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 Jan 2017
Jack Jenkins
Sings like a swallow
Hummingbird flutters deftly
Fierce as an eagle*
.....
.......
.....
Who can guess which bird this is? ;)
 Jan 2017
Aeerdna
Maybe it's not about this
Maybe it's not about the way you say my name
Or about the paper planes you wrote our dreams on
And then tried to fly them from your room
To my hands.

Maybe it's not about the songs you played to me
On your old guitar
Neither about the way your laugh would come killing
Every sad minute in my life.

Maybe its not about the way you'd show me the snow and the sun
The rain
And the autumn in your eyes.

Maybe it's not about the way you've taught me
how to fight loneliness
Or how to smile and chase away the demons in my head.

Maybe it's not about any of these.
Or maybe it's about everything.


Maybe it's about the fact that I love you
And
You've never taught me
How to stop this.

All I know is
Paper planes don't always fly
Only my dreams do
All the time.

Away from me
Away from you
Away from us.
 Jan 2017
Sky
Ah...
Talking to you again, seeing you smile, hearing you laugh
is like
stepping into an old library
that was once a favored childhood hideout
Taking a deep breath
and letting the warm scents and memories wash
over me and remind me
How it feels to be content.
Memories stain the paper
and I smile as I read.
 Jan 2017
betterdays
my mind returns
more often now

to those simpler days

when to seek a thrill
was to ride a bike
no handed down a steep hill

where to while away hours
you lay on your back
and counted clouds

friendships were made and sealed
by the fine art of daisy chain production

when others worried about important things
and we spent our dollars on lollies and chips

the time when all wars were fought in one day
then forgotten and forsaken for the next day's adventure

when you went to bed pleasantly tired
and slept with no sword hanging
over your head....

my mind returns
with a fondness
for those carefree days
those moments caught
in the amber of my memory

and sighs, longingly
before coming back
to the here and now
of adulthood.
 Jan 2017
Pagan Paul
.
Once a little boy woke up scared,
crying and calling for his mother.
Once an adult man woke up scared,
crying and calling for his lover.

For the boy there is no answer,
his mother is just never there.
For the man there is no answer,
his lover being just thin air.

You see the little boy is now a man,
who only ever wanted to be loved.
The adult man was the little boy,
who only ever needs to be loved.

So put your arms around the child,
show him love and teach him joy.
And put your arms around the man,
remember, he really is just a little boy.


© Pagan Paul (28/01/17)
 Jan 2017
beth fwoah dream
i.

roses in the dust,
winter-love greys, shadows
of a lost world.

ii.

i was much smaller than i thought
and the sky
a rounded dome,

a cathedral of light
with stone arches

river-green pillars

and the blue-green
emotions
of dream....

iii.

imagination
waited, an
opal star
blown against
the tide.

iv.

all i could see was the
blues and greens
paper blushed,

clouds and watermarks,

watery daylight
like a glistening pool

as if the sky
was a stained window
and there was
no fire,
only a scattering
of light

only softness
of the heart,
only the magics

of its mirror mists.

v.

like maple leaves
fallen in a
stream filled
with moonlight
in the rivery
nets of the soul.
 Jan 2017
George Anthony
i know you deserve the universe
and i'm just a star,
burning bright but burning fast
burning out
a cold cluster collapsing in on itself,
a black hole;
i will **** you in,
bend and break your light
and swallow you whole
'til you're as lost in me as i am in you

i know you deserve the universe
and i'm just a star,
burning bright but burning fast
burning out
a could cluster collapsing in on itself:
i'm not enough.
pass me by, seek your galaxies
it will be enough for me
just to feel you in my orbit
at least once
before i implode.
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