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 Aug 2017
Cné
Pristine dreams of gossamer
in fantasies of white
This is what i hope will guide
my slumber on this night.

Rainbows in a sky of blue
with clouds of grey beyond,
Ripples lapping lilypads,
upon a golden pond,

Butterflies and hummingbirds
in acrobatic arcs,
Shade in grass beneath a tree
with choruses from larks,

A cool breeze on a summer's day,
my love within my arms,
Clouds that block the blazing sun,
a coyish smile that charms,

Stimulants for senses
in a countless, vast array,
Gratitude for blessings
i enjoy most every day,

All these things and more i ask
when sleep mine eyes doth close,
But most of all, a peace within,
and love that always grows.
 Aug 2017
Francie Lynch
I appear unexpectedly,
For no apparent reason;
And I begin a conversation
You've waited for.
You're reticent when I speak,
When I sit in a familiar chair
In a room we both know;
Where I don't belong.

I've no control over my visits,
No more than yours.
Others are peripherally present,
With marbled voices.

Your focus is me,
Wondering why I'm there.
Do I move to your blind spot, occasionally?
I am invasive and untoward.
I am not plasma, a phantasm or apparition.
I emerge from the mist to your surprise.
     What are you doing here?
I ask the same when you visit,
Yet I love to see you, relaxed, intwined.
You treat me as an old friend
With inquiries and interest.

I have so much to confess to you,
But you're disinterested in past failures.
Someone interrupts us,
You leave,
Through the same ethereal.

If you called to say you were coming
For a visit,
I'd get no sleep.
 Jul 2017
Sjr1000
It seems so plain to see
Sweeps us along
Leaves us behind
Every one of us,
even
You and me.

Our daily lives
The alarm clock at five a.m.
screaming our name again and again  
"Get up"

The infant
every dream we take,
"I need you mommydaddy too"

Monuments to what we choose
We know they come, and go.

Insurmountable problems
in the end
are
all
Time limited

We've been there
We know

Teenage angst, forever,
Childhood  puberty
Adulthood  old age

Time is god
it calls the shots
tells us
What is and What is not

Galaxies collide
all over the place
Big bangs bust
and must expand
Dark matter everywhere
But
Time it tells them
all their tales

Time is god
god is time
It seems so plain to see.
 Jul 2017
Paul Jones
My hand is in yours.     As you lead the way
whilst I watch our backs,     we'll escape this maze.
23:15 - 06/07/17
State of mind: calm; tired.

Thoughts: from dreams - of being stuck in a maze. As soon as you grabbed my hand, we both knew the way out. As you focused on where we needed to go, I remembered where we had been.

Questions: none.

Listening to: Metallica - Nothing Else Matters
 Jun 2017
ryn
The last autumn leaf had fallen.
A gust had taken it off its perch
and sent it earthbound.
It relished its slowed descent
only to be cradled by the ***** of the ground.

Then winter had been upon us.
Leaving us cold, desolate and empty.
Loneliness wielded a reckless brush
and had painted the backdrop
of our minds with vast whiteness
accentuated by the greys of uncertainty.

The leaf froze and crumbled to dust.
Just as we would have if not for
the mantra of hope.
Of which,
dreams might again spring forth.
Engulfing and taking us home.

We'd journey through scented spring -
soaking up the amber of days
and the fragrance of flowered fields.
We'd run our fingers over the tops of tall
dew-peppered grass.

We sing the same chorus
as we turn our heads towards
the suns of summer.
A haven where we believe all is hale
and the fires in our hearts
will once again be rekindled.
 Jun 2017
Mary-Eliz
I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.

You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.

I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,

then I awake

knowing…

without words
my mind whispers

it’s time

I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.

Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.

I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you

tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult

realizing
we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you

then

I feel your spirit leave…

for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.

A gift rare and precious –

as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.
     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~        

"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."  
Rabinadrath Tagore
We lost our son to a brain tumor. He fought bravely and determinedly for seven years, enduring two surgeries, radiation, Gamma knife "surgery", chemotherapy and clinical trials. He never lost his sunny smile or determination. He only let go when he knew it was time, slipping into unconsciousness shortly after his two brothers (his best friends) arrived to say goodbye. He remained in that suspended state for two days. On the third day the four of us gathered for dinner and shared thoughts about him and our life with him. We cried, we laughed, we shared memories. Later that night he let go. I will always believe, being the caring and generous person he was, that he heard us talking and knew that, as hard as it would be, we would be okay.
 Jun 2017
Pagan Paul
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The Virginal one is a Maiden fair,
a girl adorned with long blonde hair.
Bold and brash, yet cautious and shy,
her dreams lift up and start to fly.

Raven hair falls in delicate tresses,
on the Mother of children Nature blesses.
Calm and firm, yet open and sure,
her dreams fulfilled are played out pure.

Cold and damp attack the bones,
trying to agitate the black haired Crone.
Old and steady, yet clever and wise,
her dreams forever light up the skies.

Walking through woods, warm and shady,
barefoot, confident, the Forest Lady.
She has her dreams and always will,
until the day her heart stands still.

© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)
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Lord of Green series, poem 11
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 May 2017
Alex McQuate
Sometimes funny,
Sometimes terrifying,
Sometimes mysterious,
Something nice.

Something remembered,
Something forgotten,
Something changed,
Something repeated.

Wake up.
Been listening to some of Alan Watt's lectures on dreams.
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques .  After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .  

In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition .  To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions .  I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration .  I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery .

Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .  

Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid .  Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge, of the new world freeway .
Zoomorphic zoolatry
 Apr 2017
ryn
.
                    Time,
                    space
           ­         and everything in between.

                    Heartaches,
                    tea­rs
                    and secrets that don't come clean.

                    Gambols,
                    laughter­
                    and smiles beaming keen.

                    Deep thoughts,
                    aloneness
                    and the dark places we've been.

                    Handholding,
                    carel­ess hugs
                    and ready shoulders to lean.

                    Reckless stabs,
                    impulsive jabs
                    and caustic words we don't mean.

                    Contentment,
                    count­ing blessings
                    and hope we can glean.

                    You,
                    me
        ­            and everything in between.


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