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What was that. A knock?
Sssh!
Listen.
I heard something.
Was it the wind, scratching across my pane?
The pine tree branch thumps its fingers.
Squirrels, racoons and mice scurry over my roof.
My porch light is a beacon of revelation.
The doors are locked against friend or others.
I will wait.
Fall asleep.
Dream.
A hut on an island in the blue,
No ghostly memories.
 3d
Sera
Nothing bloomed with the steam from my tea, nothing came from the soft river mist
the colours of new flowers
I was all out of stories

fragmented
I was swept away with flotsam and jetsam
on the white snows of waves above azure

the sun shone warm and bright
but it did not touch my skin

the wind blew softly
but I could not feel it stroke my hair

flowers blossomed
but I could not see their lilac or bluebell
detect the jasmine, hyacinth in evening air

I could feel the ice in my heart, creaking and breaking
the picture fades to black and white
gone in the morning
so the story ends
so the story ends.
 7d
Sera
To be adored
for my flawed and imperfect self
by another creature

an early summer meadow
flowers dancing, a soft breeze
the key, buzz of bees
to paradise, a soft grey dove
love, in flight, silver
in the dawning light.
 Apr 26
Valsa George
Why the thought of an impending death
Stubbornly clings to me from time to time
As icicles hanging from the trees
Sending chills up through every neuron
I hear their empty rattle in my head
As rabid dogs barking at nothing
Though Shelley was full of praise
And hailed Death and Sleep as brothers
To me it is not so and will never be

Not that I am afraid to die
Nor my absence will shake the Earth out of its orbit
But it makes my thoughts break into fragments
And I find it hard to piece them together

Even if I die, my children will live as before
My husband might seek another partner
Or might pass to a new celibate state
They will never be benighted or tempest tossed
And eventually my memory shall fade
Fade away without a trace from all hearts

As I walk through the winding road
And the closer I come to the terminal
From where there is no more treading
And as time pulls the blind on my life
When the curtain falls finally and my play ends
I don’t want to leave this stage
Nor want to lose my hold
Of those hands I love and care
There are gifts still to be opened
And newer avenues to be explored

Oh, I am in love with this world
To be more true, with narcissistic ardor
I am in love with myself
I know how dangerous it is to be addicted to love

So Death, carry me in my sleep, if you must
Or sweep me away by an inundating tide
Unawares into the ocean of Eternity
Like a feather blown away by the winds!
(Inspired by the Poem- Do Not Go into that Goodnight by Dylan Thomas)
 Apr 18
Solaces
The black night sighs...
High moon sings silver aura songs..
Lunar inferno overdrive..

Below the trees..
Cool starlit breeze..
Like beautiful silver dreams..
 Apr 18
Valsa George
In the hush of a fading twilight eve
Heard the passionate crooning of a dove
Under the eaves it sat close to her love
What delight, that sound instantly gave

Sudden was the change it could impart
Brought forth a spurt of spontaneous delight
Lifting away all my sadness and regret,
It fell like rain into my lovelorn heart.

The heavens soon turned azure blue
In joy, my heart began to leap
It generated in me emotions too deep
Before me all beauty came into view.

I saw pearls of bright sheen on trees,
Resting wobbly on the edge of leaves
Felt the scent of opening flowers,
Fanned in bouts of wind and breeze

Watched the evening covering in shrouds
And the day paving way to night
In darkness fireflies dancing in delight
And the moon riding in the palanquin of clouds

In the open I sat long like a sculptured figure
Breathing the scent of the perfumed air
Experiencing a new gaiety in profuse measure
My heart brimming with umpteen desire
 Apr 17
Carlo C Gomez
~
Silver water
flowing out from under
moon-less-ness

Beautiful daughter of the stars
dancing in eclipse, remembering
the season of the sun

And how her
calculating love survived
its long hibernation

~

Long lost road
To the old fire station
With a beautiful archway
The fire engines
In bright red
Never knew rest
A drill or two, a day
Fitness parade
For all, to learn to save
Now
No sirens
No calls to attend
The bells ring no more
Snorkels saving lives
Salvaged many a blaze
All gone
Peacefully it retires
Alone
Amidst old walls
Inspired by a photo
If one considers the tesseract  as a worm hole that gets stronger as it traverses the distance traveled time spent to become the clairaudience clairvoyance of astral projection’s existential extremity……..I mean like what is the nature of  exigence exodus’s exponentially extemporaneous.  I mean given that  infinite possibility is the nature of omnipresence’s omniscience and we are but a refractively reflective embodiment  of its integrable form’s extant:   the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy’s trajectory.  
        So I ask again “Is intellectual sentience the catalyst for the evolution of God?”  Perhaps if we all practice zoomorphic zoolatry on the social contiguities of demagoguery the vicarious recalcitrance of its objectified manifest will raise us all to new heights of enigmatism.  
        But no, we are but relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity.  We’re not capable of transmuting  our environment with the imbue in the exude of our emote, despite the concoctions we xenobiotic prosthesis.  We are incapable of interceding en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit.  We don’t amount to the seven five six-y on it to eight.  We are more the four-ness of three given the two-y-ness of one.  The 3D macro of the fecundity of micro’s induction's fertility.  
I submit:  
  
“Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to its progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to its innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of its conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of its relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.”  

And

“As the relative complexity of its interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of its conjunction yet the totality of its ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .”

And

Given the theory of ultimate entropy and the probable cyclic nature of existence……and given that there probably was no beginning so therefore an eternity has already passed, ”I have a theory: This spatiotemporal fecundity, this creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.”

       Yes, it seems that basic gravity has extent on the extremity.  Huge sections of it slowly implode until the compression causes a singularity, or so it would seem.  Who knows, perhaps some of these big bangs have different periodic tables than ours.  I mean why would they all be the same, given that infinite possibility is the nature of omnipresence’s ubiquity.  
       I like to think I cerebral cortex ****** matrix resemble but there’s a vast difference between relative rationality and rational relativity.  Noumenal sentience’s semantic regalia is incorporeity ideology’s platonic proxy incarnate for after all what is the nature of problematic prosthesis to mystic symbiotics?  
       Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation are in order.  The basic fecundity of spatiotemporal telemetry’s virility had an exogamy with the infinite vastness and the inky blackness.  It’s some pretty inimitable stuff, trajectory extant and all.  
       So, back to the tesseract perhaps the creativities of imagination’s immaturities are teleportational  translucence to transcendency  verve.  Then again perhaps we are corporeally preternatural finites and adjunctly  juxtapositional is beyond our metaphysical mystique………I like to think not!!!  Tesseract.
Orthogenesis overtures to ornithology horse feathers! !  Retrospectively retroactive!  The ultimate universally inapplicable weather yankee tools to mule kit blue deally romp's resembla blur.  The Martian Warlord's universally acceptable id conclusion on the enigma's entity.
 Apr 10
Francie Lynch
I'm looking at branches
With baby buds
Waiting to bubble open
Above seeded and fertilized lawns,
Growing lush between our toes,
Soft beneath reclining heads
Interpreting whales and camels above.

Moons rise. Suns set.

Our first home
Was a skeleton with skin shingles;
Floors with no sounds;
Rooms with no emotions.
The car, all shiny and new,
Left an oil stain on the asphalt.

Wheels are turning.

My innocent, wide-eyed believers
Now share the same blameless lies
With innocent, wide-eyed believers.

Suns rise. Moons set.

Don't eat that or drink this.
Roll up your sleeve.

Astronauts blasted off for the ISS
Wearing masks.
Before their return,
We will cut, rake, bag and burn.
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