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 Dec 2015
Jellyfish
I'm tired of being your
- s e c o n d   c h o i c e -
you're always my first.
 Dec 2015
Weasel
Nothin' left but empty pockets
And socks wit holes upon each heel.

All the good fings are swept away
Like a rotten banana peel.

Wit nowhere else to turn -
I turn to God.

Wit empty pockets
And holes in my socks -
I turn to God.

{ Weasel }
Hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading.
Poem 29
© The Weasel
All rights reserved.
 Dec 2015
Weasel
Climbin' up the stairs
People runnin' in mad rush
I tread carefully.

{ Weasel }
{ Senryu. }
This is true. Hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading.
Poem 30
© The Weasel
All rights reserved.
 Dec 2015
katie
If I seem distant it's
because I am.
I abandon this city
like rain down gutters
trying to get back
to a home, a field, a shore,
no traffic, no smoke
where air is pure
& lungs breathe deep,
in a rhythm
untarnished by
tarmac & brick;
modernity's grip
that looks for life
& buries it, forgets
Earth has a pulse
a heart that beats
beneath us.
 Dec 2015
Jackie Wilson
flames of red leaves
burn a trail
through the forest floor,
setting the ground
alight with cold fire.
 Dec 2015
Jackie Wilson
fragile heralds
burst out from a tangle
of green confusion,
trumpeting the morning to the day.
This was written several years ago when I was hospitalized after a diving accident.  Every morning I looked into the parking lot where there were a bunch of beautiful morning glory vines. I'm glad I got a poem out of the experience!
 Dec 2015
Jackie Wilson
a thick syrup of sunshine
spills over a lawn,
chiseling the grass
with spring highlights
to stand in relief
against the anonymous shade.
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