Impeccable Poetry - Part II

Feb 2018

Lady RF - Rosalie Fayad

Only very few people
Truly knew her -
Others never
Took the time.

If they would have been asked
To say something about her,
They wouldn't have been able
To write more than one line!

~ A sad eulogy.

Lady R.F. (C)2018

Feb 2018

L B

Mechanic

She didn't care much
about the ruined stuffing
of the dead animal
Just the music box
exposed at its heart
like a cypher
of brass-colored keys
plinking away at itself

--a player piano* in someone's basement
to impress, entertain
less affluent
cocktail friends

Never took much
to sweep her away--

like the insides
of a music
box
resisting
curious fingers
to speed it up
or slow it down
learning how
to force
its secret
into her hand

Marveled when it skipped
at the broken pins
a minute glitch
finds holes in tune

as roll uncoils
to spring the ditty

“This girl has mechanic's ability”

Forcing mechanisms
noticing holes that catch at music
slowing
slowing to sadden the song

Winding it up to hear
again--
happy

Tears when it stopped

--the question
of why?
of its own accord

Thanks to Wordinthewillows, whose poems, The "Onyx Phonics" and "Angel's Share,"gave me the idea for this.

*Player pianos, working similar to music boxes, played a variety of songs when you switched the rolls inside. I remember being fascinated that no one was actually playing, and the keys moved by themselves.

Feb 2018

Lady RF - Rosalie Fayad

❤ Always ❤

I will always look up to you,
And admire you,
Just as I do
The magnificent stars
In the magical night sky.

~ Always.

By Lady R.F. (C)2018

Feb 2018

Randolph Llewellyn Wilson

The Streetlight ...

Good evening streetlight
You've been promoted to a star
Your white light shall bathe this -
planetary cul-de-sac come dusk
The asphalt and grassland inhabitants will journey -
from afar , attracted to your beaming , -
mind consuming elegance with eyes -
wide open an mouths ajar
The katydids and crickets will chatter jealously as the -
moths and mayflies endlessly circle
Tree frogs will perform concertos in thy name
Aviator grasshoppers will annotate thy location -
across the great magnetic plane
Your benefactors will sing your praises
Poems and stories will tell of your divine -
energy and grace* ...

Jan 2018

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Creek

Fear waits upon its prey
where the light is a shamefaced girl

wind is a fragmented guest
where silence fools the unwary

to chirp the birds forget
where the baiter might be the bait

the hush is not all white
as in that ever ruling night
blood is spilled without sound.

Forlorn as the lovers' lost track
meanders the creek
in moans for the lost
shedding its sighs to the tides.

Sunderbans, January 28, 5pm

Jan 2018

Sally A Bayan

My Mornings

A mix of hushed voices, blend with
loud sounds, and slowly slip into
the early hours of the day...

outside my room,
.......shrieking has waned
spoons and forks and plates and glasses
are quiet...the rush, to finish all before 6:00 am,
is done........footfalls from black-shoed feet,
echoed.......and faded with the wind
...no more school bus motors revved, yet,
the dogs are now playing roughly...and noisily
distant roosters, are doing their thing nonstop
....the latest news from the radio plays,
........a cellphone rings loud
the dryer spins clothes continuously
..pots and pans hit the stove burners
...tap water flows, splashing in the basin,
water from the hose touches leaves,
.......and the graveled ground
...but, according to my ears and my eyes,
it's a normal morning...the atmosphere, subdued...
suspicions arise when cacophonous sounds
are not heard......something could be wrong...

this being composed in the midst of noise
this unique silence in my rowdy mornings,
......never fails to enfold me......

Sally

Copyright January 25, 2018
rrab

Jan 2018

Lauren Ehrler

still

Another time I'd write and write
About the world's spite,
My lack of life,
The loss of fight

I sit endlessly thinking,
Writing,
In my mind
As I grind
The little gears in my head

Wasting away is my great fear
Yet I sit here,
Absorbing no knowledge

I hate who I am,

A pathetic use of space
I try to move, I try so hard.
But stay a still lumpy rock
While people knock
And push and pull.

Their words lurk like vultures,
Trying to pick at my pieces.
Churning me up like cream
Waiting for a scream,
A shout,
A call to myself.

But how can I move outside of this cell?