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 Jul 2018
Nishu Mathur
I coloured my world today
my hands smeared in pastels
canary yellows
ripe peaches and cardinal ochres
pink from a flamingo sunrise
a passionate cerise
Splashed
an array of feisty blues
a flamboyant turquoise
a topaz tango
a twinkling periwinkle
Streaked it with
gold
contoured lilac smudges
lavender tipped edges
in custard pineapple floats
splattered emeralds, toned pistachio
fern greens with swift finger strokes
Tempered it with
muddy crusty earthy browns
rock coloured sandy mounds
reined in royal purple
the sensual blaze of a flaming sunset
the dark indigo of a gloaming sky
agate drops a few
a silver sliver of a crescent new

I coloured my world
with my eyes
my fingers, hands
my hues
just the way I wanted to
An old poem
 Jul 2018
Seán Mac Falls
(Sonnet)

Above, this morning, on another plain
Over bogland and tundra rising snows drift
Darting birds white, unlike you, they strain
Fleeing on wing to save some earthen kin.
Blood runs as they race, your shadows cast,
Their hearts beating to some distant dawn.
Under the pale sun, white burns on their backs,
Daylight sings, their ears are horned, little faun
White as snow, the prince of the sky is blessed
On high by drops of rain, and dusted freeze,
Then blood and breast, sacrament and eucharist,
Their tale ends in glory, risen as a breeze.
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Note:
Irregular variations on the sonnet form have included the 12-line sonnet sometimes used by Elizabethan poets, G. M. Hopkin's curtal sonnets of 10-1/2 lines, and the 16-line sonnets of George Meredith's sequence Modern Love (1862).
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 Jul 2018
Madisen Kuhn
you only tell me
how you feel
late at night
when you’re in bed
and your eyes
are blurred with sleep

i think it’s because
you feel more
hidden at night,
you wrap the darkness
around you like a blanket,
you find comfort
in the stars
and the quiet opacity

just be sure to love me
in the morning
 Jul 2018
Nishu Mathur
A calf is revered
A bird is cared for
The homeless have a bed
The wounded are nursed
The desperate given hope
A hungry child is fed

It is happiness
When a tear is wiped
And hands join in love
To erase slivers of
Sorrow and sadness
To hold each other up

That is to be human
Who we are
That indeed is to be
Forever, I bow to
And forever salute
The spirit of humanity
 Jul 2018
Nishu Mathur
And what do I serve with tea?

Of a cake layered with words - a slice
A croissant with stirring smilies
Quiche with quaint archaic spice -
Fresh from a poet's repository.

In the clink and chime of quills and ***
And spoons that stir the brew of tea
Dark or creamed, winter or spring
Here's to a cup of poetry.
 Jul 2018
Clay Smith
A setting sun
A crackling fire
Friends and family
A heart's desire
Another day
A welcome night
A shooting star
Dims in flight
We'll sleep and dream
about these days
Until our memories
Time betrays
But even though
Time passes by
We'll sit and watch
This star filled sky
 Jul 2018
Terry Jordan
However I wasted my younger days
Wherever I wiled away precious hours
Whenever I gazed at the moon and stars
Whatever games that we played and pondered
Whichever adventure we went on then
Is exactly where my mind still wanders

Whoever I kissed and then held hands with
Whatever the spell from the sounds and smells
Whenever my heart was soundly broken
However I try silencing this hell
Wherever that loss is newly spoken
Whichever place causes the freshest pain

Whenever I think of the time in flight
By mistake flew into forbidden space
When 2 jets flanking me motioned us down
How they saw us as Eco-Terrorists
Flying to LosAlamos Power Plant
Where it is strictly restricted airspace

Whenever dad left-once on Christmas eve
However it unfolded felt tragic
Whatever Christmas comes around again
Whoever toasts to the joy of the day
Whatever the chance, gone was the magic
Whichever way we celebrate today

Whichever day Mother's Day comes around
Whoever I'm with matters not a bit
However I remember that morning
While feeding our son, “I love you”, you said
Then later, “I don't want to be married...
Anymore.”  That pain floods like tsunamis

However I try to stay in the now
Whenever the calendar reminds me
How my favorite youngest brother died
Whatever the details I sorely pine
Thinking of Sam this 4th of July
When he would have been turning 59

However my days have been wiled away
How often revealing one simple truth
*Where your treasure is, will your heart be, too  (Matthew 6:21)
Happy 4th of July!  I had my brother Sam convinced-he was born on the 4th of July-that the fireworks were specifically for him.  This piece is my stab at a sestina, a poetry form with 6 verses with 6 lines, #10 syllables each, and a 7th verse with 3 lines.
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