Impeccable Poetry - Part II

Aug 26

Rob Rutledge

We are old friends,
This void and I.
Our paths would cross
From time to time.
Pupils both of the abyss.
Kicking rocks into the chasm,
Skimming stones across the mist.
Like all old friends we parted
Started ways that are our own,
Though we pick the path we tread
We do not own the road.
You took the turn to summer,
I chose the way of snow.

Those who walk in winter know
Warmth lives within the cold.

Aug 20

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Spaceship

He doesn't remember anything.

The dotted boats on the sea,
birds peeking from the bush,
a smiling ******* a valley,
a couple with a baby in the bus..

The places, years, situations
he looks at with a snug vagueness.

But he revisits them calmly
happy in the bliss of not straining
to remember.

The spaceship he boarded with them
is now cosmic dust.

Let them be left in that capsule of time.

Jul 5

Pagan Paul

Jazz Poem

The melancholy sound of a trumpet seeks refuge in the night,
as a snare is brushed gently and cymbal tapped light,
the far away strum of a guitars soft dreamy strings,
playing the music that compliments what a lone voice sings.

Cigarette smoke hangs heavy like fog on the old river,
the ****** sit at the bar sipping bourbon hand delivered,
the romantics dance on a floor that whispers charms,
planning their moves with the lover held in their arms.

The street light barely penetrates the grubby glass,
the bar winds down as yet another night goes passed,
customers sway at tables as they embrace a cloak
of the heady scent and high effect of marijuana smoke.

#jazz #atmosphere #moody

Jun 1

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Renewal

Words are worn out
till we repolish
to repeat anew.

10w after a long time

Jun 2023

Rob Rutledge

Death of a Butterfly

Under a sullen, unloving sky,
Caught off guard by the searching rain,
She flees to shieldlike canopies.
A pilgrim on the path of shadow
Ever tethered to the flame.
Enslaved to the way of fire
Sycophant of the eternal blaze.
Condemned to spend the end of days
Wandering wastelands of the Sun,
Forever exiled from the shade.

In the darkness she would remain,
If only she would have her way.
Cocooned in shells of memory
Fogs of war,
Ill explained.
Though the forest chatter
Never quite sounds the same,
The pitter patter
Pauses,
Secrets encoded in the rain.
Her frail wings lay broken
Breath comes barely when spoken,
Offspring away upon the wind.
Though they took no time to notice
The darkness roars forth and shows us

We have our own fires to attend.