In fair Verona where Will set the scene
Belle Fortune moves the markers up and down.
Two households both alike in dignity
Fiercely compete for fear of losing ground.

When Juliet saw Romeo at the dance
Events were set in motion that, perchance,
Would see fair Juliet as our Romeo’s bride
but ultimately result in her suicide.

With Tybalt and Mercutio both dead,
And Capulet and Montague estranged.
Young Paris sought fair Juliet to wed
not knowing of her loss of maiden-head.

Romeo was banished for his crime,
a sin for which a peasant would have died
Their two households, joined because they wed,
remained divided by their foolish pride.

Summer’s fierce heat shimmered in the air,
oppressive in the absence of a breeze.
With Friar Lawrence’s help, Romeo’s girl played dead,
as if struck down by some unknown disease


Romeo , in Mantua, heard that his Juliet
Lay dead amongst the sleeping Capulets.
A draught of deadly poison he obtained
So they might sleep together once again.

When Romeo met Paris at her tomb,
Words led to swordplay, leaving Paris dead.
Would not the world have been a better place
if Romeo had kept it sheathed instead?

Unshriven, Romeo drank the poison down-
the only son of Montague now dead.
Perchance just then fair Juliet revives
Bereaved, she took his Dirk to bed instead.

Authorities, arriving at the scene,
could only mourn a brace of kinsmen lost.
Capulet and Montague were reconciled
Their amity bought at a fearful cost.

Always amazed in eerie incantation,
our love captured in time,
frozen on still image;
black and white, translucent,
I fill in for lacking colors.

Embracing on town boulevard,
birds fluttering on autumn sky
place where we met in afternoon-lit shops,
the old cafe were we danced
brimming with wanderlust souls.

Pretentious foliage with a warming hug,
dancing orange-blue flowers on cream dress,
dangling jewelry: rings, golden bracelets,
red lip imprint left on dreaming face,
intertwined lives, encompassing forever.

Our memories play like old movies,
your clean perfume, dropping rivulets,
past left behind, dirt on shadows,
anything I would do to go back
where gentle whispers summon smiles.

I’m back, a ghost town years later
from a love that never was,
desperately searching through places,
the ones we explored together,
I mutter your name to utter strangers-

Voice braking, quivering frown,
frustration, on descent,
a numbness with no light,
silence, for no one has seen you since,
this old photograph, the only witness left.

Stan is  ninety two on  this date    
still waiting at Heaven’s gate
where his Love
went on before him.

Some day soon
he will join June
Where the light
will never dim.

Time has past since
he hugged her last
now, the pain
unreal at times.

He knows she lives
where God’s Love gives
us Peace and
love so sublime.

And now….

His mission fulfilled
In what God willed
the race will end
never more to roam.

He made the right choice
The Angels rejoice
God’s forever Love with June
Stan will be going home.

Never more to roam.

(C) 06-14-2020
John L Stevens
Soon to be 92

Remember brother we didn't play with toys
we were two little toy soldiers
on two sides of the cold war
crawling on elbows and knees
in the backyard with a blackberry tree
firing at each other with invisible guns
our mouths echoing the rat-tat of bullets
and it was not blood that soaked us
but drops of heavily falling rains
upon soil long parched by the heat
exuding smell of love all over the wind
when the two would roll over each other
escaping from a war with no real enemies
pleading i'm wounded, don't shoot me.

We don't play wars any more brother
the cold war is long over
and we stopped being not enemies.

This is for the three A.M writers,
The four A.M coffee drinkers,
because sleep isn’t useful at this point.
This is for the daughter that lost her mother
at age twelve and never stopped smiling.


This is for the boy that knows that the
closet will only be kind to him
for a little while longer
but can’t bring himself to leave quite yet,


I see you.


I see the smile fade for just a second,
the small tear run down your cheek.
I see how quickly you wipe it away,
scanning the room to make sure no one saw,
but I did.

This is for the social smokers,
and the casual drinkers and
the avid vapors that think that cotton candy
flavored juices won’t give you cancer…
I see you.


I see you post drag, look at the cigarette
like it's the first time one has ever been in your hand.
I see the moment you realize you want
your lungs to give out. I see you raise it back to your lips.


I see you sip from a coffee cup at a football game,
but oh don’t you wish it was coffee,
but instead coffee brandy burns your throat
as you try to forget all the bad things he did to you.


I see you.


I see you wince at the final sip, not only because
you took too much to swallow, but because
the pain made you realize what you have
let him turn you into.


This is for the class clowns.
The boy that tries so hard to make other
people laugh because he
can’t remember the last time
he actually smiled, and if he
can make other people happy for just a second,
one day maybe he’ll be happy too.


I see you.


I see you after landing the punchline,
analyzing the classroom,
and when the roar of laughter fades
so doe’s smile that never quite reached
your eyes.


This is for the the invisible.
The “unmemorable” face in the crowd.
The people in public with their face in a book,


I see you.


I see you watch quietly in the background.
Listening to everything around you,
never brave enough to speak up.


I see you.


This is for all of the people that at one point
in their life thought no one was watching.
That no one ever cared enough to see you.


I see you.

art is a thing
that takes the now
takes the real

and makes it
u n r e a l
supa r e a l
surreal

\undone\

n u p s k c a b

reflected | back

better.

deeper.

and l i f t e d
      h
         i
           g
             h
                e
                  r.

i'd be lying to you
if i told you
i don't think of you
more often than not
that very thought
blocks my view
if i got caught
you're every thought
that i do
and every thought
i come across
is a thought of you

Never trust the establishment
They do not exist for our benefit
For they believe  that we exist
For their convenience
Their only purpose is self-perpetuation
And they think that our only function
Is to accommodate that purpose
Whereas our true cause should be
To get rid of the *******

                                        By Phil Roberts