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 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Mike Adam
How to hold this rage,
To keep belly-fire
Burning

In righteous anger

As manifold wrongs
Surround.

How to keep this rage
When love balm
Overflows
To calm the furnace
 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Doug Potter
Two  and one half flights up a home built
in 1899, and eight steps on a pull down
staircase,  enter an attic, upon the pine
floor are carved the words,
I hate mommy.
I helped my brother-in-law move into a home in Corydon, IA. several years ago and in the attic of the home were carved the words.
 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Tay
Alone
 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Tay
When all hope has been given up
You sit down to cry
There is a spark left...
Some hope a tiny bit
But who would pay attention to that small bit
Because in the real world there is no second chances
You have to make them yourself
And with that,that small tiny spark got going and caught on fire
And before you know it, it became a huge bonfire
It only takes a spark
And when that spark catches on
It's like a wildfire
But if you keep it tamed then it can be used for good
If you let it run wild then that spark could bit by bit break
Down people's confidence and hope
Be the spark that grows
Don't become a careless wildfire
Kind of thought of this off the top of my head. :-)
 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Doug Potter
You tied  shoelaces together
and tried to hang yourself
from McMillin’s
basketball
hoop.

The neighbors talked about
it for years over flapjacks
and grits.  

They couldn’t understand why
anyone would attempt
suicide. I knew
the reason;

you were homely
and dull, kind of
foul smelling

too.  You failed
at  death, me
at life.
 Nov 2016 Moonsocket
Mike Adam
I sense your
Fragility
Unpainted lady

Wings frayed from
Flight through
Storms of static

Voice flutters
Digitised,
Fragmented

Subtle beauty noted

I acknowledge too
The strength of
Your journeys,
Of
One who migrates

Across continental drift
Through dark tunnels
Of despond

Yet with
Psychic power
And mothering love

Surmount all

I call too
If you may
Hear...
Shivering tree incantations incite the first Wren-song of the
morn
Long Pines fulcrum to touch dawns blue ceiling
Dales become sun-washed and quite talkative
Sharing the new day with rolling fields , Robin harper romantics
With the antics of fledgling flyers , ground squirrel , vivid swirling leaf
Tantric Chestnut providers , yellow
dancer Oaks , copper vistas reaching for
the curve of earth
Windsong , celebration , dutiful
Crescendo , becoming , vibrato
Upper tier , kinetic allegories receiving
life's opening breath* ...
Copyright November 17 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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