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When moon like an empty plate
mocks the hunger
the famished bones hunt for a morsel.

Clinks of cutlery fires the belly
aroma of meals calls like a melody

there's a table full of happy faces
chewing and chuckling and chattering
picking eating dropping and littering
their plates are full aha never less
food after food over food always
a fire in oven a bed of clean sheet
never they're they're never short of heat
eyes that are heavy droop easy soon
behind tightly shut windows to the moon
.

Snuffed out will ***** out all traces of light
they break into wails rending the night
nothing now moves over the dead town
except the bones with moon as the crown.
 Mar 2020
Traveler
none here
Words run straight through me
all my thoughts
they just appear
systematically unruly
Traveler Tim
when i last met her
her ******* were bursting with seeds
her thighs plump as stems of plantain
and when in the December sun
she dried her hair behind the acacia
i dreamed of lying with her on the grass
drunk in the moaning song from her navel
till the evening drove us cold and old
and darkness stole her flesh from my eyes
and it's almost December again
as she walks with my hands in her
along the field after crop
just tugging my hand once to stop
delicately drawing from her breast
an Agfa snap of two unreal people
in the most unlikely place
looking awestruck into the lens
passing into the evening light
before leaving me halfway
of her cottage and a home.
Those marble plaques in the cemetery
hold no dead beneath them
yet in the rising mists of winter evenings
when night like loose dark pebbles
fall from the sky
can be heard hooves of trotting horses
from the rows of cold white stones
and on nights favored by moon
is visible cavalry in scarlet serge
with pith helmets and carbine rifles
piercing the terror paused wind
with cries of vengeance
mirthful in washing blood with blood
on the fields of Cawnpore
dissolving into marble white stones
steeped in the peace of moonlight.
Sepoy Mutiny (1857)
On 27 June, 1857 in the town of Cawnpore (now Kanpur), India, sepoy mutineers laid siege to a British army encampment reportedly massacring British women and children.
Two days later, a company of British soldiers captured the town and extracted bloodied revenge.
This work is inspired from the time many years ago when I used to spend the evening hours alone at a cemetery in Calcutta where stand the war memorials of the British soldiers killed in the mutiny.
 Mar 2020
Cynthia Jean
Don't believe everything
you hear.
People are being
brainwashed
by the tellers
of tales.
History teaches us
"if a lie is repeated
often enough,
people will believe it."
Let us have
ears to hear,
and eyes that see.
May our ears  and eyes
be open
to the truth.
Not just the tellers
words,
but provable facts.
We must each make an honest
search
for the truth.
Don't
let someone else
do your
thinking
for
you.
May we all
wake
up.

Cynthia Jean
copyright
February 8, 2020
The free ones and the ones who have fates are all mixed together
Tired happy and excited or

Wry, humble, eager.


Paul Anthony Hutchinson
www.paulanthonyhutchinson.com
copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson
 Mar 2020
Carla
Her dress is red,her eyes are too..silver tears surrounded by black and blue. greens and yellows ,fading down her back. Her mind is dark, her hearts gone black. Scars of white across her wrists, arms a pink /purple blend..all the colors and yet theres no gold ,at this painbows end.
 Mar 2020
Ash B Crowley
The gardens of Eden have found a place on earth in the forests of Washington
Moss drips from every bough
Blooms do not falter at the creep of February
The earth is rich and wet with the nectar of life
The Emerald City shines with envy at the lush hues in this wilderness
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