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 Oct 2014
Kelly Rose
Bittersweet feelings
wash over her
The scent of roses and lilacs
perfume the air
Feeling cast adrift
as she walks that tightrope
of knowing and feeling lost
loving life and sorrow
Feeling the distance
between them
Knowing he doesn't
Wondering how to feel
about that
as the fragrance of
roses and lilacs swirl
through the air
and bittersweet feelings
wash over her
10/26/2014
 Aug 2014
K Balachandran
In the gondola bobbing above the waves she sits
like an apparition drenched in  golden morning light
he wishes to elope with, to an island distant
hoping to live there for eons, till they grow very, very old,
defying death that in many forms
they know for certain,
will chase from behind
like a vengeful hound

He sings a barcarole.
to mislead miseries and death,
that fallows, she weeps,
oh! the sufferings love brings to them both!
yet their hearts were too pure, always rejoiced.

The song he sings is on sacrifice for love
on lovers defying conventions
together they ran away to a far away place
but sweet love sometimes brings them
to sudden turns , cruel some times,
they lied down their lives, felled by swords,
for raising the banner of revolt, in the name of love.

From her eyes tears flow uncontrollably,
she sobs, as of it happens to them,
the song, nears it's end,
he is stunned by her overwhelming emotion,
does it portend
something bad?

His barcarole comes to an abrupt end,
what does he see ahead, a volatile crowd,
what is this commotion all about,
would someone please tell?
Are they waiting for the lovers with drawn swords?
Love has found martyrs, unfailingly once more,
Let the waters in this canal in Venice, be red again.
 Jun 2014
Joe Cole
Written a long time ago for a very dear friend.

I have to leave the safety of the house, make a deadly trip
For I must reach the mountain,  ascend its life giving peak
As I start to leave I hear my softly whispered name
And so I turned my darling and kissed you once again
So I turn, leave the house, into the gathering bitter storm
I go with the knowledge that your love
will keep me from all harm
The snow is falling harder, lying feet deep on the ground
My hands and feet are frozen,  I can hardly see or stand
I collapse,  frozen, no longer can I go on
Then I hear your voice call out to me
Take my hand, our love will keep you strong
Yes, I hear your voice but I don't hear a sound
But the love you have for me/ I have for you will keep me free from harm
I finally reach the mountains foot but all my strength has gone
But then your voice I hear, darling I will take your place
for you I'll be the one
I start to climb, weary,  spent,  my life is nearly done
But suddenly the clouds did part, I emerged into the sun
But for you my darling,  I would have left this earth
Thanks to you my love I still have life to live
Probably the hardest thing I've ever written and one of the few times I've even thought about what I've written.  My dear dear friend had cancer and I gave her the will to fight and so I wrote this as though the words were coming from her
 Jun 2014
ns
art
It's hard comparing you to art
But if you were a painting
You would be an abstract
A splash of colours
A spiral of emotions
A series of imagination
A whole new perspective
A picture no one could fathom
That's you
You are art

*ns
the girl lived downstairs
the boy two floors above
through me exchanged letters
of immature hearts in love.

he wrote:

can we meet love for a minute?

handed to me his secret chit
why I came down the girl only knew
his letter brought her a blushing pink hue!

quickly on that same chit
she scribbled a hand girly sweet

she wrote:

I would die to meet you just once
but today there hardly is a chance
papa hasn't gone to office
through this letter I send you my kiss.


I, love's tender messenger
went up with her love letter
as he read it heaved a deep sigh

at home, *******, why?

he wrote:

slip out when he sleeps at three
we meet under the mahogany tree
please love do this much for me
I beg you some minutes only.


thus rhymed two hearts' dancing beat
the boy was too young to fathom it
nothing though he could understand
yet faithfully he ran their errand!
 Jun 2014
K Balachandran
From the top rung of the ladder,
         she slowly steps backwards
seeing me  approach, touch down
        then, like a whirlwind, quickly turns
kisses me full on my lips
           with  such an urgency
love full of passion alone would explain,
          the feast for my eyes for
what seemed a long time, a fallacy of course
         is forgotten by my thankless mind,
but, oh! yes my lips now receive
          the same measure of pleasure,
  as a love potion, with a searing taste.
 Jun 2014
Sarah Michelle
He
nearly died today
because his 30 second-old love
couldn't stay,
The ruby red
bird winged
Merman of His Dream.

His heart attacked
his very own watered lungs,
The tears
which stopped his heart
like a sneeze.

He prayed, "Please."

The hospital bed Lord didn't reply,  and
He felt the plump nurses were
telling him
lies.
Return of the sad, lonely, strange Frenchman of my daydreams.
 May 2014
SG Holter
I move away.
Every motion I make is
That of someone leaving.

I move away,
Like finished dancers; ploughs
Of birds heading to or from

Some paradise or not. I
Move away from excessive
Touching; such caresses turn

Desperate and demanding to
A man whose lovers are gentle
Mountain breezes and whispered

Songs of dry leaves hissing
Like the last breath of
A ancient artist seeing her

Masterpiece through closing  
Eyes; content and, like all things
Living should,

Embracing the dying a slow
Death that Life truly is, and
Knowing it's no place to stay.
Not staying.
Moving
Away.
 May 2014
Louise
Just take me now
I really don't care
this body,  again,
with you,  I will not share

During each and every kiss
you inhaled my soul
then stole even more
when I'd have given it all

So just take me now
this one last time
and kiss me so hard
before I change my mind
Uurrmmm ....  not sure where that came from.
:o-
 May 2014
Vada Opalenik
Everyone hates
a book with a terrible ending.

That disappointment
that settles in on the last page.

My bed is that feeling of disappointment
every morning I wake up on January 1st.

365 pages;
Ending everything with a sorrowful bang.
 May 2014
Liz
The braches of the faint oak were bewitched to a dark gold under
the orange, thick silk sunset. 
The wood, as the sun lowered, changed from apple green
to golden billow
which swept foamy,
rose clouds along a now cucumber, blurry horizon.
Plump plums and fruit rinds
litter ripe walkways alongside the flower beds who's tickled buds
are closing slightly as the fickle sky, gone nine, turns to a majestic
Indian blue and the June monastery's milky swirls are lit by the sugar lump stars.
Just love writing about trees and sunsets!
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