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 Apr 2017
Seán Mac Falls
.
Her languid voice
Drew me in, drooped,
And tentacle hair wrapping,
My feet fell before hers,
Sinking in the faraway lost pool,
The mortality in the sands,
And even the stars, snuffed
Out of darkness and fire
Became the light of the world,
The hushed day breaking
With welling waters and salt.
How can dream be lived,
Within dream?  Must I swear
As I fall into bliss?
 Apr 2017
shåi
one with the riptide
the wilderness like her muse,
docile like a doe

rolling waves pull her in
her hair, swept like the rippling current,
its embrace against the moon

(b.d.s.)
im very proud how this haiku turned out
masks of beauty
shooting at the moon
sweeping arrows
saddle the tunes
i cruise for nests of honey
set in diamond casings
situated among the flowers of yesterday’s
paparazzi
sages sneer at pimpled teenagers
future primal actors in the dreamtime
see me in this humidity
drier than a cactus
standing out like prickly pear flowers
and nopale sandwiches
made from green shoots and stems
our splendid appendages brought forth
oh the void
in mayhem’s embrace we chase the testament that
makes no mistakes
and never defiles them
grace is a carpet
a sheep skin in the winter
seminars of laughter barren like your refrigerator
sheet rock stallions
stand firm against the oppressive shields of bureaucracy
i see candle light dinners waiting for the masses
to matriculate from kindergarten
 Apr 2017
ghost man
the way clouds swirl
like milk in grey tea
when it rains
 Apr 2017
Kevin
is he homeless or on a mental health hunger strike?
is she homeless or addicted to feeling more than her existence?
is he homeless or a veteran that fought an unrequired war?
is she homeless or a forgotten child from a long line of abusers?
is he homeless or an item thrown away from within a pyramid scheme?
is she homeless or someone kicked out of her home because she
can't decide whose mouth she's going to feed?
is he homeless or looking for God amongst us?
is she homeless or trying to keep herself together?

we only know they're homeless
and that's good enough for most of us.
behind all of our appearances lie an unimaginable amount of unheard stories. they've been told, but people, en masse, refuse to listen; or at least refuse to act. be kind to all. show them love like you would your valued tribesman. it's amazing what only a little love can do.
 Apr 2017
Kelly Rose
She is moonbeams
And dappled sunlight
Renewal and
New beginnings
Gracing the land
With fragrant blossoms
Buzzing bees
And dandelion flurries
As children play
In Spring’s garden
Blowing happy bubbles
And laughter floats
Touching the heart and soul
She is Mistress of Spring

Kelly Rose
© April 1, 2017
 Apr 2017
-
V
so today we ought to write for the things that are undervalued and i immediately thought of you.

you, with whom greatness lies but never soars because you don't believe in such. you, where the yin and the yang meet and calmly settle. you, whom the angels brought to mankind as a blessing. you, the love of my life who cannot love thy self.

you, yes you,
you're important
 Apr 2017
Pagan Paul
.
If you happen to find a poet
hiding shyly beneath a stone.
Gently put him in your pocket
and carry him safely home.

Show him love and kindness,
take time to get to know him.
And if you smile so sweetly
he will gladly pen you a poem.

For if you hold his real value,
and recognise his true worth.
He'll look deep into your soul,
to give you the sun, moon and earth.

© Pagan Paul (05/04/17)
.
Some people know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
PPx
.
 Apr 2017
betterdays
we sit at the edge of
vespertide
listening to the chorale
of evensong
this day's opus almost done
now tapering off in
slow melodious decrescendo..
it is the gloaming
and the final flurry of light
glimmers on the horizon

now the night becomes
the diva,
the first star has been wished upon,
the first sattelite too.
and the bass note of the cicadas
builds to a *****, needful hum...

lights go on in little square
patches, and the smell
of barbeque fragrances
the summer night air

under the streetlights
the moths come to dance
a dare each other to touch
the midnight sun...

and in our garden
the rustle of the
tame gone feral
rabbit "bellamy"
has begun...

a hulking grey white
shadow now he lollops
toward the tasty green
carrot-tops...
until the sound of pounding
feet causes him to freeze
considering his position
bellamy chooses discretion
over valour and departs with haste

the wind now has a coolness to it
and the grass grows damp about us
by still we sit enamoured of the changing
slow and quiet about us
the seas whisper secrets
and the birds settle in for the night
excepting those who hunt on silent wings

the stars begin to pop
bright white on the darkening sky
and the crescent moon smile with
a sideways grin...

it is now the darker things come
owls on the wing
spiders to reknit there webs
the big bass frog to sing his song
and the small blood seeker
come with whinging wings

now we must give the night
it's privacy, as we walk inside,
from the pond a series of sounds
means the frog has found dinner
hopefuuly a mosiquito buffet

the vesper tide hath turned
the night is now come.....
Napowrimo....write a nature poem
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