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 Apr 2023 Andy Chunn
LS
yellow.
 Apr 2023 Andy Chunn
LS
i found you
when i wasn’t even
searching
a breath of fresh air
after being in deep water
for so long
a running and laughing down an empty hallway
type of love
a love where i don’t say that i’m sad
you just feel it
a love so pure
that nothing needs to be said
it is known.
 Apr 2023 Andy Chunn
slow burn
I tried to write
But all that came out were colors
In the shades of our love
And the hues that formed our history
Saturated my mind so brightly
That I saw it not as a poem
But as more of a painting

The letters didn't form words so much
As they formed a lovely mural
Across the canvas of my heart
Still locked away
Only put on display for you
And eyes that saw themselves as the key
Freed from the loneliness of eternity

There was no punctuation
Only fireworks that were still burning
Weightless in the clarity of the heavens
That found themselves to be
All the illumination we need
To rest comfortably in the spectrum of each other
How would you describe a color you'd never seen before but with your heart
I write of sun and birds
And sky
That's all
I see
I write of people and tears
And joy
That's all
I feel
I write of hot chocolate and tea
And bread
That's all I  taste
I write of shouting and screaming
And laughter
That's all
I hear
I write of what I see
Real or imagined
Baby boy is born
Were you expecting a King
And to bring justice
Was His crown golden
And with diamonds all around
No our thorns near by
Double Haiku for Advent
Let the planets fly
around a sunlight candle
in a solar wind

                Kelly McManus
 Dec 2020 Andy Chunn
Emily Miller
My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.
 Dec 2020 Andy Chunn
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
I leave the door open, awaiting you
as I've done many times before.
Channeling your energy, softening my eyes, releasing all control, easing the curtains back,
banishing time for later.

Come to me, slowly, like a lover; nestle in,    
beneath these silences kept taut, hold my hand
to your lips- translate these muted sentiments.

Give this heart, breath.  Burn away uncertainties, bury my mind in beginnings, transported before     this hoary frost that does not feel.  

I want to speak. Tear away self restraint;
let words shiver in pinks and periwinkle dawn.  
       I am, you are.                                                           Entangle in each inhalation, every airy note resounding as a choir, resoundingly full, sainted.  Words captivated in translucent harmony.      
          
           Ecstasy.              

You return, tickling my tongue
in flecks of first snow;  oh, to taste the poetry,
its lush textures - hypnotic and full, swelling, germinating beneath these stilled hands;

I begin to write,
to shave lines from blank pages,
my blade gliding upon ice
while words escalate,
the velocity propelling
each thought, levitating over fields,
liberated from earth, until I feel
transcendent.  Staring into
the sunlight's promise, my heart      
grows green, again.
How poetry comes some mornings, slowly, painfully at first, then, all is bliss.
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