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 Mar 2018
Valsa George
He flew,
far from the plumed flock,
above the vast stretch of sands,
over crags and boulders.
flew into forlorn uncharted lands,
into the lure of the unknown,
searching for a tree to perch.
a temporary haven in encircling fetters,
a home away from home.
seeking comfort where none exists.

Saw the twilight nibbling at,
the blazing brightness,
from the sinking sun.
an orb of orange red.
a tad too naughty to tame,
playing out its remaining moments.

Nowhere within eyeshot,
a crown of supine leafy green,
propped firm on poles of brown,
shooting out into the darkened sky.
nor the whirr of nocturnal moths,
leaving the hide of leprous barks.

Like a kite at the beck of winds,
slipped out from the controlling grip,
with the string hanging loosely down,
he swayed and tossed in boundless blue.
below lay the abysmal depths,
and sand dunes forming cancerous lumps.


The sun that sank into roaring depths,
left not even a glint of light,
unable to hold on to a willed direction,
and passing through the Stygian sky,
he knew his body growing heavy,
felt the ache in every limb,
and the wings, losing their power to soar
x x x x x x

The descent was far too abrupt,
rudderless and reeling,
he dropped down,
like a missile, blasted out,
and none heard the fierce thud!
 Mar 2018
Miracle Beyond Me
My father died in his sleep.
My heart filled with gratitude,
and I touched the ashes of
his remains without hesitation.

I walked close to her - the curvy,
tanned girl who raised her naked
leg. I walked closer to her, claiming
the comfort of our naked kisses.

I have done these things, brave,
only to extent that I was reassured
by the anonymity of loves conflagration.
You have done these things as well,

and so we are instructed-

      If your going to stand,
            stand tall, and light.
      If your going to fall,
            fall heavy.
      If your going to pray,
            call to heaven
            with all your body,
            all your beauty,
            all your sorrow,

      and know.
 Mar 2018
WL Schuett
Strewn with age old sorrow
Of the poor and the helpless.
Listening to church bells
And children’s voices
On the wind .

Descending into the swirl of haunting melodies.
Reminiscent of smoke
And darkness .
Her hair was kindled beneath
The aria of dawn .

She celebrated the pleasures
Of the flesh
Of religious lurid rites
Of lusts eloquence.
She wept for the lost magic
In a waning light
Of a primeval forest .
Before trees and fire
Had names .

She searched for a lost
Secret language
That would unlock
Her mysteries.

She carry’s an implacable
Sorrow from childhood.
Her truth was deep
Introvert able sadness.

There was no sacrament
This day ,
No absolution.
Only a rose on fire .
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