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 Mar 2016
Matthew Berkshire
In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;
 Mar 2016
Denel Kessler
The Mountain keeps all secrets. Crusted lichen on timeworn boulders. High altitude longing for alpine daisies. Carefree blossoms, long ago plucked, gone to seed, restless in the fertile ground.  Wildflowers bloom shortly sweet, fleeting paintbrush to layered canvas. Fairy slippers lost on crumbling doorsteps. Glacier lilies pressed between avalanched pages.  Forget-me-nots in forgotten blue hollows. The common harebell feels anything but common when seen through a lover's eyes. Forest tiger, your bulbs taste bitter. Purple lupines sage with fuzzy-leafed logic.  Fireweed, *****, unadorned, eternally reaching. Lousewort, spreading phlox, leave this scarlet alone.  Listen to Indian Henry, it's bad luck to trample what is sacred. The devil dreams behind steep and sheltered walls. Keep to the Wonderland, bypass this Trail of Shadows.  Seek ancient hunting grounds, steadfast shelter in the wooded clearing.  There is no pearly everlasting along these old trails.  Paradise lost may never be regained.
 Mar 2016
Terry Jordan
You demand that we stop waving our arms about
While talking or whenever I do the 3-legged downward dog
That reminds you of being abused in another life
I know you recognize the delivery man as the abuser
Who you bark at fiercely, relentlessly
Just as you always growl jealously at Hazel, our neighbor's dog,
Despite her best efforts to be your friend
I see the wolf in your eyes when you're stalking lizards
Running, unleashed, leaping impressively from a standstill
Unsupervised in what substitutes poorly for wilder places
In our Florida backyard
You stare accusingly whenever I talk on the phone
Demanding to be heard, too
You hear and smell things I cannot imagine
Long before they reach my ordinary ears and nose
I see you cannot stop digging that hole
Next to the patio in my wild grasses garden
You eat the finest organic dog food
But prefer something dead on the path
During your afternoon jog to the beach
With Bill, so dismayed, that you enjoy smelly rolling
Though you endure your punishment, a scrubbing in the shower
Just to cuddle with Bill on the couch all clean and loved
I command you to COME HERE when doing yardwork
Ignoring me, you trot off towards Federal Highway
Or slip through the hedge when I’m weeding-you're a wily one
Hoping for wolf adventures like the ones in your dreams
Those that turn scary, maybe you get pounced on
When you're making terrifying yelping sounds
And trembling uncontrollably
Waking us all up, leaping up on the bed
Scooching to a safe haven between us
Beseeching, "Hold me, squeeze me, say it's OK for me to be here!"
Hugging you Bill says, "It's OK, there there, he's a good doggie."
Buddy found Bill, after being abandoned to the street, but never stopped showing his fears & phobias that apparently reflect his life before he was rescued.
 Mar 2016
A Lopez
In haste
I free flow
Towards the
luminescence.
I can see my guardian
Protectors,
I see their
Unearthly
Care
T
A
K
E
R
Essence.
I'm gleeful
And pleased
As next to them
Is God's presence.
This to me is a
Present.
As amor
And vim
Overtakes me.
I rest unwearied
Easily,
H2o through me
Shows
The banner of my
Existence.
I thank my guardian
Angels
For their hovering over me
And their loving kindness,
Keeping me on the path
To fufiill
Gods mission-
 Mar 2016
Vanessa Gatley
U wonder
In this night
What u doing
Thinking if me
I wish
 Mar 2016
Born
Many years ago
a possible
love story was formed

It began like
every other story
a gaze that
stops time
and a very bad idea

Not his bad idea
hers



for some reasons
that day he was loaded
with anger
He desperately wanted to smash something

Lucky for him
a thief showed up
a girl thief
it didn't matter to him
cause he wanted to smash something
or someone in this case
He drew his sword and they danced for awhile


  
  He didn't
   believe in love
   but she said
   this is our love story
  
   He laughed so hard and said
   the kinda love story
   that I want to **** someone
   and you just show up
 Mar 2016
Gaffer
Would the happy couple like to come onto the floor for the first dance
Do you take this woman
Would the man in the crowd like to join them for his last waltz
I now pronounce you
The last waltz
No words to be spoken, he promised
Instead, he watched as she danced out of his life forever
She couldn’t keep his eyes from talking, not now
Does he catch your tears and build an ocean
Does he touch your face when you are sleeping
Does he know your spot of misadventure
Does he, does he, does he
The night drinks to life that should have been
The last dance
Would the happy couple come onto the floor for the final time
Mr and Mrs
Would the man in the crowd like to die now
The final goodbye
You look
Shhhh
She presses
Keepsake
Something Blue.
 Mar 2016
Elizabeth Squires
choreography
is taking off
in rural areas
cows are moving
and grooving
fabulously

on hillsides
and in creek paddocks
you can see cows
shaking
their four legged frames

WOW

WOW

WOW

those cows can dance
their hypnotic steps
put one in a trance
Skirting the railroad opportunity along the cotton mill wall ...
Bagging shards of coal in a burlap sack , to light home fires , to warm boiled cabbage on a December night ..'Tis a blessing indeed to be filled ..
Copyright March 12 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

In 1925 my grandfather would gather coal that fell off boxcars along the rail line adjacent to the Fulton Bag Cotton Mill in Atlanta .. He was ten years old ..
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