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 Apr 2016
Gidgette
I always wanted to be a "Bond Woman"
The kind of woman James Bond would want
****, exciting, worldly, mysterious
Bossoms to die for
But no,
I'm a "book woman"
The kind of woman who can recite Emily Dickenson in my sleep
Reading glasses that are eternally falling off my face
Bossoms?
Not so much
When the Bond women are wet,
They look like water goddesses
I look like a drowned rat
Plus my glasses fog up
A blind, drowned rat
I think its safe to say,
I'll never be a "Bond Woman"
I'm a "Book Woman"
And I guess that's ok

Here's to all us "Book Women"
 Apr 2016
Little Bear
There's an orchestra in my garden
playing symphonies of delight
singing a fantasia as I wake up
with lullabies to sleep at night.
How can creatures so small
make so much sound?.
And their beaks are so tiny!!!
Noisy little birds.
:o)
 Apr 2016
Emily B
my locker is cleaned out
i have
deleted the documents
on my desktop
my uniforms are washed
and waiting for
the next new employee
tomorrow will be another day
and i won't be here

it turns out
i am leaving
as noteless
as i came
 Apr 2016
Got Guanxi
you say you paved the way for me,
with a bicycle on the motorway,
and a lorry on a cul de sac,
thats one way for
the light to illuminate the dark streets.
apparently,
but then when pieces didn’t fit together,
like lego blocks as kids,
you left me in my teens,
when I needed you still.
and ever since
still water runs deep,
i drowned without you around.
when simplicity was a gift horse we stared
in the wide open mouth.
you stayed still,
i moved south.

we no longer talk often.
I gave up on you,
after you replaced me so hastily,
when you gave up on me,
and i thought you hated me,
what will be will be.
maybe.
I saved my best trick,
for the encore.
you wanted more from the performance.
it dawned on both of us that,
the camels back broke from
straw stories told over
and over again.

now you look at me strange,
when you look up and see me at something,
you never asked me to.
old bitter blue,
eyes,
wide,
surprised that i made it -
without you
almost frustrated,
i never doubt you too,
i just did it with or without you.
so i won’t shake your ageing hand.
respect speaks for it self.
it’s a two way street.
Not a cul de sac.

Some roads you go down and theres no turning back.
 Apr 2016
Emily B
in your poetic journey
you may meet poets
who are taller
and seem mysterious
and you may not understand
their magic.

their words
may be taller
than you can reach.

go back to them.

if they are worth
their salt,
they will take your hand
and walk you through
their lines.

you will grow.

the best poetry
carries our essence
out to greet the world.

the best poems
are conversation.
 Apr 2016
mikecccc
health in a jar
or words
maybe wine
lots of wounds
lots of remedys
nothing works
for everything
but laughter and time
usually help
to some extent.
 Apr 2016
GaryFairy
up above and down below
there are forces of our control
waiting for strength or weakness to show
then you will reap the seeds you sow

if you choose down below
then hell will be your fate
if you choose up above
heavenly gates will await

up above and down below
there's a battle for your soul
every weakness and strength they know
only you can choose which way to go
 Mar 2016
The Dedpoet
Into the night
Revealing all of the pleasures
With its hand of shadows
Uncovering what one hides
In the dark.

A blow of sky
With it's silence that burns
Between spaces when one cannot
Sleep, the cry of insomniac
Blood straying from sleep.

Into the night
One flees from things;
Or runs to them away from light,
The moist of the earth as
The back touches in a nameless
Affair between skins.

All the lust,
It burns with passion
Like a dream speaker whom
Walks with sinful nature.

And the kiss is a wound,
The fever of the moment
Turns into a black unholiness
That makes one wonder
Why the bad feels
So good.

Into the night,
All that is left from the parched
Thoughts under a bankrupt sun
Touches the inner animal,
Floods the moment
In the dead of darkness
And dies upon the touch.
 Mar 2016
david mungoshi
talk to me directly, **** you
look me in the face and see me
see me smile an authentic smile
talk to me directly,**** you
you have a silent wall around you
your gripping app has you enthralled
everything you do is choreographed
and you get your kicks from the selfies
you're at sea when it comes to real humans
warm, tender and wanting your attention
real people with brittle hearts that break
real people that you cannot programme
for there are no icons for such phenomena
so look at me and talk to me, **** you
lest we get lost in a world gone mechanical
 Mar 2016
Joel M Frye
What on earth is given freely
without thought of gain, return
Spirit spins on heaven's wheel we
ride, get off, each in our turn.
Something you've no longer need of
or use daily, either way;
Prayer, poem, words to feed and
bring us succor through the day.
Heads a-whirl with planetary
matters weighing every move,
a spin on Spirit's wheel can carry
motives one turn toward love.
Change is rarely universal;
creeps along, just barely seen,
manifests by our reversals -
loving humans newly being.
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