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Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.
Secrets create,
Enemies and friends.
Can start new trends.
Reveal new tech.
Endanger peace.
Turn blue to red.
Secret whispers.

Secrets welcome.
Extra income.
Conditional love.
Regretful outcomes.
Emotional sin.
The hidden grin.
Secret whispers.

Secret sounds.
Entrapped inside.
Craves to be found.
Results in lies.
Eats till it dies,
Till realized.
Secret whispers, do not hide.
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
This is one of the sample stories in my new book, "BitterSweet," which has become a #1 New Release on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/BitterSweet-Lior-Gavra/dp/0999497103/
Imagine us being together,
maybe us being forever.
Imagine us being happy with one another,
and cuddling underneath the covers.
Imagine me kissing all over you,
and my hands wandering all over your body too.
Imagine me with my hands all in your hair,
and telling you how much I care.
Imagine yourself running your fingers down my spine,
and you saying "you're all mine".
Imagine us messing up the bed sheets,
and listening to each other's heartbeat.
Imagine our bare skin touching,
our naked bodies cuddling.
Imagine one of my hands clutching the bed,
and another rubbing the top of your head.
Imagine me scratching you down your back,
and giving you all the love you have lacked.
Imagine us being together,
maybe us being forever.
Take my head and lead the way
Let's just take it day by day
Let your voice whisper in my ear
All the lovely things I've been waiting to hear
Kiss my lips and touch my skin
I feel a slight rush, it's my adrenaline
Trace your fingers down my spine
That'll make my head spin
Tell me you love me
And don't ever let me be
Run your fingers through my hair
And tell me you'll always be here with me
Sing to me till I fall asleep
Then tell me I'm something that you'll always want to keep
Hold me close at night
And whisper "everything is going to be alright"
I'll wake up to you looking into my eyes
My eyes blue as the morning sky
You'll kiss me passionately and say "I love you"
I'll reply and say "I love you too"
Then we'll run away from our problems and you'll take my hand
And watch our love expand
in the dark
compass spinning
wanton wind
howling, wailing
brittle arms
in concert waving
emerald waters
whipped and raging

sky crushed velvet
sequins sewn tight
to the shattered
span of night
a million times
each time as new
with stardust eyes
with gratitude
everything of
me was choir-song

every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,

in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,

in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,

in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,

and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,

everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,

i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.
Young girls laugh
and cut the stems with fingernails
or small blunt scissors and set them in a vase
they gleam
rough cut flowers
husks by next month
after the water has dried
their stems touching crystal.

Weighty as feathers
desiccated while in bloom
these fossils
touched the moon
only a shadow
of their former selves
brides of the clouds
like statice, lavender, eucalyptus,
pearly everlasting
is nothing but lashes
claws of petal
they don’t care if they are hollow
if their throats are silent
wear iron smiles
ghost bloom
the very bitterness in them
is just a bough of hours
suitably decorating
the table.
©marywinslow2016 all right reserved. This is an old poem included in my collection of poems with Jeff Stier
The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides
 Aug 2019 Neon Robinson
Kate Lion
When I get bored
I dip my toes in pirhana-infested lakes
I walk through snow caves where knives hang instead of icicles
I reach my hands into a sky filled with nuclear gas and breathe deeply

When I get bored
And review my life like a *** tape you feel guilty for watching but you can't help it because you're mesmerized by all your failures

I make a resolution to get clean, I scrub the stains from the bathtub with toxic chemicals until my head swirls from the fumes

I stumble and stutter
I can barely get myself to stand up--

When I get bored,
I think of suicide.
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