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 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
 May 2016
Mary Alexander
Are you insane like me?
Do you dream in vivid color, and walk on roads of ice?
Do you live in a mind,
Where nothing conventional would suffice?
Are you insane like me?
Can you hyper focus on a certain pair of eyes?
But only those eyes.
Are you chased by visions of legends and ghosts of loves that will never exist?
Are you insane like me?
With the heart of a lion, and a soul filled with fire,
But still somehow cold as stone with a mind hard as iron?
Unbending.
Are you insane like me?
Do you walk at a different speed than those around you?
Always aware of the chilling fact that your pace is too fast?
Yet aware that the speed isn't caused your physical body,
But more by your soul and the codes hidden in your strangely mystical DNA?
Are you insane like me?
Can you trace patterns in the air with your fingertips?
Can you zoom in and out with your senses?
Can you lose control of your daydreams
And forget of the one who is trying to reach your mind?
Are you insane like me?
And fully aware that a mind like yours is something that cannot be understood or reached?
If so, can I ask you something?

Do you feel alone like me?
 May 2016
wren cole
If I were dead
I wouldn't long to be alive
Until my chest aches and I feel sick
Obsessing over the time I've wasted
Over my broken glass childhood
Which should have been innocent and bright
But instead stained my rose-tinted glasses black
And I haven't the energy to seal the cracks
If I were dead,
I wouldn't be made of broken glass
 May 2016
Paul Gilhooley
Words are a gift we must beware how we use,
We can use them to love, or to hate and abuse,
To be uttered in hope, or to hurl them as curse,
We can place them together as a rhyme or a verse.

Words are a weapon we can use in discord,
As it’s claimed that the pen, is more mighty than sword,
Words can be empty, their meaning be hollow,
Or we can say them in strength, so that others may follow.

Words and their meanings, can so often confuse,
Or their meanings dramatic, with their use on the news,
Their meaning may change with the way we infer,
Do they mean we are hated?  Do they mean that we care?

To me there’s no doubt, that our words are a gift,
We must use them for good, to give others a lift,
If you use them to harm, or to give fear and dread,
Then I think that it’s far better left as unsaid.

We must use them to love, and for comfort in grief,
We must use them for those that are short on belief,
We must use them to settle any quarrel or rift,
And it’s why that I know that their use is a gift!*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013
 May 2016
South by Southwest
Poetry is life in motion , a Niagara Falls of words , a super nova of emotions , cradled on the infinitesimal lines of creation .
 May 2016
Paul Butters
In every “Poetry Place”
There is a Copycat Corner.
We know it’s a disgrace
So here’s another “Warner”.

Why they do it I’ll never know,
Those Copier and Pasters.
Their words they seem to glow,
But they’re a bunch of Wasters.

Taking all that praise,
For stuff they haven’t written,
It seems to be a craze,
And many do get bitten.

Just Google their “fine words” or use those plagiarism sites,
And you will find the original poems
Bedecked with copyrights.

I’m sure this place just isn’t free
Of people like this,
Just look and see!!!

The Admins must get their fingers out,
And give these villainous rogues a massive clout.
Me, I will show all due diligence,
But my job here,
Is to show My brilliance.
(NOT someone else’s!).

Paul Butters
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