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 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
Sjr1000
All of life,
everything we shall ever know
is found within the gardens

Pulling weeds and the cover crop
*** them under or pulling them up
I never remember

The soil crumbling between my fingers
Perfect for planting
All is hope and promises

The gardens are a cycle
You've have to add excrement to begin again

The seeds are sewn, the starts transplanted
Water slightly pooled, dripping down into
the rich dark soil
A red worm winds its way down
Life begins again
Vulnerable

The  light of the sun, so warming
Cosmic love radiated our way
Life is an urge, it finds its way

The lettuce, the tomatoes, the zucchini, the artichoke, the cauliflower, the raspberries,
a blue berry or two
Medicinal herbs, oregano, cilantro, too

Fruitful youth
A flower is a plant with a hardon
The juices running right down my face
Taste
Nourishment

It feels like total summer forever
But football and school come every September

The days get shorter
The plants turn yellow and brown
Outgrow themselves
Wither and die

Purgatory lives,
along come the cover crops and weeds
In winter all just try to survive

The garden know its limits
It knows what being is all about
All of life, everything we shall ever know
Is found within the gardens.
Inspired by an essay read about the garden on the TV series, Orange is the New Black
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
harlon rivers
hours drip slowly
onto a taunting empty page
the soul’s depictions brushed simply

a palette of whispered words
dry as if it were thoughts painted
onto a tightly stretched canvas

it's been said so many times before
                   similes,...
     form clots at the tip of the quill
                    words,...
finally surrendering to gravity’s flow
as the ink scribes the paltry ruminations;
flooding the same stifled notions
another way into another moment

metaphorical sleights of hand
incarnate onto the absolving
       sheet of parchment;
traces of past now’s ensconced
       in considered words

        miles of silent reverie,
                     spun,...
        like a spider reprocessing,
        carefully savoring
        each fine silk thread of web,

        spinning the womb of time...

© H.A.  Rivers 2012 … All Rights Reserved
... dedicated to all lonely, wayfaring word whisperers,
lost within the silent confines of a bared soul
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
Blame
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
.

•point                                   
our fing-                                 
ers to the                                 
nearest a-                                 
vailable s-                                 
uckers• to                                 
take respo-                                 
nsibility  a-                                 
nd be  acco-                                 
untable....no                                 
one really bothers•we                  
do it so well unlike any other•al-
     most a skill that never gets duller•**** hits
the fan, we all look for someone to blame•it's a
hapless situation when we partake in such a ga-
  me•it's become a norm that simply never ends •
it's a nasty situation that makes enemies out of f-
riends•i look at myself and realise that i am no
   different•for i too, have my finger pointed si-
   lent•i too, have erred...warranting reproach
•milling over transgressions my words
dare not broach•sigh...why is it so
that such a habit we can never
sever•think no further...let's
just blame it on......................



human nature•

.
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
Hermit
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I gather...
I analyse...
I stow away all that I've learnt.

Because when the wind would blow
and the earth wouldn't understand.
When the world would tremble,
shaken by man's ruthless hand.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I listen...
I keep...
I stockpile in the shadows.

Because in my blood exists grudge...
And my bones, weary from despair.
My skin screams exhaustion
and my body feigns to care.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I overthink...
I hide...
I hoard all my thoughts.*

Because the walls have ears
and these pages bear eyes.
What my heart truly knows...
Is that your mouth tells only lies.
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
Garb
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
I am a garb.
An outfit.

I am now in season.
And in trend.
I am well loved.
Well received.

But fads pass...
What used to be the rage
will eventually fade.

What used to be sought after
will inadvertently be shelved.
And forgotten.

So wear me now.
Fill me full.
As you grow,
my sleeves would shorten.
And seams would burst.

Wear me now.
For I am your garb.
And I still fit.
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
Neglect
 Aug 2016 Ami Shae
ryn
Like the tiniest of pebbles,
ignored by the cool fingers of the laughing brook.

Like the obscure cave...
So inaccessible that it never sees the light of day.

Like the move easily dismissed.
When the queen overshadowed the rook.

Like the kite that spiralled downward.
When its string snapped and wind refused to play.

Like the pothole that tripped,
simply because indifferent feet would only overlook.

Like an idea that never sees fruition,
when open minds are scarce and clenched fists scream nay.

Like hidden reasons that remains unseen.
When we judge by the actions we conveniently mistook.

Like consequential words whispered under my breath.
They bear much weight...
But I'm too afraid to say.
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