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 Aug 2017 Manonsi
Nat Lipstadt
~for lovejunkie, who loved this poem best~

so many reasons,
so many stones
yet unturned,
for each poem
a season,
for every season,
a given reason

eyes, dimmer,
hearing, harder,
memories, ha,
disappear as fast as
footsteps upon
my island beach

this then
my log,
of places momentarily visited,
capturing the of,
of me,
the exactitude of
where, when and what
I felt

what felled me,
the long and lat,
of the attitudes
of breeze and currents,
the happenstance that carries
a desperate soul
eager and afraid
to remember


"how fragile we are"

so memorized records here,
for his storage and his places,
both filled and unfulfilled,


poems, nothing more,
flawed each,
product of a flawed man,

here, for all to see,
most of all,
for the man,
to see himself
when the eyes of his mind
at last be shuttered
4/11/16 8:04am nyc
 Aug 2017 Manonsi
Seema
After six long years
You've come to see me, why?
Unstoppable tears
Pouring out unsaid feelings
Only my wounded soul hears

©sim
Tanka
5-7-5-7-7 syllables
 Jul 2017 Manonsi
Eric W
I. Root — Survival — Fear
My deepest fear is that
I am not good enough,
and never will be.
I fear that I am unable to
love
and that's what makes me
unlovable.

II. Sacral — Pleasure — Guilt
I blame myself still
for your passing.
Maybe if I had thought,
if I had been less self-involved,
to tell you about the car.
Maybe you would be here.

I cheated on you,
the only time I've ever cheated.
You shouldn't have had
to bare such pain
because of my foolishness.

I thought being with you
would finally let me be over
a heart-break.
Now I see that I hadn't
moved on
far enough,
and I'm sorry for its effects.
At least I made a friend.

I wish I could help my family
more.
They deserve so much better,
and I promised to help,
but the further I come
the more I realize
I must help myself.

III. Solar Plexus — Will-power — Shame
I am ashamed
that I am not stronger,
that I don't have the courage
to take the path less traveled.
I have been safe,
strategic,
in my life-choices.
Maybe I've had to be,
but maybe that's an excuse.

IV. Heart — Love — Grief
I've lost some people
along the way
as all of us have.
I know I hold on to parts
of my pain,
I know I keep it chambered.

I should have told
all of you
I love you.

V. Throat — Truth — Lies
I have my ego in check,
that is perhaps my greatest lie.
I like to think I do,
I fight against it,
but sometimes it swells.

A part of me is ready
to settle down,
become a Father,
but I don't know if that
is a truth.
A definite truth is that
I must be free.
How can I have both?

VI. Third Eye — Insight — Illusion
This world is an illusion.
We are all the same,
and all of the stars in the sky
are the same
as us.
Everything is connected,
everything is one.

VII. Crown — Cosmic Energy — Earthly Attachment**
I must let it all go,
those I love,
those I've lost,
fear I've felt,
shame I've harbored,
lies I've told,
grief I've formed,
and let the
illusions shatter.
I'm not usually one to play into this sort of thing, but what can a little meditation hurt?
 Jul 2017 Manonsi
Nat Lipstadt
half ring*

a present, a thank you compliment by way of a poem, for the zealous, tiny, poetess spark who writes exquisitely and calls herself Cynthia Henon*
~~~
strange old night-stands, a stained tan blonde wood
that's going ancient grey, but still handsome in a fitting way,
the front drawer hand painted floral in what I choose
to believe are by Italian hands in Italian reds and greens,
not so fancy as I make it sound, but worn and durable and
not overly functional but two silent, uncomplaining eye witnesses to a ten year ancient, greying love affair

wood ages, human eyes squint, failing to counteract the minute, advancing daily dimming, not paying close attention to the
Richter magnitude of the accumulated changes

the morning coffee ritual as catholic as morning mass,
a straw woven coaster to protect the sun blanched top,
hardly necessary, just a good habit, one of the  rituals that glue,
that couples use to keep the coupling intact

the cumulative subtle changes, the crackling sound unheard, the cracks in everything, even in the human tissue,
breaking, the papered over filler of purposeful ignorance,
cannot forever resist the erosion of the cancer of the
taking for granted

place the coffee cup half on, half off the coaster, un-noticing,
leaving half a ring that will now never disappear, never be
completed, causing her to fly into rage that rips the
complacent band-aids, worn dikes that were holding back the barricaded tears, but the sea~see
level was always rising and though visible, the revelation remained unchosen


later that day, I drive away forever with Yo-Yo Ma riding shotgun,
in charge of map reading and consolation music, thinking
half ring, half ring, half ring, half ring,
an embolism of symbolism, good for a play on words,
and a couple of poems about uncoupling

8:22am 7/1/17
 Feb 2017 Manonsi
Traveler
When I was lost
It often rained
The Sound of Silence
Magnified my pain

Got turned around
Couldn't find the path
It started getting dark
So I lit the map

The heart beats stronger
When panic sets in
I found the cave of destitute
But I couldn't find Zen
...
Traveler Tim
 Feb 2017 Manonsi
Gidgette
I was never a rose,
But green
Not a chrysanthemum,
Nor an orchid
Something cut,
Walked upon
And yet,
You were the dew
And kissed me,
With a thousand moist kisses
Everynight,
Making me sparkle
In the sunrise
Well, I didnt even know this was chosen as the daily till just a second ago. Thank you all so very much!
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