Mary Winslow and I have just published a book of our poetry.  It's called Dea Tacita and is available on Amazon.com.  My email address is jeffardster@gmail.com if you want to send praise.  If it's not praise, the addess to use is deadendmail.com.   :)

She woke up to the reality of cruelty
Pain, the stench of his breath on her skin
life, she's been devoured of existence
She hated and regretted being a girl
oh pain, she couldn't bottle you anymore
she ran to the nearest, tallest bridge
and finally numbed the pain
.
.
.
.                
.              .
.              .
               .
               .
               .              .
               .              .
                              .
                              .
                              .
                              .

She didn't have to
but we ignored her
judged her
avoided her
but never helped her
her  cluttered heart was broken
nobody noticed or cared enough to notice
.            .

      .                 .
    
               .                    .

                          .                   .

10  words.

Dull,dank, and  wet.
  Septembers  now  arrived.
In  full  force.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.

Odd color
of trifling light
Flitting petal
blue-purple-gray
emerged from asphalt's
heated slumber
to lead some airy way--

The road forgot

Let us hunker down...

Let's submit to each other's embrace,
and may our arms form
our very own private sanctuary.

Let us be shielded
from the debris and shrapnel
of malicious intent.

Let our fingers be free
to wipe the dirt and tears
from each other's eyes.

Let us be afraid together,
for in this cocoon,
there may yet be some mettle.

Let us still be sheltered...
For the storm is not yet over.