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 Apr 2015 MV Blake
Madeysin
Subtle sipper of love, use the Big Dipper
To ladle it out, into the trash can you drink of,
Toilet paper stacked against the mattress,
In your stomach, they scream he'll get sick,
Without shoes on, but he doesn't have a heart,
To fail, to stop its beating, just a hallow cave,
Where memories go to die, I watched him,
Shrug & grin, satisfied with solitude,
I'm ready for a tire swing lullaby,
No jokes or games, every,
Thing, out in the open,
He clambered down my words,
And sat in the mulch to die.
( Sonnet )*

I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.

In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.

Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.

My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
In Celtic myth, if a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife.  Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean.  Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.

Selkies (also spelled silkies, selchies; Irish/Scottish Gaelic: selchidh, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Scottish, Irish, and Faroese folklore.  Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend is apparently most common in Orkney and Shetland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
 Apr 2015 MV Blake
Jason Cole
father flesh your vows were made
with certain good intent
better yet the brows you raised
could see no self dissent

strong, you were
a rock of sorts
which seldom moves an inch

long, you were
on life of course
life is but a cinch

oh so brave to walk the fire
the fire gone unkindled
a smothered flame to breathe again
once properly swindled

conscience plays a partial part
in stemming liability
but time you'll find will rob your mind
of valuable stability

it's a tell-tale sort of story
though no moral or no fable
and if you'll kindly pay the ransom-
the deed to my betrayal

we shall climb this rugged mountain
together we shall ascend
and once atop the sound will drop
"my father is my friend!"

©Jason Cole
 Apr 2015 MV Blake
Poetic T
It rained that day, each
Droplet hit upon me.

Silence was my torment,
A tear fell alone unheard.

A cushion muffled
Impacted rain.
23 words of pain

Even through a cushion a fist is still a fist...
Real life isn't a fairy-tale
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