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 Mar 2017
Cné
skimming the feed of poetry
reading the works of poets
liking here and there
without ever a care
some of us rather copiously
we all have our favorites
but the poem is just the beginning
of the start with a spark

if you never look at the activity
you are missing the best part
it's the jam that turns me on
in comments short or long
continuing the song

so don't be offended
of the flame that's ignited
its all rather splendid
to fire the wordplay excited
it's not really a contest
but more of a sinuous ebb and flow
hoping for a laugh or looking to decompress
when you have a day that blows
all of you at hp inspire me
https://youtu.be/ABFtbYKW-QY
The black night’s ebbing tide
erased the only remaining hints,  
the cresting long ocean swells
did not cleanse without a trace.

Adrift and lethargically bobbing
seaweed entangled teakwood box
of water-logged photographs, drowning,
surrendered from the heart of the sea

Like molted wild feathers cast ashore with the tide
to the coarse specks of rasping  sands,
Darwin's dream in an emptied  sea-bubble popped,
dissipated into its own haplessness,
bestrewn about an untrodden seashore  

Washed out snapshots of life’s disregarded minutia  
enchained to an ordinary forgotten Kodachrome moment
left out to the consequences of the ever fickle tides,
abandoned happenstance spilled by chance
upon another undiscovered world

The warped and bloated wooden box encasement,
hoary with swollen furrowed woodgrain s,  
wearied by an enduring measureless moment adrift;

as if an ill-fated message in a misbegotten leaky bottle,
corked with marooned good intentions,
and images of disappearing dreams
flung out shipwrecked in barnacled azure glass
beneath a sky so far away


*someone you used to know
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know
© March 2017
Thank you for reading
.
Curious Brown Thrasher songbird
How I long for your window to the
world , traveling Hill country with wings unfurled , skipping from hardwood to evergreen with songs of splendid countryside scenes
Copyright March 29 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Mar 2017
Jack Jenkins
in the golden skies
rain and sun intertwine to
make rainbows above
Good morning you beautiful people, you!
 Mar 2017
Beth Decisions
Everyone searches for perfection.
The perfect guy.
The perfect girl.
The perfect outfit or haircut.
To be perfect.
To look perfect.
We all want it and seek for it desperately.
I'm one who never believed perfection existed.
All I see in the world is flaws.
I search for beauty and am always left with everything but.
I look at a random face and see every negative feature instead of the positive.
I guess you could say I'm a pessimist to the extreme.
Or atleast I was.
I've recently learned perfection is hidden within every moment.
Because I'll look at you and I know you're perfection.
Not because you look like the perfect human.
Not because you have the most perfect traits one could have.
You're perfect because...
Every flaw.
Every imperfection.
Every positive.
Every beautiful feature you have.
Is everything I want.
When I look at you, I smile and in that moment life is perfect.
 Mar 2017
Sjr1000
he won't shut up
when he's around
he wants to write everything
keeps on formulating phrases
hallucinating
couches into flying carpets
swearing that he's seen
the ground from the sky

The Poet
we never know what he's doing -
turning black sheep
into heaven
he's stuck on the inside
looking out

The Poet
he won't shut up
but when I really need him
he's no where to be found

when he wants what
he wants
in these poems of his
I know I'll wind up
embarrassed humiliated and forlorn

The Poet
when he's around
he won't shut up
he keeps going on and on

And when he's gone
Silence.
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