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  Jul 2014 Janet Brown
More beneath mould'ring sullen earth do sleep
Than move and breathe with calm and cheerful ease;
Mocking flowers drooping who muse and weep—
Sturdy oaks free of sadness and disease.

Unconscious of final approaching doom,
Last appointment at late or early hour;
Unmindful of eager awaiting tomb,
Blissful, never do they despair nor tire.

'Till gaiety darkens to doleful sigh.
At the end of ev'ry road laughs a grave,
Whilst cruel time triumphantly doth fly
Mocking sad flower and stalwart oak brave.

© Hilda June 30, 2014
  Jun 2014 Janet Brown
Nat Lipstadt
since I wept poems freely,
from rise to set,
every breeze, every minute, each bladed grass,
a creation-emotion overtaking

the residue is
every pen dry,
every pencil nubbed,
every free and white
piece of paper,
even all the napkins,
Picasso scribbled

but this one compelled to
rise and set,
before you placed
with a gratitude that
needs no explaining,
a poem,
first and knighted as


a tired, benighted idea,
oft expressed,
that cannot be contained,
swelling up, chest burn bursting
and it's not yet 600am

but the sun demands
payment for admission to this
morning's performance,
which will never be rebroadcast

so in humility, I
offer up this scrap,
in hopes it earns me
one more show tomorrow
pleasing him,
by pleasing you

we write with many motives,
but this ticket is
for my friends here,
genuine camaraderie that is holy,
sourced from holy water,
"straight from the water"*
within our physical selfs

your arm unasked slung
over my shoulder,
your words my inspiration,
your demands, none,
other than give a listen

which is no demand,
but sweet sugar daily,
crazy stupid flooded
through words care crafted,
I have found so many
gentle kind
that without hesitation,
I find myself blessing us all
by repeatedly uttering
This is the poetry of this site
  Jun 2014 Janet Brown
Sara Teasdale
Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet plays alone.

Her thoughts are like the lotus
Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
Where Quiet sits and dreams.

Her kisses are the roses
That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
Where Quiet falls asleep.
Janet Brown Jun 2014
No stars illuminate the Earth tonight.
Alone, the wet new leaves and I survey my plight;
The issue here so dark we may not find the light,
And only you and I will ever know what's really right.

I only want to give my very best to you,
Yet somehow that may work toward a great "undo"
Of everything I hoped to be, it's true.
At least until the next big bill comes due.

I know we'd love to think that love is free
'Though somehow still we know that just can't be.
I don't know how to make it feel like there's no fee
Because there's one thing you will never ever see...

The most expensive gift I ever gave to you was me.
-2011 does the lease run out?
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