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 Oct 2016
Chris
Now in the shade
A lonely figure
Of interlaced thoughts
Draws a shape
In the soft earth
Because the bark
Has since overgrown
The one he carved above
In a previous life
 Oct 2016
phil roberts
Edges of shadows
In the corners of eyes
Too fast to see
It might be me

Is it true
What you see?
Is it real?
Is it really me?

You do not hear my voice
Or know the colour of my eyes
You would not know me in the street
Or recognise my accent
Should we meet

And yet
You have seen my soul
In the words I write
And even the spaces between them

Those who care to look
Can know my story
My frailties
My vulnerabilities
My reality

This may be my curse
And my gift to you
Whatever it may be
You know that it is true

                                   By Phil Roberts
Rewrite of "Curse and Gift"
 Oct 2016
Chris
Playlists of broken thoughts
Cobwebs and keys
Slanted in uniformed dissatisfaction
Notes smeared on fingertips
Melancholy mu-sick
Vibrato virtuoso

Bending strings and pushing pedals
Smashing baby grands
Into bite sized pieces

Feedback flashbacks
And the band played on
While the pianist was shot
Between the eyes
In an off key massacre
To a standing ovation
 Oct 2016
grumpy thumb
Regrets settle on a memory
like dust on an abandoned cobweb
out of reach
to wipe cleanly away.
It's an eye sore
you ignore,
but it's always there
when you try to overlook it.
 Oct 2016
Valsa George
Down the dusty road,
in tattered rags,
He came,
weary,
wilted,
and
withered.

Body bent with age,
bones sticking out of the flabby skin,
with a tremor
running down his limbs,
and with expectant eyes,
He waited at my doorstep.
No words came out from pursed lips
But,
in mute language
begged for alms.

I held his shrivelled hand,
helped him ascend the steps.
Like a child obeying it’s Elder
He sat on a chair in the patio.

The sumptuous fare, served before,
he surveyed with eyes
bulging out in utter disbelief,
and greedily devoured
every bit of morsel.

A rare gleam lighted up his face.
With hands folded in benison
He stood up and silently took leave.

I watched him stumble
along the country track
and fade away in the distance.

Ripples of joy stirred my mind
in ever widening circles
as, a pebble idly tossed
cause ripples in still waters
................
Over a random act  
of kindness
idly tossed.......
Love is the cardinal of all virtues…. But love has many shades! Next to Love, comes Compassion…. It is love plus empathy….. ! I believe that even the Scripture minus compassion is zero.
This is a true story…. ! Through such small acts of kindness, the giver and the receiver derive some joy…As an average human being, I am not powerful enough to carry out heroic acts to better myself and the world around
I feel that if one has compassion, he/she cannot hurt anyone deliberately!
 Oct 2016
Mike Essig
the brilliant morning
no longer invites

every TV show
is a rerun

books that screamed
now murmur

even the body
speaks in the past tense

now becomes was

the falling away
of self
into shadow

even when time
falls and freezes
like winter leaves

the urge to consciousness
resists surrender

how we long for
bright new moments

right to the brink
of nightfall

even as the white flag of death

slowly unfurls
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