit and listen you can sometimes hear the sound of the leprechauns gold coins hitting hos iron pail.
Beware of trying to find him or ask from him his gold because he will never tell .
But there is one thing he will do to make you see his trickery and play you like a fool
He will grant you three wishes but before you know it he will run off  to never be seen again because leprechauns live by only the leprechauns Rule,
Some call it a myth some believe it to be true
Me , aw yes I believe in leprechauns and his *** of gold too
 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
Colm
The world's OK, it's the people that spoil it.
Just UGHHH...
 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
phil roberts
I have little thought for these days
As the future evaporates
And the past grows fat and vivid
I amuse myself with games of flashback
Faces and places flickering
Across an empty mind
Dragging their stories behind them
Dead memories metamorphosing
Into living visceral dreams
Where the flowers of love and loss
Are intertwined so closely
That with the passing of time
They each rob the other
Of some pain and glory
As reality gives way
To a realisation of truth

                                      By Phil Roberts
 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
Napolis
It is the
underside
of your belly
that I love
the most,

the tender
flesh,
the beating
of your
heart through
your skin
rising up
to greet me.

like an
old lover
a best friend.

and no other
place have
I ever called
home,

and meant it
like when
I say it
to you.

and love is
a rainbow
in your eyes,

and you
are all the colors
of my
watercolor
dreams
at night.

at day.

whenever
I taste your
lips...
 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
Pagan Paul
.


The table lamp

The single book of verse.

The ornament standing alone.

The photo in an unforgiving frame.

Or just
the dust


gathering comfort
in a bitter room.





© Pagan Paul (2016/17/18)
.
Old Poem
Shaped to look like a table lamp.
.
 Aug 2018 Me Díaz
Napolis
What could
of mattered
most to
us is
now lost,

amongst the
paper towns
of your life
and all
of the
tumbleweeds
that leave
rolling
nowhere.

bottom of
the bottle
time to
tell myself

sober up!

about our
relationship,

have a
reckoning
with  the
moon and
stars that
we used
to dance back
and forth
upon every
night.

time to
empty my
tears for
you in this
waste paper
basket next
to my computer.

where sad
poems go
to die.

and now I am
left without
you.

and all of
the diamonds that
you held
in your
eyes.

and your
wet hot
kisses
that seem
to last
forever.

when first
light was
everything,

and naked
was our
flesh as
one.
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