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 May 2015
ryn
Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.

All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.

I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.

I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.

I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.

But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.

Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.

Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.
It's a small bed we share
barely enough for the two
but big enough for the pair
to see the years sail through.

The wood now creaks with age
shrunk thin the old mattress
weighed down with passing days
buoyed up with embrace.

The pillows are thick with stains
of tears that flowed all the while
from rivers of joys shared pains
upon travel of the long trying miles.

Loyally it carries us along
our bed of priceless worth
could mere wood be that strong
if not bonded with warmth!
 May 2015
Nikita
Blankets
Movies
Hot chocolates

My day was so chill until I got home and turned on the news
Death, death, politics, sports, death.

It made me realise how lucky I really am
To live in a safe home, with friends, familys, food and no war

For that I'm grateful.
Always appreciate what you have ♥
 May 2015
John F McCullagh
It always starts with a Woman;
a woman with skin like sweet milk chocolate.
A woman with a voice like warm honey on a cold dark night
And brown eyes in which a man might comfortably lose his soul.

The club was cold; not much of a club really;
A drafty old barn of a building somewhere in Arkansas
A big barrel half filled with Kerosene was lit to heat the hall.
The Young black folk of the town were gathered around

Young B.B. King was playing the blues, on a guitar with no name.
That was when the fight broke out on the dance floor.
two strong men doing battle over a woman who worked at the club.
It always starts with a woman.

Punches were exchanged; in the melee someone kicked over that barrel
And fire, like a river, roared across the floor.
Everybody started to run for the only open exit.
B.B. King ran too, until he recalled he had forgotten his guitar.

She was nothing special except for the man who played her
The man who coaxed sweet sad sounds from every catgut string.
King wasn’t a rich man and that guitar was his meal ticket
So he raced back through the flames.

Just as he retrieved his guitar, the building began
Its slow sad collapse into ash and embers
He barely escaped with his life and his guitar.

Standing outside in the cold night
Looking on the ruins of what had been a good paying gig.
That was when he met Lucille;
She was the barmaid with the sweet milk chocolate skin
And a voice like warm honey on a cold dark night;
Those two men had just fought and died over
a pleasure that neither would ever possess.

That was when B.B. King christened that old beat up guitar
“Lucille”:
To remind him of this night he almost died.
to remind him never to do something that stupid again.
Like I was saying, it always starts with a woman.
My tribute to the late great B.B. King. the true story about how his guitar got the name Lucille in Twist Arkansas, one winter night in 1949
Taste the moon, my friend

listen it will sing at night

a generous portion of love

with dark colored  sun filled glass

causes this somber sad expression

fills this anguish of mine

to melt my tears of hate....


Let me feel the moon in my bones

behind my wounded heart of mine

a ballad, oh moon, you do sing

from the deepest part of my mind

harbors past missed opportunities

of events through my lifetime~


The moon is raining my tears at night

feeling the sadness of many a years

bounds to my very soul

to take my pain of the disturbed peace.....


The world has gone mad

my life is your equalizing song

rain moon rain, with all your might

Let me radiate in your light....


Let's taste the moon tonight...

Debbie Brooks
 May 2015
Marshal Gebbie
Birth is  a beginning
and death a destination
And life is a journey:
from childhood to maturity
and youth to age;
from innocence to awareness
and ignorance to knowing;
from foolishness to discretion and then, perhaps to wisdom;
from weakness to strength
or strength to weakness -
and often back again.
From health to sickness and back we pray to health again;
from loneliness to love,
from joy to gratitude, from pain to compassion,
and grief to understanding -
from fear to faith until,
looking backward or ahead,
we see that victory lies
not at some high place along the way,
but in having made the journey, a sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning and death a destination.
But life is a journey,
from birth to death......to life everlasting.!

Sammy
A beautiful passage written by a dear friend, Sammy, for Grandpa Verne, a wonderful man, who recently passed away. Written with love and caring for my darling wife Janet who was utterly shattered by the loss of her father.
M.
.....For you were once my love, back then
But then was then and now is now,
Life has flowed beneath this bridge
Paved our way and showed us how.
Through ups and downs, we counted cost
Depicting how we played our cards,
This fortitude and moral strength
A measure of.… how one regards,
My friend who shined as crystal gem
When hardship intervened, by chance
In offering her helping hand
In order to resume the dance.
And though the passing crowd moved on
and paused, perhaps to glance and stare,
She bent and warmly took my hand
And murmured, friend, I care, I care.

M.
 May 2015
Amitav Radiance
About past there are regrets
With the present we are entangled
Past is yet to arrive, yet, doubtful
Seeds of unharmonious thoughts
Deeply entrenched in our mind
Now, they have grown and flourish
Becoming weak in the constant shade
Obfuscating the light of awareness
Life, we interpret in darkness
Until we cut the branches of uncertainties
Uproot the negative thoughts
Embrace the light of truth and grace
To live and grow stronger with every step
Nurture the harmonious thoughts
 May 2015
Mike Hauser
Every night and every day
I pray life goes your way
As all your dreams come true
For you

With the die that has been cast
May good fortune fall in your lap
And may every day be new
For you

Let every single photograph
Bring on that joy of your past
And may it's beauty hold true
For you

All of this and more
Is my hope of yours
For you
Yes, for you
The clink and clatter
Of oyster shells neath my feet
Gulls shrieking above
Waves pounding and hissing back
With salt tinged breezes
I tramped along the shoreline
Till the sun dropped down
And quenched neath the horizon
Then phosphorescence
Shimmering, lively and cold
Edged the briny surf
I stopped and turned to the deep
Wishing you were there with me
Choka
Take flight upon the wistful breeze
mourn not the loss of mortal shell
let go of all with quiet ease
for those who loved you loved you well.

Then we shall sing a prayer for thee
a light to guide in passing peace
that you may rest forever free
as morning brings your souls release.
For Guy. May he rest in peace.
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