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 May 2019
Brandon Conway
Soma that seeps
flowing
like little creeks
sprinkling
off the edge
wetting
a tongue outstretched
watering
wilted flower beds
feeding
that pretty head
cycling
arid to wetlands
 May 2019
shamamama
Pull the weeds, plant the seeds
this is what the garden said

choose what stays
choose what goes

be mindful when you do

the silver oaks darken the sun in the mind
trim the trunks, so light may you find

the bindweed traps the heart
clip the vine, free the art

the poison oak stings your delicate hand
let the goats eat these weeds right off the land

the pompous grass clouds the soul in your eyes
pluck these weeds before they set and rise

the deadweed piles darken your spirit
compost the weeds, lighten your merit

plant the seeds of love, hope and color
water with nourishment, fertilize with wonder
and you will warm the heart of another

and then,

begin again,

pull the weeds
plant the seeds
I feel like my garden has been talking to my soul and I want to share the conversation.
 May 2019
A B Faniki
At forty-four years old you’re as graceful as a palm tree;
Grapes, with their lushness, have nothing on your lush body;
A thousand faces light up at the sight of your smile;
Roses for smell, apples for taste, and your touch
Brings warmth. The cosmic rays are dim and lifeless
But the colors in your eyes are bright and alive.
Your neck is like Trajan’s victory column, long,
Elegant and beautiful with the carvings around it
Mona Lisa is pleasing to the eyes, yet mine long
For the viral grace of your ***** and mature curves;
Diamonds with all their glory are not as tempting as you,
with your gray, enchanting hair and laughter lines.
My love is round and plump at four and forty
Years old, with ******* that refuse to sag with age.
This is a sonnet i wrote for all the beautiful women ageing gracefully.
 May 2019
Nadia
Sometimes I need to see the ocean
Taste the salt air and feel the motion
Of the waves and the wind
And the world spinning round
When the chaos is too much
The ocean’s where I’ll be found

If I could take a magic potion
Cast a spell or give devotion
Granted any of the powers
That may possibly be
I would quite ecstatically
Transform to a bird of the sea
 May 2019
Jen
Simple Life
Is what I live
No need to impress
Taking joy in this
It's freeing
Like birds flying
Butterfly landing
Rain falling
Ocean calling
Sand between toes
Sun's warming
Eyes opening
Each day
Beautiful music
Waves racing
Hot tea and writing
Resting as day
Is ******* to dark
Waking to a new day
To realize
The gift is life itself
Restarting with each new breath.
 May 2019
Poetic T
I would be but a lone piece of wood
               floating in an ocean of loneliness.


                           Never gathering on a shore.


But static in an ocean of
                          tides carrying me nowhere.


We may float, but drown slowly in our silence.
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