Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2015 Josh Bass
Suzanne Itani
She pressed down on the lever and pushed.
Swish, the front door opened. It was silent, the usual hustle and bustle of this place was now at a stand still. She walked into the kitchen and set her purse down on the marbled island. The open room was flooded with sunlight, large bay windows all around extended from floor to ceiling. It had been a particularly beautiful day; exceptionally sunny for a mid december day, and unusually calm for a monday afternoon.

Amar slipped her feet out of her shoes, nudged them aside and walked down the carpeted staircase. Once in the basement she paused, taking a moment to adjust to the pitch black nothingness that now surrounded her. She found the office chair and sat down, closed her eyes and relaxed. Her head tipped back and her feet swayed the bulky black leather chair left and right.

The motion, combined with the quiet darkness was intoxicating, and as she began to drift off... she remembered. Hot tears swelled in her eyes, slowly burning her insides, pain flowed through her veins, her blood began to warm up and her breathing slowed. She felt her heart start to crumble; her body began to ache. Though she sensed herself start to break all over again, she allowed her conscience the luxury and curse of their memory. For one moment she thought of them, morned them and wept for them.

Her eyes tingled... and with a swish, the front door opened.
So it's been a while since I've actually written anything... But I have something to say.. a feeling really
 Apr 2015 Josh Bass
wordvango
would the drive to repair me resolve
or the constant dreams of falling
dissolve
or my pretense be less intense,
(wooden would I be?)
there posed statuesque unmoved
alone on a mantle
picturesque a whittled piece,
un self realized
un felt?
settling?
 Apr 2015 Josh Bass
Walt Whitman
A noiseless patient spider,
I marked where on a promontory it stood isolated,
Marked how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be formed, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somwhere, O my soul.
 Apr 2015 Josh Bass
Allison
Water knocks and rocks the bow,
so soon I am awake.
It’s cold in here and warm out there-
“SHUT THE DOOR for GOODNESS SAKE!”

Though he might have used another phrase-
his words abrupt and stern.
I needed that,
I guess that’s what it took for me to learn.

Nine years old and constant.
My sisters never made
the waves I did or disobeyed
the rules our father laid.

Each day new and exciting,
just stepping out the door.
Breathe in the summer morning air,
the whole boat to explore.

The sun so bright, a beacon.
Pervasive, every place.
I rub sunscreen onto his back,
his ears, his head and face.

My swim suit with blue fishes,
in yellow and lime green.
Fine hairs, snow white covered my arms.
The sun kissed everything.

Climb up the wooden ladder,
eat breakfast on the bridge.
The radio, the salty air.
He pulls ribs from the fridge.

The tuna tower towers…
Barefoot, up I climb!
The view, the breeze, encircles me.
Enthralled, the scene sublime.

The crows nest, that’s the spot.
The look-out on the top.
I’d hang and lean and do my thing,  
then hear my name and stop.

ONTO THE BOW!
The next best place- the railing never there.
Up front there laid a wooden plank,
no chance for me to err

Life jackets, I abhorred…
but donning one meant fun.
I’d surge and plunge and wriggle,
minnows hit me one by one.

The coolest part, I always thought-
was anything but slow.
Surface, float and giggle,
ride the tide, my natural tow.

He’s standing and he’s waiting
at the corner of the dock.
He bends and lends his eager hand,
vigilant ‘round the clock.

He lifts me like I’m weightless.
Gifted with god-like strength.
He sets me down, where onto now,
my patience short in length.

Commercials on the radio,
the seasoned grill I smell…
The sea breeze carries these with ease,
marina under spell.

The neighbors start to gather,
they sit on our dock box.
Entranced by Raymond’s manner,
he’s well-known on the docks.

With food and laughs a’plenty,
our slip was hard to miss.
A good time had by many,
can’t help but reminisce…
 Apr 2015 Josh Bass
Stu Harley
time
does wash
away the soul
into grains of sand
trapped in an hourglass
time is the ghost of the past
and it leaves a hole that last
I've been given my orders,
but they don't add up.
I want to blame everybody,
and that force called "bad luck".
I've got nothing left to hold onto,
except for the love...
That should be enough...I'll be fine too!
As long as you stop calling my bluff.

I'm just doing what I ought to.
But it is more than just "rough".
My God, what do I do about the thought of you?
I have just about had enough.
Is this something you have even thought through?
I guess we'll find out soon enough.
But if you become someone I never again get to talk to,
I pray that God calls upon your bluff.
My soul really aches with these missing pieces.
Next page