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 Dec 2016
Arthur Vaso
Where there is darkness
There are no words

Where there is a void
There are no words

Where Oceans touch the skies
There are no words

Where fusion turns back time
There are no words

Where angels gaze
There are no words

Where tears mix with blood
There are no words

Before the explosion
There existed a litany of  beautiful words

That lay by the way side
Unused
A second version by the same title.
(I)

Pale mulberry was the sky,
No bird dared to fly!
Thus all seemed wrong,
But then, you came along
Suddenly like summer rain
And quelled away my pain.

(II)

Velvet blue was the sky,
No bird dared not to fly!
Thus all seemed right,
And as pure as a cloud in white,
When suddenly like the rainbow,
You quelled away thy heavenly glow.

(III)

Dark grey is the sky,
No bird seems to ever fly!
Athwart my wild blue yonder
Where I, indignantly do ponder
Night and day wondering why,
We can't give it just one more try.

(IV)

Pitch black is always the sky,
But, faster than any bird I'll fly!
Swifter than a scudding cloud
Whilst calling upon you so loud,
All the way to a strange plain,
Just to ever feast about you again.

(V)

Magenta magic will always be the sky,
When once again we'll merilly fly!
Then, flowers once again shall bloom,
To see you and me as bride and groom
By a placid Mulberry Moon on the rise,
To kindle our enchanted paradise.



©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
1st December 2016
***!!! Can't really believe it that among the myriads upon myriads of beautiful poems here at HP, this poem has turned up the daily. Thank you so much dear friends to have catapulted me to stardom for the second time...I'm really all gratitude.

#Retrospection
#Nostaligia
#Lonesome
#Craving
#Wishing
 Dec 2016
Olga Valerevna
our ladders aren't made of
other people that we climb
the ones we like to bury
with the passing of the time
we play with all their thoughts
like an entitlement we own
and make ourselves the thieves
of any chance of letting go
I know we're only human
but we're capable of more
than holding onto to tragedies
some other people wore
your skin is only loyal
if you choose to give it up
to everything you cannot see
but blindly choose to love
mother.
 Dec 2016
Jonathan Witte
So the Violets lived
in the long shadow
of a slaughterhouse,

separated from death
by cyclone fencing
and a scrabbly yard.

In summer, family time
meant sitting on the porch
drinking cans of Budweiser.

It took about a six pack
each to mask the smell
of cow and diesel fuel,

but the rumble of semis
and the relentless lowing
of cattle were inescapable.

In winter, woodsmoke
filled the small rooms,
slowly turning the walls

the color of ***** snow.
Icicles hung from gutters,
lengthening like knives.

The youngest Violet daughter
grew up, moved to Louisville,
and became a painter of vivid

abstracts.

I have one of her paintings
hanging on a wide white wall.
I like to pour myself a Scotch

and watch the mangled colors—
brilliant viscera sullying
a slaughterhouse stall—

the smell of peat and smoke;
the taste of earth’s undoing.
 Dec 2016
screamingnighthog
You have lost faith in me,
I can see it in your eyes,
Hear it in the distance of
Your troubled voice,
Feel it in the loss of heat
In your touch.

You have lost faith in us,
And wander blankly
Amidst the days
Going through the motions
With no purpose
No passion
No hope.

May ******* them,
But they tell the truth.
The knowing whispers
The "I told you so "
The "We warned you"
You hear from every side-
From those I loved because
They loved you.

They are right
And I am wrong.
I took your life by
Slow degrees-
Destroying your life
By my very presence.
Subjecting you to a life
Of neverending toil
To simply stay a step ahead.

Your brightness has
Dimmed and fades
More with each
Passing day.

You do not deserve this
And never have.
My selfishness has done this
I cannot bear the thought of losing you
But I cannot do this-
I cannot destroy what
I love more than life itself.

The darkness
The possibility of
life without you
Now visible
And very real
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