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A congenial aura
elated trekking
Intoning treasured verse
attention beckoning
Diligence provided
continual checking

Confirming with gauges
complying with code
Merged flawlessly towards
turnpike- cautious mode
Along breezed a rig
with a copious load

Heedless of rush hour
he rumbled on by
Remained in his route
to switch didn't try
Hurled on the brakes
swerved- she let out a cry

The fish tail and slide
left black in its track
Furled over in excess
too dazed for fact
Copper tang on lips
beginning to act

Sinew taut
cerebral flailing
Knuckles clenched
composure failing
Ticker raging
pent up wailing

Red and blue strobes
redundant sound
Screeching and wrenching
the pros abound
Flame vaulting acrid scent
soot around

One outstretched mitt
cloudy hood right behind
Echoing directives
"you will be fine"
Such screaming
not even sure if it's mine

Hours? Minutes?
seconds ticking away
WHOOOMF!!!
explosion that seized it today
Claimed these lives
on the earth they did lay

What's happening?
ascending brilliant light
Are eyes sealed exposed
perceiving what's right?
Sense soaring heavenward
a tranquil flight

Radiance entices
no need to resist
While buoyant wafting
in a cool opaque mist
At last home free
beseeching those that I missed
Brushed against His Grace
her brows lightly been kissed
That small man who always sang
That small man who danced in my head
That small man with youth
Undid his shoelaces
And broke all the barracks of the festival
Suddenly everything collapsed
And in the silence of the festival
In the ruin of the festival
I heard your happy voice
Your voice so torn and fragile
Innocent and desolate
Came from afar and called me
And I put my hands on my chest
where they trembled ******
Seven broken pieces of mirror
with your twinkling smile
First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13
 Sep 2013 Bernadette Rivera
Jana
This is a letter to you
we were young
you were in love
I was naive
I still wish you the best.



This is a letter to you
You are nothing but
a fictional character
in a book -
scripted
and made up.
My mind
has played tricks
with my heart.
Although
I've learned my lesson
I was infatuated -
I still am.



This is a letter to you
I don't want to forget -
but I can already feel
the fading.
I once heard that
someday, someone
is going to look at you
with a light in their eyes
you've never seen.
They'll look at you
like you're everything
they've been looking for
their entire lives.
So please tell me
please let me know
what happened.
You're probably
already beginning
to forget
the insignificant moments
that will continue
to haunt me.



This is a letter to you
Time is a humorous
and fearful thing.
I suppose
history does repeat itself
in ways I didn't think
would occur.
Just for the record
I still have hope.
I guess I'll always
find myself standing
at your door again.
It was at the cottage, by the marsh,
Where the husband slipped through the threshold.
The Bass boots left marks of silt and clay on the worn wooden floor.
He dropped the shovel on the floor as well.
And globs of mud, sawgrass and marsh water seeped in the cracks, forever to stay there,
As a silent reminder.
He sat down at the dinner table, a table for two,
With only one chair.
The coo-coo clock chimed above his head,
It was dinner time, where was dinner?
His thick gruff hands made fists and smashed the table top,
Breaking the maple top in two, which now made it a table for one.
He just needs sleep, his temper was getting to him.
As the husband climb up the stairs to the spacious bed,
And laid his head upon the pillow, he fell asleep.
But if you follow the muddy tracks down the stairs, through the kitchen, out the door, into the rain,
to the marsh, you will see a pile of mud that looks misplaced.
The sludge will begin to shift and slide away to reveal a hauntingly beautiful women.
She will rise, and walk through the marsh, in the rain, to the door, through the kitchen and up the stairs to see her husband in a fitful sleep.
And as any good wife would do,
She'll kiss him and lay next to him to ease whatever could be on his mind at this hour.
Behind veiled minds, shapes vex open and shut in delicate sway;
moving to meticulous harmony, often misplacing understanding,
narrowly, missing margins of discontent.

Moments lost in struggles of stretch and pull weakens fragile equilibrium
compounding into reasons of no logic or consequence, bewildered
by the total sum of US.

Your ache acknowledged, by a body that longs to burn fires, to touch,
again and again, over and over until skin bursts forth into melodramatic flames,
coveting thoughts of our bodies getting it on to its entirety.

Wearisome desires of want, exhaust beyond measures of frustration,
running from gentle sways of to and fro' oft over-whelms 'dizzy and fraying release me'

My love - lend your heart to sacred whispers lest we  are swallowed by reason of no logic,
leaving us  dismayed, apt to vulnerability, resulting in suffocated flames.

Upon our human form, allow our burn in aches and longing - souls know of no boundaries
except the eternal, totality completion of we.

I ache for you!
Before we can fathom life itself we must
Let go of the things we cling to.
All of us rely too heavily on
Computers and cells and
Kites that always have wind.

Others understand that
Unless forced we cannot survive without
Technology—tomorrow is in the outstretched hands of today.
Why cant I sleep - I crave the rest of a body refreshed
My mind wont stop "tick tick" like an tightly wound clock
My thoughts keep wondering - random places where I've been
Random places - I have not yet seen
My punishment, over active thoughts
When I should be asleep
Is it only me who walks this night or shouts in my head turn out the light
Just let me sleep
In the great rift,
where everything goes adrift.
I feel the pressure on my shoulder,
I believe that I just overheard her.
Many things will come,
be sure that there is some.
Come all ye may,
and be ready to stay.
The rift in time is grand,
may you follow his hand.
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