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 Feb 2018
Yue Wang Yitkbel
I finally realize
My dream was never
To break away from
The world
As stardust of
Once upon dreams
Waiting to be reborn
Into the hearts of
A billion souls
That will touch upon the world
As it has never touch upon mine

But to take the storm of the universe
With all of its glorious aches and sorrows
Not for the world to one day remember me by
But just to able to shield one fragile little star
Within the palms of my hands
Savoring the warmth
Of giving all of your love
To a singular seemingly insignificant
Being

To not refuse the world
Or one day
Be a bigger part of the world
But to cradle
A World in the soft palms
Of my callous hands
Giving it all
Keeping it warm
Against the howling wind
Of indifference
 Feb 2018
Sally A Bayan
.....a day's, or a night's inspiration
just walks away
and escapes my mental grasp
an idea, pregnant with possibilities,
suddenly becomes infertile, like
a barren woman, or a wasteland
i try to get hold of it,
still...it glides away, falling along the
edges of my imagination.
i am bereft,
when my muse has left.
::::::::::::::

sometimes,
i eagerly dip, and wiggle my toes
on a sunny blue river that
manifests itself in my mind,
bursting with promises of new insights...
yet, a slightly curving path is hard to ignore
for, it easily presents itself......and
sometimes,
i give in to its swirls of unfulfilled
dreams, and....sublime moments,
hovering, like a hummingbird
quivering...in my own space,
there in neverlandia, where i'm left
pondering, about a life......unlived.
:::::::::::::::
my toe-dipping moments,
my rare moments of serenity,
are short-lived........ruffled,
besieged by old shadows,
because....phantoms of fear
refuse to die.
::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
when treading this curved path,
unwanted, unexpected
circumstances occur,
and, all of a sudden,
my muse emerges from hiding.
inspirations bloom,
like mushrooms,
bolder,
than those that elude(d) me.
:::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
it takes a while,
for love and life
to rhyme.
::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright February 10, 2018
rrab



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
 Feb 2018
Jackie Mead
The sky burned orange, like a fire
When the sun goes then comes the darkest hour
 Feb 2018
MikeTheVike
“I took a Rorschach test”* she lamented
*“Though I admit, it was accidental
A bouquet of Cherry smears splotched on toilet-paper
Through liquid lines and violent streaks
Miraging shards of an eight month Terra-cotta
I saw a dishwater boy
Sifting dirt in a garden
He hid among the tomato vines, smiling behind strawberry stains
Oddly reminiscent of that picture I stole
from your mother’s house
I turned the paper square in my hands
Another child
A young-eyed girl
drowning in a pair of peacock heels
And a floral patterned muumuu
Involuntarily closing her left eye when a laugh turns to tears
You've always said you love that about me
Raw images framed in a sharpie-circled day
It’s permanence displayed on the kitchen calendar
A mind’s-eye mosaic that shattered when
I felt it around my insides
A searing grip, and gravity wins
The porcelain bowl is filling now
Like a bloodroot squeezed from toe to crown
None of my tears could wash away any of the red
And all the sirens came
But the tiny shoes stayed wrapped in tissue paper
And some mornings, not many but some
Before the bluish tint of pre-morning dawn
When the slivers of my thought wake me
I feel that invisible hand
Squeezing a butterfly inside my stomach"
© Mike Mortensen
 Feb 2018
susan
imagination
is a funny thing
and getting lost in the hallucinatory bliss
of a fantasy
may become ethereal

our minds
are moldable
   & viscous
the formation
directed
by a mere thought

   or thoughts...
that sometimes
consume
envelope
suffocate
inhabit
our very soul

floating through
an imaginary world
keeps us lost
   saves us
protects us
from the harsh reality
of what
really is.
sometimes not "owning it" is a good thing
 Feb 2018
Andrew Duggan
Today I changed my sheets in Taiyuan
Nobody asks me how many times I do this?
Nobody asks me how I do it.
Nobody offers to help me change my sheets.

I knew a woman once who listened to Bob Dylan
And said she was ‘wounded in love’
She changed her sheets everyday
I never asked her why.
Just an ordinary moment in my life
 Feb 2018
Poetictunes
Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.
 Feb 2018
Cam
I thought
The straight road
Would be
Fast and
Easy
But it turns out
There's more turns
Than one would think
On a
Straight
Road
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