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I want to breathe in the field,
Where the wind is warm,
And drink the air deeply.
It’ll be so awesome!

I want to lie in the grass,
Give up to the sun bliss,
And fall subtly asleep
In the shade of trees like in a kiss.

I want to inbreathe more deeply
The honey odour of flowers.
I want to hug the air
And be in there for hours.

I want to make it true!
I need it for being alive!
I'll hug the air! I’ll kiss the sun
And maybe I will revive!
When the last snowflakes
Gently descend in early spring
I think about the north country
When the dying drafts of cold air
Solemnly kiss me farewell
I think about you
How great is Dylan?
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                           Will We Be…Okay?

After a few Fridays through the Stations of the Cross
I begin to misnumber the Sundays in Lent
Is this the fourth? Or the fifth? Will we be…okay?
This is a season for slipping outside of time

And letting the Pater Nosters and Aves flow
Through the unaccustomed darkness and silence
Anticipating the Triduum of death –
Resurrection seems impossible just now

We make a muddle of Lent and Holy Week
Because we’ve made a muddle of our lives

Will we be…okay?
Lent
Ukraine,
Russia,
Gaza,
Philistine,
Israel,
All parts of,
My heart are,
Bleeding,
A deep pain,
In my heart,
Hurts me badly,
No science can cure me,
I am to suffer,
I am to suffer,
Out of nowhere
a thought of you
will hit my mind,
like a poison dart.
I don't know what
triggers it.
Tonight, I think it's
the cold wind blowing
outside my window.
Or, it could be the
tangerine I just ate.
That sweet juice.
It doesn't last
though.
Gone in a flash.
Too small for a
lifetime together.
And I'm alone with
this bright orange pain,
vowing never to write
about you again.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICWIGqf62Kw
Here is a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books.

It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.

www.thomaswcase.com
She wore a tiffany hat with a bow and six big plumes of red and white,  it had an ultra wide asymmetrical brim that rolled up to one side.  
When it came to dames like this I believe God ran out of humble stock !

She wore pompadour shoes, like she had nothing to lose
and rouge so red it made the cardinals have fainting spells !
Her hair was soaked in henna, elderberry & radish extract,
and I believe her dress was stitched in the boudoir of coco-channel!  

She was a nouveau riche reveling in her new found fame
and everything in her life was right as rain until that fatal day,  
when her hat expanded 10 x its size,  growing past her shoulders
  like a great big beast, of leavened yeast!  

Her hat pins strained from the strain of those great big plumes,  
moaning and groaning from her lithe walk and all that perfume !
Then First World War arrived and suddenly it was unpatriotic
to be concerned with one's appearance !
She was no Rockefeller and didn't own a rupee nor a heller,
so she became a steadfast loyal dame, like dear old Helen Keller .
What happened to that big old hat, with the plumes of red and white ?

She stewed it, brewed it, boiled it down then poured it in a flask,
and yes she drank it slowly,... just in case you thought to ask !
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