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Michael Mar 2018
It is absolutely magical, love. The power you have to end my fears with merely a touch.
  Mar 2018 Michael
Elizabeth Squires
he has a penchant
for tinkering with stuff
if given half the chance
he'd tinker with his navel fluff

I've seen him tinkering
with working order stuff
that doesn't need any tinkering
put upon its cuff

some while back he
decided to have a tinker
with a room partition at the hall
and as a result of his
non essential tinkering
down came the east facing wall

tinkering is an occupation
of the tampering ******
unnecessarily touching stuff
with an interfering fiddle
  Mar 2018 Michael
Nat Lipstadt
For Helen
who wrote it first,
who wrote it better,
and in doing so,
makes me see more clearly
the why
~~~~~~~~~

no poem should ever be untitled-
every face needs a name-
every poem needs just
one read for completion

but more than that, it is
a orphan still,
deserving of the due,
the entitlement to be titled,
a parenting of sorts

what was the thought that born it-
what was the emotion that conceived it-
what was the sight that demanded sharing?

this is the age of summary and synthesis,
140 and not one more,
so give direction, enable me to make
snap judgements, with so much on my plate,
we must predigest your concepts,
my multi-tasking slowed to levels unacceptable,
so I can adjudge you,
you worker poet,
before or never reading
after all,
why read anything untitled?

more than this however,

for the few who chew
each morseled vowel,
ken each constant consonant,
celebrate stanzas that halt the breathing
and then,
god bless the whole child,
flaws and all,
they more than anyone deserve
your consideration in return

for the title is the essence spark
of you-
and all the more so,
of what you have chosen to share,
  your essentials honored
  Mar 2018 Michael
Sharon Knipe
I am grieving for a ghost without a grave,
His self is still surviving but his soul I could not save.
My medicine is the memories in my mind,
They weigh me down with worries, what ifs and whys.

Awhile after he left I hadn’t the need to fall nervous of the night,
Before it’s coldness cruelly cut my courage like a knife.
Gentle gravity, I grasped hold for anything he gave,
But he lacked the love, leaving me only with his lusting lave.

Yes, I know I should’ve walked into a colour without a shade,
This abuse approached me like abstract art arrayed.
Obviously these stars in the night will always outlive me and wring me out to die,
But I’m not going to let them get to me, no not this time.
nonexistent
Michael Mar 2018
These catacombs of rumination,
these webs of paranoia.
Traverse this lair of irrationality,
where the light is without glow.

I've lent a hand to catastrophe.
I am not without fault.
Though, surely I do not deserve
a tomb buried in thought.
Michael Mar 2018
There is nothing like idle time
to atune the mind to the flesh.

There is nothing like silence
to hear your mortal breaths.

There is nothing like pondering
to feed the clock your thoughts.
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