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 Feb 2018
Micrography-Mike D
It’s 6am on an early Spring morning
The temperature is warm but brisk
An ever so gentle breeze kisses me from time to time
The beautiful chirps and whistles
from the proverbial early birds
sing in a beautiful chorus
A harmony seemingly made just for me

The trees and bushes; Glowing moms and dads to-be
of the sprouted buds
on the verge of delivering
their new beauty
The pansies arriving on the early train
are on full display
proudly standing with visibility for all
Tulips dance around them
surrounding them in a rainbow of colors
A whisper of lilac is in the air
Though ever so soft and subtle
it’s aromatic scent so pleasantly distinguishable

Morning dew
A ubiquitous presence
It blankets all in it’s life-giving properties
and releases the crisp and clean odor
of fresh cut grass

The scent of burning wood
from the neighbor’s wood burning stove
dives in and out
teasing my nostrils and passageways
with it’s delectable offerings

The Sun pierces the sky
with a fire red so dark and deep
it almost seems in anger
But I know better
For added to that fire
are the oranges like that of freshly squeezed juice
and yellows
as if a child took a crayon to the sky
All of this encompassed
within a soft cloud of violets and blues
The rainbow decided to take it’s cans of paint
and gush them out all across the sky
in exuberant glory
just so I could see

The gentle kisses delivered by soft breezes
give me a chill of excitement
and make my hairs stand on end
The familiar little bumps
running all along my arms and neck

The Sun fires back in retaliatory manner
with laser beam streaks
Striking me dead center
placing a glow upon me
Much like love
The Sun can be millions of miles away
and I can still feel it’s warmth

I stop and take it all in
Nature in all it’s beauty
****** and pristine
Calm
Peaceful
Quiet
I close my eyes
and make this moment
infinite
Written: February 25, 2018

All rights reserved
 Feb 2018
L B
Two poems got away last night when I was dozing
bolted out the door
before I knew it
laughing like fools
Stole my last two beers
and they were gone

“Ya see, officer,
They didn't have their names yet
so they don't know themselves at all
or to answer if I call
They misbehaved and
Never learned there's rules out there
I'm a lousy poet parent, yeah,
I know
I shoulda been tougher on 'em
Half their words 'er scattered
twisted, misspelled, unreadable, inept
with rhythms all askew 'n weighted wrong

They will surely fall over their own lines
and into big ****-trouble
***** little scribbles!
sorta clumsy like their mother"

Meanwhile, the grammar cop is thinking,
“They do not pay me enough for this!
I'm looking for children of the village idiot and a *****”

"...Across the yard and down the alley
They must've run
Hopin' they didn't figure out the stick
on the Toyota

I'll never see 'em again
Pretty sure they got my keys"

The cop is nodding, bored, polite
but I notice
He's written all this down
 Feb 2018
Elizabeth Squires
karma is a thing of irony
its wheel can
turn
in the other directions
hour of
burn

be
not
a
fool
be
aware
of
the
change
shown
by
the
spool

the run of the mill team
sought a popularity
tag
and on gaining it were
able to cockily
brag

they'd disposed of
the crowd pleasing
Wolf and Rabbi
this did bring them
a greater share
of the pie

karma will
alter its lot
in the due passage of time
tick tock
              tick tock
                            tick tock
a date marked
with its
paradoxical chime
 Feb 2018
harlon rivers
The trap was set by the light of the winter blue moon ;
just a simple blank sheet of paper and a pen
The Antique Cherry carved poster bed stood alone ,
adorning four Bordeaux colored silk pillowcases ,
fluffed feather pillows impatiently laying in wait
The stone cold down comforter that blanketed the loneliness
was neatly turned down from where it lay tucked and rolled ...

I close my eyes with a surrendering sigh ;
the cold touch of solitude brings a breathtaking shiver
Curling up in a fetal ball for a sense of closeness ,
like a tiny abandoned child, waiting for the sandman
to steal away the remains of another lonely day ...

In the imperative silence of the moonlit stillness ,
you could hear the blood running through my veins
The pounding heartbeat is reluctantly softened
quietly drifting off into a dream ...

The first arousing whisper broke the silence ,
as musings tiptoed through the silent reverie
Songs danced throughout the secret places ,
safely kept out of the wilderness' nocturnal voyeurs eyes
Words murmured expose an unsated caged yearning ;
an insatiable thirst that aloneness can not quench ...

Emotions ebb and flow within the twilight depths
of our thickly breathed word play
Intertwined in the infinite beauty
of enchanting moonstruck conjured delights ...

We glide speechlessly in the starlit moon dust,
levitating blissfully like giddy adult playmates
with  an  uninhibited  wanton  glee
Mesmerized by a rousing romantic essence
stirring up an urgent swooning breeze
If only this recurring dreamfulness
could reach out beyond reach a bewitching dream
to tenderly touch another impassioned heart of soul ...  

                                 ~

The sweat soaked sheets are now tangled ,
twisted traces of ecstasy tossed and turned
Awakened flesh trembling with the uncovered morning chill
A body drained and exhausted
as if there were never a moments sleep ...

The trap was set by the light of the winter blue moon ;
perfectly placed to catch the spilled secrets
of a moonstruck midnight spell
Awakening to find a paling illusion’s memory
laid bare in words, stranded on the cotton sheets of dawn ~

In the heat of the night these three simple words 
were clearly scribbled, trapped on the once blank sheet of paper ―
                       to remind me in ink blue ...

                               It  is You !!!

                                    and

               " I breathe you in my dreams "



             harlon rivers ….❤  happy belated St. Valentines day ☽
Thanks for reading !!!

"Breathe You in My Dreams" ― Trixie Whitley
https://youtu.be/1nEnenji0PI
 Feb 2018
Bipasha Dutt
As the freezing months are here,
Migratory birds are seen no where.

Trees are only left with stem and branches,
Appear like wood that lost revival chances.

Squirrels have gathered food and gone.
Sullen and glum, I feel totally alone.

Frequent snowfall deteriorated weather manifold.
I shiver, sniffle and experience piercing cold.

Then sunlight enters window as a ray of hope,
And helps me perceive and gives me another scope,

And makes me realize nothing is lost
Even if everything is covered in frost.

After all, winter will not carry on forever
Nature will again rise from this deep slumber.
 Feb 2018
L B
Could the sun be
    just
    a hole up there—
    that if I could leap
    would enter that breach of light

Someone!
   Throw me a line!
   Give me a reason
   There’s never enough
   in this life of breathing!

Someone!
   Explain why dreams roll a soul
   toward the cliffs of day
   Wakes to ache
   then stuffs its mouth
   with necessary same
  
Inhale—
   button shirt—brush hair
Exhale—
   necessary glance in the mirror
   (yes, still there)    

A lifetime!
   in a shallow instant’s stiff clear water
   (Yeah— still there)  
   in endless caverns of tired eyes
   above mouth still trying
   to say SOMETHING!  
   from ever smaller eternities
   in the glass-flat empty....

Please! Someone explain!
   this draw of breath
   one forcing itself upon another's
   life
   of beating —
   Violence in my chest!

Why hearts don’t sleep—

and I wind up watching
again and again—till
I am the ******...

...Morning lies
   in the mists of a humid *****
   who moans and sweats
   and boils her hips—
   and I wind up watching!?

“Will someone please…!"

   ...and I wind up watching
   bedspread, bed sore, death bed
   till you’re breathing easy
   when she sits and picks
   her collapsed bouffant
   damning the makeup
   that got crushed in the sheets

…Morning
Lies--

   with no expectancy
   both tired of knowing...

   ...The Devil lost his balance
   in my presence one night


...tired of knowing—

THE WILL!  
THAT WILL!

  ...walk away
   or continue to play

   I could open this screen!
   watch the world STEP BACK!
                                 SLAP FLAT!
   as trees and dwellings flush like quail
   to prop their tottering panic
   against the blue—

You—assume composure...
   compose assumptions
   Await my next—

Move like a spy
1990
Why I don’t play chess or any other game
for that matter.    
    
“...and when you're really out there
the windows all have opened onto nothing...
Death having long since-- left the scene.
When you get really out there
it's all--
and nothing…”
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