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 Nov 2016 Mark Lecuona
Katarina
Baby eyes, porcelain minds
To my flesh, your memories bind
Of how your lips, your lips so sweet
So softly, with my neck they meet
And your body, pressed to me
The puzzle piece, how I see

And your breath, that bitter smoke
My sombre pretty heart, that you broke

Is this love, your tainted question?
Receiving the faded afternoon call of salted , emerald tide
Awaiting the first star of the flush maritime night* ..
Copyright October 31 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson

First night in Panama City , Florida ..
A loners trail is slowly washed away ,
yet sometimes even the private have their
holiday
Bare feet covered in warm sand , dressed
for sheer comfort , walking the edge of
blue ocean with no place to be
Picturesque sea , gathering gulls , sailing brown
pelicans , forever horizon , white sugar revelry
Clarity returning in waves , morning cloud canopies
corrected in brash , cresting sunshine
Copyright November 2 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

Day three in Panama City , Florida
He was a man of many ideas
He brightened up even those in their darkest of times
By shining his whimsical offtimes and sometimes "outrageous ideas"
Now that he is gone, the "out" in the word describing his ideas
Now seem "in" and "new seas"
To try and sail partial paths of some of his intellectual "ideas"
To honor a "never ending" flame
By not allowing society's air blowing
To put my life's flame out.
In utter disbelief that he is now gone.
I know he is up above me and watching me.
"To see if I can make it?!" I shout
"That I can. For your honor, even more!"
I'll achieve my successes and let go of my crazy doubts.
"If you can make it this far, I shall go even further."
In your honor, my friend and spiritual brother, "to  victory and to the beyond"
"Thank you for entering my world...."
For one never sees another's true beauty until they pass.
Not this student.
All along, I have been the one who listened in class.
Dedicated to David Francis Schuler. 1974-2016. Blessings to you and your family.
sweetheart, sweetheart
here we come
from the hill nearby the river
we will take your first-born son
we will take and will deliver

sweetheart, sweetheart
close your eyes
he'll be taken to a palace
where nothing ends or dies
shines aurora borealis

sweetheart, sweetheart
here we are
singing songs of constellations
he will be our shining star
our blessing or damnation
I climbed out of this trench,
That was as deep as six feet,
When I realized that a broken heart,
Still manages to carry a beat.
Another day falling
from the crack of yesterday,

a patch of pearl
burning in the amber west
flaring up heaven
firing me up
in the pains of solitude
and poetry.

Home beckons through a dark way
where hope breathes eternal
as lanterns of moonlit leaves.

I won't mourn the loss
but fill all the void
with paper and ink.
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