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 Nov 2016
Lora Lee
Behold!
that drawing in
                 of breath
                         a minty
              entanglement
   of starlit senses
How they curl
       like the opposite
               of smoke
over the very
insides
     of my
           earthen throat
                         crackle of
       autumnal breezes          
whooshing through
like a beacon
And in that
split-second
right before
deep freeze
my molecules
   rise and fall
       in the rhythm
            of snowflakes
each one a
unique entity
   dusting the
            solid soil
                with loamy richness
                    and simultaneous
              feather impressions    
           of relief
Now
like silk draped
alabaster
I am cooled
Like sweet
        river water
  I flow
       rocked by
the slow
churn of
growing freedom
             that alights my pores
arises in tender
stillness
     through the
          looming forests
           of my skin
              penetrates the
                  unseen journey of
                     my night
                 as demulcent
          and persistent
as the balmy petals  
of a
   raging,
fiery
    bloom
//soundcloud.com/musichick-1/sounds-from-saturday-evening

lifting the veil of
heaviness
     and tossing it,
a-blaze,
into the
      black
(Finally :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DeLfCYGReyA
 Nov 2016
Anne Webb
We used to have a tree in the garden ouside,
when I was small,
and I remember watching it slowly grow tall.

So tall that I could barely see,
the leaves on top
of the crown of that tall, tall tree.

And maybe it was trying to reach,
the stars up in the sky,
but how can I be sure if I cannot see that high.

Its branches reaching to the clouds above,
how can I forget,
when its attempts were never enough.

I fell in love with climbing up its branches,
once I grew older,
and right on the top, I watched the stars.
Even if it got any colder,
I still sat there staring at the distant blue sky.
But when we moved out,
of that house with the garden and the tree,
they cut it down,
watching the fall of every last leaf.
 Nov 2016
susan
scrambling for attention
   the masses are
crowded streets
highways
horns blaring
curses spewed
anxious people
hurried towards nowhere
going through the daily
motions
then sitting idle
   come evening
pondering the day
trying in vain
to figure out the way
towards happiness
                        contentment
              peace
and failing miserably
   each
      and
         every
time.
where's the thrill
 Nov 2016
Megan Grace
I think my name would be safe in your mouth.
I wouldn't be concerned about you
misusing it
or putting other names with it.
I trust you
would keep it secure
between your teeth.
There would be no worry
of you spilling it out with vicious words.
I'd be sure that you would treat it with care
and only use it
when the setting is perfect.
And you would sing around my name.
Songs I probably won't know but
that's okay
because my name would be
somewhere good.
I imagine you
would only surround it
with words like
"careful" and "forever"
and "here, take my hand."
 Nov 2016
pj
A year has passed
since I last detached from your very essence.

I have created my own self
without a reflection of you
in every action I made.

Was it hard?
Hell yeah it was.

But it is worth every tears I shed
to cleanse myself from you.

I am stronger,
I am proud to say that,
because I stand back up all by myself,
without your help,
you little *****.
 Nov 2016
nivek
The sky blushes under a pink veil
gently touched by the westdown Sun.
A shy lover escaping into the night
to dream... 'a lovers morning kiss.'
 Nov 2016
nivek
everyday to wait, poised on the cusp
riding the light
riding the light

everyday to ride, to hang on
to allow entry
riding the light
riding the light

everyday to be at peace, to love
to love again, to love, again
riding the light
riding the light
riding the light.
 Nov 2016
Valsa George
My eyes were hooked on to the West
Feasting on the riot of colors the sun had cast
I stood dazed at an experience blest
That any poet would treasure with zest

By chance I glanced at the river below
It moved like an overloaded carriage slow
With floating weeds and ***** *******
Reminding one of an ugly heap of trash

I saw partially submerged bottles bobbing on the surface
Gradually filling with ***** water perforce
And slowly sinking down to rest in peace
With their sunken brethren at the river base

Spill of oil glistened iridescent
On the face of the river florescent
Its water was far from clean
But had turned murky green

On the still surface was a layer of ****
Like rancid butter annoying anyone’s calm
Reeking smell of rotten fish and mulch
Entered my nostrils with an obnoxious stench

I closed my eyes and turned my head
And looked away from the river bed
I thought of man’s callous audacity
In assaulting Nature’s pristine vitality

I heard the river’s rising lament
And me it did acutely torment
Any sensitive soul would be left grieving
Seeing the river in such agony heaving

In the far horizon, the sky had grown into flames
I wondered if Nature was mad at man’s tall claims
Suddenly I saw with the eyes of a seer
That Dooms day is drawing near!
Kerala where I live is  small state in the Southern tip of India. It is supposed to be God's Own Country with its beautiful greenery, geographical diversity and high rate of literacy. But unfortunately, the people have yet to learn how to keep public places clean. As a genuine lover of Nature, I am grieved to see how our rivers which some years back ran like silver strips with crystalline waters shining in sunlight have been polluted with industrial waste and other ******* callously thrown and made dangerous with sand mining ! In matters of cleanliness, our people have to learn much from the Westerners and the people of the advanced countries !
 Nov 2016
Westley Barnes
Roses announce the bedroom clipped from your thought
dilapidated vintage chandelier shakes with light
we might as well make the moment
when it's that cold outside
the mirror glimpses angles that escape our eyes

Daybreak child
would you be my sleepy wonder?
consumed with life

Grey bleeding into blue eyes  shock gives way to wonder
ertswhile Goddess of the night

My angry words have taken the violent locomotive
of the words that fill the books upon your shelf
but that was before
Now lilacs mute the bedlace
the wall's painted sea is our sky

Would you believe all those things I never tell you
or would you spit their underhandedness right back at me?

Mock turtle rhymes the sound your mouth makes when you're giddy
moves lies a breaking sundial
Fingers that are off-white feel to the touch like a promise
And
Now you're a plate spinning on it's side.
 Nov 2016
phil roberts
Hello
It's me again
It's the early hours and I'm slightly drunk
And it's me again

He has the sins of his mind
Which keep him warm inside
Amidst the weary and the wasted
Such warmth keeps him alive

Restless
I've always been restless
I hate to move yet I can't sit still
Hours are endless

There is a thrush inside his head
An agony of wings
Panic beaten thrashing
A cage of singing things

Anxious
Still always anxious
Even though I've slowed right down
This edge is ageless

Laying low and watching
A million sub-plots hatching
Paranoid and paranormal
He scatters to survive

                                     By Phil Roberts
Another old one but, probably my personal favourite.
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