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 Nov 2016 Carolyne McNabb
Polar
Like a dandelion seed

you have flown from my reach

When you used to be so near.

The night calls out to you

With siren delights

Guiding you

with illusions of bright shining lights.

Like Michaelangelo's barefooted baby Jesus

I see you run toward a future

Headed for potential disaster

And like the angels

I want to shadow you

To steer you away.

Yesterday seems far away

With sadness I see

Time

Has made you step away

From me.
Into my ears.
Out of my mouth.
Listening.
Telling.


Into my eyes.
Inside my mind.
Seeing.
Keeping.


In my hands.
Under my feet
Taking.
Crushing.


Locked faces.
Open scars.
People.
Hurting.


Things they do
Thing I do
Remembering
Fooling


I know them.
I can use them.
Those.
***** Little Secrets.
.
.
.



*she comes to me on a September's breeze
and dries up the August air
with shorter days and longer nights

she tempts me to sleep in, and stay in
with December mornings
and the occasional storm

then she gets me drunk on animal fats
and lures me out into the November rain
with red skies and talk of Indian summers
 Sep 2016 Carolyne McNabb
M Padin
A lone, brooding shadow in blighted May,
He lifts his noble head against the day.

About which unkempt hair tumbles in curls.
(The large unblinking eyes glisten as pearls.)

In pastures bold and free, untouched by hands—
Here the dark horse, immovable, stands.
(c) 2016. All rights reserved.
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