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  Apr 2017 TigerEyes
L B
The right winter
for dope and ice
for walks along the river route
home

The right winter
for arctic pin-***** wind
holes in boots
turquoise dress coat
far too thin
for walks along the river

But The Merrimack couldn’t find her way
when fabric moguls migrated south
Fascinated by nylon nasties
they traded their silks and cottons
for those petro-polyesterdays

While she—
could no more manufacture life
than mint their money
So, they blamed her
Pronounced her—“Dead”
Decried her “*****”

Now—
She wanders sadly under bridges
stopping to eddy in an overhang of birches
In dank canals, I found her sleeping
angered only at the falls

Poor outcast!
with current edge she splinters light
from cities sadder still
retching her oily stench 
        past Plum Island
into the sea— into me

What’re a few warm tears
falling from someplace on a bridge
to the icy waters of the Merrimack?
Rivers get lost in the ocean don’t they?

Let them find each other there
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/240872280040374240/

I never knew anything about Jack Kerouac, and only today, learned that he breathed his last on my 20th birthday in 1969, just as I came to his sad hometown of Lowell, Massachusetts to endure a baptism of my own.
He lies flat on the rooftop
looking at the stars.

Useless worlds birthing and dying
he muses
the colossal magnificence of waste

if atrophy is the verdict
why create a complex web of universe
just because someone from an island
would stare at them
in awe of the beauty
seeking a key to the riddle
himself a grain of dust
lost in reading the firmament
and not grasping
of what significance
he is
within his shrinking space and time
in an expanding universe.
  Apr 2017 TigerEyes
Aidan A
If she may fall asleep
Within a solace spun of oceans deep,
Where she rests - upon a foundation of strength
And finesse, I pray her weary eyes
Will soon forget their burdens
That she will breathe new life and
See herself for the radiance
She truly is.

If I may venture,
Brave the tides and slay the demons that plague her
Perhaps spark change beyond just seeing...
Would her gaze rest upon my being?
And bless my thoughts with her complexion,
An immaculate theater of inspiration.

If I had stayed here,
And rose above my doubtful waves to find her
Drowned in sorrow, or soaked in pain
Under darkened storms and torrential rain
For and beside her I'd take my place
To coax sunrise from her cloudburst face,
To call stars for eyes, always dawning surprise -
Such grace upon my evening skies.

If I may ask her,
To let me drown within the deepest seas
Of her eyes, just a second longer,
Before they shut, and she falls asleep
Amongst unrealised dreams and bursting seams
Where I’ll be, to stay staunch and guide her
To clear conflicting briar, so she may once again rest
Upon a foundation of strength
And finesse.
An old poem with a couple new lines. Still unsure if the new stanza takes away from its original delivery. Anyways, this poem is about guardianship that is found in (some) love. It is an inherent feeling of wanting to protect those you value. Thanks for reading!
I never got to love the girl
she spreads wide her rainbow net
where the sky plunges on crystal river
tides swell to hide her shame
ebb to fill her bag of catch

I never got to love the girl
her hairs in the wind
my dreams spawn
a flower rising from the riverbed
she grants a love in my head
spreads wide her rainbow net
thru the long night of blue moonshine
her frock fills up with sparkling life

I never got to love the girl
could no way be the right match.
Fishing girl, the River, Feb 10, 2017, 7 pm.
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