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a white lily
light as a leaf
on the dancing water...

a honey moon
drifting slowly across
the dark arch of the sky...

a bright penny
dropped in a well and
a wish to find true love...
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
muses seek
words
of rhyming paradigms
intangible variables
unquestionable parables,
the sublime,
just is.
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
the middle commonplace
     poor dears
weak of voice
          making minimum wage
for all the
      billionaire
investors making up Wall street
          holding in servitude
   the poor dude
trying to pay his
         child support
with no health care
    when he gave
his sanity in Iraq.
or the single mother
         sharing with the desolate faces
the disgrace of
     going to the food bank:
           the land of the free
home of the brave
           has turned into the home of the rich:
oligarchy entrenches,
          that is why
i gave up
    a long time ago.
I looked back,
    once there was a middle
class.
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
it is hard to keep arranged the dichotomies when
you are strange
harder to line up the theme with meaning when
you forgot the dreams
I forgot the cast, the leading lady, the antagonist,
the hero the villains,
the theater where it all takes place.
When the curtain dropped,
the flowers died, the audience no longer cried.
But some of us remained.
long after the echoes died
the bouquets dried up
the house lights came up
showing the mascara running
wild down our
lonesome faces.
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
like broken mirrors
reflect
changes
diffused with
spectrums blue
in contact where
the object sits
contact relationships
of localized color
cannot be blue
if the light
illuminating it
is
true....
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
I really feel
sitting down
on a patch of green
on an ant hill
or pile of earth
the trees smiling
hear the birds
see the squirrels
scurrying
here on the side of civilization
an asphalt
man made hurrying past
pumping noxious gas
chattering on phones
texting who knows
what to whom like
life depends  on them
I can barely feel the ant biting
my ***
and hear no complaints from the grass
as I sit on her
watching nature
and slow down
and no one
makes me move on
I hear the waves rushing, hear them sighing in and
out, with the currents and the tides and the ever present
moon. A salty breeze brushes past, soft and fleeting, as that
last and gentle kiss, before you broke and said goodbye, and
left me standing there, beneath the glowing moon. The great
fronds of the giant palms rub together in the wind, and whisper
of untold secrets, hidden since the beginning, and of the pain of
a lover lost. The seagulls scream, mournfully their cries, echo down
to me, and remind me of the time, when my heart was still fresh
broken, and I wept 'neath starry skies. I am silent now. I am listening.
Waiting for her merry laughter, for her softly padding feet, carrying
her to me, back to me, across the sands of time and grief. I am waiting.
Come back to me my ever-love, come back to me.
Please?
A wistful poem, romantic in its certainties, and certainly, its grief.
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
infinite
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
fleeting time boundaries limits
surrounds around my being
weighed down with physical reaches
I spirit away unbounded
in creating MY
universe as i see fit with verbs
teeth grinning and nouns spinning
away
as I play without a box surrounding me
into infinity
surely
infinite
a day
a minute
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