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 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
K Mae
My Dirt
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
K Mae
Earth my church
I dig within and plant with fervor
kneeling  grasping skin wet smeared
immersed in wondrous mystery

Yet sacrilege there needs to be
crushing bugs with vehemence
between gloved thumb and finger.
They speak today of pheromones and genes
When trying to account for such a state
Most often seen in young folk, in their teens
Or in their twenties, signalling a mate.
They would not think a man turned fifty-eight
Should be a candidate for such a blast
Of chemicals, or genes, or luck, or fate,
To blow him forty years back to his past.
His family and friends would be aghast
To hear their wrinkled sage bay at the moon
And warble that he’d found “the one” at last,
And call him “fool”, or worse, “romantic loon.”
But they don’t know because they were not there
To breathe the lethal darkness of your hair.
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
K Mae
You are my man my chosen companion
the decades now seem just a flash
living desires dreams working and children
decisions admittedly rash
distance and merging the laughter and anger
have taken full space in their turn
most times I feel ageless with graceful awareness
know it is for now that I yearn
what a surprise your fine chest has grown ******* now
and I  pluck the hairs from my chin
I never thought we would morph into this stage
my partner my lover my friend
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
K Mae
Though I peer deeply all I see
are my perceptions reflecting me.
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
Tilly
Perseids
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
Tilly
This August night,
lay down beside me.
Surrounded by darkness,
watch the wishes come true.
@virtualastro
meteorwatch.org
 Aug 2012 Rhian Jona
TJ King
Parting the multi-coloured fragments of earthboundmist
was she;

shroud after shroud caressed her soft nameless face

before finally, trembling, she broke free.

Leaving me, bespeckled by the last free-floating globes of light

as she was taken behind the closed train door;

Alone amongst the travelers, wanderers, and the lost.

Blanketed in the glittering light of the morning, and set adream

amongst the weightless scent of petrichor.
Night falls silently
desires tip-toe in visions
I wait evermore
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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