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 Jun 2016
Elisa Maria Argiro
On the bridge
between waking and sleeping
I met my father's eyes.

So beautiful and dark,
filled with quiet trouble,
and with tender invention.

Here in this nature park
green branches reach out
to one another, embracing
the air and the sky, touching,
sending chills down each other's
bark and trunk, meeting overhead.

You, my youngest brother, have
our father's eyes, and they are eyes
of pain and tenderness, of caring
every day for our beloved, ailing planet.

Above our heads, just now, down at the bottom
of the road to Ely Ford, sycamores carry thousands
of backlit leaves, each a green window into its own reality.

Who could have known that after so many months of silent solitude,
giving up completely on the illusory version of love,
a new beginning to life would begin as clearly and simply
as the moment when a butterfly, shoulders hunched in the final stages
of imprisonment within its sacred cocoon, knows unswervingly that
this is the day to bust loose, to slowly stretch wet, untried wings,
gingerly begin to flex her coloured, powdery, armature:
learning the way trust in truth and goodness
frees one completely.

*And sheets, and sheets of white light wash over me.
Sheets and sheets of white light wash over me.
©Elisa Maria Argirò
 Jun 2016
Melissa S
When you left...
You forgot the poems
written on my heart
My heart crumbled
The poems did too
and then I stopped
took a listen...
Caught a phrase or two
I had tunnel vision
through a kaleidoscope
Your words did return
like a song sung sweetly
The power to reach me so deeply
The music that plays on my heart
Never to be stolen or tore apart
Awoken by the melodies that sing
Oh the power that your words bring
I wonder...
Do my words ever resound in your mind?
or on your heart... ya know the internal
ticker of the red kind?
Why don't you
take a listen...
I bet that you would find
that my words are there
as yours are on mine <3
 Jun 2016
SE Reimer
~

her wishes she guards,
like every beat of her heart;
and plans too far off
she easily discards.

they offer comfort, no cure,
t'is the best they can find;
she calls it quality assured,
takes it one day at a time.

tomorrow a hope,
next week is a prayer;
living forward with foresight,
she's had years to prepare.

unfettered by limits,
her mind now unchained;
free from constraints,
she's gained... far and away!

with joy she embraces
every hour she outlives,
with nothing to lose
she has everything to give!

each night gives her sleep,
rest reserved for the brave,
her future she's glimpsed,
she lives free...

unafraid!

~

*post script.

this one feels undone, and yet i have nothing more on the subject.  i suppose it just means the end, like life, remains unknown... unwritten.  

Memorial Day brings with it a somber hush; a reminder of sacrifices past... a realization of more to come.  as i have written here before, none of us gets out of here without any scars; and though we are living longer today than at any time previous in history, the mortality rate still stands firmly... almost resolutely... at one hundred percent!  this then begs a question- would i live differently, if i knew just how numbered my days were... and what keeps me from living that way today?
 Jun 2016
Poetic T
On a swing of deadened wood she would
Swing, holding upon these slender ropes of thorn.

Piercing onto flesh, but always held on as
Though to fall, but tears bleed from this motion.

Back and forth, white became red as a head
Slumped forward and motions carried on as hand frim.

This dead wood sat upon a rope of thorns
Motioning the seeping tide  that with each gesture flowed.

Grasping fingers ridged as these swings, each
With heads slumped, bleed a little and swung always evermore .
 Jun 2016
Sjr1000
There is a cold wind
blowing outside,
into the graying,
an apocalyptic sky

The lamps are lit
The night descends
it comes as it always does
My table is cluttered
with wadded paper
scribblings saying nothing

The hanging question you asked
remains
"What is your heart's desire?"

The light it flickers
Throwing shadows on the wall
So eerie at first,
So familiar after all

Fantasies
Phantasims
Hypnogogic imagery
A trance like state of mind

Many lifetimes pass
None of them mine

What is your heart's desire
It strangles the mind with possibilities
Waiting for the tell,
the tell that might never come.

You asked me
as we left the foggy meadow
"You who speak so highly of the little synchronicites,
But what is your heart's desire? "

I rise with the sun each day
My path laid out before me
I do this and that in order

Each night as the dark descends
The day's vivid light has vanished
I stare into this lamp light
and wonder
what is my heart's desire.
My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have been on the road
made the world my family

The sun and the moon you robbed
stars you made your countless eyes
but for you
I would have flown where eagles rise
made my home in the sky

My love, you are an agony
but for you
I would have gone down the flow
a speck of moonlight
in the sparkling shadows of night
hanging on a leaf like poetry!
 Jun 2016
Eudora
Find peace with your baffled mind
Induce equanimity in between your struggling breaths
Remedy the desolation with your flowing tears
Resign to the solitude with your dispirited shadow

Catch the glimpses with your swollen eyes
Wear a smile with your shivering lips
Seek solace in between your trembling fingers
Walk the steps with your hesitant feet

Gather strength from your shattered pieces
Feel your existence amidst your aching soul
Endure the sorrow with your feeble self
Preserve the love in your failing heart
 Jun 2016
John Stevens
(Going Home)

Stan is eighty seven      (Stan now is eighty eight)
bound for heaven         ( waiting now at Heaven’s gate)
where his Love
went on before him.

Some day soon
he will join June
Where the light
will never dim.

Time has past
since he hugged her last
now, the pain
unreal at times.

He knows she lives
where God’s Love gives
us Peace and
love so sublime.

And now….

His mission fulfilled
In what God willed
the race will end
never more to roam.

He made the right choice
The Angels rejoice
God’s forever Love with June
Stan will be going home.
(C) 05-19-2016
John L Stevens
(It was a pleasure to write this)


http://www.junebergalzheimers.com/
 Jun 2016
Wanderer
I often sit and wonder
Amongst the blurred water colors of twilight
What you would have to say about today
Commenting softly on the morning bird song
Humming against the back of my neck in sleepy adoration
Sometimes I cry with longing, with regret
At all we will never share
Most often I smile that secret you and me smile
At all we were able to lay bare
The weight of your hand in mine has no measure
I recognize it in the deep hours of night
I'll hear your voice, taste your taste
Notice your presence in bright summer light
We lived drunk, so high our eyes crossed
Soaking up every second we had to grab
Nothing that strong lasts for long
I'm blessed to have loved you
Blessed to love you still
There is no end to you and I. Just a change in how we now exist. Me, physical. You, spiritual. The love remains the same.
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