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South coast days on end

The ante meridiem
Married to summer

People in constant motion

To the merry-go-round we go
To the merry-go-round we go

In the center
Like the mobile over my bed

Where the heart beats
Where our eyes see in teleidoscope

Inside the lines are brighter
And wider and envelop

The journey in itself
Is the gift
 Apr 25 Prevost
Mike Adam
That year caterpillars ate
The Cabbages-

No soup but
A flighty crop

Of White-Winged
Butterflies
 Apr 25 Prevost
Mike Adam
Shallow porcelain dish
Survivor of Centuries
Traveller on creaking wooden boat
Shipwrecked and unbroken yet
Barnacled and weeded
Fragility
Sound of a Bell beneath the Ocean

Whales look up, astonished
Decide to beach themselves

Becoming Human,
They will regret the air
one bolt left,
not for sale as a whole.

yet carefully cut, sewn, packed,
the small room, it is available
to share.

have you heard his voice
high over mountains, repeating.

do you like this cloth, tradition weaves,
these old skills.

having told him this, the work continues.
The world is an
orphan's broken toy.
Heart like a ferrel hog,
untamed by cages and
starvation.

The depth of misery and
elation sink dripping teeth
into ripe peaches.

Come on in.
Ignore the floating, bloated
bodies.
There's a pool of Shalom
somewhere.
We all want to be healed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM
Here's a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books.

www.thomaswcase.com
 Apr 24 Prevost
Joss Lennox
The weighted blanket,
I wasn't meant to carry,
layer after layer,
of burned threads,
leaving stains where they are,
for it wasn't made for my bed.
I wrote this poem about burdens, traumas, life events, that occur in each of our lives that weren't ours, but somehow or for some reason, fell on us to be responsible for or to take on its identity.
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