danse macabre - Hello Poetry

Apr 2018

r

You are fallen darkness,
the ghost ship
in the wake of a quarter-moon

Your depth
is like a blue grave
looking back
from a burial at sea

Your hands are shadows
over a campfire
lustering against the lightless
river, palms folding
like prayers over
the embering heat
of driftwood and deadfall
retreating into ash

You are heaven's shoal
of dead stars, the obsidian
lip of the shoreline
I approach without light

The shallow groundswell
of sand un-printing my tracks,
as if to refuse my sunless steps

You are streetlights left behind me
back home, softening now
beyond their dead-end streets.

Apr 2018

Francie Lynch

Scrapbooks

I keep a private Scrapbook
You won't see on my shelf;
Stuffed with trivia from my life,
Known to no one but myself.

It's filled with words and actions,
Lies, cheats and thefts;
Nothing really serious,
But enough that I won't share.

Deeds I'm not proud of,
Words uttered to hurt;
Clippings from a checkered past
Sealed safely in my book.

There's some who'd like to read it,
Expose me for what it's worth;
They should proceed with caution,
They have their own Scrapbook.

#scrapbooks #secrets

Apr 2018

Tammy M Darby

Skeletons

I display my collection of skeletons openly on my wrist
Only employing their usage if someone carelessly insists
They jingle, jangle, clack
My bleached bracelet of many bones
Clattering and bumping into each other
Waiting for a black corner to call home

I wear my assemblage of dancing skeletons on my wrist
Dangerous they are
Besotted with madness
Sometimes I simply cannot resist

Taking one, two or perhaps three and giving them a toss
Calling secrets from their crafted tombs
Time, deeds and scars
Glittering jewels of a humans emotional wall

So if you see me with bones around my wrist
Cease your scheming despot take heed and desist
Lest I take another one of these skeletons and give it a toss
And watch your dreams descend into that they call
The long walk.

@ copyright Tammy M. Darby April 11, 2018.

Apr 2018

wordvango

As i sing

I sing

As I breathe
As it is meant to be
Songs special meaningful
To me
My tune a prayer
The touch of god in
A euthenistic travail
Up a hill
To no avail
Rounding corners off
Touching head on bark
Banging wisdom with dead ends
And sanity in dark
Yet I

Sing

Always have this tune
In the back of my mind
Calling
I sing

Apr 2018

Jeff Stier

For JS Bach

The universe closes in on me
galaxies align
in matrices of light

This moment was never
meant to be

I'm a cloud
telling tales to the sky
a bit of wind
and I'll be gone

The moment slips through
my fingers
water into the well
while time
that mortal dragon
is readily slain
for there are no dragons
time is a myth
and this universe
bends backwards upon itself
eating its remains
and issuing forth
new life
in a fugue of renewal

again
and again.