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 May 2016
David Ehrgott
one little poem
can heal a hurt
one little poem
in the pocket of a shirt

a shirt that's ripped
with a spot of dirt
has a poem in its pocket
that could heal a hurt

a hurt can't heal
if a heart can't hear
the words of the poem
that create the cure

the cure for the hurt
it begins with a verse
but you need to read the words
so the cure can be heard

be heard all ye poets
check the pocket of your shirts
and speak of the poem
that can heal a hurt

a hurt can be healed
by the power of a verse
one little poem
in the pocket of your shirt
 May 2016
phil roberts
Strange creatures circle the edges
And their eyes are hungry and haunted
One day their teeth shall glint dangerously
And I know it very well
For I shall be their meat
Though I cannot imagine fear
And I should feel something

Several people are asking me for help
But I shall probably turn away
For uncertainty clings to my head
Like a monkey that cannot be shaken
With claws in my eyes
I try to see my way out
But, of course, there is none
And the demands on my name
Echo where my conscience should be

Passengers come and go
On my endless journey
The landscape is familiar
And occasionally a memory smiles and waves
All too briefly, it seems
I feel I ought to cry more
But nothing seems to hurt as it used to
Only my nakedness makes me cold

                                               By Phil Roberts
 May 2016
Axle Avatari
The highest highs
The lowest lows
At least you know
Where you stand

The sweet bliss of love
The devastating loss of you
Easier to handle
Than the in between

That place with no direction
Up, down, right or left
A cyclone of unknowns
And rampant speculations

The whiplash of emotions
Yes is so very good
No is so very bad
I don’t know crushes the soul

What words to convey?
What do I need to say?
Should I go or stay?
In the in between

Are you my life raft?
Or my boat anchor?
Do I cling to this?
Or swim away?

Heart beating hard
Thoughts running fast
I don’t know how to feel
In the in between

Your words say stay
It’s the words you don’t say
Have me running circles
In the middle of this

What do we have?
Why don’t I know?
Or are you too?
In the in between

What words to convey?
What do we need to say?
Should we go or stay?
In the in between

Here I stand
Hammer in hand
To break down the walls
That stand between us

It can’t just be me
Who needs to be set free
If You and I are to become We
There must be nothing in between us
 May 2016
Eleanor Rigby
Gin
I look up to a pale blue sky
With apologetic eyes
And a heart so very filled
With dim.
Take me back
To the empty box I was
Before I began feeding myself
Gin and jokes of grim.
God, please wash me off my sin,
Or take this foolish thick layer
Of skin.


-- Eleanor
 May 2016
Valsa George
With the peak of spring in the month of May
In the early hours of a pleasantly sunlit day
Two kids sat cuddled on a swing
Feeling as though they were taking on wing

Swinging in the air, they began to sing
Their sweet lay breaking the silence with its ring
They kicked their legs in rising delight
And felt like thistledowns ever so light

Up and down on the swing was fun
They closed their eyes on being face to face with the sun
Felt the swish and sway of the buoyant air
And knew the light tug of breeze on their curly hair

As the air got caught in the frills of their frock
Their eyes gleamed bright in delightful spark
Imagining themselves to be astronauts in space,
An ebullient excitement lit up their face

From a raised angle, they saw the Earth in green folds lie
Watched the surrounding hills standing awfully high
Saw a small stream flowing as a slow moving train
With trees lined up on its banks in unbroken chain

Longingly I watched these children free of all worry and pain
Also their aerial feats, not tainted by any melancholy stain
How I miss these childhood days of innocent fun
As my hours, towards the sunset, quickly run
I envy little children and their care free days......! They leave me immensely nostalgic as I had a joyous childhood in a large happy family !
 May 2016
phil roberts
When your footsteps falter and slip
Hold on to me
If your eyes fill with tears
And the future seems blurred and distant
I'll be there to take your hand
You may not see me
But you'll feel me there
Right beside you
Always
So hold on to me

                        By Phil Roberts
 May 2016
Ree Bunch
As a child I received a special bag.
I started to pack it with useless things.
Over the years it became heavy and unbearable to carry,
Yet I could never leave it behind.
The vibrant colors had since faded,
the pink zipper no longer zipped ,
and a weird musty smell flowed from it;
Yet I lugged it around-
it created a groove into my shoulder from its heaviness-
causing me to cower as I walked.
One day, I grew too weary to continue carrying that bag around.
I dropped that bag filled with regret, worry, low self-esteem, and self hate behind,
Since then I have walked tall; feeling as free as I could be.
My thanks to the store clerk working the midnight shift
God bless the dishwashers at local restaurants laboring for minuscule pay
To the forklift operators moving freight for hours on end ,
to cleaning crews preparing offices for another day
For the plumber protecting health in the wee hours of
the morn
For sanitation workers hard at work well before dawn
Copyright April 24 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 May 2016
A Lopez
Lay me down in syrupy Laugh's
Let me laugh myself to death
Let the shine be on my face
And the dirt beneath my
Fragile toes- upsprout
Through my mouth
Let me blossom like
Daisies in the sudden
Show---- lay me down
By the Riverside
Where a fire is
L-i-t and by and
By my hands will
Reach the morning
Sky's----glimpsing
Into the future,
Forgetting my
Past,no heart to
Be sold, my beats
Draw fast, no more
Emptiness of a vessel,
My veins are the pencils
That sketch the world
Around me.
 May 2016
gray rain
I'm awake all night
I'm awake all day
the restlessness won't go away

They think I'm worried
but I'm not
my thoughts are just tied in knots

confusion lingers in early hours
and continues 'til it's late
As my body starts to abate

The inability to sleep is killing
So I sit and write with ink
And caffeine in my drink

Music playing loud
and I'm waiting to be found
and sleep in silent sound
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