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 Sep 2014
Nat Lipstadt
I don't like deleting certain emails
for the simplest of comforts
seeing the sender's name provides,
they are...

a hot tea on a "still sick"sick day,
an unexpected "how are you" inquiry,
or a late summer blossom,
a lavender Rose of Sharon,
shockingly discovered through a
country kitchen window on an early fall day,
or a poem born effortlessly,
it's existence unbeknownst to its creator,
just minutes earlier, unaware of its arrival,
just like this one...

or not deleting a newly gifted photo,
uncovered while closing one's eyes
past the midnight hour when
the old day hands off to the newly born incoming,
sending yourself off to bed
with a smiling chuckle;
of a young child's first day of school photo,
her plaid skirt and black patents,
a cherry-topping smile radiating hints
of both a pleasured future, a happy home,
and a growing-up maturity earned
from a third summer marked upon this planet...

so I keep that  email and that photo
handy-filed so they are stored,
fresh faced in my inbox or screen,
a friend's name, now a symbol of caring,
a child's photo, emblem of a kind of love,
that parented this poem, so that happily both *****
the armor of the commonplace
of both the everyday,
and the unforgettable world weariness
of having been there years before when,
when the mind sudden recognizes the new day's
sad refrain, sadder name and its most
saddest anniversary and these
disparate comforts,
both say, rest easy friend,
and now off to sleep...

2:31 am
Sept. 11, 2014
on 9/11, I was working in very tall office building at the very tip of Manhattan, about a mile as the crow flies, from the World Trade Center buildings, with "perfect" views of all that transpired that day...
 Sep 2014
K Balachandran
Eating mushrooms, to her is yet another art
she loves to perfect, in my ear she whispers
with such visible pleasure,"I want to be a connoisseur in this"
Her studio smelled herbs and wild flowers of inner forest,
brought me back to the cardamom and cinnamon garden
I played in my days of boyhood; spices build a  bridge for us.

More of a herbalist than a paint smelling artist, she seems,
mounted on the wall on irregular fashion were the mushrooms
she painted with a passion rare, and a precision mirroring life;
the paintings  brought her past in to the studio, only trained eyes
would discern the cryptic symbolism, a consummate artist she certainly is!

 The woman who smoked cigars in succession and untiringly danced,
she said was her favorite, along the lake front we took a long walk
comparing notes;  there were parallels that met, we found soon enough.
"You too knew her so well, I am aware", she said. A room filled with smoke
where we dance, make love, grow tired, fall down and sleep, wasn't it our life?
No one can miss the signature smell of her dense cigar smoke on my dress!"

I loved the smell of cloves she exhaled while eating mushrooms.
though detachment she pretended, eating mushrooms never was that!
I kept looking down at her eyes, a sailor about to sight the land,
any panting moment that rushes with a monsoon song for me and her.
 Aug 2014
Marian
My smile is ever so slowly ephemeral
My iridescence is becoming opaque
I feel languid from day to day
My broken heart is imbued with pain
There is no elixir for the loss
The hurt is so great at times
My eloquence is laced with somber thoughts
I am efflorescent without my petals
I am demure and brood at night
I feel so woebegone
No one--nothing can take away my pain
I cry tremulous sobs in the corner of my room
By candlelight I pen my tales
My epiphany is heartbreak
Someday I will let go of my pain
But for now I will grieve
And regret the day when I said my last adieu

**~Marian~
A Poem Written Especially With
My Mom Hilda & Dear Friend Maria In Mind!!! ~~~~<3
This Is Dedicated Especially For Them
But It Is Also For Anyone Who Has Experienced
The Loss Of A Loved One At Anyone Time In Their Life!!! ~~~<3
Sorry For The Big Words...But I Wanted To Include
Them Inside This Poem...!!!
Please Enjoy It!!! ~~~~<3 :)
God Bless All Of You, Dear People,
Who Have Been Through These Sorrowful Journeys...
It Is Never Easy To Loose A Loved One...
But Know There Is Someone Out There Who Cares
And Deeply Sympathizes With Your Grief...
(That Person Is Me)!!! ~~~<3
Thank Y'all For Reading This...
I Appreciate It!!! ~~~~<3
 Aug 2014
Nat Lipstadt
for M*

never been good at it,
picking jobs, careers, wives,
was not one to
outline the steps,
to goals I could not
speak or define

so I bumped this way and that,
knocked down, dusted off, and
meandering, restarted and may,
unexpectedly,
have to do it
once again

once grooved,
let myself be fooled
by myself,
the best ole fooler I trusted,
that my track,
breeze to the back
was bumble free, straight,
planed and planned
and though accidentally,
what the heck

of course it never is...

you could write it all down,
the before, the softer,
the after, the harsher,
and the middle muddle
of visions hazy,
when you are too lazy
to engage

and to those of you
who see it clear,
on yellow pads and blue lines,
write down step one and two,
god bless you

Know though

there is no such thing
as free and easy
from the curves
that come up fast,
so fast that they
strangle you
near to death
or even past it

you can't imagine it,
I know, you can't,
and those who can,
likely no longer need to imagine it

but when you dare do,
clench eyes and make that ugliest rare bird
come to front and foremost
come to mind, you make it
fly to disappear,
to rarefied air,
where it,
you beg stay

and you do some good,
stupidly think you've collected
celestial brownie points that will
preserve and protect,
but in a flash bang
they have expired
just before the when you
needed them most

so go about your business,
but make no mistake,
others are going about it too,
their surprises the kind that
long term planners call disruptive

sure be sensible,
have a nest egg, a will,
good neighbors if you can,
top off the liquids
that life requires to
make the machinery run silent

work hard, pay attention
to the subtle changes
in your environment,
even hurricanes have a season,
and may you have a
go-bag in a closet,
gas in the tank,
for those days that are the
inevitable
works-in-process

but the only long term plan
that will you true require,
the one thing that will
save your neck,
chance you a chance
to defeat the unforeseen,
is not of paper, steel,
or money green,
it is character

I won't define it. You know it,
You make and or destroy it.

every day set some aside,
climb into night bed,
and recall the empathy
granted and given,
and from that,
build your own storage unit
for it won't be a mere rainy day,
but hail and volcano that will
leave you questioning existence

justify why you daily breathe,
and then exhale,
and say,
I go on
for I am of worth

this is long term planning,
survivor's insurance

This the only way to survive,
the days of reckoning
that you cannot reckon,
the days of wreck and tumult

but if you possess
character,
you will go on

ok, ok
what is character?
why it is that exact moment
when overwhelmed by the tumult,
you acknowledge that nonetheless,
you have the what and the wherewithal
to make it better
for someone else.
 Jul 2014
Paula Lee
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Call this assurance if you must;
But when it's time to say Farewell
To one you love, it's just plain hell.

There are no words, no healing balm,
To fill the void, to ease the calm;
And not a thing that one can say
Will drive the quick hot tears away.

We look upon the empty chair
And seek the one no longer there;
And so heartbreaking is the pain
We question if we'll meet again.

How grim indeed, if death should be
The Bitter End--- Eternity;
Just some vague dream conceived by Man
And not a part of any plan.

But God has taken such great care
To note the sparrow in the air;
His Love alone can cover all
And Mark a simple Sparrows' fall.

And if he cares for the birds that fly,
then he must hear My Anguished cry;
"Dear God, I yield my grief to Thee
For Thou alone can comfort me."
To Everyone who is struggling with Grief
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