Invest in change
The only certainty
Aside from death.

"Wish I could go back
when things were
just stinky
yucky, smelly
you know, in innocence of yesterday's years
better to be blissfully unaware then painfully so?
I didn't realize I'd stepped in ****."

Cherie Nolan © 2016

a blaze of stars*
decorate the bush sky's darkness
a blaze of stars
their lighting is like glitter bars
twinkling in arraying brightness
exhibiting beautifulness  
*a blaze of stars

Eating alone
and out of the pan
soup again
or - random produce

The spoon falls in

Here's whats included:
Romano beans
sun dried tomato
celery with leaves
red and purple pepper
Spike, cumin, tumeric
one small potato from Joe's garden

Let it simmer.

I don't have a destination.
I don't have an anchorage.
Drifting in the ocean currents.
With a repaired boat.
I have no where to go.
Miles away from the land.
I row towards your eyes.
Don't avert your eyes.
Or I'll be eternally lost.

OH tortured souls,
How well do I know you..
My heart has been shattered,
Exploded into irrepressible bits
From loving you so much.
Once annihilated,
I was able to bear the burden of
This exquisite Existence.
God help me,
I had to became nothing
To be one with all.

He would appear and disappear
without a sound
Would stare at the stars
all night long
Sleep on the cold desert floor
Eat peyote buds
and sing war songs
He was rich
in all the nothing he had
Identified as a thunderbird
The animal spirits
were sacred in his world
Asked about gold
and he would scorn
Holding up water
the most precious
in all forms
I called him Navaho
        NO !
Call me Dineh !
So I did

awakened
in the silence of the night
unable to return to sleep
i sat listening
as the stars taught me
unheard messages
delivered on a shimmering moonbeam
tho' i did not intellectually understand
i intuitively knew
what the starlight was saying
then sleep returned
and upon awakening
my intellect seems to have forgotten
the message
my heart now knows

©2016janetaylor

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

These days it seems
I remember my early childhood
Better than the contents of my last meal
Dementia creeps.......

Right now,
I'm remembering one early evening
With four of us small boys
Sitting on a wall
Discussing the realities of the world
As we knew it

The moon was pale but visible
And a subject for discussion
As serious as old men playing chess
We wondered how far away it could be
One lad said it was farther than London
But we knew that was obviously wrong
After all
We could see the moon
No-one had seen London

                                       By Phil Roberts