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 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
Found out today
my imagination
can fly
now I do not mean me
I have not grown wings
well not till the day I die
just my mind can fly
now I worry
it might just fly off
on it's own
to where
nobody knows

but still
found out today
I can fly
hope I never fall
for that will break bones
but it so nice up here
I
can see all the coast
Just found today.
 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
I wonder
as I sit here at home
will you miss me
when I am gone
returned to dust
and still in a world on my own
for I think I will miss all of you
as I now live here
in a world of my own
is that good
I wonder.

I know now
wonder
you all give more than you should
but then I know
the wonder that is my own.
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
We made our bed in the spring green grass
Like two deer, innocent, when they sleep,
Many years have passed, love has fled,
And the gentle forest does have left.
 Dec 2013
Àŧùl
Imagine yourself with me in the mountains,
Imagine peaceful tranquility away from plains,
Imagine nights full of love and forget pains.

We travel through the mountainous terrain,
We see just colder snow everywhere & no rain,
We go through snow mounted on our horse.

Our horse starts panting as it smells water,
Our wounds tingle with pain & ask for rest too,
Our stomachs demand food too as it seems.

Your elegant eyes see a dark house close-by,
Your now wearying voice tells me to stop over,
Your royal desire is an order for me to obey.

I also agree as we must treat our injuries,
I dismount the horse first to experience pain,
I do offer a hand to you for dismounting.

You are here in this ancient wooden house,
You rest upon the ancient creaky barrel chair,
You look at me with the cute eyes of yours.

I ask you if you needed something soothing,
I am told by you to come and stay by your side,
I come while sensing this cold bothering us.

Your voice quivered from the terrible cold,
Your hands do crave for fresh air of the cabin,
Your mind tells you to remove your gloves.

I looked at you with my questioning eyes,
I am asked by you regarding the same thing,
I agree with you & remove my gloves too.

You come & hold my hands - feel the heat,
You have your hands as frigid as snow & ice,
You sigh with a smile as you feel relieved.

This smile meant much more than relief,
This meant that you want bit more warmth,
This makes me smile back at you kindly.

Imagine us admiring each other happily,
Imagine listening to your own voice inside,
Imagine the snow dust pouring outside...
The cold body of yours quivers by my touch,
The heat of my body is better felt sans clothes,
The gold dust of your body is also imminent.

Love you forever and ever my dearest friend,
Love is how we live and feel for each other always,
Love has a meaning bigger than *******.

Note: By gold dust here I mean the glistening sweat on your body.

My HP Poem #490
©Atul Kaushal
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Outside is temple—
Soft chanting snow fall, pure white,
Crystal mandalas.
 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
Now this time is yours and mine
and it slips past
faster than a lightning bolt
what was is not at last
and what is, is, Is.

But now all that time as past.

Did I say that
That Time Slips
I forget at last.

What was it that pAST.
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
I remember that day on Mount Tamalpais.
We picnicked under the loving sky
On Bolinas ridge, atop Wicklow hill,
The maiden’s breast.  We found those apple trees,
Who’d gone wild and fell into their world.
A blossom on the way.

I took your picture and you developed into
A sea-horse, or was it a mermaid?  The ridge
Was foaming about you and birds were swimming
Like fish underneath.  We found a tree, an umbrella
Left at the beach.  The coral-grass became our bed
And wine turned into water.

A spiral dance in arms of anemone, it was
All embrace!  That reef was spawning heaven.
At the treasure chest under the sea maiden,
Like children on highland pap, we played
At the beach that day in a castle above the clouds,
Beneath the wave.
*The name Tamalpais was first recorded in 1845. The meaning of the name is not well-established and there are several versions of the etymology of the name. One version holds that the name comes from ostensibly Coast Miwok words for "coast mountain" (tamal pais). Another holds that it comes from the Spanish Tamal pais, meaning "Tamal country," Tamal being the name that the Spanish missionaries gave to the Coast Miwok peoples. Yet another version holds that the name is the Coast Miwok word for "sleeping maiden" and is taken from a "Legend of the Sleeping Maiden."[13][14][15] However, this legend actually has no basis in Coast Miwok myth and is instead a piece of Victorian-era apocrypha.*
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
.
Birds rush and are busy
Breaking the days, laden
Twigs have broken, landed,
White clouds sail in breeze,
Sun has spilt, over gleamed
Gold on crest fallen, blue mountain,
Leaves lay with browned, under
Grown green matted grasses—
Whispers of spring.
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
In my garden, feral and overgrown,
I bear with branchings of the apple,
Hunched and grey, laden with fallow
Fruits, the tired, knottted fingers die
Each year, under which are baubles
Of sourness and stray, poorly drawn
Circles of fodder even hungry deer
Will not graze upon.  The elder tree
Slowly casts itself into Bonsai stone.

Down a valley, in the grades of sun,
Lay a stand of madrones in redden
Fire, with deepest eyes of burnished
Green leaves, some immortal Gorgon
So beauteous, in form and branches
Divine, of Olympian flame, held, atop
Heavenly escarpments by the loving
Skies.  I see it for what it is, my love,
Your body and hair, so tawny, so fair,
Though, ever lost to me but in dream,
Are dearly those red branches, a fable,
Your eyes, green as sea, those leaves.
 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
...and SLEEP!

Just sitting there
at the air base
the area known as area 51
You see the stars
moon shining bright
and I say to you
Don't ask what I think of you
I may not give the answer you want me to

...and WAKE!
 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
Was is little
Was is a lot

But please do tell me
what was not
for that was what was, was?
 Dec 2013
Paul Hardwick
Mirror, Mirror on my wall
why do you always lie to me
you make me look old
when I think I am 18
you make me look small
when I think i am 6 feet tall
ow mirror, mirror...................................STOP IT!!!
 Dec 2013
Seán Mac Falls
Mourning dove, set on black wires above
The cool, garden lawn, looks down on cat,
Who is burning blithe birds in greenest eyes,
He tastes them as he chirps in trouncing trance
Fixating upon fixing them, his pious patience
Is job like, steadfast, gracious as lifted wings.
Early next day, all that is left of fallen mourning
Dove, are a bed of feathers strewn on the lawn.
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