Roberta Compton Rainwater

Dec 2017

Patricia Sky Bellefleur

shirring down
rain slides whispering through the grasses
clings to every drying flower head gone to seed
bushes tightly bunched
against the stalking winter wind
buffalo herding round
circling the remains of autumn
summer lost to us all

leaves
racing for cover
freed from tree prisons
off on walkabout
seeking some adventure
bound for bonfires
or compost mountains
or gathering in communion against my garden wall
gossiping in their secret leafy language
secrets of the seasons
mysteries of the Earth
Mother tongue
wet is this silver morning
wet with life
C Patricia Sky Bellefleur

Dec 2017

r

Blue threadbare armor

At dusk I hang up
a worn blue work
shirt that smells
strongly of love
of dirt of the earth
melancholy, sweat
yesterday's brews
the blues, regret
twenty cigarettes
black breath
of the bone moth
old blood, moon dust
spring pollen, summer
grass, Autumnal ****
winter's cold blast
sea salt and pine needles
mountain laurel, desert air
my dog's hair, I swear
I can't bear the thought
of washing or throwing away
all the stains, the growing pains
the laughter, the sorrows
these history lessons I need
to get me through tomorrow.

Roberta Compton Rainwater Dec 2017

the cuisine of the depressed

here is a cup of fog
mix it well
with melancholy
spoon in a bit
of saccharine ---
indigestible sentiment ---
and blend it all
together

take this tablespoon of
creative fire
douse it with
unrelenting tears
repress it into a ball
then let it stand,
covered,
that the yeast of
sorrow may bloom

when doubled,
punch it down to
bloom again

punch
bloom
punch
bloom

work the dough of Life
to death
form it into a blob
put it into the cold fire of the ego’s
oven
leave it there to burn away
to nothing edible

serve it in hard chunks
on delicate china
and --- wait
trust that the teaspoon of
Love added at the last minute
will be enough

c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Remembering old bouts of depression

Dec 2017

nivek

in the palm of your hand

taking things at a pace
allowing a flower to unfold

waiting for full bloom
to happen
in its own time

to not pre-empt
not to fizzle out

the wonders of a Universe
in the palm of your hand.

Nov 2017

Jim Davis

Sky Thoughts

Sky I  see, in blue, in sky, in white, in cloud
Bits of grey, scattered within, also in there
Scattered thoughts, perhaps soft pattering rain
Sounds unexpected, echo in my ears

Buzzards drift, uplifting, to warm east winds
Dragons as flies, butter as flies too
Peacock in azurite, fanned out to full
Littles aflutter, in all branches near

Winds catch soft breeze, just right, a good cool feel
Deer strolling into verdant far land
Crows with caw of a disturbed picnic lunch
Minnows dappling pond's water,  glass clear

This is sacred sight, which when I turn old
All blind, I expect, I will too soon miss
Unable to gaze, upon peace
with my squinting pair, of sky hazed blue eyes

©  2017 Jim Davis

For my father, whose eyes were beautifully blue!

#blue #eyes #sky