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 Oct 2014 Persephone
Megan Grace
and so we dress like the wind and
speak like the rain.
from the back of my old journal
---------------------------------------------------------
*"I know enough to know I don't know enough."
I blinked and looked at the floor.
Were the rumors true?
What could this mean?

My nerves were oddly settled as he handed me my tea.
This tea had a fragrance so familiar, yet so.. exotic.
I couldn't quite place it... The steam rising from it was.. hypnotic.

"What do you know, Lazarus?"
I asked after a moment of silence.

"This child is a key, of sorts. He knows yet not of his power.
Some figure him to be the fountain of youth incarnate.
Others wish for him to be a clairvoyant seer, mailable unto their ends.
I'm not certain, but I've had dreams of this child since I was but a boy."

Lazarus paused and ran his fingers through his beard.
He sighed an unsettled sigh, heavy with burden.

"We set out tomorrow to find his family.
We must ensure that he fulfills his destiny,
whatever that may be.
We must be careful, though.
There is sure to be a terrible darkness seeking this child as well."
 Oct 2014 Persephone
Helen
He said*
it's just like bees
that make the honey
a conversation between my husband and I, he can't understand why all us poets are not rolling in wealth... I love him so much :)
Your hair was then
an ocean

Your feet
nimble emotion

Your skin
rice bran gold!

Now you’re as old

as undiminished sunrise

in my eyes.
In the circular lily pond--
desolate, surrounded by lush growth of
tall, entangled ***** pine plants
spewing amorous scent
in to the humid tropical air
from musky flowers, golden yellow.
hunted by swarms of bees,
                                        --  you step in.
Peeling off  your clothes to the last bit,
with a jubilance freedom bestows
you spring down, delve deep
to take bathe, knowing, I the owl
that has an eye on you always
keep watching you from the other end
in a stunned surprise to see you ****
for the first time, after long last!

In a fix you are now about my presence
when  celebrating the freedom
of a village belle, that comes rarely
on such occasions, away from all eyes that pry-

You swim a few laps, my water nymph
on your back you glide, setting the water aflame
now, you pretend to see me all of a sudden,
then, swim towards me as if your secret plan, did succeed,
I am caught in your net of love, but your ploy is different,
plead not to look at you as you swim naked,
a wily love cat, you are,  that knows her alley well.

If only, I were a water lily,I'd pretend to be your waist band
made of the stem, supple soft; the petals would jealously conceal
the secrets of your lotus, while circling the slender waist  tenderly.
In a distant land where still coy maidens and discreet lovers exist
In the bag of death he lay,
all zipped up, here to stay.

Upon his toe, there hangs a tag,
Dead on Arrival, lies on the slab.

Eyes closed shut, red everywhere.
Taken away,  nobody cares.

His pain is gone, he cries no more.
Silence is simple, down to the core.

Shot in the chest, wouldn't you know?
Another victim is gone named John Doe.
About the senseless killings on our city streets around the nation.   Stop the violence.
Here the autumn makes
prettiest place for me
a quaint placid lake
with wind’s lullaby!

A cloud mirrored hush
thicket’s lone butterfly
spell stricken grass
in awe of the sky!

This sight the autumn makes
seems so wispy to my feel
like flying pollen flakes
catching dreams by the jhil!

The feathered bloomy light
on this day by the lake
soon would melt from my sight
leaving trail as an ache!
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