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 Dec 2017 Diane
Edward Coles
Never dreamed I would fear
The best thing for me
Forsake longing
In the daily pursuit
Of escapism
And ugly living

Lack of meaning
Beneath the tongue
To almost anything
And anyone

What do you expect from me

When you stand there
Bold in the beauty of life
Full of struggle without a scar
Fingers delicate in prayer

I am ravaged by the storm
All movement without lustre
All shelter torn
All sails at half mast

Years spent searching
For dry land
After years spent learning
Nothing is built to last

If you lend me dreams of your future
I will confess to each demon of my past
 Dec 2017 Diane
Nat Lipstadt
the elegance of truthful simplicity,
the sweet truths of elegant brevity,
the insides of insight

Please Read

for it should be the Poem of the Day
 Dec 2017 Diane
Salt of my dreams
 Dec 2017 Diane
I raise my glass
to you, dear woman
across the horizon
out where the water rises;
here's to all the years
I've spent waiting,
to all the miles I made
myself across, a life
spent wandering in haste,
wondering just how
your salt would taste.
 Dec 2017 Diane
 Dec 2017 Diane
use your gift(s)

everything is given

freely you received

- freely give.(JC)
Snowdrops drop a melody
she nods at me
quite casually,
I see
romance in her eyes.

the snow flys faster,
of the tango
it's the master,
but has
always been a mistress
of my movements through
this time.
 Dec 2017 Diane
Nat Lipstadt
perhaps if you are
one of the few
multiyear variates,  
still here, still seeking
to the
equations of
human formulation,
one of the veterans of the
early word wars,
when the line between fellow poet
and human being was full of
invitational openings,
tween those dots and dashes,
we all eagerly entered those places,
crossing over into
those human openings,
making poets into friends^

we were social for the humanity
patented in the very word

we encouraged,
we critiqued wearing a flag
made from the fine fabric of fellowship,
crossing global borders and time zones,
even planets,
with only a hand-made
poetry passport
constructed from the
tissues of our hearts

each one of us,
A Little Prince,
from other worlds,
but all
ourselves together in a
hospitable desert

so strange,
we found companionship,
genuine in ways that
make me weep when I recall it,
so many aviators,
flying low, neath the radar screen,
speaking one language of a thousand dialects

the networking was spontaneous,
friendships formulated,
real hugs exchanged,
no ulterior purpose, no quantity of glory sought,
no favors traded,
there were friends,
not followers,
just sharers

we valued the first amendment of our lives,
the right to speak freely in poetry

I wish you had been there,
back then
^ an excerpt from "21 hours ago"

Typos? Text me and let me know
 Dec 2017 Diane
Cutting time
 Dec 2017 Diane
Moon, blow your light
my way, but don't cut my time

Let me dream just a little longer
while my eyelids shine
in the dark starlight

Let the ceremony end slow
back in my old home,
not in a cold forest near the sea

I want to see again
those three rivers that flow
together and listen to a woman
singing to a child
in her mild mannered way

But in spite of the night
and my wishes
something keeps creeping
past me in my sleep
like numbers of smoke

It was you, dark woman,
walking across the room bare
footed turning on the air conditioner
in the winter, a pair of scissors
in the folds of your robe.
 Dec 2017 Diane
SG Holter
Such a huge, beautiful sky
Now that the mountains have all
Called in sick.

Plains where valleys were,
Seas withdraw as if in retreat;  
Defeated armies of

Timelessness. Wake of
Soil and stone. Such a
Huge, all embracing heaven  

Not even looking down.
And now, enter her, as I make
Myself comfortable with

My new life of treatments and
A violently shortened lifespan;
The one I always loved from

Within the shadows.
Willing me to live.

A sleeper angel deployed to
Hold the holder;
Double-wing-cover from

The snow. Old love unspoken.
The kind that makes hills run for

Steady and unquestionable;
Tectonic shifts between hearts
Running out of

Tic-tocs and bass lines.
Plains where valleys were. She
Fills craters with her presence

In the room.
Never my girl; always my girl.
Sleeper angel activated.

I see why the seas withdraw.
No wonder the mountains called
In sick.

She raises solar storms with her little finger;
Conducts atmospheric changes with
A sigh.
 Dec 2017 Diane
 Dec 2017 Diane
You're a sweet sweet friend
said the rain to the wind
pushing me to find a place to land

You're a harsh master
said the trail to the mountain
leading me higher then I even knew
I could go

You're teaching me all
said the river to the ground
guiding me down
to mother ocean's mouth

You're the father
said the earth to the sun
bestowing life
in the great dark vacuum sea

You're my consciousness
said the darkness to the mind
which allows me to behold
the light
the wonders of beauty
all around me.
 Dec 2017 Diane
Angela Rose
 Dec 2017 Diane
Angela Rose
My hands feel cold like ice cubes
They are shaking and awkward
My hands are aching for contact
They are yearning for the touch of your hands
My hands are confused because they don't know what to do when they aren't intertwined with yours
They are incoherent because they now only know what it feels like to hold on to a bottle of liquor
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