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 Jun 2016
SE Reimer
~

think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.

~

*post script.

love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!
 Jun 2016
Francie Lynch
My life has always been about us.
Not a group us,
But the me in us.
The I, me, mine.
Wear my things, I strike out.
I buy duplicate gifts,
Compliment with vacuous airs of envy.
Invitations are scarce. A dollar a stamp.
Then you appeared
To show me the you
In us.
Tip of the cap to George Harrison's "I, Me, Mine."
 Jun 2016
PrttyBrd
Misty sunrise beautiful
Pale gold and icy blue
Steeped in iridescence
Each color alive within the other
Today I saw love
And it felt like you
62516
 Jun 2016
Wanderer
There is still a softness here
Hidden along my laugh lines
Occasionally reaching my eyes
Allowing you a glimpse of what could be
Regret. Life taken too soon. Grief.
All of these have hardened me
Where there was lightness sits heavy
Bones of birds now steel
Molded Osmium to once pliable exterior
Replaced constant sun with drifting shadow
Yet all of this is still me, my spirit unchained
Unchanged
To want me is to accept all parts
Regardless of their weight
 May 2016
WendyStarry Eyes
Welcome to the morning of
This rain full day
If bones are aching
Close your eyes and pray
When you were forsaken
You had lost your way
Now that His Spirit is with you
Healing has commenced to stay
True belief will
Bring your heart
To a joyous play
thanks to my HP friends for your uplifting words each day!!
 May 2016
Keith Wilson
Went  down  to  the  lake  today.
The  vast  expanse  of  water
shimmering  under  the  baking  sun.
Had  some  food  and  drink
sat  on  a  bench.
The  swans  came  up  from  the
water  begging  for  food.
Truly  amazing  how  they
cope  on  dry  land.
. Slender  legs  supporting
a  bulky  body  mass.
They  certainly  belong  
in  the  water.
Crowds  of  people  about
mainly  Chinese  tourists.
Really  warm  day.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.
 May 2016
Keith Wilson
How  do  the  tourist's
know  I'm  local.
They  are  always  stopping  me.
And  asking  the  way  to  the  lake.
Perhaps  It's  because
I'm  walking  on  my  own.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Whenever LOVE is lost
We get melancholic
The longing & pain is unbearable
Our heart aches for our beloved
We feel like someone has
Cut our chest open and
Served our heart on display
For the worldly vultures to devour

In those times the
Melancholic BLUES
Are very hard to hide
When it happens to me
I pour my sorrow out
To my soul-mate
In form of poetry
and long letters
With a hope that one day
My LOVE - words will
Reach my BELOVEDz

 May 2016
Christina Philipe
When the sky lost it all...
darkness kissed a precious soul,
won a threatening golden knight,
a savage heart with a flaming thirst.

Intrigued I came closer...
a turbulent wild Lion I found,
intense eyes, full of hunger...
fresh blood all over the ground.

Seduced by imminent danger...
dazzled by the red moon light...
through his fire, I stepped in,
and darkness lost the fight.

What a beautiful chimera!
Our colours changing hue...
his heat, my new home...
his heart beat, my lullaby...
but forced to say goodbye.

When no hope is left in sight...
in my dreams we find each other,
your captivating smile always heals me,  
treasured gift from the night.


© Christina Philipe
 May 2016
ryn
I'm stuck in this eddy.
And I'm such a poor swimmer.

I get swirled around.
Like a little helpless fly
caught in a wineglass.
Unbeknownst to the drinker.

I'm stuck in this eddy.
And I'm such a poor thinker.

I allow my mind
to get swashed around...
Like a lone sock
in the washing machine.
Lost without its other.

I'm stuck in this eddy.
And I'm such a poor survivor.*

So I just submit
to the will of the currents.
Like an empty bottle.
Stuck head down at the neck,
in the bathroom floor trap.

Sink or float...
I can do neither.
 May 2016
ryn
My mirror hangs stoic,
as silently it absorbs all it could with unbiased eyes.
All it receives under the day's sun.
Yet it never stores...
Not memories recent...
Not images perceived from the distant past...

My mirror
exists in the now.
It gives me only the present.
It reveals unequivocally the ground
upon which I stand.
It divulges only in the brutal and honest truth.
The kind of truth photographs could never tell.

Today it showed me what I've been seeing
with eyes half shut.
It showed me that,
I am older now.
Older than I was yesterday.
Older than I was a second ago.

Every wrinkle told a silent tale.
Every tale left quiet scars.
Every scar sang requiems of past mistakes.
And every mistake costed me my youth.

My mirror showed me that...
I'm older now because I've learnt much.
And I'm learning much more
because I'm older now.
An old photograph of myself inspired this.
If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.
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