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  Mar 2016 Mfena Ortswen
Silvana Franco
Their fur is like silk
Their paws soft as moss,
Their pupils dilate and
Chase things that are tossed.

Once worshipped as gods
Now they're merely our pets,
Though they wear a facade
That says "Cats don't forget."

They still think that they're sacred
And mankind is their slave,
So they walk like they're royalty and
Take the act to their grave.

Some people despise them
Say they're cold and ungrateful
They look like rats, they cause mayhem
And they're just not playful!

I see something different
When I look in a cat's eyes,
I feel an ancient wisdom
Behind their jaded guise

I am transported back
To scorching Egyptian nights
And see within their pupils, black
The starless desert skies.

An intelligent being stares back at me
In unblinking contemplation,
My soul laid bare before two orbs
The color of amused satisfaction.

So next time you see one lazily
Sunbathing on its side,
Close your eyes and feel
the ancient spirits that
It carries deep inside.
  Mar 2016 Mfena Ortswen
Jacob Traver
Yearly, yearly I knew you dearly --
Watched you blossom and sincerely
Hope to be more than merely
A seed without the sun.

Yearly, yearly I held you dearly --
Sown deep in the ground and growing nearly
As stretched as the sky and you now clearly
A seed within the sun.

Yearly, yearly I loved you dearly --
Nurtured as nurtured rarely austerely
Intertwined as death lets us be
Two seeds beneath the sun.
My silence is not, and does not
Represent, the inadequacies of
my adeptness and my knowledge,
Nor does it undermine my capabilities
Of paraphrasing primary thoughts
In verbose, scholarly manner, no,
It does not, can never, didn't ever
Mean that I am not opinionated,
For it is upon my discretion
Whether you are worth debating with.
Whistle sounds, alarm beeps
Battle drums, my heart beats
Rising sun, crowing ****
It is here, riddle me

Silent bath, floating thoughts
Towel dry, connected dots
Tucked in shirt, shiny shoes
One quick prayer, banished blues

Speeding cars, crowded trains
Changing lights, fast paced lanes
Blaring horns, jamming doors
Quiet rides, bone-face walks

Smell the air, raise your chin
**** in chair, eye on screen
A sip of coffee and you know you'll win
Welcome to Monday, you can get through
Mfena Ortswen Mar 2016
The clouds are racing over my head
I am still woozy just getting up from my bed
My dad and brother are roasting yam
Under the Frangipani tree close to the farm
I stagger to where they are
Father stirs the yam ensuring it doesn't become char
My sister emerges from inside
With a knife and plate by her side
There, we divide the morning meal
Everyone eating a fair share to their fill
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