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( Sonnet )*

Sound softly hung, she spoke, gave birth to place;
And there, found him closed in, frozen, shivering.
Her dawn light hands gently warmed his face;
His winter room sweetly broke into the spring.

After darkness died he felt strange bonds again;
Birds chimed, flew by, and the walls fell away.
Locked in her arms the turning world grew open;
His eyes nestled in the light her joy had made

And with her temperance swelled his weary eyes;
This was the day of her birth, Venus by the seas
And lonely air was steeping, the ground set aside
His tabled world was now a feral garden green.

Dearest countenance, with only grace she lies,
With merest touch, turned all ceilings into sky.
.
 Jul 2017 Mary Winslow
Kevin
Say Florida in the cellar
speak flowers where cool and dark
close your eyes, wander through the library
smell the age of knowledge
touch the fading thoughts

Say Florida in the morning
speak soft for sake of caution
walk toward sound of flutes and fury
dance to unheard anger
die for woodwind rhythms
 Jul 2017 Mary Winslow
Louise
○○○

They speak the things
I am unable to speak
cry the pain for me
that I can no longer take,
shout loudly in anger
when I'm just too weak

Words ..

Give comfort to me
when no one is
around
Help to soothe me
to sleep
with the gentlest
of sounds,
offer me confidence
when mine
cannot be found

Words ..

Let me write of a love
that I've not always known
and of a romance
that I want to be shown
a love that's so magical
it feels just like home

○○
 Jul 2017 Mary Winslow
NvrMnd
Disappointments got me to this misty road
Sluggishly cycling a creaking bicycle in a drizzle
While poisoning my bushed lungs with cigarettes

A replacement to my sweet medicinal marijuana
That I skipped for months, trying to be clean, to be good
But in my head there’s still a noise saying I need it so much
To feel powerful, for a day of greatness in nirvana
To forget that I needed someone to feel worthy,
Or so to create an apparition of a friend to whom
I can share my disappointments and success
While in reality I’m alone in boredom
Killing time and whatever I have,

Oh Gaaad, sorry I feel weak

My insecurities got me to this misty road
Sluggishly cycling a creaking bicycle in a drizzle
While poisoning my bushed lungs with cigarettes.
 Jul 2017 Mary Winslow
Jeff Stier
A questionable son
the one
who chose auto repair
and serial monogamy
finds the golden road
to Washington, D.C. respectability

What does his father do?
He buys him a briefcase

And everything followed
and flowed
from that mineral moment

A career
a wife, in time
a briefcase never used
but full of good wishes
murmurs
and marching orders

The road ahead
seemed wide open
stretching west
into a golden glow
and open it was
purged of hindrance
by the workings of time

So here am I
that golden road
now behind me

Life seems a sand castle
on a castle of sand
with the tide pouring in

It is that last ember
glowing as the fire
goes dark

Tomorrow and tomorrow
beckon from a fabled future
they bid me adieu

I can smell the scent
of decay in this
warm summer's wind
kiss the sweetness of it
on my lips

I do not part willingly
hold out my hand
for every shred of
summer's light

But at the end of it
pack my poor bag
and make a crow's march
home
where I belong
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