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 Jan 2016
A Lopez
The sun's ray's
In my heart
And body
Pierce the window panes
I feel pain
I'm going in-
Sane\sanity is lame,
What's your name
Señorita, sènor?
I can't hurt
Not any
More.
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
a strong bora
sends the boats in the port
rocking and clanging

people keep clutching
their hats
tightly to their heads
their skirts to their thighs

we take windblown photographs
of each other
before the harbor bay

the wind is not as wild
as on the funny drawings
on those picture postcards
that show everything flying
   through the air

but things are bad enough
to bring tears to your eyes
and to make us turn our backs
on the rest
   of Trieste
and dry our eyes
over coffee and coke
in a small bar
   around the corner

           * *
Trieste is a lovely old multicultural Italian city on the northern Mediterranean. Bora is a fierce fall wind in this area, blowing from the land to the sea
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
lost in alien space
Italians
posted their home culture
and worked for it

today

the Americas
     (and the whole western world)

would starve to death
   without pasta  pizza
  
and Michelangelo
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen!
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
fierce
   fierce
blows the wind
   across this island
   off the coast of Africa
  
sittting on the ***** of a volcano
I keep listening to the sound of things

street signs clatter to each other
empty beer cans roll noisily
   through midnight streets
doors keep slamming
   to make their presence known
plastic bags hiss airily
and fly away
   like they never thought
   they could

the ears
of the little dog that thinks
   I am his master
stand at odd angles
while he is grooming himself
   on my lap

warm bodies
in a blustery place

the patio chair
   scrapes its way
   across the tiles
   inch by windy inch

my wine slushes in the glass

I share fiesta music
   from half a mile a way
   coming to me
   in gusty fragments
and almost feel the rush
   of low clouds chasing each other
   under a star-studded sky

here I am
on the ***** of a volcano
listening to the sounds of the world

                  * *
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
last night
I had a thought
that felt like it might turn
into pure poetry

I clung to it
and tried to make it stay
and grow

but it went on its way

and I to sleep

nothing but memories to keep
   of possibilities

when the loud beep of my alarm
woke me to other thoughts
and yet another day
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
quipping maliciously
the learned scholar
outdid himself
and keeled over backward
into a huge barrel
of seething criticism
 Jan 2016
Walter W Hoelbling
the howto
             is a mighty force
             it tells us
                with authority
             how to
             best navigate the world
             appropriate to the occasion
            
             from love to cars to finances
             it guides us
                to the proper steps
            
             and yet
             it somehow fails
             to say  
             why
                if we follow the directions
             we feel like children
             rather than adults
            
             why
                when all wisdom
                has been eagerly applied
             we still don't know
     why
                 our hands and feet
                 are tied
 Dec 2015
Kj
dating a poet is fun,
and you'll learn things about yourself,
that you never knew.
but when you leave her,
you'll be the one who's broken.

you see,
she'll break you down
into bits and pieces-

she'll carve rhymes
into your rib cage
and
she'll make your kisses
into pentameters.

your voice becomes her rhythm,
and each color in your eye
forms a stanza.

you become pieced together
and poorly stitched,
because she's taken out
the very best parts of you
and the very worst.

she's taken you,
and cut out her favorite parts,
and she'll promise to put you back together,
but the funny thing is,
she never learned to sew.
 Dec 2015
Tanisha Jackland
The key to women
Is a thinking man
Not a drinking man
Who can open up a
Stinking can of spam

We’ve dealt with a lot
And we know how to spot
The dead end plot
Of men just wanting a fling

We are deep individuals
Not just pretty plated visuals
For you to beep
Whenever you peep
You creep

So give us our props
Then maybe we’ll drop…

You a line or two.
As if you didn't know. The truth is we are all human and deserve to be treated as such. But most importantly, we all have souls, you know, those delicate magical little things inside us all? Speak to each other's soul. That is why poetry is so important. It speaks to what is unseen and true. Remember this. Be playful, spontaneous and protect what is sacred.
 Dec 2015
Walter W Hoelbling
my friends said last night
I should write something light
something shiny and bright
to the readers’ delight

no fights and no terror
no soldiers no war
no suicide bombers
no refugees galore

after all   it’s the season
when altogether we sing
of the love that we bring
to each other
    within reason

so I am doing my best
NOT   to make a clean breast
    of the worries that plague me
cuddle deep in my nest
only welcome the guests
who brings me good news
and carefully wipes
all bad cues from their shoes
ere they enter my house

so  
to rouse our good feelings
we all listen to the chimes
of the church bells a-pealing

and to a poem that rhymes
 Dec 2015
Ysabel
Let me hold you,
Let me feel your warmth while it still lasts.
Let me cry out how awful my day went,
from the two hours delay due to traffic to tons of paper works in the office.
And how I missed a lunch meeting because of a mishap in the site.
Yet let me dry my tears first before my sleepiness takes me away,
And believe in the idea
that you will always be there for me, hugging me so tight at night
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