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 Nov 2016
Sally A Bayan
(of domes, towers and gnomes)
              ...a repost...

The day is at its end
the towers and domes in the city
Are all closed...all hushed up
Abandoned....a lonely sight,
The gnomes of the day are mostly gone
Beware.... the gnomes of the night
Have woken and are now energized
Raring to prowl the dark halls and corridors
Out to the unlit backstreets and corners
Cloaked by towering shadows
all set to play havoc to unknowing  passers-by....

In the dark,

....where all restraints are set free
Where unconquered demons
Take centerstage....

In the dark,

....where the dead gets to live again

In the dark

...where anything goes, unnoticed
In the shadows, where
The dark sky is the limit...................
............................
...........­.................
............................
Until the first shafts of light come in
............................
When all secrets stand to be revealed
.............................
------The dark takes a rest-------
-------as a new day unfolds------


Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...a repost from 2013......edited a bit.....

              Happy Halloween to all!
 Nov 2016
Ja
Life, is like a bucking bronco
Throwing you a curve, at every turn
But without those, up’s and down’s it gives
How would we, ever learn
WIZDUMBs BY JA 11
 Oct 2016
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
 Oct 2016
Nishu Mathur
It was when our eyes first met...the knowing look
the glance that locked on a breezy spring day
when April rain danced to the beat of life
and windy dark clouds music played

It was when you first whispered my name
your voice just a moment away
when the colors of a thousand flowers burst
when the summer sun smiled its winged rays

It was when you first held my hand
the tender touch in your warm hold
wrapping me in moonlit russet dreams
in a  world of scarlet autumn's gold

It was when we first danced
beside the fire that amber glowed
crimson steps with hearts  of bliss
as winter spread her cape of snow

It was at dawn, at noon, at dusk
I swept, lost, tossed and blown
you, my love, took my breath away
and a tiny seed of love was sown
 Oct 2016
The Dedpoet
The body is a bridge
Which navigates the living waters,
The soul is the air you don't see,
The flesh, a cage of the moment:

People,pain, hearts, lovers;
Tales of the enriching experience
Like fire buried in the mirror
Weaving embers in different skies.
The moment turns solid
And the dream disperses through
The awakening's spread hand,
The apparition is real and the memory
Is finite inside the caged soul.
Wondering if  time is real
In a foliage of misconception,
Amidst sullen realities
Charred by light in the unpredictable eye...
I believe in the soul.

The soul whispers to the heart
In pulse beats of clarity,
The rivers flow it's ashen silt
To where the river begins,
Faith enters me absolved in
Absolution of the world,
Worlds collide as the soul battles
For the appeasement of immortality:

The soul is a pilgrimage
In the dazzlement of the flesh.
 Oct 2016
RAJ NANDY
Dear Poet Friends, over the last few years I have seen some of our poets make passing remarks about Van Gog, thereby displaying their interest about this talented painter, who had died unrecognised!  Vincent gained full recognition posthumously, for which his brother Theo’s wife was greatly responsible. Hope you like this short and concise true story in verse. Best wishes, - Raj

   A TRIBUTE TO VINCENT VAN GOG’S
                      SUNFLOWERS
                        B­y Raj Nandy
  
”One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul
  and yet no one ever come to sit by it. Passerby
  see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and
  continue on the way.” – Vincent Van Gogh(1853-1890)

A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY :
Though during his brief life-span of 37 years he had
remained almost wholly unknown;
His artistic talents began to exhibit itself during his
early years, -
To become a colossus amongst post-impressionist
painters in his later years!
The son of a Dutch clergyman, he had worked in
various capacities, -
In his uncle’s art gallery, in a bookstore, and pursued
theological studies in Amsterdam University.
Also followed by a short stint in Belgium’s coal-mining
district as a lay missionary!
At the age of 27 years took to painting with financial
help from elder brother Theo,
Who encouraged and helped him for the next ten years
or so.
This was the most creative period of Vincent’s life,
Followed by an attack of dementia when he cut his
own ear lobe risking his life!
On 27th July 1890, he shot himself, bringing his
great artistic career to a tragic end!

SERIES OF ELEVEN SUNFLOWER PAINTINGS:
Vincent commenced his famous sunflower series
to decorate his house in Arles, France,
While anticipating his friend Paul Gaugin’s visit in
advance.
His first four canvases had paintings of cut sun -
flowers in bunches of twos and fours;
Painted in Paris during Aug-Sep 1887, which the
world still adores.
But his later Arles series of seven still life canvases
are better known to us;
And this series of paintings had made Vincent
internationally famous!
The most valued of these seven is a vase containing
a bunch of 15 sunflowers, -
Now displayed at the Art Museum in the city of Tokyo;
A Japanese firm had paid 40 million dollars at an
auction for this masterpiece to show!

                    A SHORT CONCLUSION
Vincent brought his passion for sunflowers from his
homeland in Holland.
Which became synonymous with him like those ‘water
lilies’ with his contemporary painter Claude Monet.
Vincent painted the various stages of the flowers in bloom;
From its budding stage till it wilted and swooned!
Chrome yellow and yellow ochre made them look fresh;
And arid brown and somber shades showed its wilted stage!
Thus his paintings covered all angles of spectrum of life
itself;
In turn reaching a deeper understanding of how all living
things are tied together and made !
His explosive energy was displayed through his vibrant
shades of yellow.
Using red for passion, and green for conflict to show.
Grey shades were used for life’s inevitable surrender,
with blue symbolising infinity;
Thus this Dutch Impressionist painter harnessed a
moment of time in eternity!

Foot Notes:-
Dr Jan Hulsker, a foremost scholar on Van Gogh, had said that this Sunflower series of paintings brought Vincent eternal acclaim & fame! During his short life span he made 700 paintings, 1600 drawings, 9 lithographs & one etching. His ‘Potatoe Eaters’, ‘Red Vineyard’, ‘Starry Night’, - are all famous paintings. Paul Gaugin, & Claude Monet, were his other ‘Impressionist’ contemporaries. Impressionism  emphasised changing qualities of light & colour, visible brush strokes, open composition,  creating an impression of a moment of time! Derives its name from Claude Monet’s harbour painting titled “Impressions & Sunrise”. This art form became popular in 1880s and 1890s.
*ALL COPY RIGHTS RESERVED BY RAJ NANDY
 Oct 2016
Melissa S
My muse can be thought of as a curse
for it comes at the most inopportune times
but she also plays nice
and brings me peace of mind

My muse pounces on me to write
Hit by the force of nature in nature
The sound of crashing waves guide my hand
Releasing words from my body

My muse is like a lover
She comes to me in dreams
She teases, pleases then leaves

Calliope my lover comes often
She's never satisfied
This temptress of the tablet

Just think we could feel
the warmth from the same sun
Hear the same whispers in the breeze
Wish upon the same fallen star
and look up to the same majestic trees

She connects all
No matter the place
Her sirens song on the wind for all
Under the same night light constellations
Wreathed in the fog under veiled trees scribbling

She is a giver
When allowed to live within us
She gives a whole new view
Bringing two poets together
Even though there are miles in between
She gives her heart and soul
and the drive for us to dream

Her gift is poetic eloquence
Stirring within two
Beautifully scribes new words
New places to explore
Distance means nothing to a muse
She bestows everything she has to her
chosen oracles*

By Melissa S and Palmer
This was such a fun experience. Palmer is an amazing poet if you do not already know his work go and check out more of his writing ~ http://hellopoetry.com/palmer/
 Oct 2016
Emily B
Once in a while
The wind picks up
That old ghost
Gets lonely
And starts thinking
about me.

The tremors hit land
Before the words do
And sometimes
I am tempted
To walk out
Into the squall
To see if I can be lifted up
Into the jet stream
Like the buzzards do.

The sun is shining today
There are no clouds
Maybe the storm is passed.
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