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 Jan 2017
phil roberts
You stumble barefoot
Across thorns
Towards broken glass
Everyday
You fight against the tide
The tide of the tears you've cried
Never going down
Refusing to drown
And all that I can do
Is send my words  to you

                                            By Phil Roberts
To whom it may concern
 Jan 2017
Mary Pear
The sun winks cheekily from behind a thinning cloud
And, like a great golden grin, gilds my day.
White light pulsates on the inner wall of my eyelids -
Mood lifting; warmth spreading; glorious light.
A faint breeze, feather light, lulls;
Softening the edge of the sun's heat.
Time drifts and thoughts linger
On the sumptuous sensation
Of a perfect morning.

A seagull screech brings the scene to life
and, with eyes closed, I look at the moment
and see the sounds arising.
Distant voices in the morning's  chatter and the rhythmic whoosh of waves.
I feel the touch of sound as my heart beat strolls now;
As my mind idly paddles at the water's edge.
I breathe in the tepid air ; it glides softly, slowly through my nostrils
Reflecting the ebb and flow of the sea without.
Rising and falling with the tide's swell.  

Limp limbs lie abandoned on the
Cushioned bed as each breath shallowly lingers, patiently anticipating the next.
No thoughts now.
Just image and sound and the sweet sensation of the intermittent breeze
As I float on a velvet sea of my own making.
We do not have to bleed,
To know that blood
Runs through our veins,

We do not have to cry,
To know that our hearts
Feel all different kinds of pain.

We do not have to be artists,
To know that our souls
Sing to the tune
Of their very own,
Individual, unique song,

Just like,
We do not have to see God,
To know that he has been with us
All along!

By Lady R.F ©2017
 Jan 2017
Ju Clear
All guest are gone
Beds emptied
Wash is on
New year a new me

Stop my vices
For a fitter me to be
My mantra kindness
New year a new me


Yoga my roots
Love my stem
Seeds to grow
New year a new me

The world is ours
Cherish the now
Grow kinder branches
Be the leaves you want to see
New you new year
Pondering the new year
Still smoking
 Jan 2017
Ma Cherie
To search the winter lean and long,
for early signs of coming spring,
on snow sprayed fields now all aglow,
  on every little whispered wing,

Tis hardest in this icy air,
alone with frozen thought,
to seek the thaw you asked of me,
when love was freely taught,

In buds of red I wish to hold,
and not my stubborn,
warming glow,
your spring awaits with daffodil,
beneath the wet and melted snow,

I await you dear with frozen breath
eternally I wait for thee
tis I that seek your stubborn glow
your warmth is what will set me free

I take your mind
to yesteryear
when spring came easy then
to take us back to times we know
to love your way
back home again

In simple terms a simple love
I beckon from my frozen hill
to bring you back here in the spring
and not
against your needed will

I wait for you
I wait for thee
*my Sunny Springtime Daffodil
Hi poets! This is a wonderful opportunity at a collaboration with someone who I respect greatly wonderful poet friend David Hewitt! ❤ I asked and he started,
this is about many things- the willingness to change, the acceptance of waiting, and what it might bring come spring, waiting for love and longing and light, and being patient in the wait...rebirth & a new hopeful sunny year. This poem is everything.. it's hard to explain it made me cry literally. I guess I contacted David for a very good reason! Part of it is this place and the beauty from wherever he comes from and I really truly appreciate David allowing me to have almost creative license with it finishing even though he heard it from the inception. Anyway I hope you are all blessed with beautiful things coming this time in Spring and it brings you close back to home again. I hope you have a wonderful year my poet friends. And I hope you love it as much as we do - many many thanks! ❤❤❤ Cherie and David!
 Jan 2017
True Passion
Words flowing from the pen
Ink creates a story
Sometimes Vivid vision
Deep from within

The moment your eyes past
The words of a fellow poet
You were stung
Never to recover

Love at first sight is not real
Yet here it happened
Given to search each day
Deciding to read what is laid

Your eyes must see
That you cannot express
No reason to hurt
Passions too strong to resist

Pulling away from desires
Brushing them from your mind
Turbulence cannot be avoided
Commitment to another

Reality expressed so easily
Feelings never available before
Does this answer the question
Where do they fit in your heart
 Jan 2017
Onoma
If a soul must have its
night, which it must...
how dark it gather, how
thick it be...what's lived
will tell--to what end?
A directionless break of sound,
as if fled
from silence with a start--
the terrible nausea of having
been, and returning to what
now is, which will be...no
more apparent than the experience of itself, roundly met.
How might a personage bear
the scorn of what means to dissolve
what no longer serves it.
What of life that may be deemed
short, or long...as if never born--
or born to die to what's never been born.
Blind stead, whose dross drapes days in wait of gold.
*First of a series of poems.
 Jan 2017
Micheal Wolf
They say say it with flowers
Or shout "I Love You" in German to scare them.
Actions speak, words don't!
A drunken text means they miss you.
Is there a guide to this ****?
Because there needs to be!!
 Jan 2017
Keith Edward Baucum
Love the wife of Loyalty stands with her husband's arms wrapped around her and her arms wrapped around him in an warming embrace.  Loyalty looked into the eyes of Love and said

"My beautiful, beautiful, wife you filled my heart with joy by becoming my wife.  My world revolves around you.  I will always be there for you.  I will stand by your side and help you chase after your dreams.  I will protect you from all threats."

Love gave Loyalty a squeeze and said

"I too will stand by your side and help you chase after your dreams.  I will be there for you in your time of need or when ever you just want me by your side."

Love and Loyalty looked into each other's eyes and began to kiss.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum
 Jan 2017
Onoma
Window beaded, raindrops gnashing silvery
white, at core--grey sky in each, each to each
a composite of it.
Room....an abstract memory scheme, dull blocks of
color hanging in there.
Afternoon in the middle of itself, January in the
beginning of itself.
Formative limbo offering both its cheeks, the world
entire taking it up on its offer.
Head bows ever slowly, a religion of one in the making.
Do not doubt there are digestive points strewn throughout
days--whereupon one embodies the throes of all creation.
Thoughts...come and go with a reflective quality whose
tonalities divide and conquer what must be static...for change.
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