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 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Ryan Jakes
The walk to school this morning
was an interesting affair
we talked of life and jellybeans
as laughter filled the air.
Your cape it started flapping
In the sea shore breeze
You shouted you were flying
higher than the tallest trees.
You kicked a hundred pebbles up
to orbit round the moon
and on your head you placed a wig
of finest seaweed green.
Then as we approached the gates
you ran inside to play
your cape gone south
your wig askew
that's how you start your day.
The children all dressed neatly
hair parted, brushed and combed
but you my boy, in cape and wig
the finest of them all.
 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Peter Cullen
Sharing books, sharing stories,
getting the read, each on each other.
Everybody has their tales
that we share, share with each other
Epic yarns, so close to you,
may seem dull to another.
But tales are made,
made to be told.
They bring us close together.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather,
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.

We search in life, to find a way
a way to make it better.
We search and find a way to share
that brings us all together.
A way to shine amongst the grime
with all our words and letters.
Words that carry all we know
are lighter than a feather.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather.
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.
 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Peter Cullen
A love bound by the centuries,
is stirring on the lawn.
Scarlet, Crimson, Red and Green,
awoken with the dawn.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find,
inside me and you..

The sunlight in the morning,
that brings a brand new day.
Is something that we can embrace
if we try to find a way.

The passion in the roses
that brings the beauty through
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

And when the Sun is falling,
lower in the blood red sky.
The thorns you once had in your side,
are like a crown you wear with pride.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

The passion in the roses
and all thats truely true.
That Passion that was always there
is inside me and you.
 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Peter Cullen
The Devil in the ditch and nettles,
a twisted soul that couldn't settle,
on a golden gilded cloud,
could not bring himself to bow.
Lurking in the darkest shadows,
in the corners of your mind.
Pulls a veil over your face,
ties your tongue and leaves you blind.
Feeding on unfiltered light,
lost in the prisms of your eyes.
Hiding in the dark of night,
waiting to be exorcised.
Waiting for a chance to try.
 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Shannon
You are my dandylion
and I wait with stealth of a summer day
for you to stop preening in the field
of high grass and green bottles.
Yes. I wait, stroke you gentle
with the ease of the summer breeze
as you sway and waltz
for the primroses and the cricket.
I watch with willful patience
like the ripening of the wild belladonna.
as you tease with your burst of yellow
for the field mouse and the garden gnome.
Yes. I will wait like summers heat
And when you are done,
And when your pretty
petals
lay
limply
at
your
roots,
I will take you gentle into my summers grasp
and with my summers breathe
blow your beautiful grey afro out unto the world to swallow.
Dandylion, pretty primping boy are you.

Sahn 6/7/2014
Thank you for sharing this with me. It's always an honor. This is simply a perspective of love and the fragility of ego.
I could see right thru the fortress' walls,
I knew what they enclaved
Beaten by an ocean full
of canary-yellow waves
They glistened like the stars reflected
from a moon-lit sky
Scattered like a million diamonds,
it's beauty; mesmerized  
Tho seaweed dark as forest green
did fill the ocean floor
Both translucent, & befuddling  
I could only wish to explore
For I have never seen a castle
rest in a sea of grime  
& with its image now engraved
Forever in my mind!  
& tho it's walls we're callous; thick
I thought it could still work
If only I had persisted  
(Instead, I went berserk...)
But is love not an incendiary?
For those who've gone insane?
& so it's best to resist the urge--
Your heart you must contain!
Edited 2014, 2012

Dedicated to Knox James Alexander
it's strange how certain smells can trigger a very distinct memory. or how at one time, you enjoyed the smell of something, but now it reminds you of someone and it makes your stomach turn. was what sweet is now rotten. but then there are things that, to most, smell rotten, but no. not to me. cigarette smoke, for example, reminds me of my mom. living far apart from her, i miss the scent of camel blue 99s in my hair. oftentimes, i'm tempted to buy a pack just for the reminder, but she'd **** me faster than any cancer could. and anyway, i prefer newports.
if you're uninspired
write about being uninspired

if you're uninspired
open a dictionary
and write about the first word you see

like this
okay
set'tle verb
to put in order;to set to rights; to establish in place;to calm or quiet

calm or quiet
i don't know what that means
i'm neither calm nor quiet
even my body language screams at you
even when i sleep, i'm told i snore.
 Jun 2014 A Gouedard
Travis Dixon
Beyond the farms
of my troubled fears,
a path weaves through
icy slivers of bone,
glossed by Winter’s breath,
who sits enthroned
aside her onyx pond,
reflecting.

“The challenge you face is twofold:
confront me and confront yourself.”

A black jaguar saunters from
her ivory throne, holding
my gaze in the vice
of its assured indifference.

“That which you seek may not be found,
but earned.”

My dagger shakes,
frozen tightly in
my sweating palm.
The lush snow absorbs
the crush of my knees
as the jaguar closes.

“Your unearthed answer, clean of instinct or knowledge,
bids closer reflection.”

At arm’s length,
the jaguar stops.

“Change does not ride the wind,
for the wind has direction.”

The jaguar’s breath
warms my quivering lips,
and I exhale
my unbidden thoughts.
My eyes, still fixed in place,
are not aware
of my rising hand.

“To understand is to forgive,
and to forgive is to love.”

Her words chill the blood
pooling in my outstretched palm,
quivering closer to my host.
The ferric scent tickles its whiskers,
and the jaguar laps up my gift.

“Love, and you'll belong.”
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