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 Aug 2015 Chuck
Nat Lipstadt
~~~
*bathed by breezes of southern gentility,
sun soaped by eye-prickling,
star twinkling glints,
shampooed in delicious waves
of white sno caps,
my crazy wild hair,
conditioned by the foaming bay's riffles

dappled waters transformed into a
Van Gogh glow of
The Sower
sprinkling golden seed
upon fields of summer wheat glorious

my little yellow rubber duckies,
are now blue white snow geese alive,
down from Nova Scotia,
where August is already
emboldened colden,
so they non-stop honk
tho mere passerbys,
everybody is seeking a place in history,
the surety,
that this poem,
by their inclusion herein,
promises posterity

the grass blades wave with
endless swaying applause,
at yet another attempt of poetic tribute,
for once more,
spell bound
by the bounty of the moment,
enslaved happily to the idea
there is no satiation possible
from the earthly satisfaction of this place,
this sheltered isle

the leaves are cappuccino frothy performers,
unison shaking just like a roman legion of stadium fans,
they offer me untold numbers of
likes and reads,
and other candied goodies,
promises endless to root for my winter dream teams,
if their presence is here
prominently included,
until they too
fall silent, grounded,
shed by their rightful owners

every time I think the well is dry,
swept under by a rip tide
of drowning overwhelming gratitude,
for here I come to a place.
a station for repair,
where poems are bandied about,
summer fruits ripe for plucking

sunroom lace, summer curtains,
will hide out here in my absence,
the lace, turns into snowflakes crystalline,
by icy waters and gusts,
that will be both
untrodden and unadmired

for when the poet is clad in the
damask drapes of winter's inevitability,
will close his eyes and
will hide out here,
right here,
in this one of his never ending
prior~poem~prayers homages,
until next year's
can't-come- too-early spring arrives,
sparked by tendrils of meeting markers,
noting that
new poems have been fallow fallen,
winter seeded,
awaiting your
watering and writing,
of the appreciation
of the
simple majesty
of this small corner of the earth
Shelter Island
August 15, 2015

http://www.wsj.com/articles/van-gogh-and-nature-review-a-stunning-connection-1439418582
 Aug 2015 Chuck
GaryFairy
trapped
 Aug 2015 Chuck
GaryFairy
he had arms like a latch
he put her under lock and key
once he closed them, she was trapped
he will never set her free
 Aug 2015 Chuck
GaryFairy
the angel of
the strangest love
wraps her feathery wings around me

the danger of
the strangled dove
delicate wings surround me
 Aug 2015 Chuck
GaryFairy
you are so far away
in my heart, you're held closest
i speak to you every day
in my moments of hopeless

i feel you in my bones
in spirit, there's a closeness
someday i am coming home
you are my final focus
 Jul 2015 Chuck
blythe
Tearing apart inside
All my heartaches, I try to hide;
Every part of me is breaking
The pain - excruciating.

I have no one to run to
No comfort received
Not even a single sympathy was given
None of them ever understood my feelings.

I have given my all
But I was taken for granted;
I have loved with all my heart
But they just tore it into pieces.

Now I wonder,
Can my heart beat again
Or it will just eventually die
Along with the hopes of love and happiness?
 Jun 2015 Chuck
R
Untitled
 Jun 2015 Chuck
R
she needs tenderness and love, why can't you see that?
 Jun 2015 Chuck
Elle
Pieces of Paper
 Jun 2015 Chuck
Elle
Burn them
The letters I gave
You never read them anyway
Burn them
The poems I made
It was all a part of yesterday

You never knew
How much every word meant to me
More than it ever did to you
You never knew
How every response you say
Is silence, to me,
Easily blown by the wind away.

Unread them, unremember,
If possible.
I do not want to remember
How foolish I was to write you
All of my heart
In pieces of paper.
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