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 Oct 2017
harlon rivers
The warm autumn breeze
         scatters the leaves
     like spring  snowflakes
      I carefully hand stack
        them each by color,
              one by one,
           as if they were
          befallen dreams
                     or
      similarly unholdable
               gathered
      garnered memories
                      •
        each leaf touched
             reminds me
       of how many times
          I've had to let go ―
         how many times  
                I've fallen
     without a place to land
   until the winds of change
         drew me back up
               as if I were
   evanescent autumn leaves,
      to be swept away again,
         touched by the spirit
             the true nature
                  of  love
                      • •        
        sown seeds of one love
           bestrewn hopefully,
             thusly cast about
              just as intended,  
   the grain and chaff together,
     sifted by the velvet breath
        of the samsara wind's
              sanguine touch

                     •  •  •
            

  autumn waters ... October 29, 2017
Post script:

Samsara: The eternal cycle of birth, suffering, death, and rebirth

1. ( in Buddhism) the process of coming into existence as a differentiated, mortal creature.
2. (in Hinduism) the endless series of births, deaths, and rebirths to which all beings are subject.
Citations:  Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged, 12th Edition 2014. S.v. "samsara."

Hand Stacked Leaves
Written by:  h.a. rivers
ღ♥´¯'°¤ღ ღ¤°´¯'♥ღ

My last first kiss
shall be
remembered
taken in with every touch
into my very last nerve
every fiber of my being
make me whole my
soul find heaven
my life have meaning.


My last first Kiss
shall be
instilled
in my heart forever
eyes meeting eyes
as anticipation peaks
hearts pounding fast
even skipping beats.
I will take it all in
blissful love on the rise
gentleness in the moment
as emotions intensify.


That last first kiss
I shall savor taste
I shall be united for once
when I taste her lips
meant for only
me to find
from the beginning.


That last first kiss
will be
heaven on earth
as our
passion flows free
and our souls
lock together
just him and me.
Melding into one another
as our lips meet
time and space
will still….
repeat… repeat…repeat…


Just her
And
Paradise


A magical moment
with him
so beautifully divine
our last first kiss
will drip
forever
of honeyed
sweet wine.


  ღ♥´¯'°¤ღ ღ¤°´¯'♥ღ
#Collaboration #Love #Kiss #First #Last #PoetryWeave #Forever #Enchanting
 Oct 2017
Linda Pahl
dark butterfly emerges at the taste of the moon
both fragile and strong with bent gossamer wings
she lifts towards the sky and drinks full of the light
and dances in moonbeams in celebration of flight

Linda Pahl, 7/10/14
 Oct 2017
Cné
Within the mind there is a place where dwells the demon's brood.
As Halloween gets nearer yet, it's gates become unglued.

The seal begins to strain and squeal. The hinges start to swell
As creatures strive to come alive and leave my mental hell.

The moon is full and scudding clouds give credence to the tale
That at the time of Hallow's Eve our courage starts to fail.

I see the shadows of the trees, denuded of all their leaves
Imagining the snapping claws imagination weaves.

I peer in darkened places where the moonlight fails to reach
And think I see a movement and my mind begins to screech.

My heartbeats race with every step. Was that a howl I heard?
Or was it just a "Nevermore" from Edgar Allen's bird?

My nerves begin to fray and itch, my feet begin to dance.
My dreams awake me in a sweat at Frankenstein's romance.

How eerie is the human mind where fears and horrors lurk!
Sleep well tonight, just a few more days, til monsters go BERSERK!
 Oct 2017
S Olson
Love will grow in me sideways, a supine pine
sapling, shoveling mountainous glaciers of stone

embedded into my boiling erosions, melting
the anaerobic hot mud into a calmer froth.

We may kiss at the precipice of the abyss
our love has inevitably chewed through itself.  

And I will likely palm our weathers
into a river-swallowing sea

and you will hate me; desert of a future
companion’s ship—can I

swallow my dominance; that devotion
could bloom from this love’s wilderness,

foresting in perennial fullness,
prospering in the shared bed
rock we have carved into orchids.  

At the place where I will bury my bones
in the murderous entrancement of another,

taiga could storm from the soft ring of fire
between twenty interlocked evergreen fingers.
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