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 Oct 2021 Sekhar
Corrinne Shadow
Banners billow
And flutter in the breeze.
Loose sleeves, loose leaves,
And friendly bees.
 Jan 2021 Sekhar
Corrinne Shadow
Last night I dreamed a poem
I've never read before.
I guess you could say I wrote it,
Yet it left me wanting more.

Something about American Dreams...
About how nothing is as it seems...
Something about the city lights...
Something about our human rights...

I had scrawled it on the pavement
With a giant pencil in hand.
So all the world could know my intent
When first stepping into this land.

This morning I woke inspired,
I was ready, so ready to share!
I looked out the window and saw what transpired,
And now I do not dare.

They've stomped all over the pavement.
The roads are awash with blood.
There's screaming and crying.
My people are dying.
Their tears make a violent flood.

I don't care WHO you are!
On the left, the right,
You can't justify this ****** night
With words that defend without being contrite.
Have you no shame?
You cast your blame
Around you, as if we're not the same!
We are all Brothers and Sisters in Life.
By God on High, you ALL caused this strife.
And your wicked words are a double-edged knife!
In damning others you **** yourselves,
You're shouting so loud you can't hear the bell
It's tolling, extolling the end of our days!
But you're too steeped in hatred to hear what it says.

My poem is still as shapeless
As it was in the dream last night.
In my sorrow-blurred vision I see just one line:
"Please don't fight".
 Jan 2021 Sekhar
Corrinne Shadow
Poetry
Comes easy
For me.

Soft touch
Not so much.
I clutch

My sleeve,
Defenses weave.
Let me grieve.
 Jan 2021 Sekhar
Crystal Freda
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
 Jan 2021 Sekhar
Corrinne Shadow
I craft my love
From words and dreams,
Forgotten, bygone memories.
And of this life, Real Love knows not.
I am to him a Time Forgot.
He left me picking pieces, changed
He lives in my mind, I lie deranged
Sobbing and writing all over the floor
You left too soon, Love. I need more.
I resurrect you from the dead
And spill my heart to the you in my head.

So I wrote you
But perilously;
For you, in your brilliance,
Unwrite me.
 Jan 2021 Sekhar
Lorraine Colon
What would my reaction be
If love appeared unexpectedly?
Would I be swept off my feet?
Would my glad heart skip a beat?
Or would I cower, then retreat?

Would my feet suddenly grow wings?
Might I utter foolish things,
And babble incessantly
Like a child with eager glee?
Might I become weak or giddy,
Provoking contempt or pity?

Would I think it's just a dream
Where fantasies reign supreme?
Would I find it quite sublime?
Or simply say "Well, it's about time!"
After waiting for love to appear,
Day after day, year after year

Would my face betray some doubt?
(Long ago, hope's flame burned out!)
Yet, passion still burns in my finger tips,
And desire, so fresh upon my lips

What would my reaction be
If love appeared unexpectedly?
I guess I'll just have to wait and see
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