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 Jun 2016
Dark n Beautiful
A treacherous heart set its mark

My beautiful lips you long to kiss
became the daffodils in springtime
As it slowly, unfolded by the sound of his Tenor voice.
I remember him, but I never remember his ****** touch

All poets are not romantic, but our poems can
creates a romantic setting, allowing us to see and feel
the words in each line.

A famous writer once wrote.
Have a heart that never hardens,
and a temper that never tires,
and a touch that never hurts.”—Charles Dickens


The mind, body and soul havoc the hearts
into believing that our love is worth fighting for
my caramel exposed **** reveal my darkest secret
my ****** quest was answered.

"while nibbling my ear he whisper my name
the sound of his voice, command my heart to accept love
or was it was the feedback from those dilated eyes?

the thoughts of his hand caressing my inner thigh
his hot balsam breath, working the curve of my neck
breathing life into the foreplay: my imagination of his
tranquilizing earthy cologne made me sigh with relief;
that set me drunk with desire, with the deep power of joy

We cannot quench the thirst without our vision, our heart, our life,
Or our passion, restoring our relationship wouldn’t be answered
 Jun 2016
phil roberts
When I was still young and fresh
A million years ago
I walked on edges
Always on the edge of something
Something wild

Bright lights and long nights
Lots of laughter and music
Always music
Singing with the band
Dodging the flying glass
When fights broke out
Howling to the moon
Oh, wild indeed were we

All shadows now, alas
Visions from an addled brain
Pubs, clubs and smoky dumps
Leave no turn unstoned was the cry
More fun than fundamental
And fundamentally flawed, it was
A couple of hours sleep 'fore the day job
With eye-lids stuck together
And walking into walls
But still I wouldn't have swapped it
For all the strait laced straight faced
Wealth in the world

                                 By Phil Roberts
Faith in the tempered evening , for the Friday night reverberation -
of hometowns just over the Shamrock green horizon
For the day end Amber-glow of well kept -
Summer gardens
Blessed is the power of tonights Harvest Moon
The Suns early dedication to the Chattahoochee flora of the coming June
For morning dew prisms that ignite rolling hayfields
For talking Indian rivers , Railroad townships and period Flour Mills
Copyright May 26 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Jun 2016
James M Vines
Woven of strips of wood, and set on a table somewhere. A simple item that was made with such love and care. To some it seems a simple thing, but oh the stories it could tell. How it held flowers for a sick loved one and help that person get well. It once carried home made bread, on a lovers picnic. It was filled with colored eggs one Easter as it was filled to the brim with the excitement that went with finding them. The plain and rather ordinary basket, has been many times to a garden, where it was used to pick fresh vegetables to carry to someone in need. It has been a play pen for kittens and a place to keep pencils and pens. Such a simple thing a woven basket, oh how useful it has been .
 May 2016
Onoma
When life
leans in to
get a better
look at you,
what feels
violating
transforms
into acceptance.
 May 2016
Keith Wilson
My  next  door  neighbor
as  just  died.
I  knew  he  was  dying.
But  it  still  came  as  a  big  shock.
I  was  just  thinking.
Life  is  so  fragile.
You  can  be  snuffed  out
at  any  given  moment.
R.I.P.  Norman.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016
 May 2016
Ann M Johnson
How many times have plans been carefully made
then drifted away when faced with the problems of
real life.
Contentment can be found when giving up on previous plans
and taking things one day at a time and living in the present moment.
After all, I don't know what joys or sorrows tomorrow will bring.
I am currently on a medical leave from school so I need to live in the moment and take life one day at a time.
 May 2016
Sk Abdul Aziz
Earlier i could bask in the sun
And feel the magic of the winds
In the past few years many high-rise buildings have come up near my house
And as a result i've now been to some extent robbed of my share of the sun and the winds
 May 2016
SøułSurvivør
Worry* is a scurvy rat
It is a man's main bane
It chews on your self esteem
It nibbles at your brain
It will take your precious time
Your energies will claim
It will hobble your very life
It will make you lame
You may try to capture it
But that is all in vain

Doubt is like a cancer
It eats at your bones
It takes breath from your very lungs
It turns your mind to stone
It makes you feel incomplete
It makes you weep and moan
Under it's all-nagging pain
You will retch and groan
It is resistant to all cures
And you cannot atone

Fear is like a little death
It turns the heart to straw
It strikes like a rattlesnake
With poison in its maw
It's like a fascist dictator
Who makes the harshest laws
It can take your greatest strength
Make it pernicious flaw
Like a sadistic doctor
With a large chainsaw!

How can a person battle
Worry, Doubt and Fear?
How can our lives get better?
How can we have cheer?
Jack Daniels has no answer
It's not Budweiser beer...

It may be elusive
At first just like a wraith
But once you have a hold on it

The answer is our *FAITH.*



SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/27/2016
Found the beginnings of this poem earlier while I was looking through some boxes (I'm cleaning an old storage area).
It showed promise so I started working on it today.

This cleaning project has been taking up a lot of my time. Hopefully I'll be able to get back on the site over the long weekend.

May you be blessed this Memorial Day!

-
 May 2016
jane taylor
running
deliquescing into nature
i am engulfed in stillness

i encounter a deer as i round a corner
its chestnut eyes intensely sense
something wild within me
transfixed
we meld palpably
whispering our essence

myopic views warp into acute focus
golden flowers stretch and arch
and yawning into the sun
swell with bursts of luster
whilst violets polka dot the path
with lilac luminescence

dead tree trunks
mutating into masterpieces
yearn for new life
drawing in the squirrels

yellow-bellied birds
hover
sensing my motions
whilst woodland winds undulate
pine scented waves of sea salt oceans

my ears enchantingly enhanced
by bristling leaves caressing trees
as scintillating amber butterflies
dance in synch
with the clock tower’s
ancient chiming

a gust of wind
catches a patch of sand
and sends it quivering
fusing high in summer air
then falling soft as feathers

hidden fairies prance about
answering unheard questions
problems dissolve in emerald meadows
without a hint of striving

essays write themselves
upon my mind
poetry flows through me
wings of meadowlarks
trace my face with nuances
interlaced with connotations

rushing home
i write it down
then bowing i take credit
for what was etched upon my soul
by a sunbeam in the forest

©2016janetaylor
 May 2016
Happynessa
At times the emotions we keep inside
Seem almost too much to bear
Anger grief loss and guilt sometimes
Stay and refuse to go away
Until the only option is quiet despair

But somewhere from deep within your
Soul comes the sound you've waited for
And your swollen tearful eyes look
Upwards to see that chunk of light
That leads you to your place of peace

Keep looking my dear friend and you'll
See it's really there waiting for your
Gentle eyes to see life again in all its
Magical glory and its light will lead
You to the healing power of your soul
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