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 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Connor
Woe is a horned creature
      Color/blue (soft)
      Youth of savage taste
        
Piano is envious for magic
(The noise is disquiet)
    
    Angel wise and
    a whisper

Mother cleaned up her
violent act on stage (a highwire)
    The temple forever stained with
     birth
    
          Garden of age/
          
       A river's foolish plea with the moon,
        
People wrapped in ivy dance holily
   With their April patterns in a truly
    Dionysian scene
    
         I am there (a poet)
             day belonging to death
as death is owed to
life

   I feel balanced in this state
   (on the edge of the river)
  
       we are joined by harmonies from the Valley,
         they can be heard from above
           flowing
           downward
           featherlike
           unafraid
          
           (a warmth/a womb)

II

   The sea is still alone
   (chasm of black)

Thinkers chase its waves &
Our eyelids disappear like marble
into empty flies
  released from a tropic fantasy
  
    The inevitable scream, humid &
     Covered in ash (volcanic)

III

Illness rejuvenates the dream/
questions remain questions

   An elephantine flowerbridal looms/

Smoke erases the memory stained in each ring of each pine,
          burdens relieved from the Antlers of
ancient death
         (smoke, tide, branches crackle in a flame, peace is envisioned here, I love you)
         Narrow ceilings attempt to re
         create
The sky/      
Paint flaking off pathetically (the palace)
darling ember washed away with simple time

    (Where has our capability for survival gone?)
    
         mapmakers and children watch their hair fall into a promising wishwell
    ...kept secret and sacred
    
         those who see the bottom of the well are branded with eternal laughter!

IV

? Healers hand
       (You've arrive
       d
       at the entra
       nce you once saw asleep)
      
                 The conquest for simplicity is finally realized as no conquest at all
                     You're in love again,
                    
(Yellow love)
!
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Mary-Eliz
The slow autumn presses
at the window,
as geese give a melancholy voice
to leaving
their dark v-shape
splitting a cloudless sky

the sun spreads
a quiet space
of tangerine orange
and rosy pink
as it slips below the horizon

when darkness closes in,
stars shiver
in the distance
ghosts perhaps since
some have died

the moon’s shimmer follows
the river’s winding path
until
complacent river in lament
mingles with powerful sea

ending and beginning
combined in poignant
harmony
Just a bit out of season! :-)
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Mary-Eliz
Autumn
Morning
Rose and marigold sunrise
breaks through,
an exotic beauty of the East
veiled, bejeweled, captivating
she renders her enticing dance
as trees shower saffron and russet leaves
petals strewn upon her stage

Autumn
   Afternoon
No butterflies appear
no hummingbirds
the late day sun spreads
a golden blanket
for aster, rose, and dahlia
its folds
the shadows soft and
dreamlike

Autumn
the world slows
around me

Summer blossoms nod
drifting off to sleep
while the breeze invites
a crimson leaf
to dance
one last dance

Autumn
I sit alone in my garden
as if holding
the hand
of a dying friend
First written ?? Revised 04/24/17
Reminded by Stephanie Stoychevska's
"A lullaby to my roses"
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
wordvango
as I
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
wordvango
with almost nothing left to delve deep into
tonight
not much of  a quest to seek and search for left
I find myself writing this a lesson to all you
young fools
don't do as I said or what I did
only a fool shows his heart
bare
as I
do
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Rachel Ace
You look like a light-colored satin
Stars f
          a
            l
              l on your caramel hair
Your laureate crown is permanent

You walk fast as a local feline
L'Empereur far from his throne
You look disoriented
You look tired

It's nightfalling
Resolution parts
The moon shines
Gold minds

Lace L'étoile
Jeune ace
Shiny sleeves

I go through a mirror
You're sitting in there
I hide carefully
Not to be alert
I have found myself again
Dreaming of you inside
The reflection of your mirror

At night my opal
                           sleeves are made of satin.

   - Codelandandmore// 6:00 PM ©
Modern poem
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
wordvango
I am the wind
the snow flurries the cold
the heat of the sun burning
a lump of coal
keeping you warm
I am all
but your thoughts
yearning
You collect your tears in a bell jar
for the day you run dry
you roll your memories over until they are smooth
like pie dough
you grapple with the inevitable
often afraid to move
so as not to awaken death
but listen to me, my friend
you have conquered life to reach this point
you have bathed in the sanctity of passion
and conjured imaginary places
while in the bliss of the finest music
you have beamed like the Sun
at the instant of creating new life
and turned numb with agony at the moment
of losing one so close
you have managed to elude the stones thrown your way
and graciously recover from the throws of failure
you have survived
do not fear or run from your impending leave
your mark is of tremendous value and expanse
to human kind
your love has healed and brought joy
your creations are you
and will continue to thrive in your name

embrace these days
be cleansed in your life's history
revel in your time
the title is a line from Bladerunner that I will never forget
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