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 Oct 2015 Joel Frye
CA Guilfoyle
How I loved your mouth
the way your words belled forth
rang in soothing song
your lips and all the rest
days of coming home
in meadows or prairie suns
by love's fiery field
how we were
consumed
limbs dancing
dark hair flowing
arms and legs
wound around the sky
pockets full of autumn leaves
above the rushing clouds
her heels pushed into
their misty brocades
twisting like a ghost
of the white skies
then singing on her ivy-covered swing.
the book is 29 today in
Barnes and noble irish poetry under $5 nook and I'm not even irish lol!!!! thank you to everyone who has bought it! the link is here
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/and-then-i-returned-to-you-you-my-poet-of-the-water-beth-st-clair/1115678228?ean=2940016506258

footnote : i put a lot of time and effort into putting poems into collections so that they would be read more. i really do think that that is what is important reading more :) without the adds into collections the poems don't get read. if there's a problem with too many adds cap it at 5 or something but yes i do try to help the poets who i like but i only have one account :)

i'm going to add one of the reasons i am at this site is because views are high and that is in all seriousness.
Halfway around the world
and here in my heart, dear friend.

Writing brave, wise poems,
so vulnerable, so original,
inviting us into your life and home.

Early this morning, a flash of red
shone at the very top of our oldest pine
like some tropical bird, here by holy magic.

The tail, in fact, of one triumphant,
energetic little squirrel, bright sunlight
transforming that waving tail
into a banner of joy.

"Sally", I smiled. Somehow
it was you, sending me another delight
in this morning display.

Rosalia, a sweet garland of God's own goodness,
connecting us with grace and cheer,
all time zones made as one.
For my dear poet friend, Sally A. Bayan
©Elisa Maria Argiro
We both were on our sides,
  I threw the top of my leg over his hip.
suddenly, poetry comes alive
what an amazing stand-up routine:

*** , love and poetry are powerful things.
due to the love of the art,
Some adjectives do come after the verbs.
sigh!
It’s your time to shine:  my youth is fading
My words, my voice might be erased
Nevertheless, there’s one more lesson to be told my child
  Take life slow, live, breathe and learn.
Night comes and the day comes. And there you are alone
Night owls never stay faithful
When your teenager son or daughter think they knows everything
what a mother does..... she write a poem(:)
 Oct 2015 Joel Frye
Mike Essig
When you come of age
among Camaros, Mustangs,
GTO's and Challengers,
it seems somehow sad
to hear the pussified sound
of a Prius go puttering by
like Death driving
something sensible.

  ~mce
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