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 Nov 2016 Smit
Colten Sorrells
When she found me I was in hell
My body was an empty shell
Was just about to give up hope
and then she tossed me down a rope

I didn't even have to climb
I finally emerged to find
The kindest soul I've ever met
whose kindness I would not forget

She calmed my demons, healed my heart,
and dried up all my tears
Gave me the strength to fight again
and helped me face my fears

And for all this she did for me
asked nothing in retrun
She followed me into the fire
and I just let her burn

She built me up from nothing
as she withered up and died
She gave up everything for me
And ill never know why

She pulled me from the pits of hell
and seen that I'd be well
But by that time she lost all hope
I didn't toss her down a rope

I guess that all the seeds you sow
you have to one day reap
When she took all those sleeping pills
she really meant to sleep
 Nov 2016 Smit
Colten Sorrells
.
.
.
.


I know you really hate me right now
and we haven't spoke for awhile, but
wherever you are right now
I can feel you fading away
and I tried to text you, but
every time I do
I'm completely
overcome by this
vague sense of terror
tightening my airways just enough
to make me really take notice
and making my heart pound
all the way in my throat
so I am powerless to reach you
but whatever you're doing
with your Saturday night
I just really hope you're safe
I never meant
for things
to turn out
this way
 Nov 2016 Smit
Jeff Stier
The Poet
 Nov 2016 Smit
Jeff Stier
She captures autumn
in a jar
reads the moon's straying
through leaf and branch

Always in love
with love
and always reeling
from the loss

What wave tossed this refugee
ashore?
What alignment
of stars and planets
of uncountable galaxies
brought this woman
to this world and not another?

A simple truth will tell.
The moon at high tide
hides beneath her skirts.
A slight disturbance
in the silken fabric
of space and time
and all is lost
all is born.

I hold my hands out
palms up
in prayer and thanks
every day
to mark the blessing
to place a peg
in the whole.

Given to all
denied to none
and mysterious to most

Life pours out of
a hole in the sea
leaves nothing
and everything
to chance.

This blessed world.
#h
 Nov 2016 Smit
SE Reimer
~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss.  whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after.  yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning.  (Isaiah 61:3)    

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope!  hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve
 Nov 2016 Smit
a m a n d a
i'm not sure what's going on.
i think i am always
deeply in my own mind
or in yours
trying to figure you out,
all of you.

and there is nowhere else
for my awareness to go,
it's just there,
opened,
listening,
all the time.

but who is
listening to me?
 Nov 2016 Smit
Fish The Pig
You say
"what's the point?"
but I sharpen my point
lead dust falling from my desk
all I can think is that
words
are just one letter away    from      swords
yet they fight very different battles
and make the point just the same
words
are just one letter away    from     swords
yet one outgrew the other in the time
and can't even come close to rhyme
words
are just one letter away    from      swords
sometimes it feels they can hurt just the same
and you think about the sword when words drive you insane
ones the weapon of the lover
the other of the fighter
both are history
both are novelties
severity of each can be overwhelming
each is feeling shelling
inventions equal only not in form
you wouldn't think
they'd be the same
but words
are just one letter away    from      swords
 Nov 2016 Smit
Mae
to be saved?
 Nov 2016 Smit
Mae
is Prince Charming really out there
or am I waiting for no one
am I a damsel in distress
or just looking for reasons
not to save myself
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