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 Jul 2018 Eudora
Angie Marcano
At 2 in the morning

Once every year

We sit down in the same wooden table

Drinking our second cup of coffee

Talking about our crazy aunts
and
weird family traditions.

Discussing the government
Or
social problems of our time.

Coming up with revolutionary ideas
that will never leave the room.  

We exchange our war stories
And a future apocalypse
that may or may not happen.

We cry
And then
we laugh

But by the time
the clock strikes 3

Our beds shall not remain empty.

So
With droopy eyes
and yawning mouths
We agree to continue
the same conversations
The upcoming year.
To my dearest and closest cousins that I only get to see once a year. May we always have topics to discuss.
 Jul 2018 Eudora
Shofi Ahmed
God may have promised
no one always a blue sky.
Explore more He opens
the door other ways!
For there is always
a new sunrise.
 Jul 2018 Eudora
sunprincess
Anchor
 Jul 2018 Eudora
sunprincess
How am I suppose to swim this mighty sea?

All my possessions have become an anchor,
an anchor of immense weight
Keeping me in this small vicinity

This territory known by the great white
and every sea creature
Will they come when hungry to visit me?

Lord knows I don't wish to be their next meal
 Jul 2018 Eudora
Valsa George
Stealing away from the noise and glare
I paced the aisles of an ancient library
Being worn and tired, indisposed to read
I sat in a corner, lost in half reverie

Around me were books stacked end on end
In safely locked glass and wooden shelves
And sectioned into different genres
Fiction, non- fiction, verse et al, in thinly layered leaves

I felt lost in this vast continent of erudite friends
Poet, scholar, philosopher and sage, each sat quiet
But those silent souls seemed to crave for human touch
Waiting to serve anytime learning’s lovesome diet

Closely sheltered from the tumult of the world
The place, though serene had an eerie air
And books like so many beauties in a harem
Were kept away in seclusion just to admire

The lifeless air and the long deserted look
Mildly disturbed my inner calm
Couldn’t digest man’s total disregard of books
Which for long, to many a lonely soul, served as balm

Sitting amid those gallant souls
I thought over the relentless efforts of sage like men
Who in the stillness of the night, in their cloistured cells
Plunged into research and meditative reflection

What knowledge is garnered in these tomes!
What all charms, encased in these pages!
To what magic lands they can carry us
Sharing with us the accumulated wisdom of ages

With the profusion of electronic gadgets
And information, readily available by a finger hit
Books no more are given a venerable treat
And fated to be stashed away in corners unlit

Heavy with the time tested wisdom of the wise
They sit huddled together in damp corners
Longing to get a little human warmth
But sadly neglected like rusted burners

After an hour’s enervating reprieve
While I was leaving that dumb world
In my ears, fell a faint sound
Of the agonizing cry of the Printed Word!
The spirit guide that rides with me
and has done as far as I can see
forever,
never lets me down.

This is a lightness to a being
and although I cannot see him
or her
I know the spirit guide is there.
with
a blue lamp for my healing
that peels away all pain.
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