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 Oct 2017 lauren
Mike Robbins
Autumn
 Oct 2017 lauren
Mike Robbins
In the dim yellow light beneath deciduous trees she spun methodically in Autumn. Shadows loomed aloft, chirping their approval. She spun and seemed to levitate, the flickers of the evening flame reflected in her pale green eyes darting in between loose strands of bland vermilion hair. And she spun and spun as if she'd spin forever,

Autumn.

She was Autumn there and then, personified in glints of golden green and faded yellow brown descending listlessly to greet the open canvas of the forest floor.
And the shadows pressed into the earth and disappeared as overhead the rain slashed through the shyness of the crowns betwixt the trees.

And she slowly spun her last, and lastly, panting stood before me naked, shivering in the gentle gales that rose and fell like Mozart's heavy heart.

I beckoned her with dead weights crudely fashioned to the pauldrons of my coffin that hung lowly, swaying listless as the leaves. And she smiled a tired smile and blew the kiss I yearned for seasons to receive before collapsing in the dirt.

In Autumn.

-Mike Robbins-
October 1st, 2017
 Sep 2017 lauren
The Mellon
There was a night not so long ago,
I felt like dancing in the moonlight,
My arms around your waste,
You're head resting on my chest.

We would bend and sway like a young
Tree slowly starting to grow.
We would murmur of silly things
Like tea and sunflowers.

After our dance I would have liked to lay in the grass.
You know the spot.
Where we laid together last time.
Where we watched the wind.

I want to lay there again with you.
I want your head to be rested on my chest.
I want to idly play with your hair
While we watch the moon.

Someday we will do these things.

Yesterday I went out and looked at the moon. It was beautiful and full.
Today I returned to look at it and little had changed.
So tomorrow I'm going to sweep you off your feet,
And we will dance in the moonlight until the wind blows us to the ground.
 Jun 2017 lauren
Mahnoor Kamran
All my life i asked:

How can you unlove someone?

Truth came from the angel of death:

*You can't.
 Mar 2017 lauren
SE Reimer
~


~==~
compassion
is   a   towering
tree,       its      roots
grow   deep,    for    that
space to  reach,  in  between
a    rock    and    hard  place.   to
find    its    nourishment    from   pain;
it’s     sustenance      in     life’s       pouring
rain.  for  its  seeds  lie  in  needs;   the  human
kind  of  suffering.  without  which  this  gift
would­  cease  to  exist.  a  grace  of  great
price;   a   pearl   of   bright   light.
well   - nurtured  it  spreads
it's  broad  arms,  to
swallow.   the
s o r r o w,
to  comfort
a   mother,
a   father,
a  son  or
a daughter,
to     give
hope    to
the  dark  of
their   night.
an ointment it brings
not just once or twice, but a
salve to soothe a breaking heart... for life!

~

*post script.

please, for one moment consider this... the human emotion of compassion does not, and cannot, exist without suffering!  compassion is in many ways like a mirror image of pain, and a man or woman with a well-developed gift of compassion knows it's great value is in its ability to enlarge our capacity for selflessness, for in sharing compassion we absorb another’s pain.  yet we must also remember that many kinds of pain are incurable and are destined to be borne for a lifetime.  therefore, equally important to that thought is this... compassion is not a “one-and-done” cure.  instead it is an ointment and salve that must be applied, as often as needed, even for a lifetime to those who we love.  and is not this the greatest pain reducer possible?  ( and what’s more, it also does serious damage to narcissism! imagine that... two for one! :). it is only then in this context that i say these words, "pain is the gift that awakens our compassion!"
 Jan 2017 lauren
LB Parker
One morning you will wake up
And all the monsters
You've been keeping in your closet
Will be lying in bed with you
With  love , kelsey
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